#parkingsons

Whats next drivingsons

@parkingsonwrites​

The phantom pains continued to linger, shocking waves jolting his body. Sometimes, he swore he felt a leg twitch. But it was all in his head. What had once been his greatest tool was now his mightiest foe. A battle against his bed had been a war that Cole had never been able to conquer, much like the war that was being waged against the aliens that ravaged their planet. 

He’d willingly take mind-numbing anxiety attacks every day for the rest of his life if it could return the use of his legs. Being paralyzed would have been something he could have learned to cope with in the regular world, medicine and technology would have been able to grant him a high quality of life. 

But in the world they had now, he was just a burden, someone who was taking up a cot that could be used for someone that was wounded but had a chance to heal. He sat there, day in and day out, listening to the medics scramble to save lives and being there when they failed. 

The smell of sulfur from rotting intestines invaded his nostrils, a permanent fixture to what had become his daily life. 

Evangeline visited regularly, as did some of the members from is unit. There were times where he could even see a glimmer of hope, a spark of purpose. They would come to him when they had questions about the latest tech that they were developing, and he had a table set up next to him where he could work. These tasks were his saving grace, the thread he could grasp on days where he feared that his sanity was truly lost, just the latest casualty in this war. 

But the real loss had not been his legs nor his intellect. No, what had been robbed from him was something that was more precious, more valuable than either of those things: his relationship with Sara. 

He knew she blamed herself. He understood that since it had physically been her body that had been used as a vessel by the enemy that she felt responsible. 

She had lost confidence in herself, and Cole was not strong enough to support her. She had always been the one that was self-assured, ready to dive in headfirst, guns blazing. Cole was the one who was self-doubting. 

With their roles switched, Cole was at a loss. He could prepare himself for anything that came with a known variable, could decipher the hardest of equations and could hardwire pretty much any tech. 

He could not keep them afloat. If Cole was just an anchor tied around Sara’s ankle, if he was too much of a burden, then he would not protest. 

He would not let her continue to drown. 

“You know,” Cole swallowed, voice clogged, a vice grip of desolation wrapping about his neck. “George Eliot once proposed this question…” This is what Cole knew how to do. He knew how to soothe Sara with Bob Dylan songs and could talk her ear off about his favorite books. She knew well that George Eliot was his favorite author, and she was someone that Cole continued to idolize, her words providing him hope through the darkest of times.  “What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult for each other?”

That’s what he thought they did. Their bond, their reliance on each other, was what kept them afloat. They rowed through this storm together, synchronized over time. The boat they steared had been ravaged now. Maybe he had been wrong to think that they were indestructible. Maybe their structure was faulty, and they were sinking faster than the Titanic. 

“But if I…if I just make life more difficult for you, then you need to go.” His hand twitched, fingers curling into a fist. This was one more battle that he would fight.With what little power he had left.  “I get that. Because, Sara, you are hurting me.” The muscles of his lips trembled under the weight of the confession, blinking briny tears from bloodshot eyes. 

“Not because of this.” He waved his free hand towards his covered, unmoving legs. “Because since it happened, you have continually beaten yourself up. I’ve had to watch you, the few times you’ve stopped by, look at me with diverted eyes that are glazed over with shame and anguish. I’ve had to watch you harden with self-hatred over something that you had no control over. Do you know what that’s done to me, Sara, truthfully? It’s devastated me. I’m paralyzed. With grief. I lost you. You don’t…you don’t see more anymore.” His stomach churned, an ache that was boiling bubbling under his skin. 

She was the only one who ever had truly seen him. Not even his mother had seen him laid so bare, he’d always been so determined to hide his worst insecurities from her. 

His hand tightened around the sheets, pushing forward. “If I’m ever going to move on from this, if you’re ever going to move on from this, then you need to not see me as something that you broke. And if that’s the only way that you can see me now….then, yeah, you need to leave.”

Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling/vice versa finn plz

Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them okay i’m pretty sure both but liv would not do it on the desk she’d do it places it will clean off or not be vandalism. finn vandalises.

Who starts the tickle fights finn has some weird thing against tickling so i guess neither after liv has found out about his weird thing against tickling.

Who starts the pillow fights but this one is definitely finn.

Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile god both it just depends on hours working and things like that because it definitely happened a few times in play with finn doing it but he is rubbish at late nights so it definitely works the other way around too and especially I feel when babies are involved when liv’s nursing and then she comes back to bed and is like (◕‿◕✿) 

Who mistakes salt for sugar finn. back when i was writing a million and one random half-finished olivigan drabbles this was actually one of them hahahhahah

Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1am in the morning like i say finn is rubbish at late nights and also (usually) knows better than to try and use the microwave unsupervised so i’m gonna go with liv but it’s probably again when babies and sleep deprivation are involved 

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines both of them plz. although i was going to add on that neither of them are really cheesy and then i remembered that finn proposed on new year’s eve so. yeah.

Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical order liv if either of them.

Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies liv

Who buys candles for dinners even though there’s no special occasion both of them haha

Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen finn

Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacation liv thinks to get them but definitely lets finn choose which one (as long as she gets veto power)

“Mm…your kid before five in the morning.”

James poked open an eye, eyes blearily looking to the alarm clock on the opposite side of Gisèle that read 3:17AM. Letting out a sigh, he sat his head on a drawn up hand, looking down at the woman beside him. “Funny you say that. My kid. Uh huh.” He clucked his tongue to the top of his mouth. “Because it was my idea to have another one.” His tone was laced with sleep but also with a light-hearted teasing as he was already lifting up the sheets to get up, leaning down to plop a kiss on the top of blonde hair. Stretching his limbs out with a few popping cracks, James stood and shucked on a pair of sweats and a wife beater before heading to the room that doubled as a play room and a makeshift studio. There were dolls placed neatly in the corner and craft supplies were kept with the paints and brushes. 

He leaned against the doorway, watching for a moment as short limbs grew frustrated at their inability to reach the top of the canvas. Stripes of black were being painted over what had once been a pastel sunset. Stéphanie would be upset to find that her painting had been mangled, but she was a lot easier to sooth than the one in front of him. “Your sister worked really hard on that, you know,” James drawled out as he walked into the room with careful steps. It had been the pitter patter of young feet with the combination of falling materials that had woken up the little girl’s parents. Clearly startled, long dark hair whipped around, brush still in hand with a glop of paint slopping onto the hardwood floor. Aimée’s face pinched, upset with being caught, and her shoulders sunk. 

With a stride across the room, James was removing the brush from her hand, setting it into the tin before scooping up his daughter. A glance to the painting told him that there was no saving it. 

Keeping ahold on Aimée wasn’t easy as she wiggled and squirmed to try and get free, letting out disgruntled noises and pushing against James’ chest. Frown sketching onto his face, he tried to get a good read on what was going on with a furrow of his brow. Aimée didn’t usually act out like this. She preferred to be well-behaved and proper, her dresses primped and typically adorning curls that fell to her shoulders. Six years old and she was already taking cues from her mother. 

Oh. 

Maybe Gisèle would be more suited for this, but James got an idea in his head. Carrying his daughter into the living room despite her protests, he opened up the box on the bookshelf where he kept his wand. He went back into the studio, silently waving his wand to cast sound proofing charms as to not disturb Gisèle. He placed his still wiggling child onto the bench in front of the piano before taking a seat on it himself. 

Stéphanie had gone off to Hogwarts a few days ago. She was placed into Ravenclaw, like Gisèle. She could have been in any House and her parents would have been thrilled all the same, but James got the indication that it irked his younger daughter. Stéphanie was in Ravenclaw, Stéphanie was good at painting and that said a lot to a little girl who wanted to be the same way, not because she idolized her older sister, but because she too wanted to have those connections with their mother.

And as he looked to the little girl who was messing with the hem of her nightgown, chewing on her bottom lip, he wondered how she couldn’t see that in herself. So she had Gisèle’s lack of self-awareness too then. Along with her critical attitude that during her more formulative years seemed to be more jabbing toward herself than others. But he and Gisèle had promised themselves and each other that their children wouldn’t have to be like that.

Poising his hands over the piano, James pressed down on the G key, then the C. Then D. E three times. As he played, he turned to watch Aimée as she began to watch him curiously. Lowly, James began to sing along with the tune. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.” James didn’t stretch out his piano skills often, but this piece was enough to remember. Easy enough to learn. As he continued, he grabbed onto a little hand and curled it around his own, placing her fingers onto the C and pressing the key down three times. “You make me happy when skies are grey.”

“Dad.” Ah, so she does talk after all. “You really can’t sing.” The tone was chilling, and oh so familiar as he barked out a laugh that vibrated in his chest. 

His eyes crinkled. “No, I really can’t,” he agreed as he lifted Aimée up to sit her on his lap. “But I can play the piano.”

“Can Mummy play the piano?” Aimee turned striking blue eyes up to him and James let out another chuckling, ruffling her messy black hair that matched his own. 

“No.” The frown was quick to find Aimée’s face. “But she did find it mighty impressive that I could. Helped me win over her heart.” So the last part was a bit of a stretch, but Gisèle had found it nice enough to get him a piano. 

His daughter instantly perked up, and James knew that he’d had the right idea. And then came the question that he had wanted to hear: “Can you teach me, Daddy?”

James nodded, holding out his pinky. “But only if you swear to not ruin any more of your sister’s things, okay. That’s not very polite.” 

Aimée gave an eager nod and wrapped her finger around his and they shook on it. James let out a relieved breath, smile curving onto his lips. She was going to be alright. 

Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text. ( GALE TO CRESSIDA )

[ text: sent 3:41 pm ] hey, thought that i should let you know about this since you’re always worrying about me[ text: sent 3:41 pm ] got a new job today. pay’s better than the last one[ text: sent 3:42 pm ] come over tonight? we can celebrate about it[ text: sent 3:42 pm ] since i know you’re in town and all

Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text. ( GALE TO CRESSIDA )

[ text: sent 10:54 pm ] you know, catnip, sometimes i miss you. i wonder what’s going on in your life. how’s twelve? how are you and peeta? how are my family? sometimes it’s lonely down here.[ text: sent 11:01 pm ] did i just[ text: sent 11:01 pm ] send that to you[ text: sent 11:01 pm ] fuck this is what happens when your contact is right under hers[ text: sent 11:02 pm ] and for the record, i wasn’t actually planning to SEND that. i was going to draft it[ text: sent 11:02 pm ] guess that i’m not awake enough for this[ text: sent 11:02 pm ] at least i sent it to you by accident instead of her

Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text. ( GALE TO CRESSIDA )

[text] Oh, right. I probably wasn’t good enough any way. ( PANSY & DRACO )

[ text: sent 10:10 pm ] ????[ text: sent 10:10 pm ] i never said that???[ text: sent 10:10 pm ] you were the one who wouldn’t fucking let me in???

[text] Come over. You left your underwear here ( PANSY & DRACO )

[ text: sent 5:23 pm ] draco lucius malfoy, that is NOT how you get a girl to come over[ text: sent 5:26 pm ] did i actually leave my underwear, though?

[text] I keep dreaming of you and I hate you but god I don’t want to leave you ( CASSIUS & GISELE )