#character: kahina bensaïd

[theartistknownaslymond]

Also this could be a request but do you have any thoughts about maybe like… we’ve talked a lot about Jerott’s nostalgia music with his dad, does he have anything with his mom? Generally Jerott + French (language/artist/etc) music would be fun :)

Yesssssssssssssssss

"You and I are not even Knights of the Order - we are renegade French, liable to lead the Sultan personally into the Grand Master's room." [Disorderly Knights]

nous sommes des renégats

1) Georges Brassens - Les philistins 2) Warda - El Baghbaghan 3) Jean Ferrat - Camarade 4) Jacques Dutronc - Le responsable 5) Dahmane El Harrachi - Ya Rayah 6) Johnny Hallyday - Dans un jardin d'amour 7) El Hachemi Guerouabi - El bareh 8) Leonard Cohen - The Partisan 9) Umm Kulthum - Al Atlaal 10) Nick Drake - Three Hours 11) Fadhéla Dziria - Mal h'bibi malou 12) Django Reinhardt & Quintette du Hot Club - Nature Boy 13) Renaud - Marche à l'ombre 14) TRUST - Antisocial 15) Cheikha Rimitti - Charak gataa 16) Sapho - Marrakech 17) Renaud - Si t'es mon pote 18) Bérurier Noir - Porcherie 19) Rachid Taha - Voilà voilà 20) Cheikha Rimitti - NOUAR

Usual deal: background information below the cut. Faceclaims: Viveik Kalra for Jerott, and Aure Atika for his mum, Kahina.

Bonus feelings about canon: Jerott Blyth is French, he’s born in Nantes, though his father’s Scottish, which is why they’re both at Solway. The quote I took the playlist title from induced unexpected Feels about his specific ‘pledged to a dead girl as opposed to pledged to the Order’ situation, where it’s implied that even inside this community he’s made himself part of, he’s always treated with suspicion by some for where he was born.

Georges Brassens - Les philistins I honestly had no idea how foul-mouthed Georges Brassens was! He was anti-establishment, anti-organised religion, generally anarchic and critical of French society. What a legend. Anyway, this is quite innocent by his standards and Kahina, having discovered him on her arrival in Paris, is smitten and probably sings it as a lullaby to baby Jerott. Get him listening to those guitar heroes early! <Philistines, grocers, while you were caressing your wives,

dreaming of litte ones that your uncouth appetites engender,

you thought "They'll be clean shaven, round bellied lawyers."

But to punish you as you deserve one day you'll seeing coming into the world

some unwanted children who will become long-haired poets.> Warda - El Baghbaghan Warda Al-Jazairia was one of Algeria's biggest stars. She started off singing at her father's cabaret - which was busted in the early days of the war for concealing weapons for the FLN. After living in Lebanon for a while with her mother's family, she returned to marry in Algeria in the 1960s and her husband forbade her from making music. Ten years later, following a request by the president of Algeria that she perform again, she and her husband divorced (she actually remarried and divorced a second time, too). Are you sensing Kahina might see her as an important role model? :') Unfortunately I had to rely on Google translate for the gist of this one, but I can again see Kahina liking to sing this one to Jerott, particularly once he starts showing an aptitude for music: <He memorizes what you say and studies it all night long You get to see him and he says it again by himself too Like a smart student who doesn't study for the exam He gets upset when I say a word that angers him in particular And he rejoices when you fix it with plant sugar He gets upset when I say a word that angers him in particular And he rejoices when you fix it with plant sugar He sings all the songs and imitates the melodies He sings all the songs and imitates the melodies I hide it and it is sweet and I will save any song Nor has he ever been rebellious, nor has he been confused in the tones Like a smart student who doesn't study for the exam> Jean Ferrat - Camarade Ferrat was a vocal Communist, but the Warsaw Pact invasion in 1969 led him to write this out of disillusionment and frustration. Kahina knows the feeling all too well. <It's a terrible name Comrade It's a terrible name to say At a time such as a masquerade It can only shudder What have you come to do Comrade What have you come to do here It was at five o'clock in Prague That the month of August was obscured Comrade Comrade

It's a cute name Comrade It's a cute name you know My heart beats like a drum roll To make it live forever The cherry and the grenade are united With a hundred May flowers> Jacques Dutronc - Le responsable Inescapable French rock #1! And it is absolutely a bop. Probably gives off vibes of how Kahina views Jawad, the responsible provider who wants to fix everything for her and Jerott: <The more worries I have, the happier I am I whip them up like cream What I like most is being sick with worry I feed on the worries every which way

But I also like catastrophes Which put my life in relief When things are going well, I am unhappy When things are going poorly, I am very happy> Dahmane El Harrachi - Ya Rayah Like some of the other Algerian singers on this playlist, he's not from a similar background to Kahina, but he ended up living in France and playing French cafés, giving Kahina a chance to introduce Jerott to châabi music, in particularly his own compositions which, like this one, tended to focus on immigrant life and a longing for the homeland. This is one of his biggest hits. If Jerott ever stops to work on his Arabic properly, these lyrics are going to be a gut punch for him: <Oh Traveler, where are you going? You'll leave, get tired and eventually come back Haven't you realised how many unwise people regretted this decision before you and I did?

How many overpopulated countries and deserted areas have you seen? How much time have you wasted and how much more are you planning on wasting? Oh stranger, you never cease to run in foreign lands Destiny and time will follow their course, yet you turn a blind eye> Johnny Hallyday - Dans un jardin d'amour Inescapable French rock #2! Come on. There has to be a bit of Johnny Hallyday in baby Jerott's life. Kahina probably has a video recording of him dancing to this from just before the divorce is finalised and kind of loves tormenting him with it later. By then he can play along with the guitar, too. El Hachemi Guerouabi - El bareh Another châabi player - maybe Kahina wanted Jerott to take up the mandole, but guitar was a good enough compromise. Notable because, out of fear of foreign influence on Algerian music, he ended up revolutionising the genre himself to keep up with the times. Another song where I had to rely on Google translate, but it seems to be about a kind of melancholic yearning for youth and possibility. Leonard Cohen - The Partisan Not as specific about who the enemy is as the original French language version, and probably all the more appealing to Kahina and Jerott for that. Umm Kulthum - Al Atlaal This is a tiny, tiny instrumental sample of the song, which is often over an hour long when performed live [Sapho, see below, recorded a version in the 2000s]. Umm Kulthum was probably inescapable for Kahina, even though she's Egyptian not Algerian, as she was the biggest Arabic-language musician around. As with many of her songs, Al Atlaal is based on poetry, in this case the poetry of Ibrahim Nagi, a writer and medical doctor. Even aside from Ibrahim's successful combination of art and career (looking at you, Jawad!) Kahina would identify with the lyrics: <Give me my freedom, let go of my hands, I gave (everything) and left nothing (to be given) Ah, your chain is bleeding my wrist, why do I keep it when it's kept nothing of me What's my keeping of promises you didn't protect, and what's the imprisonment when I have all of life> Nick Drake - Three Hours An incredible guitarist, and the drums in this track are a little reminiscent of raï drumming I think. Nick Drake barely sold in the UK, so I doubt Jerott got hold of his albums in Paris, but Kahina's music primes him to really love this when he discovers it - probably only after reading Drake's obituaries in the music press in 1975 (CW suicide references, depression, schizophrenia, drug use), when he's living in Glasgow. Drake studied in France before university and worked with Françoise Hardy, another connection that would intrigue Jerott - though not entirely for good reasons, to be honest. Inside teenage Jerott are two wolves, one of which objectively finds Hardy hot, the other of which sees her talking about 'anti-French racism' and is thoroughly grossed out. There's a reason she was never on Kahina's record player! Anyway it's a Nick Drake song Jerott drunkenly seduces Peder the OC with in Más é an ceol bia an ghrá. And of all the records he buys in Glasgow, this is one he can take to Paris and play Kahina and know she’ll like too. Fadhéla Dziria - Mal h'bibi malou Another important female singer in Algerian musical history, this time representing the Andalusian style/hawzi music. She and her sister were involved in fund-raising for the FLN (and apprently she was 'married for a short time at age 13'(!) so another example of a separated, successful woman for Kahina?). This is a big old heart-broken folk song, and it's not like Kahina stops loving Jawad when she sends him away: <Oh beloved, have some mercy You abandoned me with no reason You forgot all our sweet memories And you hurt me You wasted my time You lost me And ran after another I don't regret loving Allah knows what I feel inside He's the only one who could help me forget you And heal my wounds> Django Reinhardt & Quintette du Hot Club - Nature Boy The song is originally about the 'Wandervogel' proto-hippy movement, and was picked up and made big by Nat King Cole and covered by loads of people. It anticipates Jerott’s sannyasin calling somewhat. This is an instrumental interpretation by one of the best guitarists of the twentieth century, a Franco-Romani musician who made guitar the centre of a jazz band for the first time. BIG influence for both Jerott and Francis. This is probably one of the last albums Jerott gets for himself before moving to Glasgow. Renaud - Marche à l'ombre Outspoken leftwing rocker - he features on the Francis/Philippa pining playlist, but this is from an earlier album. It lists the kind of people a conservative barfly would hate, and touches on nearly every aspect of Jerott's personality/his family, so he's probably a fan of ironically singing along to it and showing off with the twiddly guitar part: <When this dirty hippie Got out of his Volkswagen Kombi That he parked like a rag In front of my pub I told to Bob who was playing pinball << Look at this scatterbrained that is coming You see his look ? What a pity ... >> Patchouli, Pataugas shoes A guide book in the pocket Are Krishna down to the grave Henna in the hairs Pierced ears I am sure, I can make a bet That he will beg for a hundred bucks To go to Kathmandu Or elsewhere in Nepal Before he could say a single word I took the guy by the overcoat

And I told him You, you're getting me on my nerves And you shouldn't be in my world Get outta here, you're not from my gang Get out, you stink And walk in the shade> TRUST - Antisocial Jerott's angry and lost when he moves back in with Kahina in 1980. He's probably quite happy to listen to unsophisticated angry rock music, and this song is a bit of an inheritor to Le responsable - it's about people just getting on with things for themselves and trampling others as they do, viewing people like that as cut-off from others (in an unhealthy way, not an enlightened way), wasting their lives and encouraging the contempt of others. So not really how Jerott wants to think of himself 'giving up' and getting a professional career, but. The thought is there, and he doesn't really like himself for it. (Lucky that nice Swami Geetesh is there to give him another option) Cheikha Rimitti - Charak gataa Apparently this is a song encouraging girls to get out there and lose their virginity, take ownership of their sexuality, and, to be reductive, it's basically the Algerian equivalent of rock and roll from the 1950s. It's radical and it's badass. Cheikha Rimitti was on the streets as a teenager and joined a group of travelling musicians, singing 'songs of the street' about sex, alcohol, dancing and getting on with living life. She obviously didn't go down well with Islamist revolutionaries, nor with moralising colonial powers - she was banned from performing in Algeria in the '60s and lived in France for a while, performing to ex-pats. She's from an exceedingly different background to Kahina, who, worldly as she tries to appear, is probably knocked for six by some of the lyrics when she first hears them. But the sense of being rejected by both sides in the War of Independence and Rimitti's sheer grit and passion for her art is going to make her a huge favourite of Kahina's. And Jerott appreciates rock and roll, wherever it's coming from. Sapho - Marrakech Moroccan-French singer who embraced her Arabic language heritage in the '80s on this album (Passions, passons - it's so good, really, go and listen to the whole thing!). She's very inspired by Umm Kulthum, but this track is such a great blend of New Romantic '80s pop and Arabic styles, I don't think Jerott and Kahina would be able to resist it. Renaud - Si t'es mon pote Another Renaud track, this one is here because the lyrics are just *the most* Jerott in Checkmate it is possible for a song to be. Here's a sample (all translations from lyricstranslate): <Well okay, it's late and you're a bit tired of drinking You do drink like a Polish man But you just can't get drunk You are not lucky But don't leave me there I'm blasted like a rat, turned on Okay, I don't care, get the hell outta here I'll pay for the round of drinks You fucker

But if you're my pal, you don't lemme drink alone And you don't complain if you see me crazy I pay you a drink at Ali's Café, the last one I swear If you are my pal, you're following me

Well okay, indeed she's fuckable but I don't know What she can give to you that I can't It's been weeks since you left me for this ass I just can't believe you Be careful, don't let our friendship buried by that slut Who is jealousy from the head to the feet That doesn't know me at all and hate me

But if you're my pal, admit that it's a bit shameful She's not really a nun, she's not Christine Okrent And she got a mental level rather close to the ground If you are my pal, throw her out> Bérurier Noir - Porcherie France's very own anti-fascist anthem from the late '80s! Rachid Taha - Voilà voilà It sounds very '90s because it is, but I needed to put Rachid on here. Rachid lived in Lyon and ran a club in the late 1970s where as a DJ he played a totally wild mix of Algerian and Western music. He's often called a rai artist, but his stuff went way beyond that really. Teen Jerott on a summer holiday before his final year at school would LOVE it. Allegedly Rachid's band's early music might have inspired The Clash's Rock the Casbah (which I should probably have put on this playlist too, but forgot about until I was practically done), so jot that one down. Here's a little excerpt from Rachid's Wiki page that should show why he's important to/an influence on Jerott, even though tbh their careers are happening in parallel: 'These were difficult years since record stores often refused to stock their records "because they didn't want Arabs coming into their shops". There was little money; the band performed in suburbs of Lyon. Taha took a standard patriotic French song entitled "Sweet France" (in French: Douce France) which had originally been recorded by Charles Trenet in the 1940s, kept the lyrics, but sang it with "furious irony" which irritated many French listeners, particularly coming from a "scruffy, bohemian-looking Arabic singer", to the point where Taha's version was banned from French radio.' <The lesson was not learned Remember they chose to forget Everywhere I hear what they say Foreigners you are the cause of our problems Me I thought it was all over But in fact, it was only a pause Voilà, voilà, it starts again Everywhere and in la douce France Voilà, voilà, it starts again> Cheikha Rimitti - NOUAR More Cheikha Rimitti because she was amazing, and this shows the kind of collaborations she ended up doing more recently. Plus, yes, the lyrics seem to be addressed to one 'Danny'. يا داني و داني دان داني دايني يالالة – Hey, Danny, Danny, Dan, Danny, Denny, what a machine. أﻧﺎ وﻏﺰاﻟﻲ ﻓﻲ اﻟﺠﺒﻞ نلقط ﻓﻲ اﻟﻨﻮار – Me and my deer in the mountain, catching in the light. أﻧﺎ وﻏﺰاﻟﻲ ﻫﺎ لالة – Me and my deer are a machine.

[theartistknownaslymond]

Cheek kisses for D/J

The small kitchen table was piled so high with food Danny could barely see Jerott sitting behind it all.

"Are you in hiding, doudou?"

Jerott's dark eyes, wide with trepidation, peered at them over the stacks of bagels and samosas. "Are you in disguise?"

Danny put mock-offended hands on their hips. Hips that were enclosed in a slinky black cotton dress, showing the soft curve of belly and braless, fleabite breasts. The dress was long enough to cover Danny's knees and accessorised with new, floral Docs, tasteful silver jewellery, and maroon dark lipstick. Even the eyeshadow was restrained - by Danny's standards - a pale smoky haze that didn't take away from the pout. A sensible grey mohair cardigan was draped over one arm, but Danny couldn't quite bring themselves to put that on yet.

"Excuse me? I look perfect."

Danny dropped the cardigan with a flourish over the chairback in front of them.

Jerott tried, but he couldn't stop his eyes from dropping to check every line of the dress. He didn't disagree, Danny saw.

Danny loved to see this expression on his face - a bit flushed, a bit lost, a bit smitten. It made Danny's heart race every time.

"You don't need to pretend for her..." Jerott said eventually, chewing his lower lip as he checked Danny's expression, worry still a shadow in his eyes.

Danny smirked and dropped a hand to the back of the chair opposite Jerott's. The fine chains on their arm tumbled elegantly over their shapely wrist. "Pretend what?"

Jerott's eyes narrowed. He was too well practiced in such leading questions now, and sat back, turning his attention to the immaculate, symmetrical tower of cream cheese bagels.

"That you're not a filthy jazz animal with an addiction to pickled herring and cotignac?" Jerott surveyed the spread of food they'd spent all weekend preparing, and all of a sudden Danny could read his wicked intentions plainly.

"Jazz animal!" Danny exclaimed, delighted and committed to not showing it. "Wait - filthy?"

A slinky dress called for a slinky step, and Danny rounded the table, eyes watching Jerott like he was an untrustworthy pet at a buffet table. "Doudou, don't you dare..."

"Hmm?" Jerott raised a hand to flutter his fingers threateningly over the snacks.

"Jerott, I spent an age getting that tower of bagels even, you can't take one now!" A note of alarm entered Danny's voice.

"My mum won't even notice, Danny, don't worry..."

This was his way of distracting himself from his own unease at the first meeting, Danny knew. But stacking the bagels had been Danny's way of dealing with it, and now Jerott was interfering with the carefully curated image Danny wished to present to la formidable Madame Bensaïd.

Jerott grabbed a bagel and Danny lunged to stop him. But half the damned bagel was in his mouth even with Danny's hand on his wrist and Danny yelping out, "I'm the animal?!"

Jerott laughed, tried not to choke, and chewed on the too-large bite with difficulty, leaning away from Danny as Danny loomed over his chair.

That remorseless smirk, the dimple that was at war with the bulging cheek full of bagel turned out to be too tempting a target.

Danny grabbed his jaw and planted the biggest, poutiest kiss that could be achieved on Jerott's face.

Jerott protested around the bagel, feeling the waxy residue that remained on his skin. A near perfect red smear formed an 'o' on his cheek.

Danny folded their arms to look down at their handiwork. "You deserve it."

But Jerott was standing, a new mischief in his eyes that Danny understood too late.

"Oh, no!"

Jerott shoved the other half of the bagel into his mouth as messily as he could. There was cream cheese everywhere and Danny hesitated, transfixed with horror for a second too long.

Jerott grabbed Danny around the waist and smacked his own cheesy kiss on Danny's cheek as Danny gave a shriek of thrilled disgust.

"Quequette! Crotte de bordel!" Danny squirmed in Jerott's hold, dissolving into appalled peals of laughter and pretending to fight as Jerott left more bagely kisses on Danny's cheek and Danny no longer knew whether Jerott was depositing cheese with each touch of his lips or kissing it off Danny's skin.

They only stopped scrambling with one another when a polite cough interrupted them, and Danny opened their eyes to see la formidable herself, Jerott's mysterious mother, standing in the kitchen doorway.

She held her designer handbag before her a little like a shield, her eyes round - they're just like Jerott's! Danny thought hysterically - her outfit as immaculately chic as Danny had predicted it would be.

«I heard shouting, and the door was open,» Kahina gestured behind her.

Jerott's grip on Danny tightened before it loosened. He straightened, holding onto Danny's waist with one hand and using the other to hide his own cough and to wipe the remnants of bagel from his mouth.

"Yemma," he said with a measure of contrition.

Danny was torn between the sight of Kahina - in flowing silk scarf, black blouse, white Chanel trousers, with exquisitely blow-dried and styled black hair - and the messy red mark on Jerott's cheek that he seemed to have forgotten about.

Kahina looked puzzled and concerned, but she smiled. "T'es Danny?"

Danny summoned the fortitude necessary to nod and agree that that was, indeed, who they were.

Kahina's smile remained warm, and she fished in her handbag and handed a tissue to each of them.

«It's good to meet you at last,» she said, composed now as though she were about to be seated at a Michelin restaurant. «I would apologise for my son,» she said, which was the kind of introduction Jerott had promised she would give him, and which made Danny's heart ache a little with protectiveness. «But I see you understand already how to deal with him,» Kahina added. The shy twinkle of fun she said it with left Danny with a stupefied grin and a twinge of emotional whiplash.

Kahina turned to the spread of food and grasped a bagel of her own without preamble, letting out a purr of joy as she raised it to her red lips.

«Ah, my god! You can't get them this good outside Le Marais!»

Clearly she had no interest in the even stacking of the tower either, and Danny let out a laugh of relief and received an equally relieved grin from Jerott. «Well, I did live there for a few years...» Danny said, pulling a chair out for Jerott's mother.

Now she was here and the anticipatory worrying was passed, Danny felt confident that they would get on famously.

[theartistknownaslymond]

Back in the late 1970s, when Taha was in his early twenties and working in a heating appliance factory in a suburb of Lyon, he started a club called Les Refoulés ("The Rejects") where he would splice bits of Oum Khalthoum and other Aarbic pop classics onto Led Zeppelin, Bo Diddley and Kraftwerk backbeats. His first serious group, Carte de Sejour ("Resident's Permit") was a kind of Maghreb-punk shock machine who stuck it to the French Man with a remake of Charles Trenet's classic "Douce France". Imagine Asian Dub Foundation gobbing out "The White Cliffs of Dover" in the early 1980s and you should get the feel of Taha's talent for upsetting cosy collective sanctities.

[theartistknownaslymond]

Welcome to the pleasuredome!

(it’s a Frankie Goes to Hollywood reference)

Here I post aesthetics, reference, ficspiration, fanart, obnoxious playlists, and occasionally fanfic for my cursed 1980s band AU for the Lymond Chronicles.

I always welcome asks and requests! Wanna hear a playlist? Wanna know which character would listen to your favourite band? Want me to stop already? Just ask me and I will play! (but I won’t stop, sorry. I will add more tags if anyone needs them for blocking though)

Below the cut is a list of all the stuff in the band AU so far! I’ll try and keep it up to date.

Pre-series:

Prequel

Sibylla and her children watch the moon landing together in 1969, art by me.

Young Oonagh, illustrated by K

Jerott’s paternal grandmother, Deepa Anand, illustrated by K, with some backstory

Jerott’s mum, Kahina Bensaïd, illustrated by K, with some (a lot) of backstory, partly relating to Jerott

Music is a made-up thing like myth (posted chronologically on Ao3. Hasn’t updated in a while. Isn’t dead yet!)

Freshly victorious at the 1979 Solway Moss Battle of the Bands, young Francis Crawford, aka Lymond, finds himself stuck in an awful contract and an even worse relationship. Things don’t improve as his first US tour approaches and Lymond struggles to find artistic freedom.

Game of Kings

Eloise Crawford illustrated by K

Isolation (Richard reflects on the loss of his siblings)

Gunpoint (Lymond meets Dragut when he falls in with some mafia types)

Bleeding out (More mafia types)

Les gens ne te touchent pas/il faut faire le premier pas (Pune, India, 1981. Jerott Blyth is learning about himself with the guidance of Graham Reid Malett)

Returning to the UK, Lymond has to navigate rumours both personal and political: what role did he play in his sister's disappearance and just how involved was he with the mob in New York? In the meantime, uncertain of his record contract and his inheritance, he has to make a living: he tours relentlessly with bandmates Turkey Mat (drums), Will Scott (bass) and Christian Stewart (guitar).

Queens' Play

Francis in the style of Munch drawn by me

"Don't move" (Lymond wakes up from an accident to find Christian by his bedside)

Trembling (Philippa Somerville thinks her father has just returned - it turns out to be someone quite different)

Humiliation (Will Scott tries - and fails - to humiliate Lymond)

"Stay with me" (Richard pushes his injured brother too far)

West Germany, 1983: Ireland's Eurovision entry, ex-model Oonagh O'Dwyer, is forced to pull out because of industrial action at the Irish state broadcaster. Her partner, the playwright Cormac O’Connor, convinces her they may as well go to on that holiday to Munich and Berlin anyway. The Artist Formerly Known as Lymond, in a techno-goth outfit with Irish producer O'Liamroe, is on hand to disrupt events and keep an eye on young Mary Fleming, part of the British ensemble. But while he's there who can say no to a few illicit cross-border gigs in the GDR? Western decadence at its most provocative...

Disorderly Knights

Laced drink (Margaret Erskine is on hand to comfort Lymond in the aftermath of a heavy night)

Pinned down (Oonagh searches the wreckage in the aftermath of an illicit gig)

Seeking control over his career, Lymond decides to set up his own recording studio and fill it with hand-picked talent. In researching the kind of set-up he wants, he's pushed to get in touch with master producer Graham 'Gabriel' Reid Mallet, who is now a senior figure in the spiritual movement established by Rajneesh/Osho. As the miner's strikes rage on and police response toughens, the role of music in protest comes into sharper focus than ever.

Pawn in Frankincense

Shackled (Jerott Blyth witnesses the carnage at Orgreave picket line)

"Don't try to fix me." (Adam Blacklock thinks he recognises something about Joleta's behaviour)

Bloodied shirt (Everyone is sleep-deprived and grumpy as they leave Dumbarton in the middle of the night)

Stab wound (Lymond is late to a DJ set and misses an altercation)

Joleta and her favourite things drawn by K

Dragged away (Philippa and Joleta go for a night out in Edinburgh)

Scars (Joleta is curious about Lymond's scars)

Nightmare (Joleta stays over with Mariotta Crawford, trouble ensues)

Recovery and "None of this if your fault." (Philippa waits by her friend's bedside after an overdose). Illustrated by K.

It's your choice babe - so you choose well (Archive warning for rape, E. Gabriel/Jerott)

Oonagh and Joleta drawn by K

Oonagh in Rajneeshee red drawn by K

Abandoned (Oonagh O'Dwyer abandons her life in Europe for the promises of a Nebraskan ashram)

Breathe for two (Oonagh realises she's trapped at Graham Reid Malett's ashram)

It's time to try and break America - second time lucky?/Or will America break Lymond? As a front for a final showdown with Gabriel at his ashram in Nevada it's not exactly subtle, but at least Lymond gets to learn something about his family along the way.

The Ringed Castle

Human shield (Marthe takes Philippa into her first mosh pit)

Delirium (Jerott suffers with a combination of delerium tremens and cyanide poisoning)

Adrenaline (Luckily, there's a telenovela star called Dona Maria there to get him out of jail)

Asphyxiation (still suffering from the poisoning, Jerott wakes up at Baron Morgan's motel)

Secret injury (Gabriel doesn't want Jerott to leave the ashram)

This is it, that's the end of the joke (Jerott is at Graham Reid Malett's mercy immediately after his escape attempt).

Jerott in the style of Munch

The only one keeping me sane. (Marthe takes care of Oonagh at the ashram).

Marthe's t-shirts, illustrated by K

Unconscious (Lymond and a small blond boy sleep off their adventures)

Ransom (Gabriel catches up with them in Vegas)

Hallucination (Archie figures out the cause of Lymond's present malady)

Muffled scream (Philippa and Lymond share a Vegas hotel room)

Tear-stained (Oonagh and her son are going home)

Anemone (Jerott accompanies Francis into rehab; he's in denial about a number of things though)

Marthe and Oonagh, illustrated by K

Más é an ceol bia an ghrá (One night stands in Dublin: Marthe goes to Oonagh's leaving party, Jerott stays in the hotel bar)

1987, glasnost: Lymond and an ambitious group of artists, experimental sound technicians and musicians are invited to tour behind the iron curtain alongside Ukrainian bete noir Baida and his band. The tour is to be filmed by ex-propaganda director Ivan Vasilyevich. Meanwhile Red Wedge tries its hardest to get the people of Britain to vote in a non-Tory government at the general election.

Checkmate

Stitches Adam Blacklock has had a rough night)

Numb (Richard encounters his brother in Dundee)

Embrace (a version of the Languish Locked in L scene)

Philippa's Raspberry Beret drawn by me.

??Profit?? No really I need to write more of the rest before I know what the fall-out here is going to look like. It will probably involve: Nelson Mandela's 70th Birthday Concert, the opening of the Cairo Opera House and the Fall of the Berlin Wall.

Post-Checkmate

Beaten (Jerott Blyth has been behaving badly)

All we need is music, sweet music (After a successful gig in Calais, Jerott longs to be closer to Francis)

Soap, soup and salvation (Danny teaches Adam to cook for Kate)

Coisich, a rùin [come, my love] (a series of scenes in Francis and Philippa's relationship)

Spoilers for overarching plot NO REALLY POST-CM SPOILERS

Don't wake the house (Jerott breaks down on an half-familiar (OC's) shoulder post-Checkmate)

Jerott, Archie, Adam and Kate get ice cream, drawn by me

A love that seems great beyond growth (in need of rest and recovery, Marthe visits Oonagh in her new life)

"Would you just hold still?" and What I love about many waters (Philippa and Joleta go for cocktails. Lymond helps his wife through the hangover)

"Don't look at me like that." and "When you smile..." (domestic, married fluff with Francis and Philippa).

Pushin' palaces to fall (Thompson the pirate causes trouble for the Crawfords. He gets trouble back)

Morosexual (Danny has a tearful admission to make to Jerott)

If this name wasn't on my lips (Danny/Jerott record collection-based fluff)

Explosion (It's a prequel)

Period-appropriate playlists (links to Spotify, sorry)

A Purely Spiritual Love (you may hear this at Graham Reid Malett’s ashram)

In a position of ascendancy... / ...a knife gripped in each hand (inspiration from Danny and Adam’s Jewish background)

Every Cell Charged with Stark Common Sense (young Philippa’s folk influences)

tant que je vive (Francis/Philippa happily ever after)

A twinge of approval (Danny/Jerott happily ever after)

Nothing but the Cathartic (Francis thinks Sibylla and Richard are dead)

Feared before God and the Devil (soundtrack to The Ringed Castle)

Come to Linger (Adam/Kate happily ever after)

Such Hapless Hap (Francis pining over Philippa)

Hard-wrought with Unleashed Storms (an Oonagh O’Dwyer playlist)

Stop your breath (a Joleta Reid Malett playlist)

By Some Alchemy (an Archie Abernethy playlist. DRUMS!)