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tomtenadia · 4 years

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Island Dreams - Chapter 4

Double feature tonight! Here's chapter 4 as well. Last night I was inspired and I did managed to write a few chapters.

As usual... some Gaelic for you:

A bheil Gàidhlig agad - Do you speak Gaelic? mo charaid - my friend

Some of Elias' words seem funny, but he speaks Scots as well. And he is so damn sexy while doing it.

All the locations I mentioned they are real. Rowan's bookstore it's the only fictional place.

Happy reading!

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Aelin woke up quite late the next morning. After her fight with Rowan she had spent the day at the marina and wondered around the town. She had felt empty and could not bring herself to do anything. She finally managed to speak with Lysandra and cried. She cried her heart out and her friend had listened. Like she always did. She had gotten home later in the afternoon and felt exhausted. She spent the rest of the afternoon in the living room reading her books. That brought her joy at least, although dreaded going back to shop to collect the last book. She could not face him. Not yet. But that morning she had woken with a renewed motivation. She had prepared breakfast for herself and admitted she missed Maeve’s apple turnovers but could not risk going back there at the moment. She had to put some distance. So she ate her own breakfast, prepared a couple of sandwiches and got her backpack ready for the next adventure. Today she was driving south toward Harris. She had learned that Lewis and Harris were one big islands but Lewis was the Northern part, full of moors and peat land. Harris, was the Southern part, much rockier and with some stunning beaches and a famous road called the Golden road. Ten minutes later she was in the car and ready to go. She set her sat nav and she left. Over an hour later the sat nav announced one last turn to her final destination: Luskentyre beach. She had a look at some photos online and she could not believe such a gorgeous place existed.

She parked the car and opened the door and got out. No internet image had prepared her for the view in front of her. The beach was massive, the stretch of sand never ending and the sand was so white that it almost hurt the eyes. And the sea. It was the purest green mixed with blue that she had ever seen in her life. She was speechless. For ten solid minutes she leaned against the open door of her car and observed the stretch of paradise in front of her, incapable of doing anything else. Trying to burn in her memories the colours. She would take pictures but doubted they would ever do any justice. Finally she moved and grabbed her backpack, locked the car and walked to the beach. Once she reached the sand she removed the shoes. No way she was going to walk on that sand with her shoes on. The sun was up and the sand was warm at the touch and she let the feeling sooth her. Around her there were a few people walking dogs and couples walking hand in hand. A pang of sadness hit her, and absentmindedly she touched the spot where her wedding band should have been hating herself straight after, for missing Chaol. He made his choice. She had given him his freedom. Tears threatened to appear once again but she fought them back and resumed her walk along the beach. She followed the beach and walked in the water ignoring that it was cold. She walked for hours then she decided to sit and eat her lunch. Her sandwich was gross compared to Maeve’s and in her packed there definitely was no chocolate cake. She sighed. A young man was walking his dog and she noticed the animal coming her way. The man called him a few times, but a moment later the dog was at her feet, his tongue lolling from his mouth and was staring at her sandwich. Aelin laughed and gave him a bit and he ate eagerly. “I wouldn’t do it if I were you. You might never get rid of him.” The man was now in front of her and was scratching the dog ears. “It’s fine I was done eating anyway.” And she gave the rest of her lunch to the dog. She lifted her eyes and stared at the man. He was wearing shorts and a navy blue polo shirt. His hair was black as the night and his eyes a light blue edging on grey. Her breath caught and she felt herself blushing. “You are not a local.” He said as a matter of fact. “That obvious?” “Your accent. Definitely not from here.” His smile left her breathless. He had dimples. On both sides. He was quite cute. “Where do you bide?” Aelin looked at the man puzzled “Bide?” “Aye, where do you stay?” Understanding dawned on her. The word must have a different meaning in Scots “I am staying in Stornoway.” “Bonnie place. I live in Callanish. Ye, ken?” Aelin was stuck again. Was he even speaking English? So far all the other people had done their best to speak English with her. “Sorry, bad habit. I didn’t mean to be rude. I meant if you know Callanish.” The man sat beside her on the sand while the dog was running free on the beach. “Yes I was there a couple of days ago. I went to the standing stones. Such a fascinating place.” “I have one of the smaller circles just outside ma hoose.” He confessed turning his head to her “There are actually few more different sites scattered around the area. The main one at the visit centre is Callanish I.” He explained, then he extended his hand “I am Elias by the way. I have been yapping non stop and forgot to introduce myself.” “Aelin,” she said taking his hand. “Aelin…” her name on his tongue sounded perfection “In Gaelic means bright or shining one.” “So, are you a tourist? Visiting friends? Family? Boyfriend?” Aelin giggled “Status uncertain at the moment.” She said, then looked at Elias and explained a bit further “Tourist at the moment, but things might change.” “So, where are ye fae?” She guessed his question and she hoped she got it right “London.” She replied. “Been there for work a few times. I am an engineer and I have been down there for a few conventions.” Aelin was too busy listening at his sexy accent to pay attention to what he was saying and she felt embarrassed when she had to ask to repeat his answer. “Nae worries. I said I am an engineer and I was in London a few times for work.” “Cool what type?” The guy was fascinating and seemed much more willing to chat that a certain grumpy one back in town. “Environmental. I am working with Calmac at the moment. That’s the company that runs the ferry you used to get here if you travelled by sea.” He explained while the dog came back and licked his fingers quite happily. “I am a doctor. I was…. Still am… it’s complicated.” She cut short and noticed the confusion in his face. “Long boring story.” “What type?” “Cardio thoracic surgeon.” He whistled “bad ass woman. Love it.” His grin reached his eyes and she felt heat spread inside her. Definitely more than cute. And those dimples… She was having a good time but she had to keep going, she still had a few things to do. “I am enjoying the conversation but I still have quite a lot to cover.” She stood and turned to him. The main smiled “Of course. Care for some suggestions?” Aelin nodded. “If you are driving south, right after Borve there is another lovely beach. Stop there as well. Not as famous as Luskentyre but amazing as well. Then continue all the way down to Rodel. It’s the village at the end of the road. There is a lovely church called St. Clements. Worth visiting. Once you are past Rodel make your way back via the Golden road. It’s a very narrow road but it’s a pleasure to drive if you want an Hebridean adventure. Once you are almost at the top before Tarbert, make sure you stop in Drinisiader. There is a fascinating wee museum about Harris Tweed. But just hide your purse. They have some amazing stuff and you might want to buy the entire shop. Then you are in Tarbert and from there it’s an easy drive back to Stornoway.” “Tapadh Leat.” She said and Elias gave her a huge grin in response. “A bheil Gàidhlig agad?” He asked and she realised she had to stop trying to use Gaelic. “I just know thank you and good morning.” She explained almost embarrassed. “That’s okay, lass. I am not a native speaker either. I learnt it later on in life. My parents don’t actively speak it, but my gran did. It was the only way I had to communicate with her. My parents were parts of the generation that grew being taught that speaking Gaelic was not proper, so they never did. My mum understands it because of course her mother was a speaker. But she used her dad to translate. It’s a very long complicated story.” He stopped and looked at her. “Looks like we both have a complicated story to tell each other.” Aelin’s stomach fluttered in excitement. He grabbed his wallet and removed a business card from it. “Sorry for being so direct, but you seem quite an interesting person. Call me or message me if you need a guide.” He held the card to her and Aelin debated for a moment whether to take it or not. Lysandra had told her to go to Scotland, enjoy herself and get a Scottish man in the process and forget her ex husband. She took the card “I’ll call you.” “Do it, mo charaid.” She smiled warmly, grabbed her backpack “It was nice meeting you, Elias.”

She was driving along the Golden road and she had to admit that the road was a real adventure. Large enough for a small car to pass, she had to constantly focus on the road to avoid ending in a ditch or in a loch beside the road. But no matter the stress, she was loving it. Until the sheep arrived. One moment she was alone on the road. The next moment she was surrounded by sheep. A massive flock stretched for some length along the road. She got off the car, she took a picture and sent it to Lysandra with the caption traffic jam in the Hebrides. A moment later the phone rang. “Are you kidding me?” “No Lys, I swear I am surrounded by sheep. They are everywhere and I can’t go anywhere. Guess someone will come and collect them soon.” She heard Lysandra laugh “Sounds like you are having a great time.” “I am.” she confessed not entirely convinced. The memory of the fight with Rowan still stung and she was wracking her brain to find a way to fix things with him. She was… intrigued by him. He was brooding, infuriating and handsome at the same time. Plus he was the owner of a bookstore which was not bad. She wanted to be his friend but it looked like he was not interested. He had made that abundantly clear. Nothing I want to give you. Tears threatened to appear once again but she fought, not willing to let sadness spoil such a lovely day. So she had decided to put some distance. She would go to get her book when it arrived and then limit her visits to his shop, for as much as it pained her. He didn’t want to have anything to do with her. Well, she was granting him his wish. “How is going with Aedion?” She changed the subject. “Well, we have only been on a date but he’s great.” “Already planning your wedding?” Aelin joked and Lysandra laughed in reply. “Nah, just imagining having sex with him for now.” “Eew. I didn’t need to know that” “Seriously… the man has amazing hands and I spent the evening thinking what he can do with them. And if all the other parts are just as big as the rest of the body…” “Eewww. Ewwww and eeeeew.” “Since when you are such a prude?” Aelin laughed she wasn’t but she had no interest in listening her best friend talk about her boyfriend’s body parts. “Get a move on finding a man of your own and then you can fantasise about his body parts.” For a brief moment Aelin’s mind thought about Rowan’s hands and… No, stop. She could not go there. That was dangerous territory. “We’ll see.” Was all that she added. “I need you to come back to me happy.” “What if…” she paused for a second “what if I am not coming back?” “What do you mean?” In the distance Aelin noticed a tractor and the sheep began moving again. “Sheep are moving. Gotta go back home.” “Ok. Keep me posted.” She say bye to Lys and she was positive she felt a note of sadness in her friend’s voice.

The sheep finally moved and she spent the journey home mulling over what she had said to Lys. She could not see herself going back to London. Something had broken inside her. Maybe it was her that was broken. With her skills and experience she could easily find another job in another hospital. So why the rejection from one place hurt so much? And Chaol… London was a very big place, the chances of her bumping into him on the streets were minimal. However, they had loads of friends in common. She would have to give up her friends to avoid him. Give up her gym, her favourite bookstore and cafe, because he was a regular in those places too. She would have to give up her life to avoid him and the pain that seeing again would bring. She had felt relieved after the divorce. She still had no regrets. But forgetting almost a decade together was proving more difficult than she expected. She pushed on the breaks quite hard, forced the door open and run to the field near the road. And then she collapsed on her knees and screamed, letting out all the frustration festering in her. Her hands began shaking and she felt the symptoms of a panic attack starting to manifest. Breathing was getting harder. So Aelin stayed in the filed, and cried and shook. Until she had no more tears left in her.

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aedion x lysandra #lysandra #fluff #angst #throne of glass series #fanfic

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noladyme · 4 years

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The Crown Princess of Charming - part 16

Welcome to Charming - its name says it all. Cat needed a fresh start; and though she hadn’t planned on that being in the arms of the crown prince of this little town’s bikerclub - that was what happened. Charming CA would either be the death of her - or a whole new life.

Rated M

Thank you all who have been reading. I hope you’ll enjoy the final chapter of this story.

Tags @wonderlandfandomkingdom @edonaspanca

A year is a long time, when you’re spending every second of every day, missing someone so bad your heart is in physical pain.

The first week after Jax turned himself in, Gemma took turns with Lyla – sleeping in the nursery with Abel – so I wouldn’t be alone in the house. I never cried in front of them – only when I was alone in our bed; holding on to Jacksons pillow.

The morning of the 8’th day; Gemma woke me up, and handed me her phone. “You’re gonna want to take this call, sweetheart”, she smiled; and left the room.

“Hello?”, I croaked. “Cat… it’s me”. “Jax?”, I whimpered. “How… are you ok?”. “I’m good, baby”. He sighed. “It’s so good to hear you voice… are you ok? Gemma said…”. “I’m sorry, Jackson… I promised I’d be ok… I miss you so much it hurts”. “I miss you too, darlin’”, he breathed. “Look, I only got a few minutes to talk… Are you wearing the ring?”. I looked down at my hand. “Never take it of”, I said. “Good… Cat, listen. I know it’s hard… But I need you to be strong for me, ok? Be strong for our boy… It burns a goddamn hole in my heart, that I can’t be there to hold you”. “I’m sorry…”. “Don’t be. It’s ok. I understand… I feel it too”. “Ok…”. “Ok?”. “Yes…”. I took a deep breath. “51 weeks left”. “I’ll be there. It’ll be like I never went away…”. “Can I come see you?”, I asked. “I can get visitation in a month. I’ll let you know”. “I love you”. “I love you too”. I could hear his smile in his voice. “Get up, baby… Dance for me. Ok?”. “I will”, I smiled. Someone was calling out for him. “My minutes are up… I love you, Cat. I lov…”. The call ended.

I sat up in bed; and put my feet on the floor. Dance for me. I had to.

I went into the kitchen; and handed Gemma her phone. Abel was in his high chair; and I picked him up – kissing the top of his head. “I’m sorry, baby boy… Momma Cat’s back now”. Gemma smiled at me. “I was gonna take him with me for groceries…”.

I put the baby back in his chair; and walked over to her – hugging her tightly. “I’m sorry, Gemma…”, I said. “I’m back”. She kissed my forehead. “I knew you’d be”, she whispered.

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About a month later I was seated by a metal table; in a large cold room. All around me, men and women we’re talking quietly to each other – the men all in light blue pants and shirts. Spread throughout the room were uniformed men, with hard expressions on their faces. Every time the door opened, I jumped in my seat; hoping to see the man who’s absence had keft a gaping whole in my life.

The wait felt like forever – but suddenly the door opened – and a blonde, blue-eyed face grinned at me from the entrance. My breath hitched, and happy tears filled my eyes; when Jackson rushed over to pull me into his arms; planting his soft lips on mine. “Teller! No touching!”. A guard stepped towards us. “Yeah, I know. Just…”. He looked over his shoulder at the man, and let go of me.

We sat down next to each other – our fingers linking under the table. “God, I missed you!”, Jax grinned. “I missed you too”, I smiled. “Are you ok?”. He nodded. “I’m good. The guys are all good… Happy has to pretend to be Juice’s sugar daddy – but otherwise our asses are all in the clear”. I laughed. “Hey! Keep it down”, the guard growled. “Sorry”, Jax said, and looked into my eyes. “He’s a bit on edge… we better watch it”. “Have you had any trouble?... You sentence…”, I whispered. “No, we’re all on our best behavior”, Jax smiled. “We’re not risking doing all 3 years”. “Good”, I said.

“How’s our boy?”, Jax asked, furrowing his brow. I smiled brightly. “Growing… 7 teeth. He decided to let two grow at once”, I said. “Shit… you can’t have gotten much sleep”, Jax grinned. “I’m fine… we’re both fine”.

We stared at each other for a moment; both unsure what to say. “I wish I could kiss you…”, Jax whispered. I bit my lip. “No, darlin’. Please don’t do that. My hand is already callused, from thinking about those lips”. I had to stifle a laugh. “I’ll keep them nice and warm for you”. Jax grimaced, and groaned. “Shit, you’re so beautiful”. “And you still have a nice ass”, I smirked.

The guard came over. “Teller. 10 minutes are up. Let’s go”. Jax frowned. “Can I kiss my girl goodbye?”. The guard looked at me with hard eyes. “Hurry up”. Jax’s hands went to either side of my face; and he pressed his lips to mine again – for a second letting his tongue meet mine. “Ok, that’s enough. Wrap it up”, the guard said.

“I love you, Cat”, Jax breathed. “I love you, Jackson”, I replied.

The guard grabbed my old man’s arm; and led him out of the room. It would be another month before I could see him again.

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The next two months went by slowly. I’d only been able to see Jax once; because Clay needed to use his visitation rights for club business. Jackson called me once a week, for a few minutes – making it difficult to share more than a few sweet words, and keeping Jax up to date on how Abel was doing.

We celebrated the baby’s first birthday at Gemma and Clay’s house. That was also the day, Abel decided to take his first steps, without holding on to anything. It was a bittersweet moment; to see our boy walking three steps; and then falling to his butt with a happy squeak – knowing that his dad should have been there to share the experience with the rest of us. Gemma squeezed my hand gently, before walking over to pick up her grandson, and kiss his chubby cheeks.

That night, I broke my promise to be strong – and let my tears fall into Jacksons pillow again.

Ray called me shortly after the birthday party. He wanted me back at the school; and apologized profusely for not having called sooner. I agreed to take on the arts position; along with 7’th grade English – wanting to have time to be a parent to Abel.

After settling in at work, I began dancing again, as well. In one of our short phone-calls; I was ecstatic to tell Jax how I’d managed to rent a small space in town; where I taught women the art of keeping them waiting, two nights a week. One of my students was Lyla – who in turn taught me how to use a pole, and her secrets in the arts of caffeine. “It’s perfect, baby! Gemma takes Abel the night’s I’m teaching. The space needed a fresh coat of paint; but I had the guys help me out”. “It sounds good, darlin’. I can’t wait to see it”, he said happily. “How’s my boy?”. “Walking around the house faster than I can catch him… and refusing to wear pants”. “That’s my boy!”, Jax chuckled.

After a recommendation letter from Wendy’s rehab, Jax agreed to let her have monthly visitations with the toddler – as long as I or Gemma was there to supervise. Gemma couldn’t promise not to punch the bitch in her stupid face; so I took on the visitations with Abels birth-mother. Wendy was kind. She was trying to turn her life around – and though it was difficult for her, to see another woman taking on the role as parent to her son – we grew friendly. I even began to look forward to her visits.

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Six months and three visits, in to Jax’s sentencing; I was running down the hallway of the house – trying to catch Abel. “Pants, Teller!”, I yelled after the squealing toddler. Once I’d finally caught him; and wrestled him into a pair of blue pants – I placed him in his high chair, to get him some lunch.

The door knocked; and Chibs and Opie stepped inside. Their faces were both white. “Hey, guys”, I smiled. “Breakfast?”. Chibs swallowed hard. “You’re gonna want to sit down, luv’”, he said. I went cold. “What happened?”, I said. Abel began fussing in his chair; and Opie picked him up; kissing the top of his head. “Opie?”, I whimpered.

Chibs took my hand; and pulled me over to a kitchen chair – coaxing me to sit down. He pulled out another chair, and sat down to face me. “Cat… Jackson was stabbed”. I let out a desperate gasp; finding it hard to get air back into my lungs. “He’s alive, luv’… they’re working on him right now”. “No…”, I whimpered. “No, he’s not…”. I began sobbing. Chibs pulled me into his arms; and stroked my back. “Breathe, Cat. Don’t black out on me”, he muttered. “He has to come back… we said…”. My whole world crumbled.

Opie handed Abel to Chibs; and pulled me up to stand – a hand on each of my shoulders. He looked deep into my eyes. “Jax is strong, Cat. He’ll come back from this”, he said. “But he needs you now. Abel needs you”. I looked at the whimpering boy in Chibs’ arms. He was reaching for me, and I took him from the scot. “I’m here, baby… I’m here”. I looked at Opie. “Gemma?”. “She knows”, he said. “She’s at TM. We can take you right away”.

We drove to the clubhouse, where the rest of Samcro was waiting. Gemma’s eyes were full of tears; and we embraced – Abel between us. The whole day, we waited for a call from the state penitentiary, to let us know what was going on. Clay finally got Tig on a prepaid. Jax was alive, but in critical condition. Some pissed off Russians had – for some reason – decided that Samcro needed to learn a lesson on humility; and had tried to take out the VP. Tig couldn’t tell us much more, and had to give the phone back to the person he’d paid to borrow it.

We waited at the clubhouse the rest of the night. I slept restlessly in the dorm – Abel cradled in my arms. Calling in sick to work, the next day – Monday – I told the office I’d be out for a week. I decided not to fall apart. Our boy needed me. He didn’t understand why momma Cat was sad, and it wasn’t his fault. I did my best to smile every time he reached for me.

Around noon, state pen called. As I wasn’t married to Jax yet, Gemma was next of kin; so she was the one recieving the information we’d all hoped for. Jax was alive and kicking. Literally. After waking up from surgery; he’d kicked a doctor in the face, thinking he was under attack. The doc had been kind enough, not to report him officially – but was nursing a black eye.

The news made the whole room erupt into cheers – and Gemma and I held on to each other for a good two minutes afterwards – crying in joy.

Jax was well enough to call us himself the next morning. I’d slept Gemma and Clay’s, and the call went there. After a few minutes on the phone; Clay handed it to me. “Hey, darlin’”, Jackson croaked. “Jax? Are you ok? How do you feel?”, I whimpered. “Shanked”, he chuckled, before whispering an Ow. “I’m alive, baby. I’m ok”. “Thank god…”, I breathed. “You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?”, he said. “Not funny… I was scared to death”. “Yeah, well; I was almost stabbed to death – so that should make us even”, he said. Once again, I could hear his smile in his voice. “I’ll be back in gen pop in a little over a week”. I frowned. “Is that safe? What if they go for you again?”. “I’ll be fine… Clay has something set up”, he muttered.

I looked at Clay, who was on his burner – talking to someone.

“Babe, I have to go. The doc is back”. “Ok. I love you”. “I love you, Cat. I’ll call when I can”. He hung up.

The russians decided not to make anymore attempts on any of the incarcerated Samcro-men. Apparently, someone named Otto - who had trouble seeing, due to his eyes being almost carved out - had tripped, and landed on one of their own; as he was holding a sharpened screwdriver.

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9 months in, I was getting frustrated. I’d only seen Jax once since he was stabbed – and honestly; being a single mom was taking a toll on me. Samcro was on a “blooddrive” up north – transporting whatever it was they were transporting these days. Only Rat and Piney where left in Charming.

One night; after I’d left dance class – which Lyla had not attended that night – I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize. Thinking there might be a chance Jax gotten a hold of a prepaid – I picked up. “Hello?”. “Hey, it’s Ima”. “Hi… why are you calling”, I said. “It’s nice to hear your voice too”, she sneered. “What do you want?”. If you say “your man”, I’m gonna track you down, and burst both of those implants. “Lyla needs your help. I can’t get a hold of Opie”, she muttered. “What happened?”, I asked. “Can you just get down to the studio? Please? She’s asking for you specifically”. “Fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can”. I didn’t say goodbye – just hung up.

Gemma had Abel for the night; so I was free to go see what was wrong with my friend. Ima met me outside the large building that housed Cara Cara. “She’s inside… freaking out”, the blonde muttered, and showed me the way into the building. “What happened?”, I asked. “She took something…”, Ima said.

Ima walked me past a setup that resembled a doctor’s office; where all instruments where replaced with dildos and buttplugs. A pretty girl – who I recognized as broken nosed porn-star, from the lockdown months earlier – waved smilingly at me. It was then I realized, that the barely-there outfit she was wearing, was supposed to be a nurse’s uniform. “Hey Ima! Get your lazy ass back on set”, a bored looking man with a camera said. “Chill out, Dondo”, she said. “And get Lyla! She was supposed to be ready an hour ago”.

Ima led me to a door, adorned with a star. Inside, Lyla was curled up on the floor, sobbing and shaking. I fell to my knees in front of my friend. “Lyla! Sweetie, what happened?”, I said. “I’m sick…”, she cried.

There was an empty pill bottle on the floor next to her. “What did she take?”, I asked Ima. The porn-star shrugged. “Some uppers… I think”. I frowned at her; and began stroking Lyla’s hair. “Honey, come on. Sit up”. I pulled her up into a seated position. “How much did you take?”. “Two…”, Lyla croaked. Her pupils were blown.

“We need to get her to a hospital…”, I said, putting my friend’s arm over my shoulder – trying to get her to stand up. “No…!”, Lyla whimpered. “I’ve been clean so long… they’ll take away Piper”. “Shit…”, I muttered. “Where are the kids?”. “Piney… cabin”. I nodded. “Ok. Help me get her to my car”. Ima rolled her eyes, and put her arm around Lyla’s waist; and we walked her out of the room.

The guy with the camera saw us, and frowned. “What the shit, Lyla… What did you do? We got a movie to finish”. “She’s not shooting tonight”, I snarled, as we moved towards the exit. He walked towards us. “And who the hell are you?”, he growled. Miss nose-not-broken-anymore came over and grabbed his arm. “That’s Jax Tellers old lady”. The mans face went white. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Of course. Let me help”. He stepped over to us; and picked up Lyla in his arms. “Get her to my car”, I said.

Ima followed us outside. “She said she had a headache… I just thought she was faking it to get out of shooting”. I narrowed my eyes at her. “What did you do, Ima?”, I hissed. She rolled her eyes again. “Roll your eyes one more time, bitch…”, I warned. “What did you do?”.

Ima sighed. “I gave her a couple of pills. Told her they were advils, so she’d take them”. “You drugged her?”, I growled. Dondo managed to open the door to the back seat of my car; and deposited Lyla there. “They were just uppers… thought they would get her in a better mood”. I drew my lips back in a snarl. “Dondo. Movie’s dead. Pay the girl inside”. “What about my money?”, Ima asked. “Find a corner, skank!”, I roared at her; and got behind the wheel to drive away.

I took Lyla to my house; helping her into mine and Jackson’s bed. She was shaking and crying. I frantically called every number I had to the men on the blood drive – trying to get a hold of Opie. No luck. I spent the night stroking Lyla’s cheek, and holding her hair, when she threw up. In the morning, she finally fell asleep. I called Piney to let him know he needed to keep the kids for at least another day; and Gemma, to ask her to keep Abel.

Opie called me back around noon. Once I’d explained the situation, he promised to head back as soon as possible. Lyla was out cold for most of the day. In the afternoon, she woke up; and I helped her into the shower. Afterwards, I wrapped her up in my robe; and fed her toast and coffee. Opie arrived in the evening; and she fell crying into his arms. I left them alone in the living room, and went into the kitchen.

A little while later, Opie joined me. “She’s sleeping again”, he muttered. “Thanks…”. “Of course, Ope… you did the same for me”. A smile ghosted his face. “Ima did this?”, he asked. I frowned. “She’s a bitch… but she wasn’t trying to hurt her. At least I think she wasn’t”. I sighed. “Don’t hurt her, Ope… she’s just a sad, stupid woman, who doesn’t know better”.

Opie looked down. “Can Lyla stay here tonight again?”. “Sure. You both can”, I smiled. “Take the pullout in Abel’s room”. He hesitated for a second, before walking over to give me a slight hug. “I get it… why Jax loves you”, he said. I blushed.

After getting the couch in the nursery ready; Opie carried his fiancée into the room; and tucked her in. We shared a smoke; and both turned in for the night. The next day, Opie took Lyla home.

Jax called in the evening. “I heard about Lyla…”, he said. “How?”. “Opie called pen. Said she was my sister, and that I should be told about what happened”. “Why?”, I asked. “Guess he wanted me to know how amazing my old lady is…”, Jackson muttered. “I’m pretty awesome”, I joked. “You really are”.

---

A year. 12 months.

I’d lived. Danced. Been a momma. And I’d missed Jackson so fiercely, I felt it in my bones. This was the day.

Abel was seated with me on the tabletop of the picnic-table, where I’d first kissed his father. “Daddy”, he chuckled. “Yeah, daddy’s coming home, baby”, I smiled. “Bike”. “Yup, he’s coming in on his bike, in just a few minutes”.

A roar of engines sounded from the street, and our boy made sputtering sounds with his lips, to join in on the sound. Gemma walked out onto the middle of the lot; shielding her eyes from the sun. Bikes came driving in, Clay leading the group. He got off, and went to kiss his wife – before looking towards me and Abel with a big smile on his face.

I closed my eyes; and listened. I recognized the sound of Jax’s bike. For some reason, it was separate from the others. More cheerful. Opening my eyes again, I saw him driving into the lot, surrounded by the three men who’d been with him on the inside.

My heart skipped a beat; and I stood up on the seat of the table.

Jax drove all the way up to the front of the clubhouse; and halted – killing the engine. He got off his bike; and looked at me for a second; before running over – letting me falls into his arms. I straddled his waist; and held his face between my hands – looking into his bright blue eyes. His hair was cropped short, and his smile was brighter than the sun, but I had only a second to enjoy the beauty of the man I was looking at; before he put his lips to mine, in a passionate kiss. All around us, people were clapping and cheering for the returning heroes – but all I could focus on in the moment, was the man I loved; in my arms again.

“Hey, darlin’”, Jackson smiled against my lips. “Hi… you’re back”, I almost sobbed. “I am”, he said. “I’m here. It’s over”. I chuckled in glee. “I love you”, I said, and kissed his lips again. “I love you too, Cat”. “Are you going to put me down?”, I grinned. Jax shook his head, and squeezed my bottom. “Not in a million years”. “You mom might have a problem with that. She wants to hug you”.

Jax sighed, and set me down on the ground gently – pecking my lips one last time; before his mother attacked him with a hug. “I’m home, mom. I’m good”. I turned around, and helped Abel down from the table. Jax looked towards us. “I didn’t know you were bringing him”, he muttered, his eyes filling with tears. “Of course we did, baby”, Gemma smiled.

“Go say hi to daddy”, I whispered to our boy; and the toddler did a waddling run towards Jackson, who crouched down, and caught his son in a loving embrace. “Daddy!”, Abel squealed. “Yeah, I’m home, little man”, Jax croaked. “You’re so big!”. He kissed Abel’s cheek – who wiped it instantly – and picked him up from the ground; walking over to put his arm around me as well. “Thank you…”, he whispered into my ear. “Thank you, Cat”. I smiled, and kissed the top of Abel’s head. “No!”, Abel grimaced. “Ok, baby”, I sighed with a grin. I turned my head to kiss Jax instead.

“Yo, princess!”, Happy called out. “Don’t we get any hugs?”. I tore myself from Jacksons arms; and ran over to jump into his embrace. The big guy lifted me of the ground, and swung me around. I followed up with Juice and Tig – Tig flipping me backwards, and planting a wet one on my lips. “Tig! Hands of my girl, shitstain!”, Jax barked. “Sorry, brother”, Tig grinned. “Haven’t touched a woman in a year”. “We got some waiting inside for you, brother”, Chibs smiled, and pulled his friend into the clubhouse; where drinks, women and food were waiting.

Jax set down Abel, who went to climb into his grandmother’s arms. He walked over to me, and kissed me again. “Shit, I missed your face”, he grinned. “Just my face?”, I smiled. He raised a brow at me. “There are a few other parts of you I’m hoping to get my hands on, once we’re alone”, he smirked, and slid a hand down to grope my bottom.

He was home.

---

We celebrated the homecoming in Samcro style – with alcohol a plenty, and a pair of pretty girls for each of the former inmates – save Jax, who had a hand on either my waist, my butt or my shoulder the whole time. The only times he wasn’t touching me, was when he was playing with Abel, or changing him. “Shit, kid… we need to get you potty trained!”, he laughed; after the toddler had delivered an especially putrid gift in his diaper. “Good luck, daddy. He’s terrified of toilets”, I grinned from the doorway to the dorm. Jax frowned. “Why?”. “He went into the bathroom here; after Piney had been there”, I sniggered. Jax took Abel into his arms. “Then, I don’t blame you, little man”. He kissed Abel’s cheek.

“No!”, the toddler squealed; and slapped his father over the nose. Jax was guffawed. “He’s at a no kissing stage”, I grinned. “Well, he doesn’t take after his old man”, Jax said, and winked at me. I came over to pack up the diaper bag for him. “Or me…”, I said – not sure whether to continue the conversation.

Jax cleared his throat. “How’s Wendy?”, he asked quietly. “She’s good”, I muttered. “She split up with her girlfriend”. Jackson’s expression darkened. “She stumble?”, he said, clenching his jaw. I smiled and shook my head. “No, she’s been doing really well, Jax”, I said. I looked down at the floor. “She… offered sit for us, for the wedding”. Abel was reaching for me; and Jackson handed him over. “Neeta can’t do it?”, Jax grumbled. “Yes, she can… she could be there as well”. I took his hand. “She’s not going to be alone with him… and I trust her”.

Jackson looked at me for a moment; before his eyes grew warm. “Call her. Tell her she can be there, if Neeta is”. I kissed the corner of his lips. “This is right, Jackson”, I whispered. He smiled slightly, and nodded.

Out in the bar area; the party was going into high gear. When Abel suddenly pointed at a redheaded girl in Juice’s lap, and exclaimed Boobies!, we decided to take our leave. Outside, Chibs, Opie and Lyla where standing – laughing at a story Chibs was telling them. “I’m telling you, Fiona refused to wear a ring. I’m not your property, Filip. Free Scotland – free Fiona!”, he chuckled. “God, I miss her sour face”.

“We’re taking off”, Jax said. Lyla ran over to hug us both; planting a lipstick mark on Jax’s cheek. “I’m so happy we waited. Opie really wanted you next to him tomorrow”. “Of course, sweetheart”, Jax smiled. “We’ll see you there”. He went over to hug Opie and Chibs; taking them both in his arms at once. “I’ll never forget what you did for my family this year”, I heard him mutter. “She’s a strong lass, Jackie”, Chibs said, and looked towards me. I smiled warmly at him. “Any time, man”, Opie said.

I went over to strap Abel in, in the back of my car, and Jax went to get on his bike. We drove home, Jackson constantly within view of my back mirror.

---

Once in the house, Jax went to tuck in Abel in his room. I slipped into the bedroom, to make two minor alterations to my outfit. Closing the buttons of my summer dress again, I went into the kitchen, to start the dishwasher.

“The wall…”. Jax was standing in the doorway, with a soft smile on his lips. “It looks great”. “It was just something to keep me busy”, I blushed. I’d finished the mural of the nursery wall a few months before. The motorcycle on it was a copy of John Tellers – which was to this day displayed in the Samcro clubhouse. “Well, it’s beautiful, babe… thanks”. I smiled softly, feeling strangely embarrassed.

There was a strange silence in the room. It was the first time in just over a year, we’d been alone together. I cleared my throat. “I’m, uh… I have the rings for tomorrow. You just have to put them…”.

Jax stormed towards me; and threw his arms around me. His lips were on mine; greedily kissing me. “Jax…”, I panted; pulling my face away. “Air!”. He grinned at me; and suddenly I was over his shoulder – his hand meeting my bottom in a soft clap. I giggled, as he walked me into the bedroom, and put me down on the floor – once again attacking me with kisses.

I pushed his cut of his shoulders; and he went for the buttons on my dress – almost tearing them off. “Slow down Jackson”, I giggled. “I like this dress”. “A year, doll”, he grinned. “I’d like it better on the floor”. I shrugged the garment off, pulling it down my body – leaving me in a bra and panties – as Jax shed his shirt and t-shirt.

I stopped, and looked down his torso. On the right side of his torso were three white scars, I’d not seen before. I ran my fingers over them. Jackson grabbed my hand, and kissed my fingertips. “I’m ok, Cat”, he smiled. I swallowed hard. “I thought…”. He pulled me close to his naked chest. “I know… me too. But I’m here”. He kissed the top of my head.

I looked up, and met his lips again. Warmth spread from my core, all the way through my limbs. Hooking my fingers into his belt, I smirked. “Pants, Teller”. “Yes, ma’am”, he grinned; and opened his belt and jeans; pulling them down. I bit my lip in glee, looking at the straining fabric on his boxers. Jax looked down himself. “Yeah… he’s been a little lonely lately”, he smiled embarrassedly. I reached over, and gave his member a gentle squeeze through the fabric - making Jax gasp, and send me a menacing grin.

He ran a finger over the top of my breasts; meeting the lace of my bra. “Take it of”, he said. I tilted my head. “I thought you’d want to do that”. Jax’s eyes lit up, and I braced myself for what was coming up.

With shaky hands, my old man reached under my arms, and behind me – opening my bra, and pulling it off me. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. “Holy shit!”, he gasped. I grinned, and looked down at the tassels adorning my nipples; before meeting his eyes again. “I thought I’d give you a welcome home present”.

Jax dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed. He ran a hand over his face; before holding it out, as if he was admiring a work of art. “This… darlin’, you are the most…”. A smile, wider than any one I’d ever seen from him; spread over his face. “Did… could you…?”. I rolled my eyes, and bounced my body up and down for a second. The movement made the tassels spin around slightly. “Happy?”, I smirked. Jac lifted a brow at me. “Panties; off! Foreplay is over”.

He ripped my underwear down my legs; and with an arm around my waist, he threw me on the bed. His boxers disappeared quickly; and he began kissing the area around my nipples with a fervor. Moving his lips north, he licked over the sweet spot on my neck. “I want you – on top – making those tassels twirl!”, he growled into my ear. “Yes, sir”, I whimpered. He slid his hand down my belly; finding my folds; and sliding a finger inside me. I closed my eyes, and mewled. “You ready?”, he asked. I nodded.

Jax laid back on the bed; and I sat up to straddle him. Looking down on his wanton hardness; I took a deep breath; and began lowering myself onto it. Every inch that entered me, was heaven. Jacksons hands were on my hips – his fingers digging in to my skin. A desperate look in his eyes; he groaned. “Tighter…”, he gasped. “Bigger”, I panted. He grinned; and I began moving.

I put my hands on my head – making my breasts perk – and Jackson laughed, as I moved my body to make the tassels twirl. For a while I danced on top of my old man – moving my hips so that his penis thrusted in and out of me. I clenched my walls, and bit my lips. “Cat… please”, Jax pleaded. I did it again. “Holy sh…”, he almost roared. “Better than that calloused hand?”, I panted. “You don’t even know…”, he whimpered. “Show me”, I said.

Jax twisted his body; so that I fell to the mattress – his penis still inside me. He began thrusting rhythmically; and kissed me. Our tongues met and battled for dominance. “Pancakes again”, Jax smiled, when he came up for air. I rolled my hips upwards, to get him to hit my sweet spot inside. Jax caught on, and linked his arm under my knee – pushing into me hard, with a desperate groan. Before long I was feeling the warm sensation of an approaching orgasm. “Take me with you, baby”, Jax almost whimpered – and his words sent me over the edge.

I cried out; and came – my violent orgasm pulling Jackson into his own. He thrusted into me a few more times; trying desperately to prolong the sensation for us both. I was almost sobbing from the extreme jolts moving through my body; and I scratched my nails across his back. Jax let out a last hoarse groan, before – with a final thrust – he let himself go, and collapsed on top of me.

I held him in my arms, and kissed his temple. We were both panting, and had large smiles on our faces. “I love you”, I said. “I love you so much…”, he replied, and softly kissed my lips; before pulling out of me, and laying down next to me. Pulling me into his grasp, it was as if he thought I would disappear if he let go of me. “I’m here, baby”, I whispered. He smiled.

I looked down at my breasts. “Can I take them off now?”, I smiled. Jax grinned, and tore the patches off my nipples for me. “Ow!”, I yelped, as the adhesive pulled at my tender skin. “Sorry”, Jackson grimaced; and sucked gently at each of my nipples – sending another jolt through my core. He let out a slight chuckle, and put his arm over my belly; holding on to me.

“Thank you…”, he muttered. “This year… I only made it, because I knew you were outside, waiting for me”. “You had Abel”, I blushed. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t be able to be the father he deserves, without you”. I smirked. “If I’m so great, why don’t you marry me?”, I said.

Jax took my left hand, and kissed the crow on my finger. “I plan to”.

---

And he did.

Opie and Lyla got married the day after Jax had returned. He and I stood beside each of our best friends, as the two of them exchanged vows – all the while, sending each other knowing looks and smiles.

Six months later, Jax stepped in to the bedroom where I was getting dressed. “You know, we forgot about the part where the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride before the wedding”, I smiled – struggling to close the zipper on the back of my knee-length, off-white dress, with a red lace overlay. “Well, we’ve already broken every rule in the book, doll”, Jax chuckled; and stepped behind me, to help. His finger brushed down my spine, before pulling up the zipper. “You’re telling me! Your mom is pissed, I’m not wearing white”, I muttered. “You still can…”. “It didn’t feel right”, I said. “And I like this dress”. “Me too”, Jax whispered; and ran his hands over my breasts. My neckline wasn’t plunging – but it was deep enough to reveal a good bit of my cleavage. “Jax, we’ll be late…”, I whispered. He kissed my neck, and pressed against me. “Come on, darlin’”, he said. “Gemma already picked up the kid… We got a few minutes”. I laughed. “Since when did you only take a few minutes?”. “I’ll take that as a compliment”, he smiled.

Jax sat down on the bed in front of me, and put his hands on my slightly swollen belly. “How are you doing, baby girl?”, he whispered at my tummy. “She’s good”, I smiled, and stroked his cheek. “Don’t kick your mom too much today. She already has to pee every 30 minutes…”, Jackson grinned. I yanked slightly at his beard, and scowled at him. “Go finish up, Teller”, I chided. He looked at me questioningly. “You sure about the flannel?”, he asked. “Absolutely”, I smiled, and bent down to kiss him.

Jax slipped away to get his blue flannel from the dryer, and I finished getting ready – putting on some red lipstick. I looked at my smiling face in the mirror. “Let’s do this”.

---

A large group of motorcycles were parked on each side of the TM lot – making almost and aisle for us, as Jax and I came riding in. Cheers erupted all around, as suited and leather-clad people saw us arriving.

Jax stopped his bike, and I gingerly got off it – Jax holding my hand to support me. My center of gravity wasn’t the best these days. After he’d parked his bike, I took Jacksons hand, and we went over to greet Clay and Gemma – who was holding Abel’s hand. “Momma Cat’s pretty!”, our boy exclaimed. Gemma looked me over. “Ok, I surrender. You’re beautiful”, she smiled. I hugged her tightly, and let Clay kiss my cheek. “Looking good, teach’”, the president said. “Thank you”, I smiled.

Jax pulled at my hand. “We have out of town guests”, he smiled. I turned around, and saw the grinning face of Mike, and his guys from Chicago. I stepped over, and gave him a warm hug. “Hey there, miss Rose!”, he said. “Not much longer”, Jax said, and hugged his Chicago brother. “We talked about that”, I said with a chuckle. Jackson rolled his eyes. “Rose-Teller. Whatever”, he said. “Let’s just get married”.

We walked into the clubhouse; Gemma and Clay at our heels – and Abel sitting on his father’s hip. Inside stood friends and family, and all of our brothers from Samcro. They cheered and whooped, as Jax pulled me in for a slight kiss. “Hands off, Jackie! You’re not married yet”, Chibs barked. “Does that mean the rest of us still got a shot?”, Juice grinned. Jax smiled at him menacingly. “Funny, man. Keep it up”.

I stroked Jax’s cheek. “You know what…?”, I said. “Let me have at ‘em, while I’m still a free woman”. Jackson looked at me with narrowed his eyes. I patted his butt, and moved towards to the group of bikers. Behind me, Jax set Abel down on the floor. “Any of your uncles get to handsy with momma Cat, kick their asses”, Jackson muttered to his son.

Waving at people to move back, I smiled brightly. “Move back people. Pregnant lady coming through!”. People stepped away to give me space. “Line up, boys”, I grinned.

The entire crew of The Sons of Anarchy, Redwood originals; lined up in a row – and I went from biker to biker – planting a soft kiss on each of their lips. Opie grinned; Rat and Phil – who’d both finally patched in – blushed; Clay, Bobby and Piney smiled; Happy let out a silent oh yeah; Tig licked his lips, once I was finished with him – and once I got to Juice, he slipped an arm around me; holding on just a little longer than I had planned. A tiny foot kicked his shin. “No touching!”, Abel yelled; and Juice grinned – ending the kiss, and letting me go.

Lyla came over with a beautiful little bouquet of red roses; and a crown to match. She put the flower wreath on my head; and kissed my cheek. “You ready?”, she whispered. I nodded.

Someone opened the door to the chapel, where a flower arrangement with a reaper cutout was displayed on the table. “I charge by the hour, people!”, Lowen cried out, and stepped up to stand in the doorway. I was happy the club lawyer was also a registered officiant. It didn’t feel right to have anyone else wed us. Abel went over to hold Gemma’s hand; and Opie and Lyla stood on either side of the door, as best man, and matron of honor.

Jackson came over and took my hands. “Last chance to run, darlin’”, he said earnestly. “I wouldn’t get far before I had to stop to pee”, I smiled. “Besides… There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be, than here”. My old man gave me his trademark smirk. “Let’s get married”.

Hand in hand, we walked over to stand in front of our officiant. “Who gives this woman to be wed?”, Lowen said. A resounding We do!, came from the entire Samcro charter. “All right”, she smiled. “We’re gathered here today, to witness the union of Jackson Nathaniel Teller, and Catherine Rose. If anyone sees any reason why these two should not be wed, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace”. Gemma looked menacingly across the room. “I’ll put a 5-inch heel so far up your ass, you’ll be able to taste the dogshit I stepped in outside”, she growled. A low murmuring chuckle sounded all around.

“Jackson”, Lowen said. “Do you take Catherine to be your lawful wedded wife?”. Jax grinned – his blue eyes sparkling with joy. “Hell yeah. I do”. My cheeks flushed red. “Catherine”, Lowen continued. “Do you take Jackson to be your lawful wedded husband?”. “I do”, I smiled. Jax looked at Lowen. “Can I kiss her now?”, he asked. Laughter erupted. “Not yet…”, Lowen smiled. “Rings first”. “Shit, yeah”, Jax chuckled.

He waved over Abel, and took two bands from the boy’s hand. They had been JT’s and Gemma’s wedding rings. I sent my almost-mother-in-law a loving look. She nodded, and wiped away a tear. “Thanks, son”, Jax whispered, and kissed his son’s head. Abel hugged my leg for a second, before running back to Gemma.

“Do you have vows?”, Lowen asked. Jax nodded, and handed me the larger ring. I took his left hand, and held the band in front of his ring finger. “Jackson; with this ring, I vow my love and affection. I promise to try to learn how to cook, to dance on folding chairs whenever you ask me to – and to protect and cherish you and our children, with all I have. I will always be a faithful, devoted, and – sometimes – obedient wife and old lady”. I slid the ring onto his finger, and sent him a warm smile.

Jackson blew out a deep breath; and took my hand, holding the smaller ring in front of the finger I was already wearing my crow on. “Ok”, he said. “Catherine; with this ring, I vow my love and affection. I promise to do the dishes more often, to let you wear this flannel whenever you want…”. He gestured to the blue flannel he was wearing under his cut. “And to protect and cherish you and our children, with all I have. I will always be a faithful, devoted and respectful husband, and old man. I’ll treat you as good as my leather”.

Opie patted his shoulder. “What else…?”, he muttered. Jax grinned. “Come on! I already ride her, more than my Harley”, he chuckled. The whole room erupted in laughter, and I scrunched up my face in embarrassment. “But I promise to continue doing so”, Jax finished; and slid on the ring – kissing my hand in the wake.

Lowen looked at us both meaningfully. “Then; by the power vested in me, by the state of California – I now pronounce you; husband and wife”. Jax looked at her questioningly. “Now?”, he asked. “Now”, Lowen nodded with a smile.

Jax yanked me into his embrace, put his hand my cheek – and we kissed as husband and wife. The room erupted in applause. Abel’s tiny foot met his father’s shin. “No touching!”, he yelled, to loud laughter.

Jax looked at me, and smiled. “Nah, kid. I’m holding on to this one. And I’m never letting go”.

THE END

#jackson teller #jax teller x oc #jax teller fic #jax teller #jackson teller fic #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fic #soa

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galacticlamps · 3 years

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tea and books asks! 1, 8, 19, 20? o:

1 - What period of history do you enjoy learning about?

The "I've actually studied this a bunch for a degree" answer is Early Modern Europe. The "It's a hobby at best but it's been one for so long it's probably what this question means" answer is Eighteenth Century People Who Didn't Like Being Ruled by England - and if that category sounds incredibly childish, that's because it totally is. I can't even be sure what sparked it because there were just too many candidates in close chronological range: it could've been the summers of exposure to my grandparents' Irish & Scottish folk songs (and obviously embellished historical anecdotes), it could've been watching Liberty's Kids daily for at least a year (a PBS cartoon about kids during the American Revolution), it could've been the American Girl Doll "Felicity" book series, set in the same era (I had all of hers, and used the little historical info sections in the back to come up with topics to research any time we were allowed to pick our own subjects for reports in elementary school), or it could've been these series of books I used to take out from the library constantly before I was up to reading real novels - they were fictional accounts of historical events, told in the form of diary entries by children, some from the perspective of real people and some from fictional characters. Ironically, the one I was obsessed with wasn't any of the 18th century girls but an Early Modern - Mary Queen of Scots - but I still blame my interest in 18th-century Scottish history on her because at the end of her "diary" they had a brief little bio about the real Mary, which mentioned the fact that Elizabeth I had her executed. Since I'd just read Elizabeth's diary like a week before and enjoyed it (but not as much as Mary's, of course, because she had a pet hawk and snuck out disguised as a boy sometimes), this was news that I needed to know more about, pronto, but when I went looking for kid-friendly books about this whole english-scottish mess, the Stuarts they tended to cover (if they mentioned anyone at all) weren't from Mary's era but the Jacobites - and now it's nearly 20 years later and I've learned relatively little more about Mary and yet pick up any book I come across that's related to the '45. At the moment I'm in the middle of Culloden: Battle and Aftermath. Whoops.

8 - What are your top three films? Books?

I'm very bad at picking favorites - in this case, movies are hard because I don't watch many, and books are hard because I do read a lot. To make it easier for myself, I'm going cheat and think of this as which ones I revisit the most, so for movies I'd say:

Stardust, the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie, and The Wizard of Oz Books are so much harder but since it does say books and not novels I get to say the play Richard II, the Ray Bradbury short story collection The Martian Chronicles, and Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson (that one is a novel, but I pick it up and re-read sections so often it doesn’t even have a proper permanent place on the shelf)

19 - Do you prefer forests, sea shores, or meadows?

Forests for sure! I live by the sea shore so I do spend a lot of time there, and that’s probably why I’m more intrigued by a forest, which I'm always excited to walk through when I get the chance. Oddly, I'm not a huge fan of meadows - I think they feel weirdly vacant to me, like I should be trying to have a picnic or a party or something there and I just forgot to invite anyone else.

20 - If you were to cultivate a fruit orchard, what would you grow?

Definitely apples, and if I could (I know nothing about what climates this would involve) I'd want to add cherries, peaches, plums and maybe grapes to the list too.

#ask meme stuff #who knew i had such weird opinions about meadows lol

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dwestfieldblog · 3 years

Text

A VERY REMOTE ENGLISH TEACHER

Where meditations, rants, reverie and absent seizures cross over... closer to one gun with one bullet, the rose of ruby and the cross of gold...uff, and MENTACIDE IN THE TIME OF MASQUES. Although I have never suffered from the guilty masochistic torture of ‘pleasure anxiety’, Bacchus hath indeed drowned more men than Neptune. So I stopped drinking for 18 days to fool myself I was doing something positive and threw away enough things to be minimalist again. Arf. Beauty and/or function uber alles.

Been treading water for three years and trying not to drown...big round of one hand clapping for the former poet. Meanwhile, in this temporary world and perception I have created of it, I am looking at a very possible exile one way or the other...my ‘plan’...a long phased withdrawal or hasty retreat. My wish is to stay, but once I leave, it might well be very hard to return. Read as many metaphors as you want into that but in spite of my dislike of the conservatively minded Aristotle’s ‘either/or’ nonsense, there do indeed appear to be only two this time. And appear is the operative word. Appearances can be deceptive and emotions (unless raised and focused) cloud over what should be clear. Pain has a tendency to breed worry and fear too but let’s draw a veil over that for now eh? Suppress, suppress, release comes later...breathe deep and try not to cough, onward we go where the game gets rough...Just like Tom Thumbs Blues 65.

Remember Roman Protasevich...As Lukasenko himself said...‘Belarus stood at the edge of an abyss and I helped it take a step forward’. Look good on your tombstone that will Al. Fecking outrageous the Indian PM only admitted in May that covid was transmitted in the air. He needs removing... as do two thirds of all the other world leaders East and West. Hello Bollsanaro. People are very easy to manipulate when they’re are scared or angry...and right now the world majority are both. But, ‘there is a crack in everything... that’s how the light gets in’... and ‘things could change’, doesn’t have to be for the worse. It can take decades to realise this as actual truth, but still nice to read and try internalise the following last week.’The odds actually favour the optimists, since dissipate structures are more likely to evolve into more information rich (intelligent?) forms than into primitive or chaotic forms.’ All my friends bar my best one are optimists..Hello you:-)

Ever onward deeper downward with Orban in Hungary and his mission of ‘Christian values’, which involves a familiar routine of arresting, beating and disappearing dissenters in the name of Christ and taking over the universities to replace professors with those who understand on which side their bread is buttered. Decent judges long gone. Nice fascist communism...and ex soldiers in France and the Czech republic warning of civil war...

And now spiraling we go into the black hole vortex of Disaster capitalism, ‘Let the bodies pile high’. There’s gold in them thar ills....ISLAND PARANOIA and PERFIDIOUS ALBION! A country which demands a contract, agrees, signs to it and then refuses to honour it. We look worse than ridiculous, we look deceitful. Gentlemen, your places please. Boris Johnson is a clumsy, inept, disgraceful charlatan, con merchant and LIAR. A blustering master bullshit artist, the only decent thing about his recent secret wedding is that now he legally has one less bastard child.

Recently I read that British people are displaying signs of Stockholm syndrome...in that they dislike those who hold power over them and make the rules but during the time of pandemic, they are the ones who will release the saviour vaccine and get everything moving again. So rather than rocking the boat and daring to express dissent at the DIABOLICAL handling of the last 18 months, they have mostly kept quiet and voted for the same endlessly failing, corrupt and venal politicians who made a bad situation far worse. (That said, it bears repeating that there are a few million in the UK who didn’t quite understand that that the spread of a highly contagious airborne virus can be slowed by the wearing of masks/applying basic hygiene and even took offence at being told what should have made sense to any adult homo SAPIENS half capable of cogitating for themselves. Morons and scum. Same where you are?

By the way BBC...the colossal dearth of stories about the endless government failures in relation to Covid, death, corruption and the NHS...ever since they blackmailed you with threats of revoking the TV licence fee and got you to change Directors has been noted. Long may Have I Got News For You continue the satire and balance needed in a DEMOCRACY. Obey your public servants? Why, when they do not serve few but themselves? Power OF the people? Which ones...the mob? The same bleating pricks who follow populists?

Four eyed beanpole fop Rees Mogg, with his wonderful line that the benefits of Brexit will be seen ‘over the next fifty years’...well yes, that is why most people vote in democratic elections eh?...So they will be dead or ancient before the change they hoped for comes...and the politicians who lead them now, will have all long moved on to revolving door chairman of the board offshore limited liability company paradise. Bread today jam tomorrow fairytales. What I tell you three times is true.

O, but the English do so love to be told what to do by dumb posh boys who treat them like dirt. Some are forelock tugging and some are self flagellating middle class upper class wannabes who will never get there but still feel proud they are not street level proles. Doby the house elf alien hamster Michael Gove found guilty of breaking the law. Nothing. Internal inquiries run by those connected to the money changing hands find nothing illegal. Corruption for all to see...and ignore. ‘Well, what can we do?’ The uselessly inept serial failure Dido Harding to be in charge of the National Health Service? (she of the collapsed Woolworths, Talk Talk and the 22 BILLION pound loss of the Covid Track and Trace program where non working consultants/insultants, were paid 1000 pounds a day). American style privatisation is coming where only the wealthy or criminal can afford to be repaired and well. Sick.

Meanwhile, All our imported nurses out, and all the lobster red fat Spanish costa de la sol criminals back in. Great exchange, fair trade and forward thinking. The Kremlin are manipulating/supporting Scottish independence... I read years ago about their base in Edinburgh for Russia Today (the foul insert in The Daily Telegraph) and they were already encouraging it. Rees Smug has accelerated and supported their freedom with his snobbish utterances on countries in the UK other than England and their ‘foreign languages’. With every patronising, arrogant pronouncement, the Eton trifles fuel the fire in Scotland which has a long bitter history of being tortured, murdered and subjugated by their southern masters. Perhaps the chumocracy in Downing Street believe the Celts to be as easily cowed as the middle and working classes down south. Here’s hoping not. ‘Rebellious Scots to crush’? Not this time pal.

As for the future of Britain? A dystopian open prison where the lower social classes toil only at the pleasure of their masters. The higher caste getting richer and all others cast into a living Hell of debt, crime, and sickness. Serve until you die and be thankful we allow you to exist. Increasing in utter irrelevance to the world, other than as an example of how wrong a former democracy can go. This future started decades ago...its baobab roots truly deep now. Better education and critical thinking for the masses in the UK (or anywhere else) is highly unlikely now. Optimism huh? As long as I am not in England, I will still be able to tap into it, but once enclosed long term in the group mind there...trapped in a grey quagmire. Keep smiling...

Several weeks ago, I watched a video on YT of apparently English protestors running after the police in London, some attacking and throwing things, one pulling off the pandemic mask of an officer and all shouting abuse at the outnumbered cops who had to keep pulling back. As always, to get my caffeine rush of fury going, I read the comments and was surprised to see two or three from Chinese names. Almost all comments were against the government (fair enough) and dumb against the lock down, masks, vaccinations etc. Checking again, I saw the video had been posted by CGTN...a media company owned and run by the communist party in Beijing...and not one author of diatribes had mentioned this, nor speculated with a critical thought as to why such an organisation might enjoy turning people against their own democratically elected government (however mind rippingly foul and corrupt they are).

I copy pasted the Wikipedia paragraph about the company onto the page and hoped someone else would make the connection. I wouldn’t mind so much IF there were a credible and decent alternative other than the diseased populist poison for which the demonstrating goons chant. China really cares about the standard of democracy in Britain eh? Persuade your enemies to weaken themselves. Destroying countries by encouraging their ‘patriots’.

(That was written on the anniversary of Tienanmen Square...a few days later Xi Jinping gave a speech saying ‘...a lovable and respectable’ China must be presented to the world and must ‘expand its circle of friends’. Tell that to your teenage ‘dissidents’, Muslims, Falun Gong and Tibetans being tortured and brainwashed in prisons or being used for organ harvesting. Tell it to Hong Kong and Taiwan.)

Unholy America...against abortion and the pill, sex education’s not Gods will and in the Name of Christ they kill...if truth be known, we’ve failed the test...but Jesus was a Socialist and Republican conservatives hate them. The founding fathers of America were Very clear about separation of church and state with damn good Reason. Another part time Christian, Mike Pompeo wants to be president. Q Onan deepstorm morons/Kremlin stool pigeons aka POLEZNYYE IDIOTY continue to push for Trump and his Big Lie...He with the brain where ‘In the left, nothing is right and in the right, nothing’s left.’ Arf.

Over the last two decades, the dumb have been finding their voice and are now louder and prouder of their dumbass ignorance. 74 million in the US alone, their egos unable to retreat in the face of endless evidence to the contrary, they all double down. Like children sticking their fingers in their grimy ears sing songing ‘la la la can’t hear you’. 74 million versions of Eric Cartman, loud, proud and wrong. And uuff, Megan Markle, Majorie Taylor Greene, walking Picasso collage (bad car driver) Caitlin Jenner and Ivana Trump in politics...not exactly holding a proud lantern for women eh? I’d like to buy them for what they are worth and sell them for what they think they are worth. Not very PC?

That was the point. Could easily been written about all of the men written about here too. Next examples follow...

Tucker Carlson and Alex Jones compete for who can be as mentally ill as trump. The Miami school where the husband and wife directors told teachers not to return if they had HAD their vaccine shots because their proximity to students was interfering with menstrual cycles and uuuufff...The sickness of utter mind buggering stupidity. I had my first shot, now waiting to turn reptilian when the 5G masts triangulate my position. Fnord. Covid appears to be killing more overweight meat eating males than females...perhaps testosterone is not useful for the coming Race of non binary mutant hermaphrodites...and look out for the end of the Y chromosome, coming to a temporary universe near you...in 4.6 million years. Yes, really.

Glad Netanyahu is out at last, smug corruption is never a good look unless one is a rich criminal. Ha. The Promised land of Israel...If I was in court for serial murder, breaking, entering and stealing and then defended my actions by saying that God had told me to do it, would the Judge; A. Call for a psychiatric report, B. Disregard the statement as unprovable and pass the appropriate sentence, C, say Ok mate, you’re free to go, good luck to you. ? Moses had a good schtick.

The law is only to punish the poor, do you feel as if you suffer from empathy? Once you know, you no longer need to believe. What does ‘reality’ seem to be? The more certain you are, the stupider you get and belief is the death of intelligence. The machine is running the engineers. What is the definition of rationality...the quality of being based on or in accordance with reason or logic.

Nothing is, but thinking makes it so. Epicurus.

EVERYTHING NOT COMPULSORY IS FORBIDDEN.

The glamour illusion of the mass of pointless hot influencers needs a constant renewing of the Banishing Ritual as much as all the pigslop bile coming from Fox News and Sky. Bloody long haired commie liberal faggot they cry against any not identical to them. Some days I have only flamethrowers of hatred for these idiots. Other days...not exactly self doubt, just questions...most of us seem to believe our opinions are more valid when there are emotions connected to them. Including me. Again, this seems like a very weak version of ‘truth’, unless disciplined, channeled and focused to a certain end.

Life appears to exist in order to become via chaos.

Most of us are working only not to be homeless, some because of the joy in our chosen work regardless of finances. Until ‘reality’ kicks in the door...the bondage gets tighter when you struggle. How much hardship is the individual willing to endure these days by choice? Surrounded by a universe of distraction and destruction, Maya mewling for our attention. Five years of Trump, rampant populism and Brexit doing a Hexagram 23 on democracy, compounded by the pandemic...all on top of ‘normal’ daily life. The ego feeds and the immune system breaks down. Hard to ignore without being on a mountain or in a parallel dimension and emotion free other than compassion. But BY GODDESS IT CAN AND WILL BE DONE. Ladies of Life Nin Khursag, Isis, Kali, Aradia...Love one, Love ALL. At very least have respect for thyself but be not thou proud of thine arrogance nor thy suffering.

Or just Remember where you came from, what you were, seem to be and will become.

Heal, heal, more work to do, more love to give, more love to feel, Heal. Stay in drugs, eat your school and don’t do vegetables. Impose your own reality upon and through yourself, breathe, exhale, repeat, and continue, LOVE UNDER WILL. Experience and absorb but ‘It’s a house of tricks, ignore the world’’.

Stay well, be seeing you:-)

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the-busy-ghost · 4 years

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If you don't mind answering, what are some things that you really, really wish you'd see more of in depictions of medieval Scotland/Early Modern Scotland?

I absolutely don’t mind answering, thank you for asking!

I’m told there are some better quality novels than there are tv shows and films, so there are some aspects that have been done in good novels (though I’m not so familiar with them). There are so many things though that could be done on screen:

- Chiefly I spend a lot of my time wishing that there was more attention paid to the actual geographical make-up of Scotland and its regional variety, e.t.c beyond just splitting everything into Highland/Lowland, or just portraying everyone as being part of a Clan in the Highland sense, or just sticking everyone in Edinburgh as if that was the only place where anything happened. Orkney was very different to Galloway, and the Borders were very different to the Western Isles, and Ross was different to Aberdeenshire.

Now if this was true for the sixteenth century, it is even MORE true for the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries. Between the early Middle Ages and the end of the thirteenth century, Scotland was settled by a lot of different cultures- so in the twelfth century for example, much of the country (the traditional heartland of ‘Scotia’ north of the Forth) may have spoken Gaelic but Lothian had been settled by speakers of Old English some centuries ago and their language became Scots in time, and spread north of the Forth into Fife, Angus, Aberdeenshire and elsewhere so that by the sixteenth century it was much more widely spoken and the language of government. The south-west, especially the area around the Clyde and Glasgow was a British kingdom for a long time, speaking a language not dissimilar to Old Welsh- this kingdom had (sort of) disappeared by the mid-twelfth century but the language took a while to completely disappear. Up in Orkney, Shetland, and Caithness, rather like in Iceland and the Faroes, Norse settlers had taken over and Norse culture has still left traces there today. From the fourteenth century, Scots began to take over in the Northern Isles but there was still a very clear Norse background in the sixteenth century. Meanwhile in the Western Isles, the Norse newcomers did not manage to erase Gaelic so completely as they did in the Northern Isles, but they did leave their mark on the Hebrides, to the extent that the inhabitants in the Western Isles in the in the twelfth century were descendants of both cultures- they are sometimes called Gall-Ghàidheil in Gaelic, meaning ‘foreigner Gael’. Then over the course of the twelfth century more new immigrants moved in. The ranks of the nobility were swelled by Norman, Breton, and other French settlers- unlike England, there was no ‘Norman Conquest’, and the process was more gradual, but although the French language never had the same power in Scotland as it did in thirteenth century England, these settlers left their mark on the feudal system and other aspects of Scottish society, and in turn they too were affected by the cultures they encountered in Scotland. Other smaller pockets of immigration existed- immigrants from Flanders and the Netherlands, for example, were instrumental to developing Scottish towns and improving agriculture. In the east coast burghs of Fife and Lothian you can still see some architectural elements that may have been the result of trade with the Dutch- crow-stepped gables and red pantiles for example.

Although most of these cultures have altered and changed by the sixteenth century, the fact remains that the cultural backdrop to fourteenth or fifteenth century Scotland was a real mix- Gaelic, English, French, Norse, Flemish, British- and, perhaps, whatever it was that the elusive Picts left behind beyond their wonderful stone monuments. I have perhaps oversimplified things here but the point is that mediaeval and early modern Scotland was not a cultural monolith- something which both Scottish and foreign film-makers would do well to remember.

There are also changes to these regions across the years- Orkney going from being a Norwegian/Danish territory to becoming part of the Scottish kingdom, or the borders which had some of the best farmland and richest abbeys in the country in the thirteenth century becoming a very militarised and rather lawless zone after the Wars of Independence. I think it would be really interesting to see that portrayed on screen.

- Ok so that was the fundamental thing, apologies for the rant. But to go with that, more understanding of the landscape and architecture. In all fairness most tv shows and films involving Scotland, no matter how bad they are, at least have some lovely panning shots of the Highlands but there’s more to the country than Glencoe- you could really work with views like the sun on the sea from the Carrick coast or the beautiful if ruinous religious architecture- like the abbeys of Melrose or Arbroath or somewhere like Elgin Cathedral or Rosslyn Chapel or Inchmahome Priory.

- Costuming! Again this fits into the regional thing a bit, but it’s also more general. It’s a quibble I have with almost any medieval media but especially when it comes to Scotland people get really lazy with the costuming and just slap some shortbread tin stuff together rather than putting any thought into it.

- More traditional music! A surprising number of ballads and songs that are still popular among folk singers today are thought to have their roots in early modern if not mediaeval Scotland. And again the musical heritage of Scotland is varied depending on the culture it comes from.

- More properly developed female characters. Even though half the historical films made about Scotland are about Mary Queen of Scots, there are almost no good depictions of historical Scotswomen- and that’s NOT because there aren’t any interesting women in Scottish history before the modern period! There are lots of fascinating women’s stories from mediaeval and early modern Scotland, and although we are often frustrated by a lack of sources, we know they were there. More importantly, even if every woman was not a Certified Bad-Ass, as a whole women in Scottish history are not invisible and we can often see them in the records, whether operating in domestic, business, religious, or political contexts. Oddly, in their quest to show how Uniquely Misogynistic and Evil the Scottish nobility were to Mary Queen of Scots or Margaret Tudor or whoever, film-makers often end up ignoring women’s stories and therefore perpetuating the sexist view of history they claim to hate. (Though, yes mediaeval and early modern Scotland WAS misogynistic- but show me a country that wasn’t. Also it was misogynistic in a slightly different way to some other countries). I could list off dozens of interesting Scotswomen who lived before 1603- even though we sometimes can’t tell that much about their inner lives from the surviving sources, it’s obvious they were of some importance. And again it fits back into the cultural variety thing, because that was not limited to Lowland, Scots-speaking noblewomen.

- More art and literature and architecture and education and music and EVERYTHING. Scotland lost a LOT during the Reformation and due to Anglo-Scottish warfare (that’s what happens when the main centre of your kingdom is near to a border). But we know that, though it was sometimes an out of the way place, Scotland could be just as heavily tied into European cultural trends as any other northern country. And there are some beautiful surviving cultural artefacts that hint at a more vibrant past- both produced in Scotland (in the Gaelic and Scots-speaking environments) and imported from abroad.

- Equally on that note, more focus on its connections to countries other than England. Scotland had three universities by 1500, and yet many Scottish students still went to study abroad, especially in France, but also in England, the Low Countries, Italy, and elsewhere. An Italian humanist taught at the Abbey of Kinloss away up in Moray in the sixteenth century, and Scottish thinkers were in touch with other great minds of the day. Scots also fought abroad (see mercenaries in Sweden, or James IV’s support given to his uncle the king of Denmark, or the Garde Écossaise), and traded heavily across the North Sea (there were multiple Scots merchant colonies on the continent, not least at Veere). Scotland’s relations with Norway, Denmark, the Low Countries, the Papacy, Ireland (both as part of the kingdom of England and with individual Irish families), and other countries could be almost as important as its relationships with France and England. The eternal triangle of Scotland, England, and France, was not actually always the story- there were occasions when England and France played very little role in Scotland’s foreign affairs, let alone its domestic history.

- In particular an acknowledgement of the high quality of Scots poetry in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries wouldn’t go amiss.

- This is one which applies to all mediaeval media- but a more varied and interesting depiction of mediaeval religion would be good. In Scotland, this was also linked to the way people saw their own history- any sixteenth century Scot would have known some of the native saints, and anyone half-educated might have heard the names of David I and St Margaret and Columba, and known where the great abbeys in the kingdom came from.

- Actually a basic knowledge of Scottish history and legends beyond a few famous names. For example family was important in noble society- just because the stereotypical The Clans Are Gathering model is massively inaccurate, doesn’t mean that noble families in Scotland didn’t care about ancestry and kinship. But it would be great if tv shows and movies could actually think about how to portray that- and it really shows how little some of these scriptwriters know about their characters when they’re supposedly obsessed with the honour of the clan but the only piece of their country’s history they know is the name William Wallace. If you’re portraying the Douglases- even the earls of Angus who weren’t directly descended from him- the legacy of Sir James Douglas would have been a source of some pride. For actual ‘clans’, you could be dealing with some of the clans in the west of Scotland who, like some families in Ireland, claimed descent from Niall of the Nine Hostages. Some family histories got warped along the way- the Stewarts, for example, seem to have forgotten that they were descended from a Breton named Flaald by the fifteenth century and instead latched onto a story involving a character named Fleance (the one who later appears in Macbeth). As for legends- you could have a lot of fun with the different kinds of fairy belief that existed in Scotland, from the Borders (where it inspired ballads like Tam Lin) to the Highlands, or you could bring up legendary figures that are shared with other countries like King Arthur or Fionn Mac Cumhaill or Robin Hood or Hector of Troy. Sometimes the legends even cross over into real life- Thomas the Rhymer, hero of ballads and fairytales, seems to have been based on a real person who lived in the reign of Alexander III; while stories about William Wallace and Robert Bruce often became folk tales in the tradition of other greenwood outlaws like Robin Hood.

I think it’s pretty evident that my main issues with depictions of mediaeval and early modern Scotland on tv and film are largely because it’s so utterly unlike anything I see in the historical record. I’d love to list specific details and characters I’d like to see portrayed on screen, but before we even get to that point, the whole Generic Portrait of Scotland needs to change, because it doesn’t currently feel very realistic or interesting. All I really want is for the same level of research to be done with regard to Scotland as is done for England or France or any other country- England is often portrayed inaccurately, but there’s still at least 200% more effort put in than for Scotland.

On that note though, James I’s career (or at least the early fifteenth century as a whole) has been ripe for a television adaptation for years. Also I’m personally fascinated by ordinary rural life, patterns of agriculture and landholding, e.t.c. so even just an ordinary story set in an early sixteenth century fermtoun would be cool. But I don’t really think these stories would make any sense to people if Scotland was just portrayed the way it usually is - a generic country with no culture beyond a few scraps of tartan and alcohol and Anglophobia.

Thank you for the opportunity to rant, and apologies for the screed! I couldn’t express my enthusiasm very concisely I’m afraid. I genuinely don’t mind if there’s some inaccuracies to portrayals of Scotland, but now all portrayals are exactly the same and almost wholly inaccurate so it gets frustrating.

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blankdblank · 5 years

Text

Loki Baby Pt 5

… Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - ...

Wk 19 -- “…I left it in my room…”

… @sdavid09, @theincaprincess, ...

Through the line giggles filled the room Scott and his little girl were playing and joking around for a few moments before the father answered, “Scott here.”

Tony smirked answering, “Scott, Tony Stark here, got a job for you and that suit of yours.”

“Um,” he said glancing at his girl moving onto putting together some snacks, “Tony, I don’t know about that, last time in Germany-,”

“This is not about that, trust me, this will not have any federal repercussions. It is entirely domestic, child play really for a pro like you.”

Scott’s brows furrowed and he leaned against the doorframe asking, “If it is so simple then why me?”

“Because the target hates me and I need an alibi.”

His lips pursed for a moment then he asked, “This is not an approval, but, what am I supposed to be after?”

Tony, “I need you to break in and take this pen,”

Scott laughed out loud, “A pen?!”

Tony, “It looks like a pen, but it isn’t, and I need you to get it so I can test it and find out what it is exactly.”

With a tilt of his head Scott’s lip curled for a moment and he turned to grin and wave at his daughter and said, “Send me the details, I’ll scope it out.”

“Good, fifteen grand in it for you when you deliver the pen.” Scott had to hold back his giddy laugh and sharing of the deal until the following morning when he went in to work in handing off his little girl for the weekend trip to an amusement park out in Florida.

Off to his job he raced and through the door he stepped with arms out saying, “None of you are going to guess who just hired me for a job today.”

Kurt, “Bruce Springsteen.”

Dave turned to look at him with a momentarily scrunched face, “Man, no way is Bruce Springsteen even on our radar.” Looking to Scott he said, “Ugh,” he said snapping his fingers, “What is that guys name?” Again he snapped then pointed at Scott, “Guy Fierri!”

Kurt, “Who is Guy Fierri?”

Dave, “He’s that tv chef with blonde spiked hair and that dark goatee. My lady’s got me hooked on these cooking shows, and-,”

Kurt, “Oh, yes I saw that Kitchen Rescue show. Cannot get enough.”

Luis turned in his chair after having untangled his chair from the phone and internet cable looking over the trio as Scot waved his hands, “Guys! No!”

Dave sighed leaning back in his chair faking interest in the change of subject, “Fine Scott, who did hire you?”

“Tony Stark!” He replied quickly receiving a room full of blinks. “Guys, ok, I know what you’re thinking, after the Germany thing, though this time, this time entirely domestic and so simple!”

Kurt, “What, he wants to have us install security system in one of his offices?”

Dave, “Nah man, he’s got his own grid, why would he go about hiring us?”

Scott bounced on his feet in a momentary crouch, “He wants me to steal a pen!” Brows rose and he added, “For fifteen grand! Though it’s not really a pen he thinks it just looks like a pen and he wants me to get it so he can check it out.”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed, “Is it pen gun?”

Scott’s eyes turned to Dave as he said, “Ooh, one of those poison dart pens? Saw one of those in a spy film once.”

Kurt, “Can’t be a grapple hook pen, completely illogical.”

Dave, “From that Johnny English film, yes!” turning to Scott he asked, “Why you?”

Scott looked between them then said, “Apparently he’s hated by the person with the pen and needs an alibi.”

Luis climbed out of his chair to join the others as Kurt asked, “Who’s the target? Some mastermind villain?”

Scott glanced at his phone rereading the message with all the info in it, “Some lady named Jaqi Pear.”

Luis, “Woah, woah, woah! Back that bus up you are not telling me that you accepted a job to rob one of the sweetest ladies on this planet, not counting my Grandma and your little girl. Cuz man, if you did I gotta judge our friendship a bit closer for your motives on that spectrum siding with Stark against the sweetest lady on the planet!”

The whole speech fired out rapidly and nearly had Scott reeling before he replied, “How do you know her? I’ve never heard of her.”

Kurt, “Pear? Like the fruit Pear?”

Scott nodded and Dave waved his hand and clicked his tongue, “Man, you mean you accepted a job from the woman who backed our company loan?!”

Scott, “Wait, what?! No, I though Master Industries backed us.”

Kurt, “Master, founded by a Miss Pear, the leading security and technology company in this country with resources even Stark cannot touch.”

Scott haltingly replied, “I, did, not, know that…”

Luis crossed his arms, “So, what does this Stark assume the sweetest lady on the planet ever could possibly be up to with this pen?”

Scott shrugged, “I don’t know man, he just said he wanted the pen.” Looking his friend over he asked, “Wait, how does one of the biggest tech and security companies take the time and money to invest in our band of misfits?”

Luis clicked his tongue, “Man, that goes way back to my Mom, when she was fresh out of high school,” with a grin he pointed at himself, “She just had me, and she needed place to get a job, and she heard from these guys on the street corner while waiting for the bus that this ‘dragon lady’ had spent half an hour railing them on their credentials and kicked them to the curb. Well, moms was straight up impressed, cuz these guys were in like top of the line suits with those really shiney shoes, one of ‘em wearing their Harvard pin on their tie. So she goes, ‘Hey, any chicka crazy enough to send these money bags off to the curb has got my interest.’ So she goes three blocks over skipping an interview for a maids job over to this just glass wrapped building thinking ‘Worst comes to worst I can shine the hell out of these windows and floors have this chicka working in a bomb office!’”

The guys nodded and Luis wet his lips saying, “So she goes right past the doorman, who for his nice suit didn’t say a thing bout her bringing me with her, and she strolled right up to the desk saying, ‘I came to see Miss Pear.’ Again no comment form the man behind the counter, kind of shifty in her mind at first, cuz they should have said something cuz she wasn’t really at the top of her game that day, her curling iron died and had to head out in last night’s makeup after a colicky night with me. But she gets told ‘go to the elevator’ so she does and up we go. Right in the line of suit clad guys Mom just sat her self down and waited for the line to go through, each time seeing a guy, who’s like a twin to the guy downstairs, only he’s got a red shirt on, who looked like the guy at the door, so she’s figuring maybe they’re all related somehow?”

Scott nodded, “Makes sense.”

Luis nodded and continued, “Right so surprisingly half an hour later the guy comes out again after the last guy looks at the list and turns around saying, ‘We have an unnamed applicant.’ And my Moms hears this honey dipped angelic voice say, ‘Show them in.’ She gets up, little bit wobbly, cuz, again, not top of her game, but she draws it in and struts right in, just working the confidence and sits right down across from this just top notch woman. Sleek green dress leaned back in her leather chair just working her figure, with long curled ponytail laying over her chest and just this stunning smile though it wasn’t till she leaned forward and that’s when she saw it.”

Dave, “The pen?”

Luis, “What? No! Her eyes! Bright purple! Shook my Moms hand and asked her her name and how do you do’s and all that then she got to the big question, ‘What brings you in today?’ and Moms just busted out with her hearing about those guys and her just knowing that this would be the right place for her and said that she’d be grateful for even a cleaning job.”

Kurt, “So she got the job?”

Luis smiled wider, “Miss Pear gave her an assistant job,” parting their lips, “I know right! Ya, took a chance on my Moms, and she just nailed it right out of the park. Sure she’s a bit,” his teeth flashed in a tilt of his raised hands, “Low key immortal but all around-,”

Scott, “Wait, what?”

Dave, “Did you say immortal?”

Luis, “See, she’s older than I am, cuz clearly I was a baby at the interview, but Mom said it wasn’t that big of a deal cuz Gran met her once and said there was nothing shady there, ‘sometimes there’s just those that are sent down to bless’ and that’s what she did. Cuz for 25 years she employed my Moms and even helped to get me a better lawyer to take up my appeal case pro bono and then after I got out insisted she take time off and see a specialist for that lump she had on her neck. Turned out it was cancer, and even when the company insurance refused to pay Miss Pear paid for everything, even the driver service to get her to each appointment and when my Moms passed she got top of the line everything down the line.

And of course I felt a bit bad you know, my growing up in the office and then taking that wrong legal turn that maybe I shouldn’t go there, but we had such a great idea and I knew that she would understand my idea and that if there was a problem with the pitch she would help me fix it, so I called the number and she says just drop by. Right in my Moms old chair is my second cousin in law Trish, who just sent me right in saying she cleared her morning for me. We caught all up and she wanted to hear all about how I’ve been doing and cleaning up after getting out and then I showed her the plans and how the banks refused the loan applications and asked how I could fluff it up for the business world.

All she does is do what she always did to seal the deal, lean her way back in that chair, still one bomb chicka after all these years and she dials the phone and makes a call, says ‘Charles, I’m sending someone over, give it to him.’ Then looks over to me when she hangs up ‘Just head over to Brumson Bank head straight up to Charles’ desk and tell him I sent you.’ And,” Excitedly he mimed a bomb exploding, “Boom! We got our loan!” his grin dropped and he said to Scott, “Now tell me you didn’t take a job to rob the sweetest lady on the planet?”

Scott felt his stomach drop a foot lower in hearing how this woman had changed his best friend’s life and his own by backing their company and he rubbed the back of his neck, “Um, I mean, it’s just a pen.”

Dave pursed his lips for a moment then asked, “Maybe, you could just talk to her? Maybe explain the situation, she might let you take a picture of the pen or something.”

Kurt nodded, “Yes, any woman that kind may be understanding.”

Luis pulled out his phone saying, “I’m gonna give you her address and send her a message you’re dropping by her office, and you better clear this up!” Luis typed on his screen and then said, “She’s shopping right now but she’ll be in her office in an hour. She will see you then.”

Scott nodded and said, “Cool, cool…” his lips pursed a moment and he said, “Wonder why Stark said she hates him.”

Waffles filled the air of your apartment that Loki let himself into after an otter opened the door for him and closed it behind him. The usually alluring scent you gave off was nearly doubled making his fingers clench around the sleeves of his sweater as his slippers tapped silently across the carpet in your warm living room making his flannel pants seeming all the more cozy nearly driving him to curl up on one of your couches for some more sleep. A striking glimpse of you however halted him in his tracks, fully done up and dressed to the nines, but groggily pacing in a stunning aura of something he could only explain as ‘snuggle up with me’ you finished setting out the various clearly freshly made fruit jams and spreads for the waffles, cinnamon raisin bread and muffins you had made.

A brush of your curled bangs that fell into your face from behind your ear clearly from the mess of curls pulled up into a messy bun on top of your head. In passing the island to fetch the juice for you, and milk for the tea brewing he caught sight of the short shorts in yellow under your grey baggy t shirt, tall socks pulled up to your knee in moose slippers had him wetting his lips and moving closer. Turning your head you spotted him and even in your clearly drowsy expression he forced a grin onto his face reminding himself to breathe. You were stunning with makeup and now he had seen you untouched, sleep wrinkles and indents from pillows still pressed into your cheek. Though the thing overpowering him was the scent wafting off you.

“Morning.” He forced out and you grinned back turning to fetch the whistling kettle.

“I have tea, and so many things.” You said turning granting him a change to exhale and let his hand rest on the counter blinking through the surge of hormones racing through his body before burying that behind another grin. “Um, it’s all on the table, help yourself, be right there.”

He nodded and turned trying not to shake from the powerful waves crashing through his body urging him to close the distance between you. Into his seat he lowered and filled his plate with his eyes drifting back up to you, he was never one to be lost to the throws of lust and very rarely found himself even pretending he was sexually attracted to anyone. Yet his eyes locked on you and wouldn’t leave the longer he stared at you sending his blood pumping causing his left arm to drop to his waist to manage the visual issues of this sudden pull to you. Managing a cool tone he asked, “Did you sleep well?”

In a half turn holding the kettle your hand was raised smoothing around the back of your earring untangling a strand of hair from it as you answered, “Sort of, got woken up by this call-.” In a sudden lift of your gaze your fingers stroked along the skin under your ear not feeling the strip of pheromone blocker you normally added when you had company. The absence of which fully explaining the bright red eyes of Loki locked on you, the enhanced pheromones you inherited from your father mingled with your Time Lord genes only worsening your attraction abilities on others and even more so when you were ovulating, shaking your head you carried the kettle over and poured out into your mugs set out. His chest rising in his deep inhale as you drew closer to his side, “Just some work thing.” You set the kettle down on the cooling mat on the table and said, “I forgot something, …I left it in my room…right back,”

Turning to cross the floor to your stairs you felt his gaze following you as you mentally berated yourself. Blinking his eyes Loki felt the wave drop all at once in him after you crossed the first rug and the scents of the meal you had made leaving him absolutely puzzled for what had just happened. True he knew the most of Frost Giants and their home but nothing of their physical, or chemical makeup through their lives. They had no study on it. True his mother had done what she could to learn enough to help him through what he had assumed to be his only flash of puberty when he was younger, but this had never happened to him before.

Thor sure enough like other Asgardian males had gone through a flash of heat where he had to be managed to keep from populating a kingdom of his own like other males sent off to traditional secondary planets far from any females in their own wave of hormone fueled misery instantly evening out when separated from the other gender. Loki saw this, from a bystander’s view, feeling none of the agitation or rage at not being able to breed to their fullest potential, his came three years later and lasted twice as long spurring on a special job from his mother to hide this from others. But even that was nothing like this, instant on and off again instantly making him hope that this was not true and he would not be putting you in any danger by being around you through this. He would never hurt you or force you in any way but with your size difference and his clear silver tongue mastery of persuasion no doubt it could be left to you having no choice in the matter of sleeping with him surely ruining things if he could not control this.

Down again you came and thankfully his below the waist situation had calmed enough he could sit up straight and flash you a grin slightly uncertain of the much more diluted excitement in seeing you again somehow troubling him more than the initial surge of attraction. As if now he ached in missing the unhelped attraction he could not dream of fighting, though he could never dream of wishing to have that for anyone but you for an even more puzzling truth settling in his mind worrying him as to why. Flashing a grin of your own you felt the circular patch fading into your skin beneath your ear radiating your pheromones into an aura of green apples around you, a simple solution to a problem your parents had showed you how to make on your own when you were younger for this very reason.

Into your seat you lowered and Loki looked you over with eyes narrowing for a moment at the scent of apples washing over him in your tending to your morning tea you raised for a sip to test how much honey to add to it. “Forgive me, but, did you put on perfume?”

Lowering your mug you wet your lips, watching his eyes trailing after your tongue, actions like that only worsening your pheromone problem as your attraction to the one affected by it only made your body give off more pheromones to drown the poor creature in them. He was clearly still feeling some effects of that initial hormonal draw to you, “No, it um,” your brows furrowed and you decided to tell a tiny white lie. “I’ve been working on my power cells lately, a new mechanism for it exactly, and recently I’ve noticed my pheromones just bursting out. I made some patches for it to block that, I forgot to put it on. Sorry about that, didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Exhaling sharply he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t relieved in your explanation, yet meanwhile disappointed it wasn’t something genuine for and from you sank in and he had to force his grin to remain in place until his mind flashed back to your flinching from staring at him in changing his shirt followed clearly by your stating that you did find him attractive. Bite by bite he felt his reminders that this was merely financial slipping away, with his hormones and attachment building in his urge to people please this was a losing battle he would hold no regrets over losing.

He had sworn to himself not to lose control and get attached but that damn calming innocence you exuded just lulled him right into the trap and that wave of hormones had him trying to steal glances to find that patch you had mentioned to see how simple it might be to brush against you and remove it to see what would happen. Before he knew it the meal was through and he was back in his closet staring at his clothes trying to choose which clothes to wear simple enough for your trip to the market for his pantry and basic supplies. Keeping it simple he chose a pale orange shirt he tucked into his black pants he pulled on with his boots tied on after. At his mirror he inhaled fixing his sleeves looking himself over only to shake his head at the thought on what to do to make you more attracted to him. Or rather which features you were attracted to helping you to choose him over someone like Thor.

Turning away he wet his lips heading back to the stairs to meet you in the hall, down he trotted hurrying to meet you hoping he hadn’t taken too long. With the door between you he paused smoothing his hand over his chest ensuring his shirt was smooth over his chest and stomach before opening the door to find the hall empty. Lowly he mumbled, “I cannot have taken too long..”

Your doorknob turned however and he stepped out using his key on the ring he had been palming to lock the door behind him then turned to grin at you looking over the jeans and blouse you were wearing with a flash of mint green from your heeled boots helping to get you to his shoulder. A click behind you and a grin eased across your pink painted lips. Back to your dolled up appearance his chest ached, already missing the intimacy of seeing the face and curls you kept to yourself. True makeup made little change as you used little of it to accent your eyes and lips but still nothing could touch the stunning shift of you in your most comfortable setting calling to his own urge to remain lounging in a book filled nook all day. That was his new daydream, hiding the day away with you reading or being read to as one of you lounged against the other, a perfect day filled with cuddling and stolen naps between sharing words of wonder and longing.

A compliment was given and sheepish chuckles were traded in the turn for the stairs down to the waiting car, it was a short drive but still you needed the trunk to transfer everything inside. Four steps in a stretch of his index finger looped around your pinky finger and the connection held for the trot down to the first floor. It seemed so simple, just a finger hold but a welcome invitation for a hand to hold was too much to pass up on. Another part of his dissolving line between the fantasy of this all and whatever it truly was. Settling into the car however the hold broke only to have his hand mold around the top of yours when it rested between your thighs, his thumb tenderly tracing pathways across the backs of your knuckles.

Turning his head he asked, “How long do we have?”

With a smirk you replied easing out his grin, “As long as you like, whole day’s clear.”

Locked in place his hand remained on yours even in the slide out of the car, which he used to help steady you to your feet and shifted to retain in the stroll to the front entrance. His spare hand used to guide the cart he tugged free from the corral and even a his eyes scanned the store he asked, “Where should we start?”

“Um, we could start with soaps and such if you like? Usually I leave frozen and refrigerated items to last.”

“Good plan, soaps and such it is.”

Each and every aisle he went down collecting a supply of possible necessities keeping up the conversation you had started and always claimed your hand again after each step away to inspect or fetch something new. The food half was next and from basics to comfort food and snacks came next, though lost between two chip flavors his head turned slightly seeing you draw your phone out of your purse after it’s buzz and chime. In a full glance your way as you read the message he asked, “Work calling?”

‘Miss Pear, I was wondering if you might be able to meet up with my best friend sometime. Seems he’s got himself in a bit of a jam and needs someone to talk to.’

To yourself you let out a hmm in confusion and raised your gaze to Loki, “Friend of a former assistant of mine wants to talk to me about something.”

Hastily you typed back, ‘Tell them we can meet in an hour at my office.’

“You need to go now?”

Shaking your head you replied with a grin, “No, said I’d meet them in an hour.” His lips parted then closed and he nodded making you move closer and loop your arm in his making him grin, “Don’t look like that I’m not abandoning you. Plenty of time for you to pick a bag of crisps and finish the aisles. The otters will make easy work of the bags.” Looking at the bags he was stuck between you asked, “Ridges or barbecue?”

“I know I would care for one in one occasion but the other in different occasions.” Turning his head his gaze lowered to yours at the resting of your cheek against his arm while the thumb on your free hand traced a muscle in his bicep, “I suppose I could choose both, however the question is how long the bags would last.”

“If you mean freshness usually they last a few days before growing stale, though usually they are a bit addictive, even I can get through a majority of a bag before I’ve realized it.”

Loki nodded, “I shall pick both then, I rarely have gotten to try them, the team usually rushed in snatching them away.” He said claiming two flavors he added to the cart before eyeing the other flavors, “I suppose I could try a new pair a week. There are so many to choose from.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You said as he guided you along hoping you would stay draped against and around his arm for as long as possible. Through the line you did up to the car where you helped him fill the trunk and grinned to yourself when his hand melted around yours again. Inside the car again he looked to you in a subtle scoot closer to you and wet his lips before asking, “Any plans after your meeting?”

Turning your head you caught a flinch of his eyes over your face as you drew in a breath to keep your pulse slow noticing he’d moved closer again making your eyes flinch to his lips for a moment, “Just heading back. I doubt it would take long,”

Taking the words out of your mouth he asked, “Up for a film after?”

“Sure, give you a chance to break into those chips of yours.” Back home again into the garage you went and in a sea of floating otters with their arms full of bags you rode the lift up to his apartment he unlocked and chuckled in following the adorable floating otters to his kitchen to put everything away. Stealing a glance at you he flashed you a grin as you said, “I should pop off. I will see you after, and be careful they tend to alphabetize everything, while the one with spots tends to sort things by color.”

Loki couldn’t help but chuckle, “I will monitor the situation, thank you.” His eyes followed you in your path out of the apartment down to your car again.

Down the steps you trotted asking, “What could this possibly be?”

Pt 6

#Tale Teller’s 52 Week Writing Challenge #Loki x Reader OC

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catherinestuart · 5 years

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a study in tartan: she & him, away from prying eyes the royal mòd at rothesay, scotland, circa. nov ‘19 ( feat. @beaufort-a )

there was a certain feeling that settled in the pit of her stomach as catherine walked off stage after her speech and made her way back to the royal box, for next to her customary seat sat a man who would conceivably be by her side long into the future. a relationship that her mother once referred to as ‘mere colleagues’, one that theoretically held no hope for love or other unnecessary emotions. they sat within a respectable distance of one another, the specifics of which might keep royal commentators and reporters alike amused for the next week or two, arguing with each other if the match was one ill-conceived and hurried or borne out of true feelings. the princess might be able to argue for both sides ( because she can, and have done so in numerous occasions ) for they were both somewhat true. hurried, because the situation in england was dire at best, and simultaneously borne out of the true feelings of ambition. what might happen at present, however, might serve more entertaining to those who paid attention.

he sat, almost lazily but still without contempt, and watched the proceedings with rapt attention, occasionally leaning down to say a word or two into her ear. a question, perhaps, about the reasoning of the song choice or to inquire about a translation that he did not quite understand. it was half-way through the show when several keen-eyed audience members had noticed how the prince’s arm was draped across the back of the princess’ chair, the fact of which made every single article the very next day. even the prince consort and the queen did not enjoy such closeness during their engagement period, and somehow that had set younger scots aflame. he hovered still as she made her rounds after the event, sharing quips and conversations with the marquess of bute’s children, a constant presence yet a little out of reach. it was when catherine lost herself in discussions of domestic politics with various members of parliament did andrew found his way back to her side, his hand brushing her’s as he listened, enthralled. she almost wanted to hold his hand then. almost, but not quite.

they made their way back to her home, a private estate that was given to her for her twenty-first birthday from the duke of atholl, with the retinue of performers as well as glittering members of the scottish high society in their wake. mount stuart house shone with light, overflowing with champagne and mirth, with their crown princess and her prince in the centre. it was then did catherine held the possibility of their little lives constrained in scotland, without the added english titles that might make andrew a king, and for once, she did not feel sorry for it. there was music and dancing after a day of duties, shared between them somewhat, but still principally her’s, yet it did not seem too terribly bad. not when she danced and laughed and drank under the moonlight and the brightly lit chandeliers, not when he held her hand in his and kept her close. maybe, just maybe, this might be enough. maybe she could get used to just this.

but soon the guests start to tire, dropping off one by one to their own country estates, until there was only the two of them left. she looked at him then in the dim light of the hallway between their palatial rooms, fingers intertwined with his as the words that came out of her mouth were soft and hazy.

“don’t go-- stay.”

perhaps it was the alcohol mixed in with the look in his eyes that had made her brave, but her fingers tugged on his and he followed. there was a little smug twist of his lips that she quite like to erase, and even before her feet stepped into her rooms that she did just so; by leaning up and putting her lips on his. the quirk in the corners of his mouth were frozen for a split second, and catherine could feel his heartbeat in the back of his neck as her fingers found their way there. he crowded her with one step, winding his arm around his waist and the other pushing the door open behind her back. it was in the safety of her rooms did she pull back, a childish smile -- perhaps accompanied by a laugh -- threatening to consume her features, for catherine stuart had found herself enjoying kissing her intended! who ever thought the day might come? certainly not her.

the laughter died on her lips as she was picked up off her feet, his lips upon her own with a new sense of urgency that she slowly came to love. thankfully, he managed to back himself up onto a sofa, as she unceremoniously, uncharacteristically, hiked up her dress so that she might straddle him between her thighs. her breath caught in her throat when they parted for a breath, his eyes boring into her’s as her fingers found either side of his shoulders, wondering blandly if they could go back to being so blasé around each other after that night.

“did i neglect to mention how beautiful you look tonight?”

she pursed her lips, feeling the moment slip through her fingers even as her fingers trailed up the side of his face to hold him against her palm.

“you don’t have to go through the compliments to get to my good side, you know. we’re already engaged.”

“no, i know. but i just think that it needed to be said, surely.”

catherine had to kiss him for that admission alone, and the taste of his lips lingered even after she pulled away.

“has anyone ever told you how beautiful you look?” she retorted, almost fiendish in her attempt to deflect the attention away from her own vanity. but she remained under the gaze of his eyes, and it had somehow made her entire body warm enough to make her shudder.

“yes, of course, more times than you think.”

she laughed out loud then, and he followed suit, letting his hand comb the wayward strands of gold that fell into her eyes. it was with shameless pleasure did they stared at each other, grins upon lips and laughter just nearly bubbling through. the alcohol had given them permission to do what curious hearts only had the courage to consider, she kissed him once more on the lips, as if she’s been made to do just that.

“i can get used to this.”

her hand came down to smack him playfully on the shoulder, and he smiled against her lips, leaning up to bring her impossibly close -- a breath caught in her throat. there was an unplaceable look in his eyes that made something constrict -- almost painfully -- in the pit of her stomach. suddenly her fingers were pushing his suit off of his shoulders, and his hand undid the impossibly tiny clasps of her dress better than she ever could. but catherine’s mind went to overdrive, the way her mind tends to do, and flashed a million nasty outcomes that might arise from their current situation. chasing pleasures without a thorough examination of the logic and efficiency wasn’t at all common for someone like her. it was almost impossible. she was by no means a good girl but rather, a sensible one, and sensible girls do not do this.

“we shouldn’t.”

“hm?”

“we’re... drunk,” she was faltering now, face pink with embarrassment. “we don’t want things to get awkward.”

( because the work of power and governance was more important than this, that their ambition still had higher walls to climb )

-- or let her overthink their entire relationship into the corner, making them unsalvageable at best. he opened his mouth to speak, before closing it again, a sort of resignation in his eyes that almost made her choke back her words and ignore her overthinking. but she did the very opposite, stepping back onto her feet and keeping a hand on her dress to stop it from falling off. already, her mind chanted that ‘everything is alright’, that they’ll ‘be better off tomorrow’, that it was ‘just the alcohol’. ( even though she could still feel the phantom touch of his fingers in her hair, and his slow smiles against her lips ). her heart screamed something unfathomable.

so catherine mumbled something about taking her makeup off, and getting into her pyjamas before scampering off into her en-suite. the woman that stared at her from the mirror did not look like her, all flushed with thoroughly kissed lips, she could almost hear her thundering heart in her ears.

( it was a few minutes later when she resurfaced, eyes still bright, did she realise that he had left. although really, what else did she expect? )

#c:haracter study #(andrew beaufort)#dont read this i'm just vibing ok #its real long 1.4k long ugh #tldr they awkward now #has this been sitting in my drafts since december??? yes

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punkscowardschampions · 4 years

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Tommy & Meena

Tommy: All my tutus better be accounted for, like Meena: 😅 Meena: Not to engage in the bitchy showbiz stereotype Meena: but your size is not the size of the 3-7s Meena: and I don't need to rock one from the sidelines, sadly Meena: I did ask Tommy: Calling me fat & not inviting me out for juice? Oh it be like that, yeah? Meena: Never! Meena: The totally casual impromptu photoshoot would have you believe I had longer than 5 minutes to neck it down, I know Tommy: Not even in there with the 3-7s & already a savage Tommy: good luck to 'em Tommy: None to you Tommy: Who hasn't sacrificed their final mins to look fabulous? Standard, full supported fare Meena: They are hilarious Meena: some of them are SO serious though, reminds me of you Tommy: I could fire the same call out back at you Tommy: not least 'cause you're teaching in the holibobs Meena: How could it possibly be a call out? Meena: you'd have to be to get into the school you did Meena: I'm only teaching for the same reasons I 🩰 in the first place, for fun Meena: that's 🤓 at best Tommy: We started claws out Tommy: but I'll play nice & tell you to break a leg Tommy: just don't let the kids have too much fun, be a health & safety nightmare 🦺🤓 Meena: 😱 Meena: remind me never to be in the play-that-shall-not-be-named with you (as if), 'cos you'll be dropping the M 💣 like it's no thing Meena: as long as they look cute for their ma's and none of them cry, I think I get a 🥇 Meena: just a favour for Anne honestly, who has overstretched herself (not an awful pun, I 🤞) as per Tommy: Tights are a given for 🤩👏🌹 but my mastery of a Scots accent less so Tommy: I'll drop the M word like it's a 🔪🩸 to distract from my flaws, no problem Tommy: my sister witches & I love a curse Tommy: Oh dear Anne 😔 Meena: Are you more of a 🌈 or a 🐀 man? Meena: Yes, I noticed, there were some definite signs of voodoo in their room Meena: her daughter is meant to help her out now she's older but she never does 🤷 Tommy: 😂 is that a trick question? Tommy: Gutted I haven't found a club called the 🌈 passage yet Meena: 😳 Nooooo Meena: ew, what would 🐀 man even entail, gross Tommy: I mean, I've been asked if I'm a friend of Dorothy in loads of ways but now that's my new fave Tommy: I don't reckon you're ready for 🐀 man, maybe work up to it from 🐁 boy Meena: Oh God 😰 If only I was that witty and not just a nerd 😅 Meena: very nutcracker Tommy: Don't make your 📚🖋 sound 💀 dull before I've even read one Tommy: Julie Andrews would not approve Tommy: Witty & pretty & bright Tommy: it's the only way Meena: It's not Shakespeare Meena: so that's either a 👍 or a 👎 depending upon your literary persuasion Meena: not 🌈 Meena: though arguably 🐀men and 🐁boys hate the bard, well known fact so Meena: The thought of letting her down is 😿 Tommy: Loads of people find Shakespeare confusing Tommy: I like good, strong words that mean something Tommy: & I don't reckon they'd let 👑 Julie down, she seems like she'd be a fan herself Meena: Even if my plots get a little too convoluted or my dialogue doesn't quite reach passing for reality Meena: it's no Tudor English or iambic pentameter so 🥇 Tommy: 'Course you can take it as a win if you don't need a full glossary in the back Meena: or modern translation on the next page Meena: that'd be a sick burn Tommy: My ma needs a Scouse to understandable English translation hanging over her head Tommy: but you'll know that as you've been round Meena: I think I've got the basics down Meena: or she makes it more basic when she talks to me Tommy: Or she lays it on thick for me 'cause every dialect coach wants me to talk posh London as the starting line Meena: is sabotage mum cooler than stage mum? Tommy: probably depends how she feels about curses & broken legs Tommy: but it's a fresher take at least Meena: at least if you do, it's not her 💸 down the drain, just your time and effort Tommy: means I've got the basics down too, like Tommy: not her hard earned cash Tommy: never that Meena: Her basics are more fun that Ana's Meena: not saying a whole lot Tommy: she could have the good grace to be your step ma if she was gonna be so wicked Tommy: can't get the tropes these days Meena: she's not get the green paint out levels of bad Meena: the chores are cinderella levels Meena: but it's a big house and I'm grateful Tommy: Elphaba is well complex & a gay icon, neither of which Ana can claim Tommy: her wickedness & descent into insanity are totally understandable when you unlock her tragic backstory Meena: I'm just saying, don't get to work on the mini farmhouse to drop on her head Tommy: 🥱🙄 Meena: oh right, you're far too cool to do ANYTHING with your holiday now Meena: not even set decorating Meena: 🥱🙄 Tommy: is that a burn or is it the glare of my ⭐dom? I can't tell tbh Tommy: it isn't the heat of the Irish summer that's for damn sure Meena: you're strictly lead roles only now? Meena: oh, how you've changed Tommy: I'll never turn down a 👻 my ma & weird sisters would kill me Meena: so method Meena: I'll take tree #2 at this point Tommy: You'd be an amazing tree #2 Meena: *graceful bow of my branches* Tommy: you always were the best at keeping your révérence in character while the rest of us were over the 🌜 to be done Tommy: I expect nothing less Meena: even if that's a case or rose-tinted 🕶 Meena: *of Meena: I'm about everything being a little more pink Tommy: I can't decide if it's less hurtful being called a blind 🐁 or fat 🐀 Tommy: I'll get back to you Meena: At the risk of calling you sensitive...it's either that or I've got really rude in my old age 😅 Tommy: Both would be the rosiest Meena: 😊 Tommy: 🧠 Meena: Squidgy Tommy: if you want something to sink your 🦷🦷 into Tommy: 👛 Tommy: still pink Meena: Yours too? Tommy: Yeah Tommy: you don't own the 🩰👑 aesthetic Meena: This town ain't big enough for the both of us Meena: 🤠🔫 Tommy: Lend me those joggers and I'll lay down my weapons Meena: Sharing clothes should not still be an option Tommy: if you wanna keep body shaming Tommy: but there's no other real reason why not Meena: I'm talking my neverending growth spurts, not yours Tommy: measurements please Meena: am I not a lady? Tommy: are you? not for me to say Meena: I'm 5'10 1/2 Meena: too tall to pair in all the ways Tommy: not with me, honey Meena: You're old, too Meena: 🕞 for a lot of boys in my year to hit puberty 🙄 Tommy: I ain't thrown my back out yet, cheers very much Tommy: love the confidence Meena: wise old 🦉 eating all the blind 🐁 and fat 🐀 Tommy: the innuendos 🖋 themselves Tommy: love an old predatory 🌈 stereotype too Meena: okay, you're not THAT old Tommy: my 🦴 & 🦷 tell a story Meena: and what a 📚🖋 it shall be Tommy: don't get me started on my 👀 sight Tommy: look like an 👴 & I'll sound like one yelling at a ☁ Meena: thank god for contacts Meena: or being your partner would have been much scarier Tommy: I could do those old routines with my eyes closed Meena: Me too Meena: and backwards #humblebrag Tommy: 😏 Meena: stealing Ginger's words there, sadly Tommy: there's no such thing as an original idea, yeah? Tommy: what I go with when it's time to do choreo Meena: preach it and I won't feel as much of a fraud Tommy: You'll have been to church more recently than I have Tommy: it's her thing, right? 🙏 Meena: Being Catholic is not exclusively HER thing Meena: but she is remarkably good at it, yes Meena: 🎨 Tommy: not in this town or with that attitude Tommy: are you even 🍀 if you don't out devout each other tbh? Meena: she isn't even Meena: Brazilian and better than you 😘 Tommy: Again, not with that attitude Tommy: she's lived here years, like Meena: So has your Ma Meena: she's about as 🍀 Tommy: She's basically 💍 to one & doesn't possess the 🌈 urge to merge Tommy: it's stubbornness Meena: 🙏 to the choir Tommy: 🍻 Meena: didn't steal any of your beers, thank you Meena: just had a juice Tommy: We'd be having this out face to face if you had Meena: father's son Meena: I get it Tommy: ❌🥊 ✔🩰 Meena: that's definitely not original Meena: 😿 Meena: life story = stolen Tommy: Anne's no Julie Walters Tommy: but I've played him as a kid in the 🎶 Meena: Rude Meena: she 🚬 as much Tommy: Still? Tommy: ☠ Meena: Of course Meena: she doesn't try to have it out the window during classes anymore though, so that's progress Tommy: Talk about rose tinted Tommy: such good memories those Meena: They're the only ones I've got so Meena: I think so Tommy: When she has you back next, tell her that in this house we swear by 🚭 patches Tommy: might save a life Tommy: & give you a chance to make some more decent memories Meena: Noted Meena: I make memories just fine now Meena: but you only get one childhood Tommy: Peter Pan just made me 😢 anyway Tommy: What the fuck is that ending? Meena: The one we all get Meena: they told you in the first line Meena: All children, except one, grow up ✨ Tommy: No need to keep it in the family like that though Tommy: Fly though another window, Peter you heartbreaker Meena: The reason he showed up in the first place was to hear Wendy's stories about him Meena: she knew what she was doing telling her daughter about him Tommy: You go ahead & pass yours down but I'm just saying, I won't be encouraging my kids to run off with my first love Meena: No, silly Meena: she wanted him to come for HER, she thought she could still fly, still go with him Meena: she grew up without noticing, by accident, she didn't mean to Meena: that's why it's 😢 Tommy: Like I said Tommy: didn't need it girlsplained Meena: Do when you don't get it Tommy: Everyone knows she wanted Peter to come back for her Tommy: the thirst was real Meena: You're just being childish on purpose now Tommy: I'm saying probably don't let your kid go off with him when you know the same thing's gonna happen Tommy: that's bad parenting, like Meena: She doesn't regret it happening Meena: just because all children have to become adults doesn't mean deny them of the wonders of childhood, idiot Meena: get Jane on accounting instead of having adventures in Neverland, okay Meena: SUCH a Mr Darling, you, I had NO idea Tommy: Or get her a lad she can grow up along side & not have to 😢 at the window for Tommy: it don't have to be Neverland or bust Meena: Yes it does, he IS childhood, you don't get to take it or him with you Meena: Wendy took all the lost boys back with her, that didn't make her miss Peter any less Tommy: Our dog was a shit nanny I did alright out of it still Meena: Well, my brother was worse so I win Tommy: 'Cause I was your hot boy at the window Meena: Something like that Tommy: feels like flying to me Meena: When you remember. When you can. When it works. It's that easy. Tommy: I mean, it's less catchy than just do it ✔ but I don't hate it Meena: Take it up with Neil and Nike Tommy: crusades are for term time Meena: no cardboard sword or shield for you then Tommy: If I can't stab anyone with it, I don't want it Meena: okay, psycho Meena: no need to go that far to prove you've changed from the boy in the window Tommy: 😂 Tommy: if I have to be on stage, gimme a decent prop Tommy: not much to ask Meena: ... Meena: #diva Tommy: #reluctantboardtreader Tommy: Ro's a better actress & Ali's a better singer Tommy: I need something to mess about with to keep me standing still Meena: it must be rough, having talented sisters Meena: one thing I can't accuse Drew of Tommy: Nah, like you said, only get the one childhood Tommy: it made mine loads better Meena: Cute 😊 Tommy: Don't need to tell you Tommy: you know 'em as well as I do Meena: Yeah Meena: well enough that there's no need to disagree Tommy: feel free to hit me with a cardboard sword if you're gutted Meena: My insecurities in my own abilities don't make me lash out 👅 or 👊 Meena: could make a thinly-veiled reference to you in a story though so, consider yourself warned Tommy: other people are safe from mine, so there's no warning needed for you Tommy: not gonna challenge you to a dance off Meena: not in your holidays Meena: gotta rest Tommy: There'd be fuck all point doing it in term time Tommy: in a virtual one you could easily blame the lag Meena: You calling me a cheat? Tommy: pointing out how effortlessly you could Meena: You're meant to say I wouldn't need to Tommy: I don't need to say that Meena: Rude Tommy: It's a compliment Tommy: we both know you wouldn't need to cheat & even if you did, you wouldn't anyway Meena: Yes, but it was rude you weren't gonna say it Meena: but now you have so ha 😊 Tommy: Says you who wants me to rest up all hols like an 👴 Meena: You said it first, actually Tommy: Where? Meena: you called me out for working in the holidays Meena: which implies you ain't Tommy: what so if I ain't teaching I have to be resting? Tommy: oh please Meena: what are you doing? Meena: didn't 👀 you Tommy: [a selfie from wherever he's taken Rocky cos that's what I like to think he's doing since he wasn't there] Meena: figures Meena: almost definitely would've 👂 him Tommy: Yeah Tommy: my 🎧 only do so much Meena: He's so cute though Tommy: it's the 🦇👂 Meena: and the freckles Meena: and the gappy teeth rn Tommy: 🙄 good save with the 🦷🦷 comment Meena: ? Tommy: Come on, who else in my family has a face full of frecks? Tommy: they're both taken though Meena: oh please Tommy: 🥱 Meena: You don't need to tell me about people fancying your siblings Meena: story of my life Tommy: he's 💪 but what else is there to say? Meena: Are you expecting me to answer that? Meena: don't be weird Tommy: I'm saying it's not much of a story, long hair & a six pack Tommy: so I won't be telling you I fancy him Meena: I likewise fancy none of yours, freckled or otherwise Tommy: Lovely to clear that up Meena: 🤷 Meena: Okay then Tommy: 👌 then Meena: Really? Tommy: Yeah really Tommy: what else? Meena: Alright Meena: nothing Tommy: there's something Meena: Beyond not getting why you're being so snappy about it, there really isn't Tommy: I can handle an attitude check Meena: Are you alright? Meena: Bored...school-sick? Meena: doesn't sound right but you know Tommy: Bored is closest Tommy: but that doesn't sound right at the beginning of summer Tommy: at least we can blame Rocko, congrats to him Meena: The pressure to have the best summer ever!!! gets to us all Tommy: & for that we can blame the insta feed Tommy: love none of being my fault Meena: Sure we can think of something if you wanna feel that classic guilt to make you feel at home Tommy: 💭 gotcha Meena: not promising full 🧠 power to it Meena: am on costume duty so Tommy: I can't decently sew but I've never missed with a hot glue gun so Tommy: ✨ Meena: Yeah? Meena: That would actually be a big help Meena: talk to Ali, she had a million ideas, as per Tommy: 'Course Meena: Of course I just see the limitations of the vague 'Summer' theme I'm meant to follow, but she sees nothing but endless possibilities Tommy: sounds legit Tommy: I'm on my way back, no doubt she'll jump on me soon as I get through the door for all hands on deck Meena: Sorry and thank you in advance Meena: it was all I could do to convince her I had to get back to cook dinner so she is certainly in full project manager mode Tommy: it'll cure how schoolsick I am, we're always adding 🎀 or ✨ to something so it'll pass for something else more fabulous Meena: that's the spirit Tommy: if you can't turn a 👻 into a 👸 or vice versa you might as well fuck off home Tommy: does Anne want them full JonBenét Ramsey 💄👑👶 or is ALL on the costumes? Meena: Oh God Meena: thankfully she's not gone that crazy in her own old age Meena: JUST costume Meena: though some of the mothers see fit to attack them with lipgloss, hairspray etc but that's their own M.O. and we don't need to go there for 'em Tommy: Small mercy, like Tommy: does she have any lads this time? Meena: not in the 3-7s Meena: pretty sure there's a lad in the 7-12s though Tommy: Oh Anne Meena: not every lifetime a Billy Elliot comes about, clearly Tommy: way to not capitalise on my success Meena: um, okay bighead Meena: did you think you'd start a revolution in 🍀 with your talent, like Meena: calm down 😅 Tommy: The point is, literal poster boy material right here & she hasn't made a single one Tommy: 🚬 is an expensive habit Meena: ugh Meena: 🤫 Tommy: 😂 Meena: going to make a very unflattering poster of you when I get home Tommy: I can't wait to be tagged in the 📷 Meena: I'll just put 'em up 'round town Tommy: Ooh like a scavenger hunt Tommy: I knew I wouldn't be bored for long Meena: was vibing public smear but yes Meena: it can be that too, you're very welcome Tommy: trying to shame me again, I 👀 Meena: if the 🩰 fits Meena: ask yourself why Tommy: You're a Meenie, there's why Meena: 😏 Meena: been a long time since I 👂 that Tommy: I'll pull your hair next time I see you if you're feeling nostalgic Tommy: what are mates for, like Meena: Got all summer Meena: see if I get to that level, like Tommy: if the 🩰 fits Tommy: I know Meena: mine barely did Tommy: if you're gonna keep teaching, you'll need a new pair Meena: I know Meena: they're so expensive though Meena: and who knows Tommy: Anne'll have you back in a heartbeat Tommy: & there'll be a pair here that'll fit, my ma don't throw anything of ours away Meena: I don't know how she manages to live off what she makes Meena: never mind the idea of this being anything more than a favour Meena: the shoes will be a help though, I'm gonna pay for how small those ones were tomorrow Tommy: Sugar daddy Tommy: there's a definite twinkle in her eye Tommy: I'll get in the loft or wherever the fuck else when I get back Tommy: you're a [correct guess of the size of her foot because obviously] yeah? Meena: OMG Meena: to be her daddy he'd have to be at least 90 😂 Meena: ✔ Meena: Thanks, like, IOU Tommy: Don't worry about it Tommy: get me Anne's 💘 goss & we're even Meena: not taking up 🚬 to get in on those breaks but aside from that Meena: do my best Tommy: yeah, don't Tommy: I've heard somewhere it's ☠ Meena: 😏 Meena: not that dedicated to the ballerina lifestyle Tommy: I won't tell, that HARSH truth would break dear old Anne Meena: Somehow I don't think so Meena: no poster girl, like Tommy: she 📞 you, I'm still waiting by mine Meena: 💔 Meena: she knows you're far too busy being a 🌟 to recruit Tommy: Yeah yeah Meena: You know she'd be beyond over the 🌙 to see you Tommy: I'm not twirling in to take your job Tommy: how out of order Meena: sounds like you have trouble controlling 1 kid Meena: never mind a class of Meena: not scared Tommy: he's my brother, he's feral Tommy: & you're rude Meena: he's feral because he's YOUR brother orrrrrr Meena: and I am not! Tommy: if the 👂s fit Tommy: have you forgotten what I was like OR? 'cause if you're trying to be polite, you've misjudged the timing Tommy: & yeah you are Meena: I'm not sure feral is the word I would use for you now or then Meena: you can interpret that as politely or im as you wanna Tommy: He's obviously not following in my exact footsteps then, 'cause who could Tommy: only you Meena: we were good partners Meena: 🤠 Tommy: 🏆🥇🥈🏆 Tommy: I'll dust 'em off when I 🩰 hunt Meena: you'll need several feather dusters Meena: 👴👵 Tommy: or a well flamboyant sleeve Tommy: 😏 Meena: very romantic of you Tommy: when you're having your goss sesh with Anne, the tea is that I didn't wear 💄 in public until I was nearly 12 Tommy: it'll help her control those 👶🤡 urges Meena: there's nothing summer about sweating off stage makeup Meena: poor babies Tommy: 🥀 Tommy: not the vibe Meena: definitely not Meena: not a fun sponge, they can have as much glitter as they like Meena: but full glam on a toddler ain't it Tommy: Thank Christ for the shared sanity Tommy: some of 'em at school would put full glam on a 🐶🐱🐰🐹 Meena: 🙄 Meena: it makes sense for the West End Meena: but the stage in the community hall is not that far from the what, room for 50-100 sitting? Meena: 🤡 features not necessary to see the facial expressions Tommy: Mmmhmmm Meena: when will I see you on stage then? Tommy: West End or community hall? Meena: 😅 Meena: former, obviously Tommy: Like I said, reluctant boardtreader Tommy: I only do the acting school makes me do Meena: yeah, but lots of shows must have some dance roles, right? Tommy: They do & I do 'em as & when Tommy: Billy Elliot already having been mentioned, like Tommy: I've got loads of auditions ✎ in this summer for all kinds of things Meena: well, let me know next time, will you Tommy: 'Course Meena: trying to keep your 🌟 secret or your fam from the audience, like? Tommy: Don't reckon having my ma in the front row would let me really shine, do you? Meena: I see where you're coming from Tommy: I can do without Fraze taking the piss about every role I don't get, like he understands the odds, as well Tommy: but if you wanna come, you can come Meena: like it's not one of the most competitive markets 🙄 Meena: so many people never get a role, like Tommy: he likes being a shit to be one Tommy: the role he was born to play Meena: yeah Meena: sounds familiar Tommy: gimme 2 more sisters over either brother Tommy: even if they were better 💃💃 Meena: wouldn't know Meena: source material varies on how fun that would be Tommy: 'Course it does Tommy: can't get the backup when I need it Meena: I'm 🤔 Meena: unless you're part of a twin duo of sisters, it's usually presented as more 🥊 than 💖 Tommy: Jo & Amy, not Jo & Beth Tommy: I've got Bea & Ro as well as Ali, I get it Meena: That about sums it up Tommy: I'd still take 'em over my brothers, know you can relate Tommy: Hell, I'd take the mystery sister we don't talk about & I've never met, over Fraze Tommy: there's a 📚💡 for you Meena: definitely 🖋 worthy Tommy: 👍 Tommy: [pictures of like all the trophies and other stuff he is finding as baby dancer mems cos he's back home] Tommy: more inspo Meena: Obviously, if this were any story, she'd be a teacher at your school Meena: 💃genes Tommy: she could be Tommy: I wouldn't know Meena: I bet most of your teachers are Anne types though Meena: so, too old, and not a hint of resemblance Tommy: Loads of 'em are young & 💪 so I love the added incentive not to 😍 a teacher Meena: you wouldn't anyway Meena: not a guy, a sister Tommy: I'll let you know if I run into her in 🌈 passage Meena: might be a coincidence too far Tommy: AHa! 🩰 Tommy: when do you need these? Meena: 🙏🙌 Thursday, but Ali and Ro said they'd come to do measurements then so you can throw 'em at 'em Tommy: Am I not invited? Meena: Are you coming to steal my spotlight? Tommy: I'll go hang with Carly if you can't handle our ⭐️🌟✨ Meena: her plans sounded like they involved 😴 Meena: 10am class was not her preference, I don't think Tommy: 🧸😪💤 Tommy: I can work with that, rest, yeah? Meena: I don't think you were invited there either Meena: you should probably come Tommy: she's not as savage as you Tommy: who is, like Tommy: but alright, Meenie Tommy: check your attitude by thurs & I'll come Meena: oof! 😤 Tommy: I'll teach you this counting trick Fraze used to have to do when he was lil Meena: I know how to count Meena: key 💃 skill Tommy: the whole way to 10?! WOW Tommy: I thought you just 👀 me Meena: 😒 Meena: you're very rude Tommy: 😂 Tommy: you're adorable Meena: you sound like my brother now Meena: not a cute look Tommy: what am I if not the big brother you should've had? Tommy: fairy godbrother is going a bit far, like Meena: We've established I'm alright for 'em Meena: you're not getting a free sister here Tommy: 🥺 Meena: 😠 very mean very serious Tommy: I realise I'm gonna have to drag you away from Anne, she's hardened you Tommy: you used to be like 🍦 Meena: melts in the ☀ Meena: so ideal Tommy: melting wins 🏆🥇🥈🏆 remember Meena: all my 🏆🥇🥈🏆 live in your loft, or wherever your mum keeps the precious memories Tommy: you don't have any of 'em? Meena: a few 🥇🥈s Meena: my room's not a shrine to past victories or anything as tragic Tommy: I'll bring you one of the smaller 🏆 you can put a 🌱🌿 it'll be very chic Meena: That's student decor 101, is it? Meena: 👍 cheers, though Tommy: at my school it's full shrine, past, present & future Tommy: so I left mine at 🏠 Meena: just another competition Tommy: Yeah Tommy: I don't need to be surrounded by 🏆🥇🥈🏆 to know I need to go for gold Tommy: it's a scholarship requirement Meena: no need to get in a pissing contest with the kid who's been Simba for 3 runs, like Tommy: I'd be a FANTASTIC 🦁👑 Tommy: but if they have to 👀 at my decor to know it, I'm fucking up somewhere Meena: is this a bad time to tell you you aren't black Meena: can't say it's unfair on that specific casting Tommy: I learned the hard way when I performed that rap, cheers for letting me by the way Tommy: best friend goals that day Meena: it was Meena: very creative Meena: who am I, was I, to stomp out that spark 😏 Tommy: 🔪💖 Meena: 😂 Meena: oh god, hope your mum kept evidence of that Tommy: she did Tommy: my 🧢👟 styling was unforgettable before I even opened my mouth Meena: if you wanna beef with Anne, start with the hip-hop dance classes Tommy: Jesus Tommy: what a time Meena: So innocently problematic Tommy: You should write about Anne Tommy: she's lived a life Meena: I have Tommy: so if I trade you the rap footage, can I read it? Meena: Hmm Meena: tempting but Tommy: come on, what's more embarrassing than 👶 Vanilla Ice? Meena: my writing being nothing more than scribblings, potentially Meena: I don't really share it Tommy: I'm not asking you to insta it & tag Anne Tommy: Please Tommy: I'll be a perfect 😇 about it Meena: Okay Meena: but it's as serious as your rap career so no serious criticism please Tommy: you're the best, Meeps Tommy: & I'll be on my best behaviour Meena: Believe it when I see it, slim shady Tommy: maybe you'll 👀 it when you believe, Wendy Tommy: living for that compliment though tbh Meena: couldn't risk biggie Meena: as you're feeling so #fatshamed today Tommy: 😂 Tommy: & you don't wanna go for 🍦 Meena: Where did I say that Tommy: When you gave me a weather forecast Tommy: #notideal Meena: that was about melting myself, thank you Meena: no offer was made Tommy: let's go for 🍦 then!! Meena: !! SO AGGRESSIVE Tommy: !! I'M STARVING Tommy: & unlike Rocko I've got all my 🦷🦷🦷 & they're all sweet 🍬🍭🍦 lovers Meena: I know Meena: not as cute but more #relatable Meena: I have to finish dinner but then I can go Tommy: making it or eating it? Meena: I'll just make it Meena: don't want to spoil my 🍦 Tommy: 🙂 am I cute yet? Tommy: 😁😁😁 Tommy: 🦷✨ Meena: do you have all your stickers from the dentist still too? Meena: massive show-off Tommy: if she could've peeled 'em off & saved 'em, they'd be here Meena: so cute Meena: if I'm ever feeling suicidal I must bring it up Tommy: one word for it Tommy: & one exit strategy Tommy: suicide by bad cop Meena: suitably theatre of me? Tommy: I support it Meena: your support means SO much, obvs Tommy: 💐👏 Meena: throw 💎💰 please Tommy: I'll raid the dressing up & monopoly boxes Tommy: bear with Meena: ooh bagsie thimble Tommy: I remember Tommy: actually am best friend goals here Meena: obviously you want the dog, but you have to fight your dad for it Tommy: I'll end up with the 🎩 Tommy: can't escape the 🤩 Meena: it suits Meena: who ends up with the boat though? Tommy: Ali if she can customise it to look more like a pirate ship Meena: so Ro gets the wheelbarrow Meena: makes sense Tommy: She loves The Secret Garden Tommy: then & now Meena: I support that Tommy: 🤞 you'll support how it influences her 💡s for your summer theme Meena: it's definitely more spring to go full 🌷 🌹 🥀 🌺 🌸 🌼 🌻 Meena: unfortunately Meena: 🐙 🦑 🦐 🦀 🐡 🐠 🐟 🐬 🐳 🐋 🦈 is a bit 😬 Meena: seashells and mermaids is most likely what we'll go with and what the girls and the ma's will like best Tommy: I know we're all 💔 over the cliches Meena: it's basic but workable Meena: you will have to reign them both in or it'll be 😬 or worse Tommy: I can do bad cop Tommy: uniform optional Meena: 😂 Meena: not swoon worthy Tommy: are any of 'em? Tommy: not to personally shut down uniformdating.com Tommy: but like Meena: nurses not do it for you? Meena: or firefighters Meena: army men Tommy: okay I'll give you 🔥 men Meena: See Meena: something for everyone Tommy: 👌 hothoses.com or whatever can stay up Meena: ewwwwww Meena: shh Tommy: 😂 Meena: you're still sweet and innocent Meena: leave my memories as they are Tommy: 👶😇 Meena: more like it Meena: 👀 you Tommy: you're gonna see me covered in melted 🍦 that'll be more like it Tommy: not knocking any 🦷🦷 out though Tommy: line has been drawn in the sand Meena: that's fair Meena: I said 🚭 Meena: we're even Tommy: 🤝

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howtohero · 5 years

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#271 Adorable Evils

Close your eyes (or else) and picture what you imagine to be the face of evil. There are probably horns, fangs, blood red eyes, maybe a cool scar. You can’t really be faulted for thinking like that. Most evil entities have one or more of those facial features, but how many times have we told you not to buy into stereotypes or your preconceived notions! As a superhero you need to understand that evil comes in all shapes and sizes. Sure, sometimes its a blood red, 20 story tall, demon king, but other times evil is small and round and has giant eyes and makes little squeaky noises. Sometimes evil is, frankly, adorable.(Oh, you can open up your eyes again whenever.)

It’s true though, there are a lot of evil creatures, entities, and people out there who have just the cutest exteriors you could ever imagine. Take, for example, the Snuggle Wugglians from the war torn planet of Mrŋ. They’re cute little multi-colored fluff balls and, by some freak quirk of reality, their harshest curse words sound remarkably similar to English’s “I love you”. From the looks of them you would never imagine that they were there sector of the galaxy’s fiercest warlords. But we can assure you that they are. If you find one separated from its brood, do not take it home as a pet. And certainly do not bring it into school for show and tell and expose it to the other students. Snuggle Wugglians are savvy enough to know that most cultures find them absolutely adorable and they will use that to manipulate people, especially children, into during their evil evil bidding.

It is important never to let your guard down around an adorable evil. Cute does not mean helpless, though trust me, they’re going to try to convince you that it does. Cute villains know how to capitalize on their cutesy countenances in order to gain the upper hand in a fight. You can’t go easy on them though. That’s how you get killed. Don’t fall for their fake tears, or puppy dog eyes. (Sometimes it’s literally going to be an adorable puppy, but you cannot let that stop you from bringing them to justice! That adorable puppy is a murderer. He is decidedly a bad boy.) And do not fall for the old “pwease stop punching me mister. I just want to go home and take a nappy,” routine. We all want to go home and take a nappy! That doesn’t mean you get to get away with doing crimes!

One of the most common types of adorable evils you’re going to encounter is the evil baby. Yes, it’s true. Babies can be evil, and evil aliens can look exactly like Earth babies, and Earth supervillains can undergo reconstructive surgery so that they look like babies for some reason, or their bodies can be de-aged while their minds remain lucid and evil, or they can just be regular babies who are shockingly quick studies in the art of evil. No matter what kind of evil baby you’re facing, the mechanics are petty much the same: Don’t get hung up on the fact that they’re a baby. Sure, it might seem very very evil of you to drop kick a baby and send them to prison but that’s exactly the mentality these evil babies want you to have. Being a baby is a huge asset for supervillains because they expect you to go easy on them. You can’t allow that to happen. Don’t play right into their adorably doughy hands.

Once you get over the fact that they’re literally a baby, defeating them should be pretty easy. Babies are not strong. Their only real asset is being adorable. You can probably just scoop ‘em up and walk them over to the nearest police precinct or whatever. Actually, hm, probably the police won’t arrest a baby. Probably the legal systems of our world are not complex enough to deal with the existence of evil babies. These evil babies are probably just going to get off scot free! (Oh god the humanity!) Not on our watch! You need to make sure these evil babies don’t get released to commit more crimes. You need to throw these babies into an extra-dimensional prison/daycare center where they can be held until they look old enough to be thrown into a regular Earth prison. Perfect, problem solved. Just call up an extra-dimensional prison contractor in your neighborhood and don’t tell them what you need the extra-dimensional prison for.

Adorable evils tend to have an easy time infiltrating high-security locations. Nobody suspects a cute little bunny of being up to anything nefarious. (Honestly I don’t know why, there has been at least one evil bunny related incident every month since I was born.) They’re often able to come and go as they please from most places, and people often talk freely in front of them with little regard for confidentiality or sensitivity. You cannot make those same mistakes. If ever you’re in a high-security location, such as government building or a superhero headquarters and you see a random, unattended baby, you need to assume that that infant is in fact a dangerous supervillain. Now, if this evil baby is worth its salt it knows not to give up the act just because one superhero is suspicious. So be prepared for the baby to cry or soil itself when accosted. But do not become disheartened! You are doing the lord’s work by getting rid of this baby! Pick the baby up and toss it out a nearby window! It’s only move was infiltration through lovability and you’ve shown it that it can’t get away with that anymore. Once it’s ejected it’ll probably just give up and slink off back to its giant ice cream cone shaped lair or hop into its stroller shaped getaway car. (Wait, can babies even eat ice cream cones?) No but remember they’re not a real baby! They are the very picture of evil!!!!!

Honestly, you’re just better off being on guard whenever anything adorable is nearby. If you take away these babyfaced baddies’ element of surprise they’re left with pretty much nothing. (Except for like a rattle shaped ray gun or a teddy bear that turns into an actual bear). So remember, being a good superhero means always giving babies side eye and never leaving adorable kittens alone with sensitive information. Now that you have this important information at hand you’re truly ready to be the best superhero you can be, so get out there and punch! Some! Babies!

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scotianostra · 5 years

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On July 29th 1567 King James VI was crowned at Stirling.

Picking up from last wednesday's post when Mary was forced to abdicate, the powers that be wasted no time in getting the formalities over and crowning the 13 month old son of Lord Darnley. The last time James saw his mother, Mary was in 1567, when he was barely a year old.

Because of his young age a regent was appointed to act as head of state. In fact, during his minority a succession of regents were chosen to rule in his stead.

The first regent was Mary’s half brother, James Stuart, Earl of Moray, Upon the Earl’s death in 1570, Matthew Stewart, Earl of Lennox, who was James grandfather, became the second regent. His regency didn’t last very long, as he died in 1571. The third regent was James’s guardian, John Erskine, the first Earl of Mar whose regency also didn’t last long, he died in 1572. The fourth and last of the regents was the very powerful James Douglas, Earl of Morton.

In spite of his mother’s Catholic faith, James was brought up in the Protestant religion. He was educated by men who had empathy for the Presbyterian church. His marriage to Anne of Denmark (a protestant country) no doubt pleased his Protestant subjects.

James VI is said to have had a terrible childhood, much like his forebears, including his great-grandfather. He had been used and abused by his tutors who were just looking to someone to manipulate and to mold into their little puppet. He was then told that his mother was the most horrible person in the world to the point that he did not know what the truth was anymore. When he was a teenager he became very independent and learned to hide his feelings very well but he also started working for his mother’s release, although some historians dispute this.

He was vocal in his opposition for his mother's trial and subsequent execution and I even read that James was "Desperate for his mother's life". He even destroyed the casket letters in 1584, which although may confirm that they may have had actual proof against Mary, was definitely a move so that his mother can rest in peace after her death and that her memory and legacy will stop being trashed and disgraced because of the letters.

Who knows what really went through his mind. Did he really care about her? Or was he was just looking to release her because he was worried that her execution and her bad reputation would also affect him and his chances to get the throne? There is some reason to believe this last one because Fontenay, the French Ambassador, noted that whenever James talked about his mother, he never “inquired anything of the queen or of her health, or her treatment, her servants, her living, and eating, her recreation, or anything similar.” And how could he when he never knew her and the people who raised him kept telling him ugly stuff about her? To those that were closest to the young King, his mother was the devil incarnate.

Whichever was, Elizabeth I was never going to release Mary Queen of Scots anytime soon and she must have made this very clear because the following year in 1585, when James was 19, he agreed with her decision to keep his mother in prison and even called Elizabeth “Madame Mother”. Imagine how this made Mary feel,her only son, the only hope she had to get free, calling her jailer ‘mother’. It was at this point that she started looking for other means to be released. Ultimately we know they all failed.

I didn't really want this to turn into another post about Mary, but she is so involved in the history of it all she will inevitably turn up time and time again. Anyway more on Young james.......

King James was tutored by George Buchanan and Peter Young. He was a dedicated student and by the age of 8 he was fluent in French, Latin, Greek, and English. This stern upbringing would inspire him to appreciate the arts and sciences and encourage the learning of them all throughout his reign, the King once remarked, that he could speak Latin before he could speak his native Scots. Because of his linguistic capabilities, King James typically did not need a translator when conducting business with other heads of state. King James grew into a powerful king with a powerful pen--he had peace at home and abroad, something few of his ancestors could dream of. His motto was His motto was "Beati Pacifici,"--Blessed are the peacemakers, not to mixed up with -Blessed are the cheesemakers, which of course came from The Life of Brian! ;)

King James' great aspiration to be the first King of both Scotland and England was realized in 1603 upon the death of Queen Elizabeth. When he ascended to the English throne that year he had already been king of Scotland for 36 years. He was now known as King James VI of Scotland & I of England. This came with its own dangers, and of course one of the most famous plots in history, still remembered every November in is known as Guy Fawkes Night.

As a Scotsman ruling over the English, the King endured much racism and slander--especially from the once powerful English Lords and Ladies who he replaced with his Scottish countrymen. Unfortunately, many of today's historians look to the writings of hostile sources such as Sir Anthony Weldon and Francis Osborne as accurate descriptions of the king, nowadays we would say, Haters gonna hate!

The king wrote of his enemies: "They quarrel me (not for any evil or vice in me) but because I was a king, which they thought the highest evil, and because they were ashamed to profess this quarrel they were busy to look narrowly in all my actions, and I warrant you a moat in my eye, yes a false report was matter enough for them to work upon."

The thing with King James is he believed in the doctrine of the divine right of kings and the monarch's duty to reign according to God's law and the public good. This would be handed down to his son Charles I and then to Charles II leading to the loss of many lives during their reigns in The English Civil War,The Bishops Wars and of course The Killing Time.

As a lover of the theatre, King James became patron to the troop of one of his most famous subjects--William Shakespeare, the playwright. Shakespeare's troop came to be known as the King's Men. Shakespeare and the King held a special relationship as they both loved literature. It is said Shakespeare wrote his famous play, "Macbeth" specifically for King James. The "Scottish Play" as it is known in theatrical circles may well be one of Shakespeare's most famous plays, but when you look at the real history of Macbeth, the play was basically The Braveheart of it's day!

Afew other facts surrounding James and his legacy, the US Jamestowne is home to the ruins of the first permanent English speaking settlement in the country, and named in his honour.

To this day the translation of the bible he ordered is known as the Authorized King James Bible. He appointed 54 men to the committee who were not only the best linguists and scholars in the kingdom, but in the world. Much of their work on the King James Bible formed the basis for our linguistic studies of today.

King James had a life filled with accomplishments but he was a man acquainted with grief. He was a sickly man who had physical handicaps in his legs and allegedly a tongue that was too large for his mouth! As a result of his unsteady gait, the king had numerous falls, accidents and injuries. He suffered from crippling arthritis, abdominal colic, gout, inability to sleep, weak/spasmic limbs, nausea, frequent diarrhea, and kidney pain. Some believe that he may have had congenital diseases of the nervous system. Sometimes the pain was so great that the king became delirious.

To add to his ill-health, the James it is thought suffered from depression from the death by his eldest son, Prince Henry in 1612 and his Queen in 1619. James VI was no stranger to pain and sorrow.

I didn't set out to put a long post like this together sometimes they just happen, King James VI & I died on March 27th , 1625 at Theobalds Park in Herts, England. He was 58 years old when he died and had been King of Scotland for most of those years, as well monarch of England for 22, he was buried at Westminster Abbey.

Unlike many Scottish monarchs, King James died in his bed at peace with his subjects and foreign countries. He also passed royal power on, intact, to an adult son which was also quite unusual.

#Scotland #scottisih #The Stewarts #cooking #monarchy #History

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bee-kathony · 6 years

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Midnight Kiss | Ch. 1 “Glitter On The Floor”

a/n: Happy New Year! This is a 3 chapter mini-fic that will be finished on Saturday! I hope you enjoy a little something different for the holidays :)

December 31st, 2018

9:48pm

“Lady Jane!”

“Coming!” Claire slipped her heels on, careful not to trip over her pile of outfit choices. She hadn’t had a night out in months and tonight was New Year’s Eve, the perfect excuse to drink a little too much.

Taking one last glance in the mirror, she deemed her unruly curls good enough and swabbed at her lipstick.

“LJ, are you comin’ or not?” Her best friend, Joe called from the door.

She smiled to herself and turned out her bedroom light. They were headed downtown somewhere in Edinburgh; a fancy hotel that Joe had heard of a good party.

“I’m ready,” Claire grinned, reaching for her favorite red coat in the hall closet. “You take forever, Joe. Come on, we’re going to be late!”

Joe laughed and ushered her out the door, “Claire Beauchamp would be late to a New Year’s Eve party.”

“I couldn’t decide what to wear,” she argued. “I didn’t want to look frumpy or plain.”

“LJ, you couldn’t look plain if you tried,” he winked at her. Joe was a good looking man, but they’d been friends for eight years — ever since they showed up early to their first day of medical school. Joe was also American, the only American in their intern class, just as she was the only Englishwoman. He was more like her brother, and he’d been the one that convinced her to come out with him tonight instead of spending the night in her PJ’s watching old Christmas movies.

“Thank you, Joe,” Claire smiled.

It was a ten minute UBER ride to the hotel and as Claire checked the time, she realized that her phone battery was on 23%. “Oh Jesus H. Christ… I forgot to plug my phone in.”

“Who do you need to call?” Joe looked over at her, “You’ll be with me the whole night, you can use my phone if you really need to make a late night call.”

“I’ve got no one to call anyways,” she sighed. “It’s fine, I don’t need it. It’s not like I plan to get anyones number this evening.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, LJ,” Joe grinned at her. “You could meet a handsome Scot and have your life changed forever.”

Rolling her eyes, she shoved her phone back in her small purse. “I highly doubt that. I’ve been living in Edinburgh for nearly eight years and besides Frank, no one has seemed interested.”

“Frank was a dick,” Joe said with no subtlety.

Her jaw dropped and Claire couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in her chest. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“I’m never wrong,” Joe smirked. “You just wait and see, I’ve got a good feeling about tonight.”

“If you say so,” she smiled.

When they arrived at the hotel, they left their coats at the front door where the attendant told them to go to the top floor.

“This place is so swanky,” Claire said as she looked around at the elevator decked with mirrors.

“I don’t just go to any party, Lady J,” Joe grinned and as the door opened, Claire’s eyes widened. The party was in full swing and it was decorated like the roaring 20’s — looking something like The Great Gatsby.

“C’mon old sport, let’s get some drinks,” Joe smiled at her amazed expression and tugged on her hand, guiding her through the crowd of people. The music was fitting as well, swing. The dance floor was covered with couples doing the Charleston and Claire was itching to try it.

“Two martinis,” Joe said to the bartender and then turned to Claire. “So, what do you think?”

She smiled, her eyes still grazing over the room, with golden lights cascading over the ceiling. “It’s wonderful, Joe. Thank you for bringing me.”

“Anytime, LJ, anytime.”

Claire took her drink from the bartender, sipping slowly. As much as she wanted to dance, she knew she would need a couple more drinks before anyone ever saw her out on that dance floor.

Twenty minutes later, Joe dragged her out — supplied with enough alcohol or not, he was making her dance.

“Let loose, Beauchamp! Throw your hands in the air,” he laughed and started moving his body to the music.

She was stiff at first, feeling self conscious, but as the music invaded her senses and the alcohol moved through her bloodstream, she lost all her inhibitions. Her attempt at the Charleston was poor, but she laughed, giving it her best shot. Claire hadn’t had this much fun in ages and thought she could dance all night.

A few songs later, the band said they were going on a break and would come back thirty minutes before midnight. Claire and Joe came off the dance floor, back to the bar with heaving chests and sweating brows.

“I didn’t realize dancing like that would be so intense!” Claire laughed, feeling exuberant.

“I bet your feet are killin’ you,” Joe observed, looking down at her shoes. “I’m glad I’m a man.”

“I quite like them,” she glanced at her feet, not the slightest bit bothered by them.

“They’re cute, I’ll give you that,” Joe smiled and then nudged her side, leaning in close. “Don’t look too obvious, but there’s a tall ginger man staring at you by the end of the bar.”

Claire turned her head to the right and spotted him. He was tall. Taller than most of the other people around him and his hair was in fact very ginger and curly, just like hers.

“I told you not to look too obvious, LJ,” Joe laughed.

“Well, I’m not going to crane my neck. Besides, if he’s looking then he should just come over and say something,” Claire smirked and took a sip of her freshly poured drink.

“Oh shit,” Joe mumbled. “He’s coming over, you got your wish.”

“What?” Claire’s heart started to race as she looked back over to where the tall man had been but he’d disappeared. When she turned to ask Joe where the man had gone, he’d disappeared as well. “Joe!” She did a 180 in search of her friend, but instead bumped into someone else.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Claire covered her mouth, looking at where her martini had spilled over the man’s shirt. When she looked up, she realized it was the tall red headed man from the end of the bar.

“Och, ’tis alright. At least it’s clear,” he chuckled. His Highland lilt was something to behold and while Claire had lived in Scotland for the last eight years, she never got tired of hearing that accent.

“I’m so sorry, I cannot believe I’ve spilt my drink on a stranger!” Claire laughed nervously and then reached for a napkin, dapping at his shirt. His chest was firm and his skin was warm. The man grabbed her wrist and she met his eyes again, this time nothing how perfectly blue they were.

“Dinna fash, lass. It’ll dry on it’s own,” his lips curved on one side.

Gulping, Claire placed the dirty napkin on the top of the bar. “Were you staring at me earlier?”

The man looked a little surprised to be called out, but then smiled, nodding his head at her question. “Aye, I couldn’t take my eyes of yer wee hair.”

“My hair?” Claire reached up to touch her curls and for the first time since she arrived, realized that her curls had fallen out of her bun and were strewn around her face. “Oh, because of how bad it looks?”

The man laughed again, a deep sound from his chest. “Nah, ’tis like a nest.” Claire’s eyes widened and his own bugged out, “Oh, no! I didn’t mean it looked like something animals lived in, just that it was big and inviting — Ifrinn!”

Claire twirled a curl around her finger, a small smile playing on her lips. “You think my hair is inviting?”

“What I mean to say is…” He smiled down at her and reached up to touch a curl on top of her head and she froze in place. “You’ve verra lovely hair, Sassenach.”

“Sassenach…” she repeated. “You’re full of compliments tonight aren’t you?”

“Och, please dinna take offense,” the man held up his hand. “I only was regardin’ ye bein’ English, nothing negative.”

“It’s alright,” Claire smiled. “I quite like it actually.” Holding her hand out, Claire felt something electric in the air between them. “I’m Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, it’s nice to meet you.”

His hand slid into hers and there was a spark that shot up her arm and straight to her heart. “James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser,” he grinned and then brought her hand to his lips, kissing the back softly.

“Och, ye’ve a bit of glitter in yer hair,” he released her hand and then she felt his fingers on her scalp as he removed some glitter, letting it fall to the floor.

“Are you here with anyone?” Claire asked.

“Aye, my sister Jenny and her husband. And my friend John, but they’re fine on their own for a bit,” he grinned down at her.

Claire glanced around the room quickly for Joe, but still didn’t see him. Jamie caught her looking and she hoped he didn’t think she was looking for a way out of their conversation.

“Are ye here wi’ anyone?”

She nodded, “My friend Joe. And he conveniently disappeared whenever you showed up.”

Jamie’s lips did that lopsided curve thing again and Claire’s stomach flipped. He was charming for sure and all she wanted to do was kiss his lips to see what they would taste like. As she looked into his eyes again, she had the vague thought that maybe he would be her midnight kiss.

“Would ye like to take a walk, Claire?”

What did she have to lose?

“Sure,” she smiled and slipped her hand through his proffered arm and followed as he lead them back through the crowd of people and out to the quieter hallway.

“Where are we going?” She asked as he hit the elevator button.

He flashed his brows, grinning. “’Tis a surprise, Sassenach.”

#midnight kiss #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #jamie x claire #mclairefras #chapter 1 #new years eve #glitter on the floor

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thehelleniclunarwitch · 5 years

Text

The Breakfast Club 01

Um, yeah, cuz ya know I don’t have enough crap on my plate. But here’s another au with the Hargreeves siblings.

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Y/n sat nervously in the chair inside of the principal's office. She couldn’t believe that she was already in trouble on her first day. Mr.Shaw looked through her file. Finally, he closed the file and looked up at Y/n.

“It’s your first day,” Mr. Shaw began.

“I know, sir,” Y/n said in a soft voice.

“Talking back to a teacher is one thing, but getting into a fight is another,” Mr. Shaw sighed.

“Mr. Peabody was allowing for another student not only call another student names but push her and grab her inappropriately!” Y/n growled.

“Mr. Peabody told me what had happened and his story varies from yours,” Mr. Shaw said.

“What about the girl? She’ll tell you,” Y/n argued.

“I will talk with Vanya Hargreeves later today. Right now we are concentrating on you,” Mr. Shaw said.

“Mr. Peabody wouldn’t stop him. He wouldn’t let me go and get a teacher that would actually do something,” Y/n hissed.

“So you took it into your own hands?” Mr. Shaw asked.

“It got him to stop, didn’t it?” Y/n countered.

Mr. Shaw sighed. “Y/n, dear, violence is never the answer,”

Y/n sat back with a huff. This guy was a complete idiot. She had asked the kid to stop on several occasions but he kept pushing and pushing. When he had sexually harassed her, Y/n had snapped. She pushed the kid away from Vanya. He pushed her back. Y/n had turned her back to him to check on Vanya and he had used that to his advantage to push Y/n. Y/n almost bust open her head as she had slammed into the wall.

After that, she had had enough. She turned around and socked the stupid kid right in his dumb face. She should feel bad about it, but she didn’t.

“I wouldn’t say that you have a squeaky clean file, but I’ve seen better and I’ve seen worse,” Mr. Shaw said.

Y/n crossed her arms over her chest. Mr. Shaw folded his hands and placed them over her file.

“Alright, I won’t suspend you like I should since it is your first infraction here in our school,” Mr. Shaw said.

“So?” Y/n asked.

“You’re not getting off scot-free, Y/n,” Mr. Shaw said.

“I figured not. What’s my punishment then?” Y/n asked.

“Saturday detention,” Mr. Shaw answered.

Saturday detention was barbaric and Y/n wanted to say so, but she wouldn’t because she knew she was getting off easy.

“Fine,” Y/n said between clenched teeth.

Y/n stood and grabbed her bookbag.

“Oh, and Y/n,” Mr. Shaw said.

Y/n looked back at her principal. “I’ll be keeping my eyes on you,”

Y/n nodded. “Right,”

Excusing herself from his office, Y/n disappeared into the hallway. She pulled her bag higher up her shoulder as she made her way towards her locker. Sixth period would be over soon. So Y/n would just take her time at her locker before heading to her last class of the day.

As Y/n rounded the corner she saw two people standing at her locker. Great. Just what she needed. Y/n stopped a little ways away from them.

“Excuse me, you’re blocking my locker,” Y/n said.

“Are you Y/n Y/l/n?” The girl asked.

“The one and only,” Y/n sighed.

“I’m Allison and this is my brother Luther. We’re Vanya’s siblings,” Allison said.

“Oh,” Y/n whispered.

“We heard what you did for her,” Allison began.

“And I wanted to thank you for having her back when we weren’t around,” Luther finished for his sister.

“Uh, okay, it’s not that big of a deal. I would have done it for anybody,” Y/n said.

“No, you don’t understand. Vanya gets picked on the daily. We usually take shifts in walking her to and from class,” Allison explained.

“Why haven’t your parents gone to Mr. Shawl?” Y/n asked in confusion.

“Our dad believes we should believe in fighting our own battles,” Luther growled.

“Right, okay, you’re welcome. I’m glad that I was there to help,” Y/n said.

“We hope your punishment wasn’t too severe,” Allison said.

“Saturday detention,” Y/n said as she opened her locker.

“That sucks,” Luther said.

Allison elbowed him. He grunted. Y/n chuckled.

“It’s okay. Not my first time in detention I’m sure it won’t be my last. Especially with these pathetic teachers and that idiot for a principal,” Y/n explained.

The bell rang.

“Again. Thanks, we appreciate it,” Allison smiled and then the pair were off.

Y/n shook her head and switched out her books and slammed her locker closed. She about had a heart attack when she found two more kids standing there staring at her.

“Uh, hi,” Y/n said softly.

“You the Y/n chick who saved Vanya?” One of them asked Y/n noticed he was rocking an amazing nail polish.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Y/n sighed.

“Thanks,” They both blurted.

“Um, you’re welcome,” Y/n said.

“She’s our sister,” The other one said.

“I’m Klaus. My brother Ben,” Klaus introduced.

“You’re Vanya’s brothers? Along with Allison and Luther?” Y/n asked.

“They’ve already come and seen you?” Klaus asked.

“Yeah, they just left,” Y/n said.

“We missed them,” Ben said.

“We’ll find them. Anyways, we just wanted to say thanks for having our sister’s back,” Klaus said.

“Again you’re welcome and it’s not a big deal,” Y/n said.

“To us, it is,” Ben said.

Before Y/n had the chance to say anything else the boys were on moving down the hall. Y/n blew out a breath and headed towards her last class for the day. She entered her AP English class and quickly took a seat in the back corner.

Thankfully the teacher didn’t make her stand up and talk about herself. He introduced her to the class as the new kid and then went straight into his lesson of the day. Y/n was doodling in her notebook when she heard a harsh whisper.

Y/n looked over to her left. A younger looking teen sat in the seat next to her. He was dressed up, his blue eyes pierced her.

“Yes?” Y/n whispered.

“Thank you,” The kid said.

“For what?” Y/n asked in confusion.

“For Vanya,” He said.

“Let me guess another brother?” Y/n asked.

He furrowed his brows. “How did you know?”

“I’ve met four others of you,” Y/n replied.

“Mr. Hargreeves. Miss Y/l/n care to share with the class what the two of you are discussing?” He asked.

“Just thanking Miss Y/l/n here for coming to my sister’s defense,” He replied.

“Fine, but next time save it for after class,” Their teacher returned his attention to the board.

Y/n slid a glance to the kid sitting next to her.

“Five,” He said holding out his hand.

“Y/n,” She replied shaking his hand.

Last class seemed to have last all day. After her last period, Y/n went back to her locker to grab her homework and then followed the crowd outside. She sighed as she stopped just in the doorway. Her watched the downpour. Of course, it would rain like this when she had to walk home.

“Need a ride?” A voice asked next to her.

Y/n about jumped out of her skin. She looked up and over to see a guy in all black standing next to her.

“Um, no, I’m fine,” Y/n said.

He eyed her. “Doesn’t look like you came prepared to walk in a downpour,”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Y/n sighed.

He snorted as he bit into an apple. “What do you say, let me give you a ride,”

“No thanks,” Y/n said.

“It can be seen as a payment,” He replied.

“A payment for what?” She asked, she was tired and just wanted to go home.

“I heard what you did for my kid sister,” He said.

Y/n’s head whipped over to look at him again. “Another Hargreeves kid? How many of you are there?”

He smirked. “I’ve heard you met the others. I’m the last one,”

“And just who exactly are you?” Y/n asked.

“Diego,” He simply answered.

“Well, Diego, I appreciate the offer, but I can walk. I don’t mind,” She told him.

“Are you dumb?” Diego asked.

Y/n sighed. “I’ve been told that before,”

“Listen, it’s not that big of a deal. I’m sure you’re on the way to the Academy,” Diego said.

“Academy?” Y/n asked in confusion.

Diego only smiled. “So do you want a ride or not?”

Diego nodded towards the motorcycle across the parking lot.

“Now how in the world is that supposed to keep me from getting wet?” Y/n asked in annoyance.

“Well, I suppose it won’t, but at least it will get you home sooner,” Diego offered.

Y/n rolled her eyes. She really shouldn’t be talking to him. He had trouble rolling right off him. But that bike was gorgeous and he was right she’d get wet but at least a quick bike ride would be better than a walk home.

“What do you say?” Diego asked pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Alright, I’ll take up the offer,” She said.

He smirked. He grabbed Y/n by the arm and then the two of them were jogging down the stairs and then running across the parking lot. When they reached his bike, Diego handed her his spare helmet. She pulled on the helmet and then waited for him to climb on.

Y/n slid onto the back of his bike. He looked over his shoulder.

“Hang on tight,” He said.

Y/n wrapped her arms around his waist. He patted her hands, he kept patting her hands until he was happy with the way she was squeezing him. Once she was settled Diego revved his engine and then pulled out of the parking lot. She yelled over his shoulder her address and he took a sharp left turn.

Diego pulled up in her driveway. Nobody was home. Y/n wasn’t all that surprised. She climbed off the back of his bike and pulled off the helmet. She handed him the helmet and he placed it on the back of his bike.

“Thank you, Diego,” Y/n said.

“No, thank you,” Diego told her.

“Right, will you do me a favor?” Y/n asked him.

“Sure,” Diego answered.

“Will you tell Vanya that I’ve been thinking about her today and hope that she’s okay,” Y/n said.

Diego nodded.

“Thanks,” Y/n said.

Diego sat, getting soaked to his core as he watched Y/n run up her front steps and under the safety of her porch. Once she had slipped inside, Diego backed out of the driveway leaving her alone.

Y/n tossed down her bag and headed upstairs. In her room, she stripped out of her wet clothes and quickly changed into a set of comfy clothes. Y/n wasn’t home alone long when she heard the front door open and her dad shouting for her. She knew that her dad would be upset about the detention, but she was hoping for that because it was for sticking up for somebody who couldn’t defend themselves he’d go easy on her.

“How was the first day, kiddo?” Dad asked.

“Well,” Y/n sighed.

“What happened?” He asked with a sigh.

“I got into a fight,” Y/n began.

Her dad only shook his head. Y/n quickly went into details about what had happened. She watched her dad’s face go from hardening and disappointed to soft and understanding.

“He groped her dad,” Y/n pointed out.

Her dad only nodded and continued to listen to his daughter’s first day as they worked around the kitchen together making dinner. Y/n made sure to leave out the teenie weenie small detail about being brought home on the back of the motorcycle. She didn’t want to give her old man a heart attack. She wasn’t that mean of a kid.

Tagged:

@ahhhhkeya @i-alyssa @hedwigmoss @les-bio-lie @dawnson-hargreeves @ryans-mad-queen @alysweets @hyradun @lollipopdomination@awesometheydontknowiamhere @buckyandstevegayornay @anotherfanficreadingblog @not-so-epic-iii @ampbian @liveitdoll @gerardwayslips @snazzydoesthings @gorgeourrific-nerd @olkathefoxi @umbrxlla-acxdxmy @soul-of-a-traveller @harrisbn@classyasssuperbitch @misspygmypie @officially-kendra-hargreeves@sithskywalkers @rose-01 @carryon-doctor-lock@ynm1505 @ampbian @i-am-a-smol-sweet-potato @klausbutgayer @love-chronicallyalice @5sos-wdw

#Diego Hargreeves #Klaus Hargreeves #Ben Hargreeves #Five Hargreeves #Vanya Hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves #Luther Hargreeves #The Breakfast Club #au #insert reader #fan fic

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