#Alistair is everybody's favourite | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spine-buster · 5 years ago

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 14

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter. I hope you guys like this one! :) A quick reminder that I’ve set up a Ko-Fi incase you want to support my writing --> ko-fi.com/spine_buster . Enjoy!

December 25th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was celebrating Christmas.

Siena was home from Ottawa, having finished another semester of law school. Camden was the first one up, naturally, screaming at everybody that it was time to open presents. The family had been to Midnight Mass the night before, a tradition Orla had the family do every Christmas since they were young. After opening presents, everybody would shower and help her make the day’s big lunch before passing out in food and wine comas all over the house. If all went well, Gramma Frances and Grampa Alistair would call and they’d all say hi in a short FaceTime.

“Get up! Get up! Get up!” Camden could be heard screaming from the hallway, his footsteps getting louder and louder. “It’s time to open presents!”

“If he comes in here I’m gonna scream at him,” Siena mumbled into her pillow. Aberdeen laughed from her side of the room.

“Siena! Aberdeen!”

“We’re coming!” Aberdeen yelled, not bothering to move.

“Hey mom! Can I finally try coffee?!” their little brother wouldn’t shut up.

The girls snorted, with Siena groaning as she stretched in her bed, unable to fall back asleep. Eventually they got up and got ready, their little brother’s screams getting too annoying to ignore. “He’s getting more annoying as he gets older,” Siena said playfully, running a brush through her hair.

“Yeah,” Aberdeen agreed, “but at least he doesn’t jump into mom and dad’s bed like we did.”

“Remember that time you almost punctured dad’s lung?”

Aberdeen snorted. “Remember that time you almost broke mom’s nose?”

“Maybe we should do it again for good measure.”

The girls finally emerged from their room, finding Orla in the kitchen pouring coffee. Camden was dragging Mirza out of his room, Mirza playfully pulling him back in so Camden would slide on the floor. The family hugged each other before Aberdeen opened a cupboard to get the Chips Ahoy cookies. Camden snatched one right from her hands. She chased him around the house.

Opening presents was always fun. This year, Aberdeen was able to ask around the office for something for Camden, and she ended up with a Kyle Lowry Raptors jersey. When he opened it, he automatically loved it and hugged it like he was five and it was his favourite new toy. Aberdeen’s parents gifted her practical things – a chic new laundry basket and a nice throw she could use when she cuddled with Minerva and a bag of Doritos, and Siena bought her two new books she’d wanted to read. To his credit, even Camden’s gift was cute: a mug that said, “Cat hair, don’t care” in fancy lettering.

Once the gift giving was over and the family room cleaned of all the wrapping paper, everybody started to get ready. Orla began seasoning the roast beef and Mirza began preparing the potatoes. The kids showered and got ready so they’d look nice for photos and for their eventual FaceTime with their grandparents. Siena stayed on the main floor to begin whipping up the trifle. Aberdeen brought Camden to the downstairs kitchen with her to help with seasoning and roasting the Brussel sprouts and carrots.

“So what are the Maple Leafs doing today?” Camden made conversation as Aberdeen sliced the carrots and he laid them in their tray.

“Which ones?” she asked. “It’s not like they’re spending it together as a team. They’re all spending it with their families.”

“What’s John Tavares doing?” he asked. Camden knew much more about sports than she did. He found it genuinely cool that his sister was working for the Toronto Maple Leafs, even though he liked the Raptors a little bit more. When she told him how she sat with Masai Ujiri at the Major Donor Gala, he freaked out and bragged to all his friends. He was officially one of the coolest kids in school.

“Well, John and his wife Aryne just had a new baby in September, so this is their first Christmas with him. I think they’re spending it at John’s house with both their families there,” Aberdeen explained.

“What about Auston Matthews?”

“Auston’s entire family came up from Arizona – they’re having a big family lunch like we are.”

“What about Mitch Marner?”

Aberdeen smiled. “Mitch is spending it with his family, his girlfriend Stephanie, and his dog Zeus.”

“His dog?!” Camden’s face lit up. “Mom and dad won’t let me get a dog yet. They say I’m still too young.”

“Just wait,” Aberdeen encouraged him. “Mom will eventually want to replace me and Siena with a dog, and dad will be too powerless to say no.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. What kind of breed do you want?”

“I want a German shepherd.”

Aberdeen laughed at her brother. He always dreamed big, which was good for a kid his age, but a German shepherd would be bigger than him. There was no way he’d be able to handle it out on walks. “Aim smaller. What about a corgi?”

“That’s your dream dog cause of their butts,” Camden furrowed his brows. “If mom won’t let me get a German shepherd then I think I want a goldendoodle. Greg at school has one and it’s really cute.”

“Why don’t you just get a regular poodle and cut its hair really weird like that lady in 101 Dalmatians?”

Camden started to laugh as Aberdeen sliced the last of the carrots. She made sure they were all lined up nicely before starting on the Brussel sprouts. “We can shave the Toronto Maple Leafs logo into its hair.”

“Exactly!”

“Then it can become the team dog!” Camden giggled, liking the idea already.

Aberdeen and Camden stayed in the basement kitchen for almost an hour – enough time so that all the carrots and Brussel sprouts were sufficiently roasted and seasoned properly as Orla taught them. When the carrots were ready to be brought upstairs, Aberdeen made Camden put on oven mitts and told him to grab the dish. “Go run these up to mom,” Aberdeen said. “And absolutely no funny business. If these fall on the floor nobody in this family will forgive you.”

Camden did as he was told, going up the stairs slowly. Aberdeen stayed down for another ten minutes, waiting for the Brussel sprouts to finish before putting on her own pair of oven mitts and bringing the plate upstairs. By then, the roast in the oven smelled impeccably delicious and Aberdeen could already see most of the food on the table as she rounded the corner. Before she could move any further, Siena came through and blocked her passage and sightline towards the front of the house, a look of panic on her face. “Ab—Aberdeen,” she was staring at Aberdeen wide-eyed, like she’d just seen a ghost.

“What? What’s going on?” Aberdeen whispered.

“Hey.”

Aberdeen knew that voice. She knew that voice anywhere. She’d be able to recognize it from miles away. It was the voice that tortured and soothed her all at once. What was it doing here? In her house? Her head turned quickly like she was in The Exorcist.

And there he was.

William Nylander. Standing in the middle of the family room. Her family room.

With her mother.

Aberdeen was going to pass out.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, almost dropping the plate of Brussel sprouts at her feet. What was he doing here? What was he doing here? How the fuck did he even find out where she lived – where her family lived? And why did he have a glass of water in his hands? How long had he been here for him to have been offered a glass of water? Why didn’t she hear the doorbell? Why didn’t she hear a knock? Why hadn’t her parents called down to her in the basement to let her know he showed up unannounced to their Christmas Day family celebrations and why didn’t they—

“Aberdeen!” her mother scolded her as she walked towards her. “I know he’s a little early but that’s no way to treat the guest you invited.”

Aberdeen glared at William and then glared at her mother. She was almost rendered speechless by William’s stupid grin on his face. “I did not invite William to Christm--”

“Aberdeen, please, the Brussel sprouts,” her mother wasn’t having it, walking towards her and grabbing the plate from her hands, only to put it on the table.

Aberdeen looked at William, dressed in a nice pair of navy blue slacks and a fitted grey Ralph Lauren sweater with a collared shirt underneath. He definitely looked the part of innocent-hockey-player-come-to-spend-Christmas-with-a-welcoming-Canadian-family, but he wasn’t fooling her. Aberdeen looked back to see her mother disappear into the kitchen again. Siena was already gone, too. Good, it made it safe for her to cuss him out.

“How do I look?” he asked, waiting for one of her famous retorts.

He wasn’t going to get one. Not this time. He looked too wholesome, but more than that, he didn’t deserve one for crashing her family Christmas. “Seriously, what are you doing here?” she hissed as she stepped forward so she could get closer to him.

“Better than spending Christmas alone,” he shrugged his shoulders, the playful grin still on his face.

“I thought you were Skyping with your family,” she said, immediately regretting it. She knew Skyping was nowhere near close to spending actual time, physically, with your family on one of the most important holidays of the year.

“I already did, while I was having breakfast and they were having lunch. Six hour time difference,” he said.

“Will, I’m serious, what are you—”

“I thought you’d need a friend here after everything that happened,” he said quickly, his tone serious. His blue eyes looked into hers and every ounce of anger and shock in her dissipated. “I figured you probably haven’t told your parents, and definitely not your brother, but I know you told Siena, and I just thought it would be nice for you to have a friendly face around beside your sister that…I don’t know…might make Christmas more fun.”

He knew her. He knew he so well that she almost hated it, but mostly found it so admirable and so damn…cute. He knew that she’d only tell Siena because Siena was the person she was the closest to in the world, and he knew she wouldn’t tell her parents because…well, because they didn’t need to know their daughter got sexually harassed at work. She didn’t know what she was feeling right now. “How do you even know where my parents live?”

That trademark grin came back. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Aberdeen! You didn’t tell me William Nylander was coming for Christmas!” Camden’s voice rang from behind her. She turned around to see her brother with his arms crossed playfully around his chest. “Would have been nice, you know.”

“I guess I forgot,” she said absent-mindedly. She couldn’t believe this was happening right now. She couldn’t believe William was at her house for Christmas; that he was going to be spending Christmas with her family because, well, it wasn’t like she could kick him out onto the street now.

“Did you see I brought a dessert?” William said, his voice upbeat as he looked at Camden. “I picked up some treats from a Swedish bakery in downtown Toronto.”

Camden’s eyes lit up at the words. “Double dessert!” he screamed. “Siena made a trifle! You’ll like it. It’s got strawberries in it.”

“Alright! Everyone to the table!” Orla’s voice boomed throughout the house. “Is the wine on the table? Are there drinks?”

“Does everybody have a spot?” William whispered to Camden.

Camden nodded his head quickly before pushing William to the opposite side of the table. “Mom sits at the head,” he pointed, “Siena sits there, dad sits there, I sit at the other head, and then Aberdeen sits here.”

“So I guess I’m sitting—”

“Right here,” Camden took out the chair for him.

William took his seat. Aberdeen slipped into her seat beside him, still staring at him like he wasn’t real. Siena took her seat, then Mirza. Camden last. Then Orla brought in the roast, smelling absolutely delectable. William’s eyes widened at how good it looked. Everybody brought their plates forward and she put a few slices of the carved meat and gravy onto everyone’s plates – only then did the other dishes get passed around to fill up their plates: the Yorkshire puddings, the roasted potatoes, the Brussel sprouts, and the carrots.

“Are you Catholic, William?” Orla asked as she sat down at her seat.

“No ma’am.”

“Well, Christmas and Easter are the only two days of the year that we pray before our meal,” she informed him. “So, congratulations. Camden, why don’t you say a Hail Mary.” William watched as everybody around the table except Mirza did the sign of the cross, though Mirza did bow his head in respect. William quickly followed with his own sign of the cross. He listened as Camden recited a Hail Mary. When he was done, Orla spoke up again. “Lord, we would like to thank you for bringing us together to celebrate your birth, and we would like to thank you for bringing us William today to celebrate with our family. Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone said.

“Hallelujah!” Camden exclaimed, grabbing his fork. Everyone else did too, while Mirza stood up to start pouring the wine in everyone’s glasses, save for Camden.

“So you mentioned your family is in Sweden, William?” Orla asked, slicing her roast beef in pieces. “Whereabouts?”

“Most of my family is there, right in Stockholm. But I have a brother living in Chicago who also plays hockey. My sister Jacqueline is also in Texas at SMU playing tennis, but she was able to get home for Christmas,” he explained.

“And where’s your brother in Chicago going?”

“He has a teammate and his family. He lives in their basement,” William smiled.

“Orla has a habit of wanting to feed the entire congregation, if you know what I mean,” Mirza smiled from across the table. “Clearly Aberdeen knew, since she invited you.”

Aberdeen wanted to say that she didn’t, that he was hear because he somehow found their address and wanted to make her life a complete circus, but she decided against it. It was Christmas, after all. “Yeah, well when Aberdeen offered, I thought it was so nice, but I didn’t want to intrude,” William said from beside her. She could have killed him right then and there.

“Intruding? What are you intruding on? The more the merrier. And God knows I make enough roast,” Orla commented. “Besides, it’s not the first time Aberdeen’s brought something home and said ‘Surprise!’.”

“We all love Minerva and she is a great cat,” Aberdeen said firmly before anyone else could say anything.

Conversation flowed nicely. William was a natural, Aberdeen thought, and she chalked it all up to his endearing charm – his best quality. Well, at least to Aberdeen. It was what attracted her to him in the first place. That and the fact that he was so persistent. But everybody seemed to take a liking to him, and despite being the only person at the table who knew what had happened between them, Siena was surprisingly calm, warm, and chatty. Camden was an everyday 11 year old, asking William about the Leafs and if he’d met any Raptors and what playing hockey was like. He made them smile. He made them laugh. He made them love him. It was all so sickeningly sweet.

Camden cleared the dishes and Aberdeen cleared the food platters and Orla and Siena fetched the desserts. Mirza stayed to keep William company at the table. Aberdeen watched as Orla scooped all the remaining leftovers into a Tupperware – Aberdeen knew she’d give it to William when he left, and now she was stuck thinking about how William was going to return one of her Tupperwares without anybody on the team or in the offices knowing. It sent her head for a bit of a spin until Camden almost knocked her out with a swinging fridge door. “Camden, get the dessert plates on the counter,” she ordered, and he did as he was told. She got the trifle out of the fridge.

“Show him mine! I was so much cuter!” she heard Camden exclaim from the dining room. What was he on about now?

Aberdeen turned the corner. And then she saw it.

William Nylander. Sitting at the dining room table with her father.

Looking through her baby book.

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. “Dad!!!” she exclaimed.

William looked up at her, the biggest, goofiest, most sincere smile on his face. “You were a cute baby, Aberdeen.”

She was mortified. She thought about walking outside and freezing to death because that would be a better option than what was happening in front of her. She set the trifle down on the table loudly, her jaw on the floor. “Dad, come on!” she complained. “I work with William! He doesn’t have to see my baby pictures!”

“Well excuse me for wanting to show off my two darling daughters,” Mirza waved off her complaint. “Besides, I can’t say no when a guest wants to see.”

Aberdeen glared at William, who still had that smile on his face. “Oh, you’re gonna get it when we’re back at the arena.”

“Am I?” he taunted her.

“Look! Look here! Siena at four, Aberdeen at two,” Mirza diffused the situation, pointing to a new picture on the page. “We sent copies of this one to Orla’s parents in Derry. They had it up for years.”

Aberdeen knew exactly which picture Mirza was talking about. She and her sister were photographed by a professional photographer, with Siena wearing a frilly yellow dress and Aberdeen wearing a pink one, equally as frilly. They were both smiling at the camera while sitting on some sort of box, and both wearing small, dainty necklaces. They were adorable, but William didn’t need to know that. “These are evil eyes, right?” he said, pointing to the necklaces they were wearing in the photo, a small smile on his face.

“We say nazar. It protects from the evil eye,” Mirza nodded his head. “They’re very popular in Iran.”

“What made you come to Canada?” William asked.

“The revolution, mostly,” Mirza said. “I was fourteen. My parents didn’t want me to stay so they changed my name and I escaped the country. It wasn’t safe for me anymore. I went to Syria first – to Aleppo – and had all my documents processed there to become a refugee. I came to Canada when I was eighteen in 1984.”

William was quiet and had a solemn look on his face as he listened to Mirza. It was so unlike any other story he’d heard before, in terms of people’s parents at least. He grew up with a lot of “My dad played in the NHL” or “My dad works in hockey” – never “My dad escaped a revolution”. It was very new to him, and he almost felt ashamed at the lack of diverse stories his friends, acquaintances, and all the kids he grew up with had in comparison to this. “And you chose Canada?”

“Canada chose me, I think,” Mirza smiled. “Look at these pictures here,” he said, flipping to the back of the photo album. When he reached the page, he showed William, and Aberdeen already knew what it was: the few pictures he had of himself growing up in Iran with his parents, some photos of him in Aleppo, and the first photos of him in Canada. “That one was the year before I left Iran,” he said, pointing to one, “and this one…the month I arrived in Canada.”

William smiled. He looked up at Aberdeen, who was already expecting his reaction. “Sugo hat outfit,” he said, like it was a code language. “Holy hell. You weren’t kidding, Aberdeen.”

“Told you.”

“Sugo hat outfit?” Mirza asked.

“It’s nothing, dad. William just has an interesting fashion sense. Very European.”

Mirza shrugged, letting it go. “Canada led me to Orla. Led me to have this,” he motioned around at his house, “led me to my job, led me to be a father,” he nodded towards Aberdeen. “Canada has been very nice to Orla and I, because even she had her troubles. Literally.”

“Troubles?”

“Orla grew up in Belfast and Derry during the Troubles in Northern Ireland. There was religious violence all around her growing up. Catholics versus Protestants,” he explained. “She came to Canada to escape it, too, in 1988. And it brought us together. We met in 1993 at our citizenship ceremony, married in 1995, and had Siena in 1996.”

William couldn’t help but smile. Meeting your future spouse at your citizenship ceremony as you swore an oath as a new citizen of Canada? “That’s the most Canadian thing I’ve ever heard,” he giggled.

“I know!” Mirza smiled along with him. “Orla married the mailman – I mean literally married the mailman. You should have heard all the jokes we got from her friends when she got pregnant with Siena. They never ended.”

Dessert and most of the afternoon continued as thus: retelling old family stories and recounting family memories as everyone devoured both desserts, with William explaining each of the Swedish pastries he’d picked from the bakery. They called their grandparents in Derry just as they were finishing, with William politely staying out of view, and then everybody relaxed around the house. William promised Camden he’d teach him some stickhandling tricks with the old sticks they had somewhere in the garage, “once my food baby has passed.” Mirza and Orla sat on the couch, watching the Christmas specials on TV. Camden opened and started to organize the pieces of a Lego set he’d received as a Christmas gift on the dining room table. Siena, Aberdeen, and William went down to the basement to “watch Netflix”. They got through one episode of Brooklyn 9-9 before Siena told them to sneak back upstairs into hers and Aberdeen’s bedroom for some alone time. Aberdeen tried to say no but William was already up. When he winked at Siena as a thank you, Siena immediately understood what attracted Aberdeen to him in the first place.

When he walked inside Aberdeen’s room, he thought that it was everything yet nothing he imagined all at once. A small twin bed, a stylish comforter, a view pictures of her with friends strung along draped string and a corkboard above her headboard. “So this is your room?”

Aberdeen nodded. “Well, used to be just Siena’s room. Then when the little monster was born we moved in together.”

“You didn’t care? Didn’t demand a room in the basement?”

Aberdeen shook her head. “I told you how close Siena and I are. I actually didn’t mind at all.”

He sat down on her bed, looking up at some of the pictures she’d hung. He recognized Kasha in one of them, and what he assumed to be other university friends. There was even a picture of the family together, for what looked like one of Camden’s birthdays. “You have such a nice house…” he started, looking around some more. “A nice, like, home. It’s very homey and just, like, perfect. And your family’s really…warm,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “They remind me a lot of mine. Close knit and stuff. You’ve all got each other’s back.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, sitting down on her bed next to him. “Does it…I mean, does it make you miss your family?”

“Tons,” he replied automatically. “Especially on days like today. But it’s okay. I know this summer when we’re all together it’s gonna be a blast.”

“I know…” Aberdeen began. “Listen, I know you don’t like to talk about your feelings much, but if you ever do want to talk when you’re really missing them…you know I’m here to listen, right?”

William looked at her and smiled. God, he got so lucky. “I know,” he said. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He paused, staring into her eyes before knowing he had to continue. “Listen…I got you something,” he said.

“You what?” Aberdeen was flabbergasted. As if enough didn’t already happen today. He saw her baby photos for God’s sake.

“I couldn’t help myself.”

“I really think you could.”

He sighed and smiled, reaching into a bag Aberdeen hadn’t noticed was there and pulling out a wrapped box, a ribbon tied around it perfectly. She had a hard time believing he wrapped it himself, but then again, he had a lot of siblings. That was his excuse for knowing how to do a bunch of things that he had no other logical explanation as to why he knew how to do it. “Merry Christmas, minskatt,” he said.

“I don’t have anything for you,” she blurted out, immediately regretting it.

“I don’t need anything. It’s fine,” he shook his head, pushing the box onto her lap. “Open it.”

It was small. Too small for her liking. She gave him one last look before sliding the ribbon off and ripping the paper. The box was neutral, which made her even more nervous. She opened the lid.

Inside, she was met with a ring. An evil eye ring made of yellow gold, with the centre of the eye bedazzled with a black diamond, circled by two bands of rich blue diamonds, and finished off with regular diamonds outlining and filling out the rest of the eye shape. Her breath hitched in her throat audibly as she stared at it and took in its beauty. She couldn’t believe William got this for her. She couldn’t believe he…he…

“I hope you like it,” she heard William’s voice say softly. “I know rings are…well, whatever, but…I saw it and I thought of you. It…it went beyond when you told me your dad was Persian. The blue…it sounds stupid, but the blue reminded me of your tattoo. The waves. Like now whenever I see anything blue I think of you and your tattoo and the waves and stuff, and…and—” he was rambling, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop, “—and I just figured, I don’t know, you always wear nice jewelry, nice rings, and this can be part of it. And it’ll protect you, according to tradition or whatever. And maybe, I don’t know, every time you look down at your hand and see the ring, you’ll be reminded of me.”

Aberdeen took every word to heart. She’d been looking at him the entire time, and her heart was so full by the end of his rambling that she couldn’t think straight; she couldn’t think of what to say, how to say it, how to thank him, how to truly express how much she loved it, so she did the only thing she could think to do. The only thing she couldn’t do.

She kissed him.

It was slow at first, and it took William aback – never in a million years did he think Aberdeen would initiate any kiss, let alone a kiss on her bed while they were alone in her bedroom after he’d crashed her family’s Christmas celebrations – but eventually, and gradually, the kiss deepened and became more passionate, with William’s hand going lightly to her hip, and Aberdeen’s hand resting gently on his thigh. They stayed like that for a while, just kissing on her bed, William absolutely basking in the feeling, as if a thousand lightning bolts were moving through his body all at once, having waited for months – six months – to feel his lips against hers again. It intoxicated him as much now as it did that night in June so long ago; perhaps even more so now, now that he knew what her lips felt like but was denied for so long, only to be given the luxury again. He was drunk on the feeling.

It was only until William couldn’t help himself, when Aberdeen felt a slip of his tongue against her lips, that she was brought back down to earth, only for her to pull away quickly. “Oh God,” she worried. “I wasn’t supposed to do that.”

William half smiled as he bit down on his bottom lip. “It’s not like I’m gonna tell anybody.”

She felt William’s hand on her hip move to hold her hand that was resting on his thigh. He held it so warmly, still looking at her, and rubbed circles onto her hand. His touch was so delicate, so tender. So unlike other touches she’d experienced, other touches she never wanted to experience again. “Will?”

“Hmm?” he licked his lips.

She finally met his eye. “I…I never thanked you for going to Brendan about…you know…” she trailed off.

His face shifted. “Aberdeen—”

“No – please,” she interrupted him, looking down nervously at their fingers that had now entangled with each other’s on his lap. She didn’t know why she couldn’t look him in the eye. She’d just kissed him, for God’s sake. “I never thanked you. Or Pierre for that matter. If you guys hadn’t gone to Brendan, I’d still have to be dealing with him, and…and I just…”

“Aberdeen, you don’t need to thank me for doing the right thing. Anybody would have done the same thing,” William said. “Believe me. Any one of those guys in the locker room would have done the same thing. Pierre and I actually made the decision to wait until after the holidays to tell everyone what happened so they wouldn’t get upset before Christmas.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows. “Why? They…they’d get upset?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course they’d get upset,” William said. “Jason would have gone insane if he knew. The guy has four girls. Auston, Morgan, Kappy – everyone thinks you’re a bit of nerd or whatever, but they’d all go to bat for you. And everyone’s gonna be really upset when they hear about it. Actually, they’ll probably get mad at me for not telling them so they couldn’t whoop Ethan’s ass themselves.”

Aberdeen never considered that. She knew the guys liked her well enough, but she never considered that they liked her enough that they’d be upset something like that happened to her. She never considered that they’d be protective of her in that way. For all that she was Brendan Shanahan’s executive assistant and on the administrative side of things, she never felt part of the team more than she did in this moment, in her room alone with William Nylander.

“Can you…can you tell me something?” William asked as he watched her think.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me…you know, what Ethan was doing?”

There was the million dollar question. Aberdeen didn’t want to admit why. She didn’t want to admit to William that the reason she didn’t tell him was because she didn’t want him to know, didn’t want him to get involved, didn’t want to endanger his position in any way with the team by him speaking up on her behalf. She didn’t want to tell him it was because she didn’t think it was worth it. But she knew she had too. She took a deep breath and shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t think you cared that much,” she admitted softly. “I didn’t think that it was…you know…worth caring about, even.”

It was William’s turn to furrow his brows. He looked pained, physically pained, at the words that had just escaped her mouth. “You’re always worth caring about, minskatt,” he said firmly, with no space to debate his tone or words. “You’re always…fuck, Aberdeen, you’re always fucking worth it to me.”

She couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth; couldn’t believe how much conviction was in his voice and how much he meant each and every word. Nobody had said those words to her before. Well – no guy had said those words to her before. She remembered Zane and how he refused to acknowledge how she wanted to become a writer. She remembered how, a second after she told him, William said she’d make a great writer even though he’d never read any of her work. To William, she was worth it; in every sense of the word, she was worth it. She was worth late night walks back to her apartment. She was worth sneaking into hotel rooms at night. She was worth calls to Sugo and paying extra to get dinner long after they closed down. She was worth sneaking around to get her phone number, and her parents’ address to show up for Christmas. She was worth spending whatever amount of money on a ring that reminded him of her. She was worth it. She was worth it all.

She moved closer to him again.

Closer.

And closer.

And…

“Aberdeen!” she heard Camden scream her voice down the hallway. So he apparently knew they were in her room. She and William moved at lightning speed not to be so close to each other. She shoved the box into her bedside table. Camden’s loud footsteps echoed down the hallway until they stopped outside her door.

Camden at least had the knowledge to knock. She’d yelled at him one too many times for him to forget. “Come in,” she said, her voice still a bit shaky from what had almost just happened.

He opened the door and stuck his head through. “William promised he’d play some hockey with me in the driveway before he left,” he said.

“William and I are talking right now,” she said quickly, trying to get him to go away.

“About what?”

“About work stuff.”

“What’s happening at work?”

“Camden.”

“Is Mitch Marner okay?”

“Can you give us maybe, like, five or ten minutes to solve this problem?” William asked. “I’ll meet you in the driveway after that. Practice your stickhandling so I can show you what to improve on.”

Camden nodded his head quickly and closed the door behind him as he rushed back down the hallway, yelling at his dad to open the garage and get his hockey stick. William looked at Aberdeen and laughed as she let out a breath in one long sigh, giggling to herself before shaking her head. “God…what am I doing?” she mumbled to herself.

“Realizing you’re worth it,” William said quickly, inching closer to her and kissing her again. It was nice, and it was innocent, and it was beautiful, and it was lovely, but it was also wrong. Aberdeen pulled back quicker than last time, but William didn’t seem to mind. He knew this kiss was gratuitous – an extra gift. “I can’t wait to see you on the plane to New Jersey wearing that ring,” he mumbled, grabbing her hand and holding it in his.

She stiffened for a second. “I can’t wear that to work.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s from you. Everyone’s gonna ask about it.”

“Have any of the guys, including Brendan, ever asked about any piece of jewelry you’ve worn before?” he deadpanned. Okay, so he had a point. “Besides, just tell them it was a Christmas gift from your parents.”

She shook her head. “You underestimate how good of a liar I am.”

“You spent six months lying trying to convince yourself you didn’t like me.”

She blushed. Okay, so he had another point. “Touché, Will.”

He licked his lips, biting down on the bottom one gently. “Why’re you so scared?”

“I’m not scared,” Aberdeen answered. “I’m just aware of how inappropriate this is and how much I’m starting not to care anymore.”

William smiled. And he leaned in again. But before he could kiss her again – helping as best he could to get her to not care anymore – Camden’s voice boomed through the house again. “Aberdeeeeen!”

She practically growled at another moment ruined. “Camden!” she screamed out.

This time, he didn’t bother to knock when he opened the bedroom door. He poked his head through again. “Do you know someone who drives a black Porsche Cayenne?”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows. As if she knew more than one person who drove a car that expensive. “My boss does…” she said.

“Well, it’s in the driveway.”

Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out of her head. She shot up from her seat and grabbed William and dragged him towards her closet. “Is that—” he tried to ask.

“Quiet.”

“Is that Brendan?” he asked as she practically tore her closet door off her hinges to open it. “What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t fucking know!” she exclaimed in one of those loud, frantic whispers. “Do you honestly think if I knew he was coming sometime today I would have let you stay in my house this long? Now shut up.”

“Aber—oooooowwwwww!” he protested as she grabbed the top of his head and pushed him down and into her closet like he was getting into the back of a cop car. He belonged in a cop car, Aberdeen thought, for showing up at her house on Christmas. “Aberdeen!”

“Shut up!” she said hurriedly, putting her hand over his mouth. “If you value your life as well as mine you will stay in here and stay quiet until I come get you,” she warned, closing the closet door in his face.

“Who’s that now?” Orla asked as Aberdeen hurried to the front of the house, where she saw her mother looking out the window. “We don’t know people who drive Porsches.”

“It’s for me. It’s my boss. Brendan Shanahan. The president of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” Aberdeen informed everyone. She saw Siena send a panicked look her way.

“Oh, did you invite him to Christmas too now and he just came late?” Orla joked.

“Is he here to see William?” Camden asked.

Aberdeen took a deep breath. She felt like her heart was going to explode in her chest. “Everybody listen,” she said loudly. “Brendan cannot know William was here…is here.”

“Why can’t Brendan know about W—”

“I’ll lose my job, okay?” she said quickly. Her parents’ eyes widened. “Brendan doesn’t like the players, uh…he doesn’t…just please, please don’t ask me to explain. Just take my word for it. Just don’t mention anything and…please be normal.” She knew Siena already knew. And she knew her parents were good for it – though she’d have to explain to them in more detail later. It was Camden she was worried about. She looked down at him. “You say a word about William being here and I take that Kyle Lowry jersey back and tell everyone at your school that you still sleep with Bubby.”

Bubby was the stuffed giraffe Camden got as a kid. He slept with it religiously when he was small, but he didn’t still sleep with it, though it stayed perched on his shelf. Camden grimaced but understood the ultimatum his sister was giving him – no kid would ever recover from that rumour being spread. “Fine.”

Their doorbell rang. Mirza moved to open the door. He couldn’t even see Brendan’s face – it was obstructed by a giant basket. “Oh my goodness!” he exclaimed, noticing it was teetering a bit. “Let me help, let me help!” he said, taking some of the weight of the basket. “Come in! Come in!” he moved backwards, and the two men balanced the basket on the half-wall that separated the entrance from the front family room.

Aberdeen felt like she was going to faint. Brendan Shanahan was now in her front entrance while William Nylander was stuffed in her bedroom closet. “You must be Mr. Bloom,” Brendan said, extending his hand to shake. “And Mrs. Bloom,” he said once he noticed Orla, shaking her hand too. “I’m Brendan Shanahan – I’m Aberdeen’s boss.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Brendan,” Orla smiled. “Aberdeen speaks so highly of you.”

He waved and smiled at Aberdeen. Then he noticed Siena and Camden. “You must be Siena,” he smiled at her, “and Camden.” Camden nodded enthusiastically and silently. “I don’t mean to intrude on your Christmas,” Brendan held up his hands slightly. “I just – well, my family and I are on our way to my mother’s house in Mimico. I’m an Etobicoke boy too, you see. And when Aberdeen told me her mother was another Belfast lass, well, I had to see for myself.”

Orla giggled. Mirza had a smile on his face. “Irish too, then? Well, with a name like Shanahan, how could you not be?” Orla quipped.

“I don’t mean to stay long – we’re already late as is – but I just wanted to pass this gift along as a token of my thanks and gratitude,” he said, motioning to the giant wrapped basket. It had an assortment of things in it that Aberdeen couldn’t make out because she was scared William was going to scream out from the closet or walk around the corner any second and then she’d be out of a job. She knew Camden would take it all apart the second Brendan left, anyway.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that, Mr. Shanahan—” Orla said.

“No no, I insist. It’s the least I could do,” he said. “I’m sorry for taking your daughter away from you so much and having her travel to every corner of this continent. I know it must be hard on you as parents.”

“It is,” Mirza said, “but she enjoys her job very much. She’s always letting us know about the cool things she’s doing or the cities she’s going to. She feels very fortunate to be in the position she’s in.”

“We’re very lucky to have her as a member of the Toronto Maple Leafs team,” Brendan smiled warmly. “Anyways, I’m so sorry for taking up your time,” he turned to leave.

“Don’t be sorry at all, Mr. Shanahan. This is a very lovely gift, thank you.”

As he stepped through the threshold of the doorway, he turned back. “If I want to drop by St. Leo and bring some of the boys, am I calling you?” he asked Orla.

“You bet your arse you are, because you’re not going to anyone else’s class but mine.”

Brendan smiled. “I’ll call you to arrange something, then. Have a very Merry Christmas.”

When the door closed, Aberdeen let out a sigh of relief. “Was that harmless enough, Aberdeen? Was it to your liking?” Orla asked sarcastically.

“Don’t.”

“Camden, go fetch mummy a card from the drawer in the kitchen so we can write a thank you note to Mr. Shanahan for this enormous basket full of…full of…” she stopped, eyeing the contents. Suddenly, she jumped up. “Oh Lord! Oh heavens it’s a basket of Irish and British goodies! And sweets! Oh, bless that man! Bless that man!”

Aberdeen didn’t care about sweets. She thought about William in her closet and rushed towards her room. She closed the door to her room behind her and opened the closet door to see him holding up her high school kilt, like he was examining it. “What the fuck are you doing with that?”

He smirked at her. “Can you wear this for me sometime?”

“Get out of there!” she ordered, snatching her kilt away from his hands as he giggled like the schoolgirl she once was. She hung it back up in the back of her closet. “You’re a perv.”

“Only for you,” he continued to giggle.

***

William held on to the Tupperware Orla had given him full of leftovers as he and Aberdeen stood on her front porch. Aberdeen made sure not to get too close; partly because she had a feeling that at least one member of her family was spying through a window, but also, because if she got close to him, she didn’t know what she’d do.

William had charmed her entire family. Her mother invited him back for Easter. Camden thought he was the coolest guy around. Siena understood now why Aberdeen was so drawn to him. And Mirza – well, Mirza just liked him. Thought he was a good kid. And he was a good kid. Despite his upbringing and despite his job being one of the stars of the Leafs, he was just a humble, polite, guy when he came over – just a guy from Sweden who worked with Aberdeen. Aberdeen thought that maybe that’s all he wanted to be when he was around her – just a guy from Sweden. Not William Nylander, hockey star. He certainly showed that he liked and preferred it that way.

“You’re coming to Jersey, right?” he asked. She nodded her head. “What about New Years?”

“I’ll be there,” she nodded again. “Kinda sucks that we won’t get to spend it here, though. I think this is the first New Year’s I’ll spend outside of Toronto.”

“Well it has to be extra special, then,” he smiled.

Aberdeen bit her lip. She didn’t know what that meant. A part of her didn’t want to know while another part of her did. “Will…” she began.

“Minskatt?”

“Why didn’t you ever move on from me?”

William was taken aback by the question. The notion was absurd to him. “Why would I ever want to do that?”

Aberdeen couldn’t believe his answer. Was there really nobody else for him? Nobody in Sweden that summer he could have had fun with? Nobody in Toronto he could call? She didn’t know why he insisted on his life revolving around just her when she’d barely given him anything the past six months, three of which were spent in two separate continents. Was he insane? Was she?

A car pulled up in front of the house, and Aberdeen knew it was his Uber. He glanced at it before taking one last look at her. “Have a good night, Aberdeen. I’ll see you Thursday morning.”

She watched him get into the car, watched it pull out of the driveway and drive down the street. When she opened the door and stepped back into her house, she saw Siena waiting for her. “You’re fucked,” was all she said.

Aberdeen nodded. If other people could see it, then she needed to start accepting it. “I know.”

230 notes · View notes

pidayforpi · 5 years ago

Text

Alistair Boorswan walked down the street, past the lamp posts, avoiding illuminated areas.

Beak’s down. Hands in pockets.

Everyone knew him. Everyone knew he’s having a bad day. Everyone knew why he’s having a bad day.

It’s all on the news: The famous film director experienced his first project cancellation.

He who once walked proudly under the limelight, he who once strode with his head up...Gone in a single day, in a single fire.

He’s the first to make a reboot of the legendary Darkwing Duck. Now he’s the first to have the egg broken before it hatched.

To make it worse, he’s the first to ever seek funding from McDuck Enterprises. Now he’s the first to be refused sequential funding from Scrooge McDuck himself.

To make it even worse, he’s the first to allow a child to lead a film production. Now he’s the first to have his film production destroyed by a child.

Once the reigning king in the sector, now a joke in the industry.

If it wasn’t for the “mask” around his eyes, everyone could see the swan had been crying himself to sleep every night since.

Alistair pushed open the café door, the motion ringing the bell hanging from the door frame. It was awfully quiet in the café. Nice. Alistair didn’t want more attention. He’d had enough fun talking to the paparazzis.

“The usual?” Asked the barista. The owl behind the counters questioned his patron as he put away his book.

Alistair nodded. “No decaf this time, Franklin.”

The owl barista signed. “You ain’t gonna be up next morning, sonny. Don’t be a night owl like me.”

“Day and night seem the same to me, anyway.” Alistair said as he picked his usual seat: Next to the glass wall, observing the streets. “I would rather stay up all night and sleep all day. I don’t have to deal with anyone this way.”

Even without looking at his face, Franklin could see his customer’s devastated expression. Shrugging, the barista started brewing Alistair’s favourite espresso.

“Whatever suits you, buddy.”

———————————————————————————————

The bell rang again as the coffee machine rumbled.

Franklin raised an eyebrow as he fixed the beverage, but didn’t look back. If someone wanted him dead, he would be dead no matter he noticed or not.

Alistair also didn’t notice. His eyes were so fixated on the street at night, his ears so focused on the sounds of the city, he didn’t realise he was no longer the only customer in the shop.

Let alone that customer was someone he didn’t want to meet.

“Good evening. How may I help you?”

No response. Except for the sound of something metallic being dragged against the wooden floor.

It wasn’t the first time someone weird entered the shop. The shopkeeper had seen it all. But from the reflection on the silver coffee machine, the late night customer was someone he knew. Someone everybody knew.  The duck sat in front of Alistair, dropping his huge chainsaw onto the floor with a thud. It was half the height of the duck, not to mention its spiked tip was stained with blood. The intruder took off his oversized fedora, and tossed it to his side. His feathers were ruffled and unkempt, as if he had just been in a fight. An odour of pungent sewage water could be smelled from his body. A crazed, blue-green colour could be seen from his double-layered irises. If it wasn’t late at night (and the blood-stained chainsaw), Franklin would had kindly asked him to leave the shop.

It wasn’t until the duck placed his order that Alistair noticed his new, unwanted coffee mate.

“A cup of cappuccino, boss.” Ordered the customer in his hoarse, sickly voice.

Franklin replied with a nod, hands still focused on fixing his last order.

“Roger, Mister Starling.”

Alistair snapped out of his ponder when he heard the name he had feared for a month.

He shifted his focused from the streets to the pale reflection on the glass window.

He’s right there.

Just when he thought fate had taken everything away from him, someone’s there to take his life as well.

Alistair felt his body move on its own, standing up and reaching for the exit. It was almost like a reflex arc. He didn’t have to know for sure the danger in front of him. He’s making a run subconsciously.

Of course, his unwanted guest wouldn’t let the host leave before being at least greeted.

“Sit down, swan.”

With just a command, Alistair was frozen in place. The chainsaw was not even touched, yet he obeyed the order as if his legs were being amputated.

He instinctively looked at his opponent, and he regretted that very moment. When his frightened eyes met the killer’s powerful gaze, the calendar on the wall shifted back to a month ago.

In a burning studio, a wide-eyed Alistair stared at the charged cannon. When it fired, he would be a goner. He knew the “props” cannons were real - He saw the kid ordered them, directly from the laboratory. Those particles weren’t just special effects. They were real, lethal electricity. One shot, and his fast beating heart would stop. It truly was a miracle Drake Mallard survived the attacks.

Alistair had never been more scared in his life. Nowhere to escape in the fire. Nowhere to hide in the rubbles. Running away was futile: There’s no way he could outrun a lightning bolt. He ruined Jim’s career, and Jim was going to ruin his life.

“Jim Starling never cuts!” was what Alistair heard when he rushed to the recording camera. Yes. The legendary actor never allowed any failure. Not by himself. Not by others.

Jim failed to eliminate him the first time, he’s probably finishing the job now.

Franklin took a peek at his back to ensure his patron’s head was still on his neck, and hurried with both orders. The only thing he could do to avoid a murder was to facilitate the conversation between the two artists.

On the other hand, Alistair sat down meekly, hands on his laps, legs hanging straight down. Opposite of him, Jim got himself comfortable on the chair as if on a throne: One hand on the table, another supporting his tilted head. He sat cross-legged, his right leg hanging lazily on his left one. The only thing left to complete his criminal mastermind persona was his signature grin, which showed his sharp, menacing fangs.

But Jim right now was wearing a frown instead.

Alistair wasn’t more comfortable, though. He started fidgeting his fingers, his hand movements speeding up for each second Jim remained silent.

It didn’t take long for the awkward silence to break, thankfully.

“An espresso for you, and a cappuccino for you, good sirs. Enjoy.”

Franklin emerged from behind his counter, delivering the beverages to the two fowls. After his last orders for the night were complete, he returned to his reading, yet keeping an eye on his clients.

Rich aroma soon filled the seats. Jim was the first to take a sip at his cappuccino. Foam covered the tip of his beak when he put down the cup. Alistair dared not to mention it, let alone laugh at it, no matter how silly it looked. He used to be a smug person, saying out what was in his heart without filter. But not when his life was at stake.

Alistair didn’t touch his beverage for half a minute. His hands were still holding themselves tight, his eyes fixated on the duck in front of him.

“Drink it, don’t be shy.” Jim reminded (or ordered, in Alistair’s ears). “I ain’t paying for your cup.” Followed by another sip of his cappuccino.

Alistair slowly held out his shaking hand, putting a finger through the middle of the cup handle, pulled his drink closer to himself and paused. However fragrant the coffee was, Alistair couldn’t afford to let himself get blinded. God knows if he put down the mug after a sip, a chainsaw wouldn’t appear at his neck?

He predicted Jim would be impatient with his hesitation and yell at him. But he was just taking his time, waiting for his partner to get comfortable.

Eventually, Alistair pulled the mug close to his beak, and drank. A rather large portion of his espresso, mainly because he didn’t want to put down the mug. He wouldn’t want to know how he would die.

But he felt no pain. No sensation at all, except for the scalding hotness in his throat...

Alistair literally spat out the liquid back into the mug, choking and holding his burnt throat in pain. Jim, on the other hand, burst into laughter, holding his abdomen while laughing loudly in his dry voice. Hearing his mockery, another hot feeling emerged from his cheeks and ears, which were red with embarrassment.

If a passerby saw that scene, they would probably think it was a carefree reunion of two old friends.

Jim grabbed a glass of iced water from the counter, which Franklin had already prepared after seeing Alistair about to drain the freshly-brewed, steaming hot coffee. Jim pushed the glass of water towards Alistair, who immediately gulped down the whole glass and laid back in relief.

Alistair really did let his guard down for a moment, before again realising who was in front of him when the person spoke.

“Feeling better, Alistair?” Jim tried to comfort, showing a kind smile. No one called Alistair by his first name, not even Jim when they first met. Always “Mr Boorswan” or “Director Boorswan”. Alistair looked up and into those eyes, this time in confusion instead of fear.

“W-what do you...want from me?” Alistair finally spoke. “If you want my life, just...d-drag me out into a dark alley and chop off my head. No need for crocodile tears.”

Alistair lowered his voice, visibly sulking. “You know I can’t defend myself...I won’t defend myself.”

It was Jim’s turn to stay silent.

“I know why you are here. I ruined your only comeback chance. I let that brat destroy the movie. I couldn’t get that geezer to support the production. I...didn’t cast you as the main character. Your main character.” Alistair continued, each sentence making him remember what happened just a month ago.

“So you are here to take revenge on me. This classy British director who knows nothing about children’s TV shows. Who only loves disgusting, gritty psychological thrillers. Who...”

Alistair paused. Then again, Jim probably already knew the truth.

“...who broke his own neck, ruining his own career, dethroning himself from his own industry.”

He felt his heart getting sour. He was just a centimetre from crying.

“I have nothing more to lose.”

“If you want me dead, just do it. No one will be sad for me. I’m just everyone’s laughing stock now.”

He could feel the black feathers around his eyes got wet. The street lights outside the window blurred.

Jim let go of his cup, looking down at his feet. If it wasn’t for the tears, Alistair could see Jim’s eyes were filled with sadness as well.

“Forgiveness.”

Jim uttered.

“I want your forgiveness.”

——————————————————————————————

The store returned to silence, the rumbling of vehicles could be faintly heard across the window.

Franklin took advantage of the silence to interrupt.

“Want me to leave, misters?”

“No, it’s fine. Just don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” Jim replied to the barista. If Franklin left, Alistair probably wouldn’t want to be alone with Jim.

Franklin nodded, before focusing himself into reading again, silently listening to the conversation of the two.

Jim turned to face the surprised swan.

“I’m here to apologise, Alistair.”

Of all things, apologising was not one of the reasons Alistair thought Jim was here for him.

“You aren’t the one to ruin the movie. I am.”

Jim put down his originally crossed legs, both hands on the table.

“I was selfish, arrogant, rude...I thought I was and would be the only Darkwing in the world. The one and only Darkwing...the hero on the TV screen in the past, the memory in the heart of those then children in the present.”

“When I knew Darkwing was about to return - from a child, no less - I was excited. Too excited. I was blinded by past fame and former glory, that the excitement channelled into wrath when I knew I was being ‘replaced’. In fact, there wasn’t a thing called ‘replaced’. Darkwing Duck is a character. Anyone can play him. Just because I was the first to have the honour doesn’t mean I have to be the only one. I was just being a grumpy old man on the outside, a spoiled brat in the inside.”

Jim looked up from the table to meet Alistair’s blue eyes, making a sad, regretful smile.

“Not to mention that was your movie in the first place. Your artwork. You have the choice to let anyone past on and receive the torch. You have the right to make Darkwing the person you imagine to be. I should have just stayed in the auditorium and cheered for you.”

“An artist’s integrity really is sacred and inviolable, eh?”

Jim quoted the motto Alistair had lived by, the motto that had brought him to the top of the industry, that had given him the fame he once had.

“I shouldn’t have acted on my own. I shouldn’t have barged into the studio. Hell, I shouldn’t even have met you in the office the first day. You would have done better if you didn’t have me in your life.”

Alistair had been blinking rapidly to hold back tears, but now it was too much for him to bear. Alistair never thought that Jim would say sorry to him. Alistair never expected anyone would say sorry to him. But now, it’s as if someone was there to take the blame with him, standing up for him in front of the crowd. Someone was there to share the pain. Someone was there to be with him.

“I’m sorry, Alistair.”

Jim could see the swan sniffing and whimpering, his eyes twinkling with tears. Just after he said his apology, Alistair burst into tears. Teardrops ran from his mask to his cheeks, dropping onto the now warm espresso. Wails echoed throughout the coffee shop, cries filled the café. Alistair wiped the tears with his purple scarf, but a long accumulated cumulus would had to rain for a while.

Jim moved to the opposite bench, and gave the weeping swan a hug. Jim never knew how to comfort someone - He never would nor had to. Awkward it might be, he really wanted to do something for Alistair.

Surprisingly, Alistair hugged back. He couldn’t care more, whether the duck had any plans in mind, or just wanted to literally stab him in the back. He had been crying alone for so many nights, it felt like a blessing to have someone willing to lend a hand.

At least for one night, Alistair wouldn’t have to cry himself to sleep.

———————————————————————————————

“Okay, I’m good now.”

Alistair sniffed and rubbed his eyes one last time, before gently pushing Jim away. Jim pulled his cup from across the table, and pushed Alistair’s mug towards him. He emptied half of the cup in a single gulp, before returning to his rude self.

Alistair looked at the his mug, seeing his reflection on the liquid surface. He looked even more pathetic after crying, but his heart felt lighter.

Just when he was about to finish his drink, a strong, choking smell replaced the coffee aroma, making Alistair scrunched his face up.

Jim put down his cup to see Alistair staring at him while holding his nose. He stared back with a puzzled expression. “What? Coffee’s gone sour?”

Alistair shook his head, still holding his nose and breath. He pointed at the filthy duck in front of him with his other hand, and managed to whisper without using up much air. “You...stink.”

Jim blinked for a few seconds, and sniffed his body like a stray dog. He then retaliated, shrugging. “Then are you lending me your cologne, pretty boy? It doesn’t seem like you have used it for a month, anyway.”

“And your hair.” Jim continued, pointing at the swan’s supposedly groomed hair. “You look even worse than that Dorkwing boy. Don’t tell me the greatest director of all time can’t even afford a comb?”

“You were saying?” Alistair pointed back at the duck’s feathered whiskers. “You look like you haven’t taken a shower in a month. Don’t tell me the mightiest crime lord of all time can’t even afford a bath?”

Jim sat back, arms crossed. “Yes, I haven’t. Deal with it. It doesn’t seem like you have, either.”

“I...” Alistair paused mid-sentence, not wanting to admit the fact that he hadn’t been taking care of himself. It had been a month, and he already looked as though he was stranded on a deserted island for a year.

Jim sighed, putting a hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “Listen, you are one of the most talented persons I have met. From the papers to the TV, I have learnt a lot about you. Even my team knows you, Alistair! Some people may mock you for your failure, but many more are sad about it.”

Alistair looked up from the ground, turning to face Jim’s warm smile.

“A lot of people desperately waited for ‘Darkwing: First Darkness’, and despaired when it got cancelled. After all, who wouldn’t like a childhood reminiscence, brought to them by the one and only Alistair Boorswan? You don’t know how many people are sorry for you, how many people are cheering you on, waiting for you to come back.”

“McDuck won’t fund the movie? Glomgold and Waddles will! One wants to beat McDuck, while the other wants to get onto the red carpet. Find that Mallard kid - He is more than willing to cosplay. You’ve got the script done, the movie will be done in a jiffy. Make Darkwing a thing. Make your dream a thing. We are all artists, and artists got to do what they think is art.”

Jim picked up his fedora, rubbing its scratched brim edges. “I won’t be able to join you on set this time, but reserve a seat for me at the premiere. Five seats, to be exact. I’m sure my boys would beg to see it.”

The duck suddenly put his oversized hat onto Alistair’s head, covering his eyes. Alistair protested a bit, before struggling to get the accessory off. He held the worn-out fedora tightly with both hands, about to return it to its owner before being declined.

“Keep it. Consider it a parting gift. For now, at least. We will surely meet again, Alistair.” Jim winked at the swan, who put on the hat after a nod.

“Before then, don’t go dying, m’kay? I’m waiting to kidnap you at the prize-giving ceremony, so don’t prepare too long a speech. Alright?” Jim held out his cup towards Alistair, signalling a “cheers”.

Alistair took a silent deep breath to suppress his surging emotions, and held out his own mug, bumping the duck’s cup.

“Alright. I promise.”

———————————————————————————————

“They’re on the house, celebs.”

Franklin confirmed when Alistair was about to take out his wallet.

“That’s for your patronage.” The owl barista motioned to Alistair with his book, and then shifted to Jim. “And that’s for not making my shop a crime scene.”

Jim snickered, and picked up his chainsaw from the floor. “Thanks, boss.”

“Thank you, pal.” Alistair smiled at Franklin, waving goodbye with his new red fedora before being stopped.

“One thing in return, director.” Alistair looked over his shoulder to face his old friend.

“Make that six seats, capiche?”

———————————————————

(I don’t really have much to say but I want to say something)

-I lost track of when I started writing this. I finished it on July 7, and coincidentally, the local TV broadcasted “The Duck Knight Returns!” (DT17 S02E16) on July 5.

-Also I couldn’t think of an interesting title.

-I really want to see more of Alistair Boorswan (or at least, Jim Starling, please?) in Season 3. I really like Alistair he’s so cute okay?

-sorry edgar wright

(I blame @sheepmouse for my sudden surge of interest in Alistair Boorswan/Jim Starling.)

#alistair boorswan #jim starling #negaduck #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #the duck knight returns #story #short story #storyteller

46 notes · View notes

yououghtaknow · 5 years ago

Note

30. oooh i like your new blog theme that's hot af. oh and 25 talk 2 me about bresther

thank you so much <3 your blog, as always, is very hot and sexy too <3

25. tell us about a ship that isn’t endgame

well bree/esther in skam brighton season 1 is really “what’s better than one cool out wlw girl? TWO cool out wlw girls!!!”. and then we learn that they both have a Lot of internal issues but it’s all good <3. it’s about friendship and silently supporting each other at all times. in season 1 they have each other’s backs So Much and esther does canonically lowkey have a crush on her in that “oh i want to be her friend so bad” way, and bree just really genuinely respects esther. it’s about the both of them being noora/sana combinations in a way and they’re vibing together.

honestly every non-romantic dynamic in the girl squad is romantic though??? thinking about the girls all carrying rori home. being the only ones there for sandy when she was outed. calling an ambulance for liz. taking bree to the doctor. helping esther when she has Anxiety about her perfectionism. when liz wanted a friendship club and esther wanted a theatre club and they ended up getting both. when they had a sleepover and talked about their deepest feelings and then danced to cheesy music. when they watched twilight together and ate popcorn and then decided they wanted to get chips as well. the power of intense female friendships. they are all deep in best friend love with each other. and a lot of them are in romantic love with each other. the line between the two is very thin <3.

oh shit i realised this is the “ship that isn’t endgame”. well. the girl squad being all romantically together isn’t endgame. their friendship is. so please still enjoy my infodump about my love for them.

30. free choice! just give us some fun facts about it!

oh baby i love oversharing fun facts about my writing.

okay. my one of my favourite things that i’ve done with this show is the bree and al sibling reveal. i wanted to go full deep cheesy cw show shit with it. i wanted The Drama.

i had it planned from season 1, where it’s casually mentioned in the last clip that jake’s looking sadly at “a group of people and a kid with a video camera”. those people? alistair fletcher and his theatre kid friends baby! i was sowing the seeds early. and in season 2, i wanted to introduce ellie as a Minor Antagonist, with her bullying bree, and al just came along with that (kind of the sara to ellie’s ingrid). then, in season 3, al is Fully Introduced in all of his even glory, and we get to see him and bree interact. in all of the scenes with al and the girl squad, bree is either mean to him or straight up walks away. and their relationship is one that i love writing so much, as they are such mirrors of each other (as so, so many characters are (because i’m projecting all of my being onto them)). but still. it’s about the elias/sana “when you’re sad i’m sad” dynamic and the even/sana secret dynamic and the nick healy/frankie healy and the superboy and the invisible girl of it all.

also, when i was 14, i was in a drama club. we were asked to perform monologues one day, on the spot, and i, being an idiot, decided to go first. i panicked on the spot and pulled up sandy’s monologue to bryan from the last episode of season 1 and performed that to a class of stunned 11-14 year olds and one confused thirty year old teacher. yes this really happened and yes everybody did clap because they had to by the laws of the class. and soon after that i dropped out due to Mental Illness, so they never saw me again. bold and iconic of me to do though.

#skam brighton #isaac speaks #i clap my hands delightedly like a victorian schoolboy #infodump time! infodump time!#skam brighton spoilers

3 notes · View notes

djohnhopper · 5 years ago

Video

youtube

FAVOURITE MUSIC VIDEOS: Artist: The Irrepressibles Track: LET GO (Everybody Move Your Body Listen to Your Heart) (may 2020).

CREDITS: Directed by Savvas Stavrou. Producer - Ailsa Vanessa Tapping. Executive Producer - Sasha Nixon. Production Company - Forever. Director of Photography - Matthew Emvin Taylor. Cast - Alistair Wroe & Paaliba Abugre. Dancers - Deji Tiwo, Eliza May Jackson, Mairi Houston, Anthony Welwyn, Rosie Reith, Mitchell Marion, Anna Engerstrom, Matthieu Renaudin, Josh Orome, Le Fil, James Ormiston, Joseph Wilson, Sarah April Lamb. Casting Director - LANE Casting - Celine Poplawska. Focus Puller - Thomas Nicholson. Clapper Loader - Jonny Lewis. Digital Image Technician - Davo McConville. Grip - Carlo Vera. Gaffer - Aaron Szogi. Sparks - Alejandro Restrepo Celis, Zoe Williams, Ciprian Stroiny. Lighting Designer - Rob Tiefton. Lighting Desk Op - James Dickson. Choreographer - Simon Donnellon. Costume Designer - Marianthi Hatzidiki. Production Design - Daniel Draper. Hair & Makeup Artist - Elle McMahon. Hair & Makeup Assistant - Sogol Razi. Editor - Gary Coogan (The Quarry). Colourist - Jonny Thorpe (Glassworks). 1st Assistant Director - Peter Stephanou. 2nd Assistant Director - Femi Anderson. Production Manager - Edvin Dubrovskiy. Production Assistants - Chloe Stavrou, Stefani Nedanova. Music by The Irrepressibles (aka Jamie Irrepressible). Produced by Jamie Irrepressible. Mixed by Anders Bjelland. Video Commissioner - Daniel Harding // Zinglyng. Special thanks: Lewis Partovi, Matthew Suddaby & George Rumsey at Panavision, Karine Gama at Panalux, Ana Acomanoai at Green Kit, Andy Brierley, Coline Bach, Jenn Sanders at The Quarry, Chloe Ensor at Glassworks, James Newmarch and Mihai Bumbu at FOLD, Henry Bennett, Phil Walker, Steve Wells, Philip Brown, Alexandra Matheou, Marianna Xenophontos, Michalis Christodoulou, Christina Ntetsika, Marina and Stavros Stavrou.

1 note · View note

slothssassin · 6 years ago

Text

OC introduction - Ashera Mahariel

I thought it would be neat to have a single post that summarises the most important facts about an OC, so I made this meme.

@everyone: Feel free to use it to introduce your OCs, and tag me in it!

I’ll specially tag @briarfox13 (thanks for your help with this!), @occorner, @marvilus73, @wastelandwandererstuff, @wolfsmist, @sternenstaub28, @eluvisen, @liaorban and @overboss this time, in case you’d like to do this too!

Fandom: Dragon Age Origins

Role: Grey Warden

Class (if applicable): Rogue

Specialisation (if applicable): Ranger | Duelist

BASICS

Full Name: Ashera Mahariel

Nickname(s): Ash

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Straight

Occupation and Titles: Hero of Ferelden, Grey Warden

Birthday & Age: 5th day of Wintermarch, 9:08 Dragon, 23 in DAO

Physical description: 1,65m (5' 5"), slim and muscular, long silvery white hair, dark red eyes, dark skin

Clothing style: Tunics, leather corsets, wide blouses, fur and leather. Mostly green, brown and blue tones.

BACKGROUND

Ashera grew up amongst the Dalish Elves of Ferelden. She was born to a small clan and grew up with her parents. Her father Ahlber taught her the art of hunting, until he died while protecting her from a wild bear. Ashera never forgave herself for losing her father in that way, always blaming herself. 4 years later, her mother disappeared without trace, when Ashera was 15. Countless hunting parties set off to find Anisha Mahariel, yet all they were able to find was an amulet Ashera’s mother used to wear. Losing both her parents was hard for Ashera until she found her own way to deal with the anger inside her: She learned how to fight properly against enemies, also mastering the art of stealth and lock picking.

Leaving her clan behind when Duncan recruited her in 9:31 Dragon wasn’t as hard as it should’ve been for Ashera, and on late evenings she often felt guilty about it. Being with the Grey Wardens meant one thing to her: Going on an adventure, finally seeing more of the world than only her clan. She neither expected to find herself in the middle of the Battle of Ostagar nor did she think she’d be left as the leader of the Grey Wardens so soon. Gathering her party taught Ashera to be more courageous, to say what’s on her mind and that not everybody has the same worldview as Dalish Elves. While she got along very well with all of her companions, she found a mother figure in Wynne and grew very close to her. It didn’t take much to fall for her fellow Grey Warden Alistair either – in him she found exactly the comfort she was looking for.

After the Blight Ashera and Alistair used all their connections to reestablish the Grey Wardens. For months they were looking for new recruits, teaching them how to fight and sharing their knowledge of Darkspawn. They also got married in a private ceremony, having their old friends as guests. A year after her coronation, Queen Anora was killed by a mad supporter of her father Loghain though and the burden of ruling Ferelden now fell into Alistair’s hands, although he still didn’t feel comfortable with it. After a lot of heated discussions, Alistair agreed to be king, but only under the condition that Ashera could live with him. Officially, she’s not the Queen and King Alistair never got married - but every attentive Ferelden learnt sooner or later that their King was secretly in love with a Dalish Warden.

COMBAT & SKILLS

Preferred fighting style: Sneaking up on enemies while her party distracts them, then facing them in a duel

Favourite weapon(s): Double daggers

Magic abilities: None

Special skills: She can summon animal companions. Also has a knack for finding her enemies’ weak spots

RELATIONSHIPS

Family: Clan Mahariel. Her father Ahlber is dead, her mother Anisha missing. No siblings or other relatives.

Love interest: Alistair Theirin

Best friends: Wynne, Sten, Morrigan, Leliana, her dog Brutus

PERSONALITY

Positive traits: Perceptive, helpful, caring, ambitious

Negative traits: Guarded, taciturn, over-thinking, critical

Likes: Books, jewellery, new recipes, soft blankets

Dislikes: Arrogance, lies, spicy food, big cities

Fears: War, failure, loss of control, crowded spaces

Guilty Pleasure: A cup of red wine, chocolate, a soft bed

Hobbies: Cooking, reading, spending time with her friends, wood carving, enjoying nature

#dragon age #dao #ashera mahariel #oc introduction

16 notes · View notes

cdralenko · 6 years ago

Text

a bunch of tag games!

i got tagged in a few of these at once and i felt bad for spamming everybody with 10 miles of me answering questions so here they are under a read more!!

i’d feel bad for making a ton of people wade through all of these so i didn’t tag anyone but thank y’all for tagging me, these were super fun and i appreciate all of you!! 💖💖💖

20 Questions Tag

rules: answer 20 questions and tag 20 people you want to know better.

i was tagged by @namackinnon!! thank you! <3

1. Nickkname - ains or ain

2. Zodiac sign - taurus

3. Hogwarts house - pottermore said ravenclaw and my harry potter knowledge is minimal at best so we’re rolling with it

4. Height - 5′5

5. Last thing I googled - king cobra conservation status

6. Favourite artists - oh oof elo, superfruit, and queen rn

7. Song stuck in my head at the moment - in the big blue world – finding nemo the musical, please help me

8. Followers - 1800

9. Following - 329

10. Do I get asks - once every other year but i’m also on here sporadically so that’s on me tbh

11. Amount of sleep - either one hour or like 12 there’s no in between

12. Lucky number - 24

13. What am I wearing - a very on-brand tank top for my url that says “alenko trash” and pajama shorts

14. Dream Job - a writer for vidya games tbh

15. Instruments - a very minuscule amount of guitar

16. Languages - english and uh. mando’a oops

7. Favourite song - sweet talkin’ woman – elo

18. Random fact - i spent $100 on a replica arc reactor this week because i love tony stark and have no self control

19. Aesthetic - 80s arcade games, a scratched pair of aviators, the flashing marquee above an old cinema, worn converse, piles of comic books, falling asleep on the couch to a favorite movie

20. Dream trip - this is so dumb but the dr pepper museum in waco omg. i also really wanna go back to disneyland in cali and visit london again but i’ve already been to both of those before so waco it is

----------------------------------------------------

comfort characters

i was tagged by @kelean!! thank you so much! <3

dragon age

alistair theirin anders hawke dorian pavus my inq, luciano trevelyan

mass effect

cdr shepard kaidan alenko legion

uncharted

nathan drake

marvel (mcu & comics)

tony stark peter quill eddie brock

(i feel like i have a bunch more but these are just. the Comfiest characters of all of them for me idk!!)

----------------------------------------------------

get to know me tag!!!

rules: once you’ve answered everything, tag 10 bloggers you want to learn more about!

tagged by: @kyrtsad u dork

name/alias: ainslee/boba fett’s gf

hair color: light brown??

zodiac sign: taurus

height: 5′5

hobbies: video games and wasting all of my money on cosplay supplies tbh

favorite color: red!

favorite books: the republic commando book series or like. percy jackson djghggjkh

last song I listened to: advaita shuffle -- the fratellis

last film I watched: what we do in the shadows

things I love: dragon age, tony stark, quoting unimportant lines from old movies

what brings me peace: pretending i never saw avengers: endgame

meaning behind my url: kaidan’s rank in ME2 (staff commander) abbreviated to cdr alenko. (aka lt alenko and maj alenko were taken)

#i love these they were fun #ain.txt #tag meme #non vg

2 notes · View notes

gingerbreton · 6 years ago

Text

Dragon age questions

Tagged by @bitchesofostwick thank you my dear ❤️

01) favorite game of the series? Origins by far. I love the story and the characters and how we were introduced to the world. Followed by DA2, I love the dynamic with the companions and how different it is to the first game. It’s also an easy nip in do a mission if you’ve not got much time. You’re not going to be stuck in the fade for hours!

02) how did you discover Dragon Age? I bought it as a present for my hubby (then bf) when it came out in 2009. We already loved mass effect but fantasy was more my thing than sci-fi (don’t get me wrong, I do love sci-fi) so the idea of dragon age was just fantastic.

03) how many times you’ve played the games? The first two I have played quite a lot. Origins maybe 15..? DA2 maybe 7? I’ve only played Inquisition once. The first two I tend to always have playthrough on to the go, whether or not I’m regularly playing it.

04) favorite race to play as? Human (not that there is a choice in 2). I don’t know why, but I’m more likely to play as an elf in other games. Maybe my need for power means I just have to be able to rule Ferelden 😬

05) favorite class? Rogue! I’m all about the loot! I get way too frustrated in DAO if I’m not rogue and I can’t open shit until we pick up leliana. I have been known to shout ‘what is the point of you’ at Daveth. I’m more likely to go mage in DA2 because you pick up varric so early (plus force mage specialty is the best).

06) do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time? I have to make a conscious decision to try and change my choices, otherwise I’ll slip into making the same ones over and over. Although to be honest, I love the story and still enjoy it even if I do make all the same choices. It’s your game, play the story you want to.

07) go-to adventuring group? DAO always Alistair, usually Morrigan, then either Lel/Zev (definitely if I’m non-rogue) or Wynne. DA2 always Anders and usually varric (swapping for Isabella for certain quests), I’ll take Carver in Act one and Aveline in 2-3. I can’t say I’ve played enough Inquisition to have a go-to group.

08) which of your characters did you put the most thought into? My warden, Ysabelle. She is far from DA canon though, her background is more like Daveth than Cousland. She does have a long fic in the process, featuring Aedan Cousland as well (my other properly formed warden oc), and she has taken over basically all my one shots and exists in multiple AUs now.

09) favorite romance? Alistair definitely but followed fairly closely by Anders.

10) have you read any of the comics/books? I’ve got the comics, the world of thedas books and the novels. I’ve read most of the 2 volumes of World of Thedas. It’s a fab reference and has some wonderful bits of history in there. I’ve just started Stolen Throne today and I’m loving it. The comics are a new addition to me, so I’ve had a flick through and they are beautiful but I haven’t read them properly yet.

11) if you read them, which was your favorite book? I don’t think I could chose! They are so different and they all add so much. I am in World of Thedas most often.

12) favorite DLCs? DAO Soldier’s Peak has an important significance for Izzy (plus you get a storage chest that levels things up!), but personally I love Return to Ostagar because I think Ostagar is my favourite location in all the games. I just think how breathtaking it would look with modern graphics. The idea and location were stunning enough back then. So yeah, any excuse to get back to Ostagar (plus fantastic weapons like Maric’s sword and Duncan’s).

13) things that annoy you. How slow combat is in DAO. It can feel like it takes 5 mins to get to a spot where it’ll let you stab someone, and by that point Morrigan has zapped them to death. In DAOA and DA2 being so restricted to when you can speak to your companions devastated me. I loved how much you could chat in DAO.

14) Orlais or Ferelden? Ferelden all the way!!

15) templars or mages? I am definitely a mage girl. No chantry sympathy here. Free the circles!

16) if you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one? Ysabelle and Aedan are in the same universe as wardens together. I haven’t decided on a canon Hawke for that universe yet though, let alone an inquisitor.

17) what did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc) Aedan’s mabari is The Bann. I can’t say I’m too inventive with naming with other names though.

18) have you installed any mods? Ugh I’m not sure I’m emotionally ready to talk about bloody mods. Got dragon age on pc for said purpose just this week and it’s been a nightmare of crashes and inexplicably disappearing npc hair. I’m very close to telling the pc to do one and go back to my vanilla Xbox gaming.

19) did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden? It would have been a dream for Aedan except for the circumstances it came about through. He resented Duncan for a long while. While Izzy would have been hanged for her repeated thievery in Denerim if she hadn’t ended up recruited (but like I say, she isn’t exactly a traditional DA origin).

20) hawke’s personality? Purple with the occasional blue flutter. My Hawkes are just plain sarcastic.

21) did you make matching armor for your companions in Inquisition? Nope

22) if your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change? Aedan would have stopped Fergus and the men marching to Ostagar so Highever was properly protected. Izzy would have come clean about her family’s past warden association and avoided disruptive drama to the group. Selene Hawke might well have thrown herself in front of the ogre near Lothering in the hope of saving her family from suffering the loss of one of the twins. An event she sees as the beginning of the end of her family.

23) do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon? Ysabelle is 100% against canon! Outside of the long fic, Aedan’s OTP is actually with @magpiesandmabari ‘s warden Yana Surana. They are a very entertaining couple.

24) are any of your character(s) based on someone? I suppose everybody’s ocs must have a bit of themselves in there. But I can’t say I’ve purposefully set out to create any character in someone’s image.

25) who did you leave in the Fade? I will never leave Alistair Theirin in the fade. Anyone else is potentially fair game.

26) favorite mount? I don’t have one

Tagging: @magpiesandmabari @laurelsofhighever @weirdnproudofit @allisondraste and anyone who wants to. Just tag me, I’d love to see it!

#tag game #dragon age

8 notes · View notes

rosykims · 6 years ago

Text

DRAGON AGE QUESTIONS

tagged by: @nordxz thanks so much !!! *heart emoji*

favourite game of the series?

origins! although inquisition is very close as well. inquisition was my favourite for a very time, but like midway through last year i replayed origins and it just felt.....so good. i really struggled with enjoying dao because of the clunky fighting system but an amazing mutual introduced me to a mod that lets u skip fights basically lol, so i was just able to focus on the story/characters/exploration of the game, which just....made me realize how immensely beautiful the game actually is, and i fell in love all over again aaaaa

how did you discover dragon age?

i was a huge mass effect fan ! mass effect was the game that motivated me to make this blog, actually, and obviously through following people i saw a lot of posts from the da community as well. so i bought origins and inquisition (i had NO idea there was a da2 until half way through awakening lmao) and tried to play origins but HATED it gtrhutgrhugtr and then eventually gave it another try like a month later and completely loved it and now here we are

how many times you’ve played the games?

not as many times as some people on here have - i would say origins maybe four times, da2 maybe twice, inquisition three times. but that also doesnt count all the timesw ive created new games and then abandoned them lol bc theres too many to count

favourite race to play as?

love me some elf booty ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

favourite class?

at first it was rogue dual wielder ! i played as a rogue in every single first-time playthrough and idk i felt that class has always been the easiest/most op. but in the last maybe 2 years it’s changed to mage. ive always been super intimidated by magic classes in every game i play but i LOVE inquisition’s mage classes/specializations and i can never go back now

do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time?

im so so so bad and i usually end up making very similar choices, but usually bc i just......replay the same characters every time hgtuhgtruhgtrui. i REALLY need to make more da ocs to explore more choices but....i dont want to lol i already have to many. i still havent sided with the templars in a playthrough like i just cant do it

go-to adventuring group?

i always bring my characters love interest with them no matter what, just bc its cute, but usually i try to evenly cycle the other characters around that. i always try to have a warrior/rogue/mage in every party. but sometimes i’ll go warrior/warrior/mage/mage especially if i need to focus on straight damage and a LOT of healing lol

my favourite parties would probably be:

dao - alistair + zevran + wynne (wholesome and also funny)

da2 - anders + fenris + merrill (SO much chaotic energy)

dai - solas + cassandra + cole (i just love them ok)

which of your characters did you put the most thought into?

ashara lavellan, my canon inquisitor who was never supposed to be canon tghtgurhtrg. my original canon inq was a trevelyan rogue, who was super nice and good. i made ashara so that i could actually play as an evil/mean character without feeling bad lol, oh and i also wanted to see what the deal with solas was bc i had heard his romance was good ;;;;) anyway that backfired and i ended up completely falling in love with her, and i STILL couldnt make the tough choices with her so i was like ok maybe she isnt THAT evil and now shes just..... the way she is now i guess lmao

favourite romance?

trhhtruih okay u guys KNOW its solas. u know. i dont even have to say anythiing about it bc...u fucking know

(alistair’s is very close tho)

have you read any of the comics/books?

i havent :(((( im such a bad fan but i cannot deal with ordering online and thats the only place ive been able to find them. im planning on reading asunder and the masked empire as soon as i get the chance (and the money) tho !!

if you read them, which was your favourite book?

nope

favourite DLCs?

trespasser ! its pretty simple and very plot-driven like u didnt have to worry about side missions as much as u would with other dlcs so idk that was... refreshing. but obviously i loved it just bc it was so beautiful and intense and sad (since my chara romanced solas obviously) and that music score????? unbelievable i’ll never be over it

things that annoy you.

can i say the fandom trghuitgrhutrhui

mostly the thing that pisses me off the most is the grey morality. writers trying to make everything deep and Thought Provoking like..... no jerry, slavery IS bad theres no alternative viewpoint lol??????? also the fucking whitewashing makes me see red.

orlais or ferelden?

ferelden!!!!! (*blows a kiss* for highever)

templars or mages?

mages <3

if you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one?

i only have like 3 protag da characters and they’re all canon, although emeraude is an au. so ella is my canon warden and ashara is my canon inquisitor, but emeraude does exist in that universe, bc i hc she befriended the warden and alistair when they visited the alienage, and she was very outspokenly angry and didn’t really give a shit that alistair was going to be heir. which alistair really,,, appreciated i guess? so emeraude is made his official elven adviser after his coronation but she also kinda helps out as a royal protector because she’s one of the only people in court they both trust completely lol. also she is....stronk.

and the only other characters i have for da are obviously side characters who are related to my canon protags so. they’re all canon as well lol

what did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc)

ella named her dog ser bark gthutgrhutghruihtr she thought it was cute ok

emeraude just went with barkspawn since alistair came up with the idea as a joke but she thought the joke was so bad she made them keep it as punishment vjhuightui

i dont really have a hawke oc but.....he named his dog shepard in my playthrough ! like from mass effect ;;;;)))

have you installed any mods?

origins is modded to hell and back and i genuinely couldn’t play the game without mods at this point. inquisition is slightly modded but im in the process of removing them all, and only keeping a few because my game runs pretty terribly with them installed

did your warden want to become a grey warden?

ella did ! but it was kind of,, a naive childhood dream, she had a really romanticized view of the wardens and she wanted a life of excitement and bravery and adventure, not really taking into consider all the bad things about it (and obviously not knowing the full truth about what it means to be a warden)

emeraude did NOT want to be a warden. she basically had to be dragged out of the alienage because she wanted to stay and protect her community. she never really enjoyed being a warden, although her friendship with alistair was its one redeeming quality

hawke’s personality?

uh i cant remember the colour/personality thing but he was a combo of funny/ethical. mostly there for memes tho.

did you make matching armor for your companions in inquisition?

for origins i do ! i always make sure alistair and ella wear the grey warden armour, as well as every warden in awakening. thats like, all theyre allowed to wear lmao.

if your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change?

ella would obviously change her family’s murder lol, and emeraude would at least try and change what happened at her wedding, to prevent shianni and the others from being hurt.

ashara would change romancing solas :((( she was so angry at herself after discovering who he was, and she felt weak and foolish which she HATES more than any other feeling, so she definitely wishes she had never met him for a long time. after she kind of processes it though, and learns to deal with her anger, her answer would be that she wishes she had saved the chargers. it’s the one move she made that actually keeps her up at night sometimes.

do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?

ghuitrhuigtrhugtr so many. canon? dont know her.

the biggest example would be that i hc king!alistair was at the winter palace during the wicked hearts level. because uh..... celene and the fereldan monarchs had been corrosponding for over 10 years, trying to build up rapport, of COURSE the king would be there to see who the potential ruler/s of orlais would be and whether or not he ought to be worried. like. im sorry but alistair was there lol you can’t change my mind. i also hc he helps ashara with information about the grey wardens during this chapter, because ???? it just makes sense??? im so angry i wish this was canon

are any of your characters based on someone?

ok it was unintentional but ashara reminds me of an english teacher i had in highschool who was very scary but also....really cool and i loved her. it was an accident but,, still counts.

who did you leave in the fade?

gtiturghtugh okay at the risk of pissing off EVERYBODY who reads this, i left hawke in the fade, even though it was a toss up between hawke and stroud. it was ashara’s fault tho !!! she would have 100% prioritzed an alliance with the grey wardens over like,, some guy. it broke my heart but yeah That happened.

favourite mount?

i like all the elk mounts mostly ! but i never use them bc they sound ugly af

tagging : @trvelyans @f3nharel @allisondraste @ensevens @tethraas @talizorah @fereldun if u are up to it <3 and whoever else wants to do this !

#/ long post #sorry this is so long i got carried away oops #dai #dao #da2 #personal

7 notes · View notes

kyogos · 6 years ago

Note

al of the asks you bastard

1 - A song you like with a colour in the title Azul e Branco é o Coração - Alberto Indio

2 - A song you like with a number in the title 45 - Shinedown

3 - A song that reminds you of summertime Champagne Supernova - Oasis

4 - A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about Special - Shinedown

5 - A song that needs to be played LOUD Heroes - Måns Zelmerlöw

6 - A song that makes you want to dance Party in the U.S.A - Miley Cyrus

7 - A song to drive to I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) - The Proclaimers

8 - A song about drugs or alcohol Hate Me - Blue October

9 - A song that makes you happy Shout for England - Dizzee Rascal & James Cordon

10 - A song that makes you sad Don’t Say Goodbye - Skillet

11 - A song that you never get tired of Just Drive - Alistair Griffin

12 - A song from your preteen years She Bangs - Ricky Martin

13 - One of your favourite 80’s songs Never Gonna Give You Up - Rick Astley

14 - A song that you would love played at your wedding Yellow - Coldplay

15 - A song that is a cover by another artist Zombie - Bad Wolves

16 - One of your favourite classical songs Moonlight Sonata - Beethoven

17 - A song that would sing a duet with on karaoke Clearly the only choice is Captain Jack - Captain Jack

18 - A song from the year that you were born Livin’ La Vida Loca - Ricky Martin

19 - A song that makes you think about life Shadow of the Day - Linkin Park

20 - A song that has many meanings to you Wonderman - The Rasmus

21 - A favourite song with a person’s name in the title The Diary of Jane - Breaking Benjamin

22 - A song that moves you forward Heavy - Linkin Park

23 - A song that you think everybody should listen to The Crow - Hurts

24 - A song by a band you wish were still together The Ghost of You - My Chemical Romance

25 - A song by an artist no longer living You Know My Name - Chris Cornell

26 - A song that makes you want to fall in love Sunday - Les Friction

27 - A song that breaks your heart Abrazos Impares - Rayden

28 - A song by an artist with a voice that you love Negro Sin Ti - Melendi

29 - A song that you remember from your childhood All Rise - Blue

30 - A song that reminds you of yourself I Am Who I Am - Lee Ryan

#my music is hot trash thanks for listening #music rec #long post #just in case the read more doesn't work #lmao #thanks bruh #fuuturetrunks #I also fixed the spelling mistakes bc im an idiot who can't proof read

5 notes · View notes

marvel-and-mischief · 4 years ago

Text

His Saving Grace Part V

Title: His Saving Grace - Maxwell Lord x F!Reader Words: 4400 Warnings: verbal abuse, alcohol, drunken behaviour, angst, swearing Synopsis: Maxwell takes you to a business gala, explains what happened on that unusual day, and meets a familiar face. But not everything goes according to plan.

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

A month passes in a flurry of meetings and spontaneous lunches with Maxwell, and being the odd one out whilst he spent his half a day a week with Alistair (Mrs Lord had decided that she trusted you enough to leave her son under your care). Though, by the third week Alistair had began to warm up to you, asking you questions and thrusting toys into your arms, urging you to join in the fun on the living room floor with him and his father.

Most of Maxwell’s conversations with you were about Alistair, or how well his new investments were doing. You didn’t elect to bring up what had happened in the restaurant a month ago, where he had you blabbering like an idiot with a silly schoolgirl crush, and he didn’t bring it up. You thought he might’ve, that it was maybe an indication that something was brewing between the two of you, but perhaps you were mistaken.

Though you noticed his hand would linger on the small of your back long after he had ushered you through a door, and he’d taken to kissing you on the cheek, a whispered ‘thank you’ on a Saturday afternoon when Mrs Lord had picked up Alistair and your work there was done.

But it was always respectful, professional.

One Monday you arrived at Maxwell’s apartment for lunch. Though you didn’t meet everyday, Maxwell was sure to telephone you most days and the night before he had been eager to have lunch with you to discuss something important. You begged him to tell you over the phone but he insisted he wanted to tell you in person. The excitement in his voice had you grinning and accepting his invitation easily.

He pulled you over to the island in the middle of the kitchen when you arrived and you saw it was lined with buttered toast and various jams, a cafetière filled with fresh coffee, plain croissants and a bowl of fruit.

“What are you up to?” You asked, teasing him and roaming you eyes over the delicious food as you took a seat.

“Must I be up to something to treat my favourite lawyer?” Maxwell looked genuinely affronted at your accusations before the mask slipped and a cheeky smile appeared on his lips. He fetched a bottle of milk from the fridge and a small saucer with sugar cubes on and placed them down next to your mug before taking his seat opposite you.

“Either that or you’re about to fire me,” you winked as you took a bite of your toast.

“Absolutely not! It would be like shooting myself in the foot.”

It wasn’t the most obvious of compliments but it still had you finding your slice of toast much more interesting than it was, unable to meet Maxwell’s eyes.

“I’ve been feeling very positive lately. With seeing Alistair every week and my investments working out. I think we should do something.”

“To celebrate?” You asked inquisitively, ignoring the part where he said ‘we’.

“Sort of,” Maxwell left his place at the island and picked up a pamphlet off a side table in the living room, “I saw this when I was out getting groceries. I would like to take you.”

Maxwell handed you the pamphlet. You curiously scanned the fancy writing, the black and gold color scheme, the illustration of a woman in a beautiful gown. It was a gathering of local business owners raising money for charity, or more accurately an excuse to dress up and have a party.

“There will be opportunities to schmooze and swap business cards but most importantly there will be dancing and copious amounts of champagne,” Maxwell seemed delighted at the idea, a hopeful look in his eyes as he watched for your reaction.

You licked the crumbs off your finger and thumb and started to nod.

“It’ll be fun,” you wanted to match Maxwell’s excitement but you had never been to anything like this, it was a whole other world to the one you were used to. But to Maxwell, this was a taste of his old life again, the glitz and the glamor of throwing money around until it sticks.

“It will be fun. You get to dress up and show everybody in the business world that you are the one to go to if they need help.”

You couldn’t help smiling bashfully. And yeah, maybe it would be nice to relax for once, let your hair down for a night, even show off a little. You were good at your job and everyone should know it.

But there was one thing nagging in the back of your mind. Maxwell had said he didn’t want this lifestyle anymore, was he really ready to go back into the limelight?

“Maxwell,” you put down the pamphlet in favor of reaching across the island and holding his hand, “are you ready for this?”

His smile dropped a fraction, a wistful look crossing his features as he gave your hand a squeeze. After a moment’s pause he spoke seriously.

“I cannot hide for the rest of my life. I must face the music one day, and what better way to do that than with a celebration?”

“But a gala for businessmen and women? You’re sure to bump into somebody you knew.”

“Perhaps. But these people won’t want to make a fuss. They’re all about appearances.”

“You’re sure?”

Maxwell chuckled, dismissing your apprehension.

“Everything will be fine.”

You hoped he was right.

Four days later you were sat in the back of a car Maxwell had hired for the two of you, bouncing your leg with nerves and staring up at Maxwell’s living room window as you awaited your date for the night to leave his apartment and join you.

You had brought your dress second hand, not sure if it was appropriate for the event or even if it was meant to match Maxwell’s outfit. You had no idea what was ‘etiquette’ at these galas, having never been to one.

You’d found a long dark green dress with thin straps over the shoulder and gold embroidered wildflowers in random patterns all over. You’d also come across an old black clutch at the back of your wardrobe from your clubbing days to go with it. You felt beautiful getting dressed up for the first time in years, even better that it was with Maxwell.

Speaking of which, when he came through the doors of the building you audibly gasped at how handsome he looked. His sleek, black three piece suit fit perfectly to his shape, whereas his everyday suits often looked boxy this one didn’t have the over the top shoulder pads and he looked better for it, more approachable in appearance. His shirt was white and had a crimped style and instead of a normal tie he wore a mint green bowtie, a fun addition that put a smile on your face.

Maxwell slipped into the car next to you, taking you in with a slow sweep of your outfit and an audible release of breath that had you second guessing your choices.

“You’re a sight to behold,” Maxwell admired you one last time before pointing to his bowtie and your dress, “and we almost match.”

You laughed, nerves dissipating as you allowed Maxwell’s compliment to seep in. Maxwell told the driver to drive on, unbuttoned his jacket and relaxed into his seat. He didn’t seem anxious to be going to a gala full of people. You were a little uneasy at the prospect of meeting people he might know, you had no idea how they would react to seeing him again but you were determined to have Maxwell’s back at every corner if you were met with conflict.

When you rolled up outside the museum you had to wait for arrivals in the car in front of your own to exit before you could. You watched as the flashing lights of the photographers were blinding the people walking passed them, and it took you back to when those cameras were shoved in your face during the worst time of your life. Would these photos be publicised? What would people think about you turning up to a charity event with a disgraced ex-oil tycoon?

Maxwell shuffled to the middle seat to grasp your hand in his, calling your name to take your attention away from what was happening outside.

“Are you alright?” The concern in his voice was genuine and the hand holding yours brought you out of your spiralling thoughts.

“I’ll be better once we’re passed them,” you pointed to the photographers but kept your eyes on Maxwell. He hummed and leaned over the front seat to whisper in the driver’s ear. Before you could question him, the car was driving away.

“Where are we going?” You asked in confusion.

“We’re going to enter round the back instead. I have some ties to this place so it should be fine,” Maxwell gave you a reassuring smile that had you instinctively leaning against his shoulder. It was comforting having Maxwell so close, you could smell his expensive cologne that reminded you of old books in a library and a little bit woodsy. Oh what you would give to be in his presence all the time.

The Smithsonian was a thing of wonder, even entering through a discreet back door away from the sparkle of the main event. After charming a security guard he seemed to know, Maxwell guided you with a hand in yours through narrow nineteenth century corridors, moving closer to the loud music at the front of the building. You passed dark locked offices and hurried through rooms with posters of animals and glass cabinets filled with artefacts far beyond your understanding.

“How do you know your way around here?” You asked as you took in your surroundings.

“I’ve been here before,” Maxwell’s reply was short, bordering on stern as he dragged you through the maze of corridors.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“No no,” Maxwell slowed down enough to bring you in step beside him, deliberately loosening his grip on your hand as he realised he had been clinging harshly and pulling you around the museum behind him. It wasn’t until you reached the gems and minerals department that you felt Maxwell stiffen up beside you.

“This is where it all began,” he confessed, pointing around the room in a generalised manner. You understood what he meant, but not knowing exactly what had gone down that day, you were confused as to how it linked in with a natural history museum.

“What happened?” You ventured, hesitant to push too hard on the subject.

“There was a stone I’d been researching for months and I traced it back to here,” Maxwell glanced over his shoulder to a door that led into an office.

“What sort of stone?”

“A Dreamstone,” Maxwell breathed, his fingers flexing around yours, “it granted wishes,” at your sceptical look he huffed out a laugh, “I know, it’s madness but I swear it’s true.”

He wasn’t playing a practical joke on you, that much you could tell, but how could a stone make your wishes come true? You decided for the most part Maxwell was sound of mind so it must be true, somehow.

“So, you took it? And made a wish?”

“I did. I wished to become the stone, that way I could grant people’s wishes and take a wish in return. I had limitless wishes, and I used every single one of them for my own benefit, to get more rich, more powerful, more evil,” Maxwell whispered the last word as he began to walk away from the department towards another corridor.

“You were already one of the most famous men in America, why did you need more?”

Maxwell let out a sarcastic laugh that made you jump. Thinking he’d scared you Maxwell tried to pull his hand from yours but you held tight, preventing him from doing so.

“I told myself it was for Alistair, to give him the world if he asked for it. I’m sure you and all your goodness would say I was misguided but the truth is, I wanted it. I said to myself, why shouldn’t I have everything I’ve ever wanted? Damn the consequences.”

You shook your head, disagreeing with the harshness in Maxwell’s voice and words. He wasn’t a bad man, you knew Maxwell was good at heart. The man he was describing wasn’t the man in front of you today. The man who had you entering the back of a gala because he saw how uncomfortable you were with the cameras at the front.

“I don’t believe you,” you stated adamantly.

“No, it is all true,” Maxwell argued but you shushed him as the music and the chatter of guests was getting louder. You came to an oak door and you knew the gala was on the other side. Before you opened it you paused and turned to face Maxwell.

“I believe your story but I don’t believe for a second that you wanted to be some king of the world. Otherwise why did you stop before you went too far?”

Maxwell opened his mouth to retort but closed it again, looking like a gaping fish out of water. He couldn’t come up with an answer that suited his self-deprecating view of himself. He saw Alistair in his mind’s eye, the answer to your question, but it would only further prove your point.

“We should go out there and enjoy ourselves, what do you think?” You asked, reaching forward to straighten up Maxwell’s bowtie. When you finished, you saw Maxwell looking at you with a sappy smile and a look you couldn’t put your finger on. Before you could ask, he offered you his arm and you took it, pushing open the oak door together.

You squinted into the dim, atmospheric lighting of the large room and paused for a moment to get acquainted to the loud music from the speakers on either side of you. The space was massive and could easily accommodate a couple of hundred people. There were cabinets of artefacts along the perimeter, skeletal displays hanging down from the roof, waiters walking around with trays of champagne. It was a world far from your own but you didn’t feel uncomfortable with Maxwell by your side.

You turned to Maxwell who nodded in the direction of the bar off to the side and up some steps. You let him guide you as you surveyed the dance floor, noting the guests were in deep conversations instead of dancing. You realised that this was the time to be talking to other business owners and swapping cards.

You opened your clutch and picked out the dozen or so business cards you’d had made and showed them to Maxwell as soon as you reached the bar.

“Ah, you listened to me!” Maxwell exclaimed with a delighted grin, waving down a bartender, “what do you want?”

“A cocktail?” You weren’t sure what you could order in a museum but Maxwell understood and ordered you something you’d never heard of before.

“You’ll like it, it’s sweet,” he assured you and took one of your business cards to look over.

“Is it okay?” You asked, a tightness in your chest as you awaited his opinion. You didn’t want to look stupid in the face of the rich and powerful.

“It’s nice, sophisticated and sleek, is that what you’re going for?”

You watched his finger trace the curvy triangle running from the top left corner of the card to the bottom right, a shiny pink against the matte black background. You nodded, certain it was exactly what you were going for. You had been a smart, capable and hard working lawyer and you wanted to bring that to your new role as a Career and Business Adviser.

“I want to be taken seriously,” you took back the card and shuffled them into a neat pile on the bar top just as your drink was placed in front of you.

“And you will be, you can do this,” Maxwell winked and it sent a warmth throughout your body.

When you were finished with your drink Maxwell directed you away from the bar and into the crowd. The nerves in every part of your body were on fire as you spoke to your first stranger, an older woman who owned a store in the middle of D.C. She spoke of the rising costs of renting her store and the trouble she was having attracting new customers.

You gave her advice that had her asking for your business card before you could even offer her one.

Maxwell’s hand was a comforting presence on your back as he urged you towards different people he thought would be potential clients. Some people recognised him with a look of shock, some gave him a wide berth but most people nodded politely or didn’t give him the time of day. You were too busy concentrating on your job for the night to notice, but Maxwell was grateful that everything seemed to going smoothly for you.

You were about to ask Maxwell if he wanted another drink when you spotted a tall, slender woman with long, wavy brunette hair on a mission to push through the crowd and reach Maxwell by any means necessary. You caught his eye, raising a questioning eyebrow but all he did was let out a long breath and face the woman who had a look of curiosity on her face. Her striking features, sharp jawline and pursed lips, set you on edge. You didn’t know whether she was going to slap Maxwell or have a very strongly worded conversation with him.

“Maxwell Lord,” she said, surprise in her tone and an accent you couldn’t place, but up close you thought she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. When she finally took notice of you she flashed you a friendly smile that made you weak at the knees. Who was this woman?

“Diana,” Maxwell greeted her nervously, urging you to his side and speaking your name to Diana who welcomed you with a genuine smile.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I could ask you the same. I thought you never attended these events.” So Maxwell was hoping to avoid this Diana, you realised. There was a tension between them that you couldn’t figure out. Were they lovers once? Enemies? It was a weird atmosphere that left you confused and feeling like a third wheel.

“I’ve been pushing myself out of my comfort zone recently,” Diana said with an air of mystery. You looked between the two of them, a frown etched onto your face.

Maxwell glanced at you and realised how this must seem and quickly went about to explain the situation.

“Diana helped me to see the error of my ways,” Maxwell spoke slowly, hoping to give you the hint of what he was referring to. You realised he was talking about the day he made his wishes, and this woman was the one who helped prevent him from falling deeper into the dark.

“Oh,” you gasped, nodding in understanding as Diana smiled shyly at the two of you.

“I simply reminded him of his humanity,” Diana seemed to relax once she caught onto the fact you knew exactly what they were talking about. She eyed you with interest, no doubt wondering how you and Maxwell came to be friends in the couple of months since the incident. You didn’t feel threatened under her gaze, instead it made you stand a little taller. You were proud at how far Maxwell had come since that day, he was almost unrecognisable from the mad oil tycoon everyone saw on their televisions and you hoped Diana could see that.

You didn’t notice how Maxwell was staring at you, a warmth settling on his chest as he admired your bravery. You could have shied away from this event, refused to attend with him and he wouldn’t have blamed you in the slightest. You were strong in the way Maxwell would never be. You didn’t need help to stand back up on your feet after everything you’ve been through, you were unafraid to walk the world with a target on your back from being seen with him. He thinks you would still stand proud, head held high even if you knew Diana’s true character.

Diana saw the look Maxwell was giving you and took it as her cue to leave. She didn’t need to keep an eye on this Maxwell Lord, not when you were there to keep him on the straight and narrow path of goodness and truth. Five minutes was all it took for Diana of Themyscira to see you were his saving grace.

“I will leave you both to it,” Diana nodded to Maxwell and turned to leave but came to a stop just as quickly. You looked to see what she was doing and saw her wide eyes turn on Maxwell.

You weren’t sure what was going on but you knew it wasn’t good when Maxwell grabbed your hand and pulled you into his side roughly. You would have grumbled your objection but you saw the fear on his face as he frantically looked around the room.

“What is it? What’s wrong Maxwell?” You urged him to answer you, but he didn’t need to because out of the corner of your eye you saw a man tripping towards you from the bar, clothes askew and holding an empty glass.

“You should be behind bars!” He pointed rudely at Maxwell who silently guided you to be completely shielded behind him.

“Sir, I think you’ve had a few too many-“

“You ruined my life!” The man exclaimed. He was close enough that he would have shoved his meaty finger into Maxwell’s chest but quick as lightning Diana forced her body between the two men and had the stranger’s finger held tight in her fist.

“You don't want to do that,” Diana spoke quietly, but there was a threatening undertone to her words that shocked you. You moved to lean into Maxwell’s ear whilst Diana tried to talk the man down.

“Let’s leave,” you said softly, seeing the sadness in Maxwell’s eyes now you were closer to him. You attempted to smile, to let him know without words that you weren’t disappointed with how the night had gone. You probably would have left soon anyway, the rude man just accelerated things.

Maxwell held your hand once again, it was becoming an ordinary occurrence between you two, and started to guide you through the crowd.

“Oi!” You heard the drunk man shout behind you but you hoped Maxwell would ignore him. “Your wishes destroyed my life, you bastard!”

Maxwell kept walking and you kept following. The crowds parted for the two of you but they only offered you pitying looks. It made your blood boil. They saw what had happened and instead of being angry at the drunk idiot causing a scene they were sad that you were caught up in it. Caught up with Maxwell.

You didn’t want pity and you certainly didn’t want their judgements. You would be glad to never see any of them again.

When Maxwell pulled you outside it was dark, stars twinkling in the sky, the air cool and refreshing on your burning skin. Maxwell let go of you and strode over to the car he had rented for the night, knocking on the drivers side window to wake up the driver who startled awake.

You slowly walked over, observing as Maxwell raked a hand through his hair and refused to look at you until you were standing in front of him.

“I can’t…You need to…” Maxwell sighed heavily and frustratingly kicked a pebble into the middle of the car park.

“I need to what?”

“You need to go. Far away from me, because people like him will always be around the corner.”

“You could say that about me.”

“Yes, but it didn’t happen to you tonight, it happened to me,” Maxwell jabbed his finger into his own chest as he frantically shucked off his jacket and loosened his bowtie until both pieces of fabric were hanging down the front of his shirt.

You remained calm, understanding Maxwell’s words stemmed from his embarrassment at the situation and not because he actually wanted you to leave.

“You want me to leave?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Your only friend?”

“I have no friends.”

“You do, you have me.”

Maxwell paused to take in your calm features, reminding himself of what he saw earlier tonight. Your strength, your inability to back down when the going gets tough. He couldn’t push you away if he really tried, he didn’t want to, and you knew that.

He walked around to the back door of the car and opened it.

“Get in before you catch a cold,” Maxwell ordered half-heartedly and was relieved when you complied, scooting over the seats to leave space for him to join you.

When the driver began to drive away you shuffled into the middle seat and laid your head on Maxwell’s shoulder, relaxing once he rested his head atop yours.

Moments later you heard Maxwell sniffle and you carefully looked up to see tears filling his eyes and threatening to spill.

“Oh Maxwell,” you whispered, sitting up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing his head into the crook of your neck.

“I have ruined everything.”

“No, you’re wrong. It will get better,” you ran a hand slowly through Maxwell’s hair as you reassured him, “you were very brave tonight, to go to a gala full of people who knew who you were.”

Maxwell hugged you around the waist, holding you tightly against him, the rise and fall of your chest against his, your fingers on his scalp and the smooth motion of the travelling car calming him down.

“I’m scared for Alistair,” Maxwell croaked out against your neck.

“What do you mean?”

“My disgrace will follow him around. He’ll always be the son of Maxwell Lord.”

Your heart broke for your friend, but what could you say? You couldn’t predict the future, you just had to stick around to show him he was wrong.

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @galactic-rhi @phoenixhalliwell @thewayofthemandalorian @computeringturtle @shikin83 @lesbianlena

#His Saving Grace #Maxwell Lord #Maxwell Lord x Reader #WW1984 #Wonder Woman 1984 #Pedro Pascal #Maxwell Lord fic

61 notes · View notes

elizadoolittlethings · 6 years ago

Photo

Mark Gatiss on The Madness of George III at Nottingham Playhouse, The League of Gentlemen, Doctor Who and Dracula

'I’m writing Dracula for the BBC with Steven Moffat which will go into production next year.'

This week will see the opening of The Madness of George III at Nottingham Playhouse with Mark Gatiss taking on the lead role. We catch him during rehearsals to talk theatre, Nottingham and the Netflix society…

You’re starring in The Madness of George III at Nottingham Playhouse – what drew you to this story?

Adam Penford, the artistic director of Nottingham Playhouse directed me in The Boys in the Band two years ago and I’ve known him since he was an assistant director at the National Theatre when we did Seasons Greetings together. He asked me if I would do The Madness of George III and I said yes.I’m a huge Alan Bennett fan – he’s one of my formative influences. I love the play and I was very flattered and thrilled to do it. I also love being King!

Why should people come and watch the show?

It’s a marvellous play – obviously it’s one of Alan Bennett’s best-known and best-loved works and I think it’s an ambitious project to do for Nottingham. And it’s very relevant actually – as all the best historical drama is – you can pick out threads which are pertinent to the way that we’re living now… and the idea of a slightly dysfunctional head of state (or leader) - draw your own conclusions!

What drew you to the character of King George III? What can people expect from the show?

He’s an intriguing man - I did George III and his ministers for history ‘A’ Level so I knew, at some stage, quite a bit about Fox and Pitt and the whole set up of the Regency. The big characters of that period, I find, as Alan Bennett does, very interesting and the king himself is a very sympathetic character I think – unlike George I and George II he feels properly British as opposed to German and I think he had a kind of sensitivity – they called him ‘Farmer George’ – he was interested in actually making a success of the monarchy and making his family into an ideal unit – you could cite it as the beginning of the modern monarchy. But then obviously his illness threw everything off track and his terrible relationship with his son came into sharp focus. I think he’s a very interesting and contradictory figure.

It’s a very moving and slightly harrowing drama about mental illness but it’s also a grand, sweeping, historical epic with lots of fascinating political characters - many of whom you can find modern comparisons for.

You said in an interview that before a play you feel ‘terror’ – what makes you so nervous/ terrified/ excited about performing?

Same thing as any actor – weirdly I went to see Alan Bennett’s new play Allelujah at the Bridge Theatre the other night and I got out of the car and saw my friend Sacha Dhawan tucked around the back of the theatre, pacing up and down, nervously going over his lines and I thought I wouldn’t interrupt as I knew exactly what he was going through.

Everybody goes through the same thing – you can’t really imagine why you put yourself through something so stressful and bowel-wracking yet again, but you do – and then you get through it and then it’s ok.

The play is set to be screened as part of the National Theatre Live – what makes this so exciting for audiences and cast alike?

The NT Live scheme I think is a fabulous thing and I’ve done one from Donmar – a nerve-wracking but exciting experience. To think you’re being beamed all over the world from the theatre at that point - it’s lovely to have a record of the show but also to know that it’s reaching far beyond the narrow confines of its original base.

I remember doing Coriolanus and getting a message from a friend in Canada who said they were sitting down in a small cinema on Vancouver Island to watch it – slightly thrilling idea that it was being beamed from Covent Garden all around the world.

NT Live is an amazing opportunity for Nottingham and the East Midlands as a whole – why is it important regional theatre gets a share of the spotlight and raises its profile?

I think the reasons are obvious – this is one of the first NT Live events from outside of London which throws a spotlight on the fact that there is great theatre happening outside the metropolis. It’s fantastic to make people aware and also celebrate regional theatre and its incredible contribution to the national whole.

Do you think performing in a city like Nottingham will be different to London and if so, how?

Yes, I guess so – I’ve toured a lot and there is an interesting difference from city to city. Different places have a certain feel to them and you can get the sense of how audiences are different especially compared to London. I think what’s wonderful is that Nottingham has such a loyal audience and I know Adam’s play about the miners’ strike [Wonderland] recently had an extraordinarily different audience profile to the one you might expect and we can only try and encourage more of that and get people to the theatre who wouldn’t normally think of going.

Why did you want to work with Adam Penford?

It was blackmail, mostly. No, I’ve loved working with Adam and I think he’s immediately done a fantastic job taking over as artistic director at the Playhouse – there’s a real buzz about it which I think is so exciting.

I was very flattered to be asked to play a classic part in a great play and with Adam directing, it’s a great package.

What led you to becoming a writer, actor, producer – who or what inspired you in your life?

Well it’s all I ever wanted to do and I’ve been fortunate enough to get away with it so far. I was genuinely inspired by all kinds of actors – particularly people like Leonard Rossiter and Alistair Sim - people who combined great comic timing with proper dramatic skill – who could make you cry and make you laugh. Those were my heroes.

Alan Bennett himself was a massive influence on me – a fantastic combination of melancholy and truth and proper “Northerness” which is what he’s managed to celebrate. I remember seeing a film of his called Our Winnie with Elizabeth Spriggs taking her daughter to a crematorium on a Sunday and every single thing about it rang so true. I remember thinking: “How does he know all this?” – it was like he’d taken a peek into my own life. That’s why he remains a hero.

If you weren’t an actor and writer, what do you think you’d be doing now in terms of your career?

The only other thing I actually wanted to be was a palaeontologist, but I didn’t have the Latin (as Peter Cook used to say).

What was the first ever production you starred in - were you ever cast as a tree in a school production?!

I was never a tree – the first thing I was in was definitely Old Macdonald had a Farm in 1971. Then I was a carpet bearer to the 'Tsar of all the Russias' in ‘Baba Yaga ‘– the house with hen’s legs. My first starring role was in an adaptation of a children’s radio series called Journey Through Badlidrempt and I played Brains! I can still remember the song I had to sing in it.

In an on demand, ‘Netflix society’ what continues to make the theatre relevant for young people?

Well I think everything goes in cycles. It’s very interesting what the Netflix revolution has done for storytelling. You could argue that longform stories and the boxset mentality has returned us to a similar era when people used to read very long serials or huge Victorian novels. I think it’s all part of the same desire and hunger for stories which people have always had and will continue to have. With theatre it’s genuinely different every night and actually watching people live in front of you is an entirely different experience.

The League Of Gentlemen at Motorpoint Arena Nottingham - first night review

What’s the most valuable piece of advice you were given that you pass on to young people working in this highly competitive industry?

My motto is “Work Hard, Be Kind” – that’s the clean version of it! I would say in terms of writing there’s no such thing as a would-be writer – just get on with it. Have a go. There’s nothing to stop you except the voice in your head telling you that you can’t do it. It may not be great, it may not be any good at all but unless you actually pick up that pencil or tap that keyboard for the first time you’ll never know. Don’t let that stop you from doing it. Generally, as Woody Allen once said: “90% of success is turning up”. There are a lot of people who don’t turn up and there’s always a thought that they might have been able to crack it had they had a go. Don’t hold yourself back – you’ll regret it.

Have you been to Nottingham before? What do you like about the city? What do you like about the theatre?

I toured there with The League of Gentlemen. I’d like to do the Robin Hood experience very much. I went to visit the theatre with Adam to have a look around all the departments. It’s a fantastic theatre – I love its history and the fact that John Neville, who’s one of my favourite actors, used to be the AD there.

I think it’s a fantastic regional beacon and I’m hoping it will once again really boost the East Midlands. It’s a brilliant stage with a brilliant history and you look at the walls of past productions and at John Neville’s past seasons and you can’t quite believe they did all these amazing plays in one season. It has a great history and a great future.

Do you have any other personal or professional links to the East Midlands?

Derbyshire – only because The League of Gentlemen was filmed there in Hadfield. I don’t really know much about the area but that’s the bit I know quite well.

What role/ character do people tend to ‘shout out’ to you the most?

It will be for Sherlock or The League of Gentlemen. Mostly people just say they like my work which is a very nice thing to hear.

What’s been your proudest career moment to date?

I’ve had a lot and I’ve been very lucky. One of my happiest experiences was making An Adventure in Space and Time – my drama about the creation of Doctor Who. That was a lot of things I love coming together at once and it was an almost entirely trouble-free shoot. A very beautiful experience. I’m always very excited about the future and the idea of playing this part is very exciting so hopefully George III will be one of them.

Do you ever get star struck?

Rarely – and I’m not being blasé about that. I always think of the story that the great Anthony Hopkins once told about his father meeting Laurence Olivier and talking to him about the football and Anthony Hopkins getting slightly sweaty that he wasn’t giving Lord Olivier the deference he deserved. His dad just looked at him and said “Well, he breathes air doesn’t he?”

However, the first time I was properly star struck was when I met Michael Palin who, again, was a huge influence on me. I got a bit tongue-tied around him.

Where in your home do you store all of your awards?

They’re on a small shelf that we’ve recently discovered damp under. That must be a metaphor for something.

After The Madness of George III, what’s next for you?

I’m writing Dracula for the BBC with Steven Moffat which will go into production next year.

The Madness of George III runs from Friday, November 2 until Saturday , November 24, including a special Gala performance on Thursday, November 22, with proceeds going towards Nottingham Playhouse’s 70th Anniversary Fund.

The Madness of George III will also be broadcast to cinemas across the globe as part of National Theatre Live on Tuesday, November 20.

For tickets visit nottinghamplayhouse.co.uk or call 0115 941 9419.

To receive one WhatsApp message a day with the main headlines, as well as breaking news alerts, text NEWS to 07790 586202. Then add the number to your phone contacts book as 'Nottingham Post'. Your phone number won't be shared with other members of the group.

#MG #mark gatiss #whats on #the madness of george iii #nottingham post #the man behind the genius #all things MG #interview

9 notes · View notes