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f1samcro · 24 days ago

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Baby Momma

Based off this ask from @bear-ink

Hi, I love your writing. Please could I request Jax Teller ? Jax and reader are co parenting, and Tara isn’t making it easy for them with her jealousy, but she is the mother of jax’s child and he stands by her over everyone else, as he never stopped loving her.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Masterlist

You and Jax had loved each other, really. You'd been there after Tara had first left, held him and let him cry. And once he stopped being upset, you let him hold you close and take you out on dates. By the time you were 23, after being together for three years, you got married. Life was good. You two were good. Until you weren't. You couldn't really remember when, it wasn't a sudden change. It started with Jax coming home a little later, not much, but enough for you to be almost in bed. Then you both stopped talking so much, stopped leaning in for random kisses when you walked past each other. You two tried. Tried counselling. But it was staring you right in the face, you and Jax just didn't love each other like that anymore. So, you split after seven years of marriage.

You were supposed to move out after you found some footing. That was the plan, but you had to skip out on an apartment showing due to illness, and Jax had decided to stay and look after you. (You really weren't well.) After a few days, he insisted that you go to the doctors. That's when you found out. Pregnant. Three months. The only thing you could think of was you and Jax's 'one last time'. He insisted you stay in the house, so you did.

On the 25th of August 2008, Abel John Teller was born. You and Jax found your rhythm. Gemma had practically applauded you two for your ability to co-parent. Until Tara showed back up. It was bound to cause problems when you swung the door open to see her during Abel's first birthday party. To his credit, Jax did loom over your shoulder when you didn't come back quickly, and he had told her to go away. Then he slammed the door closed, planted his hands on your shoulders, and pushed you back into the kitchen just in time for cake.

But after that, Tara was around a lot more. You and Jax had found it easier to co-parent a baby in the same home. You agreed you would move out when he started school. But for now, if Jax wanted some alone time or time with a woman, he would stay at the club for the night and be back home by lunch. A kiss to Abel's head, hand running over it softly, and a kiss to your cheek. But then that stopped. Because when he'd open the door, Tara would follow him in. He kept the small ritual for a while, until you heard a nasty-sounding argument between the two. Then he stopped. And Tara kept trying to mother Abel. Would push you out as much as she could. You let her more than you should've, trying to keep the peace between Abel's father and his girlfriend. But this was your last straw. You were taking Abel to the park, and Tara tagged along. And then she took Abel from your arms, the second she saw people she knew. Introduced him as her son, and you as the nanny.

The second you got home, you rounded on Jax. Snatching your baby out of Tara's arms, "If you don't sort her the fuck out, I'm leaving. And I'm taking Abel with me."

"Woah. Hey. C'mon, let's not overrea-"

"Don't finish that sentence, Jackson. If anything, I'm underacting. I've let your stupid bitch walk all over me. I'm done. Sort her out, or I'm gone."

Jax furrows his eyebrows, looking over your shoulder at Tara, who was fuming. "The hell did you do, Tara?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. She's not threatening to take my son away, jus' 'cos you did 'nothing'."

She narrows her eyes at him, watching as he tilts your face up and leans forward to kiss your forehead, whispering something. You nod and turn, walking to Abel's room to put him to bed.

Jax stares his girlfriend down until you return, you sigh softly and look at him. "I took Abel to the park, and she tagged along. Saw her friends, how she got the-"

"Stick to the story, darlin'."

You huff, crossing your arms, "Snatched him outta my arms, introduced him as her son. And me as the fuckin' nanny."

Jax runs a hand over his head, "What the hell, Tara!"

She straightens her back, "What?"

He narrows his eyes, "You think I haven't noticed? Not the first time you've pulled this shit. And we've discussed it. Multiple times. You're not Abel's mother. She is. And you'll show her some goddamn respect."

Tara scoffs, "You're taking her side?!"

"Why wouldn't I? She's the mother of my child. I'm always gonna take her side. 'Specially when she's not the one in the wrong."

Tara glares, "Always. Right. And if she was wrong?"

"Then I'd be havin' this discussion with her." He looks over at you, and then back at Tara, "I think you should go."

She blinks, "What?"

"Get. Out."

She shakes her head, "C'mon, Jax. I love-"

He cuts her off, "I don't. I won't love someone who's tryin' to tear my family apart. So get out. Don't come back."

She sneers, turning to you, "You stole him from me!"

Jax scoffs, "Wasn't ever really yours. Not when you couldn't respect my family."

"I was supposed to be your family!"

Jax tilts his head, scrutinising her, "You could've been. But you can't understand that she's my family. I need-"

"Her. You need her! You still love her!"

Jax nods, "Maybe I do. Can't exactly blame me, can you? You expect me to sit here and watch her be the best mother my son could ask for, and not fall back in love with her?"

Both you and Tara pause, watching each other. She turns abruptly and storms out of the house, door slamming behind her. You look over at Jax, who shakes his head, "Movie?"

You nod slowly, "Movie it is."

#jax teller #jax teller x reader #soa #sons of anarchy #soa imagine #samcro

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threeacttragedy · 5 months ago

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Entry 14 – The One Where They Call It Chaotic but We Call it Predictable

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Yes, I am fully aware my entries have been sparse of late, and, no, I am not planning to stop my general Lukola ramblings any time soon. In fact, once I run out of material, I’ll probably dabble with fan fiction because, meh, why the hell not? Any ways, the reason for my slight absence is that I’ve had a special guest staying at my house – one by the name of “Dad.” Yes, that dapper gentleman has been roosting on my porch for the past few weeks (because that’s the only place I allow him to smoke), drinking an ungodly amount of Coca-Cola and holding my shih tzu like she’s a human baby. He did pry himself away long enough to be my date to see “Wicked” (he loved it, by the way). Oh, and he was obliged to my incessant babblings about Lukola. In fact, he even opened my mind to a few theories of his own and made me laugh hysterically at his reaction to the Jakolas.

It has always been my intention to delve into a certain section of our timeline – the part where Luke seemingly ran off into the Summertime Sunset with his friend group, which included Antonia. That period in time is the cavity of my Lukola table puzzle. The left side isn’t connecting to the right side because there’s this gaping hole in the center called Hot Boy Fucking Summer! Before June 12, things made sense to me. Even with the muck we find ourselves in now, just about everything after July 30 has made sense to me. So, of course, Hot Boy Summer was a topic of discussion with my dad. Actually, it was an “all afternoon” one.

I originally presented the Before, During, and After of Hot Boy Summer in chronological order to my dad only to get blasted with, “Stop doing that shit!” after I mentioned “Bless the Telephone.” His gripe was that – like the Claddagh ring – I had failed to disclose to him information that may alter his opinion about the event for which we were theorizing. Specifically, if I knew that the Claddagh ring preceded June 12 and I knew Nicola’s aptly named “Chaos Week” followed July 30, then disclosing those details to him before asking him to theorize about what happened in between those two dates (i.e., Hot Boy Summer) was necessary and even critical to his final opinion.

I don’t believe there is much explaining to do on the front-end of Hot Boy Summer – at least not to my well-versed Lukolas. We presumably all watched the same World Tour (including that trip over to Galway so Luke could meet Nicola’s mother) and I’ve already discussed the Claddagh ring in Entry 6 of my blog. That leaves us with the tail-end of Luke’s summertime jaunt, which steers us into Chaos Week. For those of you who thought I was going to discuss Hot Boy Summer in this entry, I’m sorry – this one is dedicated to that erratic period of Nicola blowing her war horn, beckoning all Lukolas within a worldwide radius of London to commence at her feet. And, commence we did!

Have you ever heard of “chaos theory?” Broadly speaking, it’s the idea that small changes can result in major changes over time – like cause and effect. That’s kind of how I’ve looked back at Chaos Week. We’d spent most of the summer on one bummer of a vacation, with Luke and Nicola (presumably) spending time apart from one another. Sure, we’d had few fireworks explode here and there with pap pictures, and we saw JVN enter the ring as the fan favorite best friend but, on the surface, Hot Boy Summer was, well, rather static. It had carried on with a monotonous “blip…blip…blip…” until suddenly our radar detected a quiet but distinct “blip-blip,” which didn’t register in any of our minds until we had a torpedo coming straight for us!

I don’t believe we can attribute Chaos Week solely to Nicola. Yes, yes, I know, Nicola’s online presence in early to mid-August was chaotic, hence the name “Chaos Week.” But, I do not believe Nicola started Chaos Week. She sure as shit drove it home but, in my opinion, it wasn’t her actions that set everything in motion. Nicola wasn’t the “blip-blip;” she was the torpedo.

So, what was the “blip-blip?”

Luke returning to London – alone – on August 2, of course.

The friend group, which had included Antonia, was nowhere in sight.

Hot Boy Summer had come to an end (I imagine this to be the reason Nicola started blowing her war horn).

In my opinion, Luke’s return set everything else into motion. He was that second pendulum that caused the first one to spiral out of control.

But, we ate that shit up, didn’t we? Yeah, we sure did, and we loved every day of Chaos Week. What’s funny to me is that everyone remembers bits and pieces of Chaos Week, but they never seem to get it in the right order (how chaotic, right?). This happened, then that happened. No, no, that happened first. No, this happened first. The only way to really look at Chaos Week is to give order to the disorder. And, we’re going to do that via a very generic captain’s log, so…

Welcome aboard!

Mission: Chaos Week

Origin: Somewhere in Mayfair.

Destination: Happily Ever After.

Time of Departure: Fuck, I don’t know. When did you board this ship?

Expected Time of Arrival: Hopefully before we all wither up and die.

Log Entries:

August 2. Luke returned to London alone. Yeah, yeah, I know, I already told you that, but I had to add this:

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August 4. Nicola decided to wake us all up from our somber summer with a plate of French toast. Umm, okay, that’s fucking random. I’m going back to bed – but wait, didn’t Luke say brunch was his “fav meal of the day?” Yeah, I swear I have that polaroid around here somewhere.

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August 7. Luke – after being absent on social media for what seemed like a lifetime – suddenly popped into his Instagram stories to post some delightfully cute Bridgerton Bloopers. The entire fandom rejoiced at Luke’s return to social media! And, let’s be honest, we only cared about the bloopers with Luke and Nicola. Hmm, Luke always has this intriguing, yet subtle way of surprising us. Did you hear that?

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August 7. Shortly after Luke posted his Bridgerton Bloopers, Nicola swooped in and dropped a very loud Wordle anvil on her Instagram stories. <clang!> Was she clocking people for making fake social media accounts using her name? Did she really solve the Wordle in two? Actually, most of us ignored that part of the post entirely and went straight to Mr. Google to ask, “What does ‘anvil’ mean? Okay, how about in the Urban Dictionary?” You know you did, too! In all seriousness, though, when this first dropped, I considered whether she was directing the “anvil” at Luke. After all, let’s face it, Nicola was the one who promoted Bridgerton post-Papsmear while Luke disappeared from the limelight. It’s only natural that she might be a bit peeved at him suddenly promoting Bridgerton. However, in hindsight, I believe this to be nothing more than Nicola calling out the person making fake social media accounts under her name. During this time, there seemed to be an influx of fake social media accounts using Nicola and Luke’s names (Luke would address this same topic on his Instagram stories on August 24). And, as fun as it would be to theorize that the “anvil” was directed at someone (other than Luke, of course), it was, in fact, the Wordle for August 6. That said, I do believe that “Wordle” has become synonymous with “Luke” at this point. So, I’ll give you that.

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August 8. JVN reposted their “[w]hen you catch someone trying to sneak a pic but you were born for these moments” to his Instagram grid. Did you think JVN wasn’t going to be included in Chaos Week?! They produced some of their best shit during this time! Any ways, Nicola liked this grid post, which confirmed my belief that Antonia played some part in the Italy pap pictures (for a full explanation on this, read “Entry 11 – The One About the Heart of the Ocean”). Thanks for the recap, JVN, although most Lukolas probably didn’t need to a reminder as to why they disliked Antonia.

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August 9. Nicola posted the Scrabble board to her Instagram stories. Whoa, hold up, Jakolas! Yeah, we know Jake played Scrabble with Nicola and – guess what – we Lukolas don’t care. I mean, I’ll even throw the Jakolas a small scrap of meat and say that Jake could (emphasis on could) have helpedNicola with the Scrabble board. Why am I being so charitable? Because that just makes me more confident Jake has always supported Lukola. You will not convince me (or probably any Lukola) that this Scrabble board was directed at anyone else but Antonia. In my opinion, there are only two things in this picture that matter – the central word “HEYA,” or “HEY A,” and the Guinness coaster. In fact, if I had been playing on the opposite side of this Scrabble board, I would have challenged this word. That alone says exactly what it needs to say. This is not to dissuade you from theorizing on every other word on that board, though. I’m simply saying I do not need any other evidence to persuade myself into believing the board was directed at Antonia. Now, if you want to take the two corner words and speculate that Nicola was having “SEX” with “DAD,” go right ahead – I won’t argue with you.

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August 10. Nicola posted to her Instagram grid the now-deleted birthday greeting to her friend, Camilla. The caption read, “…Remember the time paparazzi took a picture of us and to protect me you grabbed my face?” If that’s not an indirect jab at Luke’s friend group, I’m not sure what it is because it sure as hell doesn’t scream, “Happy Birthday,” to me.

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August 11. Nicola decided to get out her blow torch and light every beacon fire she could find starting in Bowral and ending in London by posting the “Drink Your Milk” shirt to her Instagram stories. You could practically hear her rallying every last Lukola still standing: “Rise, Lukolas, rise!” In fact, I think some even rose from the dead that day! What was the crisis? Well, only that the “Drink Your Milk” shirt was exactly like the one Luke was seen wearing on or about June 22. Now, now, this was a charity promoted by Jonathan Bailey so it’s entirely possible Nicola was gifted her own shirt. But, guess what? The Lukolas didn’t give a shit! They deep dived into reflections on sunglasses and creases in t-shirt sleeves! And, no, I’m not speculating on that hot mess (if you’re interested in learning more, I promise you there’s plenty of TikToks for that). In truth, it never mattered to me whether the shirt belonged to Luke or not. What mattered was the perception that it was Luke’s shirt. It blew up the Internet and I would stand by my belief that, if the fandom’s perception of something was detrimentally incorrect, Nicola (or Luke) would have corrected it. Nicola did not correct this. And, no, Jakolas, don’t even talk to me about that scrap of green blanket in that picture. I don’t care if Jake played Scrabble with (presumably) Nicola at some point over the summer while sitting outside on a goddamn green blanket. The “Drink Your Milk” post was not a secret coded message to Jake. I would stand on a hill and argue that all afternoon. Why? Because – again – Nicola did not correct the “Luke’s shirt” narrative. She let the fandom run with it. In fact, we all got our own blow torches that day. Mine’s turquoise and engraved with my initials.

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August 12. JVN posted a “Special announcement” to their Instagram grid. Right about now, you might be, like, “What the fuck does this have to do with Chaos Week?” I told you, JVN has this way of slipping shit into to their posts that make you do a double take – usually a day later while you’re daydreaming during your drive to the office. This was one of those posts. The announcement was: “I’ve been waiting for this announcement until after the Paris Olympics had finished, as to not take away from the incredible success of USA Gymnastics…@teamusa has been following my journey and growth as a gymnast and showed up at my house to personally invite me to train to be a potential member of their 2028 team. While I hate taking a slot away from 2028 potentials like @simonebiles & @stephen_nedoroscik (as it appears quite obvious I’ll make whichever team I attempt to)…” What made this post stick out is that it is, in fact, bullshit. As in, it is a completely made-up story. Team USA did not visit JVN at their house; they’re not joining the USA gymnastics team. It’s not even that funny, to be honest. So, what was the point of it? It’s confusing as fuck when you read it at face value; however, when you drop it into the Lukola timeline, I’m convinced it alludes to something bigger. On August 11, we had Nicola posting the “Drink Your Milk” shirt – which sent the fandom into believing Nicola was wearing Luke’s shirt and that Luke’s reflection was in her sunglasses. On August 13, the day after this post, a torpedo was launched at us (warning, warning, anyone got a phone I can use?). When you look at this post as the middle piece connecting Nicola’s August 11 and August 13 posts, I believe it tells a story. Let me rewrite it for you but imagine it now coming from Nicola’s perspective: “I’ve been waiting for this announcement until after the Paris Olympics Hot Boy Summer had finished, as to not take away from the incredible success of USA Gymnastics Luke’s friend group, which included Antonia…Luke @teamusa has been following my journey and growth as a gymnast and showed up at my house to personally invite me to train to be a potential member of their 2028 team [choose your own adventure on this one]. While I hate taking a slot away from 2028 potentials like @simonebiles Antonia & @stephen_nedoroscik Rory (as it appears quite obvious I’ll make whichever team [“girlfriend” or best friend] I attempt to)…” Huh, at the very least, this post is starting to get the side-eye from you, isn’t it?

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August 13. Oh, my God! My hair is on fucking fire!!! Nicola dumped “Bless the [Goddamn] Telephone” on her Instagram stories. Whose voice is nice to hear again? What is she trying to say?! Maybe nothing. No, it’s something. “It’s nice, the way you say my name; not very fast or slow, just soft and low; the same as when you tell me how you feel; I feel the same way, too; I’m very much in love with you. I’m very much in love with you.” I don’t need to elaborate any further on this post. It speaks for itself. Chaos Week had officially launched its massive torpedo (full of firecrackers and pinata candy) and the entire Lukola fandom was hysterical – in the best way possible. However, I will interrupt this happy moment with – Jakolas, please don’t start trying to link this song to Jake because Jack Rooke used it in an episode of “Big Boys.” Yes, we are aware Jake played a minor role in that show as a love interest to the main character, Jack. Again, Nicola did not shut down the fandom’s perception that the song was for Luke. Sorry, not sorry, Jakolas. If any part of Chaos Week was for Jake, I believe Nicola would have shut the entire thing down after realizing the fandom was associating everything with Luke.

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August 15. After giving the fandom 48 hours to process “Bless the Telephone,” Nicola posted to her Instagram grid, “Very demure, very mindful.” In my opinion, Nicola was acknowledging that her recent posts (ahem, “Bless the Telephone”) were intentional, and she was aware of how they were being taken by the fandom (ahem, that they were for Luke).

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August 15. JVN posted to their TikTok account “Slick Back Bun.” Hands down a fan favorite moment with JVN. “Sometimes I just need a very demure slick back bun…I don’t do my slick back bun like all the other girls. Here I’ll show you how to do it…I’m just going to take the hair and twist it around itself, so I just have a little cinnamon roll bun…” Do I need to elaborate on this one? Seriously, do I? Slick back bun – Antonia – yeah, okay, got it, we’re still going knives out on Antonia. If you haven’t watched this, it is still on JVN’s TikTok and Instagram grid. It was clever how “demure” JVN and Nicola were being that day.

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August 16. Nicola posted another song to her Instagram stories. This time it was Clairo’s “Juna.” It was not just a sweet, romantic song; it was full on sexy. “You make me wanna try on feminine; you make me wanna go buy a new dress; you make me wanna slip off a new dress…With you, there’s no pretending.” Alright, alright, enough! Wait – no, no – come back! I didn’t mean it! Please, please bring back your music to Instagram, Nicola!

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At this point, in my opinion, Chaos Week ended; however, I’m going to reference one more log entry mainly because, if I don’t, it will get overlooked in the small gap between Chaos Week and when the Jakolas enter the picture on August 25 (see “Entry 8 – The One About the Adjacent of Convenience” for that side show).

August 22. Nicola posted the picture of Luke and herself from Bridgerton Season 3 to her Instagram grid. And, no, I do not consider this to be a “Polin” picture. The picture appeared to be an alternative version of the polaroid Nicola carried with her throughout the World Tour. She captioned the post, “I thought I’d already shared this but I hadn’t so here you go now it’s all yours.” She also shared this in her stories and captioned that “with the lovliest pal a gal could have” and tagged Luke’s crotch. The story would disappear after 24 hours, but the post itself is still on Nicola’s Instagram grid. This post can be taken in several ways, depending on your mood. Was she friendzoning Luke because she used the word “pal” in her Instagram story? No, I don’t think she was. The “lov[e]liest pal?” That’s about as confusing as their “unique relationship.” Was she telling the fandom to support Luke because she supported Luke (i.e., stop hating on him)? Yeah, probably. Was she telling the fandom that she thought she’d already made it very clear that everything she had been posting was about Luke? Yes, I believe this to be the most reasonable answer, especially when you consider her previous posts. The reality is, that man fills a hefty chunk of her Instagram grid – and not dressed like Colin Bridgerton. But, I also believe that this post may have been a preemptive strike against the narrative that would surface three days later on August 25. It’s entirely possible Nicola knew that the pap pictures of Jake at the festival would be released by DeuxMoi (after all, it took DeuxMois over a week to release them), and Nicola was reminding fans that her narrative involved Luke. Note, that Nicola would repeat this in October when she and Luke simultaneously posted their “Polin” picture to their Instagram stories, which was followed a few days later by DeuxMoi dropping pap pictures of Nicola and Jake.

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Oh, a few honorable mentions post-August 22: (a) Nicola posted a picture from her Stylist Magazine photoshoot – the one from the back seat of a car (i.e., the “modern day carriage”) on August 23; (b) Luke posted about how he only had an Instagram account on August 24; and (c) JVN posted his “two finger” hair straightening demo on TikTok on August 25 (yes, I only listed these honorable mentions to get to JVN’s “two finger” demo because that was some laugh-out-loud funny shit – and it’s literally on the heels of Nicola’s “modern day carriage”).

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August 25. What in the hot fucking kittens is that? Well, thank God, it’s not an iceberg this time. Whoa, they didn’t just pull that Non-Player Character from that group of guys and name a ship after him, did they? Hahaha, dumbasses. Oh, shit! It’s coming straight for us!

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End Log.

Well, how was Chaos Week? Did you have a good time? I’m honestly friggin’ exhausted. Seriously, even just writing all that down was exhausting. Like, my brain is fried. Oh, yeah, feel free to ignore that part at the end of our log. That shit happens every time the Lukolas are given a bit of fun. You’ll get used to it.

I took you on this excursion through Chaos Week today because I believe it is important to develop an opinion about what happened before and after Hot Boy Summer, especially if we’re going to theorize on it at a later point. And, as I mentioned earlier, the before played out in front of our eyes and the after, well, if we have the information available, why not peek in its direction? It’s almost like reading a book from back to front.

There are three things that happened during Chaos Week that have kept my feet firmly planted on the USS Lukola. One, Nicola wearing the “Drink Your Milk” shirt, alluding to the still uncorrected perception that it was Luke’s shirt. Two, “Bless the Telephone.” We started Hot Boy Summer with The Frames singing, “I’m gonna wait for you…” and ended it with Labi Siffre answering, “It’s nice to hear your voice again…” And, three, Nicola posting “Very demure, very mindful,” confirming – in my opinion – that she was very conscious of what her posts were telling the fandom – i.e., that they were for Luke.

But, as I was sitting here typing out my thoughts about Chaos Week, I found myself – oh, no, word vomit! – annoyed.

Yes, annoyed.

It’s not Chaos Week itself that has left me feeling annoyed. That was one hell of a “Bridgerton Ride.” It’s that Chaos Week set in motion this predictable pattern which solidified my opinion that “Lukolas can’t have nice things.” Seriously, we can’t have nice things because something always comes in and fucks it up.

You know how I mentioned at the beginning of this post that Luke’s return to London was the “blip-blip” that led to Chaos Week? Luke was the “cause” and Chaos Week was the “effect.” Well, Chaos Week was the “blip-blip” that led to the current state of the fandom. We now have three ships – the Lukola, the Jakola, and the Lutonia – sailing the Fandom Sea, and every time the Lukola finds itself flying high, it gets hijacked by one or both of those motherfucking side ships.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Somewhere in this hot mess, the chaos that originated from Nicola’s August social media spree found order! In fact, we’ve fallen into such a predictable pattern of events that the ebb and flow of the sideshow antics barely “blip” our radar these days. When bullshit starts bullshitting, I just breathe a deep sigh of unadulterated annoyance and think, “I’m so over this shit.” Honestly, I’m getting the vibe that many of us are over this shit. We’re not playing Scrabble anymore. We’re playing that never-ending game of Risk.

Sometimes I wonder if the fandom would have been better off if Chaos Week had never happened. That Pandora’s Box had never been opened and that the fandom had simply allowed the USS Lukola to sail off into the sunset. But, then I think about the people I have met along the way. The Ones that have made me laugh until my stomach hurts. The Ones with whom I’ve gone so far down a rabbit hole we’ve come out on the other side as different people. The Ones that I’ve rescued from the riptide. And, the Ones that have stopped me from rowing my dinghy to shore (because, yes, I’ve had rough days, too). You all know who you are.

So, I find myself putting up with the day-to-day humdrum of the Life of a Lukola, chatting with the people I now consider my friends, and waiting.

Waiting for something different to happen. A disruption to the current cycle. A new kind of chaos – preferably, the kind that mortally wounds the Jakola and Lutonia love triangles and finally allows the Lukolas to have (and keep) nice things.

But, in the meantime, I am still sitting here – listening for that quiet but distinct sound – but also contemplating knocking the Risk board off the table.

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#lukola #luke newton #nicola coughlan #my thoughts #my opinion #speculation only #my mood

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ladykailitha · 4 months ago

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The Au Pair Boy Part 12

Hey guys, can you believe that there are only three chapters after this one of this lovely fic? Thank you to everyone who has liked, commented, and reblogged this story.

In this we see Max and Lucas flirting with the idea of flirting with each other, Eddie takes care of Steve, and we meet the raccoon. ;)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

“Max!” Susan hissed, with a hint of giggle in her voice.

Steve, who was in the kitchen preparing lunch, stopped what he was doing and looked out the window.

There, leaning on the low brick and iron wrought fence, was Max, staring at something in the distance.

“Max!” Susan cried, her voice high with suppressed giggles. “Stop staring!”

The girl finally must have heard her mother because she jumped two feet straight in the air. Max mumbled something that sounded vaguely like an apology and then they came back in through the back door.

“We’re all done for the day,” Susan said brightly and sneaked a glance over at her daughter. “Someone was a little lackadaisical today, but we got it done.”

Steve laughed. “It’s fine. You guys do a good job. If some days are a little slower than others I’m sure Eddie doesn’t mind the extra. He loves you ladies.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Max muttered sarcastically. But he didn’t take offense. It was her default state of being most of the time.

“There we go!” he replied. “I just Venmo’ed you the money. Can you confirm you got it?”

Susan pulled out her phone and after a moment or two she nodded. “It’s all good! Thanks so much!”

“No, thank you ladies,” Steve said, putting his phone way. “It’s so hard keeping up with twins as just a nanny, I couldn’t imagine not having other people helping me.”

The Mayfields left and Steve went back to fixing lunch. He was making a potato soup with bacon and cheese and dab of sour cream and it was almost ready. But just as he was taking it off the hob, Lucas and Charles walked in for a drink of water. And suddenly it made sense. What, or rather who Max was looking at.

Because Lucas had taken his shirt off in the oppressive heat of late August and wrapped it around his head to keep the sweat out of his eyes.

As they were drinking their water, Steve got out a pitcher of lemonade and poured each of the Sinclair boys a glass. Which they took gratefully.

“Who were those two girls we saw out back today?” Charles asked, handing Steve back his now empty glass.

“Susan Mayfield and her daughter Max,” he replied, putting the glass in the sink. “Max is about Lucas’s age. She’ll be starting up at the local high school next week.”

Charles nudged his son with his elbow. “I told you so.” He turned back to Steve. “So they do the cleaning?”

“Yup!” Steve said with a nod. “The inside anyway. For the grounds, we have Jim Hopper and for the pool, we have you two.”

“Damn,” Lucas said with a low whistle. “It must be nice be rich enough to have separate cleaners for everything. Definitely don’t get that at home.”

Steve nodded. “My parents were lawyer rich growing up so we had someone who came in once a week to clean the big stuff, but for the most part we handled everything else. The cooking, the yard, the day to day stuff for the pool. That was all on us.”

“I didn’t know you grew up rich,” Charles said with frown. “You must really love being a nanny.”

Steve snorted and took their empty glasses from them to wash out in the sink. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my job and especially this one, but when I came out as bisexual, my parents tossed me out. Used my grandparents’ trust fund that left for me to go to school in early childhood development and the rest is history.”

“Well,” Lucas said with a grin, “I’m glad you’re here, because otherwise we wouldn’t have that awesome D&D room to play in and Dustin and them are so cool.”

“I’m glad you guys are having fun,” Steve said with a closed mouth smile.

“It’s been a blast!” Lucas said excitedly. “Plus we found out that Dustin is being transferred to our school. He was being bullied at his last school, so his mom was looking for a new school to send him to and Joyce, Will’s mom suggested our school and he got in!”

All this was stuff Steve knew, of course, but he let Lucas give his news.

Charles ruffled Lucas’s hair. “I’m glad he’s making friends.”

“What’s going to happen once Lucas goes back to school?” Steve asked. “I know plans were for the pool to be drained and covered for the winter in October, but there’s still all of September to think about.”

“We’ll be coming on the weekends,” Charles replied with a smile. “Eddie already talked to us about it, so he must have forgotten to tell you.”

Steve smacked his forehead. “No he did. I’m the one that forgot. Joan has been having nightmares and Janice has been even crankier than her sister over the whole thing.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t imagine taking care of twins. It was bad enough having Lucas and Erica as close together as they were. A toddler and a newborn were not fun, let me tell you.” He cocked his head to the side. “Probably why we stopped at two, if I’m honest.”

“I feel that,” Steve said rubbing his temple. “I’ve already paid you, I did it when I did Susan’s.”

Charles checked his account. “Yup, we’re all good to go.” He clapped Steve on the arm and then they said goodbye.

Steve turned around and gripped the edge of the counter as he fought to breathe normally. Fuck. He was going to have to tell Charles that his cologne or aftershave or whatever was too strong. Sweat started to bead on his temple as he fought not to screw up his eyes as that would only make it worse.

“Steve?” a gentle voice murmured in his ear, concerned.

Steve looked up to see Eddie regarding him in that soft, careful way he does when one of the girls doesn’t feel good.

“There you are,” he murmured. “You okay there, beautiful?”

Steve blinked up at him for a moment before realizing Eddie hadn’t been home long enough for him to experience one of Steve’s migraines.

“I get migraines,” he croaked out. “And they can be triggered by strong scents, like Mr. Sinclair’s cologne.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “Sheesh. Yeah. I can smell it on you pretty intense. Come on, take the shirt off.”

If Steve’s brain hadn’t been trying to leak out of his ears he would have told Eddie to buy him dinner first, but as it was it, he meekly did as he was told. Eddie tossed the shirt into the nearby laundry room and then bundled Steve upstairs. Before he could even protest or let out so much as a whimper, Eddie was back with painkillers and a glass of water from Steve’s bathroom.

Steve took them dutifully, knowing that if he wanted to be a person at all later he would need to take them.

“What about lunch and the girls?” he finally managed to say weakly as Eddie tucked him.

“You do realize I did this by myself for a whole year, right?” Eddie asked with a raised eyebrow. “I think I can handle a single afternoon without you.”

When Steve whimpered, Eddie let out a sigh. “I didn’t mean it like that. Of course I love having you around and taking care of my girls. But you’re human, Stevie and taking an afternoon off will not cause an apocalypse, okay?”

“I thought there was only supposed to be the one apocalypse,” Steve muttered as the painkillers began to filter through the pain.

“Nah,” Eddie said with a grin. “Human has already gone through several. It’s like Ragnarok and the Greek end of the world. It just brings in the next era of humanity. It’s only Christians that think that it’s the one.”

Steve hummed as sleep took over.

Eddie stood up and turned off the light. “You Steve Harrington are going to be the death of me one day. But god, what a way to go.”

Eddie made sure to get rid of anything that might trigger Steve’s migraines. He even made Mike go home and change once when he showed up where an entire can of Axe body spray.

He made sure the laundry detergent was scent free, same with the girls’ shampoo. He almost tossed his own cologne before Steve stopped him.

“Most men’s scents are okay,” Steve explained. “Because they don’t use floral or fruit scents. Please don’t stop wearing yours.” He blushed a deep red. “I like it.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shut up but dutifully complied. Always keeping it this side of tasteful, but he began to wear it more often.

The school year started and the raccoon problem increased.

“I just don’t get it,” Hopper growled. “There is only one way to open them and there is no way a raccoon should be able to do it.”

Eddie rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Steve was inside with the girls and he was taking care of the problem himself. He had to stop relying so much on Steve for the day-to-day because Steve was only paid to be the nanny, not Eddie’s personal assistant.

“I’m starting to think Steve’s right about it being vagrants,” he muttered. “Because you’re right, no animal should be smart enough to open the bins.”

Hopper sighed. “I don’t mind homeless, it’s not like they want to be there. But I wish they’d come to the house looking for food and not digging it out of the trash.”

Eddie nodded. He had done his own dumpster diving when he was a kid and his dad had been too drunk to remember to buy groceries, never mind toilet paper.

“Any way to lure them out of the shadow and into Benny’s cooking?” he asked.

“I don’t rightly know,” Hopper said with a laugh. “But I’ll figure something out. It seems they know how to dodge the cameras, so I’ll pick up a couple of motion sensor lights so I can see when someone comes around.”

“That will have to do in the mean time,” Eddie said rubbing his cheek thoughtfully. “It’s too bad that it’s a person and not a critter. I think Janie was hopping to tame the poor thing to antagonize her sister.”

Hopper barked out a laugh. “Sounds like her. Well, I best be heading to the hardware store for those lights.”

Eddie watched him go with trepidation. Critters could be rehomed where they’d be safer, but humans? That was a much tougher fish to fry.

Suddenly there was a clash, a bang, a clatter followed by an ear piercing scream. Eddie was up out of his bed faster than lightning and made a dash for the girls’ bedroom.

He met Steve outside the door, but when they looked in, both girls were sound asleep. Janice, splayed out like a starfish and Joan, curled up into a little ball.

“If that wasn’t the girls...” Steve said, wide-eyed and panting for breath.

Then there was another clatter and a scream that clearly came from the kitchen. They dashed down the stairs and raced to the kitchen. There standing in the middle of kitchen was a very disgruntled Hopper holding what appeared to be a pile of rags. Until it screamed again.

“Quick!” Hopper huffed. “Close the door!”

Steve dove for the door and locked it behind him as Hopper yelped in pain. He dropped what he was holding and landed on the clean floor with a thud. It scrambled up and away from the groundskeeper, tucking itself in the corner by the pantry.

That’s when Eddie could see what it was. Or rather who. Her head was clipped short but there was no doubt it was a girl, she looked about twelve. Far too thin and gaunt. Her blue eyes darted around as she tried to make herself as small as possible.

“Looks like you caught your raccoon, chief,” Steve said coming up to stand next to Eddie with his hands on his hips.

“I’m not a raccoon,” she huffed. “I have a name.” Then she frowned. “Or I will once I remember it.”

All three men looked at her in varying degrees of shock, concern, and disbelief.

“You don’t remember your name?” Hopper asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. That complicated matters.

“Jane!” the girl shouted startling everyone. “It’s Jane. My name, I mean. Jane Ives.” But instead of filling out with the name, the girl seemed to shrink further from them, like her name was shameful and ill-fitting.

“Does your parents know where you are?” Eddie asked, kneeling down to look her in the eye.

She shook her head. “Never knew my dad, he ran off when my mom got pregnant with me, Mom is in the hospital.”

“Don’t you have anyone you can stay with?” Steve said, kneeling next to Eddie. “Another relative of your mom’s maybe?”

Jane shook her head. “Aunt Becky said she wasn’t equipped to take care of me and Mom so she put me in foster care.”

Eddie closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose, hanging his head between his shoulders.

“Fuck!”

“That’s a bad word,” she said primly.

Hopper chuckled. “It is at that. But what Mr. Munson means is that if you’ve run away from your foster home, you’re gonna be in a world of hurt when we take you back.”

Jane leapt forward and tried to get past Eddie and Steve but they formed an effective blockade keeping her from the door.

“No!” she cried. “I don’t want to go back! They’ll hurt me again!”

Eddie and Hopper shared a glance. They knew. They knew that most foster places where cesspools.

Now they had an even bigger problem.

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Tag list: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight @gregre369

2- @a-little-unsteddie @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach @yesdangerpls @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch

4- @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

8- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

9- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers @fearieshadow @blondie1006

10- @thesecondfate @wheneverfeasible @depressed-freak13 @genderless-spoon @sadiea20

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #nanny au #nanny steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson

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muzaktomyears · 7 months ago

Text

Yoko said to me: ‘I was told John was in danger in New York’

Elliot Mintz was the friend with whom John Lennon and Yoko Ono spent some of their most private moments. Now he has written a book in which he reveals what went on after the former Beatle was murdered in 1980

John Lennon and Yoko Ono in New York on November 26, 1980, just days before his death

Part of me started to wonder if perhaps I’d acted rashly. My mother had heard a radio report about a shooting on 72nd Street. The Lennons were not answering their phones. The Dakota operator had hung up on me. Was that enough to send me racing to the airport to catch the last flight to New York? But then I saw a flight attendant exit the cockpit, tears streaming down her cheeks. As she hesitatingly made her way down the aisle, I reached out and touched her arm.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “They killed him,” she answered, gulping back a sob. “They murdered John Lennon.”

For a long moment I found it impossible to process what I’d been told. And then, like a flash fire in the brainpan, the horror of what happened exploded in my consciousness. “John is dead,” I whispered to myself. My best friend was gone. My heart began to race, I found myself gasping for air. I literally doubled over in pain as my whole body absorbed the shock.

Lennon, Ono and Elliot Mintz outside the Mampei hotel in Karuizawa, Japan, in 1977

I don’t know how long I sat, crumpled in agony, but eventually I regained a modicum of composure. I realised I had to marshal my thoughts and plan what to do once the plane touched down at JFK. I needed to pull myself together, bury my grief, and be strong for Yoko and Sean.

I had seen John just a few weeks earlier, in New York; he and Yoko and I had spent a long evening at the Dakota listening to their soon-to-be-dropped Double Fantasy album. At around two in the morning I said my goodbyes. John walked me to the door.

“Remember,” he cautioned me, “walk on the side of the street where the doormen are. Don’t walk on the side of the street next to the park.” “John,” I said, “I grew up in New York. I know how to walk in this city.” That was the last time I saw him.

Lennon and Ono at home with their son, Sean

By the time I got to the Dakota, at around 7.30am, at least 5,000 people had gathered on 72nd Street. At the request of Richie De Palma, Studio One’s office manager, a couple of officers helped me across the police cordon. Suddenly, I was face-to-face with the crime scene: there was blood on the pavement as well as shards of broken glass from a window shattered by one of the bullets.

I rode the elevator to the seventh floor. The Lennons’ housekeeper, Masako, let me in. It was clear she’d been crying. “Yoko-san in bedroom,” she said in broken English. “Door locked.”

I paused at the closed door, then gently knocked. “Yoko, it’s Elliot,” I told her softly. “I’ll be right outside until you are ready to see me. I’m not going anywhere.”

After about five minutes, I saw the door open a crack. I stood up and peered inside the bedroom, illuminated by the big-screen TV, which was showing live local news footage of the Dakota. Yoko had been watching, with the volume off. Even though the windows were shut and the shutters closed, I could hear the music from seven floors below. The sound of mourners on the street singing John’s lyrics would fill the apartment for days to come.

Lennon surrounded by fans in New York in August 1980

Standing by the bed, wearing silk pajamas and a kimono, Yoko looked incredibly frail. I reached over and gingerly put my arm around her. She touched my face, then crawled back into bed.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked her. “There’s nothing anybody can do,” she weakly responded. “Have you eaten anything? Can I bring a cup of tea?” “Elliot,” she answered, “your presence is comforting. You don’t have to say or do anything.”

I sat down in my usual spot, the white wicker chair, and we both watched the images flickering on the TV. For a while, my eyes wandered around the room, eventually settling on John’s bedside table, where I spotted a pile of books — it was an eclectic stack, to say the least, everything from The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir to Your Child’s Teeth: A Parent’s Guide to Making and Keeping Them Perfect by Stephen J Moss. Yoko’s reading material was similarly varied.

Suddenly, a picture of the suspect appeared on the screen. Yoko sat up and stared intently at the mug shot of the assailant; she seemed both mesmerised and repulsed — and deeply confused — by the face of the man who had murdered her husband.

The following weeks were a blur. I spent a lot of them downstairs at Studio One, joining a staff of four or five employees, fielding a never-ending barrage of phone calls. At one point early on, an assistant held out a phone for me. “He says he’s Ringo Starr,” she whispered. Ringo was calling from a pay phone and wanted to make a condolence call with his girlfriend (now wife), Barbara. I ended up sneaking them into the building through a back entrance.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Ringo told her when she greeted him and Barbara in her bedroom. “No, you don’t,” Yoko replied, “but I’m grateful you are here.”

One evening, just a day or two after John’s murder, I returned to the apartment to find Julian Lennon sitting alone in the kitchen. He was now 17 and had just flown in from London by himself to pay his respects. (He told me later that the flight was filled with passengers reading papers covered with headlines about his father’s killing.) John and Julian had made some repairs to their estranged relationship, but Julian had practically no relationship with Yoko or with his half-brother, Sean.

“Would you look after Julian?” Yoko asked me. “It’s so depressing here. Take him around New York, show him different places.”

She was asking partially as a kindness to Julian but also as a mercy to herself. Yoko was in no condition to deal with John’s grieving teenage son; she could barely handle her own child’s grief. Sean reminded her so much of John, she found it painful to be in the same room with him, so he and his nanny were dispatched to the Lennons’ vacation home in Florida.

Police outside the Dakota, the apartment complex where Lennon was killed

I found the idea of sightseeing with Julian a bit odd, but we ended up spending a day together, culminating with a trip to the viewing deck atop the World Trade Center. It was one of the few pleasant interludes in an otherwise unbearable stretch of misery.

One of the other assignments I took up around this time was reading through the bags of hate mail. The most worrying ones were flagged for further investigation by law enforcement and shared with Yoko’s private security, who started pinning the names and descriptions of the senders on a bulletin board at Studio One.

I was always running into bodyguards in the kitchen. The irony was impossible to miss: this house built on love and peace was now filled with guns. At one point, even I started carrying a snub-nosed .38 revolver in an ankle holster. I was also provided with a bulletproof vest. One of the few times I recall willingly slipping into it was when a man fitting the description of one of the assailant’s fan club letter writers was spotted on the street outside the Dakota.

He was a tall, young, otherwise innocuous-looking fellow. I approached him carefully and asked him for the time. When he lifted his wrist to look at his watch, I could see under his jacket what appeared to be the butt of a gun.

I quickly returned to the Dakota lobby and called the police. They arrived in minutes, pushed him against a wall, discovered what was indeed a weapon, and hurried him away.

Julian Lennon, Ono, Mintz and Sean Lennon at the dedication of Strawberry Fields as a memorial to Lennon in New York in 1984

Nearly as shocking and upsetting as the dangers that were swirling outside the Dakota were the perils lurking inside. Yoko would learn that some of her most trusted confidants were scheming against her. By far the worst offender was an assistant named Fred Seaman, a trusted aide who, earlier in the year, accompanied John on a trip to Bermuda — the trip on which John wrote many of the songs for Double Fantasy.

Incredibly, almost immediately after the murder, Seaman began smuggling shopping bags stuffed with private papers from the Lennon offices and residences — including five personal journals that John kept hidden under his bed — hauling them uptown to the apartment of his accomplice, Robert Rosen, as part of a scheme to write a tell-all book. We eventually got the diaries back, and Seaman ended up pleading guilty to second-degree larceny.

Yoko found herself surrounded by traitors. Whom could she turn to? For a while, she leaned on the companionship of her friend and interior designer Sam Havadtoy, who not only moved into the Dakota but began sharing a bedroom with Yoko, although not the one she had slept in with John. This struck many on her staff as curious. Although Havadtoy was undeniably charming, appeared to have Yoko’s best interests at heart, and was terrific with Sean, he was also a gay man.

Yoko continued to grow more and more wary of just about everyone around her. I don’t know if I ever fell under Yoko’s suspicion but I do recall one moment when she and I came dangerously close to a serious argument, after I implored Yoko to let me conduct a radio interview with her and Sean to dispel some of the more outrageous rumours being spun about the Lennon family following the publication of Albert Goldman’s book about John, like the notion that he was an abusive husband and father (who once allegedly kicked Sean across a room); and that he was a drugged-out recluse, possibly schizophrenic, and an enthusiastic devotee of Thai prostitutes.

“I’ve never asked you to comment about any of the other books, but this one we can’t ignore,” I told her. Yoko paused for a moment, then responded. “Let me check with my advisers,” she said, meaning her team of tarot readers and numerologists.

Mourners at a vigil for Lennon shortly after his death

I’d never expressed scepticism about Yoko’s mystical beliefs but for once, I pushed back. “Yoko, let me ask you something,” I said. “If these advisers are as good as you believe they are, why is it that none of them saw what was going to happen to John? Why was there no warning?”

Yoko’s answer astonished me. “Elliot,” she said, “how do you know I wasn’t warned? Did you ever ask me if there were warnings?”

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll ask you: Did any of your advisers warn you about John being in danger?” “Yes,” she answered. “I was told he was in danger in New York and that he should be removed immediately. That’s why I sent him to Bermuda over the summer … But I couldn’t keep him away forever. He had to come back at some point.”

I was speechless. “Look, Elliot,” Yoko went on, “you know how John felt about his own safety. We talked about this at our kitchen table when your friend [the actor Sal Mineo] was killed. John said, ‘If they’re going to get you, they’re going to get you.’ It didn’t matter what my advisers told me. He didn’t believe in bodyguards, he wouldn’t put up with them. He wanted to be free.”

(source)

#john lennon #yoko ono #elliot mintz #removed the photo of mdc because fuck that

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sepulchralblues · 9 months ago

Text

@jilymicrofics A My Lady Jane AU for Jily in august - elegant, bride, knight, royalty, soulmate

“I didn’t ask to be his bride, Petunia.” Lily wanted to tear her hair out its elegant crown-braid, half out of frustration, half to piss her sister off further. “Just because I’m going through with this doesn’t mean I want to be stuck in a loveless marriage with some doddering old fool I’ve never even met before.”

She stood before a large mirror, edges gilded a brown that once used to be gold, in a floor length wedding dress. If she held any care for the day itself, she’d notice the gown was rather stunning, a similar fashion to the royal wedding gown from last season. Instead, she was spending the morning of her wedding like any other day growing up with her darling dear sister – arguing.

“You could at least try to appreciate the effort Vernon’s parents put into securing this match for you,” Petunia returned with venom. “You’re nearly five and twenty summers old, Lily. You’re practically a spinster. After Mother died last year, you weren’t able to secure any prospects for yourself. Without Vernon stepping in, who knows what state you'd be in a year’s time from now.”

Anywhere but here sounded absolutely lovely to Lily at the moment, but she refrained from antagonizing Petunia anymore.

Lily sighed and turned away from the mirror. She waved off the handmaiden who stepped out of the shadows to help her down from the platform the tailor had her stand on for the final fitting of the gown.

Stepping closer to her sister, Lily said softly, “Understand that I am only doing this for the sake of my inheritance. If this stupid clause had not been in the will, I would have taken the money and left for Paris the minute I could get my hands on it.”

Petunia smirked. “Would you have waited for a knight in shining armor to come along before you got married then? Someone who was, perhaps, your soulmate?”

Some childish part of Lily was stung, hearing the dreams she’d once whispered to Petunia under the covers of darkness in their childhood bedroom thrown back in her face so mockingly.

But her sister was not wrong. As stupid as it sounded, Lily had spent her entire life dreaming of a love that felt like an adventure, rather than one built and bred in the stuffy castles and manors they had grown up in. It was the dream that Paris had held, and the hope that had shattered the day their parents will was announced in full.

Neither child would gain access to their portion of the (significantly large) inheritance until after they were married. And they had to be married before the age of twenty-five.

Hence the stalemate the Lily found herself locked in – a marriage to one James Potter in return for her inheritance. She’d wait the minimum period out, call for a divorce, and finally – finally – leave this place for good.

The double doors at the far end of the room burst open before she could reply. It was the Butler.

“My ladies,” he bowed deep, “it is time. The ceremony will begin shortly, and your presence in required in the garden.”

“Well then,” Petunia said. “Off we go, before you change your mind and embarrass our family again.”

Clenching her jaw, Lily followed Petunia out of the room.

–

James ran a finger along his collar in an attempt to find respite from the sweltering heat of the garden. He failed remarkably, but it was yet to be seen whether it was really the summer heat or the prospect of what was to come that was making him sweat.

Sirius Black, his best man and best mate, heard his annoyed huff and chuckled. “Heat of the moment getting to you, Prongsie?”

James ignored the taunt and focused on straightening his cuff links.

While he’d always known the day was coming, he hadn’t quite let himself wonder what it would be like. He’s never been one for stage fright, but they don’t really prepare you to stand in front of a crowd of two hundred-odd nobles and minor royalty to say the most damning two words of your life.

And damning they were, because whoever this Lily Evans was, he doubted she was any match for the girl he’d been eyeing up at the pub last night when out celebrating the last of his bachelorhood with his mates. Or the girl from the week before, her raven hair spread like ink on his bedspread, her moans like ecstasy in his ears. Or even–

The band began its tune, and the guests shuffled to their feet. He shared a final glance with Sirius. It was time.

First came the sister (he thought it was the sister at least), in a gown of deep scarlet with her arm looped around Vernon’s.

Sirius coughed something that sounded like that slug beside him, and James could only agree.

It was when he saw the white gown brushing the navy carpet that James looked at his parents. His mother met his gaze, a grave look on her face.

They couldn’t screw this up, she was trying to say. This was the last chance they had to fix things, their last attempt to root the problem out before it came back to destroy his entire family.

Sirius inhaled sharply, causing James to finally look at his bride for the first time.

Except he’d seen her before. Nine hours before, to be precise, in a badly lit pub, with a glass of ale in his hands and the golden daze of drink highlighting the arch of her eyebrows, her delicate collarbones.

Lily Evans was, in fact, the very girl he’d been flirting with last night.

Judging by the shock that stole across her face and the slightest pause in her steps, his identity was news to her too.

Suddenly everything that had seemed too daunting and painful about this marriage didn’t seem as bleak.

–

Oh, thought Lily. Oh, fuck.

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naivesilver · 7 months ago

Note

giving you full rein on the kid fic dialogue ask and suggesting maybe something from the toddler ask? you can pick a child and parent combo from anything you like ~

THIS WASN'T EVEN THE FINAL ASK BUT I AM SO LATE AAAAH sorry you know how much I love my babies thank you for encouraging me 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 I'm gonna be super predictable now!

Kid/Parent Dialogue Prompts

4. "With the rate uncles/aunts/grandparents/friends are buying stuff for you, you will be the most spoiled kid ever"

"Do you ever get the feeling that they're going to grow up as the most spoiled kids ever?"

Emma glances at August with her eyebrows raised, quietly puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

Technically, they should be getting coffee like the grown adults, friends-who-rarely-get-to-catch-up that they are, but since there is a distinct lack of free, unaccompanied time in both of their lives now, what they're actually doing is drinking their coffee at the outside tables of Granny's while their sister and daughter respectively entertain each other. Of course, it was clear within minutes that the girls had no intention of doing so - Apple is currently burying her hands in the potted plants, alone, while Cedar is nowhere to be seen, having long since wandered into the bowels of the diner.

That doesn't seem to bother August much, however, because he continues, undeterred: "You have possibly the largest extended family in town- how much stuff have people bought for your sister, Raven or Sparrow, and how long has it been since you've heard anyone saying no to them? Because I am related to considerably fewer people, and our house is still full of kids' stuff, and I know Belle has the same problem with Rosa and Gideon."

He...has a point, actually. Emma has long since matured past the point of being jealous, but that doesn't mean she's blind - children are protected and splurged on for in Storybrooke, especially children she knows. Apple is likely the best dressed little girl in town, and the way Henry tells it, Raven and Sparrow own just about every toy that makes noise. Nobody in her family will grow up wanting for attention, that's for sure.

Still, there's a difference between agreeing with August and telling him that out loud. "Come on, I'm sure it's not that bad-"

It's at that moment, as if summoned by her comment, that Cedar shows up on Granny's front step, like a little bushy haired apparition. The girl trots over to them with what looks like a cup of pudding, spoon included, in one hand and a small sandal in the other - she offers it to August with a miniature frown, shifting her weight off her bare foot. "Daddy, I los' m' shoe."

"Wow, a sentence I've never heard before," August deadpans, though he still lifts his daughter onto his knee with practiced ease, only gesturing to her other possession once he's done wrestling said shoe back in its place. "Where did you get that, kiddo?"

Cedar grins at him, the wide, gap-toothed smile of toddlers all over the world - there are already smears of chocolate around her mouth, which means she must have gotten more than a taste of her treat by now. "Grampa."

"Of course you did." He pats her back as she hops off his lap, then turns back to Emma with a look and a gesture that scream What did I tell you? for all to see.

For her part, Emma simply rolls her eyes. "Alright, you've made your point. Look, if it bothers you so much, why don't you tell everyone to stop buying her stuff?"

"Did your mother listen when you tried to do that?"

"Point taken." She mulls it over for a bit, watching the little figure bound away, then says, distractedly: "Does letting them be the most spoiled kids ever include allowing them to run with a spoon in their mouth?"

August follows her gaze, then stands up with a muffled curse and chases after his daughter before she falls on her face. Emma barely stifles her laughter, grateful that at least she's not still losing the argument - for a moment there, both father and child looked entirely too smug for her liking, which tends to be the only expression where they share an uncanny resemblance.

She just hopes Cedar will lose that trait as she grows up. She doesn't think she could bear it, if she had two Augusts to contend with.

#lizardthelizard #ask meme #fanfic #ouat #au: ever after storybrooke #august booth #emma swan #cedar wood #ever after high #eah #I missed them so much that's why I couldn't decide on a prompt for so long ajvajshsnsjdns

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liminalmemories21 · 1 year ago

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2023 Writing Round Up!

tagged by @jesuisici33. Thank you!

Writing Round-Up: Share what you wrote this year! It can be works you posted to Ao3, Wattpad, Tumblr, or anywhere else! You can share everything you wrote or just the ones your most excited about.

Fewer stories this year, but they were all mostly much longer. I genuinely cannot believe that Knave 2 was this year, it feels like so long ago, but apparently was just February. I also can't believe I wrote it in two months. I think maybe Knave 3 kicked my ass so much I forgot that Knave 2 wasn't longer ago.

February

The Knave of Hearts . . . he said he'd steal no more (February 25, 2023 | 60,161 words | Rated E | Tarlos | White Collar AU)

Do you know where Tyler was the night of the 10th?"

"TK," he repeats stubbornly.

Mattheson looks up. "What?"

"His name is TK. Nobody calls him Tyler except his mother.”

Mattheson makes an ostentatious show of noting the correction in the file, although it hasn’t made a difference the last seven times Carlos has said it. "So, the night of the 10th, do you know where Mr. Strand was?"

June

We Were in Screaming Color (June 25, 2023 | 66,639 words | Rated E | Tarlos | Season 4 Interstitials)

All the conversations we didn't see in Season 4

July

The square root of sixty nine (July 6, 2023 | 11,630 words | Rated E | Tarlos)

5 times TK asked for consent + 1 time Carlos did

August

A Secret is a Strange Thing - Owen, Gwyn, Enzo (August 5, 2023 | 5,793 words | Rated T | Tarlos adjacent)

character studies - six kinds of secrets each person kept

October

to be at home in fragments (October 9, 2023 | 3,488 words | Rated G | Tarlos)

collection of tumblr prompts

November

The Knave of Hearts . . . brought back the tarts (November 17, 2023 | 65,951 words | Rated E | Tarlos | White Collar AU)

It starts so innocuously that it’s hard to pinpoint, even in hindsight. But he thinks that maybe it was his father’s birthday, sitting on the porch waiting to digest lunch before they embark on cake. TK is sketching a line of Steinlen style cats to march along the walls of Marisol’s bedroom. [ . . .]

His father laughs at the two of them. “That reminds me actually, a friend of yours stopped by to visit me the other day." TK freezes in reaching for his ice tea, and Carlos’s father arches an eyebrow. "Tulson. Agent Tulson stopped by my office. Who did you think I meant?”

TK exhales and picks up his glass. “The mind boggles. What did Matt want?”

“Wanted to ask if I’d heard any rumors about a new art thief nosing around town for targets.”

Think It Over, Think It Under (November 30, 2023 | 12,864 words | Rated T | Tarlos adjacent)

6 conversations TK had with his sisters-in-law + 1 conversation Carlos had with his sisters

December

Once Upon a Bus coming soon - the bus driver AU

tagging @ladytessa74, @chicgeekgirl89, @chaotictarlos, @strandnreyes, @paperstorm, @rmd-writes, @louis-ii-reyes-strand, @reyesstrand, and @welcometololaland

#tarlos #fic #writing round up #911 lonestar

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courfee · 2 years ago

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if this be done (part 1)

@jegulus-microfic | august 26 - crow | wc 1.1k | part 1, 2, 3

a magical realism au with witchboy james :)

James Potter lives in a beautiful cottage in the middle of a green forest with red shutters on all his windows and yellow flowers of every variety one can think of in his garden. His hair is as messy as his working desk, his smile as bright as the early morning sun streaming through his kitchen window, his hands as warm as the fire keeping a big cauldron bubbling at all odd hours of the day, and his heart is as open as the door to his house.

James Potter is a witch, and a skilled one at that, and he offers his abilities up to anyone who asks for help. A plea for a remedy against an especially peculiar sickness is met with a vial full of purple, steaming potion, a cry for help about a spell gone wrong is silenced with a scroll of a messily scrawled on counter spell, and a knock on his door from a lost soul with a heartache is answered with empathy and patience, a gentle smile, an open ear and cup of hot chocolate.

His work helps people and the people help James in return, sending well wishes and favours and ingredients for his potions. Moreover, they give James something to do and someone to be, a person who likes to help and is always there when needed.

He likes his life, likes his work and likes what it has done for him. It’s his magic that brought his best friends into his life, all of them in a similar fashion.

First had been Peter Pettigrew, a small boy with bright eyes and a brighter laugh. Or, he was a boy once James had found the right spell and the correct combination of daisyroot draught and honesty honey, buttercup brew and sunflower syrup. It took a while until James managed to turn him from the little brown rat that had turned up on his doorstep back into the boy he had been before he had stumbled into the wrong pixie ring and eaten the wrong mandrake leaves.

After that, word spread out quickly and Sirius Black was the next one to turn up. A loud and cheerful boy by day who, at night, turned quiet and terrified, the remnants of his family life that had ended when his mother had cursed him to be a big black dog, like his namesake in the stars. The re-transformation was more difficult this time round. Curses were not one of James’ specialities, and it took a while for him to undo the damage – at least the physical one – that his family had left on him. In the months it took Sirius stayed with him, and by the end James had not only gained more knowledge but a best friend as well.

Last had been Remus Lupin. He, too, had come to seek help about an animal problem. Turning into a wolf when the moon stood high and full plagued him even during the moonless days and, having heard of James’ previous success regarding animal transformations, he had sought him out, with scars on his face and hope in his eyes.

James didn’t exactly fail that time. He never managed to complete what he had sat out to do, but when, after having to bring Remus’ the news that he would not manage to turn him back into a full-time human, Remus smiled at him and said “I do not mind anymore,” James knew he still had managed to help where help was needed. Remus completed their little band of marauders, and with them found the acceptance he had always needed, and on top of that found love he had never expected to find with Sirius.

All in all it doesn’t surprise James when one afternoon in the late days of summer there is a knock on his front door and he opens it to find yet another animal looking up at him with dark, beady eyes and asking, a voice more human than crow-like, “Are you James Potter?”

James smiles, pushes the door further open and says, “That I am. Come on in and tell me what I can do for you.”

The crow walks in, head held high, black feathers shimmering in the green glow of the forest, and follows James to his living room. James takes a seat on his worn-out sofa and motions the crow to do the same.

“My name is Regulus,” the crow says, once perched on the arm rest opposite James, “and I have found myself in the unfortunate situation of being cursed.”

James smiles at Regulus, encouragingly and brightly, and says, “Lucky for you I’ve gained some experience with curses last year. It’s still not my speciality, but I will do what I can do unravel the curse so you can walk on two legs again.”

Regulus gives him a look that makes it obvious that had he still had eyebrows, they would now lift up into his hairline. “I am walking on two legs,” he says flatly. “It’s not the walking I’m concerned about.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, all my previous clients had four legs when they came to me. This is a bit of a change, you see? But no matter, I’m sure there is not much difference between a crow and a dog.”

“Maybe I should find a different witch,” Regulus huffs. “One who is competent enough to not think a crow and a dog are anything alike.”

“Regulus,” James says, and the name feels pleasantly cold and smooth on his tongue, “You will find that I am the most competent witch.”

“And the most arrogant one, too, it seems.”

It is the first time that James’ smile falters, fog obscuring the morning sun. “I’ll help you,” James says. “It will take time and it won’t be easy, but I’ll help you. But for the duration of the process you will have to stay in my house.”

The crow grumbles, but he nods his little head.

“And while you are here I will not brook you being unkind to anyone who comes by. If you can’t be a decent human being – or crow, for that matter – to any of the people who seek help from me, then I cannot help you either.”

Regulus steps from one foot onto the other, ruffling his feathers as he gives this a thought. “I’m not an unkind person,” he says finally, “I simply cannot stand stupidity and people so often are stupid. But I’ll step aside when you have clients and will not bother them. Does that work?” Regulus seems rather rude to James and he must admit he doesn’t quite like him from the few words they have exchanged. But he is James Potter, and who he is is a person who likes to help and is always there when needed. No matter how awful of a person, Regulus needs his help, and so James blows away the fog, gives Regulus a sunny smile and nods. “That works. Welcome to my home, Regulus, make yourself comfortable and I will start looking for the right spells.”

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xxgwenstacyxx · 10 months ago

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Day 1: Loyalty

They’d come back for me.

The words burned at the back of my throat like salt water, but they didn’t make any sense. They didn’t fit together with everything else I knew, refused to click into place, clogged up my airways like I’d already gone under.

The water now reached up to my thighs. The narrow gap where it flooded the cabin forced it into a current that lapped at my legs like a clingy turtle ray. If I weren’t chained up and about to drown like the deceased rats we tossed overboard on the first days of a voyage I might have found something relaxing about it. The ocean had always had that effect on me.

I had to yell to be heard over the mournful groan of the sinking ship. “What are you doing here?”

Surya didn’t answer. Of course they didn’t. The stupid thing had never once listened to me since we’d gotten stuck with each other, and they sure weren’t starting now. Not even with the ship sinking faster and faster, wooden planks creaking and breaking. Not even with the water sloshing around their chest when it only just finished engulfing my hip.

“I told you to stay back,” I snapped, because I was stuck and the current was now slapping against my belly, and now Surya would die with me. Brainless, ridiculous child.

It made no sense. I’d yelled at them to leave. I’d told them I’d never cared about them. I’d thrown their mother’s death in their face like you tossed stones after seagulls to shoo them away. If there was one thing I excelled at, it was turning people away. Just ask Basilica.

“Why’d you come back?!”

The water now circled my waist, and Surya was too busy tugging at the chains to answer me. Like a squirt like them had a chance breaking apart metal. All they’d accomplished was to give the ship two rats to drown.

x x x

I wanted to give the August writing challenge from @problematicprocrastinator a go! :) I'm still getting to know my characters, so even though these snippets probably won't be in the final version, I'm hoping they'll let me get to know them a little better!

This first scene would take place all the way in the third arc of the novel. My main character Maryan gets herself in some trouble and isn't exactly thrilled about who comes dashing to her rescue.

#writing #creative writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writewithbeth #august writing challenge #my writing #bones of sea foam

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bluedalahorse · 10 months ago

Note

What is this midnight sun bullshit???

(also hi :)

Hi friend! I have returned from Colorado.

Ooh, I’m glad you asked about this one.

So “what is this midnight sun bullshit” was a file started in the autumn of 2021, shortly after I’d posted Terrain Boundaries Territory to A03. Good lord, I wrote TBT before I learned how to punctuate poetry. I am much better at poems now. Also there’s just some really early show weirdness in it! Season 1 had just aired and we might have barely heard that season 2 was happening, but had minimal idea of what it would involve.

Anyway. Terrain Boundaries Territory is basically about Sara infiltrating the circle of elite kids to become August’s girlfriend so she can find out his dark secrets and get revenge on him for what he did to Simon. Of course, there is also some lingering attraction and horniness wrapped up in that angry plan. August falls in love with Sara when they’re together, and she realizes the best revenge she can get is thoroughly breaking his heart.

Now, I was writing this immediately post season 1. From my past fannish lurking, it seemed like most fans thought it impossible that August would ever fall in love with Sara, and fall in love with her hard and fast. However, I was convinced that he would fall in love with her in season 2, though I didn’t know exactly what that would look like. I could just feel it in my gut.

So I started writing this fic as August’s B-side to Terrain Boundaries Territory. I wanted to understand the process of him falling in love with Sara, and also just how his brain worked. The more I started writing in his POV the more I enjoyed it, even if it was a messed up, thorny place. Also, there was a whole subplot where August’s mother Louise was Kristina’s Unfortunate Romance during their teens.

I called the file “what is this midnight sun bullshit” as an allusion to the time Stephenie Meyer rewrote Twilight from Edward Cullen’s POV. Note: I have never read a Twilight book in my life. However, back when I could drink, I would sneak mini bottles of vodka into the movie theatre, dump them into a slushie, and drunkwatch the Twilight movies. Hence me using the reference.

ANYWAY. I am including an excerpt of the midnight sun bullshit in question below, so you can get a sense of the generally angry-horny-angsty vibes that dominated this fic.

Shortly before this scene, August got hit in the face and learned a little bit about Sara having been bullied by kids at Marieberg. He also learned that Rosh and Ayub are Simon’s friends, but that Sara thinks they’re only nice to her because of Simon, and wouldn’t like her otherwise.

Now, Sara and August are hiding away in August’s room. Simon and Felice happen to be away on a choir trip, and have just posted a selfie of the two of them together.

—

Sara swipes up, then down, before an image stops her. Simon and Felice side by side in their Hillerska uniforms—on their way back from the choral festival, probably. Simon’s got his elbows on the table like no parent’s ever told him off for it, and Felice has left behind her pizza crusts on her plate. They’re laughing together. Friendly. Friends?

Sara draws a ripped-apart-heart curve around the edge of the picture of Simon and Felice. She presses her lips together, tight.

“What are you thinking?” August asks her.

“Only that I’m so angry,” Sara answers. “All the time.”

“I know.” Now August leans closer. “Me too.”

He kisses her, like really kisses her, like for once it isn’t to say notice me but instead I understand. Sara is the only mirror August can stand to look at right now, if he can call her that, and part of him wants to drown in all of her—their—fucked up emotions. She’s kissing him back as many times as he kisses her, giggles in the gaps between. Then Sara dips down, presses her mouth to his neck, does something with her lips and teeth that will leave a mark, the way he’s only done to girls before. August’s breath catches. Things are even more fucked now because he didn’t even know he was into that, or what it means that he’s into that. He wraps his hands around Sara’s, coaxing her phone out from between her fingers. Pulls away.

The phone is already lighting up with another text from Felice, so August sets it face down on his nightstand. He opens the nightstand drawer and takes out a box of condoms, glances sideways at his window and checks to make sure he closed the curtains.

He looks back at Sara, reminds himself how much she hates euphemisms. Asks if she wants to have sex.

“Okay. We can do that.” Sara scoots closer and pinches the hem of his shirt. “As long as your face doesn’t hurt too much.”

“I’m fine.” What August actually means is, I really don’t care about my face right now, and that’s rare enough that it might translate to fine.

Sara kisses him again, which gives way to touching skin and tangling arms and legs and everything else together. The physical release of being with her should be enough. Should be, except. After everything, when Sara’s noticed the time, and after August has watched her pull her clothes back on and arrange her hair, and long after she’s gone back to the working class house she can’t stand, and after lights out has been called in the Hillerska dorms—after all that, August can’t bring himself to sleep in the center of his mattress. Awake, with his back pressed against the cold wall, he observes the space where he wishes Sara still was. He doesn’t even dare smooth down the wrinkles she left behind on the bedsheets.

#young royals #sargust #asks

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weirdestbooks · 4 months ago

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The Shot Heard Around the World Chapter 36

Joint Effort (Wattpad | Ao3)

Table of Contents | Prev | Next

August 11, 1778

Réunion didn’t know what he thought of the Americans. They were a strange collection of people, although perhaps he would understand them better once he learned English.

Réunion has been sent into war on behalf of his mother, her ambassador, and her way of signaling that she genuinely cared about the war she was involved in. Réunion wasn’t used to this role. It hadn’t always been him. He was the replacement pick.

It had always been New France before him. New France, who was tall, looked more respectable and had been doing that job all his life. Réunion was a small island, the height of a child, more overlooked, receiving less respect.

It was harder for Réunion to adjust. But he had to. For his mother. He promised he would make her proud.

Even if Réunion didn’t like how they were going to manipulate the United States. It felt wrong for a colony to be the ambassador of an empire and tempt a colony that wanted independence into dependency with another empire. But Réunion had his orders, and he was a good son.

The United States came second to his mother’s wishes. Maybe she never participated in war, but she was just as terrifying and deadly as a soldier.

Réunion had been sent with the navy to a port city called Newport. The British had captured it earlier in the war, and the Americans wanted to reclaim it for their own. The Americans had had it under siege for a long time and were hoping that, with French support, they could take it back.

Réunion had been eager to help in the beginning, to enshrine a positive view of the French in the American’s eyes. If they could take back a city that the Americans had been attempting to reclaim for a long time, then they would begin the relationship in an excellent standing.

But the Americans seemed to think they were better than they were. First, the American commander deviated from the plan without informing them. It stung, but Réunion bit his tongue.

He tried not to take it as a slight. The Americans were technically the ones in charge of the whole operation, and he knew that they were not yet used to foreign support. Besides, the siege was going well, with their ships grounding British ones that the British were then being forced to scuttle as more pressure was put on the British occupiers.

Despite tensions and learning to work together, it seemed to all be going well. There were both French and American troops on the island, and the attack could begin soon.

Of course, that was when it had to go wrong.

For the past day, a storm had been ravaging the Rhode Island coast, and many of their ships had been damaged. It was a devastating blow.

Not to mention, a British fleet had arrived a few days earlier to push them out of the bay. While the British fleet had certainly been damaged as well, no French forces could remain on the island as they traveled to Boston for repairs.

At least, that was what the Admiral thought.

“Comte d’Estaing, are you sure it is wise to remove all of our troops from the island while we go for repairs? The Americans will take this as an insult, and the troops can join with the Americans while we are—”

“We cannot risk it. All French troops will be coming with us to Boston. The Americans have managed fine without us. They can manage while we fix the navy,” Comte d’Estaing said. Réunion frowned.

“Are you sure?” he asked. Comte d’Estaing nodded.

“I do not want to abandon the Americans either, but if they need our navy, we cannot let it all get destroyed because of a storm. They will understand,” Comte d’Estaing said. Réunion nodded, bowing his head.

“Of course. I am just worried that the Americans will take offense to this. My mother wants me to ensure peaceful and cooperative relations between us and the United States, so my focus lies there,” Réunion explained.

He didn’t know how else to explain his fears without challenging the admiral.

Réunion thought they were leaving too soon after the storm, with just a letter to explain why they were gone. He knew that as much as Comte d’Estaing didn’t see it as a slight to the Americans, they would take their sudden leave as a slight.

Réunion knew this would only make his job harder.

“The Americans will understand,” Comte d’Estaing said before waving Réunion away, “You're dismissed.”

Réunion couldn’t help but wonder if New France would have been dismissed like that or if Comte d’Estaing would have heard him out.

But there was no use in dwelling on it.

Réunion made his way back to his quarters and prepared pen and paper to construct a letter for the United States. If he couldn’t change Comte d’Estaing’s mind, he could do damage control. His mother didn’t care about the people. She cared about having some of United States’ strings in her command.

To the great country of the United States of America,

My dear sir, I regret the plan that Comte d’Estaing has chosen for our navy. While our ships are badly damaged, and we do need to go to Boston for repairs, I had hoped he would decide to leave our troops behind to help General Sullivan. Unfortunately, he has decided that it would be best to bring all of the French troops to Boston. He will not be swayed from this position.

I know you have long awaited our aid, and my mother has been eager to provide you with it, but we, just as you, are servants to the will of our people. I know this situation is not ideal, but we hope that once the repairs are finished, we can return to Newport Bay and secure the city you have been trying so hard to reclaim.

I am deeply sorry for any offense Comte d’Estaing’s decision might have caused you. I hope you can forgive us for the slight and help us to ensure peaceful and beneficial relations in the future, both in this war, and after it.

Your Obedient Servant, the Ambassador of the Kingdom of France in times of war,

The Colony of Réunion

#countryhumans #statehumans #historical countryhumans #the shot heard around the world by weird #statehumans réunion

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legacygirlingreen · 2 years ago

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August 1890 // Farmer Sebastian Sallow x reader (part 7)

Part 7, full master list and description here

Word Count: 1,500

And to hide that would be so dishonest

It had been well over a month since that day that Sebastian had stormed off. She had hardly seen him since, despite being over at his house most days to help with Anne. She would hope to catch him, often annoying his uncle by wondering where he was. If she had to guess the boy was hell bent on never seeing her again.

Anne wasn’t much help either, as whenever she asked why Sebastian was avoiding her, the sick girl simply would say “that’s something you need to ask Sebastian” before turning away with a grimace.

Eventually she had enough, giving up and deciding if he was going to avoid her, she wasn’t going to keep trying. A small part of her had to wonder if he ever even considered her a friend, or if she was simply a replacement for Anne in his brain. Regardless she tried to move on, and get ready for school to start. Her mother had worked hard to get her uniforms for school, the beautiful blue silk looking quite wonderful on her.

With only a few days left in the summer, she decided to seek out her willow in hopes of getting a quiet moment alone before she would be sharing a room once more. She had grown to like the solitude in the loft without rooming with siblings. Knowing the dorms in Beauxbatons, she’d be forced back into roommates.

As she sat down at the base of the tree, she heard a noise above her. Looking up she saw Sebastian attempting to cast disillusionment. He wasn’t fast enough and the two made eye contact.

“I didn’t know this spot was taken. Don’t worry I’ll find another.” she said curtly before picking up her book and lifting her skirt so she could stand, then proceed to start stomping away.

Sebastian dropped down and followed her, shouting “y/n wait” and she ignored him, much in the same way he’d done the same for almost a month now. Unfortunately she knew he’d catch her eventually but that didn’t stop her from continuing to walk away to prove a point.

When he finally caught up to her he pulled her wrist, forcing her around. Her eyes showed the venom boiling under her skin and he sulked back slightly, not used to seeing the girl so angry, let alone at him. Her anger caused the words on his tongue to die as he sputtered before her.

“Do you have anything to actually say, or are you just going to stand there sputtering like a fish out of water Sallow?”

“Right, I am an idiot… I’m sorry” he said almost as a question, and despite the rushed tone of his reply, she could tell there was a semblance of sincerity buried beneath the awkward nature of the apology. Regardless, a simple apology after so long ignoring her wasn’t going to cut it. And he knew that.

“What are you sorry for? I’m just the annoying girl next door, not like you need to waste your time on a silly little girl like me, especially since it's my fault you’ll be all alone apparently” she said, forcing the tears threatening to spill due to her anger in her eyes.

“You’re not, - I don’t see you - I know it's not -” he kept trying to get a proper explanation but he kept coming up short. Frustratingly he ran a hand through his dark hair and groaned.

“Do you plan to speak to me using complete sentences or just stand there ripping your hair out?” she asked snarkily.

“I should never have made you feel bad for something out of your control, alright? I had no right to be angry or disappear solely because I was disappointed you weren’t following in my footsteps. I think it's wonderful you can attend Beauxbatons, truly. I apologize for my unpleasant behavior as of late. It was not fair to you.” he explained, finally having collected his thoughts.

“What made you change your mind” she inquired, tone still blunt with him, but Sebastian could sense a mild amount of acceptance.

“I overheard you speaking with Anne, that day you came over to show her your school uniform… you seemed truly happy about going back to France. Not to mention the comments you made about feeling connected to your father by attending the same school as him… that you know he’d be proud of you… I suppose that hit a chord with me, as being at Hogwarts, knowing my father not only attended there, but also taught at the school… It makes me feel like a part of him lives on. How could I ever want anything less for you in that regard. You of all people” Sebastian’s tone shifted often throughout his explanation, first being remorseful, then nostalgic and ending with disgrace directed at himself.

“I accept your apology.” she said without offering any other commentary.

“I suppose you’re going to end up in blue regardless. I still think you’d have made a brilliant ravenclaw… but Beauxbatons is fortunate to have you” he said trying to liven up the mood.

“We still aren’t even sure what house I’d have been in. For all we know it would’ve been a Slytherin.” she joked.

“Absolutely not. You’d have made a terrible Slytherin. I can confirm, I’m sort of an expert.” he commented with mock confidence and she rolled her eyes as they looked at one another before breaking the serious expression, replacing them with soft laughter. After the small chuckles died down, they didn’t speak for a moment, letting the silence loom.

“I got something for you. Got it that day in Hogsmeade and I meant to give it to you but I ran off… sorry again about that.” he told her digging in his pocket.

Her eyebrow peaked at the thought of him getting something for her. Eventually finding what he was searching for, Sebastian pulled out an object small enough that it could be completely concealed by his hand. Gesturing for her to open her palm, she did as he asked.

Sebastian delicately placed the wand handle, made of an amethyst so light it was almost clear, in her hands, allowing her to examine it before he explained his thought process.

“Don’t get me wrong, your wand truly is a thing of beauty, not to mention it has enough character on its own… I still thought it could look more personal to you I suppose. I originally got it thinking you were going to Hogwarts, hoping that french amethyst would be special and could make you still feel connected to that part of you… I suppose now it's not that spectacular–” he started to reason when she hugged him tightly.

“This is beautiful Sebastian, thank you” she explained, rubbing it gently in her hands, imagining it on her wand, thinking how beautifully the color would look against the natural wood.

“I hope whenever you use it, you’ll think of Feldcroft, and remember that you’re never alone.” he explained and she smiled.

“I’m going to miss you, I am sorry things didn’t work out like you had hoped. I truly did want to be there, especially with Anne being sick…” she said remorsefully.

“I know, but let’s just make the best of the situation at hand. You’ll go, make lots of friends, learn so much, get to speak in your native language for a while, and then come back here for Yule time. I am sure by then I will have cured Anne, and we can all enjoy time in the hamlet” he said, overly hopeful but trying to convince himself it was possible.

“My owl is going to hate me you know” she joked and he laughed.

“We better start fattening them up now so that they can fly it off going back and forth between France and Scotland” he commented.

“Their wings may fall off if we aren’t careful” she playfully retorted.

“They will start a rebellion I’m sure”

“Could you imagine?” she laughed

“I can. They will have to deal. I couldn’t possibly go months without writing to my little cabbage” he joked and she laughed.

“What would I do without the obnoxious farmer next door?” she asked rhetorically.

“Obnoxious?! That fancy French school of yours already has you thinking you’re better than the poor, Scottish, farm boy now?” He pretended to be appalled but she could see the humor in his eyes.

“Never. And mind yourself: I am half french you know.” she mildly threatened and he laughed.

“How could I forget? Sébastien this. Sébastien that.” he teased making fun of how she pronounced his name with her accent.

“Says the boy who calls me cabbage intentionally as retribution for his qualms with my countrymen for making their language translate terms of endearments with vegetables.”

“Touche” he said.

“Touché. Another word from the French.” she teased pronouncing it correctly.

The pair of them erupted into a fit of giggles beneath the Sallow tree as the last moments of summer were spent making up for lost time…

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow/reader #fluff #sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader #hogwarts legacy fandom #anne sallow #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #farm boy sebastian sallow #farmer sebastian sallow

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lasagnaboxlesbian · 2 years ago

Text

CHAPTER ONE OUT NOW!! [link]

It’s sapphic silly hours so I wanted to post a little sneak peek of Chapter 1 (unfinished but alas… the ronance brain worms hath spoken) for my next multichapter fic!!

a Nancy POV rewrite of season 1 featuring ronance

Robin moves in next door to the Wheelers prior to the events of s1

Comphet Lesbian Nancy

fic title is based on the mbav theme song “Girl Next Door” by Copperpot

i think i’ll call her on the phone (or am i better off alone?)

Chapter 1 - fruit

August 15th, 1983

HAWKINS, INDIANA

Three knocks to Nancy’s open door had her turning her head to the voice she knew was waiting.

Holly and Mike usually just barge in, Mike would’ve yelled some excuse 50 miles a minute while Holly would’ve just toddled past the squeaky door. Her father, Ted, would’ve waited for her to skip down the steps for dinner and asked her to stay for a minute as he had something to say.

That left one person.

“Nancy, I told you we were leaving in five minutes,” her mother, Karen, stood firm by the door, back straight, hands on her hips as she looked over at her daughter disapprovingly. “Hang up on Barb, you can always call her back once we go see them.”

Nancy pursed her lips and nodded her head, the receiver of the phone shielded by a newly polished hand. “Yeah… yeah… just give me a second.”

Karen’s heels clacked as she walked downstairs, “Make sure to pick up the fruit basket on the table! I’ll be waiting by the door.”

She waited until the footsteps were farther enough away that huffed a breath, hoping Barb would hear on the other end. “God… she’s been-” she sighed again. “Anyways… um” Nancy looked out of her window, “you know the Taylors, right? Lived next door?”

“Yeah, yeah… my mom mentioned something about them… apparently the mom was like… uh never- nevermind.” Barb whispers, “Anyways… you were saying?”

Nancy’s brows furrow but elect to ignore that in favor of ranting to her best friend before having to put up false appearances. “New people moved in, my mom is obsessed with bringing all the neighbours a housewarming gift since it’s rare for anyone to move in around here, so-”

“Young lady, I am waiting!” Karen shouted from below.

“Look, I’ll call when I’m back, alright?”

“‘Course, Nance. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Click

Nancy bit back a smile, standing up from where she had been lounged across her bed. Facing herself in the mirror, she adjusted one of the clips holding back her long, wavy brown locks.

“Nancy!” Karen shouted.

She whipped her head to the door, rushing out as she slammed it behind her.

“No slamming doors,” she heard her father rumble from the lazy boy sat across the TV, casually flipping through a newspaper.

It was Saturday, about a week before school started, and Nancy would be faced with dealing with the new people across the yard.

Passing her mother she muttered, “And of course Mike doesn’t have to come.”

“I heard that.” Her mother spoke to Nancy’s retreating form, continuing once she saw her daughter with the gaudily packaged fruit basket. “Michael is at Will’s today. And as far as I’m concerned, you are at home.”

Nancy shuffled in her old white heels, the sides nipping at her ankles. “It’s not my fault-”

“Enough. I am not having this conversation before we go see the Buckley’s.”

Nancy bit her tongue, she was already under practical house arrest after she snuck out last week to go hang out with Barb past curfew.

In her defense, it was because Barb had sworn that she overheard Steve was going to be at Tiffany’s Birthday and had an open invite. They weren’t even planning on going in! Just scoping out the scene to see if the possibility of what Steve had told her at the end of last year was real. That he had started to notice her over freshman year, and that he wasn’t planning on seeing anyone anytime soon.

All they had to do was snoop around to see if he had a date, and Barb would shove it in Nancy’s face that he was just like the other dumb jocks that treated the high school hierarchy like it mattered.

But all it took was her mother opening her door and seeing the window open for her to jump down the Holland’s lines, both mothers desperately searching for the missing pair.

She’d been grounded until the school year and wasn’t keen on that getting a punishment far enough that they’d disconnect her personal line.

God, she couldn’t imagine not being able to talk to Barb about all the bullshit going on in her life. She always felt like all the family responsibility had been placed on her, meanwhile Mike got to coast along her coat tails. He was perpetually too young to be at fault for anything, so obviously the brunt of her parent’s wrath had to be placed on her.

She was the nice girl.

She would fall in line when needed.

And unlike her siblings, she was apparently old enough to understand the consequences of a bad reputation.

But she knew that it wasn’t just reputation that kept her in an elevated position of responsibility. She was the oldest daughter, of course everyone would be breathing down her neck to be the perfect little girl.

“-ncy?” Karen whispered, tapping the girl’s shoulder.

Nancy must’ve zoned out for the short walk across the driveway because she only now did she become aware of the splintered wooden door in front of her, the basket gone heavy in her hands.

She glanced back at Karen from the corner of her eyes, looking down as a taunt smile pulled against her cheeks. “Sorry- sorry… I was just… thinking. I’m fine”

Karen didn’t say anything, and Nancy didn’t want to look at her in fear of the same expression she’d worn since that night.

Disappointment.

Her mother knocked on the door, and Nancy waited with baited breath, as the lock clicked and the door opened.

Stood in a lose-fitting white t-shirt and pair of cut off jean shorts, was a girl. Her hand tightly gripped a can of Coke and her brows furrowed at the two stood on her doorstep.

This is going to be so awkward.

“Hi!” Karen chirped, the girl giving Nancy a once over before looking at her mom.

Nancy only felt slightly miffed at the fact that the look she’d given her mother was a lot less venomous than the one thrown her way.

Asshole.

[END OF PREVIEW]

Thank you so much for reading!! ❤️✨

Not sure for an exact date of posting considering current works are taking priority right now, but I was really excited to share this one!!

#lbl fic hints #ronance #robin buckley x nancy wheeler #ronance fic #the urge to rewrite the whole show with ronance grows daily

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