#and elizabeth not allowing herself to love nick

[two-sheep-in-one-wolfs-clothing]

we talk about lots of different jegulus variants but when are we going to talk about THEM

“Got on my first 747, and you didn’t come after me.”

“I didn’t know that you wanted me to.”

[daevastanner]

P R E L U D E

This is the love story of an orphaned priestess and a heartbroken spymaster. It is not for the poets or the scribes, but rather, for the dreamers. For those who look at the stars from the bars of a cell or the stained glass of a temple, and wish.

P A R T I

“You should be with someone who’s crazy about you, Jess.”

“That’d be really nice if it was coming from someone who hadn’t just punched me in the face.”

– Nick and Jess in Elizabeth Meriwether’s “New Girl” ep. 6 s. 2, directed by Jesse Peretz

“You’re not staying?” Nesta asked.

Azriel averted his gaze, straightening his bracers. For whatever reason, answering her question felt like he was confessing a secret. “No, I promised Berdara I’d give her a private lesson in dagger handling.”

To his relief, both Nesta and Cassian were both too preoccupied with the decrepit mortal village he’d winnowed them to to notice his unease. Why admitting such an arbitrary detail felt so disconcerting was beyond Azriel. He was Gwyn’s trainer after all. Trainers met with trainees one on one to help them further their skills all the time.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” Azriel said mildly.

He didn’t linger, allowing his shadows to swathe him in darkness and winnow him away.

Between one blink and the next, the shadows dissipated and Azriel found himself in open air outside the House of Wind. He spread his wings and banked forward, allowing the wind to carry him towards the opening that led to the training ring. Swooping downward, preparing to land, he saw Gwyneth Berdara already within.

As soon as his boots made contact with the ground, Azriel snapped his wings in, jogging to a stop when he realized the priestess was leisurely twirling a blade far too long and far too heavy for her.

His brows pulled together as he started across the ring towards her.

She was smiling at him, blissfully unaware that she was one wrong movement from seriously injuring herself.

Closing the distance between them, Azriel held out his palm, “Give me that.”

At the flat tone in his voice, Gwyn surrendered the dagger with a bemused expression. “My apologies, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel sent the weapon floating back to the weapon’s rack on a tendril of shadow, then reached into the bin of wooden sparring daggers, removing two. He handed one to Gwyn with a serious look. “Not only was that entirely the wrong size, but you could’ve put out your eye.”

Just saying the words gave him heart palpitations. Gwyneth Berdara had been through enough without carelessly blinding herself, or gods forbid, giving herself a nasty scar.

Gwyn’s expression was playfully grave. “Well, thank you for saving my best feature. I’d hate to lose it.”

While Azriel agreed that Gwyn’s eyes were certainly beautiful, he didn’t believe them to be her best feature. Her best feature, in his opinion at least, were her freckles. They dotted her skin like constellations in the night sky, reminding him vaguely of the stars he used to glimpse between the bars of his cell. They’d always given him hope during the dark days of his childhood. Much like Gwyneth Berdara. Because if Azriel had ruthlessly slaughtered four of Hybern’s soldiers and it had saved the life of someone so good, maybe there was hope for his soul after all.

Read the rest on ao3

@almosttenaciousmoon @vikingmagic33 @mystical-blaise @hlizr50 @headcanonheadcase @beaumaismortel

[utterlyvertigo]

- Look For The Light -

Agatha Harkness acted like a feral stray cat at the best of times, but the delightful hormones of pregnancy made that vibe all the worse. The vomiting, the craving, the crying, the whining, all of it just gave a certain je ne sais quoi upon Agatha’s already odd persona.

“How about… Lorna, seeing as we know she’s a girl?” Rio suggested, cradling a warm mug of fresh tea. “I’m not naming my child after Lorna fucking Wu, Rio. I have standards, Jesus.” Agatha huffed, taking a sip out of her own mug. “Have you got a better suggestion, your highness?” Chuckled the green witch, with a snort. “I do. Meredith? Astrid? Elizabeth? Cassandra?” Agatha replied.

There was a feeling of excitement within Agatha’s womb at the mention of those two names. The baby had made her point abundantly clear. “I think she likes at least one of your choices.” Rio smiled, delightedly placing a hand onto Agatha, feeling secretly relieved that it worked, that she had made life. “The only thing this proves is that you are never allowed to name anything, ever!” Quipped Agatha, with a triumphant.

“Rich coming from the woman who named her familiar Señor Scratchy.” Rio pointed out, gesturing to the gingerbread brown rabbit who seemed to be showing particular interest towards Agatha’s bump. “You and Nick going to be big brothers, aren’t you!” She cooed, taking him into her arms. Rio placed her forehead onto the bump. “Hello little one.” She whispered, her lips meeting the wriggling bump. The baby got restless at this point, which was reasonable, seeing as Rio was the real reason this baby was inside of her wife. “What have we decided, hm?” She asked.

Foetuses can’t speak, not even magical ones, so it was a game of trial and error. “Meredith?” The baby didn’t move. She didn’t react. “Astrid?” The same nothingness sat in Agatha. “How about Elizabeth?” And still nothing!

“Cassandra?” Agatha asked, which was met by a flurry of kicks and wriggles. “That settles it then, doesn’t it!” Rio said, with a smile. “Shame, I liked Astrid. Cute name.” She mused. “There’s always double barrelling? Middle names?” Agatha suggested. “There’s always having more kids!” Rio smirked.

Agatha felt a hot flush hit her face. “You… want more?” She asked, her voice cracking with a hopeful undertone. Before Nicolas, no- before Rio, Agatha decided she’d never have children, she feared she’d feel the loathing her mother felt towards her. But she didn’t. She loved her little boy, and she loved the baby inside of her. “Of course. I want you to carry all my little undead babies, Agatha Harkness.” Rio purred, sitting closer, pulling herself towards Agatha.

She could get used to this…

——/——/—— | Three Years Later | ——\——\——

“Tell me a story! Tell me a story!” Demanded the little girl, tugging on the purple cloth of her mother’s nightwear. “Cassandra, it’s way past your bedtime, we need to get you to bed.” The toddler was engulfed in purple magic, and gently dragged to her bed. “But I have a story every night!” Whined Cassandra. “Which means you don’t have to hear the same one for the umpteenth time!” Agatha complained. Ever perpetually stubborn, Cassandra pulled out the one weapon she knew made her mother fold like an origami swan.

The eyes.

She was Agatha in every sense except Rio’s big wide eyes. And with the right sweet little smile, those eyes would make Agatha agree to anything.

“Cassandra Astrid Mun, don’t give me that look little lady!” Agatha demanded, already well aware she was being manipulated by a three year old, but secretly completely tempted. “I promise I’ll go to sleep right after! I pinky promise!”

“Fine! You win you little shit.” Agatha huffed, sitting herself on the bedspread. “Move over then!” She laughed, trying to get comfortable.

“Once upon a time…”

[braveclementine]

Chapter 42

Warnings: 18+readersonly, smut, derogatory names, pet names, captain kink, sergeant kink, praise kink, degrading, teasing, choking, oral

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC: Elizabeth Y/L/N (created so you don't get Y/N and Y/S/N consistently mixed up. I do not condone any copying of this.

"AH, COME HERE MY FAVORITE SONS." ODIN said, opening his arms and Loki and Thor walked into him. Odin hugged the both of them and then said happily. "And here's my second lot of favorite sons. And my favorite daughters."

You snorted. Odin's favorite sons being Loki and Thor. His second favorite sons being literally all of the other Avenger males as you had all been married in one big ceremony like Frigga had promised Elizabeth.

"I must say." Odin continued, "It is good to see all you back together. I was afraid that events wouldn't work out for the best."

You were extremely tired from the trip so you retired back to your room while the others settled in the banquet room.

Elizabeth had recovered perfectly and was in as good spirits as ever. Virtus Auctor was in custody and Nick Fury had grilled him before shipping him off to the raft. Apparently, he was a shapeshifter so he had to be watched carefully.

The way that he had found your sister was through a tracking device that had been put inside of her when she had first been taken. She had to undergo surgery, which had resulted in Stephen passing out from the pain of them operating directly on his soulmate mark. But once the tracking device was out, Bucky took great pleasure in destroying it.

Elizabeth had also agreed to being part of the 'Sexvengers' as Clint had decided to call the group. She had seemed extremely disturbed by some nightmares she'd had before her heart had failed her and didn't want to not take part in it.

You weren't sure if that was a good reason to take part in something you didn't know if she wanted to be part of in the first place, but she couldn't be deterred.

Your room was right next to Thor's, even with adjoining doors. You immediately collapsed on the bed, and fell fast asleep.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"YOU SURE DOLL?" BUCKY ASKED GENTLY as Elizabeth stumbled over her words, blushing darkly. "You know you don't have to prove anything to Stevie and I?"

"I want to." Elizabeth mumbled, looking down at the floor.

"No." Steve said, cupping her chin and making her stare directly into his eyes. "You gotta tell me for sure you want to do this. Look me in the eye. I don't want to push you."

"I want you." Elizabeth replied fiercely, blushing.

"Alright." Steve kissed her gently and then looked at Bucky, "Start stripping."

Elizabeth felt her knees turn to water at the simple command. And she felt herself grow more aroused than before as she watched Bucky comply.

She hadn't approached Steve and Bucky because she felt she had something to prove. She truly did want to bond with them. She knew Bucky had caught her when she'd collapsed. She knew that Steve and Bucky loved her.

Bucky had been extremely affectionate with her in the hospital and during recovery. He did her hair every single day and gave her sweet kisses. Steve was the one that pushed her in her physical therapy and one of the reasons- besides Frigga of course- that she recovered so quickly.

Oh, and Bucky also let her eat things she wasn't allowed to eat during recovery.

Steve himself stripped, before he removed her clothes from her body. He nipped at her skin gently while caressing her.

Bucky moved to lay down on the bed with his back against the headboard. Steve picked Elizabeth up and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Steve laid her down on the bed, kneeling before he started to lap at her cunt. Elizabeth's breath hitched in her throat, her hands grasping the bed sheets. She let out a shout of euphoria that left a ringing in her ears, and it didn't help that Steve was eating her out like a man starved.

She looked upside down at Bucky who immediately moved his hands to her hair. He released her hair from her long braids, shaking the strands out.

He plunged his hands into her hair before bending over and kissing her at the same time Steve sucked her clit in between his teeth. She squealed into his mouth and then he was murmuring against her ear, "God I love you doll."

Elizabeth shook as she released into Steve's mouth, gasping wildly against Bucky's mouth.

"Your turn." Steve said lowly, licking his lips as he pulled away slowly.

Bucky kissed Elizabeth deeply again, before he shifted around to the front. He lapped Elizabeth up eagerly, plunging two thick fingers into her cunt as he ate her out.

Elizabeth gasped, back arching, hands twisting the bedsheets. "B-Bucky."

Steve caressed Elizabeth's face gently, worshipping her body, pressing small, quick kisses to every inch of her skin that he could reach. Nipping, littering love bites across her shoulders, back, and chest.

Bucky held Elizabeth's hips down with his metal hand, using a third finger now to start warming her up. Elizabeth was gasping, eyes rolling back into her head. She could feel the familiar hot flashes coming on as her body got worked up, before she released on Bucky's fingers.

Bucky pulled his hand away slowly, before teasingly licking his fingers, savoring the taste.

"Think you're ready?" Steve murmured in Elizabeth's ear and she nodded.

"Ah." Steve took her face in his hand. "Words doll."

"Please?" She begged. "I'm so ready Steve."

Steve gripped under her thighs, pulling her upwards, before he practically threw her into Bucky's lap. He positioned himself over her, moving his thick prick through her sopping folds. Elizabeth's breath hitched at the way they were treating her- like a literal doll. Bucky's hands came up to mess with her breasts.

Steve plunged in swiftly, Elizabeth's back arching, pushing her soft mounds into Bucky's hands. She cried out in pleasure, which enticed Steve to fuck her faster.

In her attempt to close her thighs from the overwhelming pleasure, Bucky grasped her thighs in his hands, pulling them further apart, before moving his left hand closer, circling her clit in a teasing motion.

"Captain please." Elizabeth begged, a hand reaching out, grasping Steve's dirty blond hair in one hand, the other groping, trying to find Bucky's metal arm.

Steve's prick twitched inside of her at his title, something he had never been called in bed before by anyone. Everyone called him Steve, sweetheart, or doll. And hearing his title fall from his soulmates' lips was what caused him to snap his hips harder than he had before, releasing into her immediately. He felt her orgasm wash over him in sync.

"Good girl." He groaned, capturing her lips with his.

Steve pulled from her warmth gently, before pulling her into his arms. Holding her body weight with no problems, he settled her down on Bucky's standing prick. She whimpered, hands going straight to Bucky's chest as his girth stretched her walls.

Bucky rolled straight over to pin her into the sheets, before pulling out so that only the tip of his cock was still inside her folds, before pushing back in with rough, harsh motions.

Elizabeth once more reached for his metal hand, which had been sitting very lightly on her hip. She grew a little pink, hoping that Bucky would be okay with her next action.

Bucky didn't stop fucking her, letting her holding his hand- or at least he thought she was just going to hold his hand- before he could feel where she put it- her neck.

He didn't break rhythm, building up for the orgasm that was somehow already approaching. He squeezed just slightly, and felt her stickiness wash over him.

"God you're such a little slut aren't you?" Bucky purred, rutting into her harshly.

Behind him, Steve panicked internally. He had forgotten to tell Elizabeth that Bucky loved degrading everyone he fucked. He realized that Elizabeth probably wasn't going to take kindly to the comment and he could also feel panic through Bucky's bond, though Bucky didn't stop his motions.

"No." Elizabeth whimpered, hands clutching his hair. "I'm only your slut sergeant."

Bucky exploded inside of her, white strands coating her inside walls. He thumbed her clit furiously, before feeling her cum once more, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Bucky pulled out slowly, breathing deeply. Her comment had made his head spin in the best ways.

She was going to be the death of him.

Steve was the one to grab washcloths, cleaning the three of them up.

Elizabeth snuggled up between the two of them, clearly very blissed out. Steve curled around her protectively, his back to the door, making sure to keep her protected if someone was to burst through in the middle of the night.

Bucky reached out, cupping her face, before sheathing his fingers into her hair. God he loved her hair. "I'm sorry about the comment doll, I-"

"Bucky." Elizabeth whispered against his shoulder. "I like being degraded."

Bucky's heart skipped a beat and both Steve and Elizabeth felt his arousal through the soulmate bonds. Elizabeth giggled quietly and it wasn't long before she had fallen asleep.

Steve pulled the blanket around her shoulders, noticing the goosebumps on her arms. He felt so lucky.

Because at that moment, everything was how it should be.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"TONY PLEASE!" YOU BEGGED AS TONY'S fingers pressed down tightly against your clit, though he was refusing to let you cum.

You'd woken up to find Tony, Stephen, and Loki all waiting in your bed. They'd given you a slight heart attack, as you hadn't expected to wake up in a room full of soulmates. It hadn't taken long after that for Loki to tell you that there was four hours till the banquet, and that it was plenty of time to 'play'.

You were also getting a rather good introduction to the whole 'all Avengers fucking' thing as you watched Stephen on his knees, sucking Loki's cock.

On second thought, maybe you shouldn't have looked. You immediately orgasmed and Tony tsked.

You yelped, but went with it as Tony immediately rolled you over onto your stomach and tensed as you felt the five smacks against your ass.

Tony didn't even roll you back over to try again. He simply placed a hand on the small of your back, before his fingers were back to teasing your pussy.

"Fuck." Loki shouted behind you and you heard Tony chuckle.

Stephen climbed up onto the bed, kissing Tony deeply, which caused Tony to pinch your clit between his fingers. You yelped once more, body jerking.

"Oh pet." Loki said in fake sympathy, cupping your face. "Do you need some help?"

The goal was to beat your record at not cumming, which was 2 minutes and forty-five seconds, which had been extremely torturous. The prize was that you got to pick the next sexual activity, even if it meant that they were the ones submitting to you. But you only got four tries and you were on your last.

"What was the time on the last one?" Stephen asked mischievously, hands running down the sides of your body in a soothing motion.

"Two minutes, ten seconds." Tony said from behind you.

"Aw pet, you were so close." Loki teased.

"She has one more try." Tony smirked. "And then we win."

Ah yes, their bloody prize was absolute torture. You had to go a whole week, not allowed to cum at all, even if you were with other partners.

"You're- not- winning." You said through gasps, squeezing your walls around his fingers in an attempt to not cum.

"It looks like it to me pet." Loki drawled while Tony threw his head back as Loki's hand jerked up and down.

Tony's ministrations started to slow as he was thrown into the pleasure of Loki's hand so Stephen pulled you away, lifting your hips so that he could feast on your cunt. His long tongue delved into your quivering hole and he did his damned hardest to bring you to an orgasm.

You thrashed in his arms, attempting to get away from the ferociousness of his attack. Your thighs shaking hard as you tried to keep your orgasm from approaching.

Tony's moans grew louder and you squeezed your eyes shut, immediately trying to make a list in your head of farm chores.

1. Get up with the sun way to early in the morning.

2. Go and milk the cows.

"C'mon pet, you can cum now." Loki teased, knowing perfectly well what would happen if you did.

3. . . . 3. Right, put the milk in the special container for purifying the milk.

4. 4! Go out to the- the chicken coop and you had to get the eggs.

Stephen sucked your clit between his teeth, his tongue lavishing the tiny nub, rubbing patterns into it.

FIVE!!! Go to the Sheep pasture and collect any loose wool. Perhaps you might even shear one that day.

SIX. GO TO THE PIGS AND FILL UP THE TROUGHS!

"Two minutes forty-six seconds." Loki said in disappointment.

You shattered against Stephen's mouth and he licked up every drop of juice you gave him before gently lowering your legs back to the bed.

Tony looked as dazed as you felt, white cum splattered across his chest with some still on Loki's fingers, which Loki was sucking up.

"That's a good girl." Stephen said warmly, washcloth suddenly in hand to take care of you. "Rest kitten, and you can get ready for the ball later."

"Yep." You mumbled, slumping into the soft pillows, and was asleep once more.

⬅️➡️

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: Elizabeth Olsen, Much Like Wanda Maximoff, Comforts Herself With Classic TV

W MAGAZINE: For W’s second annual TV Portfolio, we asked 26 of the most sought-after names in television to pay homage to their favorite small-screen characters by stepping into their shoes.

WandaVision was the first television show produced by Marvel Studios, and any gamble Disney+ took to make the series happen immediately paid off. At one point during its nine-episode run, WandaVision was the most popular streamed show in the world (beaten only recently by another Marvel series, Loki). The suburbia-set series received critical acclaim, snagging 23 Emmy nominations—one of those for Elizabeth Olsen, who was nominated for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Limited or Anthology Series or Movie for her performance as the titular Wanda—and convinced even the biggest Marvel skeptics to buy into its delicious plot.

It might come as a surprise, then, that Olsen doesn’t really watch that much contemporary television herself. But who could blame the actress, when most of her time is spent filming scenes for the Marvel Cinematic Universe as Wanda Maximoff (also known as the Scarlet Witch), a wielder of chaos magic who materializes in the small town of Westview—first as a 1950s-era housewife married to a humanlike robot named Vision (played by Paul Bettany), then as a ’60s housewife, then a ’70s housewife, and so on. When the actress does watch television, though, she prefers to get into some of those older shows, like Murder, She Wrote, which she chose to re-create above, and, of course, episodes of ’90s sitcoms like Full House, of which there was no dearth in the actress’s childhood.

My contract with Marvel was done. Kevin Feige, who runs Marvel, had me come into his office, and he pitched me WandaVision. I loved the concept of it, but I was terrified of a new streaming service—that is now Disney+.

Did you know the entire concept going in, or was it revealed to you over time?

He told me that he wanted to create a story about Wanda Maximoff manipulating reality to mimic the sitcoms that she grew up with in order to comfort herself. He wanted it to be kind of trippy, for it to feel like a sitcom, but twisted, kind of Twilight Zone-y. That reminded me of Twilight Zone: The Movie, where there’s a boy who is obsessed with television, has a horrible family, and he conjures up a bunny that kills his whole family. It’s really wacky. I just thought, It would be incredible if we do anything that’s a piece of that.

Were you personally a fan of I Love Lucy and other old sitcoms?

Yeah, I watched Nick at Nite all the time. I loved I Love Lucy, Laverne & Shirley. I didn’t like The Brady Bunch, but I loved the Brady Bunch sequel movies. That made me excited to get to reference The Brady Bunch [in WandaVision].

Did you shoot the episodes in order, or did you go back and forth between the 1950s and ’60s?

We tried to film everything in order. The exteriors, though, we hopped around. Our fences, the color of the houses, the flowers all look different from decade to decade. Luckily, it was pretty contained, but it really was sad to wrap the sitcom. We wrapped it when Paul and I and Kathryn [Hahn] and Teyonah [Parris] were filming the ’70s opening montage to the Brady Bunch theme, and that was how he wrapped it—in six bizarre outfits, with a pregnant belly on a tandem bike.

Did you keep anything from the set?

I’m not a keeper, because I feel like I’m not allowed to [keep things]. I feel like everything goes into some box that they hide from everyone, then maybe eventually they’ll retire and reuse shit. I have no idea.

I thought you might keep Wanda’s apron!

That would have been a really impractical apron. It was made out of gauze. Anything would bleed right through it.

Do you have an understanding of women in each decade now? Did you have to wear the undergarments and the whole nine yards?

Yeah. I loved the undergarments. It’s all helpful for the time, for the character, for how women move, how they talk. The shoes were the worst. I did wear vintage period shoes. And that’s awful. My feet don’t even like heels, let alone heels that have quite literally no support.

Is it difficult to have kissing scenes with all the purple paint on Paul Bettany when he’s dressed as Vision?

It’s really hard. It comes off on me, even though they try as much as they can to powder him. They have to powder his hands all the time, because if he wants to touch my face… They have to be on top of us for those scenes. It’s really not practical.

So which character did you decide to play for our portfolio?

I decided to be Angela Lansbury [as Jessica Fletcher] in Murder, She Wrote. I asked my friend Clayton Hawkins, who’s a hairstylist and great with wigs, if he could get a cheap wig and wrap my hair. And that’s what we did. I was watching Murder, She Wrote in London a lot.

During lockdown?

I was filming there, and in and out of lockdowns, but filming through lockdowns as well. And that was one of the things that would be on the television. I think I never really sat down and watched Murder, She Wrote until then. It’s fabulous. Great guest stars, great whodunits. My favorite moment is when they solve it and play it out for you in the solving of the mystery and going backwards. It’s just delicious, and it feels good to watch. There’s a great horse-racing episode that I loved, because I love the racetrack.

Did you have a TV show you loved growing up?

I never did Dawson’s Creek, I never did any of those shows. What did I watch, though? I loved Family Matters, Step by Step, The Torkelsons. And I loved Full House. We had all the VHSs, and it was very easy to watch at my house.

Did you have a crush on John Stamos?

Yes.

Who was your cinematic crush when you were growing up?

Frank Sinatra. I didn’t know they were old movies that I was watching. So when you say “TV shows,” what I consumed as a child was all old musicals, like Oklahoma!, Guys and Dolls, Carousel, West Side Story. I loved classic musicals, and I was in love with Frank Sinatra. I would do scenes with him in my bathroom, which then turned into scenes with George Clooney as I got older and I realized Frank Sinatra was an old man. I was like, Well, maybe if I get older, I can at least work with George Clooney, as his daughter’s friend or something, and then we have a thing.

What was your first red carpet look? Was it for Martha Marcy May Marlene?

Yeah, Cannes was my first red carpet look. I was in the Row. I was in a black Row skirt and a lace top, and I didn’t have an undergarment on. I didn’t know that flash photography at night was going to be my enemy, and my publicist worked really hard to try and remove those pictures from the Internet. [Laughs]

Do you have a secret skill?

You know what I’m really good at? Removing stains. I believe I can remove a stain from anything.

How did you learn to remove stains?

Probably started with my mom, who’s a soaker. That’s kind of the first rule: patience. And then, because I cook so much, I think I just had to learn. I’m pretty “woman of the house” handy.

I thought you were going to say that your secret skill was that you can sell real estate. Because when I first met you, you had a real estate license.

I did. It’s definitely expired. I got my real estate license because I didn’t want to work in a restaurant in New York as a summer job. So I thought, I’ll work in a real estate office. I was dealing with my sister’s friend who was a realtor, and I dealt with his rental clients. And I would mispronounce streets in New York all the time, because I had just moved there.

Press: Elizabeth Olsen, Much Like Wanda Maximoff, Comforts Herself With Classic TV was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[smnthchrstn]

trick or treat | foxxay

author’s note: hi! this drabble is actually a request by @alwaysjourney​ i’m so sorry it took so long to write it! it’s basically foxxay getting ready for their first normal halloween together & cordelia takes misty trick or treating. it’s soft, no content ratings. ask is open for foxxay requests now. thank you for reading! the word count is 1,140.

"If it's tails then I get to pick ours - and if it's heads then you get to pick ours," Misty explained, a huge smile growing across her face. "Mm, I don't think that's fair," Cordelia pointed out. "Both of our costumes? Why can't I choose yours and you choose mine? Are we trying to match?" the Supreme asked, setting down the magazine she'd been fumbling through. "It doesn't have to match, I just thought it sounded fun," the swamp witch revealed, a small pout forming on her lips. "Okay, okay. We'll try it. Why don't we pick each other's costume then?" Misty could agree to that.

For Cordelia - knowing that she could get Misty to dress up as anything in the world really opened her eyes. She knew the most predictable and probably the best choice for Misty. And it'd be so easy. She already had all the clothes she'd need for the role. As for Misty's choice - she'd been absolutely obsessed with a television show, oddly enough. And after binge-watching the show three times through she knew exactly who Cordelia would be for Halloween that year.

It was their second time celebrating Halloween together, Misty's first in a long time. She'd never really been able to celebrate it, though. Her parents never allowed her, the congregation had strict rules against celebrating the "Devil's holiday". The concept of dressing up and having people give you free candy seemed too good to be true to her.

It hadn't taken long for Misty to get the pieces for Cordelia's costume together. Coco knew how to sew and Mallory picked it up quickly, making for a magic-free costume assembly. "She's going to look so great in this, Misty," Mallory agreed, finishing up the last few stitches of the dress. "I know," the older witch admitted with a cheesy grin.

Cordelia stood in her bedroom, dressing a mannequin and humming along to "Storms" by Fleetwood Mac as she moved - swaying her hips and mumbling words. She finished and clasped her hands together, smiling to herself at her work. It looked perfect. It wasn't hard to put together, but it would most certainly work. She had her concerns about taking Misty out trick or treating - they were adults and some adults weren't so kind to young adults in costume. She had a feeling that she could keep the bullies away and give Misty one special night that she'd never gotten as a child.

Misty nearly shoved the pizza down her throat, swallowing one small piece in one bite without any chewing on her part. "You have to slow down, you're going to choke!" Zoe exclaimed. "If she does, Mallory can bring her back," Coco pointed out with a shrug. It'd happened way too many times to count. "I wanna get out there," the swamp witch stated, standing up to look out the dining room window. "People are turnin' their lights on, what does that mean again?" she asked. "It means that they're letting trick or treaters know that they're passing out candy," Zoe explained. Misty nearly bounced with joy, so excited for this mysterious activity that she didn't get the opportunity to partake in. "Looks like it's just about time to get dressed," the Supreme agreed, smiling softly as she entered the dining room. "You haven't eaten yet, Delia," Misty reminded her. "I'm saving room for candy," the older witch responded, her lips curling into a tight smile.

"Oh my God, I love it!" Cordelia smiled to herself as she heard Misty in the bathroom, fumbling around with her costume. "It's so great, Delia. How'd you know I'd love this?" she asked, stepping out of the bathroom completely decked out in her full Stevie Nicks costume. "Oh Misty, you look incredible," the Supreme complimented, stepping forward to fix her hat slightly. It didn't take long for Misty to begin twirling in her new shawl. "You want to know a secret?" Cordelia teased, coming in closer to the swamp witch. "Those are Stevie's - not just the shawl, but all of them," she revealed with a devious smirk. 

"I don't know, Misty. This is an awfully, uh, interesting costume you've picked out." Cordelia truly had no idea what she'd put on and if she'd put it on correctly. She wasn't used to wearing things this tight. "I'm sure you look great," Misty called back, kicking her legs near the foot of the bed. "Okay, I'm coming out now," she warned. Cordelia opened the door and stepped outside - donned entirely head to toe in her Scarlet Witch outfit, specifically from Wandavision. "Is my hair supposed to be fixed in a certain way? There's a headpiece here, but I'm just not sure where it goes or how my hair should be," the Supreme admitted. "Oh my God, you look fantastic!" Misty exclaimed. "I knew you'd look good, but even you made this costume even hotter, Delia," the swamp witch commented, a small smirk on her face. The older witch's face flushed a little, a blush seeping over her cheeks. "Sh," she whispered, shaking her head slightly. "You look amazing," the younger witch promised her after fixing her headpiece. "Elizabeth Olsen would be so proud!" Cordelia didn't know who that was - but smile either way, glad that she'd received Misty's seal of approval. 

"I have to admit, my feet are startin' to ache," the Stevie Nicks look-alike stated after an hour or so of walking around the neighborhood. "I'm getting a little tired, but are you at least having some fun?" Cordelia asked. "Oh, of course. Look at all this candy we've gotten," the younger witch pointed out, lifting her pillowcase filled with candy. "Do you want to go home now?" Misty shook her head. "I ain't no quitter. Let's finish this."

"Gummy bears and Twix bars and Skittles. God, I love Skittles. They look like a rainbow in a bag," the swamp witch explained as she dumped a fun-sized bag into her mouth. Mallory laughed softly and took one of the pieces that Misty had offered to share with her. "Thanks for sharing, I know you were excited about tonight," the youngest witch said. Cordelia smiled softly, glad that Misty had a good time. "I'm going to head upstairs - have to start peeling my costume off," Cordelia teased. "You really do look good, Ms. Cordelia. Misty did a great job," Mallory commented. "Thank you," the Supreme responded. "Wait, Delia," Misty said quickly, jumping up and following behind her as she left the room. "Wait for me." Cordelia turned to face her. "Why? You can keep sorting your candy. I'll be upstairs," the Supreme reminded her. "I don't want you to take off your costume," she admitted. "Why not?" 

"Because I'm the one who should be takin' it off," Misty smirked. Cordelia raised an eyebrow and shrugged her shoulders. "Very well."

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Santa Makes a House Call

So @expected-kiss I’m your @newsies-secretsanta! I hope you love the little story I’ve written you!  I had a lot of fun writing this! Enjoy!!!

“The only reason I’m willing to dress as a Santa is the cookies. The absolute only reason.” Race raised an eyebrow at Spot’s confession. 

“They’re our nieces and nephew. You’re not willing to do it for them?” Race asked, giving his husband a look. “Are you saying you won’t do the same for our kids?” 

Spot leaned against the counter, giving him a look. “Are you trying to tell me something?” 

“I would hope you’d want our children to see the magic of Santa by dressing up for them.” Race shrugged. 

Spot sighed. “You’re evil.” 

“Please do this.” Race leaned over, kissing Spot. “Addie, Ben, and Josie are going to remember this for a long time.” 

A thin smile stretched across Spot’s mouth. “Until they realize that Uncle Spot ruined their childhood dressing up as Santa.” 

“Well let’s hope they’re older teenagers before they find out.” Race shrugged, stealing a cutout cookie. 

A groan escaped Spot’s mouth. “I’m sending them to you and Jack when they find out.” 

“So you’ll do it?” Race grinned, popping the last of the cookie in his mouth. 

Spot shook his head. “You’re a menace.” 

So a couple of days later, all dressed in a Santa suit, Spot rang the doorbell of Jack and Kat’s house, hiking up a red velvet bag full of presents for the three children. The door swung open, followed by a loud laugh. “I hate you so much.” 

“Why Santa, you came!” Jack’s cheerful voice sounded back as he allowed his brother-in-law into the house.  

Following Jack into the living room, he grinned seeing Kat and Race in there along with the three children who had stilled at the sight of the Jolly St. Nick. “Ho Ho Ho!” 

“Santa! What are you doing here?” Addie, the eight year old, gave him a look as he took a seat in the oversized chair, propping the velvet red bag beside him. “You’re supposed to be here in two days. Dontcha have a lot of work to do at the North Pole?” 

Spot looked at his niece and should’ve known she would have all the questions. “I got a special message that there were some extra good girls and a boy at this house and I should make a visit before Christmas.” 

“But aren’t ya busy at the north pole?” She asked, taking a hesitant step forward towards him. 

Spot tilted his head as his lips slid into a grin. “The elves are very busy making sure my sleigh is packed with all the presents for the good little girls and boys.” 

Josie and Ben, who were 6, stood back by Kat, wide eyed and not moving. “Well, who do we have here?” 

“That’s my brother and sister . . . but shouldn’t you know their names, Santa!” Addie looked at him, tilting her head. 

Spot chuckled, holding his pillow belly. “Of course I know their names . . . Josie and Ben! Have you been good this year?” 

Their heads slowly nodded, looking at one another before looking back at Santa. “I’ve been good . . . Josie and Addie not so much.” 

Kat’s eyes went wide as her son threw his sister under the bus in front of Santa. A chuckle escaped her mouth as she looked at Jack who was shaking his head. 

“Now I believe I was told that all the kids, including your mom and dad have all been on their best behavior this year.” Santa continued, looking at them through the gold rimmed glasses he had on. 

Addie giggled. “Mom and dad aren’t kids, Santa.” 

“They can be young at heart, right?” Santa argued back, giving her a look with a grin. 

Shrugging, she stepped forward, leaning on the arm of the chair. “Santa?” 

“Yes, Addie?” Spot looked amused at his niece, who normally wasn’t shy at all, all of a sudden clamming up. 

“Can I put in a last minute request for a Christmas present?” She asked, innocently as Spot looked over at Kat and Jack. 

Spot grinned. “You can ask but I don’t know if the elves will be able to make it happen.” 

“Okay.” She sighed, before looking at him. “I want a puppy for Christmas.”

Spot chuckled. It was a debate Addie had been having with Jack and Kat for at least the last six months. Jack and Kat said no but she was trying every angle to get the puppy. 

“What do your mom and dad say about a puppy?” Santa’s eyes went wide as he looked at the eight year old. Sighing, Addie bit her lip. “They said no.” 

“Unfortunately, Santa has to have parental approval for any presents delivered.” Santa sighed. “I do wish I could bring you a puppy, Addie but mom and dad get final approval for presents that I deliver Christmas Eve night.” 

Sighing loudly, Addie nodded, looking over at her parents. “No puppy?” 

“Sorry, kiddo.” Jack walked over and crouched down in front of her. “No puppy this year. Maybe when you get a bit older.” 

As Jack pulled Addie into his arms, Josie walked up to Santa and gave him a look. “Hey Santa?” 

“Yes, Josie?” Spot tried to keep the chuckle from escaping but he failed as the young girl gave him a look. 

“I thought you’d be bigger.” She grinned, looking much like her mother who had an evil streak beneath all the lovingness. “Did you go on a diet this year?” 

Race threw his head back and laughed as Kat and Jack quietly chuckled at their daughter’s question. “Mrs. Claus has me on a bit of a diet . . . telling me that I need to take it easy so that I can have all those cookies on Christmas Eve.” 

“Oh.” She looked over at her uncle with a grin. “What’s so funny, Uncle Race?” 

“Just you Josie.” He wiped tears away from his eyes. “Do you want to ask Santa for anything?” 

Popping out her hip, she tapped her finger against her mouth, humming as she thought. “I want a skateboard.” 

Eyes wide, Santa looked over at Kat, who slowly nodded her head. “I will have to check with mom and dad but if I was to drop one off, what color would you like?” 

“Pink.” She quickly spoke, grinning. Before he could say another word, she wrapped her arms around his shoulder in a quick hug. “Thanks Santa!” 

She bounced over to where Kat was sitting as Santa looked at Ben. “Ben, do you have anything you want?” 

“A fire truck!” He yelled, throwing his arms up in the air with great excitement. 

Spot nodded, looking at the little boy. “I’m sure I can find a place for a fire truck in my bag.” 

“Can the kids get a photo with you, Santa?” Kat asked, holding up her cell phone, giving her brother-in-law a wicked grin. Spot held back his groan, knowing this photo will be on full display for many years to come. 

Josie and Ben both sat on Santa’s lap while Addie leaned against the chair. All three had cheesy grins on their faces while Spot’s lip drew upward in a smile. Kat took several photos before instructing the kids to give Santa a hug before he had to go. 

“Uhhh . . . Santa?” Addie bit her lip, looking up at the man. 

Tilting his head, Santa gave her a look. “Yes, Addie?” 

“Why do you smell like Uncle Spottie?” She asked, eyes widened with curiosity. 

Spot’s eyes flew to Jack and Race, who snorted and tried to keep the giggles in. “Who’s uncle Spottie?” 

“It’s Uncle Race’s ‘usband.” Addie rolled her eyes, giving the man a look. “Thought you knew who everyone was.” 

“I know a Sean, who’s married to Uncle Race but I don’t know anyone named Spot.” Santa smoothly lied as Addie shrugged. “And we must use the same shampoo.” 

Jack chuckled, walked over to pick up Addie. “How about we let Santa get back to the north pole? You need to get to sleep because if you don’t, then Santa’s not coming to this house. Tell Santa, goodbye.” 

“Bye Santa. Thank you for stopping by our house.” Addie grinned, wrapping an arm around Jack’s shoulders to steady herself. 

Spot leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’re welcome sweet girl. Merry Christmas, Addie, Ben, and Josie.” 

And with a wink, he made his way out the door. 

Ten Years Later

“Wait, you’re telling me that Uncle Spot was Santa all those years ago?” Addie’s eyes were wide as she looked between her parents and uncles. 

Nodding, Spot grinned. “You hit a little too close to home when you said that Santa smelled like me.” 

“I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on it when your dad and Uncle Race started laughing in the corner.” Kat shook her head, looking between her brother-in-law and her husband. 

Josie, Ben, and Addie looked at one another, laughter bubbling in their mouths. “Wow, who’s genius idea was it to have Uncle Spot dress up?” 

“He lost a bet actually.” Race shrugged. “Your mom asked us if we would dress up and he kinda lost a bet.” 

Spot’s eyes went wide. “Actually, you pressured me into dressing up, using our future children to guilt me if my memory serves me correctly.”

“Alright old man, whatever you say.” Race rolled his eyes, looking over at their own children, who were now teenagers themselves. 

Rose Elizabeth and Milo James were their pride and joy at fourteen years old. Spot and Race adopted them and loved them fierce, watching the two growing up. 

“So wait.” Rose called, giving the four adults a look. “So that photo you have of me and Milo with Santa, is that you papa?” 

Spot chuckled, shaking his head. “No. That was your uncle Jack. Payback was hell.” 

“Yeah and if I remember, there were threats involved with me dressing up.” Jack looked at his brother-in-law. 

Spot held his hands up innocently. “Uhhh I just remember guilting you and reminding you of how amazing of a Santa I was.” 

“I don’t know if I would use the word amazing.” Jack cracked a grin, scooting the chair back to escape the hit that was aimed his way. 

Milo laughed. “I think I may have been more scared of Santa after that visit . . .”

“Oi!” Jack cried. “I was a jolly old Santa. You and Rose ate it up. If I remember correctly, you sat happily on my lap and told me allllll the things you wanted that year.” 

Kat laughed. “You two were four when that happened. Our kids knew the secret but kept up the act for you two.” 

“And you two were so excited that Santa had visited your house that you ended up taking that photo in for show and tell many times and telling your classmates of the excitement of the season.” Race said happily, shaking his head. 

“Well, thank you Uncle Spot for initially dressing up as Santa.” Addie grinned. “That was pretty cool to do, even though you kept the secret from us.” 

Race laughed. “Could you imagine if you knew Santa was Uncle Spot? You never knew how to keep a secret as a young girl . . . the entire town would’ve known then Spot couldn’t go anywhere.” 

The laughter rose around the table as the four adults shook their head and the kids all laughed merrily.

[haberdashing]

Turning Saints Into The Sea

A brief account of the life and death of one Evan Lukas.

on AO3

Evan Lukas was never expected to be the Lukas family heir, and perhaps that was what saved him, or at least allowed him to get as far as he did.

His sister Anne was five years older than him. She resisted her younger brother’s attempts to get to know her at all costs, preferring to wander the grounds of the family estate on her own. She was coolly cordial to all who visited the family home, never grew attached to any of the ever-rotating cast of nannies and tutors who tended to the Lukas family children, eschewed music and stories in favor of sitting silently by herself.

She was, in short, a Lukas to the core.

Evan suspected that there was less pressure on him because her position as likely family heir was already clear by the time he was old enough to speak, or to have not speaking be a choice for him to make. Likely it was better than the alternative, all things considered.

Still, though, Evan wished he could have had a nice long conversation with his older sister at least once in his life, had a true meeting of the minds between the two of them. Maybe then he would understand her better, and she him in turn. Maybe then he would see the appeal in the loneliness that had been ground into her from such a young age, a loneliness than he himself never quite accepted.

Anne wasn’t Evan’s only sibling, though, at least not initially. A year and a half after he was born, another baby girl came along, a younger sister that was given the name Elizabeth. She came to use the name Lizzie, the name nicked from that of a character in one of her favorite novels.

Lizzie loved stories. She could devour novels in no time at all, and would spout off facts about her favorites to anyone who would listen and some who wouldn’t. She named the individual animals that lived upon the family estate and waved to them, greeting them enthusiastically as they passed by. If she wasn’t talking, she was usually singing or humming to herself, her presence clear from a distance if one simply listened closely enough. She once kicked one of her nannies for not letting her read a book and complained that her previous nanny was much nicer, even mentioning the previous nanny by name.

Evan assumed that Lizzie was informed at some point of how unbecoming her behavior was for a member of the Lukas family and that she just refused to adapt accordingly, but perhaps nobody spoke to her about it until it was too late. If they did, after all, it wouldn’t have been within young Evan’s earshot.

The children of the Lukas family were generally tended to separately as often as possible, so Evan hadn’t even noticed that he hadn’t seen Lizzie all day long until his mother announced at dinner that she had been sent away to live with distant relatives, never to return.

Evan always wondered if that was true. It was possible, certainly, but if Lizzie was living with relatives, they were distant enough that he never saw her again, not even at the funerals that seemed to be the one thing that always brought far-flung members of the Lukas family together. Sending her away like that would take an awful lot of work, too, and more than that, it would take an awful lot of coordinating with Lizzie’s new guardian(s)-to-be, many conversations necessitated by the transfer that were never the sort of thing his parents sought out if they could avoid them.

When Evan grew older, he wondered if Lizzie’s removal from the Lukas family had been rather more direct than he had been told, if she had been sacrificed to the family faith in a way more gruesome than a mere change of scenery, if she had been left to rot in the Lonely until nothing but her skeleton would remain on that strange and distant shore.

Evan was informed about the Lonely not long after Lizzie’s removal, and while the two were never directly connected, Evan always suspected that they had hoped to wait longer, wait until he was more ready for the information they would give him, but they wanted to explain their actions to him before he grew to resent them for taking away the only sister he ever really knew.

(If that was their goal, well, they were too late for that.)

Evan didn’t fully understand. Sure, being alone was nice sometimes, he could get that, but sometimes you had to spend time with people too. How could anyone spend all their time being lonely? How could you worship a god that was only one end of that spectrum? 

Evan’s elders tried to answer his questions, but their responses never quite made sense in his mind, and the frustrated looks on their faces made it clear that the feeling was mutual, that they couldn’t understand his position on the matter. Either Evan himself was missing something, or... or it was the rest of the family that was.

After a few cycles of mutual misunderstanding, Evan nodded and said that he would try his best, but he suspected that he was already branded as a nonbeliever by the time that discussion came to a close, much as he pretended to toe the family line for years thereafter.

Evan was surprised that his family let him go off to uni. Surely they knew that he’d make friends there, that he would be far less isolated than he had been living at home. Perhaps they’d expected that he’d only befriend kindred souls, others who knew what it was like to live on sprawling family estates and to be taught by a series of tutors and to have a family name that came with a meaning and a legacy attached, but that wasn’t the case; Evan knew that life well enough already, and he didn’t wish to dwell upon it further. 

Instead, he sought out people with lives vastly different than his own, people who had grown up trying to stand out from the crowd, people who spoke their mind without hesitation. Evan learned from them and was surprised to find that they were often eager to learn of his life in turn, that they found his experiences every bit as fascinating as he did theirs.

In his third year in uni, Evan went in on a flat with friends and sent a letter home stating that he had no interest in serving the Lonely or keeping up the Lukas family name, and that he was willing to accept whatever consequences would come of this. He received a letter shortly thereafter stating that he would not be inheriting the family fortune, that he would get a relatively small sum with which to finish his education and establish himself in the world and would then be entirely cut off from the family’s riches, and that he was not invited to the Lukas family functions (such as they were) any longer. The letter Evan got seemed polished, rehearsed, like it had been sent a number of times before and all they’d had to do was swap out a few names and details. Still, the overall outcome suited him just fine. He didn’t have any interest in remaining connected with the greater Lukas family anyway; it wasn’t as if there were much of a connection there to begin with.

Evan’s love of learning soon turned into a science degree and an interview for a lab assistant position in one of the UCL Biochemistry departments. Evan had known that the interview might well change his life, and it did in the sense that he ended up getting the job he was seeking, but as it turned out, it changed his life in more ways than one.

If Evan had been asked before that day if he believed in love at first sight, he would have vehemently denied it. Lizzie might have believed in such things, but Lizzie was gone, perhaps because of her clinging to such fanciful beliefs, and the world simply didn’t work like that from what he’d seen of it. Love had to come from connection, and connection had to come from time spent together. You couldn’t love someone you didn’t know, after all.

But when Evan first met the eyes of one Naomi Herne, another applicant waiting to be interviewed for that same lab assistant position, he knew in an instant that he loved this woman, even before he knew her name.

It wasn’t because she was particularly attractive--she looked nice enough, sure,  in a drab, professional sort of way, but if they had met on the street somewhere, if he hadn’t looked her in the eye, she wouldn’t have seemed like anything special to him and he might well have walked on by without knowing what he was missing.

But that look in her eyes when they locked eyes with one another was one Evan knew too well, one of loneliness that was part choice and part necessity, coupled with a muffled longing for connections that didn’t exist. It was a look that a younger Evan had seen in his own eyes time and time again.

And so, just as Evan had managed to extract himself from a life of loneliness, he set out to do the same for Naomi.

They talked to each other, a conversation that was as comfortable as it was enlightening, the two speaking at length both before he was called in for his interview and after she got out of her own. They went on dates, one after the other, Evan always fearing that Naomi would call things off and that this date would be the last, but it never was. Evan introduced her to his friends after learning that she had none of her own, and they always got along every bit as well with her as they had with him, willing to adapt to her customary loneliness as they had been to adapt to his. She moved into his flat, which soon became their flat, his assortment of shabby furnishings being completed by the addition of her own to the mix.

He said that he loved her, and she said it back with gleaming eyes that were anything but lonely now.

He thought about how to pop the question, but, well, this was something that his upbringing had left him entirely unprepared for, and Evan worried that she would say no, that she would leave him, that the love of his life would be gone forever, that he would taste loneliness once again for the sin of trying to move too quickly...

Two years after the job interview at which they met, Naomi bent down on one knee in the middle of a park and proposed to him, and Evan laughed a little, because he hadn’t expected her to beat him to the punch, before quickly and enthusiastically saying yes and kissing her on the cheek.

Evan and Naomi began to plan out their life together. Naomi wanted to have children, and while Evan hadn’t thought about it much beforehand, she won him over quickly enough when they discussed the matter. He liked the thought of it, really. A generation of Lukases that knew nothing of that huge, horrid place that he had once called home, a Lukas family that would never know true loneliness...

Perhaps he should have known that it was too good to be true.

Three and a half months before what was to be their wedding day, shortly after lunch, Evan suddenly keeled over at work, chest pain and weakness making him collapse onto the floor.

He wouldn’t live to hear the doctors’ descriptions of what had happened, wouldn’t know that he’d apparently suffered from a rare congenital heart problem all along, but in his last few seconds of consciousness, Evan suspected that somehow his family had gotten its revenge, that he had been doomed from the moment he was born a Lukas.

[suburbiashq]

                   cassel resident : kit gallagher.

full name. . catherine ‘kit’ gallagher. age. twenty eight birthdate. november 3rd, 1992          zodiac. scorpio. gender. female                            pronouns. she/her occupation. radio host / former musician lives in. main street.

                                       about kit gallagher.

TRIGGER WARNING: parental death, boat accident, car accident, injury description, minor suicide mention

Catherine has the subtlety of an earthquake, says Mrs. Gallagher, when her eldest daughter is around five years old. She didn’t know her words would last longer than herself, standing the test of time under the skin of an unrelenting woman. Catherine, or Kit, because Catherine sounds so serious, would grow up to be just that — seismic proportions, more havoc than human. Well, some could say she was some kind of natural tragedy.

Nick Gallagher had been a roadie (slash backup guitar, backup bass, backup producer) when he met neuroscientist Dr. Elena Rhodes in Chicago. At the time, he’d been more worried about Eddie Vedder’s concert schedule than starting a family. Similarly, Elena was concerned with her distinguished career: she had just obtained her PhD and was starting a teaching position at Northwestern, hoping to further her research into early diagnostics of neurodegenerative diseases. Being such different people, they didn’t even plan to see each other again after the initial attraction, so it was a surprise that they would be forever linked: even then, it seems their eldest daughter hardly ever sought permission to do anything. Their story starts backwards: first came the baby, then the love. Kit was a toddler when they decided to actually get married — more for practicality than anything. Elena was a canadian citizen and had just been offered a more financially advantageous position at the University of Toronto as deputy head of the Department of Neuroscience. Nick, on the other hand, felt pretty much lost for a while. He had never expected to be anything other than a musician — a business school dropout as he was, but he was smart and quick to adapt. While they were living in Toronto, he made a name for himself teaching music, or teaching rock and roll, as he would say, especially because of his classical training and the famous band names he was able to attach himself too. When they moved back to Cassel, he finally had enough money to start his business (and put those classes to good work). He bought a corner store that used to be a big pub for cheap — turning it into the bar/music venue of his dreams: Firehouse. It was modest, but just big enough for Cassel, IL. The one place where cool people went for a good time and good music.

Kit grew up in Cassel, a small house in the Meadows as background, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. She was early trained in critical thinking and classical music, which she understood as pillars of a life well-lived. To say she was an easy kid would be dishonest: Catherine was opinionated, to say the least, and she loved being right, which was a regular occurrence. She grew up watching amazing women rule the world around her, her mother at the forefront of adventure as a scientist and, for that reason, she grew to believe that she could do anything. Besides the constant annoyance of the little sister she loved, she figured her life was pretty perfect.

Until it wasn’t. In 2007, Dr. Elena Rhodes passed away under strange circumstances after a car accident, leaving a shattered family behind. Despite having two daughters to provide for, Nick was often overtaken by his grief, which meant that the girls’ grandparents had to step in and help the family get back on track. It was two years before they moved back to their own house. At sixteen, Catherine began to help around the bar and the rest of the town pretended they didn’t notice — helping the family business stay afloat or not, she was still a minor. The bar never lacked the clientele, but her father’s state the previous years made a mess out of many things. The death of her mother, her very own superwoman, made her retreat more into herself. While she spent the majority of her free time at the bar, her study hours were spent with her violin, her chosen instrument, in a type of self-imposed, focused solitude. As much of a coping mechanism as it was pure love, she threw herself into the music. In addition to her poignant personality, she became a tad unapproachable, resulting in the once popular girl becoming a person of fewer friends, even though she appreciated the fact that they were good ones. It was no surprise that she was accepted into the prestigious Juilliard music program — the surprise came with the rejection of financial aid.

After Nick almost sold the bar to send her to her dream school, Kit discovered that her mother had left her and her sister a tuition fund for college. It wasn’t enough to pay off everything, but the community of Cassel once again came around and helped her find summer jobs and promote Firehouse around the area. Soon enough, the business was back on track and thriving more than ever — enough that it became a town staple. And when the time came, Kit left for Juilliard. She graduated with honors and, despite her desire to stay in New York City, she couldn’t afford to — not when the competition meant that the job market was a bloodbath. After acquiring a reference letter from her mentor, she auditioned for several symphonies and orchestras, eventually landing a position at the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, where she worked diligently for a year as second violin.

In the beginning of 2017, when the 10th anniversary of her mother’s passing arrived, everything changed: as she drove up the way from Chicago to Cassel in a rental car, trying to arrive at the memorial on time, it crashed. The road conditions were already terrible because of the snow, but she had been rushing, which caused the whole thing to take a turn for the worse. Luckily, she survived, waking up four days later at the hospital, but as she took a look at her arm, for a second she wished she hadn’t. To save her movements on the broken arm they had to insert a giant nail, which made it impossible to hold the position required to play the violin — at once, she felt like she had lost everything again, grieving the mother she no longer had and the dream career that wouldn’t be.

Good morning, fellow suburbians, it’s time to rock and roll. It’s that time of the year again, so don’t forget to save water — if nothing else, you have an excuse to shower together. We’re starting slow today with the The Smiths, says Catherine, twenty years later. After half a year recovering, she decided she would permanently move back home to Cassel, moving back into her childhood home and working with her dad at Firehouse Lounge. Her family had been known around town, which brought attention to her mother’s accident and the untimely end to her career. The story caught the eye of an executive at the local radio station. At first, they brought her in to talk about music and work as an assistant producer. Then, trying to appeal to a younger crowd, the station started a live program, where she was once invited to give pointers to the local youth about getting into prestigious programs in North America. Kit was snarky, humorous and knew her music — unlike her peers at school, who were often intimidated by her presence, the public liked her. After almost a year, she was promoted to full-time radio host, now presenting daily music programs and a weekly podcast: The True Shrew, filled with real life, no bullshit feminist discourse, pop culture discussions and true crime. In the past year and a half, she gained a decent following, which allowed her to venture into social media and afford to leave her dad’s house — barely. Her sudden success was something she was grateful for. She might even tell you she wouldn’t have it any other way. If you know her, however, you’ll know how much she misses playing music. Some might even suspect that she is scared to go back into it, which is why she spends so much time commenting.

                                     five songs. angel of small death & the codeine scene ( hozier ) / arabella ( arctic monkeys ) / poltergeist ( banks ) / dark necessities ( red hot chili peppers ) / cool girl ( toye lo ) 

         ↳ kit gallagher is faced by elizabeth lail and penned by mia.

[taebadam]

act 2 pt. 2

oh boy. oh wow oh boy. now we get to my absolute favorite: you oughta know. get ready folks cause i have so so much to say. alright. so we cut to frankie and jo in new york where frankie is thanking jo for coming to pick her up since she lost her debit card and she didn’t want to “break down and call home.” jo is mostly silent, nowhere near her usual sarcastic self. she responds to everything frankie says in this flat, controlled tone just simmering with anger below the surface. i’m just gonna transcribe this whole scene because it shows so many things: how much jo really cares about frankie even though she’s pissed, how much frankie clearly hurt her and how frankie really didn’t realize what she was doing. frankie goes “that was pretty crazy back at my house. in fact i’m surprised you even showed up.” jo responds with little to no emotion in her voice other than underlying anger, just tight and quiet and closed off like she’s trying so hard not to lose it: “i’m your best friend. i’m not going to leave you stranded in a neighborhood you can’t even name.” “but you’re mad.” “can you guess why? or are you so far up your own ass these days you don’t even know?” “i’m really sorry. i was gonna tell you.” “and yet you didn’t. because you knew what you were doing was wrong.” “i didn’t think i was gonna fall in love with him.” “love? well congratulations frankie. i’m glad you found something healthy and rational. i’m clearly not as legit as your fuckboi phoenix.” “that’s not what i’m saying jo i just didn’t think you and i were in an exclusive relationship.” “right. why would you take this… (gestures to herself) seriously.” “you know i didn’t mean it like that.”

and in comes the music. ok so a few things. as jo starts singing frankie is standing behind her and jo’s deathly still, her voice still quiet as she just stares straight ahead. they’re the only two on stage. you can practically feel the tension in the air. everyone in the audience is on the edge of their seat. frankie starts to turn around and walk away until the first mini drop when you can feel something building and you know shit’s about to go down: when the guitar comes in and jo starts “a perfect version of me.” as soon as that guitar hits frankie freezes in her tracks and the soft light on jo starts to turn red. and wow is it about to get good. jo stays completely still as frankie circles back around while we get to the first pre-chorus, the “the love that you gave that we made wasn’t able…” part. as she does the pre-chorus the red light begins to expand around her but she still isn’t moving. her voice, however, even though it is still thin and controlled is starting to grow as the anger just continues to bubble up. she sings the first chorus just staring out into the audience, unmoving, and the tension just KEEPS BUILDING. frankie begins to back away just a little, like she’s beginning to realize just how angry and hurt jo really is. but we haven’t seen anything yet. we get to the second verse and the red lights continue to grow more intense as jo finally, FINALLY starts moving. she turns to look at frankie, staring her down, but she’s still controlled, still holding herself back. her voice gets a little more raspy, a little more intense but still not enough and everyone is holding their breath. once we get to “did you forget about me” she starts to stumble away a little bit, those mannerisms starting to shine through and we just barely start to see her truly devastated, exposed, vulnerable self. when she sings “are you thinking of me when he fucks you” she grabs frankie forcefully before pulling away. she’s starting to show more of her anger both physically and vocally. the pre-chorus comes back and that raspiness to her voice only increases, anger now finally starting to show on her face and she moves back, away from frankie and turns to finally start powerfully singing (though not yet screaming as she eventually gets to) “and i’m here!” it’s at this point that the band really starts to get loud. they come in from the wings and the volume jumps up. powerful red light fixtures drop down from the ceiling, flashing violently and one by one the ensemble runs up over the course of the second chorus to flank jo on either side. frankie doesn’t know what to do. and we’re still not even at the climax. then everything drops out as the ensemble starts singing “ooh” for the third verse. jo moves to the front, clearly starting to lose it as the ensemble walks around behind her, circling and enclosing frankie. jo isn’t even looking at frankie anymore, she’s holding her head in her hands and walking, pulling at her hair, eventually starting to join in with the ensemble. then she begins her high harmony and the anger on her face becomes more and more clear and as she sings higher and higher the ensemble moves from frankie to come stand beside jo. they all stomp their feet on the last “ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah… AHH!!” and jo’s high note. holy shit. and now everything’s been released.

she begins to go full screamo, dancing with the ensemble, pointing and yelling at frankie as her anger and fear and devastation just all boil over. the band is now rocking out and the stage is bathed in angry red light. jo screams “well can you feel it” and her and the ensemble run to stand near the back of the stage in front of the band and just completely lose it. jo is screaming, singing her heart out, throwing her body around in desperation. you can see just how horribly sad and angry she is, how she feels abandoned and alone. you can see it in her face, her body, hear it in her voice. and then the chorus happens AGAIN for that final time and they all run to the very front of the stage, jo just completely losing it. she whips her head up and down, screeching with all her might, reaching out to the audience and just practically pulsing with anger and energy. it’s truly stunning. on the last line (you, you, you) she and the whole ensemble are jumping and the lights are flashing red and white and then everyone cuts out and it’s just her, screaming out into the audience with a voice of just pure raw emotion: “oughta know!!” and they all freeze. the crowd goes. WILD. both times i saw this she got a standing ovation. A MID SHOW STANDING OVATION LIKE WTF. and she absolutely deserved it both times. the amount of emotion she puts out on that stage. and her VOICE HOLY SHIT. honestly, that scene and song is a whole musical in and of itself. her range of emotion through those like 5 minutes, the way she builds in every possible way— stunning. words cannot describe how much i love lauren patten. also it just means so much to me to see women who are allowed to get angry on stage. i love it.

also important to note is that jo doesn’t have her beanie on in this scene? and i have a lot of thoughts on this. in most other scenes, jo is hiding behind a front. she’s sarcastic and tries to avoid showing any form of vulnerability. she wears her beanie like a suit of armor, really. we only see her without her beanie three times: when she’s coming back from the church social with her mom (which she was forced to do and clearly hated. and as soon as her mom is gone she puts the beanie back on immediately, like it’s something to hold on to), you oughta know (which is the only time, at least at this point in the show, where i think we really, truly see jo— when she lets herself go) and then the end (we’ll talk about this later).

after everyone has finished cheering (for a solid like 2 minutes holy shit), frankie runs up to jo looking at her phone in a panic. “jo!” she yells. jo turns around, clearly annoyed, “what? god do you even give a shit?” and frankie goes “no jo it’s my mom” and immediately jo’s there to help because that’s the kind of person she is and they run off stage in a hurry.

cue uninvited. wow. i know i’ve said this about so many things but honestly i don’t think i’ve ever seen such genius staging and choreography in theater ever. it’s absolutely mindblowing. so this is the scene where mj overdoses and the way they depict this is genius. we see a dark stage with a single spotlight on the couch in the center where mj sits and begins to sing. seconds later, heather comes up from behind her and begins to dance around her. this kicks off a stunning choreography that has you on the edge of your seat the whole time. dressed the same as mj, heather shows the agony and pain mj is experiencing, both mentally and physically, through dance. she throws herself around the couch, falling to the floor in agony and pulling herself back up again. mj and heather reach out to each other but never quite reach each other. elizabeth’s stunning voice as mj combined with heather’s astounding choreography as her body double just makes you really, truly feel the absolute pain she’s experiencing in every possible way. incredible. also, at the very beginning of the song, i kid you not when i first looked toward the back of the stage i thought there was a reflection or a pole or something? you can ~just barely~ see something behind mj but i truly thought it was a trick of the light for the longest time. but slowly, ever so slowly, the light grows and you realize it was bella, looking on and watching the whole thing as a ghost in the distance. and her harmonies are stunning. at the end of the song heather and bella leave and mj collapses on the floor, completely passed out. this is when steve enters. he sees her and we see him for a moment start to run towards her and the stage goes pitch black with a loud note from the band. a second later the lights come back on and this time we see steve on the ground w mj and nick on the phone talking frantically. the lights shut off again w another note and when they come back on we see an emt taking mj’s vitals. then they shut off one last time and when they come back on we’re in the hospital w mj and steve.

steve and nick have a conversation with the doctor before going into mj’s room featuring one of the best exchanges i’ve ever seen on stage. the doctor tells steve mj overdosed and she had multiple drugs in her system, different ones than she was originally prescribed, leading him to conclude she got them off the streets. steve is in disbelief. he replies “look at her. does she looks like a drug addict to you?” and the doctor replies “what do you think a drug addict looks like?” no response. incredible.

then mary jane. wow sean allen krill’s voice is just so so good and his performance is stunning. i cried. he climbs in bed with mary jane as he sings to her and it’s adorable. we also have a great exchange between the two of them when she wakes up. one of the lines from the couples therapy scene earlier was steve talking about how mj has to be the best at everything: “we get it mj. you’re winning… at candyland.” now as she wakes up steve is breaking down (also so great to see a grown man get emotional and cry onstage! yes!! fuck toxic masculinity!!) and he apologizes for not noticing something was wrong earlier, talking about how he messed up. mj, still weak and tired responds “im detoxing from opiates… i win.” such a good line. they discuss how they need to start communicating more, mj starting to come clean that she has some things she needs to work through and they discuss how she’ll be going to rehab. nick then walks in (frankie visited earlier during mary jane) and mj immediately goes “nick i was wrong. you need to go to the police.” and steve responds “mj. he already did.” they then discuss how frankie is currently downtown at the rally she organized: the rally for bella.

and now we’re at the rally, the setting for no. this is absolutely incredible. the whole ensemble is on stage, the band behind them, jo and phoenix on either side and frankie in the middle holding a sign that says “stand with survivors,” all surrounding bella who stands in the center with her head held high. after the song starts bella and nick have a brief interaction and honestly i was so so happy with how they did this. nick explains that he came forward and apologizes for not doing so earlier. and bella, rightfully so, STAYS ANGRY. i love to see women on stage being allowed to show emotion. she recognizes he did the right thing but she doesn’t immediately forgive him nor should she. she’s still hurt, and what nick did, or didn’t do, will affect her for the rest of her life: “why didn’t you stop him?” she asks. “i don’t know” he responds, “but everyone knows the truth now.” she then calls him out on his privilege, saying “because you said it. why wasn’t it enough for me to say it? you get to be the hero, like always. because of who you are, because of what you look like. they believe you.” “i’m sorry. if i could change anything about my life bella i would go back—” “yeah. so would i.” she walks away and the song continues. most of the ensemble members have solo lines where they stand center stage, their expressions solemn while the rest of the ensemble surrounds them, touching them, enclosing them. then we get to the second chorus and bella’s big part. she stands center again, belting her heart out as the ensemble, frankie and jo all grab their signs and stand by her side. these signs are stunning. some highlights include: “rape affects all genders,” “believe black women,” “tell your story,” “you’re not alone,” “teach consent,” “a call to men,” “don’t tell me what to wear, tell them not to rape,” and, my personal favorite, “don’t get raped” with the “get” and “d” crossed out so it says “don’t rape.” they slowly move toward the front of the stage as they reach the climax of the song, and stand in solidarity in a line across the very front. at the end of the chorus nick picks up the sign frankie was holding earlier, “stand with survivors” and moves to join them and stand next to bella, literally standing with survivors. chills.

now we get to the closing. as thank u plays in the background we once again see mj sitting on the family couch, writing the annual healy christmas letter. she talks about how inspired she is by frankie’s strength, how her daughter’s doing so much for bella who is a rape survivor “like myself.” she then discusses how bella’s case is going to trial and, even though andrew still got into a good college, bella gets to tell her story, “most of us never do.” frankie then sits down next to her and says “i didn’t know what you were going through mom. i guess i never saw you as a… person?” mj laughs. “you’re my kid that’s normal.” she then starts talking about how all she ever wanted was for frankie to fit in there and when frankie tells her she never wanted that mj goes. “i got it wrong. i’m going to start listening.” she tells us nick is taking a year off to be a witness in bella’s case: “he can’t change the past. but he’s looking inside himself to figure out why he didn’t do anything when he had the chance.” she talks about how her and steve are in therapy both couple and individual. and finally, she talks about her time in rehab and the incredible people she met and all that she learned, but how “recovery will last the rest of [my] life.” she cracks some jokes at the expense of the white, privileged, suburban lifestyle she once loved, commenting “i had spent so much time around all of you i forgot what it was like to talk to people who were kind and genuinely had empathy.” the whole family is sitting next to her on the couch now as she finishes up the christmas letter with “xoxo, mj.” as she finishes she goes “i think this will be my last letter” and when asked why she says, “because christmas letters are for assholes.” steve then asks “are you really going to send that” and mj replies “what have i got to lose?” before steve reminds her “you’re not at rock bottom anymore.” frankie then dares her to send it and nick agrees. she hits send in one impulsive click and yells “merry fucking christmas.” you learn begins to play in the background as steve laughs and asks who that went to and mj responds in this hilarious exaggerated whisper: “everyoneeeeee.”

now we have you learn. so beautiful. one thing that isn’t on the soundtrack is that before jo comes in she and frankie talk for a moment. they say they miss each other but we see that jo’s doing well, she has a new girlfriend and she’s finally starting to gain some confidence. she doesn’t have her beanie on!! jo then asks about phoenix and frankie responds “we’re good. we’re just friends.” and then the music starts back up again. as we get to the chorus the whole ensemble joins them and they’re all just rocking out, laughing, smiling, dancing and generally having the time of their lives. so so wholesome i love it so much. watch the video of their performance on good morning america it’s so so cute. the very end everyone slowly leaves and it’s just mj and frankie center stage, holding hands as the final note dies out. so so good.

the bows. omg. at the end they go back and jam w the band and it’s SO CUTE. also frankie and jo always dance off together as they’re leaving the stage. wholesome content.

let me know if there’s anything else at all you’d like to know!! or if anything wasn’t clear. or if you just wanna talk about it. i have many thoughts, some of which aren’t even in this ridiculously long post.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Misty Forester

Name:

Misty Selene Forester (Rodriguez)

Born:

April 10th, 1873 (Aries)

Age: 24 in RDO events, 25 in the main game, 33 in the epilogue

Birthplace: Manhattan, New York City, New York

Notable Characteristics:

Long brown hair

Bright green eyes

Plump red lips

Black, red, and white color scheme

Fashionable, will always make sure she looks good even if she’s wearing a potato sack

Sassy af

Vocally talented

Other Info:

Half Puerto Rican, 1/4 English and 1/4 French.

Bisexual, known to openly flirt with both men and women

Skills:

Sharpshooter

Persuasive speaker

Skilled actor

Weapons:

Duel wielding custom Mauser pistols

Lancaster Repeater

Carcano Rifle

Hunting Knife

Family:

Arella Forester (Mother)

Luis Rodriguez (Father, unknown whereabouts)

Marie Forester (twin sister, deceased)

Background:

Misty is the child of immigrant parents. Her mother, Arella, is from England and is the daughter of a successful French businessman and an English woman whose own family came from their own wealth. Arella was set to be married to a man who too came from a rich family. Arella was unhappy with this, stole some money from her parents and managed to escape to America for better opportunities. Despite her parents search, she managed to avoid them. She settled down in New York City. There she met Luis, a man who escaped his own home, once living in extreme poverty in Puerto Rico. They bonded and quickly formed a relationship, and Arella soon found herself pregnant.

Before Misty and Marie were born, Luis received word that his mother back in Puerto Rico had fallen ill. He didn’t want to leave his love and their soon to be children, but he had no choice. He managed to get back to PR and would often send letters. Arella kept him up to to date with everything, eagerly waiting his return. However after the twins were born, the letters stopped coming.

A couple of years passed and Arella gave up hope that Luis would return, wondering if he perished or just stopped caring. Either way, she had her daughters to take care of and did her best to raise them. The funds she once nicked from her parents’ fortune allowed her to provide her and her daughters a comfortable living situation.

All the money in the world however did not prevent Marie from getting sick. She became infected with Cholera at the age of five and despite the aggressive medical care, she ended up passing away.

Both Misty and Arella were heartbroken. They stayed in NYC for another six years, and decided to move south, relocating to another city known as Saint Denis. Arella, having grown up around French culture, felt right at home. Misty missed NYC, but soon fell in love with the grandeur of Saint Denis and often wandered around, marveling the well-dressed citizens and enjoying the entertainment. She soon realized she wanted to become a singer, seeking out a vocal trainer whom she learned from for a few years. She also hung around the theaters, speaking with performers and learning tips and techniques on not only singing, but acting as well.

Little did she know that it would come in handy one day. At the age of 16, her grandparents ended up in Saint Denis for a vacation when they ran into Arella by accident. The reunion was explosive, and a lot of shouts and curses were exchanged before everything calmed down. Misty did not know that her mother ran away years ago, and she never heard much about her grandparents except for that they lived in the UK. Despite the tension held, her grandparents absolutely loved her and wanted to keep in touch. Sometime after, she was kidnapped by a gang of outlaws. Somehow word had gotten out she was the granddaughter of a wealthy family, and their intention was to hold her for ransom.

She was with them for three weeks, having to endure their vulgarity. They gave her the bare minimum, feeding her bread rolls and making her sleep on the ground, knowing she would do no good if she got sick or injured. Despite how afraid she was, Misty managed to form a plan, carefully learning their mannerisms and how they interacted with others. She managed to escape without inflicting violence, using her charm and learned acting skills to weasel her way out. Unfortunately for her, she had no idea where she was.

No longer was she in the state of Lemoyne, instead finding out she was in a completely different state called West Elizabeth. With nothing but the clothes on her back and no money in her pockets, she had no idea how to get home, and she was certain those outlaws would catch up to her sooner or later. She managed to keep herself discreet for a couple of days, laying low and charming shopkeepers into giving her a couple of cans of food. All the while, she was desperately trying to find a ride back to Saint Denis that didn’t cost her money, or being subjected to disgusting favors from men twice her age.

One night she’d found shelter in a barn, sleeping peacefully when the sounds of voices aroused her. She realized immediately it was the gang of outlaws that kidnapped her in the first place, and she had no way to defend herself. Despite her trying to keep quiet, they eventually found her hiding spot. With no way out she was ready to accept her fate, until she heard gunshots and the heavy thudding of bodies. More gunfire sounded and she opened her eyes to see them facing outside the barn as a flurry of bullets both entered and exited the barn. She hid behind a crate, listening to the carnage until the gunfire stopped. Seeing the gang were all dead, she warily left her hiding spot and met the man who saved her, a fellow named Hosea Matthews. She recognized him immediately, having seen his wanted poster plastered all over Saint Denis for years. She thought he had the same intention of holding her ransom, but instead surprised her in saying he was here to help, after hearing talk about the rival gang searching for a young girl.

And so for the next few days, Hosea taught Misty how to defend herself. He gave her a revolver, teaching her how to shoot and basic tracking/hunting skills. He even offered to bring her back to his personal gang.

Main Game AU:

Misty considered Hosea’s offer. How she wanted to return home, but had a fear that upon returning, the same events would transpire and may end up with her, her mother, or others she cared about getting injured or killed in the crossfire. The last thing she wanted to do was bring home dangerous, greedy men, and decided to leave with Hosea.

Thus then started her journey as part of “Dutch’s Boys”, a scared young girl soon taught to be a useful gang member. Dutch and Hosea discovered her acting skills and put her to work for heists and robbery.

More to come soon...

RDO Events AU:

Upon declining Hosea’s offer, he gave her money to take a train back to Saint Denis and wished her luck, and let her know that he’d help her again if she ever needed it. She thanked him and got on the next train back home, glad to finally have a way back but she’ll never forget Hosea.

She returned to an emotional reunion, by not only her mother but her grandparents as well, who refused to return home until she was found. They immediately offered to take her and Arella back to England with them, where they guaranteed her safety. Arella declined for the both of them, while it was tempting, she did not want to subject Misty to the life that she hated.

Life returned back to normal for Misty, and putting the experience behind her, she tried pursuing a life in show business as she intended. Despite having a beautiful voice, she just couldn’t break past performing on the streets. She was constantly in other more successful performers’ shadows.

When she moved out on her own, she found it much harder to live on the meager money she was making. She then remembered her experience while being held hostage. The outlaws spoke about their tales and triumphs with stealing riches. She soon began to succumb to her curiosity, finding herself hanging out with the less desirable folk in Saint Denis.

She soon made herself a posse of her own called the Midnight Regulators, making their way across five states like a storm in robberies and ambushes. Misty often takes the role of damsel in distress to lure rich folk into trying to help her, and then robs them blind. She will also help those who are in greater need than her, sometimes becoming a “Robin Hood” and giving part of her loot to poor families.

Unfortunately, one of her gang members became too greedy and tried to overthrow her by attempting to kill her. The fight ended with Misty putting a bullet in their skull. The gang disbanded after that and she was alone, pulled to perform for funds.

Extra:

Legally her name is Misty Rodriguez. However, her mother introduced them using her own maiden name for her daughters to avoid discrimination.

Misty is actually afraid of horses, except her own, after being kicked in the chest as a child. It took her a long time to get comfortable around them.

She secretly hopes to meet her father one day.

She is considered morally gray.

Despite how her life has changed, she still wants to be on stage one day.

She has a soft spot for children and while it doesn’t seem likely, she hopes to settle down and have her own family.

Horses:

Cressida, an amber champagne Missouri Fox Trotter mare:

Misty’s main mount and her absolute favorite horse. Both fast and resilient, Misty was drawn in by this mare’s prowess and beauty.

Cornelia, a marble sabino Criollo mare:

Misty’s first horse. Cornelia can easily match Cressida in speed and stamina, but she’s very clumsy. Misty doesn’t ride her as often in fear of accidentally injuring her.

Orion, a sorrel overo Criollo stallion:

Misty came across this beautiful stallion tied up at a gang hideout, and took him once she’d done away with them.

Andromeda, a bay frame overo Criollo mare:

Misty’s newest horse. A prized mare she found at Braithwaite Manor when she snuck over to originally steal horses. She made out with the ones needed plus Andromeda for her own collection.

Blanche, a white Kladruber mare:

Not the fastest mount, but gorgeous and sturdy. Blanche, meaning “white” in French, was given to Misty by a man in thanks for saving his daughter.

[imagine-avengers]

Biker Part Two- Bucky Barnes Series

2/10 This is part two of my Biker Bucky series. The part one can be found on my masterlist, as will the other parts once they come out!

Elizabeth was woken up around eight the next morning to a knocking on her front door. Groaning she climbed off the living room rug, cracking her shoulders as she went towards the door. Her head pounding and not caring that she was only in an old t-shirt of Bucky’s; which only fell to her mid hips, and a pair of boy short underwear.

“What the fuck?” She whined opening the door whilst rubbing her eyes

“Well good morning.” She heard a voice. Opening her eyes, she came face to face with a dark-skinned man.

“Can I help you?” She asked before noticing the leather jacket he wore. “Ah you’re one of Steve’s.” She mumbled. “Where’s the patriotic idiot; that he has someone banging on my door at eight in the fucking morning without coffee, at?” She asked noticing the amused look on the man’s face.

“Caps already in the truck. Sam Wilson.”

“Rogers!” She yelled heading out of the house, not introducing herself, Sam following behind her.

“Coffee’s on the curb.” Steve didn’t turn to the girl who grumbled grabbing the coffee cup that sat on her curb. “Peg has a pot made if you need more.” Finally turning Steve noticed what she was wearing. “For fuck sake Lizzie.” He shrugged off his leather jacket and wrapped it around the girl, so it fell to her mid-thigh. “Buck would have an aneurism if he saw you walkin’ outside in that.”

“Good thing I don’t worry about Barnes anymore, huh.” She mumbled falling to sit on the curb as she watched a few men carrying things into her house.

“Lizzie?” Sam asked standing by Steve. “Don’t tell me,” Sam glanced at Steve before his eyes fell on the way Elizabeth rubbed her wrist. “Well hot damn, Barnes has damn good taste. Nice to meet you Elizabeth.”

“Likewise, Sam.” She mumbled. “How’d you get roped in with the idiots who run Brooklyn and Queens?” She asked glancing at the gap tooth man.

“Cap and I met running.” He mentioned. “I needed help with somethings and the boys helped me, in return I offered my service and thus I’m here. Came not long after you left sweetheart.” He winked at Elizabeth who scoffed.

“Be careful there Wilson.” Steve called helping a man move the couch. “Bucky hears you talk to her that way and you’re a dead man.” Steve stated as Elizabeth didn’t bat an eye before responding.

“Bucky wouldn’t land a hit if I told him no.” She mentioned causing Steve to laugh.

“You always did have the man wrapped around your finger babe.” Wanda’s voice came from behind Elizabeth causing her to set her coffee cup down.

“Wanda!” Elizabeth spent a good hour catching up with Wanda while ordering for food to be delivered for the six bikers working on moving her things inside and setting up her disassembled furniture.

“You’re too sweet Lizzie.” Steve grinned taking a donut from Elizabeth’s box.

“Stevie, you guys helped me, this would have cost me a fortune to hire someone to do, so thank you.” She grinned as she heard a chuckle.

“Lizzie, Stevie.” Sam’s voice was heard as he grabbed a donut. “Mind if I call you Stevie?” He teased.

“If you value having teeth, I wouldn’t push it Wilson.” Steve stated glancing over.

“What about you Lizzie?” Steve’s eyes turned to the woman standing before him, now dressed fully in a pair of leggings and a black sweater.

“There are a total of six people ever allowed to call me Lizzie.” Elizabeth stated. “Steve, Peggy, their kids, my brother.” She paused.

“That’s five.” Stated Sam.

“And Bucky.” Steve stated for Elizabeth. “Though he never really called her Lizzie, only when she was mad, which was actually often. Or when he needed to calm her craziness.”

“Not surprised with Barnes.” Sam stated causing Elizabeth to scoff.

“You have no idea.” She mumbled.

That night Elizabeth had finished unpacking a few of the boxes before deciding to head down to the bar that Steve and Bucky owned together, Howlies. It was the bar that they owned outside of the Motorcycle Club they were in. Dressing in her typical black leggings, black combat boots, and a black hoodie, she headed to the bar in a cab just in case she decided to drink. When the cab pulled into the parking lot, she noticed all the bikes lining the walls. Starting with the one that had a black spider painted on the side with spray paint, to the one with a shield on it. Then all the way to the one right next to the door that had the same old red star painted on it with a small ES in the corner that Elizabeth had put there when they were eighteen.

“Miss? Are you sure you want the be here? This bar ain’t known for its hospitality.” The cab driver, an elderly man, stated causing Elizabeth to smile.

“Thank you for your concern, but they aren’t going to turn me away, and I won’t have any issues being here.” She stated as the man nodded slightly.

“You’re one of their girls aren’t ya?” Elizabeth chuckled and looked at the old man through the mirror.

“Something like that. Thank you.” Paying the man before climbing out of the cab, she entered the bar with a sigh, all eyes turning towards her, but she took no mind as she greeted Natasha at the bar with a hug. The two chatted for a bit before Natasha handed her a whiskey.

“Heard you’re in need of a job.” She mentioned.

“I am, but definitely not as your bartender Nat, couldn’t pay me enough to deal with these men sober, much less drunk.” Elizabeth teased as her eyes searched the bar, finding Steve standing with Clint and Thor in the private room, sat across from them was Bucky, who’s eyes were trained on her.

“Hasn’t stopped watching you since you walked in.” Natasha stated. “You should to him.”

“No.” Turning away from his gaze, Elizabeth finished off her drink. “The man knows damn well where I live, if he wants to talk, he can find me.”

“Two-way street babe.” Natasha stated carrying three beers over to the men in the corner as Clint went back to the main entrance of the bar to keep watch. Sighing again Elizabeth leaned over the bar and grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured herself a drink.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to do that, sweet thing.” A voice stated falling into the seat next to her.

“I know the owners; I think I’ll be fine.” She mentioned setting the bottle back.

“I know the owners too, and they won’t be happy with it.” The man stated as Elizabeth glanced at him. “Nick Thorne.” He stated. “I just became a member; I think I’d remember seeing a pretty face like yours before.” Elizabeth shifted in her seat as the man flirted with her, rolling her sleeves up so her tattoo was on full display, but Nick didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m claimed man.” Elizabeth flashed the tattoo at him of a red star, a telltale sign that she was Bucky’s.

“I don’t see a man around.” The man stated. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“No.” Elizabeth stated. “I’m good.” She shifted in her seat and began rubbing her wrists. “I don’t need anyone to buy my drinks.”

“Oh, come on,” The man was cut off as Clint showed up next to her just as Nick reached for her arm.

“Sorry Liz, we’ll get him out of your way.” Clint rested a hand on her shoulder as Elizabeth took another drink from her cup.

“Nah man, we’re talking.” Nick stated. “I was gonna buy her a drink.”

“Man, she’s taken.” Clint stated as if was obvious and motioned to her wrist as she gripped on to the glass of whiskey.

“And where’s he at?” Nick stood and got in Clint’s face causing Elizabeth to sigh as she heard the shatter of a glass before hearing the scrape of a chair against the floor.

“Great, thanks.” Elizabeth muttered taking another drink of her whiskey, knowing that James Barnes was on his way towards them, a murderous look upon his face.

“Right here.” She heard Bucky’s voice for the first time in five years. “I’m pretty sure the tattoo shows the claim.” Bucky had moved through the bar towards the group, thus causing the bar to fall silent. “When a woman tells you no, you leave them be Thorne.” Bucky stated as the man paled seeing him. “I should knock your teeth out.”

“James.” Elizabeth spoke. “Leave it.” Bucky chose to ignore her.

“Sir, Mr. Barnes, The Winter Soldier, I’m sorry. I I I I didn’t know.” Nick stuttered as Bucky tsked.

“Get the fuck out of my bar, turn in your jacket, you’re done.” Bucky stated stepping up next to Elizabeth.

“But,” Nick started.

“My girl told you no,”

“Not your girl.” Elizabeth held up a hand before Bucky sent a glare her way.

“No means no, especially from her. So, you have five seconds to hand over your jacket and get the fuck out of my bar or we’re gonna have an issue.” Nick looked around and noticed half the bar standing ready to help their leader before he nodded and handed over his jacket, Clint leading him out. “Don’t really need your smartass comments when I’m saving your ass.” Bucky stated glancing at the girl before moving to head back to Steve.

“I don’t exactly remember asking you to save my ass, Barnes.” She stated glancing at him. “I had it handled.”

“Handled my ass.” Bucky stated. “The guy made you nervous, you fidgeted with your sleeves before finally raising them, and after that you held onto that glass until your knuckles turned white, your nose was crinkled too. I know you, sweets, I know when you need your ass saved.” Bucky stated moving closer to her, so the rest of the patrons didn’t hear their conversation.

“Is that so?” She asked. “Then where were you when I was nervous that I was going to lose you? Where were you when I cried myself to sleep nights on end because I was scared you didn’t care? Oh, that’s right, you were here, in this fucking bar, James.” She stated standing off her seat and setting money on the bar. “If you know me so well, then you would have seen how broken I was five years ago when you said you didn’t love me anymore. You would have noticed that the moment I walked into this bar I was nervous about this confrontation with you. You’d have noticed that this is the last place I want to be.” She was chest to chest with the man who stared down at her.

“That so?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She confirmed.

“If that were true, which it ain’t, that tattoo’d be gone, you wouldn’t have flashed it at Thorne to get him to back off, and this,” Bucky spun Elizabeth around so her back was to him and he pulled the neck of her hoodie down slightly to see the beginning of the cursive writing that said James on top of a splash of watercolor. “wouldn’t be here sweets, so tell me, you really don’t want to be here?” His voice had dropped to a whisper as Elizabeth pulled away from him and turned back to him.

“Do you know how expensive it is to get a tattoo covered up?” She asked. “Much less one as big as that.”

“No more expensive than your trip to The Bahamas last Christmas.” Bucky smirked as Elizabeth gasped.

“You listen here James Buchanan Barnes.” She hissed whilst pointing a finger at the man. “You stay out of my bank statements; fuck keep Stark out of my information too.” She stated. “What I do and what I spend money on is none of your damn concern.”

“Isn’t it though?” Bucky asked as he leaned towards her. “Maybe you’d like to explain why exactly a month after you left there was a charge at Planned Parenthood?” He asked. “You get rid of it yourself because you wanted nothing tying you to me?” Bucky sneered as Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears before she slapped him, causing the bar to stop and look at her with wide eyes.

“Fuck you.” She hissed whilst shaking her head. “You don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about.” She pushed passed him and headed towards the entrance of the bar, glancing at Steve on her way.

“Lizzie,” Elizabeth held her hand up to her best friends’ husband.

“Forget it Steve.” She stated. “So much for being civil.” She shrugged and glanced at Clint. “Mind if I steal Barton for a ride?”

“He’s got his bike; you know the rules.” Steve had a frown on his face having to say that Elizabeth wasn’t allowed to ride on anyone else’s bike but his and Bucky’s. “Sam’s got his car, he’ll take you.” Steve stated nodding towards the gap tooth man.

-

The car ride home had been silent, Elizabeth staring out the front passenger side window the whole time. Her thoughts were running a mile a minute, wondering why the hell she even chose to move back to Brooklyn after it brought her heartbreak after heartbreak. When Sam killed the engine that’s what made Elizabeth snap out of it and realize they had made it back to her home.

“Thanks Sam.” She smiled at the man.

“No problem. I want to give you props.” He stated. “Never have I seen someone put Barnes in his place, well besides Nat, but damn girl, what you did, whole other level.” He stated as Elizabeth smiled.

“Well when you spent eight years with someone you kinda learn not to put up with their shit. I don’t put up with anyone’s in the Commandos.” She told him as she undid her seatbelt, just as she heard the familiar sound of a motorcycle coming down her street. “You might wanna go, that’s Buck, and I guarantee this fight, ain’t gonna be pretty.”

“Wait you can tell who it is by the sound of the bike?” Sam asked as Elizabeth opened her door.

“Bucky’s and Steve’s, yeah.” She nodded. “Been riding since we were sixteen, it’s kinda hard to forget the sound of the bike that drove up to your house every day for eight years.” She said smiling at Sam. “Thanks again Sammy.” She climbed out of the car just as Bucky pulled into her driveway. “See ya, tell Steve I’m fine.” She waved as Sam drove his car away from her.

“We need to talk.” Bucky stated after he killed the engine of his bike.

“I’m too sober for this.” Elizabeth huffed heading up her porch and unlocking the door leaving it open for Bucky to walk in.

“You need a security system.” He mentioned off handedly as Elizabeth made her way into her kitchen where she pulled out two beers, offering one to Bucky after she opened them. “Thanks.” He took the beer and stared at the girl a moment. “I’m an idiot.” Elizabeth said nothing as she maintained eye contact with him whilst chugging her whole beer.

“You fucking think?” Elizabeth asked finally setting her empty beer bottle on the counter.

“Talked to Steve, told me to get my head outta my ass.” Elizabeth nodded slightly before sighing.

“I do kinda owe you an explanation on the whole Planned Parenthood thing.” She stated softly. “But it isn’t what you think James. I didn’t go and get an abortion.”

“You didn’t?” He asked looking up at her as she shook her head.

“I had a miscarriage.” She began rubbing her wrist again as she looked down at the counter in front of her before explaining that she has Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and what that all entails. After a half hour of talking Bucky finally decided he should go.

“I should go, I don’t want to overstep, but we’ll talk later this week.” He mentioned standing from the table in which he and Elizabeth had begun talking at not that long ago.

“Alright Buck.” She nodded slightly as she walked him to the front door. “Hey Buck.” She called after him as he was halfway across her lawn. Turning Bucky towards her, he rose an eyebrow at her. “I hope you know I didn’t just leave because of you.”

“I do Lizzie.” He stated. “I do know.”

“I’ll see you at the bar tomorrow. Think I might take Nat up on the job offer,”

“Nope.” Bucky shook his head. “Don’t worry about it Lizzie, I got a job in mind for you. Give me a few days to work out the details. You need anything, you’ll call me, right?” Bucky asked as Elizabeth smiled.

“Nah, I’ll call Steve.” She teased as Bucky sent her a glare. “Yes, I’ll call you Buck, promise. Drive safe.” She stepped back into her house as Bucky started the bike.

“Someone will be over tomorrow to install a new security system!” He called before driving away. Elizabeth shut the door with a small smile gracing her face.

[constantwritingblock]

Stolen Worlds

Queen of Thieves: Takes place just after the MC breaks up with Nikolai. 

Avengers: Takes place during The Winter Soldier, but with additional characters.

Unknown!Nick Fury x reader, (previous) Nikolai Stirling x reader, platonic!Natasha Romanoff x reader, (eventual) Steve Rogers x reader.

So here is the beginning of a new life... again... Shall we see if Y/N can avoid the drama, or is she just surrounded by it all... too bad a visitor decides to make her life just that little bit easier, or does he?

Prologue

It had been a long night and heist to say the least. Y/N was finding it harder and harder to keep her feelings at bay. While the others were out celebrating, she decided to call it an early night. The thought of losing control of herself in front of others, in this mood, was just too much for her to bare. The penthouse in Hong Kong was absolute peace, she wasn’t expecting things to go south so quickly with her and Nikolai, but what else could she have done? He strived for perfection in everything, what made her be so dull into thinking a relationship would be any different?

Flicking on the lights, she clocked that he hadn’t even entered the penthouse. The crisp coldness of it gave it away. Glancing at the bedroom that once felt like hers, she shrugged off her jacket, opting to sleep on the couch for the night. Flopping herself onto said couch she finally crumbled, quietly sobbing into the palms of her hands. Perhaps she shouldn’t have played his game and kept her emotions in check, but he was too tempting for her.

Reflecting back on the last year with the Poppy was amazing, but the memories of her and her now ex-partner filled in the gaps more so than she expected. Rubbing her face with her hands up to lightly tug at her hair in frustration, Y/N refused to allow anymore tears to come out. It was evident from the others they understood what was up and didn’t question her on it, apart from Leon offering to walk her back, it was kind enough but she just wanted to enjoy some time alone for herself. Leaning back onto the couch, she rested her eyes, succumbing to a moment of sleep.

Though, something felt off. Letting out a sigh she knew who it would be. “You know, you don’t need to hide from me. I know you’re there.” Placing her attention on the shadow in a darkened corner of the lounge, she eyed him up as a tall, dark-skinned man stepped out of his hiding spot. “You still got it, I see kid.” Rolling her eyes at his choice of words, she pushed ahead.

“What do you want?” The older man chuckled at her bluntness. “Straight to the point as always I see. Not even gonna bother asking me how I found you? ‘Cause you’re damn hard to track once you go off the radar.” 

A brief smirk crawled its way onto Y/N’s face. She didn’t need to respond and he seemed to have understood her silence. “I need your help.” Y/N’s instant response? No. But he, of course, knew she would turn him down.

“Y/L/N. Have you seen the news lately?” Shifting back into her previous position of laying back on the couch, she scoffed, “What, that you’re supposed to be dead? Come on Fury, I ain’t that stupid.”

He didn’t take the bait, just continued, “You’re the only one I can trust with this sort of job.” It was evident he was desperate, he wouldn’t have gone to all the hassle in finding her if it wasn’t. But she couldn’t just up and leave the Poppy. Y/N has to think quick on her feet for this, she didn’t want them to know that this was an easy out because of her relationship with Nikolai was now over.

As they remained in silence, while she mulled things over, Fury’s eyes glinted ever so slightly, something that Y/N had caught onto. He knows I’m considering. Sighing, she couldn’t resist rolling her eyes once more.

“Alright, but we’re gonna have to smart about this. I can’t just quit… it’s… let’s just say that shit’s hit the fan with me and another member. So, you can see why I don’t want them into thinking that me leaving is to do with that.” She took his lack of response as a yes, this was now her territory, the older man understood that.

“Come on Remy, you have to be drunk!” Jett’s voice echoed into the room. Her eyes widened in horror. Fury had to leave and fast, but before she could even say anything, the man had disappeared, like a ghost. Finding some form of relief in that, she laid herself onto the couch and silently closed her eyes. Adopting a relaxed breathing pattern to fool them into thinking she was asleep. She’d rather not get hounded by a drunk Remy or Jett, or any of them really.

“Guys, keep your voices down, Y/N’s asleep.” Leon’s notable authority hushed the room. Sensing five other beings in the room, a sixth if you counted Elizabeth, the younger woman kept her cool, not flinching or allowing her eyes to flicker.

Another presence entered the room. As hushed whispers wondered what had happened between the pair earlier. She felt someone’s fingers press against her wrist, checking her pulse. “Heart is beating quite fast, nightmare?”

More shuffling and whispering was all she could catch. Though a strong hold had Y/N nervous. Nikolai was as ever perceptive and getting caught faking slumber was the last thing she needed at this moment in time. Next thing she knew, she was being picked up and taken to a different room. 

------

The plan was to be successful, she had no other option otherwise. So upon discovering that they had a bit more time in Hong Kong before moving on to the next country, Y/N took advantage of that to stage a disappearance. What was more amusing was how Fury agreed to wear something more… colourful, to help her leave. He was going to disrupt the Gilded Poppy’s miniature con.

Walking, hand in hand with Remy, they played a loving European couple on their first ever visit to Hong Kong. It was planned quickly and efficiently, so hopefully things go according to her plan rather than their plan. This was where things went wrong for the Gilded Poppy.

Keeping the physical contact to a minimum as Remy brushed his lips against her ear, whispering that their target was their, Y/N noted in the corner of her eye a woman ahead of them. The pair progressed further with their relationship, but as soon as Remy’s eyes darted towards the target, was when the other woman acted. Running straight for Y/N she pulled her from the conman’s grasp and took her over the bridge they were on, into the water. The other woman guided Y/N to a small sewer-like opening under said bridge where the two caught their breaths.

“How’s that for a kidnapping?” Smirking at the other woman, Y/N couldn’t lie, she missed her voice. “Maria, good to see you.”

------

A/N: Please let me know your thoughts on this, it would be very appreciated! 

ALSO I am open to having a tag list if anyone is interest just let me know and I will create a google document to add yourselves to it.

[hellyeahomeland]

“False Friends” | Directed by Keith Gordon, Cinematography by Peter Levy

In case you hadn’t heard, Carrie smoked a few cigarettes this week. The opening of the episode is actually pretty interesting, the conversation with Yevgeny the previous night in the bar ringing in Carrie’s ears. (Carrie isn’t sleeping--again--and we all know that spells trouble for her.)

Carrie is, for the most part, a loner smoker. And a stress smoker. And a rooftop smoker, apparently! Here more than in previous instances where we’ve seen her smoke, the setting--all alone on the roof--visually represents her own headspace. 

She flashes back to the scene we’ve seen several times already this season. This time, however, we finally see Carrie clearly. She speaks, she’s lucid. There is real fear in her expression, but also longing. The reveal of course is that Carrie is on her meds and in her right mind, and she doesn’t want Yevgeny to leave. 

The camera turns to Yevgeny as Carrie’s dragged away. This is a shot we’ve seen already this season but, by the end of the episode, his expression takes on a different meaning. It’s not cold or detached. He doesn’t want to leave her either. 

The repetition of this specific memory and the way it’s morphed over the episodes is remarkably similar to early season one Brody. We all knew the Carrie/Brody parallels this season would be heavy; the show is not only retelling that story with roles reversed but also using many of the storytelling devices they used in season one. 

Then as now, the audience learns along with the characters what actually took place. First we learn that Brody actually did know Nazir; Nazir held him. Then we learn that Brody watched Tom Walker die. Then we learn that Brody is the one who beat Tom Walker to death (or at least he thought he did). The key difference obviously is that Brody was deceiving Carrie. Carrie is deceiving herself (or is she?).

IJLTP. (Any time this show does something with bokeh IJLTP.) (Bokeh is the way a camera lens renders out-of-focus points of light.)

We thought the framing of this particular shot was interesting. There are two blocks of color behind Carrie, orange and white, and her body lies squarely in the center of either, one half on either side. Maybe this was completely accidental, or maybe it’s symbolic and indicative of the way she’s being pulled in different directions. She also remains in the dark--figuratively and literally. In the first episode of the season, Carrie was often framed inside rectangular boundaries, now she’s half-in, half-out. Before, she felt trapped in the car, in her bedroom, in the fenced-in basketball court. Now, she finally gets some freedom (and maybe a dollop of “fresh” air, natch). 

(There is a similar Mad Men shot that Sara thinks about at least weekly that conveyed something similar about Don.) 

Linus Roache’s performance as David Wellington is fairly underrated. It’ll be interesting to see him in a context other than “Elizabeth Keane’s mouthpiece/bodyguard/sounding board/good cop/bad cop.” For example, this passive aggressive grin at new VP Ben Hayes when he makes a similarly passive aggressive comment about Princeton. 

...or this side eye when Ben Hayes suggests firing Saul, a “Keane holdover.” 

Carrie’s comment in the premiere that Mike was not an “alpha” looms large in this scene and throughout the episode. Carrie makes several comments about him finally doing the job the right way or her way. Their differing personalities and management styles are on full display visually here. Carrie towers over him, while Mike sits back, hands folded in his lap. 

Also, as a logistics person, it bothers Gail that Mike has set up his desk so his back is facing the window. With all of that top secret intel on his computer, isn’t having the windows right there a problem? Is this an intentional nod to his incompetence or did the better lighting of his office for the crew win out? (Sara thinks it can be both.)

The Saul/Haqqani scenes this episode were uniformly visually stunning. First, the show continues its use of light to reinforce who knows what. Here Haqqani’s face is cloaked in darkness while light falls across Saul’s face. 

Overall, Saul’s captivity plays out plot-wise obviously much differently this time than in season four. We’re struck as well by how different the mood is. Both men lean or hunch here. They’re tired, they’re old, they’ve done this before.

The slow pan around Jalal while he’s praying to reveal Tasneem is … *chef’s kiss* (and suggests so much her persona of being the ultimate puppet master, waiting around any corner).

More bokeh, more smoking. Smokehing. 

There’s more mirroring between Carrie and Jenna this week, which is probably how Jenna intends to befriend Carrie (“Carrie smokes? I should too!”), but it actually just feeds into Sara’s theory that Jenna is going to “single white female” Carrie. We love the framing here of Carrie, back to camera (and to Jenna), and Jenna lurking behind her. 

And some visual symmetry here. The camera shots of the two of them are often at a distance, speaking to the depth (or lack thereof) of their relationship. Throughout this episode we see a variety of different pairings between characters. The camera choices in these scenes illustrate closeness and proximity, or distance and mistrust.

In season four there were so many references to Saul losing his eyeglasses during the prisoner exchange. If you recall, he takes them off on the tarmac and Carrie picks them up after she convinces him to get up. Later, she returns his glasses to him just as their car is hit by an RPG. So, given that, two things: 

Saul losing his glasses and then getting them back is almost certainly a harbinger of shit to come! 

We absolutely loved the framing of this scene: Haqqani’s hands slowly coming into frame and gingerly placing the glasses back on Saul’s face. We mentioned above how different the mood was this time around with Saul and Haqqani and this gentle act seemed to encompass all of that.

Two old men, some (we, Jalal) would say past their prime, standing alone in the dark. 

And the dark gives way to a new dawn, a new day. We’re about to break out into song! 

But seriously, this was a gorgeously filmed scene. We do wonder how long they were waiting out in the mountains of Morocco for the sun to rise.

The scene between Haqqani and his son Jalal was the standout of the episode. It is such an eerie reflection of the end of “From A to B and Back Again” when Haqqani kills Aayan. That episode and its ending are at this point Homeland lore, which has the added benefit of making what was already a tense scene fucking unbearable. 

We love the use of perspective and shot/reverse shot here.

The parallels with “From A to B…” continue. Then as now, Saul looks on, helpless, wearing a similar outfit but this time with his hands unbound. Then as now, Haqqani makes a spectacle of it all, when he knows others are watching (the Americans via drone in season four, his entire crew in the courtyard now).

The kiss to the forehead. At this point we were about 650% sure Haqqani was about to shoot his son in the head.

And he does pull out the gun. Jalal literally stares down the barrel. 

Instead of killing him, Haqqani just throws him onto the street, which is maybe just as bad if you’re Jalal. The framing here is remarkable. Jalal stands in the center of the frame, back to the camera, ensconced in sunlight. He’s not awash in some heavenly light. On the contrary, it’s almost as if he’s just been spit out of it, cast out of the kingdom. It all seemed vaguely biblical, like a reverse Prodigal Son, though we’re not sure if that fits exactly. If you know, drop us a line!

We’re three episodes into the season, and we’ve gotten an “over Saul’s shoulder” shot in each one. This is now a theme!

Homeland is not a show that uses flashbacks that heavily (other than the aforementioned Brody/Nazir series from season one and when they de-aged Claire Danes by putting her hair in a half ponytail). They’ve been effective thus far, slowly peeling the layer on the onion that is Carrie’s Russian captivity. 

As Yevgeny recounts Carrie’s suicide attempt, we see split-second flashes in her head. At first, the images are blurry.

And just a few seconds later, they come into focus for us as Carrie remembers. All this is obvious enough, but we also think the way that the focus on the images shifts so suddenly and the way the sequences are edited serve to disorient the viewer in the same way Carrie remains disoriented and confused about just what happened during the seven lost months. 

This scene is notable for a few reasons. First, Carrie and Yevgeny remain so physically close. He leans into her. We also love that it’s more than just Carrie’s reaction to what he’s saying. We see Yevgeny’s reaction to her reaction, as well as his emotions in recounting it. He is remarkably free of judgment and shows legitimate, deep caring, possibly love, as he reveals one of Carrie’s darkest moments. 

And while Carrie makes an offhand remark about her relationship with Brody being accessible information in her “file,” the fact is she never talks about him. Like, ever. (Sara maintains Carrie has a mental and possibly physical “Brody box” that remains sealed.) The significance of Carrie opening up to Yevgeny about what is--sorry, folks--the love of her life really can’t be overstated.

All we have to say about this is “ughhhhhhhhhh.” 

We’re three episodes into the season, and we’ve gotten a “Carrie watches Yevgeny walk away” shot in each one. This is now a theme!

We really hope that the blaring red “ABSOLUTELY NO CELL PHONES” sign is a callback to when Brody infamously and inexplicably snuck his cell phone into the situation room in “Beirut Is Back,” allowing him to send a “DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!” text to Nazir just in the nick of time.

IJLTP.

Here is our Reverse Prodigal Son: lost and wondering, his face bloodied, bordering on delirious. 

And here is Tasneem, her beautiful aubergine scarf blowing perfectly in the wind (sorry, Sara forgot to do Things Tasneem Wore This Week, but she thinks this aubergine scarf is beautiful), looking like a goddamn puppet master goddess, coming to save him. And by “save” we mean “control and manipulate.” Saviors really do come in all different flavors on this show. 

[suicidalalarmclock]

Prompt: Emma is a rebellious princess whose nighttime patrolling adventures bring her face to face with the probable love of her life.

Emma Elizabeth Charming was dramatically beautiful as most princesses are assumed to be, but rarely ever are. She was slightly above average height with a delicate slender build. Her complexion held a milky white irradiance that gave lead into the monotonous sheltered life style of palace living. The more pale the complexion, the more royal the subject. Another way of saying that she was never allowed outside without at least a parasol and elbow length gloves. Her blonde hair was thick and so long that many of the popular braided styles took hours to complete. She’d threatened her mother to cut it off on more than one occasion, though it may have been the only empty threat she’d ever repeated. Emma’s slanted green eyes balanced evenly upon high cheeks bones and her fine lips were colored the most feminine shade of pink.

For all her apparent femininity, and her mother’s insistence on extensive etiquette and decorum training, Princess Swan (a nick name given to her by her father for his daughter's obsession with the animals as a child) cared little about being a princess. In fact, she resented the title completely. The tedious lessons in embroidery. The arduous classes in arranging cut flowers. The boring balls she was forced to attend in order to find a proper suitor before her age became undesirable, made her feel as if she was being held captive in a world founded on traditions of which she was an alien.

She was educated well over all of her female peers and had taken to reading at a very early age. She was most beguiled with mystery novels, ever entertained with ascertaining hidden clues and piecing them together. It was an honest gift that she began training with her readings. She started striving to solve the mystery before the novels end. Emma had gotten so good that she’d soon surpassed the most cunning of authors. With that her rebellious side could no longer be fulfilled living upon the pages of fantasy. She needed some real action.

She’d started solving petty disputes amongst the palace staff. Who took what from whom and who did what with what. Her parents were never ones to stifle gifts, but to include their daughter’s gifts in their day to day lives would mean to put her in more danger than they would ever allow.

Sitting up high on her vantage point atop her four poster bed Emma could see that the chamber maidens had retired for the night. She stealthily slid out of bed pulling her unruly locks into a high ponytail and dressed quickly in an all-black riding ensemble that was borrowed from the stable boy and her good friend Daniel the night prior. She finished the look with a dark hooded cape before sneaking out under the cover of night.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” Daniel chastised after listening to Emma’s latest plan for adventure.

“Geez Daniel. Lighten up.”

“You do remember what happened last time?”

Emma cut her eyes up from the blade of hay she’d been worrying between her fingers.

“Don’t look at me like that! You broke your arm! Who knows what would have happened if the Blue Fairy hadn’t been in residence.”

“I would have healed like a normal person.”

“You think this will play out like one of your books Swan? These are real people with real secrets and real weapons. What happens if you get caught? You’re the princess!”

“I am more than proficient with a bow and arrow thanks to my mother and I can wield a sword as gracefully as a knight thanks to good old dad. No one will guess that I am the princess.” Emma made a stern face as to stress her point. She was a woman desperate to be useful and this mission required her specific skill set.

“But Emma! It’s not as if you can do magic!”

Daniel’s instance irritated her. Of course she couldn’t do magic. Her parents would never allow it. The Enchanted forest was more of a misnomer at this day an age.

“Look will you stop? I don’t care about that.What I do care about are the children that keep disappearing from Ginger village!”

“Why not tell your father and have the knights investigate?”

If Daniel only knew that she’d in fact overheard the information from a Knight as she eavesdropped on a round table briefing. Her father’s plan had them doing everything honorably or, more accurately, his plan had them doing everything obviously.

“Because they’ll do everything by the “code of ethics” and give themselves up before they even start!”

“Fine, since you insist.” He begrudgingly acquiesced, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Daniel had prepared her most trusted steed for the excursion. A jet black stallion she affectionately called, Twilight.

“Good evening Twilight.” Emma greeted the horse in a hushed voice and Twilight huffed back mutely. He was just as excited as Emma and smart enough to know that they were on a clandestine mission so he was trying his best to be quite.

The ride was made clear by the fullness of the moon. The journey wouldn’t have been possible without its light. As she finally made it past the palace walls to the outskirts of the Enchanted forest she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. A figure hid behind the first row of trees, the moon casting the person’s lanky shadow across the ground. Emma’s heart skipped a beat and her hand reached back over her shoulder for her bow.

“Pst. Put that down! Come on, before the guards see you.” Emma relaxed instantly. It was only Daniel. “Don’t tell me you thought I was going to let you go off alone?”

Emma smiled from ear to ear very pleased by this. She would never admit to anything as pedestrian as nerves, but it was obvious that she had been having second thoughts. Daniel ascended Twilight with the trained ease of an equestrian while still allowing Emma to hold the reigns.

“So Swan, how would you feel about tackling two good deeds in one night?”

Emma was more than keen to add onto their roster. This was the first time she’d ridden cross saddle in months and the first time she’d been in the Enchanted forest without an entourage in over a year.

“Duh, what did you have in mind?

“I’ve been seeing someone.”

“Hun?”

“I’ve been seeing someone.” He repeated with a bit more volume.

“Do you hear this Twilight? He’s finally admitting to it!” Twilight made a neighing sound that was eerily close to a chuckle.

“You knew?” Daniel seemed genuinely shocked.

“You’re my best friend Daniel. Of course I knew something was going on. You never miss our rides and this month alone you missed three.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. She is very private . . . a royal.”

“Royal?” Emma wasn’t sure if she should be offended. “That’s why you waited so long to tell me? Do I know her? Not Anastasia? Oh! Don’t tell me it’s Elsa . . . I know she is very pretty and all, but I promise she’s nuts.”

“Swan stop. You do not know her . . . not really. And I know all about you and Elsa. From where I stand you deserved it.”

Emma’s cheeks became hot and she elbowed Daniel in the ribs indignantly.

“Don’t try to change the subject! Who is she?”

“The daughter of the Former King Henry . . .”

Emma’s eyes went wide and she was happy to not have been facing her friend as she had a moment to compose herself.

“You don’t mean former King Henry’s daughter.”

“Yes , I���ve been seeing the Princess Regina.”

XXX

Princess Regina pulled her traveling cloak tightly around her waist to stave off the cold night air. She was agitated. Looking at the position of the moon she counted just after 1 in the morning and there was still no sign of Daniel.

In the realm of the Enchanted Kingdom the truth of Princess Regina is little known, though the gossip surrounding her title is known all too well. The story of a jealous princess from a foreign land across the great sea, who plotted to overthrow the throne from her mother and failed miserably. The cause of her rebellion was a hot topic for speculation, but it was generally agreed upon that Regina used magic and that was enough to make her undesirable. Many had no clue as to why King Charming and Queen Snow allowed the woman and her father asylum amongst the Enchanted Kingdom. If only they knew the real story.

An oppressed and emotionally abused princess found the strength to right the wrongs of her mother’s evil practices. Regina had been prepared to die for her cause, using a spell that had very high risks. Her mother had anticipated her final moves and instead of killing her she decided to banish her instead. Finding it far more of a punishment to make a mockery of the former King and his treacherous daughter.

Now her father now forbade all magic. So where better a place to make a new life than the Enchanted forest.

Magic was one of the only things Regina and her mother had in common and even with that they both practiced so differently. Regina had been born into magic. It was essential to her being. If they didn’t want her to practice in this land than so be it. But to have had her magic physically ripped from her body was cruel. She felt weak and empty on the inside and was desperate to have them back.

The sound of hooves trotting caught her attention and she fell back into the cover of the brush not sure who was approaching.

"Regina?"

She released a breath. It was Daniel. She quickly uncovered her hiding spot only to come face to face with the most striking pair of green eyes she'd ever seen. It threw her off completely while Daniel slid down off of the back of the same horse obscuring her view.

He then bent to kiss her lips, but she pushed him away toward her cheek.

“You’re late.” She admonished. “I’ve been waiting for over an hour.”

“I am sorry.” Regina watched his blue eyes contort under the stress of having annoyed her. “It was this one’s fault.” He pointed back up to the woman with the striking eyes giving Regina a chance at a second look.

"Regina, this is Emma."

Emma? She took a moment to apply the name to the figure before her as Daniel stepped aside so the two women could properly meet.

The rumors of the princess’ beauty were not exaggerated, but she was wary to admit that. Regina pushed her shoulders back in a show of confidence though she really had none.

"Miss. Swan." She acknowledged with a slight bow of the head.

Emma took her time to look Regina over carefully. Her doll like features were quite impassive and after a painfully long silence she responded.

“You would do well to call me Princess.”

Regina’s cheeks colored. She’d put the Miss to be polite, but of course a princess would be offended by another princess not acknowledging the title.

“I didn't mean to offend you.” She tried her best to sound sincere for she truly was. Regina rarely apologized, but felt her faux pas called for further explanation. “Daniel simply calls you Swan and I did not want to seem familiar, Princess.” This time she added a curtsy.

Daniel was back at her side in an instant.

“Swan hates being called Princess.” Regina watched the other woman’s face, she visibly bristled at Daniel coming to her defense. “What’s gotten into you Swan?”

“Well it’s clear she’s gotten into you.” Emma retorted haughtily. Her face still stone cold while Regina’s face fell in shock. Namely because she and Daniel’s relationship had yet to progress that far, also it was completely none of her business. And here she was trying to be civil.

“Princess, there’s no reason to feel . . .” she searched for the right word. Jealous would be too presumptuous and she’d rather not be gauche. “intimidated by my relationship with Daniel. I know you two are close.”

It gave her great pleasure as she now watched Emma’s mouth drop wide open.

“Intimidated? You and Daniel? No!” Emma quickly defended before jumping down off of the horse to bow her head down in a formal gesture. “I’m being an asshole & I don’t know why . . . I never get to meet new people and another princess nonetheless. You’re beautiful *cough* I-I think I’m in shock. Please call me Emma.”

The sudden change in tone had Regina on alert as it was currently she trusted no one. Though Daniel was very kind to her. He said he loved her, but love was too much to ask of her at the moment. It shouldn’t matter that this woman found her beautiful, but for some reason it did. Steeling herself against the sudden wave of emotion she fixed her face in a look of practiced modesty.

She appraised Emma again. Taking a bit more time to carefully map out her features. Her hair fell out of the side of her hood in a tangle of dense glimmering ringlets slipping free from her bun. She bowed before her at the waist as if she were a gentleman. Regina’s eyes then fell to the ill fitting low male cut of her pants and the ornately expensive sword hooked expertly upon her belt. This princess Emma was a tomboy.

“Princess Emma Swan,” Regina tried again. “Are you always this rude?”

The question caught Emma off guard and she fumbled a little before her smile brightened immensely.

“Me rude?” She exaggerated “Hardly ever.”

Regina managed to smile at that. Her brown eyes softening around the edges. She felt Daniel grip her waist tighter in an encouraging manor. Happy his two favorite people were playing nice. He knew first hand that royalty had a hard time socializing, but never thought that Emma could be classified as real royal.

“Well that could’ve gone better.” Daniel began awkwardly as he let go of Regina and stepped in front of the two women. “But now that everyone knows each other let’s move along. We have very little time before daylight.”

This seemed to put Emma back on track.

“Great. Are you ready to finally tell me why you dragged my ass two hours opposite the direction of Ginger Village? Besides meeting your new girlfriend?”

Regina could barely roll her eyes before Daniel spoke again.

“ Regina knows how to use magic.”

Emma paused in her tracks before turning around again to face the fallen princess. Her lips curled to one side as she spoke.

“That explains your lack of weaponry. I was afraid you’d left Daniel’s sorry ass to defend you.”

“Cool it Swan. I’m trying to impress this one. She’s kidding by the way.”

“Sure I am.” Regina watched as Emma shot Daniel a teasing glance before gracefully mounting her steed. “And little good that will do you here. If you haven’t heard the Enchanted forest isn’t so enchanted.”

“Well, that is where you come in Swan.”

“Not sure I’m following.” Emma uttered a tad distracted. She seemed to be counting something which in turn made Regina realize the same thing.

“Dear, why didn’t you tell me to bring a horse?”

“I was supposed to have Radiance, but the King requested him last minute.”

“Dad asked for Radiance?” Emma looked properly vexed by this for a moment before seeming to drop it completely. Her eyes cut to Regina’s again for the third time that night and still all Regina could think about was how it made her feel something. Good or bad she still wasn’t sure. Her gaze was so heavy it almost felt intrusive.

“I vote Daniel walks, and you princess Regina, would you like to ride with me?”

XXX

[janeaustentextposts]

Would you happen to know if during Regency, did married couples always refer to each by their surnames like Mr./Mrs. Smith? Like in the films, married couples do so, but why not by their first names? (sorry if the question is a bit confusing, I wasn't sure who to best word it, and thank you too!)

It depends on the couple, honestly. The use of given names can denote a more affectionate/informal couple, in my mind, but this is largely an idea which I think has come from reading more modern novels set in the Regency, rather than in novels of the period; but in ‘public’ there may certainly be more of a push to refer to the man, at least, by his surname, with or without the honourific of Mister, as a token of respect, which continually seems to bleed into affection in a way that is more formalized in early 19th century manners than it is, today.

This absolutely has nuance and doesn’t necessarily go both ways, as we see in the best married couple Austen ever wrote--the Crofts. Mrs. Croft is always referring to her husband as ‘my dear Admiral!’ even in moments of stress, and he lovingly calls her ‘Sophy’ in return. There can be no doubt of their bond and respect, but he is permitted a fond liberty with her given name (and a nick-named shortening of it!) than she will allow herself with whatever his given name is.

(Anne absolutely follows Mrs. Croft’s example and refers to her dear ‘Captain’ with great fondness and pride in public, but I will bet cash money that he begs her to call him ‘Frederick’ when they are alone in their house by the sea and her whisper can scarcely be heard above the distant sweep of the waves.)

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...sorry, where was I? Double standards of respect via public formality especially towards gentlemen, right!

We see, again, something along these lines where Emma is furious at Mrs. Elton’s vulgarity in immediately claiming a friendly sort of intimacy by referring to Mr. Knightley as merely Knightley, which...is not incorrect, but is very much behaving with an exuberance of intimacy which cannot possibly have been established by so short an acquaintance, and by a recognition of the fundamental clashes of their personalities, even. Not only are they not really friends, but they’re unlikely to become very good friends, ever, simply by their different ways of thinking and behaving. Emma, for all her long acquaintance and love for ‘my Mr. Knightley’, cannot get impish enough to drop the Mister, though she clearly doesn’t water herself down in her chats with him.

It can really shift depending on how people want to use given names versus surnames, surnames-with-honourifics, and even titles, if we’re really going for broke and shoving some peers in for flavour. Any and all of these aren’t necessarily a sign that any one couple has a better or closer or more respectful marriage than anyone else; and if there are signs that there’s more playful affection and intimacy, it seems more likely that the man will refer to his wife by her given name or a nick-name, rather than ‘Mrs. So and So’, while she continues to refer to him as Mister So and So, even to his face.

What they call each other when they’re alone? Hard to say--Austen doesn’t write us scenes of married couples having a tête-à-tête.

That said, I always have to laugh a bit when I see P&P follow-ons where a married Jane refers to Bingley as Charles, but Elizabeth generally sticks to calling Darcy, Darcy. The Bingleys are so often seen as a ‘softer’ or beta couple, so I don’t know if that plays into it, or if it’s just a double-standard affectation because we can admit that ‘Bingley’ as a name has a whiff of the [clown horn sound effect] about it, and ‘Fitzwilliam’ as a given name is ATROCIOUS--no wonder that guy has a hard time seeking introductions at parties. Charles and Darcy seem to just sound better to our picky toddler ears, judging by this pattern; so never mind that keeping things consistent would mean we’d have to suffer the discordant nonsense of saddling one or the other of these good boys with a wonky appellation that just does not lend itself well to the fluffy domestic billing and cooing where we expect to have it fondly uttered.