#....oh for fecks sake

[sentimental-androids]

@im-gonna-eat-your-eyes come get your torture devices /JJJ

Item: antique uranium-glass bottle stoppers. Why, what did you think they were

[perfectly-clear-from-here]

if life was perfect there would be a tranquility base hotel + casino film. send post.

[robynlilyblack]

Something Important

James Potter x fem! clumsy! Reader

Summary: After years of hiding that part of himself, James adores being unapologetically silly with his favourite girl

Warnings: swearing, post-hogwarts, established relationship, mentions of food, small cooking injury, eating and sex, reader bruises like a peach, kissing, flirty reader, flirty james, domestic fluff, sirius black being a terrible gamer

A/n: 1.8k words, was feeling a little James today, I've missed writing him so much I had fun with this one, enjoy ♡

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“Hi! Not someone breaking in, it's just me…y/n…you know…your girlfriend…but hopefully you already knew that! Sorry Jamie, this door…oh for fecks sake…the door is being mean to me again!” 

James chuckled along with his friends on the couch at your dumbs and whines at the door, putting his controller down he called back 

“You need help, my love?” he asks yet he’s already getting up and walking through as the door finally opens, unaware of his controller being swiped by Sirius, earning a small ‘oh no’ from Remus as he braces himself 

“No, no it’s okay…aw crap...dammit....come on...” you wave it off but then the door grabs you and you’re left trying to un-loop yourself from the handle, unfortunately it does get the better of you this time as you begin to fall, preparing for impact and one hell of a bruise to add to your already impressive collection

Luckily your knight in shining armour is there to catch you and you breathe a sigh of relief when you hit his chest “Hello my sweet” he greets you, the biggest smile on his face

You don’t even try to lift yourself up, just adjust your head, chin poking into his chest as you look up at him “Hello” you pout at him, but that lil smile of yours still peaks through “Our door is mean”

“It is” he agrees, pecking your lips sweetly before gently kicking the front foor with his foot eliciting giggles from you “Bad door” he chastises before turning his attention briefly to the living room door at the chuckling and mocking from his friends 

"You sure showed that door mate!" you hear Remus laugh

“Oh dear prongsie, now you have defeated the almighty door can you come save me from the couch, my arse has but fallen asleep!” 

"Shut it mr and mrs I can't get past the first boss to save my life" James rolls his eyes while you giggle at their offended in sync 'heys!' "Sorry ‘bout them love, don’t worry I’ll kick em out before dinner”

“Oh I assumed they’d be joining us?” you wonder

Something flashes behind his eyes “Not tonight hun” he gives you a flirty look “Tonight’s just for us” he tells you before helping you to stand properly, kissing the tips of his fingers before finding the section of your waist where you jumper got caught, rubbing it gently

You lean into his touch, even more excited than you already were for dinner tonight, all you had to do now was make sure James didn’t see too deep into one of the shopping bags, or he’d see the rather lacey treat you had bought earlier

“Come on sweetheart” James gestures for you to follow, instinctively grabbing the grocery bags that had been dropped during your battle and bringing them through to the kitchen, but not before kissing the side of your head first “I missed you”

“Ditto big guy” you throw him a wink, letting him take the lead

As you pass the living room you do poke your head in quickly to see what they had been up to, sniggering a little as you watch Sirius struggle with some muggle videogame, noting the boy is getting increasingly frustrated to the point even his boyfriend is a tad scared of him, hugging one of your pillows as if it’s to protect him.

As you enter the kitchen you watch as James lifts the bags you had struggled with home onto the counter with ease, eyes fluttering over his muscles, made more prominent by the tightness of his shirt

He’s so strong and dreamy

“So, what am I cooking for dinner?” he asks trying to discern what you actually bought before turning back only to find you unapologetically staring

He’d never admit it but he still blushed when he caught you admiring him

“Enjoying yourself?” he flexes his arm a little

Your eyes flick back up to meet him, nodding with a smug little smile “Very much, did you ask me something?” you wonder, stepping forward to join him properly

He chuckles, hand slipping around your waist “I asked what I was making for dinner?” he glances down at you, his own eyes doing a little wandering as he awaits your answer

“Actually…I was thinking I could make it for us tonight” you flashing a cheeky smile, hands finding his own, you were up to something

“What are you planing?” he eyes you teasingly

“Surprise” you sway back and forth, shrugging, ever effervescent, however, he’s called away before he could rangle any more information out of you as there's a yell from the other room

“Motherfucker!!! What the fuck was is that fucking thing…Moony darlin you seeing this shit!” 

“Oh yeah love I’m seeing it…Prongs!!”  

You burst out in quiet laughter over Sirius’' rage and Remus’ subsequent call for aid, as does James, betting his friend is almost certainly about to die…for the…bloody hell only Godric knows what time

“Crap he’s got the controller…I better go check in before Pads throws the controller again and actually breaks the tv this time” James lets out a breathy laugh, moving around you but stops before he lets go of your hand “You sure you’ll be alright?” he checks in, and when you nod he steals a quick kiss from you before he leaves…plus a cheeky arse squeeze

A couple hours pass by and it’s time for the other boys to go, just as James had finally convinced Sirius to leave without the game, sparing Remus from a premature heart attack, you appear in the doorway shouting a quick goodbye

“I love them but we are going to need to find less rage enducing…” James closes the door, locking up as he speaks but trails off as he turns around spotting your rather chaotic looking state “...did the kitchen fight back?” he can’t help the chuckle that bubbles

He takes a moment to cherish your appearance, it’s almost like a game to him, trying to figure out what you made him based on the ingredients adorning your clothes. The main culprit seems to be flour, your once black tights and skirt now littered with hand prints as you swiped them clean, though there were no new holes so little wins. He saw some littering of what he can only imagine is various spices on the ends of your rolled up sleeves…and one failed attempt in the centre of your jumper to open what he would later learn was cinnamon.

“I won though!” he’s pulled away from his admiring as you jump a little, excited as you waddle happily up to him 

“Merlin sweets you had anymore food on you you’d be a…ooo that’s good” he reaches out, thumb gently clearing the remnants of what seems to be a delicious creamy sauce from your cheek “What kind of cheese is this?” he enquires, licking his lips before finding your eyes but their lingering a little south of his own, basking in your reaction as he teases you, running his tongue along his lips

“I know you’re doing that on purpose…” your eyes finally break away, finding his own “...but don’t stop” you near beg

He laughs “Never” leaning down, one hand finding your chin, angling it upwards towards his lips while the other subtly removes what he now realises is a carrot from your hair “Now do you want to show me your masterpiece?” he nudges his nose gently against yours

“Yes” you buzz, practically vibrating with excitement as you take his hands in yours but as you do James notices the plaster on your hand “Hun?” you turn back 

“Aww sweetheart, what happened?” he brings your hand up, inspecting it before faux worry floods his handsome features “I’m so sorry my love but…” he takes a break, shaking his head “...we’re going to have to cut it off”

You match his energy “What!” you exclaim “Oh great heavens! Whatever will I do?” dramatically bringing you palm to your forehead 

James’ struggles to keep in character though, his heart always warmed when you were silly with him, it was times like these that made him absolutely sure you were the one for him 

“Hmmm” he rubs his chin in thought “There may be one way we can fix this but I have to tell you it’s a risky procedure”

“Do it, I’ll give you anything oh handsome handsome doctor” you clasp your hands together, pleading with him

He smirks “Indeed…I am a very handsome doctor, so I expect to be rewarded handsomely for my work” he informs you, wiggling his eyebrows

You purse your lips attempting to suppress your growing smile “Of course! Now please save my finger” you hold it up to him

He gently takes it with one hand, using the other to perform fake magic as mutters some fake incantation under his breath, throwing a wink your way before he presses his lips every so softly to your ‘mortal wound’ 

He gives your hand back and as he does you hold it up, bending your finger as you check it works “I’m cured!! It’s a miracle” eyes lighting up as you cheer, beginning to laugh near the end finally breaking character, a cheesy smile on your face as you look up at him

He drops his own act, a loving smile adorning his features as he cups your cheeks “Merlin I love you so much” his words drip with such verity, eyelashes finding audience with his cheeks as his smile widens further

“I love you mo-” he squeezes your cheeks together halting your words before the daily battle of ‘who loves whom more’ transpires

“Nuh huh missy” he pecks your puckered lips before releasing you “You definitely okay?” his playful nature sinks back into concerned boyfriend for a moment, even with all the fun and games he always checked in

You nod “Just just a little nick while I was grating the cheese” you explain 

“Good” he scrunches his nose a little, bending down slightly as his brings your finger up one more, isolating it from the others “Because one day this one is going to hold something very important” James almost falls in love all over again as he watches the sheer giddiness that takes hold on you at the insinuation “You going to keep it safe for me?”

He’s surprised you don’t get dizzy with how firm your nodding is “With my life” you promise, holding your hand to your heart 

“Did that break you a bit?” he wonders, soft laugher escaping his lips when you let out a little hum “You want to show me to dinner before you implode?” 

You hum again, grabbing his hand as you lead him towards the your feast, unaware you won’t have to keep that finger safe for long as in a little drawer by your dining table lays that something important

Thank you for reading ♡

[hannahssimblr]

A car comes to a stop up on the strand road, headlights glancing blades of the marram grasses, and the engine idling as the B&B sign across the road swings out of time with the waves. A door opens, shuts, and unsteady feet scrape the tarmac. 

He is drunk and alone, and staggers down the steps towards the beach house as I watch from the rattan couch. 

“Hello.”

He jumps. 

“Jaysus, fuck… feck sake. What are you doing?”

“Can’t sleep. I was waiting to feel tired.”

“Oh, right,” Shane sways precariously to one side, catching himself with a side step, “You home long, or?”

“An hour, maybe. Where’s the others?”

“Chipper. I got chucked out.”

“Why?”

“Too drunk, they said. It’s bullshit, though, because I’m not drunk.”

“Yeah, bad call. You don’t seem it.”

“I didn’t want chips anyway.” He hiccups and decides on settling into a casual lean against a wooden post. I’m certain it’s the only thing that will keep him upright. “Get Evie home, did you? Safe and sound and all?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good… she’s…” He waves his hand as though I know what he’s talking about. Like he needn’t say it. 

“She’s what?”

“You’d need to be taking care of her, you know?”

“Me specifically?”

“Anyone. She’s like that, you know what I mean? She needs minding.”

I huff out a laugh. “Bit protective. She’s grown up.”

But he shakes his head mournfully. “No, she has to be looked after. That’s what I think. That’s what every- that’s what her mam thinks.”

“Does she?”

“Yeah. I’m to keep her away from things, alcohol and whatnot, that’s my job,” he lets out a goofy, inhibited laugh, “Should keep her away from you, I’d say.”

“Me?”

“Imagine her mam knew she was hanging around you,” he puffs some air out and shakes his head. “Marian would not be happy, I’ll tell you that for nout.”

I lean forward onto my knees and raise an eyebrow at him, and he rambles into some explanation, “It’s just, like, no offence or nothing, she just wouldn’t know what to do around someone like you. She’s not able for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” he throws me a sloppy grin and tries to wink, I suspect, but ends up blinking both eyes instead. “You’re on a different planet altogether.”

“It isn’t like that, though. We’re just friends.”

“You don’t fancy her, no?”

“What? No.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Does she know that?”

“Know what? That I don’t fancy her? I don’t know.”

“I hope she does, she’s… look. She’s a sensitive kind of person. She might take it awful… awful, very hard if she thought one thing and then the other thing were to be the case.”

“I’m pretty sure she knows it’s just a friend thing,” the sense memory of her leg pressing into mine floats to the front of my mind, and I shove it back into the murky depths. “Like, I’m moving to Berlin.”

“And she’s aware?”

“Yeah, you were there when she found out.”

“Alright then.”

“Alright. Go to bed, Shane.”

“You go to bed, you big eejit”

I smirk. “Yeah, I will in a minute.”

He releases himself from the pole and stumbles across the sand towards the stairs. 

“Careful,” I say, and he grunts. 

I hang out on the couch for a while longer, even though it’s cold, and the hair on my arms and legs stands on end with that frigid wind from the sea. 

I imagine I’m back in the church with Evie. That refracted, coloured light all over her face again, and her green eyes shining. This time, things would go differently and I wouldn’t switch off the light. I would kiss her, very slowly, and open my mouth. Her body would go all soft in my arms, and she would smell like jasmine flowers. 

Later, I’d come into her room and I’d just kiss her more. We wouldn’t look at books, or drawings, or talk about Michelle. I would just toss that red hoodie onto the floor and she’d lie down on the bed underneath me. I know she would. 

I don’t like knowing it. She wouldn’t like to be thought of this way, but it’s okay, because I’m just investigating. These are tests, a way for me to check for signs in my body that I enjoy this fantasy about her. 

But when I shut my eyes to really get into it, I’m not with her, I’m hurled back into the locker room again, the shock like a cold shower. Fitzy, a bilious vision, floats into my eyeline among the stench of stale sweat and earth. “What was she like?” He says, eyes hungry, “I bet she was dead eager, was she?”

I want to knock myself out. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[lightofunova]

TIP TOEING TIP TOEING, LITTLE MAN AM I. LITTLE SILLY GUY, JUST SNEAKING AROUND.. NO ONE KNOWS I'M HERE.. OH, YOU'RE STARING RIGHT AT ME. HEY, I HEARD YOU'RE ON A QUEST. ALSO, HI TOR, GOOD TO SEE YOU MY MUSCULAR BUDDY. ANYWAYS, HEEEEEEEEEEY LET ME SLIDE OVER HERE.. SO, YOU NEED HELP, OBVIOUSLY. LET ME TELL YOU A SECRET OF THE LAND. LET ME GIVE YOU A LIFE HACK THAT'S GONNA HELP YOU IN YOUR JOURNE- HAH! YOINK MY TRIDENT NOW A BABABABABABABABA AWAAAAAYYYYYYYYY HI-YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"Give that back for fecks sake!!!"

[aquitainequeen]

From what I've learned about Alien: Romulus, one of my first thoughts was 'Oh for feck's sake, they've got Weyland-Yutani meddling with things humans ought not to wot of and dooming everyone with their greed again?!?!'

Then I learned Disney is trying to disavow responsiblity for someone's death by pointing to the fact that her husband signed up for Disney + several years.

So, yes, commenting on the fact that megacorporations are consistently fucking people over, especially those who work for them, is always and forever pertinent.

[gordontheengineswifenirmal]

My mum would b thrilled that Kamala Harris is running for president, because she’s female. I like her not simply because she’s half Indian, but because she’s strong, she’s classy. She’s intelligent. She’s a mature woman - she doesn’t show off or seek attention. She shows great potential.

I also have to laugh at jd Vance’s comment.

"We are effectively run in this country via the Democrats, via our corporate oligarchs, by a bunch of childless cat ladies who are miserable at their own lives and the choices that they've made and so they want to make the rest of the country miserable too," Vance said.

Oh for fecks sake. He acts as though ALL mothers are automatically happy being so. Even if u became a mum through rape or had kids n realised it wasn’t as great as u thought. Or whatever. Ok, me life does suck, but it’s NOT because I don’t have kids.

He wants you to think that ONLY childless cat people have mental health issues, and that tradwife lifestyles don’t. There’s a silent oppression and delusion thought process that goes with that lifestyle. It often feels cultish, and can easily entertain abuse. No thanks. Mothers can be just as miserable as what he assumes ALL childless women are. Some childless women do wish they had kids, n that’s valid. Many of us are quite happy that we don’t. We are equally valid. Sometimes, by NOT having kids, we r saving prospective offspring from more health concerns or possible abuse. It’s actually incredibly responsible, and that energy can be better spent elsewhere that’s more productive for the individual.

In fact, if I would have had kids, it would have been worse. I was never emotionally cut out for children, and they’d bring out the worst of me temper. I know this and accept this about me. I would be the best them/make the afraid of me to love me sort. I’m also extremely sensitive to stress, and get overstimulated easily. This leads to me getting rather bitchy. I’m also sensitive to pain. Pregnancy and especially labour often cause intense pain. Kids are loud, they smell, they are full of shite, piss, n puke. Frequently. I’m not worried about ruining the figure, lol. That’s already been gone, n there r far more serious concerns to worry about.

Besides, a lot of parents think they are doing well by their kids by spoiling them. They create entitle, privileged brats who are unable to properly acclimate to society’s challenges. Struggle is a natural part of life, and these folks can’t cope as easily. They also treat others as tho they can walk all over them. These parents teach their kids that they don’t need to move aside for others, it doesn’t matter if their kids run smock n knock into you. They don’t need to apologise. You are at THEIR mercy. They can’t mouth off to u, n that’s fine. Its selfish. Its delusional. It’s vile.

Also, mental and physical health issues run thick in the family. Aside from that, I’m just barely making it meself. I have tried to keep jobs, and ptsd n anxiety (as well as other issues) have led to me quitting or being fired. I’ve applied for well paying jobs, got me degrees, n don’t even get looked at - unless it’s a scam. I don’t even have my own place. The struggle is so real, i rebt a room.

In fact, the therapist and shrink seem to think that me ptsd doesbt affect it, just bdcause to them i can live in roomd. The thing they dont realise is that its either a room, or im homeless. I dont have a choice. Thus doesnt mean that its not without issue. I have to internalise a lot, since no one either acknowkedges the issues, or dont really care. Or both. And when youre in such a position, u put urself more at risk of neing kicked out. Its a battle of ‘whats the bigger evil?’ I often battle depression over frustration in private. The internalising also leads to depression. Tbe everyday stress of cohabitation add more triggers. It literally feeks like im at war, trying to durvive every day. N wbrn a hoysemate has a paramour over, the intense lsnic attacks strike. These r quickly exhuasting.

With all that being said, being childless, and being around cats makes things slightly better. Cats are soft, delicate. They allow me to experience a temporary patience I’m unable to have with people. They make sweet sounds, they cuddle with me, they look at me with soft, sweet faces. They don’t talk back, they don’t insult or abuse you.

Nah, I’ll never regret being a childless cat lady. I’m doing society a favour.

[msfbgraves]

(( This is one of these things Daniel gets quiet about, and Terry finds it frightening. They don't discuss it much, but Daniel did buy Terry a new rosary and a new cross pendant after that abdominal injury. And "I'll be fine" Daniel usually cuts off with: "You be careful!" ))

Could we get a scene with this? It’s very sweet., if frightening.

I love when Daniel is all concerned over his Alpha and the risky business he deals with… 🥰

Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum, benedicta tu in mulieribus et benedictus -

He'd heard his Terry moan, oh, a thousand times.

Never like this.

Sancta Maria, mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus -

He'd watched him sleep, too, in stolen moments: Terry didn't want Daniel up when he couldn't watch him, simply refused to close his eyes before his mate did, unless it was bright daylight and his people were in place.

He was out, now, no idea what he was moaning or who he was with.

Nunc et in hora mortis -

Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis peccatoribus

Sancta Maria, mater Dei

Miserere nobis...

It was past two, the night shift had just been. They'd offered him a meal, a place to rest, a priest for company.

As if a priest would truly not judge his Terry. He, Daniel, his mate, needed to be here, in the deepest quiet, alone and humble, one sinner begging for another.

Holy Mother of God, Madonna, you have brought him into my life, and I swore in your sight to cherish, honor and obey, and I have kept my word as well as I am able. Holy Mother of God, we have been blessed time and again, and I have honored all these gifts. For their sake, Madonna mia, keep him, for it was your wish I should love him, and I have ...

Dio - perdona mi... if I beg for my sake alone, but you hurt me by giving me to him, don't hurt me by taking him away. l...

For my sake if for no one else, I...

I love him...

He'd wished him dead so many times, and now they could finally love each other freely, their Anthony not yet one, to take him now, no, that was a God he could not, would not believe in. He poured his soul in another prayer altogether, of trust and love and faith in His mercy, because another God he would not, could not let into his heart and his heart was more full than ever. He laid his heart bare then, laid his faith humbly into his Lord's hands.

He was exhausted. He pulled himself to his feet, but there was nothing else he could do for his mate, no way to add to his comfort, so he kissed his face and stroked his hair, ti amo, you rat bastard, and sat back down at his bedside, Terry's fingers to his lips, the rosary laced between them.

Somebody was rubbing his neck.

"Mo... cuishle..."

He was up in a nanosecond, smoothed his mate back down. "Shhh, Terry, I'm here, save your strength..."

"Need you to - push - oww, for feck's sake -!"

"Do you need the nurse? I'll get -"

"No, sh... push button I can't..."

"Yes, Terry." He pushed the red button, firmly, three times.

Terry smiled. "Good... b -"

Goodbye?! Daniel ran. "Nurse!! Nurse!!!"

And maybe it was because he'd been so quiet the whole time, but someone took pity on him and a nurse actually appeared. "Silver, correct?" He stepped inside. "What?"

Terry sat up to his full height. "Why hasn't anyone provided my omega - MY OMEGA - with so much as a blanket? Look at him! Have you left him all night? I-"

"You'll pull your stitches if you go on like this, Mr. Silver," the nurse said dispassionately.

"That's not all I'll feckin pull!" Terry spat. "Get him a bed, a meal, or so help me, I'll... I'll..."

"Thanks, Meghan," the nurse said to a colleague, before turning to Daniel. "Standard muscle relaxant, Mr. Silver. A lot of Alphas wake up agitated. We usually advise family to leave them alone for a few hours after an episode."

"You drugged him?"

The nurse laughed. "Yeah, that's what we do. But you'd better go home for some rest, Mr. Silver, or we'll have to up the dosage the next time you visit."

Meghan handed him his sparse belongings before ushering him out. Daniel heard a faint: "Alphas, am I right?" before stumbling into the elevator, giggling through his tears.

[clochanamarch]

" oh for fecks sake, i can't believe-- " a perfectly timed pillow muffles a string of obscenities that find themselves masterfully interwoven through the remainder of her sentence. once she's punctuated it with a long groan of exasperation, she throws it down to the foot of the bed with a sigh. " can you make an excuse for me, or is it for the best that i just suck it up for three hours and go? "

@b4rtlet liked THIS POST for a starter using aisling's new fc!

[officeobject]

I have no intro, and I think at this point everyone knows that I make intros, like the sandwich intro, just for fun or whatever, and the actual reason I choose these topics, is because I had them as an idea, maybe had gotten inspired, but generally, got in a good enough mood to type it all out.

You know, I actually got called "frenchfurrygender" as a joke once, and I feel weird happy feelings when thinking about it, and even felt it when I for the first time had it in the corner of my eye, but I'm not French, and let me clarify that xenogenders might sound similar in name, but are actually valid, and xeneophobes (not the same as xenophobes, but also xenophobes), can feck off ... that being said, frenchfurrygender isn't a xenogender, therefore, it ain't real (unless the gender police says it's real, LOL).

Anyways, I give permission for y'all to guess my gender, therefore, y'all can do it.

I didn't include every gender in this, because ... well, queer people should understand why, there's basically infinite genders.

Also, multigender people exist, but I think I read it wasn't possible making multiple options on Tumblr, and I also don't know how, so just comment the combinations ... or just leave it vague.

In case you're wondering why I'm making this, it's again another "yeah, I just want your perception and am tooootally not also gonna judge you for it" type of thing.

In case your perception of me is just "trans" and you wanna figure your way from there for the sake of this poll, I'm non-intersex (not sure what the word for that is) female, and therefore AFAB. If that's gonna make you see me as my body or whatever, then I want you to look up both therapy and "sexual attraction", because ew, what the fuck?

In case you want MORE trivia about me, I do have quite the bitch of a fursona I haven't revealed on Tumblr, but if you wanna know how I see myself and can't just Colby-Tybbles-teenage-boy-ghost yourself into my room and look at the commissioned paper, don't worry, because my subconscious can't register what I see in the mirror as myself, but registers my fecking Pinkie Cooper And The Jet-Set Pets Ginger Jones doll, as myself, when looking at it. Also, I hate the look of every sex, I like the look of humans wearing clothes and just having clothes on and never taking them off, in case you need to know how I feel about body stuff (no nipples, no curves, no butt, no PP, no bobbles, etc), and also for some reason my hair looks exactly like the saluki dog breed, which is one of the only parts of my body that looks like me, but that's okay, because my body is my car for my personality ... WROOM WROOM -

Turns out, not many options are able to be made, in a poll. You could also comment your guess, if it's not there.

But yes, you get to headcanon me as trans! Or even cis! *Softly exclaims* OH MY GOOD ...

Follow my account for when you get to headcanon about my opinions on mugs, of which I will then laugh and judge everyone who gets it wrong, but also never reveal the correct answer/answers.

I know this is weird since I'm a real life person and not a character but I'm allowing people to just guess/headcanon stuff, but oh well!

Also, this is the first poll I'm not voting on, and that's because I don't want y'all to get the correct answer as a spoiler, and none of the options are goofy and funny (unlike me knowing my age but "guessing" it in the age-guess poll anyway, and choosing "16" regardless, because that's the minimum age, and I just thought that would be funny ... in case you're wondering, it's actually the most popular age-guess for me, and I think "26+" or something, is the SECOND most popular option, and yeah, fair enough, man).

[sparklyeyedhimbo]

Oh this is why he looked so happy oh for feck sake dr. chikita

[koffieplease]

What was wrong with email? Why does everything need to be a chatbot these days?

I can't call and have to get contact with my bank. THEY DON"T HAVE AN EMAIL. ONLY A STUPID CHATBOT THAT DOESNT UNDERSTAND ANYTHING. "Oh, you said credit card? Here is a link on how to request one." feck off.

I don't need a quick respond. I need someone to look at my problem. It is not complicated. Now I have to yell at the chatbot untill it gets that I am mad enough to give me a real human. This would have been so much easier (and less frustrating) if they gave me the option to email them.

Also, those chatbots are structured as a social interaction, but a fake one. I am frickin autistic. Why do I have to have a fake conversation, giving me real social anxiety? I get that to some people this feels natural, but this is the worst for me. Get this social stuff away from me. An email gives me way less stress, since I can take my time and explain my problem clearly. This stupid chatbot that can't read a single sentence and gives me incorrect information.

Please, for the sake of accessability, give me an email adress to reach you. :(

[ophelia-jones]

May

8, 1880

Isadora was dirty and exhausted from her travels and her heart was laden with a steely grief which people told her time would ease. She knew, though, that these were empty words meant to ease the pain of the early days of loss.  The grief would not go away, rather it would become a burden she was accustomed to carrying. 

Eight months earlier she had returned to El Paso with her beloved Madre' who wanted to die in the town where she was born and be buried beside her parents.  Her father was a surgeon barber and though he wanted to accompany Maria, he had not dared lose his livelihood to make the journey.

Though the idea of Isadora traveling alone terrified him, he had put his faith in God and allowed her to undertake the task of seeing her mother home.

At least she did not need to cross the border, Hank had said, much to Maria's chagrin. El Paso had been a Mexican city when she was a girl, though it had eventually seceded to Texas but Maria's heart had always been with Mexico.

Isadora had been born in Texas after her parents were wed, and they had moved around the southwestern territories most of her youth.  They had finally found a home in New Hope Wyoming when she was a girl of 11. It was the first place she had felt accepted as she was, and not shunned by the Hispanic people for being half-white or called cruel names by whites for the same. She understood how Madre' felt about El Paso because it was the way she felt about New Hope. It was her home . 

At least the majority of the travel had been able to be accomplished by train, the Union Pacific railway had made possible the sort of journey that had once been in a lifetime for many people more accessible. 

Now, however, the train had taken her as far as it could and she would need a stagecoach to complete her trek. She sighed with relief as she settled into the covered carriage, despite knowing it would be a far from comfortable ride home. The carriage shook as the driver loaded her luggage into the boot and strapped it down. 

An immaculately dressed, well-groomed young man with ash brown hair and soulful grey eyes boarded first, offering Isadora a polite but proper nod and smile of greeting. Outside the carriage, there was a commotion between the coach driver and a woman, presumably another passenger for the trip to New Hope.

Soon a woman with flaming red curls climbed into the coach with a dramatic sigh. She wore a suede riding skirt with no bustle and an almost scandalously high hemline that fell just below the knees, and a white linen blouse long duster made of the same buckskin suede as the skirt. She also had a prominent holster on each hip containing a Lemat revolver in each. As soon as the doors were closed the woman began loosening the buttons on the neck of her blouse and fanning herself. 

Isadora averted her eyes at the woman's lack of modesty and tried to focus on the landscape passing outside her window.

"Mary Kate, your immodesty is disconcerting to proper ladies, we've discussed this a great many times," the young man scolded his companion.

"Oh for feck's sake, Aaron just because yer an old niminy-piminy doesn't mean everyone else is. I've got nothing she hasn't seen afore!" the woman declared with a thick Irish accent.

"Allow me to apologize, madam. My cousin has never been one for proper etiquette I'm afraid. I hope it doesn't trouble you too greatly," the young man said. He was soft-spoken and seemed sincerely kind to Isadora and she smiled at him in response.

"It doesn't trouble me, it's one of the better things about being home. Expectations are relaxed when it comes to manners," she said, stealing a glance at the fiery-haired woman. The gentleman's accent said east coast - Philidelphia, perhaps. The pair could not have been more unlike. 

"Aaron Murphy, Ma'am. This is my unruly cousin, Mary Kathleen Byrne," he introduced himself politely and Isadora turned to stare at the woman, her jaw dropping at the name as she put two and two together. 

"Wildfire Kate, the gambler?" She asked, and Kate's blue eyes lit up.

"See, Aaron, she's not such an old sage hen. She reads the papers." Kate nudged her cousin.  Aaron pressed his lips together in distaste; he was not a fan of pulp fiction. 

"Did you really beat Doc Holiday in a shootout?" Isadora asked, the corner of her mouth twitching up in excitement.

"Ach, no. I could, t'be sure, but I've yet to meet the man. He's avoiding me, I say," she said playfully, her steel blue eyes dancing.  Isadora could not help but return her smile, the woman's effervescent personality hard to resist.

"What brings you up to New Hope?" Isadora asked the pair, genuinely curious. New Hope wasn't a particularly large place and not a tourist destination by any means.

"I hear there's a man up that way making a name for himself, has done so well at the tables he went and started buying property up this way, I wanted to test his mettle, if ye will," She replied.

"Are you talking about Negan Smith?" Isadora groaned. The man was a menace. 

"That's the man himself! D'ya know him, then?" Kate asked.

"I do. He was a cowhand that drifted from ranch to ranch when he was younger, did an apprenticeship as a blacksmith, then he tried his hand at mining for gold up in the mountains. He did well with that, and that's when he started gambling. He did even better at that, I suppose. Now he owns a ranch not far from New Hope with more cattle than anyone in the county but Herschel Green. He also owns the dance hall in town, and a lot of folks think he's aiming to run for Mayor next." Isadora informed her.

"A real Jack-of-all-trades, eh? How is he with a pistol?" Kate wanted to know.  Isadora scoffed.

"He considers himself the best there is, from what I understand. He has a Colt Peacemaker he calls 'Lucille' that he terrorizes people with." 

"Sounds like just the sorta fella what needs to be brought down a peg or two. Sounds like fun, time!" Kate winked at Isadora. 

Suddenly, the stagecoach lurched forward, they could hear the reinsman cracking his whip and trying to drive the horses harder. The shotgun guard was calling out, but they could not understand his words amidst the clatter and bang of the carriage as it bounced dangerously fast over rocks and holes. The wheels were term long on their axles and it seemed a sure thing that at least one would soon break or come off.  Then they heard the boom of the guard's shotgun.

"Is it Indians, do you think?" Aaron asked, his eyes nervous. 

"More likely road agents. Relations with the tribes that once resided here are mostly peaceful these days. The Indian wars were awful but things have been quiet since," Isadora said, shocking even herself with her ability to remain collected.

"Highwaymen?" Kate said, arching a ginger eyebrow. "Well they're in for a surprise," she drew both pistols and checked that they were fully loaded. There was another shot, and another, followed by a horrible thump as the shotgun guard fell from his post. 

The driver reined the horses in and they came to an abrupt stop, Isadora thrown forward on top of Kate. She had no time to right herself before the doors were yanked open on each side and two men with bandanas tied around their lower faces pointed pistols at them.

"Hands up! I don't wanna see none o' you reaching for NOTHING, ya hear me? You breathe the wrong way and it'll be the last breath you ever take!" the taller of the two men yelled at them. He was thin and had the darkest, most dangerous blue eyes Isadora had ever seen. She believed the man would follow through with his threats. 

As Isadora managed to sit upright in her seat once more, she caught a glimpse of Kate looking very frustrated with the fact that she had accidentally prevented her from drawing her weapons. Isadora couldn't think about it at the moment, her mind was on trying not to panic.

"Well, what have we here?" The highwayman announced, sounding more than a little pleased at the sight of the pistols. Kate cursed at the man but cooperated as he removed the pistols from their holsters and handed over a was of bills she'd had secured in her boot. While he busied himself with taking everything of value Kate had in her, the other man focused on Aaron and Isadora.

"Hand over your money and your jewelry, any weapons, too," he demanded, his voice a low growl. This man, still taller than average despite being slightly shorter than the other, had the broadest shoulders Isadora had ever seen.  He wore a brown leather hat with a broad brim and shaggy brown hair that covered nearly every bit of his face which wasn't hidden by the bandana. As she slipped the rings off her fingers and untied the purse from her wrist, she caught sight of his silver blue eyes and hesitated. She was struck with the thought that this man was just as frightened as she was. Just as trapped. 

"And the necklace," he said, gesturing to the gold chain around her neck with his gun.

"Oh, no, please sir, this is all I have left of mi madre, my mother. Anything else, but this is a reliquia de familia!" she was ashamed at how quickly the tears sprang to her eyes. She knew it was foolish to beg a robber, it was only delaying the inevitable and might well agitate him enough to get her killed. But there was something about this man, a kindness in his eyes…

"Don't fall for that boohooing bullshit!" the first man yelled across the coach as the long-haired man hesitated. 

"We got what we need, let's go!" the kind-eyed man retorted.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" the other robber demanded. He looked Isadora up and down for a moment, then reached out and rubbed a lock of her long black hair between his fingers.  "Although, she is a prize in and of herself, ain't she? Maybe you should come along with us, sugar. Then you don't need to part with your 'reliquia'." 

Isadora's chest tightened, her heart beating so quickly that she began to tremble. She couldn't even find the strength to speak.  Suddenly, a strong hand reached out and grabbed the locket firmly, and with a sharp tug the chain broke and the hesitant man snatched it away from her.

"You happy? Let's GO!" he yelled at the other man before turning to mount his horse. The leader of the highwaymen, she could see now that there were at least two other riders on horseback keeping watch over their brethren as they robbed the passengers, kept his eyes on Isadora for a long silent moment. When he finally turned and mounted his horse she finally breathed out - and began to sob.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph I coulda stopped 'em if I'd had half a chance to get me guns!" Kate exclaimed angrily. "I fecking hate being outdrawn!"

Aaron opened the door and stepped out quietly.

"And where are you off to?" Kate asked him, sounding annoyed.

"I'm going to see if there is anything I can do for the guard or the driver," he explained calmly.  He was the only one of the three who had kept his head during it all. His concern for the others brought both women out of their selfish reveries.

Isadora hurried from the coach to discover that the driver was uninjured but had been robbed, bound, and gagged in case he had any thoughts of giving chase. The shotgun guard, however, was on the ground with a broken arm and a shotgun wound to his chest. 

"He's still breathing, help me get him into the carriage!" Isadora said, the years of helping her father take over her thoughts. She moved with purpose as the four of them lifted the injured man into the coach. Kate sat up with the driver, taking the shotgun position even though the bandits had taken the shotgun. Aaron sat beside Isadora and they tried to keep the man as comfortable as possible for the rest of the bumpy journey.

"Thank the Lord they didn't steal the horses," Aaron murmured at one point.

"They knew what they could get away with," Isadora replied, "they'd be shot or hanged for stealing horses."

"Right. Of course," Aaron replied. He had only been west of Pennsylvania for a few months and still wasn't entirely familiar with the ways of the wild west.

When they arrived in the town the stagecoach pulled up to the station and Kate disembarked hurriedly, opening the door for the others.

"Aaron, would you go down the street and find my father? He's the barber-surgeon, his shop is just down there on the left!" Isadora asked her new acquaintance, then turned to Kate "And Kate, go to the jail and get the Sheriff." She herself was still applying pressure to the worst of the man's wounds to stem the bleeding.

********************************* 

Sheriff Rick Grimes was reading over a telegraph for the third time, trying to make sense of the why and how of the message. He had been doing everything within reason to catch the highwaymen who had been robbing the good people of this county for the past few months, and he was confident that he would catch the men in time. So why had Mayor Gregory sent for help from the Pinkerton Agency in Chicago? 

He was more than irritated at the man overstepping his place.  Rick was the Sheriff of the county, and Gregory was responsible only for what happened within the town limits. He was about to call into the man's home to demand some answers when a woman with wild red curly hair burst in.

"What the hell?" Shane cried out, standing up quickly from behind the desk where he had been nearly dozing. Shane was Rick's Deputy, and though other men were also deputies, Shane was the only one who was paid for his work. The others all made their living in other ways but could be called on when there was a need. 

"The stagecoach has been robbed, and a man has been shot, in case you were interested," she announced, her Irish lilt sassy and judgemental to Rick's ears.

He and Shane both hurried to follow the woman, arriving at the stagecoach at the same time as Beau Landry, the local barber-surgeon. Before long, they had the man carried into the jail and placed him on the cot so he could be treated for his injuries. 

Once they had done all there was to do, and Kate, Aaron, and the driver had filled the officers in on everything they could recall about the robbery, Rick watched through the doorway as the woman with the black hair and dark eyes washed the blood from the injured man's face and reassured him.  Her father had gone to the chemist for some laudanum to ease the man's pain and help him to rest.

"Miss Landry?" Rick said from the doorway. "How are you? Were you injured?" 

Isadora sighed and stood to face the sheriff. Her hair had come down from where it had been pinned up neatly on the back of her head when the day had begun. Her black mourning dress was dirty from kneeling on the ground to aid the man and stained with his blood. Her deep brown eyes were weary and filled with sorrow, and Rick's heart ached for her. He felt as if he had failed her by not stopping these robberies sooner. 

She was a striking beauty, even disheveled as she was, and there was a strength in her dark eyes he had rarely seen in most men, let alone a young woman. He found himself staring and yet despite knowing it was bad manners, couldn't quite tear his eyes away.

"I'm uninjured, Sheriff Grimes, gracias. Only tired." she smiled weakly.

"Do you think you can tell me about the men? Anything you noticed, anything at all no matter how small." 

"There were four of them. They were covered from head to toe, except for their eyes. I'm not sure I saw anything that would help," she replied, thinking of those blue eyes. She didn't know why, but she couldn't bring herself to mention them.

"I'll find them, they will pay for doing this to you," he told her earnestly. 

"Where are you from, Sheriff Grimes?" Isadora asked, noting his accent.  There was something about his presence, the way he stood, perhaps, that she found reassuring. A quiet strength in his eyes.

"Georgia, originally," he replied with a slight smile. "Before the war."

"You were a soldier," she said, as if this answered some question she had been asking herself.

"A sergeant with the 1st Battalion of Georgia Infantry," he replied, looking shyly at the floor. 

"You fought for the union?" she remarked, clearly surprised. "No wonder you left Georgia."Rick chuckled slightly, nodding slightly and looking up at her with his head still slightly bowed.

"That, and there was nothing left there for me. While I was fighting, my wife died in childbirth," he informed her.

"I'm sorry," Isadora told Rick sincerely.

"I'm sorry to leave you waiting so long, Izzy, but I'm back with the laudanum. Why don't you go home now and freshen yourself up? You must be exhausted," Beau told his daughter as he returned to the jail.

"Si, Papi. Thank you," she kissed the man on his cheek and moved for the door. 

"I'll walk you home," Rick offered, and Isadora was too weary to refuse.

[babarrier]

oh for fecks sake seán the feckin potatoes have gone again. yeah they’re inedible what the feck are ye expecting

I honestly think the original ah lads not again post is the funniest

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Nine (Part 4)

He drives me to the station so that I don’t miss my train since we’re running late, and walks me all the way to the entrance. His eyes flicker over my face as though he needs to memorise every feature. “I’ll see you on Monday morning.” He says.

“Yeah,” I say, “The train’ll have me back for half ten.”

“I can collect you from here if you want me to.”

I shrug, “only if it’s not an inconvenience or anything.”

“No, it definitely wouldn’t be,” He tucks a strand of my hair, still damp from the shower, behind my ear and his chest rises with a sharp breath, “Have a nice time, won’t you?”

“You too.” I turn to walk away but he yanks me back to him again and angles his head to kiss me. Not a light, casual one, but deep, longing, intense, and his arms wind around my back and lock me close to him. “It’s just for the weekend,” I laugh, “I’m coming back in forty eight hours, you’d swear I was off to war.”

“I know,” he brushes his nose against mine, “I’m sorry, I just feel-” He draws back, “It’s fine, I’ll be right here on Monday to pick you up.”

“Alright, weirdo,” I tease, and peck his cheek. “I’ll see you,” I turn into the station and walk away. 

I fear the clouds the whole way from the bakery to the estate. They roll in ominous, black and laden with rain, and somewhere in the distance is a rumble of thunder. 

“Oh God, please, no, not again,” I mutter to myself. These storms don’t seem to let up lately.

A man slopes past with his hands in his pockets, “That for me?” He says. 

I look down at the pink and white cake in my hands. Happy 55th Birthday Marian! Is piped in the centre in purple looping cursive.

I roll my eyes, “Yeah.” 

Then I see our neighbour Jerry. “Looks like rain,” He says to me. 

“It does yeah.”

He peers at the cake, “Mammy’s birthday, is it?”

“‘tis.”

“Fifty-Five, jaysus. Tell her Jerry from next door said she still looks nineteen.”

I snort, “Will do.” and he walks away and I consider telling her that Jerry from next door clearly fancies the arse off her just to kick off a preposterous neighbourhood rumour.

She’s hoovering the sitting room carpet when I get in, and the air is choked with the smell of pine disinfectant. “Jesus,” I wheeze, “doing a bit of a clean are you?”

“Evie,” she looks up and shuts the hoover off, “There you are.”

“Here I am,” I say, and she looks quizzically at the cake. “Your birthday,” I explain, “I went and got you a cake from Meylers Bakery.”

“Oh, feck it, alright,” She says, “c’mere, put it down in the kitchen there sure there’s dust flying around everywhere here. G’wan out there now.”

I go into the kitchen where the whole place is gleaming, and even the laminate countertops seem more reflective than usual. I place it down and carefully peel off the plastic lid, and she shuffles in after me as I’m trying to transfer it onto one of the nice cake stands she displays in the dresser. 

“Ah, you put my age on there!” she protests, “Now Joanne Meyler is going to know how old I am.”

“Does it matter if Joanne Meyler knows that?”

“Fifty five, Jesus Christ,” she takes a sheet of kitchen roll and begins to scoop cake crumbs from the surface onto her hand, “When did I get so bloody old?”

“You’re not old, mammy. The fifties are the new thirties.”

She throws her eyes to heaven, “Yeah, right.”

“Jerry next door said you look nineteen.”

“Jerry next door is bloody soft in the head.”

“Oh alright.”

She looks at the cake again, “I’m depressed.”

I snort with laughter, “You aren’t, for God’s sake, would you shut up. It’s your birthday, c’mere,” I put my arms around her, “Happy birthday mammy.”

“Look at my skin,” she says, tilting her cheek to me, “You see it’s gone like crepe paper.”

“It’s not. You’ve no wrinkles at all,” but she waves me away. “I have a present for you as well,” I say, and root a gift box out of my bag. 

“Ah, what’s this now?” She says as she peers at the branding, “What are you doing shopping in that place? That’s too expensive.”

“Stop it mam, just accept it.”

She takes it from me and pulls out a bottle of perfume. She stares at it for several long seconds, and then says, “Jo Malone?”

“Yeah, Jo Malone.”

“Is that real?”

“Yeah of course.”

“Where did you get the money for that?”

I laugh, “No need to be so suspicious. I work. Or at least I was working. I got a big payment for a mural I did on Temple Bar last month.”

She leans her arm against the counter like she needs to brace herself a bit, “That’s very fancy now altogether.”

“It is, do you remember that time we went shopping together for Christmas and we smelled all of the perfumes at the Jo Malone counter?”

She nods, “I do, yeah.”

“And you liked this one, and I said to myself that one day I’d buy you a bottle.”

Her eyes flick to mine, “And you bought this? You did go asking your fancy boyfriend for a loan of money or something?”

“Feck sake, no! I bought it for you with my own money.”

“It’s too much.”

“It isn’t.”

I swear that her chin trembles a little bit before she decides that she’s not allowed to be emotional, “well thank you,” She says, “That’s lovely now, I’ll wear that out and the other women will be saying I’m gone very posh.”

I reach into the kitchen press and pull out a couple of side plates and then retrieve a cake knife from the drawer. “Are you doing something with the girls later on?”

“Not today,” she says. “During the week we’ll go to a restaurant, I think. There’s a new one after opening in town, some Asian street-something-or-other.”

“Sounds nice,” I cut into the cake and pull out a thin slice for her, because she’s always watching her weight. “And where’s dad?”

“Ach!” She coughs out, “Away.”

“Away?”

“He went out there this morning and he’s not been back since.”

I look at her. “Does he know it’s your birthday?”

“Well he should do.”

“Did he say happy birthday at any point?”

She hesitates, “Well he ought to know, I’d say he’s just off on a small job, or down the pub with the lads.”

I frown, “Mam, did he not get you anything?”

“When you’re married thirty two years these kinds of things don’t make a difference anymore.”

“Well they should. If Jude forgot my birthday I’d be bloody furious. Not even flowers?”

“Ah, what’s the point? Flowers would only wilt,” She pulls a plate of cake towards her and perches at the counter. I hand her a fork, “If you’re going to go mad at every little thing you’d be driven demented. It’s better just to get on with it.”

“Hm,” I take a forkful from the corner of my slice. “I don’t really think that’s the right way of looking at it. You’re worthy of celebration, and you’re worthy of your husband’s time. It’s not too much to expect him to prioritise you.”

She doesn’t know what to say to something like this, so she just says, “yeah,” and then changes the subject. “Your granny was saying you’ve gone very grown up.”

“After seeing me at the Christening?”

“She says you’re the image of me.”

“Well I am the image of you. I feel like there’s nothing at all of dad in me,” I smirk, “Do you ever think she was annoyed about it?”

She lets out a low laugh, “I don’t know about that, would you say? I was glad to hear it because I always thought as much. You’re all made up of Crowley genes, you’ve no Kilbride in you at all.” I can tell she’s pleased about this. She and granny Kilbride have never quite seen eye to eye, with granny always not-so-secretly thinking that she was somehow beneath her son. 

“Do you have any pictures of yourself when you were my age?” I query, “I’ve only ever seen the ones where you’re a bit older, like, the ones where I’m a baby and you’ve got that mad permed hair and shoulder pads.”

“Well, excuse me, ‘twas the style at the time,” She says.

“I’m just curious to see how alike we are, it’s easier to compare when you’re looking at you when you were younger.” 

“Right, hang on there, I’ll get out the photos,” she wipes her hands on her trousers, goes into the other room to search and comes back with a box in her hands with a label that reads 1980 – 1985. She lays it on the counter next to our empty plates and peels the lid open. It’s like uncovering a tomb of secrets, and I’m briefly seized with excitement and anticipation as she pulls out a little pile from one side of it and hands it to me, “have a look through there, see if you can find anything decent.”

“Why haven’t you ever gotten these down for me? I didn’t know you had so many photos from the eighties.”

“Sure what did you think I was doing? Just sitting around at home? I had a life before you were born, missy.” She peers at me, “And before you ask, we had cameras then too, back in the dinosaur ages.”

I start to look through them, and there she is, my mother younger than I’ve ever seen her. I can see it. She’s like me in every way. The gangly frame, the startlingly pale skin, those bright green eyes peering out from under the sheets of straight brown hair that flank her face. She looks deliriously happy in some of the photos, wearing cuffed denim jeans and covered in paint as she drags a thick paintbrush up the wall of someone’s living room. There are a heap of photos from this particular day. It looks like she’s helping a friend to move, and there’s a photo of her grinning with two other girls next to a giant skip piled high with broken furniture.

“That’s Dublin,” I realise. “George’s Street.”

“Back when those big houses only cost thirty thousand pounds, imagine. Now they go for near a million I’d say.”

“Mad, the girl who bought it, is she still there?”

“Gina was her name, and I don’t know, love, I’m not in touch with her anymore.”

This makes me feel a bit sad. Gina looks fun. “How did you know her?”

“All of those girls and I worked for Aer Lingus back in the day, God, the fun we used to have, we used to just go out into the town and get up to all sorts. Those days Dublin was different, but we made the absolute most of it,” she leans back nostalgically, “The stories I have from that time… sure the funniest things used to be happening to us.” 

“I had no idea you were working for Aer Lingus! You never said.”

“Well I didn’t do it for very long,” She swipes a photo off the top of her own pile and passes it to me, and I laugh with delight as I look at it. It’s her and Gina and a third girl dressed in deep green suits and white gloves. Their berets, embroidered with golden harps sit jauntily on their heads, and they smile, proudly, broadly, as they pose on the tarmac in front of an aeroplane. 

“Why did you give it up? God, I’d say air hostessing was so glamorous back then.”

“The early 80s, yes it certainly was. We were so excited to be there, they treated us like royalty and all the other girls were so jealous,” she sighs, “and I gave it up because I got married, and flitting around the world on a plane wasn’t the kind of thing that a wife ought to be doing. I decided to come home to Tullamore and set up a life with your father, and then I suppose the rest is history.”

“And the other women, your friends, where are they now?”

“Well Stella, the blonde girl there, she met a Belgian man and they moved to a place called Liege after a while. She had great French anyway, but he was some handsome fella, we all had our eye on him at one stage. Marc was his name. Gina travelled the world for a long time. I remember around the time that your father and I moved into this house she was still sending me postcards from far flung places, Mongolia, I remember that one. Zambia, Bolivia, and then I suppose we lost touch. When you have children things change and everyone goes their separate ways,” She takes the photo from me and thumbs it affectionately, “But we enjoyed it while it lasted.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Well,” she looks away thoughtfully, “I suppose I do at times, but I was making a sensible choice. I knew I’d marry and have a big family one day, so I thought that I should get going while I had met someone I thought I could have those things with. I was twenty three. That was a normal age to get married back then, although it seems so young these days. Obviously the plan to have a litter of kids didn’t work out as I thought, but we eventually got you, after eleven years of prayers,” She reaches out and tugs on my cheek, “I suppose if I’d my time back I might have done things a bit differently or waited a bit longer, before settling back in Tullamore, but I don’t regret you.”

She regrets my father though. I frown, “You know, that makes me pretty sad.”

“Ah, no, it isn’t sad, it’s just life. We didn’t have it back then in the same way that girls your age do now. This was a different country, there were more rules upon us, more things to be frightened of. Sure you can do whatever you want, can’t you? Look at you, working away and being an artist for real money. I think that’s something to be very proud of. I could never have done something like that because it just wasn’t the done thing, especially for a girl from a working class background. I would have been laughed out of town for trying something a bit different. You could be a nurse or a teacher or a secretary, and that was it. Otherwise you’d be at home with the children.”

“Yeah.”

“But you’ve gone and become a real artist now, and look at you, buying Jo Malone perfumes on money from commissions,” She shakes her head disbelievingly, “Who would have thought that was possible? I was telling the girls about all the cards and things you were doing up there in that art shop you worked for-”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[sekhisadventures]

Culture Shock

Dornogal

Into the city came four very confused people. Xhu Pai had suggested that, since the big city in the distance seemed to be the only major settlement in the area it would be wise to head there to find help… but upon entering the city what the four time travelers had found was absolutely not what they had expected.

Into the city walked Xhu Pai, Zul’zanza, Yvain Steelhammer, and Loren Fullmoon. The worgen was looking around with a wide grin, taking in the sights of civilization like a woman in the desert finding an oasis. In her own timeline Azeroth had been left utterly decimated by war, all the various kingdoms having been destroyed by the natural disasters caused by the mana bomb dropped on Orgrimmar. Seeing this again was all but making her tear up. Her raven, whom she had introduced to the others as Morri, was seated on her shoulder letting out the occasional cawing sound.

Her other companion, a white feathered somnowl she referred to as Suranol, had stayed behind in the wilds of Dorn. Likely it was still hunting after months of barely surviving back in their home timeline.

Zul’zanza was thunderstruck by what he saw. Other trolls like himself yes, but in his experience the trolls kept to themselves and tended to stay away from outsiders (or kill them.) These trolls travelled with, conversed with, and traded with not just these huge hulking green men that he had never seen before, but also massive cow-like creatures and other stranger things besides. For a troll who had never left Stranglethorn Vale it was enough to make him want to scream.

Only Xhu Pai seemed unbothered by it all, but her timeline had diverged very little so the idea of the Horde and Alliance working together was nothing new for her.

“Wot th’ bloody fel are they doin’…” whispered Yvain as she stared at a group of earthen trading with two orcs for some ore mined from around the island. “Those are orcs fer th’ Light’s sake.” she frowned, gripping the shaft of her hammer as Xhu Pai immediately grabbed her hand.

“Hey. No. Like I said I don’t know whats going on with you, but the Horde and Alliance have a cease fire going right now. If some dwarf woman starts attacking orcs, it will cause a LOT of problems.” she warned.

The dwarf scowled, slowly releasing her hammer. True, the orcs didn’t seem to be doing anything but haggling for prices. From the stories her father had told her orcs were a bunch of bloodthirsty marauding raiders and killers… but these were definitely not the kind of orcs she’d grown up hearing about.

“Aye, it be pretty feckin’ weird fer me… but I’ll take it.” chuckled Loren. She had seen what happened when the Horde and Alliance had a real war, so she’d take bidding wars over that any day. The worgen woman cocked her head, looking around, “So… any idea where we can find someone who can tell us wot th’ fel happened?”

Xhu Pai shook her head, “Not… really no. I’ve never been to this city in my life… or off the Wandering Isle honestly. I just figured… you know… a place where mages tend to be would look… mage-y?” she tried.

Yvain snorted, “… ye have no idea if there’s even mages here, do ye?” she sighed, shaking her head. “We’re on a wild bloody goose chase.” the dwarf woman frowned, looking over at her as she strode forward into the city. “Well I’m gonna go find me a wand-waver ‘n see if I cannae get back home afore me poppa has a heart attack! Good luck ye lo-…” she began, but she wasn’t looking where she was going and collided with another person!

Yvain fell to the ground with a gasp, her armor clattering as she landed. “Ah bloody fel, me arse…” she growled, sitting up.

“Feck! Ah… uh… oh good, bottles didn’t break.” muttered the person she had walked into in a raspy voice. “Are ye alright lassie?” they asked, starting to stand.

Yvain focused on them, and her eyes bulged.

Getting to their feet was a man with long scraggily hair in a purple tunic and trousers, a set of alchemical bottles in his arms that he had been transporting to the alchemy workshop in town to do some more complex experiments… and he was quite clearly dead. His skin was a sickly shade of green, his eyes glowed a deep venomous glow, and his lower jaw had rotted away to leave exposed bone visible to all who saw him.

The dwarf didn’t even think, she leapt to her feet and in one fluid motion pulled her hammer free. “SCOURGE!” she snarled, racing towards him as the hammer began to glow brightly!

“WOT TH’ FECK?!” shouted the undead man as he scrambled backwards away from her. “Are ye mad lassie?! Put that hammer down!” he shouted.

“Oh no! YVAIN! WAIT!” called out Xhu Pai as she ran after the dwarf… and suddenly there was a blur of movement and a woman darted out of the crowd behind the paladin. A furry hand shot out and smacked a spot on the back of Yvain’s neck that was exposed above her breastplate. The paladin suddenly stumbled and dropped her hammer, her arms and legs becoming a tangle of limbs as she fell to the ground, unable to move even her tiniest finger.

“Whew… that was close…” sighed a voice, looking over at the forsaken man. “Are you okay Ed?” asked the newcomer.

She was a pandaren woman with short black hair that had a single streak of white in the bangs, wearing the sort of fashions that were popular in Boralus on the island of Kul’tiras, an antique but very serviceable pandaren spear resting on her back in a holster.

Xhu Pai stared, then let out a cry of relief and ran towards her, throwing her arms around the woman. “JAIE! Oh thank the Celestials!” she cried out. “After what happened I was so scared but if you’re here then there must be a way back home! How did you…” she began, then she realized something.

Rather than embracing her in return, the woman was trying to push her away! “H-hang on! Woah!” she gasped, holding Xhu Pai at arm’s length. “Uh… sorry, but… do I know you?” she asked.

Xhu froze, her jaw falling open. “Jaie? Its me! Xhu Pai! Whats going on? Why are you acting like you don’t recognize me?” she asked as she suddenly realized something was off. This woman was clearly Jaie, her lover… but… she wasn’t quite as heavyset, and more muscular as well… and Jaie had long hair that she kept in a ponytail but this woman’s hair wasn’t even shoulder length… yet it was clearly her! But…

“Oh wow, thought I heard some shouting…” came another voice as an elven woman walked into view, looking down at the still disabled paladin and poking her gently with the tip of her boot. “Whats up with the holy hammerer here?” she asked. She was a void elf, with long purple hair that had tentacles twined through it and chalk white skin, wearing darkened leather armor with a pair of crystal daggers on her belt.

“Search me Sam…” replied the forsaken man, “This dwarf here took one look at me ‘n tried ta stove me bloody head in, then when Jaie paralyzed her this other pandaren lassie grabbed her ‘round th’ shoulders ‘n all but went in fer a snog.”

“Yeah, um… look, I’m sure you’re nice but…” nodded Jaie to Xhu, the pandaren woman chuckling awkwardly, “… yeah, I’m afraid you must’ve mistaken me for someone else…” she nodded. She knew she was the only Jaie on the Wandering Isle, but maybe it was a more common name in Pandaria?

Xhu Pai felt a chill go down her spine. This wasn’t real right? This woman was clearly Jaie. The details were different, but she’d know her girlfriend anywhere! “Jaie…” she whined in desperation, reaching out and gripping her shoulders. “Stop it… this isn’t funny! Don’t you remember what happened? We were at your house having dinner and then all that sand appeared and next thing I knew I was on this island! Where are we? Whats going on?! Why don’t you remember me?!” she asked, her voice growing more and more agitated with each statement.

Jaie glanced around, looking worried now… but Samantha raised an eyebrow. “… dinner at your house… and then a bunch of sand?” she thought, then she snapped her fingers and stepped next to Jaie, grabbing Xhu and turning her to face her. “Right! You. Answer me this. You had dinner with Jaie. Who else was there?!” she demanded.

Xhu Pai tried to scoot back away from her, but the ren’dorei refused to let go. “This is important! Tell me!” Sam insisted.

Xhu looked between her and Jaie, “I… It was me, and Jaie… and her parents.” she replied.

“Her parents. As in more than one parent? Give me some names!” the void elf nodded firmly, still holding Xhu Pai’s shoulders tight.

“Of course! Her mother Xinyi and her father Shi-won were there! Where else would they be? They live there!” she shot back, looking more agitated now.

Jaie’s eyes widened, realization dawning on her. “… oh no…” she whispered, fishing out a gemstone from inside her pouch and drawing a rune on it. A moment later Nelen’s face appeared over it. “Nelen… get everyone to gather at the Glittering Prize. I think Nyloc’s paradox had some side effects…” she nodded.

Xhu looked at Jaie again, “What? Whats the Glittering Prize? Whats going on Jaie? Do you know?!” she asked.

Jaie cringed a bit, this was going to be exceedingly uncomfortable. “Maybe… how much do you know about time travel?” she asked.

The Glittering Prize, a bit later

Jaie and Sam led the four of them up onto the ship where Nelen was already waiting, along with Dareley and Shalandrae. Jeemjazo was doing his rounds as well, and Grimo was leaning against the railing having a cigar. “So… who are these people?” he asked, looking to Jaie.

Jaie sighed, “Well… remember how when we fought Nyloc that spell he did caused other versions of us to show up? I think it didn’t just do that.” she nodded, gesturing to the pandaren woman. “This is Xhu Pai Bao. She’s the heiress of a brewing house on the Wandering Isle and… she says she’s my girlfriend, or… well… she’s a girlfriend to… remember that other Wandering Isle we wound up on where you all got to meet a version of my father who didn’t die?” she asked.

Nelen looked at Xhu Pai, who was looking more than a little stunned by these revelations. She had tried to process the abridged version of events that Jaie had given her on the walk from Dornogal to the ship. Given the abridged series of events involved alternate histories, timelines, a murderous chronomancer, magic gone haywire, and the like… she was still processing it.

Nelen sighed, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh bloody fel…” he sighed, taking out his gemstone and drawing the rune for Ancient Wyrm on it. A moment later the face of Laura Brightflame appeared. “Laura… that book of Chronowarden techniques. Did it have anything about contacting the bronze dragonflight?” he asked.

“Yes… there is a ritual incantation I can do to send a message along the timeways. Has something occurred?” she replied.

“Most definitely yes Laura. More paradoxes, non-violent this time thank Gordrinn, but… yes.” he nodded firmly.

Laura frowned, “I see… I will make my way to the ship presently.” she nodded, cutting the connection.

Yvain frowned at him, folding her arms over her chest, “Dragons?” she asked suspiciously. She knew of dragons, mostly that you left them the fel alone and hoped they did the same for you. She had heard stories of the carnage the orcish dragonriders caused during the Second War from her father.

“Yes well… I don’t know what’s common knowledge in the timelines you’re from, but we have an ally in the Bronze Dragonflight who may be able to get you back to where and when you’re supposed to be.” he replied.

At this Yvain and Zul’zanza looked quite relieved, though Loren seemed rather indifferent. Infact, she was looking at Nelen in a very confused way. Xhu Pai was still staring into space, trying to work out if any of this was real or just some insane nightmare she was having.

Nelen looked at her, then between the others, “So!” he tried, “We got Xhu Pai’s name… but well…” he cleared his throat, “Let me introduce myself properly. My name is Nelen Fullmoon and I’m a member of the Alliance Adventuring Group, Avalon.” he nodded to them.

Yvain cocked her head at him, then glanced at the worgen woman. “Fullmoon… wait a bleedin’ minute… ain’t that…” she began, but Loren clearly had the same idea.

The worgen laughed, grinning widely as she shoved Xhu Pai out of the way and quickly padded towards Nelen, who took several steps back. “HAH! I thought yez looked familiar!” she laughed, “Ain’t seen ye since th’ Winters Veil party me mum threw before everythin’ went ta shite ‘n th’ Third War started!”

Nelen raised his eyebrow at her, “Sorry… what Winter’s Veil party?” he asked, looking concerned. That voice was familiar… disturbingly so in his case.

“Hm? Yez don’t recognize me?” she cocked her head, her ear flicking. “Hm… dunno what became o’ me in this time… hang on a tick…” she nodded, then she closed her eyes and focused.

Her body shrank down as her fur receeded and her muzzle retracted into her face, then suddenly standing before them was a woman with wild black hair and brown eyes, her face and arms sporting several scars as she grinned, putting her hands on her hips. “Howz ‘bout now?” she asked.

Nelen leaned in and adjusted his glasses. She was older than he remembered, but he definitely remembered that grin, and that manic personality, and how she’d always put ‘the squirmy wee bookworm’ in a headlock and noogie him until he managed to break free whenever they ran into each other when he’d return home for holidays while studying in Dalaran. “… oh bloody fel, Loren?!” he asked, “I never saw you again after I got out of Gilneas!”

“Aye! ‘n I never saw yez after I did!” she laughed, “Mebbe yez cacked it in my timeline, mebbe I cacked it in this ‘un…” she shrugged.

Dareley stepped forward at this, “Er… lad? Who is she?” he asked.

Nelen rolled his eyes, “If she’s who I think she is… she’s Loren Fullmoon, my cousin. Missing in action since Arugal unleashed the original worgen on Gilneas, at least in our timeline…” he replied, then he let out a loud wolf-like yelp as Loren threw her arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a tight one-armed hug, grinning at Dareley.

“Aye, that me rockytits!” she laughed as Dareley let out a loud harrumph at his new nickname. “‘n hoooo boy did things go ta shite in my timeline! Honestly, if its all th’ same ta yez, I’d be fine stayin’ put…”

Nelen squirmed in her grasp, then flicked his fingers and Loren suddenly stumbled as he vanished, reappearing next to Dareley. “YES! Well, that won’t be our decision. Chromie will be the one to make that call…” he coughed, rubbing his neck where she’d been holding him, then he turned to the rest as Shalandrae wandered over, the night elf curious now. “How about you, young lady?” he asked, looking to the dwarf woman.

She snorted at the comment, “Young lady? I’m a bloody Knight o’ th’ Silver Hand.” she nodded folding her arms over her chest as she looked up at him in an annoyed way, still sore about Jaie paralyzing her to keep her from attacking Edwood. “Yvain Steelhammer’s me name.” she nodded.

For a moment, it looked as if Dareley had become a statue, the earthen man freezing on the spot as his face went blank. His mind trying to catch up to what he heard. Shalandrae’s mouth became a thin line, looking between Yvain and Dareley, her eyes flicking to Dareley’s prayer book on his belt, then glancing at Yvain’s and realizing something.

It was the same book. The exact same copy. Same cover, same creases in the same spaces, everything.

Nelen however, had his back to them. “Really? Steelhammer you say!” he smiled, “That’s actually the name of my paladin friend here. Is this your niece?” he asked, looking behind him as Dareley stood stock still, staring into the distance.

Nelen hesitated for a moment, “… er… cousin?” he tried, glancing around. Jeemjazo had realized something was up and had given them a wide berth, while Grimo didn’t give a damn, the goblin pointedly ignoring them as he enjoyed his cigar.

“… second cousin?” tried the mage as Shalandrae walked up behind him and gripped his shoulders.

“We need to go inside Nelen.” she said bluntly, pushing him towards the door leading to the hold of the Glittering Prize as Jaie gently waved for Zul’zanza and Loren to follow, Yvain looking around in confusion.

“… third cousin? Third cousin twice removed. I’m missing something again, aren’t I?” asked Nelen awkwardly as he disappeared into the hold. While Shalandrae knew the truth of Dareley’s past and his deceased wife and unborn child, none of the others did. As Dareley said when he told her ‘its not something I like talking about.’

“Er… wot happened?” asked Yvain as she stood there, then she saw the earthen man infront of her slowly turn to look at her, his golden eyes wide. Behind them Shalandrae came back out, then walked back into the hold pushing Jeemjazo ahead of her, her hand clamped hard around Grimo’s ear as she dragged him along, the goblin cursing up a storm as he stumbled trying to keep up with the elf.

“… Yvain Steelhammer…” whispered Dareley, “… yer name… is Yvain… ‘n yer a Knight o’ th’ Silver Hand…”

“… aye… that it is ‘n that I am…” she replied in a worried way, then something clicked in her head. Something about how he said that. “Wait… that voice…” she murmured, taking in his face. It looked younger, and it was made of stone… but… “… it cannae be. Poppa? Is that you?!” she asked.

As soon as she called him ‘poppa,’ Dareley jolted as if struck. The word echoed in his head as he stared at her face. Long dark hair, just like his had been in his youth… but those eyes, those emerald green eyes. Misti’s eyes.

“Nyloc you bastard… this is too cruel.” he whispered, walking slowly towards her.

“What happened ta ye?! Why are ye all stone ‘n metal?” she gasped, looking him over, “Why are ye here?! Where’s mum?” she asked.

Dareley took a deep breath, shuddering. He had imagined what he would say if he ever had the chance to meet his son or daughter, he had played it over and over in his head so many times over the years… but now, through some twisted miracle, it was really happening.

“… gone.” he whispered, “She’s… gone… she died when th’ Scourge invaded Lordaeron… ‘n…” he looked up at her, his expression one of shock and sorrow, “… ‘n ye died with ‘er. In this timeline, ye were never born.”

An hour later…

Yvain sat on a bench near the racks of drying meat on the deck, staring down at her feet as she processed what she’d just been told.

King Arthas Menethil, the most noble of paladins, who had made mistakes in his youth but had learned from them and become hailed as not only as a worthy successor to his father but also as the leader of the Order of the Silver Hand following Uther’s retirement… had become a monster in this timeline.

In her own timeline it had diverged the moment he had found Frostmourne. For her, he had rejected it’s whispers and begged the Light to return to him, which it did. He regained his connection and became a paladin once more, banishing Mal’ganis back to the darkness that spawned him and saving all of Lordaeron from the horrors of the Scourge.

In this one however, he had taken up Frostmourne instead… and had gone from fighting the Scourge to leading it. He had murdered his father, unleashed the Scourge upon Lordaeron City to slaughter everyone within and destroy his homeland, decimated both Quel’thalas and Dalaran, and eventually became the Lich King to wage war upon the entire world.

Her parents had been in Lordaeron City when Arthas had attacked it. Her father had managed to escape, leading as many refugees as he could to safety.

Her mother had been at one of the city’s inns when several ghouls had burst in through the door. She had tried to fight them back with a meat cleaver she’d found in the kitchen of the inn.

She had failed. She had died, and she had been pregnant with Yvain at the time… and Yvain had died with her.

“This is utter madness…” she whispered, “Ye cannae expect me ta believe this! Right before I wound up here I stood before King Arthas ‘n he knighted me! He’s a good, noble man! A great leader, th’ most faithful ‘n honorable of all paladin!” she nodded firmly.

Dareley shook his head, “… where yer from he is lass… but not here. That sword, Frostmourne, was what we call a mournblade. Th’ second he touched it it tore away his soul ‘n made him Zovaal’s slave. All it took was that one moment… ‘n he was th’ Lich King in waitin’.”

Yvain looked down at the ship for a long moment, her eyes running over the boards on the deck as she processed this. Finally, she spoke, “… ‘n mum really…”

“Aye… I tried ta save her… ran as fast as I could ta th’ inn we were stayin’ at when I realized what was happenin’… but th’ ghouls got there first.” he sighed. He could still picture it clearly. Misti’s corpse on the floor, the glassy look in her eyes, her stomach torn open, and the ghoul feasting on what it found within. He would never be able to forget that horrible sight. It was burned into his memories forever.

“I’m sure ye did all ye could poppa. It was a battlefield… ye cannae be everywhere at once.” she replied, putting a hand on his shoulder gently.

“Thank ye fer that Yvain.” he nodded, then sighed, “By th’ Light I never thought I’d say that name aloud…”

Yvain nodded slowly, “So… why are ye… this?” she asked, gesturing to his stone body and metal hair.

Dareley blew his lips out, which made an odd clinking noise as he did, “… that is a much longer story lass.” he replied, “But… I suppose it all started when I met that elf lass with th’ antlers ye saw on the deck earlier in Northrend when we went ta overthrow our version o’ Arthas.” he continued, eager to talk about anything else.

As he recounted the tale of his meeting Shalandrae, befriending her, and the two of them deciding to form Avalon, inside the ship sat the other three who had been thrown through time and space.

Loren let out a tremendous belch, patting her stomach as she pushed four empty plates away from her. “Absolutely bloody DE-LIC-IOUS!” she grinned widely, the woman back in her worgen form. She’d stated after using it to survive for two years following the end of her world she just felt weird in her human form now. “Ain’t had food like that since… well… ain’t had anythin’ good since ‘bout two years prior in me own timeline.” she shrugged.

“Yeah… you said that the war between the Alliance and Horde hit the point of no return huh?” asked Jaie, glancing at the plates. That woman had eaten enough food to feed Nitika for two days easily. The pandaren woman was having some flashbacks involving vulpera and eggs suddenly.

Loren leaned on the table, taking a long pull from a mug of Zhan-min’s Rockbreaker Rum, savoring the rich aftertaste. “Aye… With ol’ Andy dead th’ rulership o’ Stormwind fell ta a buncha gormless nobles who couldn’t see beyond th’ end o’ their own dicks… ‘n with Miss Night Warrior goadin’ ‘em on they remade th’ mana bomb ‘n blew Orgrimmar straight ta th’ Nether, but it wrecked everyfin’ else too.”

Shalandrae leaned on the table, thinking on that. Oh, how she’d wanted to see that city burn after Teldrassil… but Loren came from a timeline where that’s exactly what had happened apparently, and the rest of Azeroth burned along with it. It was giving the druid quite a lot to think about.

Xhu Pai sat there in silence, the pandaren woman staring vacantly at her half-full plate. She’d tried a few nibbles, but her appetite wasn’t there.

She had been eager to find a solution when she’d first arrived, but that was under the assumption that she’d just been teleported somewhere unfamiliar. Find a mage, get a portal, problem solved.

But she’d found out she wasn’t just in the wrong place, she was in the wrong time. She remembered Jaie, her Jaie, telling her about meeting another version of herself, and about meeting their friends as well. She remembered how one of those people had been a human wizard with glasses and dark hair… and that the person who had greeted them when they came to the ship (she was able to remember, she had just been trying her best not to scream at the time) fit that description perfectly.

She glanced over at Jaie again.

Not Jaie.

Yet, it was her… and yet it wasn’t.

She fought down the building panic attack. They said they knew dragons. The dragons could get them home. She had to hold onto that thought. She had to cling to it as tightly as she could. Wait for the dragons and all would be well.

Seated at the far end of the table from her was Zul’zanza, the troll having partaken of just some dried meats. The pandaren-style cooking was far too… strange… for him. He was dealing with what was going on almost as bad as Xhu Pai was… just in a different way. He bottled it in, he ignored it. He knew something had gone wrong, but he was a witch doctor. He could figure out magic, given enough time.

“One thing I don’t yippin’ get…” muttered Jeemjazo as he sat at the table with his footpaws up on it, drinking ale straight from a flask he kept on him while he did his rounds. “We got how ye lot are connected ta what happened…” he pointed to Xhu Pai, “Jaie’s girl…” he pointed to Loren, “Nelen’s cousin…” he pointed to the door, “Dareley’s daughter…” he nodded (Shalandrae had explained after they were all inside,) then glanced over at Zul’zanza, “But we don’t know who th’ feck ye are. All of ye are connected ta our guys what fought Nyloc that day. Ye gotta be connected ta our buddy Mola, but how?” he asked.

Zul’zanza shrugged, “Don’t fookin’ know. Never heard o’ dem.” he replied honestly. He had never heard the name before. Maybe the spell had just gone wild and grabbed a random troll? From what they described magic had gone haywire in a very big way. He didn’t know time magic, but he could recognize a spell going crazy. That’s why he preferred to bargain with the Loa. Let them handle the heavy lifting, he’d pay the price for their help gladly to avoid messes like this.

Just then, the door to the galley opened and someone walked inside. “Sooooooooo…” said a masculine voice with a trollish accent.

Mola’raum walked into the galley, his glave slung over his shoulder. “Bumped inta Ed in Dornogal… it got fookin’ weird on us eh?”

Jaie nodded slowly, “Oh it got very very weird on us Mola’raum.” she replied in an exhausted tone.

Zul’zanza saw him, the witch doctor raising his jerky to his mouth under his mask and very slowly, very carefully, biting a chunk off as the wheels spun in his head. He thought frantically as he kept his expression as neutral as he could.

He did know him. He had seen his face.

By all the Loa he hoped Mola’raum hadn’t seen his.

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