#had to deal with ek for too long now this woman again

[never-as-sweet]

We waited so long for these absolutely amazing love scenes and super cute couple moments with wanpleng. Mama Wi’s fake out with this sibling bullshit better not last more than 1/4 parts next episode.

[cadcnce-archived]

"C'mon Sonia, it's been some months, not some years. I think I still got a good finger on how you work otherwise I wouldn't be here. Oh. That actually works in a few ways." Wylan realizes bemusedly. Metaphorically and literally it took some knowledge of the bulldozer princess to pin down where and when she would be. And how to deal with her. Or survive, as the cases usually played out. It's something that, like the rest of the evening, provides additional irony to his original intentions.

The more he thinks about the circumstance and what lead him into it. The stupider he feels! Not as pleasant a thought. But it's enough to eke additional amusement from in order to fuel the smile that carries him (hand in hand) along with the princess and the Parisian streets. He'd never been a tourist in the area before, and there's a sad sense that this would fall into the folder of incomplete experiences.

"-nobody can stop you from the worries or cares you hold onto. I wish I could say that's over with some of me but... well, I'm awful at promises. So we'll be playing all that by ear too. Wow, you're all ready to go to this restaurant aren't you- I'm coming I'm coming."

Wylan shouldn't be surprised, he knows. Even if Sonia was quite capable of keeping herself composed it'd be ridiculous to think that the excitement of reuniting was only to be held on his end of the pair. She had been waiting too. For someone like him to spend time with. Bereft of humor and American charm. Clearly. Most Europeans would see a monster truck rally and feel disgust. And now the princess had been handed a lifetime ticket.

Lifetime...

Don't dwell too much on that yet!

Wylan takes the door from Sonia, ushering her inside instead with a nudge of his hand. As if she'd get to be the one showing courtesy in the presence of a guy like him. If it turned into a competition, it'd be one fraught with trickery and you best believe that. Wylan is already letting the seeds be planted of games. Up the stairs they go and towards the booth.

"Okay. Maybe I'll have a few things then. I happen to be in the presence of someone who spurs up quite a few of my appetites. Ah- damnit." Booth style. That match is lost before it began then. Can't pull a chair out for a lady like this. He clicks his tongue, a silent loss recorded into the back of his mind before sitting opposite of her.

It's then of course, as he listens to Sonia regale about the menu and offerings, that he hadn't realized how nice it was to just stare into her eyes when she went on her rambles. Honey sweet voice that played like a string as blue eyes danced like polished pebbles. Heh. Hm. Ha.

"No." He says finally, once she's done with her nostalgia trip. Wylan has his cheek braced against his arm that was propped on the table surface. Far from proper manners. But given he wasn't necessarily dressed for the occasion, why bother fighting the uphill battle for cutting a presence he didn't care to hold anyway? For who, the waitress? Nah.

"So long as you're with me I think you're required to eat every burger with your hands. If only so I can watch you make more messes. Makes me feel better about myself, you know?" A smirk and a wink passed her way. He hasn't even bothered to look at the menu yet. Why put another barrier between himself and the woman he was falling in love with all over again? "Soon... maybe." This still doesn't feel real. But he's glad it is.

"Tell you what though. I'll let you order for me. Seeing as you got a grip on what this place has that's tasty. And I want to be surprised. If this adrenaline doesn't keep running I may just pass out and it's a little too early for that."

Sonia was accustomed to that sort of distraction: whether it was on the screen in a romantic drama, or it was the way she was gawked at during official visits and parties. It hadn't mattered whether she'd just met someone or they were meeting for the hundredth time: it was an effect that, unfortunately, she'd fallen numb to. It was all fake, in some way: whether it was scripted to move one to tears, or planned in order to garner her sympathy for various needs or causes, she had the unfortunate yet uncanny ability to see straight through it. Honed over years of trial and error, over her decision to see the best in others being thrown back in disappointment.

Until she felt Wylan's fingers find her own. He looked at her as if he saw her for the first time, and for the first time in ages she knew it was something raw, something sincere that no mask or disguise could ever replicate. The sort of moon-eyed expression that, deep down, everyone wanted to be looked at as such. In Sonia's case, he just happened to be the only person on Earth she wanted to look at her like that. To hold her hand like that. To stumble over his words and embarrassingly ask for forgiveness.

Something she'd give him every time. Sonia squeezed his hand gently in support, a warm, relaxed smile spreading over her lips. For all the various roles she'd witnessed Wylan play, uncomfortably smitten was a new one. She found she liked it, if only because she had the power to melt the discomfort away into something more natural, more at ease. More...right, even if the rest of the world would, likely sooner rather than later, shout from the tops of Novoselic Castle how wrong it apparently was.

"That's all right," She assured him as they stepped off the bridge to the Southern part of the city, filled with popular cafes, galleries and shops, clubs, and most importantly, places where one could get a meal after midnight. "I shall lead us for now. Just hold on to me?" Not that either of them seemed to have a problem with that. Nor did they look out of place: the streets were teeming with Parisian night owls: seeking their next bar or dancing venue, or somewhere to soak up the alcohol they'd consumed.

What was out of place was their conversation: surely no one else would be discussing faking their death and taking it seriously. Sonia led them down cobblestone streets, her voice kept low. She wasn't in Wylan's line of work of course, but she never knew who could be listening. "Goodness, you know, I never thought of that!" She replied, with all the excitement she could fit into a whisper. "That you used even more aliases than just the roles you took on publicly. Still, it does sound quite dangerous and while I can understand why you do not wish to involve me, I shall still worry for you. You cannot stop me from that, and I do ask that if you find yourself in need of help, to please ask."

She did trust him to 'take care' of whom he needed to. It wasn't as if he was the first assassin she'd ever met, and since he was still alive he had to be quite good (or quite lucky) at his profession. Or past profession, she realized with a gentle sigh. She watched him as he continued to stumble over his words: he had his own past life, his own secrets, she couldn't fault him for that. Not when she had the same: past mistakes she'd spent years trying to bury, to move forward from, hoping that they wouldn't one day return to haunt her. There were some ghosts that had the power to frighten even Sonia Nevermind.

And besides: once he'd taken care of things, even if his initial arrival to Novoselic would likely be rocky, Wylan was an adaptable sort of person. He could read a room, he had a light, jovial sense of humor that most were seemingly allowed to witness. He kept the most tender parts of himself buried under layers of coping methods. In all honesty, official rules and manners aside...he had a good start on what it meant to survive in the Royal Family. She trusted him, despite all the pain and sorrow she'd suffered over the past months. Hopefully, he could do the same.

Complicated topics and challenging choices. Neither of which were served well on an empty stomach, and Sonia was relieved as she stopped in front of a sign lit in red letters. Peeking inside the windows, warm light, dark wood furnishings, and trays of various dishes emerged from the kitchen.

"Well, you can certainly get a salad, but that's not what this place is famous for," She advised him, her smile turning more playful as she held open one of the doors for him. "We could've gone somewhere with a food stand but, after your trip here, I thought a quiet booth on the second floor might be welcome. Not to mention the array of fresh seafood, steaks, sausages, and house-cut frites you can order twenty-four hours a day. This restaurant opened in the 1940s, and is still popular."

Sonia paused to greet the host, indicating she wanted a quiet table for two, away from the windows. For the first time in ages, she could comfortably say she was on a date with someone she wanted by her side, all while in the presence of fresh oyster platters, plates of steaming scallops, salmon, and half a lobster, and a vast selection of filets, entrecote steaks, hamburgers, and sausages with rich bearnaise sauces all passed by on a single tray, accompanied with hand-cut frites or mashed potatoes.

"Don't worry," She assured him once more with a smirk, following the host up the stairs to a quieter section of the brasserie. "You can still get your salad. There's a few on the menu."

It was a better option than ordering room service or worse, attempting to use the small kitchen in her lavish hotel suite, which would certainly guarantee a fire alarm ringing at some point and interrupting them. Sonia slid into one side of the booth, the table lit by candles to accent the low lighting throughout the place. "Bit of a different atmosphere than the first burgers we shared together," She grinned. "I miss that. Maybe we could do that again soon? If you don't mind my using a knife and fork still. That's a habit I find difficult to break."

[shirtlesssammy]

7x16: Out with the Old

Then:

Oh season seven, what a wild and hurtful time you were

Now:

A ballerina, too snooty to dance with her fellow dancers, laces up alone after practice. She proceeds to dance her feet off, literally.

Dean is on the phone with Frank, and getting nowhere fast on the Leviathan plan, or the plan for Wisconsin. Sam, meanwhile, is drinking caffeine to escape the literal devil in his dreams. He’s got a case--and surprise! they decide to check it out. 

They head to the police station to check out the report on the ballet death. While there, a little girl is spending time with her cop dad. She sees the death slippers and is drawn to them. They’re just as drawn to her it seems, since they’re waiting for her in the bathroom. 

Sam and Dean next head to look at the slippers. They’re not with the cop dad anymore though. They race to the bathroom just in time to wrestle the slippers off the girl and save her. 

Cursed object indeed. 

By the time the brothers are at the store Out with the Old, the shoes have migrated from the truck of the car to the back seat. And they’re Dean’s shoe size. 

(Insert a quick scene of a real estate developer and her assistant talking to a local business owner. “I don’t think he’s going to sell.”)

Sam and Dean race to the store with the shoes, and Sam gets them back in their rightful box because Dean can’t take up a new career as a dancing boy. (Natasha cries about Dean dancing with Lamp and how he couldn’t do THAT either.)

They ask the shop owner, Scott, where the shoes came from. They were his mothers, and he found them in the back room. Scott’s mother passed away the week before and he’s trying to sell her belongings. Turns out there were a number of boxes that held cursed objects, and now they’re all over town. 

Cut to a woman making a meal. Her very antique-like kettle starts to whistle. She goes to it and picks it up off the flame without using a potholder, and proceeds to pour the boiling water right down her throat. 

Sam and Dean continue to interrogate Scott. He tells them that he found the items in his mother’s safe --the one COVERED in sigils. He wasn’t suspicious of the items at all (and why would he be??) Sam and Dean --at the END of their season 7 rope, are none too patient with this grieving man. 

Scott gets them a list of items he sold, and addresses of people who bought the items. 

They find and call in the kettle death right away. They take the kettle with them as they head out to find the other objects. They split up to find the other two objects --an old gramaphone and old porn. 

The gramaphone works its cursed magic on Timmy, an iPad loving boy. 

Just as Timmy’s about to stab his mom to death, Sam bursts in and asks for the location of the gramophone. Not weird at all. Dean calls letting Sam know he’s secured the porn. 

After the objects are secured in their safe again, Scott talks to Dean about trying to get his mom to sell the shop. She held out until she sold to a real estate woman. Then she died in a car accident before she could enjoy the money from the sale. Hearing about the death is a little raw for Dean still, but he tries to give the guy some advice. He also tells him not to touch the items in the safe. They’ll be back later to get them. 

Dean leaves and notices signs for the real estate agent everywhere on the street. 

The real estate agent, Bicklebee, tries to push a sale on the last holdout. The hardware store owner reviews the paperwork but ultimately doesn’t go for it. The hardware store is his life - he can’t leave it behind! She wishes him luck with the rest of his life and then proceeds to steal his face (leviathan style) and then murder him. Her assistant is...perturbed. He also drops that they’re under “Mister Roman’s orders.” (Shakes fist at Dick!)

While George, the poor beset assistant, races off to fill a coffee order, Sam blasts music to stay awake. Dean calls with news about the case. The antique shop owner’s death was mysterious and the development purchasing of the stores on the block are even more insidiously mysterious! Sam zones out. Been there, Sam bby. 

Dean calls up Frank for help researching a blocked website about the developer. 

Sam starts to drift off at the wheel just as a semi truck approaches in the other direction. He wakes up just in time but our poor little meow meow sunflower is in ROUGH SHAPE. 

The beleaguered assistant is just walking away with a coffee order for his chompy boss when he overhears THE Sam Winchester ordering a triple espresso. He calls his boss and lets her know that Sam’s investigating the old antique store. 

George, the assistant, really wants to eat Sam Winchester. Bicklebee calls him back and chews him out. SHE gets to eat him. SHE’S the boss! 

At Dean’s research cafe, he lovingly eyes a pie while he gets the latest updates from Frank. 

Frank reveals that leviathans are behind the development company. It’s leviathans all the way down! When Sam arrives at the cafe, Dean informs him that they’re dealing with a big old “nesting doll of dick.” VIVID phrasing, Dean! 

Dean orders Sam to get some sleep, but Sam tells him that’s a no-go. Lucifer’s singing Stairway right now, on repeat. (Points to the “NO Stairway to Heaven” sign.) Scott calls Sam and tells him he saw a mirror in his mom’s house and now he wants to rip his own face off. With an exhausted “eugh,” Sam and Dean head out to save him. Only, there is no cursed mirror. Instead, the realtor leviathans are waiting in the house, talking about eating Sam and Dean like they’re cartoon villains. Oh, and they’ll have to eat poor Scott, too. George is going to have to take over his life.

Sam and Dean pull up and confront the two realtors. Fisticuffs ensue but...George has other plans. He tells Sam that there’s a bucket of borax IN THE ROOM and could Sam Winchester PLEASE WITH SUGAR ON TOP dunk him into the drink? Sam burns George’s face horribly in the bucket and then follows George’s next direction to grab a sword from a locked case and murder Joyce. Sam slices her head off with the sword.

As they clean up the crime scene, they counsel Scott to flee and enter a witness protection program of his own devising. George confronts Sam and Dean and reveals that he tipped them off so he can eat his boss. So...can he please have her head? They refuse on the grounds of “Ew.” 

George tells them that Dick has his hands deep in local affairs all over the country. Sam and Dean should just hide out and try to eke out as long a life as possible. 

George tells them that the development they’ve been murdering people for is going to be a research center where they’re going to - RECORD SCRATCH - cure cancer. Leviathans only want to help, George tells them with a smirk. Sam and Dean load up the safe in their little trailer and blow town while Bad Moon Rising plays them out. They arrive at Frank’s in the middle of a rainy night. Bad Moon Rising plays loudly in the trailer - which is RANSACKED and bloody. Either Frank’s REALLY GOOD at faking his death (I always had hope) or he’s toast.

It’s Quotes all the Way Down:

Oh, what a dreamer you are!

I’m pas de done

With enough curse mojo, you can turn a freaking pencil into a weapon of mass destruction

Feeling guilty ain't gonna bring 'em back. Best you can do is live your life the way that you think would make her proud

My silence is your cue

 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[jamiedc-they-them]

Legacies and the people behind them (Platonic)

Requested Imagine: A trip to the future brings Daisy into the face of her future.

You liked the bar. Despite having never been in one, it was an escape. And, being friends with Deke meant you could spend as long as you wanted in it. That, for you, was all the time you could when not working and surviving.

This, though, this was living.

“Enjoying yourself?” Your friend asked, coming in and sitting next to you, ordering himself a drink.

You rose your eyebrows, letting out a scoff as you did so, “As much as I can, D. As much as I can.” You answered, taking a sip of your whisky. It was strong. It did the job it needed to.

“Was wondering where you went off to.” He admitted.

“Yeah, well. People talk, D. People talk and I don’t like it when they do. I mean,” You gestured around the area you were in, “You got this as your legacy, as your offering to what we have left of the world. Meanwhile I’m stuck with the fucker who broke it.” You vented, getting up and drunkly walking around the faux bar. You had a nice view of the broken earth though.

A view of your legacy to live up to.

“Hey,” He said, drawing your attention to him, “Nanna and Bobo were great, really. But, I’m living my life and remembering them. You have your life too, Y/N. You can’t just live someone else’s. What she did – well, it does matter as it’s what brought us here; but, that’s not you.” He comforted, walking over and handing you the drink you were having.

He then sighed, “Listen, I need to go great some new friends. So, I’ll be back, ok?” He said. You just nodded, staring into the void of space and the shattered planet.

 When Deke returned, you were passed out, head rolled back on the chair and light snores leaving you. He smiled a bit at it, at least you were resting.

“Where is it? Did you throw out the old papers?” Deke asked Rick, the bartender.

“Yeah, it was a mess.”

“Stop doing that. You’re always cleaning.” Deke complained, opening up the paper.

“Yeah, you programmed me to.” That one got to Deke.

“Really? Because I don’t remember programming you to talk back to me,” Rick tilted his head, “It was a joke, because I – I did program you to talk…Just, will you find the papers, please?” As Rick left to do so, Deke greeted the new comer, “Might as well pull up a stool and have a beer.”

Daisy scoffed, “Clearly, you’re a talented pusher, but I will pass, thanks.” She said, going up to him but not pulling up a stool.

“It’s probably for the best because I have no idea what actual beer tasted like. Well, my friend over there seems to have a grasp on it, but…” He drifted off, knocking his head in your direction.

Daisy followed it, “Who are they?”

“Y/N. Got the weight of the world on their shoulders if you ask me,” He scoffed in laughter and shook his head, “Classic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Daisy pushed.

“It’s an inside joke we’ve got. Doesn’t matter. They only get it when they’re in one of their good moods. But, good kid, still.” He said.

“Want to tell me where I am?” Daisy seemed to not be stopping with the questions.

“You’re passed out at my place of business. You got too close to my transmitters when you were stalking me. You remind me of Y/N in that regard.” He explained.

“So, this is your racket? You’re – you’re pimping out the framework?” That got Deke’s attention.

“I never called it that, but yeah. That’s the technology the hardware is based on,” He then folded up the news paper, “I—I had to rebuild the software from scratch because Kasius had the historical archives erased. But I was able to get my hands on the servers. I gathered bits of date here and there, and…the rest is guesswork.” Deke said. They heard a chair scrap, it was you nearly falling off the chair but you caught yourself.

“But your customers don’t know the difference. You’ve got ‘em addicted to Earth-as-it-was scenarios.” Daisy argued.

“Among other simulations, yes.”

“So, this is the business that you’re protecting? Your creepy opium den of fantasy?”

“Well, I can’t get real opium, so…I’m selling escape. The other way out of here is the final exit.” Deke started to get up.

“They’re trading one prison for another.”

Deke rose his eyebrows, “You think the lighthouse is a prison? Sweetheart…prison would be nice.”

 You tried to ignore the conversation going on. You wanted to anyway, you were drunk and would probably have a killer hangover. So, you did what you could to block it out.

“The Kree have her. You can’t help her. To try is too dangerous.” Deke argued.

“You said the same thing about Mack and Yo-Yo. How’d that turn out?” Daisy challenged.

“A catastrophe! This entire place is a very delicate ecosystem, and you all just keep taking a leak in the water left and right!”

“You’re worried we’ll mess this up or we’ll mess this up for you? I mean, do the Kree even know about this operation? Because –”

“Of course they know about it. They’re crazy about it, because I’m – I’m improving people’s lives. I’m giving them something other than just hour after hour of endless grind.” Deke said, walking away for a moment and seeing you again looking at the wall where the view had been.

“They condone it because it keeps them placid. I have seen the framework in action before. Pretend that wishes are coming true so the real hope dies.”

“Hope only gets you killed,” Daisy looked to you as you finally spoke, “At least here you can be something other than a slave.”

“You’re making them forget reality, so they don’t try –” They started speaking over each other at this point. About whether or not waves should be made or if the reality your friend had built was bad.

“No, the boat sank! Do you understand that? We are a breath away from extinction. We make one wrong move, and in a blink, mankind is gone for good,” The TV then came on about a SHIELD agent; Daisy Johnson.

“Deke –” You said, going to grab the remote when Deke grabbed it first.

“Wait – wait. That’s it. That’s what I’m looking for. That!” You looked from the screen to her as well. Your eyes wide.

“Holy shit.” You breathed out, backing away from your grandmother.

“Y/N…” Deke wasn’t even sure on what to say.

“Thanks Deke. But – I uh….I have to – to go.” You said, starting to walk off.

 Your heart was thumping in your ears, your breath picking up.

Holy shit, she was here. The woman that caused this was here.

“Y/N. Y/N, hey.” Deke said, running up to you in worry as you leaned against the wall, hands on your knees.

“Deke….” You couldn’t fully say it.

“I know. I know. Is it – is it bad?” He asked. You nodded.

“Ok, alright. Dammit. We – we need something to –” At that moment, Daisy walked back into your room. She shut the door to try and give you guys some privacy.

“What’s wrong with them?” Daisy asked, a little on edge.

“I’m sorry about this.” Deke meant those words.

“What?” Daisy wasn’t even prepared as a small blast knocked her back into the wall. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

She blinked, coughing at the impact. Then, it finally hit her on what had hit her.

She saw your hand in a pose she had done so many times.

You lowered it, having a better feeling now.  

Daisy couldn’t speak, so you did it for her, “You’re not meant to be here. You are meant to be back there…I’ll get you back; you and your friends. It’ll do some good. Maybe I can where you didn’t.”

Deke looked between you both, knowing how complicated this would be.

“Oh boy.” He sighed.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deke leant on one side, you on another. You both kept an eye out or any threats to deal with as Daisy went to look for her family.

“So, this is weird.” Deke said, trying to pass the time and check in on you.

You nodded, “Sure is,” You then looked to him with a smile, “Tess will not believe this.”

He chuckled, “Flint might, though.”

You nodded, thinking about the little rascal.

Daisy then appeared, quickly walking and with no one else in sight, “Where are they? We were supposed to meet up at the Exchange. Something’s wrong.” She said as you both started to follow her.

“Or maybe they finally took my advice to evaporate into this place.” You hit Deke on the arm.

“Deke.” You hissed.

“They were looking for a way to find Simmons. I got to track them down.” Daisy said.

“Grandaunt Jemma?” You asked, unable to hide a hint of excitement at it.

Daisy looked to you for a moment, “Yeah, her.” She answered, still in a rush to save said woman.

“So you said,” Deke grabbed Daisy and stopped her in her tracks, “Don’t you think you’re kind of deflecting from what I told you about…and what you’ve just found out…” He mimicked an explosion before pointing to you.

“I’m not deflecting because I didn’t do it.” She continued to walk.

“It wasn’t me who did it. That only leaves you. Now, I get that this is a lot and –”

“Yeah, that’s what deflecting is.” Deke and you spoke over each other.

“How could I split the world apart? My powers aren’t that strong. I’m not that strong.” You were keeping your voices low.

“Maybe not yet, but you will be.” Deke warned.

“And how do you know that?” Daisy questioned.

“Because planet earth went from smooth to chunky, and Quake is the one who did it.”

“And you don’t think I’d remember that?”

“No, I think it took you out too.” It was morbid, but you were probably right.

“Well, not according to the multiverse theory,” Daisy stopped, and Eke thought that meant to further explain, “You probably haven’t heard of it, but in quantum physics, there’s a theory that, for every universe, there are infinite parallel universes. So in my universe, you destroyed the planet. Maybe that just happened in –” Daisy slapped him before he could continue.

“So what universe did that just happen in? Mine or yours?” Daisy heard your snicker as she then looked to you, “You get any of that?”

You shook your head as you tried to hide your smile, “ He’s tried many-a-time to explain it. Still goes through one ear and out another.” Daisy nodded, but she was glad that she wasn’t alone in that.

Deke and you spotted something, a man bandaging himself.

Deke went off, leaving you and Daisy behind. She looked at you, and definitely saw the similarities between you both; the look in your eyes, the way you did your hair even if a shorter length, the way you stood tough but had a vulnerability in your eyes.

Yeah, you were a Johnson alright.

Deke returned, “Talk to me.”

“There’s been a Renewal.” He said.

“Shit.” You cursed.

“A what?” Daisy asked, looking between you both.

“Three people are dead.” Now it was Daisy’s turn to – silently – curse and worry, “Just hold your freak-out. It wasn’t your friends, ok? They’re probably just hiding, which is what I advised them to do from the get go.” Daisy stopped him rambling.

“Ok, ok. So where would they be hiding?”

“I don’t know, they’re your friends.” Deke pointed out.

“And this is your guys’ home, where you know everyone and everything that’s in here.” Daisy countered with.  

Deke looked at you as he sighed, “One of the vacancies came from Grill’s salvage. That means there’s an opening. He might take in strays. I’d start there.”

“You got all that from the shoe guy?”

“Well, shoe guy knows all.”

“Guess I should’ve asked him in the first place.” Daisy started to leave to try find the others. And you followed, “What are you doing?” She asked, seeing your progression towards her.

“Showing you the way.” Was all you said, doing just that.

 “How’s this possible?” Daisy asked as you led her the way.

“How’s what possible? You being here or me existing?” You asked, checking your six.

“Both.” She said.

“I never met you, because of….you know. In terms of how am I here? No idea. I never met my parents, I could only go off of what people told me about you. Most negative with…you know. But, Deke showed me some news reels of you. You just… You seemed like a good person. I try to be that as much as I can be.” You said, not wanting to go into some of the things you had to do to survive.

“I’m sorry.” She said, allowing her tough exterior to melt for a moment; she’d been there before – well, not everything that had been mentioned, but in the broad strokes.

“It’s not your fault. You were trying to do some good, and it backfired,” You stopped, putting a hand up to stop her as well, “Besides, you’re here now, maybe if I can get you out, we can make it right.”

She saw a light in your eyes, one that she still got even now – but when she used to have a lot more when she younger.

Despite herself, she smiled at it.

Deke tried one more time to stop you both, but Daisy quaked him back. It was a lot more controlled than yours. Still, she pulled you into the elevator.

She was loyal to her friends, and she knew you were too. So, she offered you that chance to come, and you took it.

You entered what Daisy described as a “Weed farm.”

“Stay close, blend in.” She said. You both made your way through, pretending to check on the plants whenever someone was about to clock you both.

You made to the elevator, but Daisy heard footsteps coming before you did. She got onto the ceiling, “Here.” She said, offering you a hand. She made room for you to stay up there with her as well.

You felt yourself start to slip; and just as Daisy went to help, you managed to save yourself. You missed it, but she looked a bit proud at it.

She dropped down first, taking care of the Kree. There was one left, and you dropped down, punching him and grabbing his rifle, spinning him where Daisy finished him off.

“Good job.”

 You made it down, and you were going to save your Grandaunt, when two glass doors appeared, and gas entered the room. You both couldn’t help but cough at it. You fell first, then Daisy. Looking up, you both saw Deke.

He’d sold you out.

You knew what that meant. You were going to be sold off to fight.

Deke had once told you his grandparents and parents were good people. Seemed his shattered that legacy.

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Before you woke, you felt someone shaking you, calling your name. It continued. Whoever it was, they were persistent. You saw the earth in your dream, itself in it’s prime. You saw Daisy being heralded as a hero.

Then you saw the earth shatter.

You opened your eyes with a gasp, and found yourself strapped to a chair. Daisy, however, let out a breath of relief.

“Well, seems you both have been acquainted. Two Johnson’s both as my prisoner. How…exquisite.” Kasius mused as he circled you both.

Daisy got the madman to not look at you and instead put his attention on her. For her, though, it was torturous, to have a man threaten her sister plainly in front of all in the room. She knew she would not break, but she knew that for Jemma or anyone in her family she’d do anything.

Her eyes flickered to you; and she saw someone trying to stay strong for sake of a fucking name, but someone who was scared deep down. She knew you were part of that family now.

So, you were both meant to fight, together it seemed. So, she knew what she had to do.

Keep you alive and get you out too.

She saw how you constantly tried to get a grip on the Quake ability, only or it to blow up and cause you pain. She saw how it was what you relied on. She saw how you could fight, but not for very long without that ability.

She got why, it was something that could help.

More than that, it was her knowing you as you. Not as a Johnson, but as a person.

She met Ben, another Inhuman, and the two watched you get launched again to the floor after not controlling your ability. She was sure you were going to get an Inhibitor chip soon, same as she had one.

There went your advantage.

“What’s their story?” Ben asked.

“That’s Y/N…my granddaughter,” Ben just took it in stride, “They seem to get the best and worst bits from me.”

“Any idea who the other half is?” Ben asked.

Daisy shook her head, “No idea. From who I’ve been with, they always seem to leave, die, or turn out to be a major asshole.”

Ben nodded, “And you don’t want that for them?” He asked, then she looked to him, “Telepathic, remember?”

“…Right. That.” She excused herself when she heard you cry out and saw the chip on your neck.

She put a hand on your shoulder as you blinked and tried to repress the pain, “Sucks, yeah?” She said, hoping the levity would help distract you from it.

You rolled your neck a bit as you blinked more, “Oh yeah. I’d say I’ve had worse, but that’d be a lie.” She couldn’t help the scoff of laughter that let her at your words. She was sure they were true. But, that had always been her way, laugh through pain and uncomfortable situations.

This definitely was one of those.

You were all lined up, seeing the people who would soon buy you all talking about it as if it was casual.

Then again, it was to them.

Well, all but one. One that you saw and couldn’t help your eyes widening when you saw him.

“Is that –” Daisy knew what you were going to ask.

“Your granduncle Fitz…” She seemed to not believe it herself. You saw how it hit her; having her brother figure. He was a live, and he was here.

Then it was time for the fight. Now, she had no idea how you were in a fight. But, if she had to guess, scrappy. Just like she was.

Now, it was focused, filled with flips and what not. Still, she saw you try and hide your fear.

It hit her then just how well she had been trained to do that. How much she’d almost become May in this instance; how the woman who was like a robot was now how Daisy was becoming emotionally.

“Hey,” You looked to her, “We got this. We’ll get my friends out, we’ll be ok.” She didn’t fully believe those words, but she saw how you let out a breath and gave her a thankful look; a moment of vulnerability for you.

Then, you both entered the ring. A double match, two combatants.

Shit.

As said before, Daisy could fight well. But, you knew that your Granduncle and Grandaunt were watching. You knew they were worried. You knew that it was all on the line. You had no powers, and you could barely fight with any finesse.

Not like Daisy was doing much better, being flung around the room. Still, she was doing better than you.

You hit the wall for like the umpteenth time. You had your powers, seeing Daisy lift herself up. You went to use yours, but your opponent grabbed your arm and aimed it at the floor. Your power still went off, and you went up in the air at can awkward angle. However, the guy still held your other arm, and used that momentum to slam you on the ground.

Your breath had left you, and you were sure this was it. But then you heard a pistol go off, and more voices.

You felt someone pick you up, and you were going in and out of consciousness.

When you fully came back, you felt a pair of fingers going through your hair. Your eyes opened, and you saw Daisy looking at you. She smiled when she saw you were still with them.

“Hey.” She said, in a soft tone of voice.

“Hey.” You said, before you groaned and slowly sat up, rubbing the back of your head.

“Yeah, we’ll have Simmons look at that when we get out of here.” Daisy promised, “You did good.”

“I got my ass kicked even with my powers.” You argued.

“Doesn’t matter. You put up a fight and had your own style to it. Besides, so did I.”

She admitted it. Holy shit, you did not expect that. You did not expect the great Daisy Johnson to lose in a fight; you didn’t expect the great Daisy Johnson to admit it.

And yet, she had; to you.

She was just human – well, Inhuman. But, she was still the same as you.

“Fitzsimmons still with us?” Daisy nodded, nudging her head back.

You looked back; you were in one of the rooms they would give those more prosperous, but you saw the pair embracing one another. They pulled away and looked at you; both giving you a smile.

“You must be Y/N. I’m Jemma.” She said, going over and shaking your hand. Next was Fitz.

“Sorry --- I…just a little starstruck is all.” You let out a nervous giggle at your words.

Jemma’s smile turned understanding, “Yes, I’m sure this is a little disorientating. But, once we get to a safter place, I’m sure we can have a lot of time to get to know you?” She saw how you looked elated at the idea. How a childlike side to you opened all of a sudden.

You nodded, eagerly, “Yeah – yeah, that’d be great.” You said, bright smile on your face. You then addressed the whole room, “I can get us out. I know this place. I know shortcuts and what not.”

The three shared a look, and then looked back at you, and nodded.

You gave a nod that held more confidence to it. You were going to help your family out of this.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daisy was back on her feet, and she saw how there was a spark in you now as you led them through the hallways and into a room with a view of a ship Fitz had been brought in. For a moment, you were at ease, you could get out.

That ship was then blown up right in front of your eyes. Well, shit.

Still, you had places to go.

You led them to a life support room, with some pipes along the ceiling that Daisy and Jemma found had a diverse range of hot and cold.

You found a hatch that you and Fitz opened, and it revealed something that made them afraid. Gravitonium. And it was powering this whole thing.

“Bad thing?” You asked, looking to Daisy.

She didn’t look at you as she both nodded and spoke, “Yeah. Very bad.” She said.

You were all met with a quick splash of bullets, one of them catching Fitz as Daisy pushed you to the ground. She took cover, quickly darting and getting the new guy chasing you to shoot a pipe, blinding him momentarily and giving Daisy time to dart in and disable him.

You covered Jemma as she moved Fitz out of the room, and waited for Daisy to catch up with you. She gave you a pat as she passed you, “Keep going, kiddo.”

You guys did, and Jemma had put Fitz on the floor. As you went to check on him, you saw a figure in the dark.

You saw an all too familiar helmet in the dark.

You were the first there, grabbing him and slamming him into the wall. He grunted, and you could tell his eyes were wide behind the helmet.

“Glad I brought the helmet.” He said, trying to cover up that fear.

You ripped it off, dropping it on the ground. You saw his face, your friend turned traitor.

You socked him right in the face.

“Alright, guess I deserved that one.” He admitted, rubbing his jaw.

“You don’t talk to them.” Daisy sneered, before asking him if he was coming for the bounty.

He wasn’t, as it turned out. He’d lost everything, and seemed to want to be team SHIELD. He explained to Daisy how he knew she wanted to get to Jemma, and how you wanted to be with your grandmother. You wanted to get to know her.

He wasn’t wrong, but you were still pissed at him.

He knew that, and didn’t meet your gaze as you guys went to reunite with the rest of the family.

As you approached the door, however, you paused. Daisy came back out when she realised you hadn’t gone inside.

You were leant up against the wall, hands on your knees, “Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?” Daisy asked, crouching down to your level.

“I – I just…that’s all of them?”

She nodded, before it clicked in her mind, “Hey,” She said softly, putting finger under your chin and lifting your head up to face her, “I’ll be right here, ok? You aren’t me, and that’s ok with the social thing. But, they’re gonna love you, and I’m right here.” She felt like she had to remind you again that she was right there.

You entered, with her behind you. The others looked to you.

“Hi – uh, I’m Y/N.” You greeted, a bit self conscious. However, you then spotted Flint, “Holy shit.” You breathed out, embracing your friend. It helped that he was here.

“Y/N,” You turned to the one and only, Phil Coulson, “I’m –”

“Phil Coulson. Hi.” Your voice was timid, but you then cleared your throat and repeated it. His smile didn’t change however, he didn’t seem to mind how you were opposite to Daisy in some ways.

He accepted it. And so were you, slowly.

Then the bangs from your chasers came at the door. Flint had moved the rocks to create a barrier to buy time, but there was only so much he could do.

However, if there was one thing you didn’t lose as a Johnson, it was a calculating look in your eye as you came up with a plan. Hell, you even bit your lip.

“What you planning, Y/NN?” You felt a bit of pride at the nickname.

You whistled, gaining Dekes attention, “Belt buckle.” You only said. He threw it to you, “This is a start.” You told him, and you clocked the thankful smile he shot your way.

The others followed your movements to a shaft that had been cleared by Flint, “We can get up there with this.” You said, waving the object you had.

Fitzsimmons explained what it did. You didn’t know the science of it, you just knew it would work.

All up, you thought this would be goodbye. You had gotten them up and out.

However –

“Y/N.” Daisy called after you. You turned to her, “You can come with, if you want?”

Your eyes lit up again, “Really?”

“Of course, you’re family. Besides, be good to have a guide to this world to help us.”

“You got Deke, though?”

“Yeah, but he’s not you.”

You softened a bit at the words. She wanted you there. Then again, you weren’t just her legacy now.

You were her friend.

“Ok, you said.”

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Σέργω (νοσταλγία deleted scene)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Σέργω (stérgōto): love (mostly of non-sexual affection), to show affection, to be content, to acquiesce (Ancient Greek)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: So, another deleted scene/chapter. This takes place between chapter 26 and 27. It’s just filler stuff that I particularly liked cause it’s the closest thing I can get to fluff without making myself feel insecure.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Aside from the usuals to this story, mentions of poisoning.

A/N:Yes this is one giant thing of me just referencing Orpheus and Eurydice’s story and making a lot of parallels between Persephone/Hades and the Reader/Ivar. That is about it.

Self indulgent? Yes. Unnecesary? Also yes. Do I love it tho? Another yes.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​​ @heavenly1927​​ @toe-vind-ek-jou​​ @xbellaxcarolinax​​ @pieces-by-me​​ @angelofthorr​​ @samsationalwilson​​  @peachyboneless​​ @1950schick​​​​ @punkrocknpearls​​ @ietss​​ @psych0crybaby​​ @revolution-starter​

And calm slowly but surely starts returning. Granted, it is slightly disrupted by the ‘diplomatic’ visit of one King Harald, who, according to Ivar, probably comes to Kattegat as a subtle reminder of the deals Ivar once made and to gauge at how stable the marriage proves to be.

And the possibility of children, which is not something you had considered before.

And something you won’t start thinking about now, definitely.

You smile in greeting, try not to recoil in disgust when the man with the inked face presses a kiss to the back of your hand; and for once stay quiet and only watch.

The nights that he spends progress simply enough, though you do notice Ivar goes to bed by the time you’ve already fallen asleep most of the nights the King spends in Kattegat, presumably talking with Harald, and you notice Hvitserk be colder than you could have ever believed him to be, as he smiles at the older man.

Even Ubbe, in all his apparent calmness, seems on edge during the time the other man spends in his brother’s kingdom.

The realization he is very much a threat, especially now that he has grounds to feel wronged by Ivar; is something you don’t know what to do with, how to feel about.

“Is he…a threat?” You ask one night, laying on your back in the darkness of the room you share with the man they made to be your husband.

Ivar sighs, “No. He is an ally. He is…angry, but nothing to be worried about.”

The low cadence of his voice, the choice of words…a part of you wonders if Ivar is truly trying to, in his own way, soothe you.

“You angered a great many people marrying me, didn’t you?”

“Just Harald.” He grunts, getting more comfortable.

“And me.”

Ivar smirks, “You won’t go to war against me.”

“For now,” You concede with a breathed laugh. After a moment, you whisper, “What will you do with him?”

“Giving him a looser leash in York will keep him happy. When Stithulf is dealt with and winter passes, we will raid from York again,” Ivar explains, closing his eyes again, “We’ll see then what we can grant him to keep him settled.”

You hum in response, letting your eyes fall closed. Too late you think about what you’re doing when you move closer to Ivar, one of your arms intertwining with his and your cheek resting against his shoulder. You feel him tense under you, and though you wait a few breaths in silence, he doesn’t move. He may not be breathing. With a sigh, you mumble, “I can poison him and make it look like an accident, you just say the word.”

That does manage to make a short laugh leave Ivar’s lips. You pretend to ignore how it trembles past his lips, how his breath is still uneven before he goes back to the unnatural stillness.

Though you consider moving back, wishing that he can relax again, you don’t move. He is too unbelievably warm for you to do anything other than closing your eyes and letting his controlled breaths lull you to sleep.

____

You eye the man with the inked face from your place at the other end of the long table, and, laying your chin on your husband’s shoulder, you silently demand his attention.

Ivar turns his head slightly towards you so, making good use of many late hours teaching him your tongue, you whisper, “I don’t like him, not one bit.”

He chuckles, and a strange pride fills you at being able to make him laugh.

In the accented and still rough Greek, he replies, “Me neither.”

“I don’t appreciate how he looks at me.”

Ivar smiles at this, a lot colder, a lot more…cruel. You know he delights himself in knowing he has you while others want you; especially someone like this King.

“He always wanted what he cannot have. But Harald is harmless.”

“No one is harmless here. Your people ar-…”

“Our people.” He corrects, switching to his own tongue. You roll your eyes.

“The people of Kattegat may be my people as well, but not…Vikings. You have strange customs and even stranger…moral values.”

“Didn’t you promise your love in exchange for an army?” He taunts without hesitation, making you narrow your eyes at him. Ivar offers only a shrug and a mocking smile in response.

“How else was I supposed to get one?” You intone after a moment, tilting your head to the side.

As the night progresses, though you find yourself offering too many fake smiles, you also find yourself learning a lot about the world -and family- you married into.

“And your wife…”

“Ex-wife.” Ubbe corrects, you remain in silence for a moment or two before you continue.

“Your ex-wife, she was…happy with this arrangement?”

“More than ‘happy’, I’d say.” Hvitserk points out, and a smiling Ubbe knocks his cup with his.

“Gods above,” You mutter to yourself, and the Princes laugh. Rolling your eyes at their reaction, you lean closer to your husband, whispering, “When you told me about her, you could have told me…about all that.”

Ivar only shrugs, a tension that only comes up, you’ve noticed, when that particular blonde is brought up coiling around his shoulders and back.

A woman that wasn’t so aware of the dark eyes of King Harald studying her ever since he arrived in Kattegat would have let her hands settle on her husband’s back; but you only stay silent and listen with an absent smile to the tale some rugged warrior starts telling.

“Did anyone tell you about Harald and the Princess he was supposed to marry?” Ivar asks by your ear a while later, bringing your attention back to him.

“I’m guessing it is a good love story.”

“There’s better ones.” He replies, and a smile starts to spread on your face.

“Like?”

He returns his gaze to the feast going on before you, and instead of replying starts telling you of a young Harald that set off to become worthy of a princess that -even though Ivar does not see it, and you are certain the protagonist of the story did not either- was never of a mind to marry him. He tells you of how he found her again and she had already married another, a man that, when it comes to land or titles, was lesser than Harald.

He tells you of how her husband was killed in front of her, and how there’s whispers that she tried killing Harald under the guise of seduction only to be stopped and slaughtered by the King’s brother.

He finishes the tale, and you consider the story in your mind as you chew on a few almonds.

“You feel sorry for him, don’t you?” Ivar asks, incredulous. You turn wide eyes to him, and before you can give form to your explanation, the Viking chuckles, “You do. Gods, woman, you’d let someone escape Hel if they told you a love story, wouldn’t you?”

“I…It was tragic. Moving.” you insist, still betraying a smile at the expression on Ivar’s face, “Stop it, it’s not a fault to have a soft heart.”

He laughs, probably at you, but you find yourself still smiling like a fool. Ivar leans back on his seat, and after a breath of hesitation -that you pretend to ignore, but you both know you’ve noticed- grabs your hand in his and intertwines his fingers and your own.

“Alright. Explain to me why it is that some old fool thinking a princess could love him enough to wait for him is…moving.”

You shrug, your eyes on the stark contrast between his hand and yours where they lay on your lap.

“He loved a woman she never was and she…well, she never loved him at all. Yet Fate brought them together, again and again. It is a tragic tale, as most love stories are, and…”

“And you like tragic stories.” Ivar finishes for you, and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t like them, they just…it’s easier to tell a tragedy than a happy story,” You lean closer and once again resting your chin on his shoulder as he looks back at the feast, you whisper, “Harald’s story with his Princess wouldn’t be one to tell if it weren’t tragic. With her death, with that fallout, the illusion of how happy they could have been, of how perfect everything could have been, remains alive.”

“Is that how you feel about that commander of yours?” He asks suddenly, and when you lean back in surprise he only grabs your hand tighter and keeps his eyes ahead, “You think of how perfect everything could have been with him?”

“Narses?” You ask, incredulous, “No, why would I-…?” Realization dawns on you and you narrow your eyes, “You can’t be jealous of a dead man.”

For a moment you see the clear tell that you’ve struck a nerve, but Ivar recovers quickly enough, leaning closer to you and eyeing you with a barely-there smirk in place.

“You were jealous of a slave.”

“Former slave. A slave you freed, and didn’t tell me about even when she became my friend.” You point out, furrowing your brows at the way his smile grows even more smug.

“I married you,” He reminds you, but you roll your eyes. Ivar chuckles, knowing, “Doesn’t help much, does it?”

“It should to you!” You insist lowly, “I never let him marry me, and he was…”

“Perfect?” He supplies bitterly.

“Someone that didn’t abduct me.”

“And why did you let me make you my wife then, hm?”

Because I wanted to, because it was the one thing that let me stay.

“The Gods only know.” You reply, mock annoyance on your voice, because you cannot bring yourself to be upfront, you cannot bring yourself to give away this truth just yet.

____

Thank you so much for reading!

I’ll try my best to get a one shot done today and post it, but in case I can’t, here’s wishing you a fantastic end of 2020 and an even better start of 2021. Love you!

[tellywoodtrash]

Hey TT, can you give a quick summary of what’s happening in Naagin 5 in the most You way possible (not holding back on sarcastic commentary) cause I’m tryna keep up with the mini-lbs without watching the shows and idk who the characters are or what the plot is LOL. Nothing fancy, just something similar to what you did for immj when you started LBS

Lmao ok I’ll try............... Even though I literally only started watching from the Veer/Bani wedding. So who knows how much of this is correct.

So there was this chick who Shivji decides to make the veryyyyyyyyyyyy first Naagin ever, and gives her some powers and shit (what powers, beyond turning into a snake???? Beats me.) She had a SnakeMan boo-thang as well. But there was a Cheel Prince obsessed with her, and he kills her Snake Boyfriend (Snoyfriend?) so she flings him into some Dark Void and then kills herself too. Coz what is life without men?????????? (Bliss, pure and simple bliss. You know how much I’d enjoy life if I was a Snake Lady who didn’t have to put up with men???? HELLA LOTS.)

Anyway, a gajillion years later all these ppl are reborn. (Ugh, the janam-mrityu chakra. How to escape, pls to tell, I would like to get off this ride that I did notttttt buy a ticket for.) Snake Girl is Bani, Snoyfriend is Jai, and Cheel Boy is Veeranshu. Bani loses her parents in some plane crash and is adopted by some family - a dad she calls Papa, an adoptive mom she calls Chachi (coz Chachi hates Bani and doesn’t wanna be called Mom), and three sisters; Meera, Mahek, and Dahek. (Mahek Dahek are ridiculously bad Gen Z stereotypes who only care about makeup and partying and boys.) Allllllll these ppl meet at some wedding where Cheelanshu strides in saying he slept with the bride and there’s lots of panga between Cheelanshu and Snoyfriend. The bride ends up dead and Bani sees Cheelanshu and his brothers thikaane lagaofying the laash. Anyway, Cheel Family (Members: Daddy Cheel, Chachu Cheel. Daddy ke bete hain Veer & Tapish; Chachu ke bete hain Daksh, Monil, Ponky. Saath mein ek live-in chamcha bhi hai Shukla bolke.........) is very diverse in their business dealings, they run an alcohol empire and a pub and also have some human/sex trafficking on the side, unknown to Righteous Cheel Prince Cheelanshu. Bani hates him from first sight, he loves her and keeps following her around like a chaep. There’s some randomness in between where he saves her from some explosion while she’s unconscious, and Bani and Jai remember they’re Snoulmates (Snake Soulmates) by doing one ridiculous fucking dance. They decide ki Cheel Family ko mitaana hi hai, but they cannot attack them until the Cheels attack first. (Thanks Shivji for all these useless clauses in contract. Vardaan nahi, yeh toh iTunes ka terms and conditions ho gaya.) So they have to keep biding their time till they can murder some cheels. Cheel Boy brings proposal for Bani’s sister to make her jealous and Bani decides to marry Snoyfriend. Blah blah blah, kuch kuch ho jaata hai, Bani sees Jai being thrown off a cliff by the Cheels, suddenly from somewhere one twin brother of Veer’s comes and attacks Bani and she’s like yisssssssssssss, thinking it’s Veer and attacks him. But it’s not actually her who kills him, it’s Namak Haraam Shukla. Veer enters screaming and crying about his brother and Bani’s like wtf who did I kill then????? Anyway Veer and her marry each other to exact revenge on each other. (What other reason is there to get married anyway??) Jai is ultimately not dead and is now like mwahahahahha I hate Bani coz a woman in power is unimaginable to me as a Desi Man, even if I am a snake too. I wanna kill her so I can get her Aadinaagin powers (what powers???? He literally already has the same power she does, of turning into a snake.) He does random absolute fail saazishishein with Shukla and a Hot Morni called Mayuri (BABE I MISS YOU MOST PLS COME BACK) to kill Veer/Bani. Meanwhile Veer finds out Bani didn’t kill twin and is like oh ok cool my conscience now allows me to love her with no guilt. No more revenge, only pyaar pyaar pyaaaar. Bani still hates him tho. Phir Veer waale actor ko COVID ho gaya toh puraane yug waala Cheel Prince comes back pretending to be him (brought by Snoyfriend and team) and does some mindfuckery and Bani is like this ain’t my husbanddddddd; he’s a different flavour of bastard than this one in front of me. I like my regular Lemon-Lime Chutiya instead of this Blackberry flavoured one. Hathaapaai and what not and Lemon-Lime Cheel boy comes back and murders imposter and saves Bani. Uneasy peace between hubs and wifey. Phir aata hai reveal ki she’s a Naagin and he’s like I love her anyway and protects her from his murderous family. Snoyfriend comes and starts living with them at Cheel Mansion for some reason and him and Cheel Boy have mad banter 24/7. The best part of the show.

Anyway aaj kal Veer ki long lost Mummy aayi hui hai (and she calls herself Markaat, even though she’s not the real Markaat, that’s someone else the Cheel Fam worships or something..... Idk man, idk...........) Anyway she’s a half cheel half naagin and also Snoyfriend’s mom, so surprise surprise, Bickering Boys are Brothers!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She wants to kill Bani to get her AadiNaagin powers (again, WHAT DAMN POWERS????????? I DON’T SEE NOTHING OTHER THAN THE FACT THAT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GIANTASS SNAKE. WHICH YOU CAN ALSO DO, AUNTYJI. SO LITERALLY WTF POWERS ARE YOU ALL GOING ON ABOUT HERE?????????) but Bros Before Hoes Mom unite to save mutual love interest. Snoyfriend decides ki evil bann ke kyaa hi ukhaad liya maine, toh might as well be on the good side, where at least I’ll have some company for this insane shitshow that is our lives. Meanwhile Shivji ne Bani ko phir se koi random vardaan diya where she can see shit that happens in the future and she keeps seeing all her loved ones drowning. So she takes them all to a safehouse ON A CLIFF FACING THE SEA. Then the sea levels start rising like cray (climate change is real) and Naagin drinks up a tsunami that tries to kill them all. Meanwhile iss sab ke beech mein Bani ki sister Meera aur Veer ke brother Tapish ki shaadi bhi chal rahi hai (coz zindagi idhar ki udhar ho jaaye par shaadiyaan nahi rukni chahiye iss desh mein!!!!!!!!!!!) but now the BTS for next week show Bani/Veer stealing the thunder and marrying other ppl instead. WILL YOU FUCKERS LET THE SPOTLIGHT BE ON TAPISH/MEERA FOR 5 MINUTES PLS NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Anyway........ yeah. That’s what you’ve missed on Naagin 5.

As a reward for reading all this nonsense, here have a gif of the Cheel Fam doing their thing:

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Ishqbaaz Liveblog 10: Shipper Villain Arrives

Hello hi everyone,

New week - new liveblogs! My stance on IB and my actual hook to IB is their interpersonal relationships. Especially of the Obros and Annika Saahil. What I am not into is Annika Shivaay (I love some of their scenes much later when they’re just wholesome beans). It’s really a small moment at the end but I’m afraid it won't be pleasant to watch. Still, I love Dadi and Jhanvi SO MUCH. 

Also - I love Omkara so far. His journey is very nuanced. 

Ab, back to liveblogs! 

- JWB

Episode 10: “Shipper Villain Arrives”

- Cool, the Oberoi drama continues with Tej and Pinky pro batwaara and the rest of the family being NOOOO

- Again, Pinky married the wrong bro. 

- Cool, now Om also is traumatized by the thought of batwaara. 

- Dadi… yes, hold everyone responsible. 

- Oh no, Dadi, going sentimental won’t help in front of your selfish son and other daughter in law. Tej would be happy to kill you if that meant batwaara could happen. 

- Arrey yaar every now and then this show has taken it to make Dadi cry.

- DID DADI DIE, oh wait no, she’s sitting in darkenss alone. 

- Oh Shivaay, being a good grandson to his dadi. 

- And there Shivaay, taking the whole responsibility of the Oberoi khandaan on his head.

- If he wasn’t such a dick to Annika he might have been one of my favorite ML. 

- Ah, poor Om, still reeling from the shit Pinky said hours ago.

- oh oh what is shivaay checking for. Is he checking for drugs? 

- ah, om, bechara. You know im surprised how well they’ve shown om and his addiction issue. 

- shivaay is actually a good brother too. What makes him terrible to the one woman he might love?

- ah, so Annika left the safe key at Oberoi’s. I’m afraid phirse drama hone waala hai.

- there, Shivaay is flash backing to the much deserved water splash and Annika is rightly angry at him. 

- lol Annika, did you not watch IPK? If you plan to go anywhere for one minute without drama, that ain’t happening. 

- YAAR THIS SHOW HAS PLANNED ON KILLING DADI WITH EITHER DEPRESSION OR FRIGHT - I’M TELLING YOU. 

- Yo who’s this weird aunty? 

- Also, what’s with villains hiding behind patli trees?

- I’ll die laughing if its Rudy trying to be spooky.

- LOLOLOLOL, I CAN PREDICT THE FUTURE. 

- Dadi, aapki khoon main hi locha hai. Your sons are weird and grandsons are weirder. 

- LOL, I’m dying at Rudy being surprised that waking Om at the middle of the night led to being slapped. What did you expect Rudy?

- Om, as usual, is pissed and annoyed at Rudy’s “8 hours” long relationship. 

- Rudy, are you sure you wanna ‘save’ Shivaay from Tia, lol. 

- Yes Om, you’re right, Rudy’s IQ is in single digits. 

- Hehe, Om covering up Rudy’s weird roaming around for candle—

- Ok I’m laughing like anything right now, the bros indulge Rudy SO MUCH.

- Shivaay am I agreeing with you that this is weird?

- Lol, they’re praying to angels to fulfill Rudy’s wish. Hehe, Rudy isn’t that dumb. 

- There, Shivaay feeding his hungry little ruffians. 

- Rudy is kinda important for the family - he is the healer. 

- AYE HAYE ADVERTISEMENT SHURU!!!!!!!!

- This time the three bros are advertising together for… Masterchef? 

- Om & Rudy. - we’re here to eat and dance. I don’t know who made our profiles here.

- Shivaay - finally ONE place where my profile should be. Why isn’t anyone agreeing?

- Lo, Dadi is here and going to be all senti about her potas. 

- Hello random villain. Are you saying that Oberoi mansion doesn’t have security and anyone can play with the fuse? 

- Isn’t the fuse supposed to be at an inner part of the house. 

- LOL, this random villain is also a shipper? I BET ANNIKA AND SHIVAAY WILL MEET IN THE DARKNESS AND HAVE AN O JAANA MOMENT. 

- Wow Tej. One villain recognizes the other. He immediately knew that someone did the short circuit on purpose. Kya baat. Makes me think that if Arnav’s dad was alive, would Mr. Malik immediately sniff out Shyam Manohar Jha since both are ek khet ki mooli?

- Wait, Pinky, if you WERE sleeping then how did you understand that the lights went off? Ugh, ignoring Guggi.

- Yes Jhanvi, you and your sons and nephew are the only ones dealing with the light situation properly. 

- WHAT DID I SAY!!! ANNIKA ARRIVED AT THE HOUSE WHEN IT’S DARK. SHE AND SHIVAAY WILL MEET. 

- Damn, maybe I am Devi Maiyya in this show or Chitragupt? 

- Oh damn, I just remember Annika has a phobia of darkness. Oh shit, really worried for her. 

- DUDE DO THEY FORGET PRIYANKA ALL THE TIME? DID SHE DIE OR SOMETHING? WHY ISN’T SHE PICKING UP THE PHONE?

- How does anyone and everyone enter Oberoi Mansion aise hi? What’s with rich people and chindi security? Like they want to get murdered/looted?

- OFC SHIVAAY ANNIKA HAD TO MEET. Are the villains the true shippers in stories? 

- WHAT DID I SAY. WHAT DID I SAY. 

- I’d kinda buy into the moment of them meeting in the darkness cause darkness is romantic and Shivaay is wearing a black kurta *haye* but if he wasn’t such a dick before and if they had a bit better moments then perhaps…

- oh no, he’s gonna walk her into the pool

- omg no Annika peeche toh dekho!!!!

- Shivaay if you drop her into the pool then ill drown you in Ganga river myself.

- ok he’s gonna drop her. I’m preemptively angry. 

- OMG NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

- WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

- BURN HIM TO-- wait what, why did Shivaay also go into the pool??? That to full--

- wait shivaay, you aren’t looking like a good person now. 

- you’re kinda creeping me out. Why did you get into the pool with her? 

- CALL THE POLICE! ANNIKA PEPPER SPRAY NIKAAL, I’M NOT GETTING GOOD VIBES. WHAT IS HAPPENINGGGGGGGGG

- Still like Annika’s costume though. 

- The End -

Hmm, I have incredibly mixed feelings about this. It’s obviously a highly sexualized moment - with the dark lighting, pool, both of them wet, intense staring and so on. What Shivaay does to her here, is exactly what Arnav did when he threw Khushi off a floor. Highly inappropriate things to do. And the only reason I could go through Arnav throwing her off a floor is because: it was in public space, the moment was neither romanticized nor sexualized and there was no Rabba Ve. So I’ll probably ignore the Shivaay and Annika until we come to the wholesome parts :) 

[starlit-pathways]

rules: tag people you would like to know/catch up with❤️

thank you so much @faeinthefog for tagging me, you have such incredible taste???? (as always) also, brb adding piranesi to my already-too-long tbr list

...speaking of lists that are far too long!! *cracks knuckles* let's get down to business!!!!

last song: excluding my many varied writing playlists, then probably eclipse by moonbyul or love poem by iu, including my writing playlists then this was my last listen

last movie: the prom. didn't personally vibe with it but i know it meant a lot to some (personally, i feel like a lot of what it was trying to do has already been done better by other films—like ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga). it had very pretty colours in it?? and i definitely wouldn't pass up the chance to play emma in an actual musical, but i feel like the story itself is too much of "aaaaand THIS is how the Gay Struggle™‬ applies to the average straight person!!!" which I don't even mind in a story that's done WELL (again, see ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga, or even one of my favourite books; the seven husbands of evelyn hugo) but i don't personally feel like it was done well enough here to pass it off

currently watching: oh no. a LOT. uhhhh okay let's try counting

1) godless—a miniseries on netflix which is v. good and very beautiful; essentially a story about fatherhood, masculinity and the loss/lack of it in a historical "wild west" type setting (it's a lot more diverse than it sounds. i promise.)

2) the fresh prince of bel-air—i shouldn't have to describe this one to many people lol, but it's basically a comedy about a quick-witted, very street-smart boy who goes to live with his very wealthy and privileged family in bel-air. it's very funny, and very heartwarming but i'm only a couple episodes in so far.

3) my mister—i'm only a few episodes into this drama myself but. damn. it's a show about two very broken, wearied people whose lives are falling apart in different ways (a very principled slightly older man, and a very... alternatively principled younger woman), who find each other and help each other heal. i've seen their relationship described as "everything but romantic", though the subject of romance and the nature of their relationship is questioned in the show and sometimes by the two characters

4) taskmaster—this one's just FUN, and also quite honestly pure chaos. i'm trading favourite shows with a friend, and damn if i'm not having a blast with this one. it's basically about a group of comedians who get given a set of tasks/challenges to do, to see who does them best—it has the exact same vibe of the joke "how many comedians does it take to change a lightbulb?". if nobody watches anything else of the show, i implore them to at LEAST watch this tree wizard clip. it's a masterpiece.

5) rick and morty—probably not my favourite type of show (monster of the week's not my usual style), but still good if you're it's intended audience. trading this with another friend, and i'm very much enjoying the experience of trash-talking all of the adult characters every episode with them.

6) mr. iglesias—this one's a very new addition. am also watching it with a friend. comedy about found family in a classroom full of underprivileged kids and the one teacher who really cares about them. i like it! i love marisol a lot as a character and mr. iglesias is very wholesome

re-watching:

7) the untamed—i'm going to be watching this show in some capacity for the rest of my life. i'm on my seventh watch by now and it never diminishes in quality. it's a truly epic introspective character exploration, about a quick-minded, entirely chaotic and very free-spirited man who dies and comes back in quite literally the opening moments of the show. you get to see his descent from being the world's envy to being the world's villain. it's a wonderful fantasy series about perception, the nature of morality, of family (born, raised and chosen) and about building a better world. did i mention that the main character is—as far as chinese censorship laws would allow—very bisexual and the story very heavily features a love story between him and another man? this was the edit that got me into it (it has spoilers but without context it won't make any sense anyway)

8) healer—what a drama. this is all about the power of information—how being informed and making information available can heal a nation that was built to be corrupt. starring a character who is basically a man who is a much poorer batman (kind of like a batman for hire?) with superman's love life (the show's got one of the best and most valid love triangles i've ever seen—and that's coming from somebody who typically HATES love triangles with a burning passion) and a woman who is feisty and strong-willed but not in an overbearing way? as well as amazing action, from somebody who normally can't stand action. i love the chemistry between the two romantic leads and just. i love the three leading characters, and a great deal of the periphery ones a lot. this show is absolutely incredible, would highly recommend

9) it's okay to not be okay/psycho but it's okay—a show that says neurodivergency and found family rights!!!! it's a very healing and introspective drama, but equally very intense/gripping/interesting? the chemistry between the two leads is astounding, and i just really love the amount of empathy this show has? it's truly stunning to watch and experience. starring an absolute badass of a woman, who acts almost entirely on impulse and communicates with the world through storytelling and fairytales, alongside a very kind and nurturing man who doesn't know how to communicate when he's miserable and an autistic man, who struggles deeply with his own fight for independence (i wasn't too sure on him at first, but he grows into just as much of an equally important character as the other two and i loved his arc).

currently reading: the earthsea quartet, by ursula le guin—i'm really loving it! it's probably not one of my favourites (yet), but she has such an interesting way of building up her world, and there's such a strong sense of compassion in every word she writes.

also i've recently found and fallen in love with this fic series. it's very nsfw and modern au's aren't usually my thing for historical (or even semi-historical) fiction/fantasy, but there's just something about sex worker!wei wuxian and translator!(and also secret fashion nerd!)lan wangji both being absolute disasters and also really cute and really repressed but also being neurodivergent and disabled characters (i'm SO here for autistic!lan wangji, traumatised!wei wuxian and chronically ill!yanli all being happy) and getting therapy that really appeals to me.

currently craving: crisps. always. of the salt and vinegar variety (this specific variety especially), of course, but there's never a day that passes when i'm not craving crisps

this was really fun!!! now for the worst part of this............ tagging. OKAY. so... please know that nobody is under any obligation to do, or even acknowledge, this—and also, if i missed you, you see this and you WANT to, then consider the act of seeing/hearing this a formal invitation

@ethereal-sserendipity @lillb5678 @genericfandomusername456 @mars-aria @ikatella @juliedohbigny @multiplequestionmarks @itiredwriter @myrim-anna-rose @gaysofmyheart

[alistonjdrake]

Of Rust and Gold: Season Three

*Or the likely very long intro to my third series of world building and character posts that all have to do with the second to last book in The Saints Song series. 

The other ones are here: 

Season one:  1 2  3  4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Season two:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Or can be found via OBS’ wip introduction post here:

heyo

Below you’ll find a run down of the prominent cast and a summary of what they’re all about so let’s get to it.

OBS, the third book in the series, showcases the Escana Empire on the verge of crumbling as a murdered king and a divided government threaten to tear the country apart. As some grapple for power and wealth, others decide to jump ship.

Prince Argus: After escaping the war in Codua and his sorta not-friend with whom he cheated on his husband with, Argus returns to Graza only to find his favorite brother dead and everyone else being a dick. In making an alliance to his father’s old enemy Argus hopes to gain a higher position in the council or in the empire overall as a dead king with infant children usually only means one thing. But y’know, he also has hopes to fix his relationship with Leo and to stop being manipulated by all the sharks swimming around him.

Queen Liliana: Problem in Graza #1. The council is almost evenly divided between her authority and Prince Leonides’, pushing them into a bitter rivalry that was toxic way before King Cidro was murdered. She’s reasonably unhappy.

Prince Leonides: Problem in Graza #2 and it was his idea to keep Cidro’s murder hush, hush until they’re in a better position to handle it. Whatever that means. As the appearance of old enemies and the disappearance of his own allies loosens his usual chokehold on the Escana government, for once Leonides finds himself at a disadvantage and there are many (likely a lot on this list alone) waiting to finally push him from his pedestal.

Lord Barraza: Partnered with Argus and ready to take advantage of the bad blood between Leonides and Liliana. His youngest son is missing after being implicated, arrested, and released from the last attempt at King Cidro’s life. Lord Barraza is pretty stern on maintaining his family’s innocence and that all he wants is peace between the Harvers and Barrazas.

Princess Damaris: Has been kicked out of the Order of the Knights (that international police force type beat) and now has blood on her hands but is currently in protection from the law on account of being a princess y’know. She’s really torn up about it. 

Princess Zurina: In a bit of a twist she’s now kinda close to Leo due to the whole “Damaris killed someone” debacle. As well as slowly learning to exert her own influence while her siblings and the rest of Graza fight with one another. 

Prince Orland: Eleven months older than Zurina and her right hand man. Kinda weird, but so is the whole family tbh.

Chancellor Harver: Bitter as ever. Argus’ involvement in Codua and Damaris’ murder has made Escan’s relationship to the holy capital really strained and has put him in an awkward position. Also, again, technically no longer a prince. 

Prince Aayden Ponsonby: Still cleaning up the conflict in Codua and recovering from whatever happened between him and Argus. His anger problems might have momentarily gotten worse and the precarious health of his father and changing attitudes back home has made his own position as Crown Prince of Oskya a bit tense so he’s often too distracted to be mean. 

Princess Hadley ek Ponsonby | Niężckna Hajnalka lik Villumsen: (I just like writing her whole name). Aayden’s wife. A bit on the wild side, might find herself in Graza because her husband as a (valid) reason to not want to be around Argus and also to keep her safe and away from what’s happening in Oskya. 

Reverend Mother Ulrike: Mother of all Santivian nuns. While she instigated the war in Codua she’s not pleased with some of the outcomes. She has a very anti-Justice Zisa campaign going that she initially was aligned with Chancellor Harver on but then his cousin killed her surrogate son so now things are kinda awkward. 

Hartanti Telak: Also currently missing. Still amazing and stunning though. She was last seen criticizing a nobleman for talking to her at a party. 

Lady Cordinia ana’Gustavo Carvallo: Now not the only Dowager Queen/Empress in the Escana Empire. In charge of the royal nursery and Queen Liliana’s closest “friend” if she can even be called that. 

Lord Enyo an’Tomas Serafin: Last seen throwing wine in Argus’ face. The highlight of his year. Totally not Lord Barraza’s sugar baby now. 

Ambassador Ulmer: Probably going to quit soon. The in between for Escana and Oskyan relations. He’s trying to flatter as many people as possible and keep the peace.

Ambassador Oprinchuk: The expert on Ardunese and Oskyan relations. An ally of Justice Zisa’s and a woman feared by many. Hadley admires her. 

Maltoq Zamen: Prisoner. Took a vow of silence and hasn’t spoken more than like 4 words a while back. 

Leo Dianglo: Has honestly been spiraling since he and Argus had their secret wedding. If he got his way, he and everyone he cares about would be leaving Graza immediately. He overheard some unfortunate things, was arrested for a crime he didn’t commit, and has another kid to take care of. He’s just having a rough time. 

Mel: Surprisingly, being forced to join the knights and then kidnapped by pirates trying to use him for purposes he can’t understand did nothing but made him an even more angst-riddled teenager. 

Mung: All things considered, unwilling knighthood hasn’t been so bad for him as he’s getting proper medical training and is no longer considered pirate orphan #2. Just don’t ask him how things are between him and Mel. 

Officer Gerwin: Commander of the Escana Knights. The one good day he’s had was firing Damaris. 

Sir Erasmus: Knight elected to keep watch on Leo and his pirate orphans. Although he hasn’t really been doing that lately. In fact, where has he been? 

Catalina: Marcel’s daughter. Leo’s daughter. She’s a kid and she’s around. 

Sister Rosalie Pélissier: Kellish nun who ditched the Kallenbachs and the Oskyan war camp to join Duchess Benedetta. But she wants to make friends with Argus. She also seems to know things she shouldn’t. 

Lord Gaius Kallenbach: Boy needs a break. He’s almost died like twice and no one seems to care. 

Lady Philomené Kallenbach: Gaius’ older sister and was (still is?) Sister Rosalie’s girlfriend. She also ditched the Oskyan war camp to hang out with Duchess Benedetta. 

Duchess Benedetta Onesta Cassiopeia de ave Astorino: The warring Duchess has secured a few more victories but might be willing to surrender to the Oskyans and the Escana Empire if they can all come to a beneficial deal. After revealing that she’s not working with her uncle and has her own qualms with the holy capital, she’s made herself a glowing potential ally but still a very dangerous adversary. 

Justice Zisa: The ambitions and unlikable leader of the Santivian world. He’s not a huge fan of Escan or Oskya at the moment. 

Princess Wiara Mirecka: The girl Leo found marooned on a beach turned out to be a missing princess of Gegra, fleeing her home after her mentor was accused of witchcraft and she’s been causing problems (and plotting kidnappings) since.

Tamune: The living god in the cells deep within Alda.

Captain Mercy Dunham: The island of Ruiz and his fleet are gone but he’s still out there somewhere.

Master Asli: Arrested and in Alda. 

Valera de Martí: As Graza and the Escana Empire struggles to stay strong after losing two kings in a so few years, some take the opportunity to reignite old whispers of rebellions and exiled fugitives may come crawling back to take advantage of the weakened government 

[hrtiu]

Worthy of Devotion Chapter 2

The room was secure, so Fox was happy. He stood behind the Chancellor’s seat, hands behind his back and eyes vigilant as he and the Chancellor waited for her pod to be raised into the bowl of the Galactic Senate. Chancellor Palpatine hadn’t been in the habit of bringing any of his personal guard with him into the Senate chambers, but Chancellor’s Chuchi’s youth, the relative unimportance of her home planet, and the unusual circumstances of her election all made her a tempting target, and Fox wasn’t about to take any risks.

Chancellor Chuchi took a deep breath, righting her long red chancellor’s robes and settling herself behind the podium that would, in only a few brief moments, lift up and into the very center of the Senate chambers.

“Don’t worry, ma’am, you look perfect,” Maja said with a bright smile, the white of her teeth forming a sharp contrast to her viridian Mirialan skin.

The Chancellor offered Maja a tight smile, her fingers clutching the folds of her robe tightly. She turned her head to Fox and he focused his attention on her, though from behind the helmet he doubted she could tell. “Fox, do I really look a mess?”

“No, ma’am.”

“What, is my word not good enough?” Maja asked with false outrage.

The Chancellor grinned at her friend. “Certainly, but you’re too kind. Whatever Commander Fox is, he isn’t a liar.”

Maja giggled and Chancellor Chuchi looked back to gauge Fox’s reaction. She’d been doing that more and more frequently, like a scientist testing if he had a soul. He remained silent and immovable behind the mask of his helmet.

The Chancellor sighed, the smile falling from her face, and Fox almost wanted to humor her. Then the roof above them opened up, Vice Chair Elba Ek joined them on the platform, and with a whoosh the pod rose into the midst of the Senate.

Over a thousand pods surrounded them in a giant dish of democracy, and the Chancellor looked like she was about to be sick. She’d been doing this for a half year now, but still Fox saw the terror in her eyes before every session—a terror she always managed to banish seconds before raising her face to the crowd.

She opened the session with all the usual pomp and circumstance while Fox kept his eyes on the Senate and his hand on his blaster. The opening rituals passed by without incident, and the Chancellor gave the floor to Senator Organa to introduce the bill freeing the clones.

Fox realized he should probably be more excited about this moment, but the feeling didn’t come. It was difficult to believe that any clone would know a life outside the GAR, no matter what a piece of flimsi said. And as the Chancellor herself often said, it was the budget that revealed what the Senate truly intended to do, and no money had been allocated to any transition or retirement programs for the clones.

So it was with little personal interest that Fox watched Senator Organa’s pod float out into the open air of the Senate for his speech. He addressed his colleagues, reciting the words Taam had written and the committee had workshopped over and over again to get just right, and to their credit the other senators appeared to listen intently.

“A government is only as good as its actions during its darkest hour, and I am afraid by that measure our Republic has fallen short,” Senator Organa began. “In our desperation to defend ourselves, we conscripted an army of sentient beings—of Human men—to fight our battles for us. Clones these men may be, but they are individuals with hearts and souls, and as it stands now our Republic has committed the grave sin of enslaving these individuals.”

A low roar rose up from the Senate, which was to be expected. Slavery was a cruel, dirty word, and it wasn’t a word anybody wished to associate with their own government, but Fox found some satisfaction in witnessing the senators be forced to reckon with their own misdeeds. Fox caught the hypocrisy of that last thought and grimaced.

“Order! Order!” called Vice Chair Ek, his gravelly voice amplified to fill the chamber.

Vice Chair Ek, a Human representing Hosnian Prime, wasn’t a close friend of the Chancellor and had been a surprising pick for Vice Chair. His appointment had introduced a lot of stress into Fox’s life as he triple and quadruple-vetted the politician and never felt quite comfortable with his one-on-one meetings with the Chancellor. Still, the alliance with a representative from a central, important system was probably wise for the Pantoran Chancellor.

Senator Organa waited for the chaos to die down, then continued. “We propose that, effective immediately, service in the Grand Army of the Republic become voluntary, that any clone who wishes to leave may do so, and that no clone is to ever be considered property again.”

“How can this be proposed?” Senator Burtoni objected. Predictable, Fox thought, his helmet hiding the roll of his eyes. “Is the Republic to unleash a hoard of men bred for violence onto the civilian population without any skills or resources to make ends meet?”

The corner of Chancellor Chuchi’s mouth ticked downwards, but she quickly caught the involuntary motion and returned to a look of calm control. There was no way the Kaminoan Senator’s objections were in good faith, but they were valid nonetheless, and the Chancellor and her allies would need to address them. Though Chancellor Chuchi wanted to pass the bill as soon as possible, it wouldn’t be practical for any soldier to actually take advantage of it until some assistance was made available to them.

“The Armed Services Committee is working on a program to support retired soldiers as we speak,” said Senator Organa, “and we will pass such a bill as soon as possible. However, no matter what program we pass, slavery will never be acceptable in the Republic. That will not change, and this is a wrong we should correct as soon as possible. We need to send a message as clear as daylight that slavery is not tolerated within the Republic—that our government abides by its own laws.”

The clones didn’t particularly like the term “slave”, but Fox could understand the tactical import in this situation. It just felt so much nobler and more palatable to see themselves as disciplined, obedient, self-sacrificing soldiers who willingly defended their Republic than property of said Republic with no other options.

Nevertheless, the facts were that the clones could not leave the GAR, did not have citizenship, and were technically property of the Republic, and thus the term “slavery” wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Fox hated it, but it was true. It had taken him a long while to come to this recognition, largely because it had hurt to allow himself to see how deeply the Republic he served and loved did not love him back. 

Senator Rathin, representing Shili, spoke up enthusiastically. “Hear, hear! My people have been the targets of slavers in the very recent past. How can we trust that the Republic will prosecute such crimes if they do not acknowledge slavery enacted on such a grand scale?”

“If the Republic truly intends to release all of the clones from their custodianship, they should be returned to Kamino,” Senator Burtoni said.

Senator Organa levelled the older woman with a frank stare. “You do realize that systems dealing in slavery will not be tolerated in the Republic, don’t you? Are you proposing Kamino withdraw from the Republic?”

“I said no such thing!”

Debate continued, though opposition to the bill was flaccid. Nobody wanted to be seen opposing a bill denouncing slavery, after all. Though the bill wouldn’t make much of a difference to his brothers’ lives until further legislation gave it teeth, Fox couldn’t help but feel some hope that things might actually go in a positive direction. It wasn’t a very familiar feeling.

After several hours of back and forth, Chancellor Chuchi called for a vote, and the yeas and nays were quickly tallied.

“The bill passes with 856 votes in favor,” Vice Chair Ek said, banging his ceremonial staff with a resounding thunk.

Fox felt the vibration of the staff through his boots, and his reality subtly shifted around him. It surprised him. He’d worked protecting the people in this building his entire adult life, but had never before felt like the things that happened here could affect him. But now the colors of the senators’ robes and frippery appeared more vibrant and alive to his eyes, the sounds of their voices echoing throughout the cavernous chamber more sonorous to his ears. Sure, there may be no practical way for him or his brothers to walk away from GAR right now, but the possibility was there, in a vital and real way.

He allowed a tiny smile to quirk up the corner of his mouth and his gaze flitted back to Chancellor Chuchi. She smiled in genuine pleasure at their success, and the now-familiar satisfaction of protecting someone he believed deserved his respect filled his chest.

The Senate moved on to other bills and procedures, and Fox tuned out any noise that wasn’t relevant to the Chancellor’s security. Regular check-ins from troopers stationed at each door came in like clockwork, feeds from various security cameras looked standard as he cycled through them on his HUD, and his visual spotchecks of the chambers all registered as normal. Eventually, Vice Chair Ek banged his staff again and Chancellor Chuchi brought the proceedings to a close. The podium lowered, the roof above them closed, and the session was over.

“What’s next on my schedule?” Chancellor Chuchi asked Maja.

“You’re meeting with…” Maja squinted at the datapad in her hand before realizing it was the wrong one and hastily swapping it with another, “Commander Fox’s recommendation for the clone seat on the Armed Services Committee. CT-7567.”

“Oh yes. In my office, right?”

“He should already be there.”

Commander Fox followed after the pair silently as they headed to the Chancellor’s office, the prospect of actually introducing the Chancellor to CT-7567 making him wonder if perhaps this recommendation had been a mistake. Rex might not be willing to work with Chancellor Chuchi if he couldn’t forgive Fox.

As Maja had said, Rex was already waiting outside of the Chancellor’s office when they arrived. He stood on their approach, helmet tucked under his arm, and saluted sharply. The Chancellor approached him with delicate cornflower hand outstretched, an easy smile on her face.

“Captain Rex, so pleased to meet a friend of Commander Fox.”

Captain Rex raised an eyebrow at Fox, likely wondering something along the lines of who told her we were friends? 

“Likewise, Madam Chancellor,” Rex said, shaking her hand.

The Chancellor led them into her office and she took her place behind her giant desk while Maja, Fox, and Rex sat across from her. The desk easily took up a third of the area of Chancellor Chuchi’s office—the very same office she’d occupied when she was still a lowly junior senator. Though Fox had enumerated the many security advantages of the old Chancellor’s office, Chancellor Chuchi had flatly refused to take up residence in those sumptuous rooms.

“Madam Chancellor, CT-7567 is one of the finest officers in the GAR,” Fox said. “He’d make an excellent addition to the Armed Services Committee.”

Rex’s eyes widened. “Armed Services Committee?”

Chancellor Chuchi nodded. “Yes. It’s absolutely appalling that the committee that makes major decisions for the GAR doesn’t have a single member with military experience. Commander Fox said that you were well-suited for the job.”

Rex looked sideways at Fox in surprise. “Sir?”

Fox shifted in his seat, unused to having to explain himself about these kinds of things. “The 501st is well-known for being a personable, tight-knit group. You’re close to your junior troopers and understand where they’re coming from, and you’re good with civilians.”

Rex cleared his throat, as uncomfortable receiving Fox’s compliments as Fox was with giving them. “Thank you, sir.”

“Captain Rex, the Armed Services Committee helps write legislation related to the Republic’s military forces, military research, and veterans affairs. The committee will be working on developing legislation that will reduce the size of the GAR and assist veterans in transitioning to civilian life, and it could sorely use your insight and perspective.”

“That sounds like a worthy cause, Madam Chancellor.”

“Are you willing to join?”

Rex hesitated only a moment. “Yes, ma’am.”

Chancellor Chuchi leaned forward across her desk, her arched eyebrow raised. “This isn’t an order, Captain. You can refuse.”

“I understand, ma’am. I’d like to join the committee.”

Chancellor Chuchi smiled and she clasped her hands in front of her. “Excellent!”

“Will I be removed from my current position?”

“You’ll retain your rank and place in the 501st, but you’ll be given this role as a temporary assignment. While working on the committee, you’ll be relocated to Coruscant and won’t be a part of any deployments with the GAR—at least until the legislation is passed,” she said.

“Understood.”

Chancellor Chuchi went on to go through some of the logistics while Maja gave her increasingly meaningful looks. The Chancellor was always doing that—getting too far into the weeds now that her job was the highest of the high level. It was something Fox could relate to. As Commander of the Coruscant Guard he’d often had to resist the urge to get too personally involved in whatever issue was at hand. That was one of the nice things about being Chancellor Chuchi’s personal guard. It was a simple task he could devote his entire self to without any distractions. Fox liked that.

Eventually the Chancellor took her assistant’s hint and thanked Captain Rex for his time, accompanying him to the door of her office. Rex thanked her back and turned to Fox, an uncomfortable look on his face.

“And, um. Commander Fox,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other before deciding on a crisp salute as a farewell. Fox supposed that was about as good as he could ask for.

Captain Rex went one way down the hallway and Maja and the Chancellor went the other way, on to continue the seemingly endless parade of meetings and committees and public appearances that each, in their own special way, provided the Chancellor’s many enemies with a fresh opportunity to kill her. Fox melted into the background where he was most comfortable, always wary, always at the ready. He hadn’t always been this way. He used to lead from the front, used to inspire bravery in his men and fear in his enemies, used to be the public face of the GAR. He didn’t deserve that anymore.

He followed the Chancellor and her assistant, always three steps behind, existing in her shadow. Where he belonged.

---

Riyo said goodnight to Maja for the fifth time, and this time the organized Mirilian finally couldn’t think of a single additional note or reminder to give her to drag out this interminable day. Riyo retreated into her apartment, shucking her shoes by the door and dragging her feet to the couch where she promptly collapsed.

She closed her eyes and let out a massive exhale, letting her bones liquify into the plush couch. The heavy steps of Commander Fox’s booted feet chased her into the apartment, their steady rhythm now as constant in her life as her own heartbeat.

“I wish you would take your boots off inside,” she said, eyes still closed. “Who knows what you're tracking inside.”

Fox sighed, as he had every other time she’d brought this up. “I can’t take any part of my uniform off when I’m on duty. But I wipe them off every time, to please you.”

Riyo sat up, a smile growing on her face as she turned back to him. Sometimes, usually at night after all her meetings were over, he opened up just the tiniest but—like a door cracked open just enough to let a sliver of light through. Those moments made her new life just a little bit less lonely.

“What do you think of Captain Rex?” she asked.

Commander Fox shrugged as he paced around the room in his nightly ritual, checking first the windows, then the doors, then any potential hiding places. “I already told you. He has an excellent reputation, is known as a people person, is well-respected by his men.”

“Yes, but it seemed like there was some… tension between you. I wondered why you would recommend him considering you two don’t seem to get along.”

Fox’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t break his stride as he continued his inspection. “I don’t have a lot of friends, ma’am. Rex is a good soldier, and that’s what you need.”

“Hmm…” Riyo said, disappointed but unsurprised by Fox’s unwillingness to elaborate. She folded her arms across her chest and put her feet up on the coffee table, relieved to finally be able to adopt an undignified posture. Sometimes Fox seemed just as lonely as her, but she knew if she ever tried to broach the subject it wouldn’t go well. That was fine—everybody had their ways, and it was no use trying to force him to change. In Riyo’s experience you got the best out of people when you let them be themselves.

Fox finished his sweep of the apartment and retreated to his favorite lurking corner, where he typically stayed put until the shift change at 0000. His departure reminded Riyo of a discussion she’d had with Maja earlier over dinner.

“Oh, Fox, can I run something by you?” she asked, wanting to catch him before he fully retracted into his bodyguard shell.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Fox walked back to Riyo, standing in front of her with hands behind his back and feet shoulder-width apart.

“Now that service in the GAR is voluntary, do you think people will start leaving?”

Fox remained perfectly still as he answered, helmet still on. “There are over a million of us—I’m sure at least some will leave. But probably very few. We still don’t have citizenship or any form of assistance.”

Riyo sighed. “Yes, I know. We’re working on that, but I’m worried that even after such assistance is made available, many soldiers will be reluctant to leave the only profession they know behind.”

“That’s likely to be a problem, yes.”

“In light of this concern, I’d like to make a request of you, specifically.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

Riyo motioned for him to sit, and he reluctantly obeyed, taking his helmet off without her prompting. Riyo leaned forward in her seat, understanding that what she was about to ask might mean much more to him than she could comprehend. “Will you be the first to leave the GAR?”

“I’m… not sure that I understand.”

“I can imagine that it may be difficult for many clones to imagine a life outside of the GAR, that the majority will want to remain soldiers simply because any alternative seems foreign and frightening. You’re the highest ranking member of the GAR. I believe if you set the example—show that it is nothing to be ashamed or afraid of—others will follow.”

Fox stared hard at Riyo, his eyes deep and unsettling in their intensity. She worried if she’d mortally offended him, but couldn’t imagine why.

“No, ma’am.”

“Pardon?”

“No, I won’t retire.”

Riyo’s eyebrows climbed high onto her forehead. This was the first time Fox had ever refused her anything. She’d known this might be a thornier issue than she understood, but she’d never imagined outright refusal.

“I know the legislation is not yet passed, but I can personally guarantee you lodging and a salary upon your discharge. You can even stay on as my bodyguard, if you’d like. It would purely be an opportunity for you to lead the way for your fellow soldiers.”

“I understand that, ma’am. I still won’t retire.”

Riyo stared hard at the inscrutable Commander, his passive expression betraying none of his reasoning. “Truly? I won’t force you, but is there any chance you might be persuaded?”

“None, ma’am.”

Riyo held his gaze for a long moment, then let her face fall into her hands in defeat. “If I can’t convince the one clone I know personally to retire from the GAR, then what chance do I have of convincing anyone else? This whole proposal is doomed to fail, isn’t it?”

“...I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to upset you-“

“It’s not your fault. It’s important the people around me be honest with me and keep me grounded.”

“No, I-” Fox started, then cut himself off.

Riyo looked up at him through her fingers and was surprised by the unprecedented sight of Fox at a loss for words. His jaw ticked nervously and his brow furrowed, his brown eyes looking soft and uncertain.

“Your plan is a good one, Madam Chancellor,” he said eventually. “My reasons for not resigning are… specific to me. Please don’t take my personal issues as a fault in your legislative agenda.”

“...Then why…?”

The vulnerability vanished from Fox’s face, and he got to his feet, putting his helmet back on. “You’ll be able to find someone else to be the first to retire, ma’am. I’d suggest speaking with Commanders Cody or Thorn.”

Riyo narrowed her eyes at him as he retreated to his corner of the living room, tempted to order him back but knowing she’d get nothing from him like this. 

Riyo slumped back into the couch, closing her eyes and just breathing for several long minutes. Then she braced herself and hopped up from the couch, ready for another late night of writing memos, urgent phone calls, and digging into budgets. Maybe her plans wouldn’t work, but there was no direction to go but forward.

[anony-mony-moose]

Let’s Stay Together - Izzy Stradlin x Reader (Part 1)

After a particularly crappy few weeks, Y/N manages to lose both her job and her apartment. She's generally known as a bit of a mess, but still struggles to accept help - even when it's being offered by the lovely Izzy. OR a couple of unfortunate events result in Izzy's pal (with occasional benefits) becoming Izzy's gal

look out for swearing and drug use

also on ao3 :)

------------------------------------------------

I rapped on the metal door quickly and stretched out a yawn. I was exhausted. Last night’s party had carried on into this morning, and then this afternoon, (which seemed to be happening a lot lately) and I’d gone straight from there to work so I was yet to get some sleep. I propped myself up against the wall and waited for somebody to answer, fighting to keep my eyes open.

The door swung open and I jumped up, blinking, to see Angus sticking his head out enthusiastically.

“Hey Y/N! Long time no see! I’ll go grab him for you.”

The door clanged shut just as quickly as it had opened, and I rubbed my forehead, yawning lazily again. There was a muffled yell inside, before the door opened and Izzy sauntered out.

He grinned when he saw me. His hands were busy digging around in the pocket of his apron.

“Hey man, how’s it goin’?” His hand finally emerged with a joint and he popped it between his lips. “Thought you had work today?” He mumbled.

I made a face and tossed him a pack of matches. “Just got canned.”

He raised his eyebrows. “No fuckin’ way.” He sparked up and blew out a long stream of smoke, the sunlight making him squint as he passed them back to me. “Man, that sucks. What happened?”

I stretched tiredly and accepted the joint, taking a drag and holding it for a second. My head was aching something awful.

I exhaled slowly. “Apparently, I was lucky enough to find the only club in fuckin’ LA that actually minds it’s employees getting high in the back room.”

He burst out laughing, “Right, real bad luck. Totally outta your control.”

I grinned and sidled over to lean against the wall next to him, taking another quick drag before passing it back. There was always something strangely comforting about talking to Izzy – even when he was teasing me.

“Well come on, it’s not like I was doin’ it on the fuckin’ bar.”

“Yeah, that’s true. You already tried that at Angelica’s, didn’t work out too good for you did it?” He glanced at me with a sly smirk on his stupid face.

I rolled my eyes and pressed my lips together, trying and failing to look annoyed.

“You are such a prick, Izzy.”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckled, blowing smoke out again.

“I come here for a bit of reassurance, maybe a little pat on the arm, it’s all gonna be alright Y/N, don’t worry Y/N!” I grumbled jokingly, a smile still plastered to my face, “What do I get as soon as I arrive? Oh, here Y/N, here is a list of all the other jobs you’ve lost! What, sympathy? Never heard of it.”

He laughed and pulled me towards him with an arm around my shoulders. “Aw honey, you want me give you some sympathy?”

I grinned and shoved him away. “I’m upset, okay!”

“Yeah, you look pretty distressed.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I am!”

He snickered for a second, before stepping closer again and frowning slightly.

“You kinda look like shit, actually.”

I hummed and let my head fall back against the wall with a thud, closing my eyes gently. “Coming down from last night.”

I heard him step towards me again so, dozily, I opened my eyes. “My break’s over. I gotta go back to work, you know, to my job.” He murmured. I rolled my eyes and punched his shoulder. He just smirked at me, took one last quick drag of the joint and held it up to me. “You can finish that, if you’re not too upset.” I narrowed my eyes at him playfully and took it.

“Thanks, dickhead.” I grumbled.

He laughed and turned back towards the door, before stopping. “Hey, what did you come by for anyway?”

I frowned for a second before my brain kicked back into action. “Oh right, yeah. D’you mind if I sleep at yours for a couple hours?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Now?”

“Uh, yeah if that’s alright.”

He frowned slightly but was already rooting around in his jean pockets. “Sure, that’s fine.” He fished out a set of keys and threw them to me.

Catching them, I pushed myself away from the wall and tried to think of a fast excuse. “Can’t be bothered walking all the way back to mine.”

“Seriously, it’s fine.” He yanked the door open then turned back to me again, smirking. “I’ll see ya when I get home, honey.”

I grinned sleepily and waved. “Have a good time at work, sweetheart!” He winked at me, then disappeared inside as the door fell shut.

*****

Someone was trying to break down the door. At least, that was what it sounded like. I groaned and rolled over to plant my face in the pillow. Instead, I was met with something scratchy and- I scrunched my face up and blinked my eyes open. Carpet. The thumping outside was still going on, and someone was shouting now.

Where the fuck was I?

“Y/N, open the damn door!”

Shit, I thought sleepily, that’ll be the landlord. How late was I on rent this time? Too late to go back to sleep and deal with it later?

I sat bolt upright. Shit. No rent. Angry landlord. No apartment. My eyes focused and I realised that this couldn’t be my place.

“Y/N, for fuck’s sake!” The banging started again.

I rubbed my forehead and clambered to my feet. I was at Izzy’s – and now I was awake, that clearly sounded like Izzy’s voice shouting outside. I shuffled over to the door. He probably didn’t have a spare key, poor bloke. I hoped he hadn’t been waiting for too long.

I slipped the chain from the door and yanked it open, moving to the side so he could come in.

“Took you long enough. Thought you fuckin’ died or somethin’.” He slinked in past me and smiled, shrugging off his jacket. “Have a good nap?”

I hummed. “Haven’t slept like that in ages. Out like a fuckin’ light, soon as I got here.” He dumped the jacket on the counter and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the paper bag in his hand. “How was work, darling?”

He snorted and took a swig. “It was great. When’s dinner?”

“Think you might be drinkin’ it.”

He smirked and offered the bottle to me, striding over to sort through the jumble of clothes in the corner of the room. I had a few gulps as I followed him and sat down on the bed (well, a mattress on the floor), watching him fish something out of the pile. He started pulling off his work shirt as he talked.

“You’re comin’ out tonight, right?”

I nodded and leaned back on my elbows, rubbing my back a little. I hated sleeping on the floor. I hadn’t had to do that sober in a long time. I had another drink. “What’s happening?”

He slipped on a white button up, half unbuttoned of course, and reached out for the bottle. “Well, I was meant to be meetin’ the guys right about now. Couldn’t get into my apartment though.”

I smirked. “Shit, that’s unfortunate.”

“Yeah, some asshole locked me out.” He raised his eyebrows in a challenge as he wandered past me to pick up his jacket again, but stopped and did a bit of a double-take when he passed my own jacket balled up on the floor. “Did you sleep on my floor?”

I cocked my head to the side. “Uh… Is that a problem?”

He bent down to pick it up and handed it to me with an amused, slightly puzzled look on his face. “Well, there is a bed right there Y/N.”

“Right. Thought it might be a bit weird for you to come home and find me, you know… Asleep in your bed.” Obviously I’d woken up in his bed before, but that was only ever the morning after. Plus, he was there too. It felt a little different doing that sober, and without him even present in the apartment.

He just laughed, and went to get his coat on. “You can sleep in my bed Y/N.”

I smirked and dove a hand into my pocket for his keys. “Well thanks Iz,” I said, swinging them from my finger. “I’ll remember that for next time, shall I?”

*****

“Honestly, I’m fine about the whole thing.” I yelled, turning towards Duff’s ear so he could hear me over whatever crap the club was playing. “I deserved it.”

He pulled an exaggerated frown and grabbed my arm earnestly, making sure I was paying attention as he yelled back. “Yeah, well they didn’t deserve you.”

I laughed through another gulp of beer and slid back against the seat to avoid falling off it, his hand dropping away. “Too fuckin’ right! I’m an independent woman who don’t need no job.”

He started cackling and slumped back too, mostly onto me. We’d ended up squished shoulder to shoulder in middle of a packed little booth, everybody pushed closer together as more and more people joined our group for the night. I was sat pressed up between him and Slash, with the latter’s right arm wedged behind my lower back, and somebody else’s boot-clad feet resting like lead weights on my thighs – I suspected they were Axl’s, the cheeky fucker.

I hadn’t really meant to tell the others about getting fired. There seemed no point; jobs came and went with me (okay, mainly went) fast enough that by the time everybody knew I had one, I’d usually already have lost it. By this time next week, I’d be losing another one.

Duff had eked it out of me though, plying me with plenty of booze and no shortage of teasing. It was pretty much impossible to keep things from Duff. Persuasive bassists aside, however, one thing I was determined to keep to myself was the apartment thing. Actually, even thinking about it was probably dangerous, I realised. I really was quite drunk. At this point in any night, there was often a large risk of cats-getting-out-of-bags if I didn’t keep my wits about me. Probably best to stay away from Duff altogether, now I thought about it.

I downed the last dregs of my drink and heaved myself upright, shoving Axl’s feet off my lap. “Another round?” I shouted to Duff, waggling my empty glass in front of him.

He frowned again, this time genuinely. “I’ll get ‘em.” Then, seeing I was serious, “You just lost your fuckin’ job, you can’t buy my fuckin’ drinks right now!”

He started shifting to get up and I laughed, trying to shove him back down. He grinned up at me and slurred, “Come on, don’t be a bitch! You’re not buying my fuckin’ drink.”

“You’ve been gettin’ my drinks all night!”

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Yes, and I have a fucking job Y/L/N!”

I laughed, “Good for you McKagan! You want beer or vodka?”

He collapsed back against the seat, casting his eyes heavenward. “I don’t know how I put up with you.” He glanced back up at me a little cheekily. “Beer, please.”

I giggled and nodded, then started climbing out of the booth, picking up drink orders as I went. I made it halfway to the bar when I heard someone calling me.

I pivoted round and beamed as I saw Izzy sidling up through the throng of Wednesday night drunks, raising his hand in a lazy wave. There was a bright red light shining from somewhere to the left, casting a warm glow over his face, chiselling out shadows across his cheekbones and nose. I had a tendency to forget how gorgeous he was when I was sober. But seeing him now… I watched him make his way over, shoulders swinging with one hand buried in his pockets, his other playing with a unlit cigarette.

“I’m just gettin’ more drinks.” I announced as he reached me and slotted the cig behind his ear. His forehead scrunched up as he listened – and had he always done that? It looked ridiculously sweet as he did it then.

“What?” He stepped closer and slung an arm round my waist, angling his head closer to mine.

“Drinks!” I shouted, feeling stupidly delighted at his hand splayed over my stomach. His chest was warm against my arm and when he nodded, I could feel the brush of his hair on my temple. He started leading me forward to the bar, weaving between the other patrons.

The nearer we got the louder it became, with everybody crammed in trying to place their orders, and Izzy had to slip behind me so I could worm my way through the crowd. Now he was pressed against my back, his arms locked in a tight circle around my waist. So we’re doing this tonight, I thought.

“You okay?”

I jumped a little bit as he spoke, his mouth on my ear, hot breath fanning over my cheek and I felt more than heard him chuckling.

“Forget I was here?”

I leaned back into him slightly, and smiled at the way he stooped down to give me his ear when I turned to reply. “Like that’s possible with these latched onto me.” I tapped his forearm, still flush against my front. “I’m not gonna run away, you know.”

He squeezed my sides and bent down again. “What are we ordering?”

I smirked and pitched forwards to get the bartenders attention, rattling off about ten different drinks as she wrote them down. I twisted round to raise my eyebrows at Izzy, who quickly bent forward to give his order, squishing me up against the bar. His hands slid back to twist me round until I was facing him, and he shifted his forearms to rest against the counter behind me.

I frowned and leaned up to speak to him.

“I didn’t pay?”

“I have a tab.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thought I was gettin’ this round.”

“Yeah, well you don’t have any money.” He smirked, and tacked on, “Or a job.”

My arms folded over my chest, pushing up against his too as he stood so close. “Why does everybody keep fuckin’ sayin’ that.”

“Is it not true?”

I scowled at him, although my head involuntarily bobbing along to the music playing might have dampened the effect. He didn’t appear to be very affected anyway. If anything, he looked like he was trying not to laugh, ducking his head down and pursing his lips.

“So, how come you had to crash at mine today? You lose your job and your apartment?”

Oh great, just what I didn’t want to talk about.

I laughed it off and tried to remember which lie I given him before. (My go-to tactic, nearly 100% successful when sober; unfortunately, less so when drunk.) “I was way too fucked up to make it all the way back to mine this afternoon. Probably woulda got myself lost or somethin’.” I smiled sincerely.

“You looked half fuckin’ dead.”

I grinned and thanked whichever sun was shining down on me in relief. “Fuckin’ felt it.”

His eyes darted up over my shoulder and he nodded at someone. “Drinks are ready, you wanna stay here for a minute?”

“Sure.”

I slipped my hand under his jacket to loop around his back as he stepped closer, reaching around me to grab our drinks. I glanced up, having to crane my neck to meet his eyes, and we swapped smiles as he passed me mine.

“You gonna be able to make rent?” He said, close enough that he didn’t have to shout anymore.

I sighed. Why was he hanging onto this?

“It’s fine Iz, really. Don’t worry about shit like that.”

He rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. “Great, not worried at all. Thanks.”

“This is why I don’t tell you shit.” I muttered, knocking back my beer.

“What, in case I try and help you?” He snarked, leaning forward a touch and setting his glass down. “I always fuckin’ find out anyway.”

I laughed sourly. “Sure you do.”

His brow furrowed, crinkling up his forehead. “What?”

“I got kicked out like, two fuckin’ weeks ago Izzy. I haven’t made rent in months. Didn’t find that one out, did you?”

He blinked. I chewed my lip. Fuck. Was not supposed to let that slip.

What was I saying about cats and bags?

I looked away, but it was difficult when we were pressed so close together. The jostling crowd of people had grown and now there wasn’t room for Izzy to move away, whether he wanted to or not. My hand slipped away from his back and I wrapped my arms around myself, swigging my drink. This was not a conversation I had hoped to have tonight.

It wasn’t like I’d been struggling for places to stay, sleeping rough or something – I had enough friends across the city that were happy to put me up for a few nights. And anyway, most of the time I just crashed at whichever party I finished up at. It wasn’t exactly a dire situation. The way I saw it, there was no point in bothering the guys about something so minor.

I had a hunch that that excuse wouldn’t hold up with Izzy though. He released a long-suffering sigh.

“For fucks sake, Y/N.” I sucked my teeth and kept my gaze locked on some couple just past his shoulder. “Why’d you never let me help you out?”

I snorted. “Like you’ve got money to spare on my rent, Iz.”

“I got plenty of money, Y/N/N.” I eyed him sceptically. He huffed and shifted his weight to his other foot, his hip jutting snugly into mine. “So where you been stayin’ for two fuckin’ weeks then?”

“These past few days… You’re not gonna like it.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I’m just lovin’ the rest of this so far.”

I peeked up at him. “You know Nicky Hanson?”

He glared.

“Well…”

“That guy? Really?” He sighed in frustration and dropped his head forward onto my shoulder. “That fuckin’ asshole?”

My arms found their way back round his middle, sliding over the smooth fabric of his shirt, and I pouted. “His apartment’s got hot water. I really value that in a guy.”

I felt him laugh grudgingly, and found myself laughing too.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, it’s just-“ I paused to chuckle. “I mean he has got hot running water. I didn’t see the point in worryin’ you. I was only thinkin’ about your feelin’s Iz.”

He lifted his head, smiling sarcastically. “Well thanks for bein’ so thoughtful, Y/N/N.”

I beamed back at him. “No problem, man. Any time.”

“Just so we’re clear though, you’re stayin’ with me tonight.”

I laughed as his arms folded back around me, drawing me into his chest.

“Can’t take my eye off you for one fuckin’ second, can I?” I bit down a smile as he kissed my forehead.

“We should probably get those drinks back to the table.” I mumbled, not actually bothered if he heard me or not. I burrowed my face into his collarbone, placing an unhurried kiss at the base of his neck.

Yes, I was quite happy to stay right there for the moment.

*****

The mattress dipped somewhere to my right and covers brushed lightly over my back. I opened my eyes reluctantly, screwing my face up against the bright light that streamed in through a crack in the blinds. Izzy’s bare feet treaded carefully past me.

I rolled over, dragging the sheet with me, and watched him hastily shimmy a pair of leather pants up his hips, tiptoeing round as he fastened them. He must have felt my eyes on him because he immediately glanced up.

“What’s goin’ on?” I rasped, fumbling on the floor beside the bed for a cigarette.

“Goin’ to work. You go back to sleep.” He murmured. The room was quiet except for his light footsteps as he hurried to get dressed. I found a cigarette and lit it quickly, squinting at him.

“You’re late?”

He nodded quickly and pulled his work shirt over his head. “Didn’t wanna get outta bed.”

That made me smile. Bundled up cosily under the warm covers right now, I knew just what he meant. I smirked as I followed his hectic movement around the space, finally finding his keys and jacket. “You should probably get a move on.” I teased.

He darted back to the bed to grab a pack of cigarettes, then did one better and snatched mine right from my lips.

“Thanks.” He grinned and dashed away to the door, before I had time to roll my eyes. He jammed his feet into his boots and, turning the key in the lock, whipped the door open. At the last minute, he changed his mind and snapped round to point a finger at me.

“Be here when I get back.”

I smiled widely. “Will do.”

He paused for a second before adding, “And don’t fuckin’ fall asleep.”

I laughed as he bolted through the door, chucking the keys inside for me and slamming it behind him. The walls here were thin enough that I still could hear him as he sped down the corridor, the main door crashing as it fell shut.

I drew a deep breath and sighed contentedly. What to do today?

It was a good feeling – all those hours stretching out in front of me with no work to fill them. That being said, I probably should get on with finding a job straight away, as unappealing as that sounded. Even when I found one, I’d be waiting for at last a week for my first wage before I could put down a deposit on a new flat, and Izzy wouldn’t want me hanging around here for too long. Best to get cracking sooner rather than later.

A knock on the door startled me from my vague planning. I pushed myself to my feet and tugged one of Izzy’s longer shirts from the floor, scanning until I spotted a pair of knickers. I slipped those on too and, rubbing my eyes, traipsed over to the door.

Slash stood swaying slightly on the other side. He smiled when he saw me.

“Hey Y/N/N, how’s it goin’?” He sniffed sleepily and plodded straight in with his guitar in hand, raising an eyebrow at my bare legs. “Oh, I see. Go get it girl!” I snorted and rolled my eyes at him.

He plonked himself down on the bed with a little sigh. “So where is he?”

I dropped down next him and reached for a half-full bottle of wine by his feet. “Literally just left for work, mate.” I had a quick glug before offering it over to him.

“Ah, that sucks.” He muttered, sipping thoughtfully. “Wanted to practise.”

“Well, I’m not great on rhythm guitar, but I do play a mean set of spoons.”

He sniggered and scratched his forehead, having another little sip before giving back the bottle and standing. “You wanna go cop then?”

I grinned up at him and stretched lazily. “You read my fuckin’ mind. Let me find my jeans.”

*****

I breathed deeply and took another long drag of my cigarette, settling my hand back on my stomach. I’d taken off my jeans and retreated back to the bed as soon as we returned, and now found myself drifting blissfully in and out of sleep. Slash was snoring lightly beside me with his legs spread out, dangling over the edge of the mattress.

The afternoon had passed in a slow rush and now the view through the window was dark, fuzzy shadows enveloping the room. I’d been meaning to switch the light on for hours. The bed was just too comfortable to move.

There was a knock at the door, and a weird sense of deja-vu washed over me. Slash grunted idly by my side. They knocked again. Impatient, I thought. I rolled over onto the floor and stood, staggering slightly when my balance wobbled. I ambled over and unlocked the door, leaning against it as I eased it open. Izzy appeared, looking over me with amusement.

“Had a good time?”

I smiled warmly and let my head drop against the doorframe. He chuckled.

“Can I come in, please?”

I hummed and moved backwards, dragging the door with me so he could walk past. He glanced over my shoulder and smirked.

“Shoulda guessed, huh?” I looked behind me and realised Slash was still in the bed, sat up now and jerking awake every couple of seconds. “You save any for me?”

“Some left by the bed, I think.” My voice was croaky, having hardly been used for an hour or two. The door was still wide open so I pushed it til it clicked shut and twisted the key in the lock again.

“Uh, I think we had that already Y/N/N.” Slash piped up finally.

Izzy hummed and stepped behind me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “I got news, by the way.”

I sighed and melted backwards into his chest. “What’s that then?”

“There’s a job goin’ at Andrea’s. Dish washing.”

“I could wash dishes.” I mumbled, eyes gently closing as his fingers grazed up and down my arm.

“You know, I was thinkin’ the same thing.” I could hear the smirk in his voice, the silly git.

“Andrea’s, where you work?”

“Yeah.” He said softly. “Figure that way I can at least try to keep you outta trouble.”

Slash laughed and I joined in, opening my eyes to make a face at him across the room.

“Fuck off.” I mumbled, smiling and starting to wake up. “I’ll go in tomorrow.”

“You wanna get ride with me?” I slipped away reluctantly to turn and face him.

“Yeah, please.” A new job, already. That was the first of my two problems sorted. Bless him, he’d probably been thinking along the same lines as me, about getting into a new place of my own quickly. I’d be out of his hair much sooner now that he’d lined up a job for me.

“I’ll try and keep this one.” I joked, smirking slightly.

Slash tittered again behind me. “Well, they haven’t fired Izzy yet. That’s gotta count for somethin’.”

Izzy rolled his eyes playfully and stalked past me. “I said I’d go meet Duff and Axl. You jerk-offs comin’ or are you just gonna stay here sleepin’ in my bed?”

“Hey!” Slash made a noise of indignation, “Somebody had to keep her company!”

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (10)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

Warning(s): angst, emotional and mental turmoil... the good stuff

Chapter Summary: The team deals with the aftermath of a surprise attack, a new friendship blossoms, and Steve is faced with... lady things.

“I’m fine,” she says again, shoving Bruce’s hands away. Her voice is rough and gravelly. She turns to look at Steve. “Where is he?”

“Don’t worry about him,” Bruce grumbles before Steve can respond. “Worry about yourself.” He moves aside the hospital gown that they made her put on – how humiliating – to attach another electrode.

“Stop it,” she protests, making a move to pull the sticky disc off of her chest. He simply slaps her hand away like she’s a small, crabby child. “I don’t need this.”

“Tessa,” Steve argues weakly from the corner of the med room. “Just… let him do what he needs to.”

“He doesn’t need to –”

“Stop being such an idiot!” Bruce shouts at her. His eyes are fiery as he looks down at her, his face scrunched up in anger. Steve moves forward and lays a calming hand on the man’s shoulder, and he takes that as a cue to pull in a deep breath and shake out some of the nerves. “You’re a doctor,” he says after a moment, his voice more relaxed. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“I don’t think she ever lost consciousness,” Steve says as he takes a seat at the foot of her bed.

“I didn’t.”

“That’s good.” He flashes a pen light in her eyes, first the right, then the left, and he actually has to use his hand to hold her head in place, she’s so adamant about turning away. “Petechiae,” he says, dropping the light and taking a step back.

Tessa closes her eyes and leans back into the pillows. She feels Steve shift down by her feet. “What does that mean?” he asks.

“The strangulation caused blood vessels to pop in and around her eyes.”

“Please don’t call it that,” she says in a small voice, still holding her eyes shut.

“I want to get a CT to assess the level of damage.”

“You think it’s bad?” Steve asks, a slight tremble to his voice.

“It’s hard to know how bad an injury like this really is. There could be soft tissue damage, vascular damage. Her airway could swell and completely close up. She could have a stroke, suffer a life-threatening arrhythmia.”

Tessa’s eyes shoot open and she sits up quickly. “Jesus,” she squeaks out. “You’re gonna scare the shit out of him.”

Bruce looks down at her and casually pushes his glasses back up from the bridge of his nose. “Good.” He turns to Steve. “Don’t let her leave. I’m going to go set up the CT,” he says before heading out of the exam room.

Steve drops his face into his hands, slowly shaking his head back and forth. “I knew this would happen,” he mumbles through his open fingers.

“Shut up,” she says, her voice sounding even more hoarse. “You did not.”

He sits up straight and looks her in the eye. “He had a nightmare the other night, a bad one. I couldn’t wake him up. He came at me and I had to tackle him to the ground.”

She stares at him for a long moment, quietly assessing the sad, guilty look on his face. “How…” she starts, shaking her head in bewilderment. “How could you not tell me that?”

“He didn’t want me to. He didn’t want you to know.” He sidles closer to her, and slowly slides his hand over hers. “He talked to his doctor about it. He said he would at least.” He casts his gaze down and wraps his fingers around her hand. “I’m so sorry, Tess. I’m so, so sorry.”

She doesn’t pull away, which he’s actually surprised about. But when he looks up, he can see that she’s silently seething. There are tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, which, now that he sees them in the light, are clearly bright red and bloodshot. He squeezes her hand tighter and she locks eyes with him.

“Where is he?” she asks again.

“Down the hall.”

“Is he okay?” she asks, her voice breaking on the last word.

Steve gives a lazy shrug. “I doubt it.”

Her gaze is fierce as she says again, this time through gritted teeth, “Is he okay?”

Steve rocks back, releasing his hold on her fingers and bringing both of his hands up to scrub at his face. “I was watching this old movie when Friday interrupted and said that I needed to go to your apartment. She said that Bucky was having an episode. I thought I’d find him pacing and yelling in Russian like the other night. Or maybe, I don’t know, tossing and turning and screaming in his sleep like he did when he first got here.” He looks up at her and gives a small, sad smile. “I didn’t think…”

“He was tossing and turning,” she says. “That’s what woke me up. He didn’t make a sound, though.” She tries to clear her throat and immediately winces.

“Do you need some water?” he asks, jumping up. “Can you have water?”

She waves her hand dismissively and swallows hard. “I said his name and touched his shoulder, that’s all. I could feel it, though,” she says quietly. “I could feel the bad energy… it was everywhere. I don’t know…” She shakes her head and tightly closes her eyes. “I should’ve done something then, when I felt it. But he just… sprung up… so fast. And then…” The tears begin to leak out of her still shut eyes and he quickly moves to her side and gathers her in his arms. “I’m sorry,” she cries into his shoulder.

He rubs soft circles into her back as he shushes her. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No,” she says, barely even a whisper. “I didn’t do anything at all.”

He pulls away and holds her at arm’s length, moves one hand up to tuck some hair behind her ear. “None of this is your fault,” he tells her, his own eyes now red rimmed as well.

“You don’t understand.” She scrubs the tears from her cheeks with a harsh, almost violent motion. “I told him he was safe with me. I told him I’d never let anything like this happen. And instead I… I froze.”

“You were attacked in your own bed, Tess, in the middle of the night, half asleep” he replies incredulously. “Of course you froze.”

She shakes her head. “No. I might not have been totally with it, but I was awake. And I could’ve done… something.”

He gazes at her for a long moment. “We can’t be expected to be superheroes every minute of the day. Sometimes we’re just people. We act and react like people.” She nods and drops her head heavily onto his shoulder. “Just… don’t talk anymore, okay? Don’t take this wrong way, but the sound of your voice right now makes me want to cry.”

“What’s the right way to take that?” she ekes out.

He simply cringes and wraps his arms around her once again.

000

It actually doesn’t take much convincing to get her to stay on the med floor overnight. For one thing, by the time they get the CT results, it’s already almost two in the morning and all she wants to do is sleep, no matter where it may be. For another thing, Steve – who only left her side long enough to check on Bucky and make sure he was doing all right – parked it in a chair conveniently placed between her and the door and gave her a go ahead and try it look.

He wouldn’t tell her what Bucky said or where he was or why he wasn’t there with her. He only said, “He’s upset. He needs a little time.” And then he shushed her once more and ordered her to get some sleep.

Bruce had been coming in to check on her every hour on the hour, but when she’s woken by the steady stream of sunlight beating through the window late the next morning, neither he nor Steve are anywhere to be found. Instead Wanda is seated next to her, silently reading, of all things, The Grapes of Wrath. “What are you doing?” Tessa asks her, her voice grating. She cringes at the sound, as well as the physical pain that comes from croaking the words out.

Wanda startles in her seat and looks up sheepishly. “I thought… I wanted to…”

Tessa shakes her head and leans back into the pillows, shutting her eyes against the harshness of the sunlight. “I meant, why are you reading that?”

“Oh.” She drops her gaze to the book in her hands. “Clint told me I should learn some American history. It’s quite sad.” She looks up and sees that Tessa is now turned toward her, regarding her with a rather severe look on her face. “I was worried when they told me what happened.”

Tessa wrinkles her brow. “You were worried about the Great Depression?”

She laughs. “I was worried about you.”

The doctor doesn’t answer, but her expression does soften as she takes in the timid-looking young woman before her. The two were slowly building a sort of bond. They had met up several times in the past couple of weeks for what they simply called sessions. The meetings – at first awkward and filled with a fundamental distrust from both sides – began at the behest of Steve, who decided that the best way to really get a handle on what Wanda could do would be to have someone with a similar skillset evaluate her.

In the beginning, it was mostly just the two of them sharing small details about their powers – how they manifested and in what ways. But it quickly grew into full-on demonstrations of their abilities. Much to everyone’s surprise, instead of turning into a sort of superhero pissing contest, their sessions turned into workshops where they were able – and willing – to learn from one another.

As one of Strucker’s only successful experiments, Wanda had received a lot of training. But Tessa was able to open her eyes to new and different ways to use her gifts, as well as different ways to think about them. Her powers didn’t have to be weaponry. They didn’t simply supply ammunition for a fight. They could also provide comfort for others and be used to aid people who are in need. She could calm someone’s mind just as easily as she could corrupt it, and that simply wasn’t something that Strucker had ever allowed her to realize.

And there were things that the younger woman was able to show the doctor too. Tessa, for all of her raw power, had never been able to actually delve into someone’s mind. She could sense their energy, but reading thoughts or seeing memories or even just empathizing on a deep level, those were things she’d always left to other mutants and never even thought about trying herself. But with Wanda’s help, she was starting to see that there may actually be some new tricks she could learn as well.

Perhaps the main reason that the two women were able to get past their initial distrust (and, frankly, distaste) for each other was that they realized they shared something utterly unique. It wasn’t just their ability to manipulate energy, but their ability to understand it. In addition to giving her these strange powers, Strucker’s experiments also enabled Wanda to see the world differently. It was almost like going from a black and white realm into a technicolor dream. Actually, no, it was like going from pure darkness into light. It was wonderful and beautiful and overwhelming and terrifying. And no one else could see it. Except, she now knew, Tessa.

“Don’t say you’re fine,” she says now, looking at Tessa’s tired face, her bloodshot eyes. She glances down at the deep purple bruises that encompass almost the entire right side of her neck, four jagged lines, each one caused by a finger on the hand of the man she loves. “I know you’re not,” she lets out slowly.

“Neither are you,” she points out with a raised eyebrow. Each can sense the tense energy in the air. Each can sense that the other is working to hide pain, fear, regret. There’s really no sense in either of them trying to conceal something from the other. “What is it?” Tessa asks, knowing the girl is more than just worried about her.

Wanda shrugs before bringing a finger up to her eye to delicately wipe away a tear. “Steve said that James had been having nightmares since I… messed with his mind.”

Tessa shakes her head adamantly. “He’s always had nightmares. It’s Hydra. Not you.”

“Steve said that too,” she replies with a small smile. “But he said things have been different… since then.” She pauses and looks up and into Tessa’s eyes. “He asked me to… go into his head.”

“No,” she interrupts, her gravelly voice strong and stern.

“I would never do it without James’ permission,” she sputters out quickly. “Or yours.”

“He’s had enough people in his head over the years. He doesn’t need another.”

“I only want to help,” Wanda tries, looking down at her hands.

“I know. But… we’ll work through this. It’ll be fine.”

Wanda smiles and lets out the smallest of laughs. “You know, I don’t actually sense any uncertainty when you say that.”

“That’s because there isn’t any. Not really.”

“There is some fear, though.”

She looks around the room and over to the monitor that she’s hooked up to. Her heart rate is normal, pulse ox at 98. It hurts to speak and swallow, but she isn’t having any trouble breathing. “I need to talk to him.”

“Bruce said you shouldn’t be talking at all. It’ll upset your vocal cords, and they need time to heal.”

“Yeah,” she breathes out, knowing it’s true, but not really caring. “Can you find me some clothes?”

“Um…”

“What time is it?”

Wanda opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Steve as he saunters into the room. “It’s after 11. And I have clothes for you.” He drops a folded-up pair of jeans and a sweatshirt onto her bed. “But,” he starts, raising his eyebrows at her, “You’re only allowed to leave if you agree not to speak for the next 24 to 48 hours, not to eat any solid foods, and not to leave Nat’s apartment – where you’ll be staying – other than to come down here for any necessary treatment.”

She looks at him incredulously for a long moment before saying, in a nearly inaudible squeak, “That’s bullshit!”

He throws down a tablet that has a stylus attached and gives her a go on look as he smiles and folds his arms across his chest. She picks it up and sees that it’s open to a translator program. She hurriedly scribbles onto the pad as a light, feminine voice sounds from it in a British accent, “Total fucking bullshit.”

The smile drops from Steve’s face. “Nice,” he tells her.

“It does sound less crass with that accent, though,” Wanda snickers from his left.

Steve ignores her giggles, and Tessa’s triumphant smile, and instead says, as though he’s issuing orders to the troops, “Two days – no talking, nothing but liquids, no work.” She frowns deeply. “Get dressed,” he says as he turns to leave.

“Wait,” she ekes out, causing him to turn on her with an admonishing frown. She rolls her eyes and writes something down quickly, and stares at him as the tablet reads, “Where’s James? I want to see him.”

Steve nods patiently. “I know you do. But he’s still pretty upset.”

“So am I,” she says, earning her another reprimanding glare.

He sighs deeply, picks up the clothes and drops them in her lap. “Get dressed and Wanda will take you up to Natasha’s. Get settled in. Drink some hot tea.” She rolls her eyes so dramatically he has to stifle a laugh. “I’ll get him to come down. Just… be patient.”

“Hey,” she croaks as he moves to leave. He spins on her and points to the pad almost angrily. “Where’s my underwear?” the tablet asks him in its soft voice.

“I couldn’t go through your… things,” he says, taken aback by her question.

She scribbles something down again and holds the tablet up as it says, “You saw me naked last night. You can’t bring me a bra and panties this morning?”

Wanda holds her fist to her mouth to try and stifle her laughter. Steve just turns a bright shade of red as he says, “You had a sheet around you. I didn’t… I didn’t see anything.” Both women nod placatingly at him, and he quickly turns to leave.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

13 Keys to the White House: 2024

Historian Allan Lichtman has produced an astonishingly accurate system for predicting presidential elections; although first implemented in 1984, going backwards it correctly accounts for every election since 1860, with the only hiccup coming from the hotly contested 2000 election. He predicted Gore would win, and he wasn’t entirely wrong, there was just some brotherly nepotism and Supreme Court fuckery. Anyway, his system posits 13 yes or no scenarios about the state of the union; if at least 8 are true then the incumbent party wins another term, less than 8 and the challenging party wins. Simple.

It’s pretty early in Biden’s term to tell for sure, but we can make some soft predictions that we can refine over the next few years before solidifying in 2023 or 2024.

Midterm gains: after the midterms, the incumbent party holds more seats in the House than they did in the previous midterms. Almost certainly false. 2022 will see new districts drawn by the predominantly Republican statehouses, giving them an immediate advantage. Democrats have a razor thin majority as is, it’s never been this close to tied before, I can’t see them holding on when you take into account new census data and partisan gerrymandering.

No primary contest: is there no serious contest for the incumbent party nomination. Almost certainly true. Like him or hate him, Democrats are stuck with Biden. There hasn’t been a serious primary challenge in either major party since Reagan tried to take on Ford in 1976.

Incumbent seeking re-election: the incumbent candidate is the president. Again almost certainly true. There was an unspoken agreement that Biden would only run for one term, considering the fact that he’ll be 82 at the end of it, but o think he thinks he’s in for the long run now. If he does in office, Harris will become president and run for re-election herself, so the only way this would flip false would be if Biden just decides not to run again. In that case, the #2 might also flip false because I could see a weak senator like Joe Manchin running against Harris to get out of his own impending failure in West Virginia.

No third-party: no significant third party challenger. Too soon to tell, though I’m leaning towards true. The last nationally successful third party candidate was Ross Perot in 1992 and 1996. He didn’t win any states, but he split some states nearly in thirds; Clinton and Bush and Dole all won states with less than 50% of he vote because Perot split the ticket. In 2000 Ralph Nader lost New Hampshire for Al Gore, giving it and the presidency to George W. Bush, and the same thing happened with Jill Stein in 2016 in the Midwest. Spoilers don’t need to be major on the National scale to have significant effects in specific states. Lichtman only flips this one false when a third party candidate wins 10% of the vote, so I’m going with true.

Short-term economy: the economy is not in recession. Probably true, but still too early to tell. We are either in the middle or nearing the end of a covid recession, I can’t see it lasting three more years without recovering at least a little, especially with the $2 trillion stimulus package they just passed. The economy is random, but if you look at a plot of unemployment since the Great Depression you will see that it consistently trends up under Republicans and trends down under Democrats. Trump was the only president is recent history to actually destroy more jobs than he created, so Biden could. It have inherited an easier path to victory. He shouldn’t be able to fuck up when the bar is so low, but I’m not holding out hope.

Long-term economy: real pet capita growth equals or exceeds mean growth during the previous two terms. Probably true, too soon to be sure. We’re so deep in the hole after Trump that any even remotely upwards tick will count as growth. I can’t see us dipping deeper than 2020 anytime soon, but then again that’s what they said in 2008, so who even knows?

Major policy change: the incumbent administration effects major change in national policy. False, I can call it now with utmost confidence. With Manchin and Sinema protecting the filibuster, Biden will get absolutely nothing substantive done in his first two years. He’ll end up losing one or both houses in the midterms, accomplishing even less in his next two! If he loses the Senate, it’s all over. It’ll be 2016 2.0, no more appointments, no more nominees, complete and utter obstruction until the Republicans take back he presidency and fill all the vacancies themselves.

No social unrest: no sustained social unrest during the term. Too soon to tell, but maybe true. 2020 was an anomaly, a once in a generation thing like 1968, so many crises all compounded together; the pandemic, the George Floyd protests, the wild fires, the hurricanes, utter chaos. I don’t see 2024 being as bad, but don’t quote me on that.

No scandal: incumbent administration is not tainted by scandal. Who knows?!? Biden seems pretty white bread/plain vanilla/mayonnaise, but Republicans insist he’s the most corrupt politician since their own guys (Trump and Nixon; lowering the bar for all their successors). They milked Benghazi for years and found nothing, but still tanked Clinton’s integrity going forward, I’m sure they’ll try to milk whatever BS They can find on Hunter Biden, especially if they retake the House or Senate. Whether any accusations will stick is up in the air, but I could see Republicans impeaching Biden just because they can.

No foreign/military failure: incumbent administration suffers no major failure in foreign/military affairs. Who knows? Biden’s foreign policy isn’t significantly different than Trump’s, so there’s no telling what could go wrong. The Saudis will keep cutting people’s heads off, North Korea will never disarm itself, Iran will probably arm itself, Afghanistan will drag on forever, and I can smell war brewing in the Caucasus, Venezuela, and Bolivia. The future is as clear as milk.

Foreign policy/military success: incumbent administration achieves major success in foreign/military affairs. Probably not, but too soon to tell. Succeeding is very different from not failing, so 10 and 11 aren’t necessarily linked. You can not fail AND not succeed, they’re not mutually exclusive. I don’t see anything good happening overseas for a very long time. If we pull out of Afghanistan, the power vacuum will pave the way for ISIS 2.0, so our hands are tied there. Our best bet would be to renegotiate a nuclear deal with Iran, but then we’ll just be back to status quo anteTrumpum, zero sum gain.

Charismatic incumbent: the incumbent party nominee is charismatic or a national hero. False, false, a million times false. Biden isn’t even beloved by his entire party, let alone the country; Republicans hate him even more than they ought to just because he wears a blue tie instead of a red one (his policies are so middle-of-the-road inoffensive to them that they shouldn’t have a problem with him, but Trump told them to, so they do). If Biden dies or refuses to run, Harris is even more divisive because she’s a woman and a disingenuous liar (she pretends to be super progressive, but she’s a cop, a Clintonesque moderate through and through). Obama in 2008 was a breath of fresh air which got very stale by 2012; 2008 was lightning in a bottle, and neither Biden nor Harris could ever dream of catching it again. They’re nowhere near as nationally beloved as the Roosevelts or Kennedy or Reagan.

Uncharismatic challenger: the challenging party candidate is not charismatic or a national hero. True, true, a million times true. It will almost certainly be Trump again in 2024, and he is even more despised than Biden. Sure, he’s beloved by his own party, but they make up less than half of he country. He never had majority approval and lost the popular vote twice, he’s a loser! If by some miracle he chooses not to run, the Republicans will be running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to appoint a successor. They’ll want one of his kids to run, maybe even his daughter in law who is looking to run for senate in 2022, but they’re tainted by affiliation to the Gonad Lump himself; they’re all the same. Ted Cruz sucks ass, Ron DeSantis might actually have an intellectual disability so I feel bad making fun of that piece of shit bastard, I pray that Rick Scott and Josh Hawley and Matt Gaetz suffer debilitating brain aneurysms on live TV, Nikki Haley is a nobody, and Lauren Boebert and Majorie Taylor Green are too regional to have national appeal (though Green will probably run against Raphael Warnock in 2022, so she will almost certainly be a senator by 2024). There are no nationally beloved politicians on either side of the aisle, so I would expect Republicans to cheat like they tried in 2020 to stop black people in swing states from voting.

So, the tally stands thus:

3 are certainly true

4 are probably true, leaning uncertain

2 are uncertain

1 is probably false, leaning uncertain

3 are certainly false

Democrats need 8 true to win, Republicans need 6 false to win. Right now, Biden had a slight edge because it is historically difficult to defeat an incumbent, Trump just sucked. I don’t see a rematch being significantly different, I suspect Biden would still win the popular vote, but Trump could eke by with the electoral college like he did in 2016, especially now that Republicans are taking over the judiciary in Pennsylvania (they’re changing the rules so that judges are elected in gerrymandered districts instead of statewide races). You saw how hard Republicans fought in 2020, they’re not going to change tactics in 2024, they’re gonna double down and try even harder next time. Fewer polling places, fewer drop boxes, shorter early voting, shorter hours, more stringent ID laws. Their MO is systemic voter suppression because their rhetoric has become too toxic to win on a national level. The majority of Americans vote against them in almost every election, general and midterm, but they continue to rule in the minority.

Something has got to give, this can’t go on forever, eventually the situation is going to boil over, be it in a civil war or a constitutional convention to overhaul the entire country; neither are probable, and either outcome would almost certainly hurt people of color in predominantly conservative states.

Biden thought he would be an arbiter president, he thought he would be able to unite the country, heal the divide, being both sides together under mutual compromise, but he failed to understand that Republicans hate him on principal. Doesn’t matter how much he tries to appease them, they still hate him because they have to hate him, even if they agree with him. It would be political suicide for any of them to side with Biden on anything, Trump has already vowed to support primary challengers, his presidency was the final nail in the coffin of bipartisanship. Bipartisanship is dead, it hasn’t been alive in decades, and the only people who call for it are the minority party.

Trump is hard liquor, unappealing to anyone but his alcoholic voters; Biden is diet ginger ale, inoffensive and boring, nobody really wanted him, he only ran to try and settle everyone’s stomachs, and he hasn’t been very successful yet. He honestly believed he would be a neutral alternative for the alcoholics; that level of optimism would be adorable if it weren’t so pathetic. It’s gonna take a lot more than 12 steps to break the country’s addiction.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Vænn (Ivar’s PoV)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Vænn: beautiful, hopeful, promising (Old Norse)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: Another attempt at writing snippets of Ivar’s PoV of νοσταλγία, this time this relates to chapters 11-12 of the main story, approximately.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: The usual

A/N:Today I was supposed to upload Sieghild’s PoV, and Ivar’s was supposed to be on December 1st but hey, I got it done beforehand so here you go.

I’ve been absolutely hating my writing lately, so I am really sorry if this sucks, I don’t know what else to say other than that. Hopefully it isn’t as bad as my worse thoughts make me believe lol, thank you for reading.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​​ @heavenly1927​​ @toe-vind-ek-jou​​ @xbellaxcarolinax​​ @pieces-by-me​​ @angelofthorr​​

You smile more freely now, he notices. Like you don’t resent the smiles that curve your lips, like you’ve started to realize he isn’t chaining you.

He watches you study a plum you’ve only taken one small and delicate bite off of, as you muse to yourself and, apparently, to him,

“Back home they made wines with these. With many things, actually. Dandelions, cherries,” Your words die with a small chuckle that shakes your shoulders, and you pause to take another small bite of the fruit. “My favorite is roses.”

Ivar only hums a response, because he doesn’t exactly know what to say to that. He was never the best at…talking, at this apparently easy familiarity; and while lately you do seem to be willing and able to strike a conversation about anything and nothing, Ivar will admit he doesn’t know how to deal with that, so he mostly chooses to stay silent and listen to you talk.

Which you do. A lot. He has a feeling you think you talk and share a lot less than you actually do.

But you give a lot away. He may not be good at talking and charming like Hvitserk or Sigurd, or approachable and easy to confide in like Ubbe; but he is good at watching people.

He watches you, and notices you flinch when a fire is breathed too much life, takes note of the way your eyes soften when he says your name, and is delighted to see your smile is colder when it is directed at someone that isn’t him.

And you also talk a lot. Which he doesn’t mind, the Gods know he doesn’t mind. The sound of your voice seems to be perpetually stuck in his head, and although the arrogant and insufferable little tone you get when you think you are right is infuriating, it is much preferable to when he didn’t know the sound of your voice at all, or the little drag of your accent when you speak his language, or the fluidity of when you speak in yours.

“Oh, and pomegranate wine!” You continue, licking a drop of juice from the side of your wrist up, and his eyes follow the movement. You lift big eyes to him as if you don’t realize how much he wants to trap that small wrist in his own hand and lick any offending drops himself. “You don’t have pomegranates here, do you?”

“Would you want some?”

But you shake your head almost immediately, “No, no, I can’t eat them. It’s…the fruit of the temptation, Hiereiai cannot eat the seeds of it.”

He remembers almost all your tales of the Gods you worship, and the six pomegranate seeds that made a Goddess remain in another realm for half eternity has always stayed with him. Maybe because of how it is one of the tales you don’t think much about before speaking of it, you don’t pick and choose at what to say when you speak of her.

And Ivar wonders to himself, if six seeds of this fruit could make a Goddess be bound to that Underworld; what they could do to a mortal woman, a woman that, like the Goddess you speak of, isn’t allowed to eat them.

The errant thought of telling his brother to arrange for some merchant to find him pomegranates stays for a few moments too long on his head.

Because he wasn’t lying, before, when he told you that he could give you anything you wanted. He would, even if admitting it is giving away control, and even worse, giving it to you, power for you to hold over him; he would.

It doesn’t matter, he supposes. You’ll be his wife soon, he’ll have as much power over you as you have over him.

It will be even, then. You will be equals. That has to be what you wanted, even if you still refuse to accept the idea of marrying him.

You didn’t leave him any choice, after all. If he was the one with power, you’d be cold and look at him with hate in your eyes; but Ivar knows if he let you have power without keeping some for himself, you’d run back to your burnt city, you’d leave him.

Ivar knows sooner or later you’ll come to accept it. He knows it, and he knows you should want at least the title of queen if not that of wife. Because even if he didn’t know who you were, if he chose to ignore it like he did in those first days in the run-down village near Dublin, he would know you were made to rule, to command. It’s written in the way you walk, in the way you talk and hold your head high, in that insufferable arrogance, in that stubbornness.

____

There’s something strange about you when you say your goodnight after the announcement of your marriage is brought up before his brothers, but Ivar decides not to dwell on it. And, as he leaves the dim room where he introduced you to his older brother and announced you are to be his wife, he sees Ubbe waiting by a wall, arms crossed over his chest as he stares Ivar down.

“She’s beautiful,” Ubbe comments as he steps away from the wall, “Doesn’t mean she will make a good wife.”

“I’m not marrying her because of beauty, brother.”

He’s marrying you because he has to keep you with him, because he knows now just as he knew when he first saw you in that field, that you were sent by the Gods, by Freyja, to be at his side. The Gods called you to cross many seas, to travel across half a world, and he knows it was because you and him are Fated to meet, to know each other.

And he knows that slave was right, when she spoke of how it all leads to pain and suffering and so it is a proof of the Gods’ favor when people are chosen to suffer. She said those who endure are rewarded, he still remembers her quiet voice uttering the words, but he hadn’t believed her, not at first.

But now, and ever since he first saw that mirage in the red dress with gentle caresses and loving words turn around with a war cry and the fierceness of a Valkyrie, he knows that slave was right, and the Gods do reward those who endure. And one way or another, for a purpose he wishes he knew but doesn’t yet, you were sent to him as the Gods’ gift for enduring a life of pain and suffering; he knows this.

“What are you marrying her for then, Ivar?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because-…brother, you could do this the…the normal way. Find a woman you care for, a woman that wants to be your wife, not some captured witch that fears you.”

He wanted to interrupt him, tell him he has never had a chance to do things the normal way, because while Ubbe may try to tell him he is just like his brothers, he isn’t. And Ragnar was right, he had to accept that he isn’t a normal man, and that means he can’t do things the normal way, like normal men do.

Instead of bringing up a conversation that will make his brother look at him with that pathetic compassion, that brotherly pity, in his eyes; he clarifies,

“She doesn’t fear me. She fears you.”

The other man doesn’t relent, and when Ubbe steps forward, trying to make him understand, “And why do you think that is? I see what she’s trying to do, I see clearly. She’s bewitched you!”

He rolls his eyes with an exaggerated movement of his head, and meets the eyes of his older brother with what is sure to be the deadpan tiredness of hearing so many times about women being able to bewitch the men in his family.

The only woman he has seen use her cunt or her lips to actually gain power is Margrethe, but no, no one thinks she might have bewitched any of his useless brothers. Or cursed him, Ivar has toyed with that idea many times since that damn night when he tried fucking her.

But it is stupid to think a woman would bewitch his father, or him. He may be a cripple, but he’s not an idiot; he would know if you were trying to fool him, if you were trying to play with his head. He thought you were, at first, before he knew you and your mouth that betrays your truths before you can stop it, and your eyes that give away every softness and every fury.

He knows he would have been able to tell if you tried tricking him.

Mainly because you wouldn’t be this infuriating brat if you actually tried getting something you wanted from him, he gathers.

Ubbe just looks at him with the pressed lips and disappointed eyes of a brother that tries acting like a father, before turning his back and walking away.

____

Your surprise him by appearing in his rooms, but before he can fully form a question as to why you are here, you reach up with shaking hands to your shoulders

Your dress drops to the floor and you stand before him, bare and beautiful and his, his to admire, to touch, to…

But you talk, because you talk a lot, you talk a lot more than you realize. And you speak of how you’re willing to offer your body to him if only to avoid becoming his wife, of how he doesn’t have to do this.

And it is once again like sitting in front of a slave that trembles before him, that kisses him at his brother’s request, that barely masks her disgust when she is forced to touch him.

“Get dressed.”

You cover yourself, and soften your voice but not the way he wants you to. Because now you sound scared, helpless, desperate. And you plead for a way to avoid becoming his wife, for an easy path to escape him.

And he wants to punish you, he wants to make you regret ever thinking you can toy with him, he wants…he wants to make you admit it. He wants to make you shed that…that softness of yours, he wants to…

He doesn’t know what he wants.

He thinks a part of him actually wants you to hurt him, to be cruel. To just…prove him right, prove to him that he can’t have that warm familiarity of having you share your day with him, that fascinating enjoyment of being taught your tongue, those smiles that he earns more and more easily as time goes by.

A part of him wants you to prove him right, and to be cruel and a lie. A chimera, a vision, like he thought you were when he first saw you on that battlefield.

It would certainly make things easier, if he could let go of the childish and pathetic hope of having something normal, like a wife that does not despise him, a woman that actually wants him.

But things aren’t easy, so he just spews venom and barely-hidden insecurities in the form of accusations, and prays your own arrogance and your own temper keeps you from seeing how with nothing but you, you can have him at your mercy.

____

So yeah, there you go. I know it’s not much, only 2k, but I struggle a lot when writing Ivar’s PoV. I sincerely hope you didn’t hate it, thank you for reading and I’m sorry if it sucks.

Best of wishes! <3 <3

[kshitij1997]

As promised, the second chapter is up now!

All frozen characters belong to Disney, all I own is this head-cannon and the original characters.

A warning for playing fast and loose with some history, please don't lynch me _/\_.

With that out of the way, on with the story :D

Chapter 2 – The order of an Arendelle past and present

The Kulning had begun as a practice in ancient Arendelle as a way for shepherdesses and cowgirls to call their sheep and cattle after a long day of grazing the plains. With the passage of time however, it was recognized by the native people how effective the Kulning could be as a way of communication in the northern plains. A woman skilled in Kulning could transmit messages across the country, ranging from glad tidings to blood feuds and war cries. This peculiar quality of the mode of expression in question came to define the social culture of the nation, with the Kulning heralds serving as beacons to bring in a good harvest or a call for aid. There was once a moment in the middle ages when the heralds managed to alert the entire country towards a devastating plague which undoubtedly helped save many lives and livelihoods.

The plague arrived despite all preparations and ravaged the country. Nevertheless, the position of the heralds was solidified into the Arendellian culture as guardians of the nation. A herald was protected by law, and the practice took on a sacrosanct and spiritual meaning as the knowledge of interpretation was only passed within the direct family of the herald. Popularised as 'the voice of the nation' during the renaissance, the Kulning became a power statement in the country, the voice that united the northern mountains and plains to the southern rivers and coasts.

For all the similarities in people that the Kulning celebrated, it couldn't account for how differently the north and the south were blessed and cursed in equal measure. The north had far more resources, even if the southern societies were far more developed. And while southern Arendelle regularly courted wealth makers, intellectuals and scholars in its high society, it had the extremely unfortunate vulnerability of having one of the very few warm water ports in all northern Europe. A reality that left it open to regular attempts at usurpation and war. Furthermore, by making southern Arendelle a major education centre in Europe, the south often found itself facing revolutionary ideas and fringe groups. Adding the general apathy of the north, who disapproved of the high class living southern society, completely removed from nature, the people-nations drifted further apart, such that even the voice could not unite them.

Tensions notwithstanding, there still existed a grudging peace and cordial relations between the north and the south, a reality which came crashing down in the seventeenth century with the horrific thirty years war. A war Arendelle wanted no part in but was coerced into joining due to union of marriage between the crown of Arendelle and the Habsburgs, in an uncharacteristic move for both royal families, as there was no common relative between them. If history were a reliable witness, it would dictate the defeat and destruction of both the royal families in northern Europe. While the Habsburgs would never gain a foothold in Arendelle again, the crown survived by the skin of its teeth. The crown paid a heavy price for the privilege however, namely the death of one of the greatest kings of northern Europe, Gustavus Vasa, who had almost singlehandedly saved the country from the jaws of the Holy Roman Empire. While the south was more forgiving to wartime obligations, the north was absolutely horrified at the taboo implications the Habsburgs brought to the crown and refused to support the war effort. It was a miracle that the Arendellians managed to eke out a win in the Baltic despite abandoning the Habsburgs. Nevertheless, even as Arendelle enjoyed a new boost of power, the Habsburg bloodline further cracked the bonds between the south and the north, which had started calling itself Northurldra. While the regional name was recognized, never had the sparsely populated north had openly used it in defiance. Throughout all this, the voice persisted, dutifully sending messages back and forth, bringing the news of the audacity of the north to the south. This further grew the enmity between the two regions as the age of empires dawned in Europe. While the south used its famous resourcefulness and ship routes around the world to build the empire, the Northurldra stuck to its beliefs of frugal living, and fell behind as a result.

In an attempt to find direction in the brave new world, they turned to an institution called the fifth spirit. While the figure was a vestige of ancient times and had been dismissed as superstition by the south, the Northurldra maintained the customs and rituals of the fifth spirit, coronating said figure on the same basis one would crown kings, which further distanced the Northurldra from Arendelle and as a result, the Northurldra fell back even further.

While Arendelle made a few colonies in the Indian subcontinent, China and the East Indies(*Indonesia), the stagnant region in its own backyard had started to look embarrassing. To save face, the south started contacting the Northurldra, who saw how the wind was blowing and gracefully accepted the invitation to cooperate. Things looked up for Arendelle as Carolus Rex, the man who led the nation to innumerable victories against the Southern Isles and Russia. However, it was short lived as the King died in battle, breaking all cooperation between the two regions. The relations mostly stagnated after that, as Arendelle supported the French to defeat in the seven years war which further reduced the nation's standing in Europe.

The regions further drifted apart as the French took a step closer to the revolution, to which Arendelle responded by doing something they had never done before, something that would become a core strategy for the country to show defiance and protectionism. The country was closed to the mainland for over a decade, avoiding the cataclysmic war between the French and the rest of the continent. Many scholars, philosophers, merchants and businessmen fled to Arendelle during this period, whom Arendelle was all too pleased to accept despite the isolation, which further led to a divide between the Northurldra and Arendelle. The new immigrants didn't care much for the north and preferred to look to the west. As a result, the crown started dealing with the fledgling United States. The crown of Arendelle was the first to recognize the sovereignty of the new nation, so the United States more than welcomed Arendelle into its sphere. It was this Arendelle that was left to crown prince Runeard, who in the best Arendellian tradition, went against all of Europe and made a deal with the French directory and vowed to back Robespierre. However, Robespierre's head, bloodlust, propensity to roll heads and power grew quicker than what his fellow Jacobins would allow, so they used the national razor to make sure he didn't crumble under the strain. A far cry from a man who in his former career as a lawyer, held a well-known disdain for the death penalty.

Ah well, at least they left the general of the French army alive. The general with whom King Runeard had built a correspondence starting back in his days in France receiving military education. It was Napoleon, who took power in the ensuing vacuum of leadership after the directory was left toothless. Various deals were struck, the gates to the country were opened, the Corsican general made short work of the rest of the war. The era of Arendelle and France's rise to dominance in the continent had begun.

All this while the heralds worked tirelessly, communicating everything throughout the country, which held the nation together even as it drifted apart, owing to the adage: if the heralds fall silent, Arendelle would fall.

It was this era in which Runeard ascended onto the world stage and built the fearsome reputation of a tyrant, displaying in full color the Habsburg entitlement and madness that Europe feared. To this man, the death of his queen in childbirth was but a trivial price to pay in his quest of consolidation. If there was any genuine affection or joy left in him, it was due to his heir, Prince Agnarr.

The prince was lightly built but was a frequent unwilling host to various ailments and illness. King Runeard doted on the boy as a toddler, but as the prince came into the age of reason, he displayed wisdom far beyond his years, and knowledge well cultivated, for when illness confined him to his bed, he grew his passion for books on science and statecraft, and more importantly for stories and tales. It was this spirited lad who often questioned his father's murkier intentions:

"Is a dam really the best idea? That massive architecture could be a powder keg waiting to go off."

"You're about three-quarters of Europe away, son. For the true powder keg, you need to approach the Crimea or the Balkans." The king said with a bemused expression.

"Father, this is serious."

"Do you see me laughing?"

"No, what I mean to say is that the Northurldra are not very sympathetic to your cause, and a dam is giving them further impetus to oppose you. They can use it as a fortress, we can't."

"The military implications of the dam are the farthest thoughts of my mind, son. The northern backdrop is a source of indignity for me. The rest of the continent is experimenting with steam and coal, and those peasants are content with their medieval equipment? Never. If anything, I am doing them a service by integrating them and bringing them into the modern age with us."

"It still could be a problem, though." Agnarr mused

"Oh take a breather boy, or your hair would turn grey before mine does." The king laughed.

As much as the king enjoyed teasing the prince on his lack of mirth, he recognized the mind for politics that the kid had. It was this kid who advised him not to get involved in Spain as Napoleon proceeded to bring Iberia into a crisis of succession, this boy who started a friendly correspondence with the crown prince of the northern Germanic kingdom of Corona, which became an alliance that brought Arendelle the backing of Prussia and the Southern Isles(The characteristic Arendellian zeal and skill in making deals became a force to be reckoned with in the hands of the prince). A fact that put the father and son at odds frequently. These odds were mostly harmless and good-natured, with genuine concern behind them, but it all came to a head in the spring of 1812, when Napoleon was about to launch a physically, economically and emotionally devastating invasion into the Russian empire to bring Tsar Alexander the first to heel.

Added to this was the military expedition in the north, which didn't make things easier.

By then, the prince had overcome the ailments he had suffered earlier and had grown in stature. At the age of fourteen, he could almost see eye-to-eye with his father.

Almost.

Mid-March, southern Arendelle, 1812

"What do you mean you can't lead?!" the king bellowed "I didn't raise a coward!"

"I chose not to lead, not because I can't, but because these wars are a fool's errand." The prince answered calmly.

"I didn't ask you for your opinion." "You should have. Dear uncle Napoleon is screwing himself with this conflict."

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF HIM IN THIS MANNER?! HUH! I have known for over twenty-five years now, long before I ever met your mother. I am to just abandon him in his time of need?!"

"If you really cared, you would've stopped him. The Russians aren't to be fucked with." A rare poor choice of words for the crown prince.

"Where did you learn such beautiful language, huh?! From the girl you've been meeting?! Has SHE BEEN POSIONING YOUR MIND AGAINST ME?!" retorted the king after smacking Agnarr in the face for that comment.

"Who?" Asked Agnarr as he nursed his cheek. "Don't you DARE play coy with me. You thought I wouldn't find out?! Whatever childish games you play, that's your business. When the fairer gender gets involved, any fooling around that you do does become my damn business." The king answered in a voice dripping with disdain, venom and contempt.

"Her name is Iduna, and no, she has not influenced my decisions in any way whatsoever." The prince now rose from where he had fallen and continued "As for the other business you're insinuating, it's a pity I can't strike you back."

The king loomed dangerously close and growled "Try me."

For a moment it looked as if they had forgotten that they were father and son, rather two strangers who were spoiling for a brawl.

The prince relented and said "Father, why can't we talk like the well-educated people that we are? A mosh pit between us would be shameful. Let's discuss this calmly."

The king took a moment to breathe, stepped back and said "Very well, but I can't stand back this time like I did in Spain. I will rally my army with the French, for the sole reason that I can't let the Tsar have any more influence in Europe than he already has. As for the north, it's time they bowed down to the true authority in Arendelle."

"We should have pursued the peace talks further with the Northurldra, pa. We would have reached an accord."

"I know from experience that's not true. I did offer the NORTH the gift of the reservoir, at great personal cost of the empire. How do they show their gratitude? By nearly blowing up the blessed dam! How do I reach an accord with such animals?" The king said.

"Maybe they couldn't forget the valley of death." Agnarr suggested.

"It's a bloody shame they didn't remember the valley that well either, for they should have guessed that my kindness to them is a privilege they have, not my duty or moral law towards them." Replied the king "The expedition up north will happen, if the Northern people hold their lives and livelihoods dear, they would be wise to stand down without much destruction."

Agnarr sighed, the appeal of the cabinet of ministers to avoid a civil war was not coming to fruition. So he decided to cut his losses "While I can't endorse your decisions here, I can understand them."

The king cut in "Fortunately for me, I don't need anybody's endorsement."

"Please let me finish, pa" Agnarr pleaded " I know you can't step back on your obligation to aid the Emperor of France, and that you can't afford to lose face in the continent due to the Northurldra. I understand this is a time of giants. But hear me out on this. Due to my correspondence to the kingdom of the Southern Isles, Weselton and Corona, I cannot be seen opposing them. The delicate alliance that I have constructed with the crown princes there contradicts Uncle Napoleon's stance against the Russian empire. As you clearly know Corona has close ties with Russia, and the Southern Isles and Weselton have economic rivalries with France. If I accompany the French and make that political statement, I shall lose all the hard work and toil it has taken to establish bases of power across the continent."

There it was, that classic fatal flaw that held back the Arendellian skill at forging alliances everywhere; it was impossible to keep everyone happy. The king stayed silent, which emboldened Agnarr to drive home the point he was making "Furthermore, the Emperor is powerful, but not infallible. His Navy was utterly decimated seven years ago, who's to say that his armies can't?"

The King put two and two together, and spoke at length "So you're staying in Arendelle?"

"Yes, and promise me this."

"What?" "Promise me that you will offer the Northurldra peace terms if they surrender or cooperate."

"If they are reasonable, I will surely be open to peace."

With their tempers abated, father and son embraced, knowing that they wouldn't see each other for a long time.

"Let's make a toast" Said the king.

"Father, I'm not a man yet, so I can't consume alcohol." Agnarr grinned at the suggestion.

"You're plenty manly to me, son. You stood up to me like a man, with far more courage and gumption that those twits who run the empire, so you've earned a drink."

With that, the king made himself and his heir a drink and made a toast "To the lost."

"To the lost." Repeated Agnarr, and drank "OHH it burns!"

"Of course it does" laughed the king "It's aged, it's supposed to burn."

They both enjoyed a moment of silence, after which Agnarr asked "Why do you always toast to the lost?"

The king answered "It is never an unsuitable moment to pay our respects to those who were lost so that we may have this."

Agnarr smiled, for he rarely saw the king being this way.

"What was the name of the girl again, the one you met some time ago?" The king spoke suddenly.

"Iduna, she hails from the north. However, I don't know if she is Northurldrian." Agnarr replied.

"Hmm" acknowledged the king "Tell me more."

"She says she hails from a family of heralds, which is plausible, for she has a wonderful voice." Agnarr finished with a smile.

"If I wanted to admit something deep and personal, I would say that the kulning always brought me peace." The king revealed. Agnarr simply looked on. "All right, I would try to be fair to them."

"Thank you, pa. I really appreciate it. I would appreciate it more if I negotiate with them personally instead."

"Don't worry boy, I know how to handle them."

Christmas eve, 1812

The boy-king reminisced over the last complete conversation he had had with the late king Runeard before it had all crashed to pieces. The French campaign was a disaster, and the Arendellian contingent sent to aid the French was lost almost to a man. The fact that the Arendelle authority was not present with the Emperor severed any ties or pretensions Napoleon had about his allies.

Arendelle was left stranded in the continent, and Agnarr had to learn a lot in a very short time to retain and appease the understandably indignant mainland allies of Corona, Weselton, and the Southern Isles. November and December had been very difficult for the boy-king, he left no stone unturned; offering to pay reparations, giving up the colonies of the Indian subcontinent to the British east India company, giving the Dutch autonomy in the East Indies, et cetera. But the giants of Europe wanted what he couldn't give them; Runeard 's head.

They considered themselves merciful by settling for his disappearance. However, by giving away all that he could in the circumstances and making amends for his father, king Agnarr had won some trust and goodwill amongst his allies, who saw him as a man who could survive adversity, and his tireless endeavours to ensure that relief reached the families of the lost won him the respect and popularity of his people. As for the Northurldra, they had been rendered inaccessible by a thick mist which didn't let anyone in or out. There were rumours of a possible way to reach them, however it was through the dark sea, and the dark sea was not famous for being tranquil and friendly to voyages.

All that was in the recent past where the boy-king had ben pushed to his limits. He would have given up, if not for Iduna, soon to be the most important person in his life. She stuck with him through thick and thin, holding his hand and giving him support wherever she could. To express his gratitude, Agnarr attempted to rescue Iduna 's people by evacuating them, but it was all in vain.

"Your Majesty?" whispered Iduna after knocking on his door.

"Come in Iduna, and please call me Agnarr." Replied the tired king.

"Only a few minutes till Christmas" said Iduna as she made herself comfortable in his quarters.

"Hmm" mused the king. Then he began "Why don't you hate me? My father ruined everything for you, and I couldn't save your people after I promised." He paused to wipe the tears forming in his eyes.

He was stopped by Iduna, who wiped his eyes for him "After the year we all have had, I don't hold anyone to their promises. Everyone is fallible, no one is perfect. I appreciate the mere fact that you tried to rescue them from your father's wrath." Said Iduna, ignoring the lump forming in her own throat.

Agnarr sighed " This has been a rotten Christmas."

Iduna corrected him "The circumstances are rotten, but the festival shall always bring good cheer and hope. We're both alive, if that is not hope then what is?"

Agnarr smiled "What would I ever do without you?" "I'll always be with you" Iduna grinned. They looked at each other with the gaze of contentment and blossoming love for a while. Then Agnarr spoke

"Sing me a song."

"I sing to you every night."

"Something special for Christmas eve, please?"

"Alright, here's one that never fails."

Where the north wind meets the sea

There's a river full of memory

Rest my king, safe and sound

For in this river all is found

Iduna continued to sing but paused when the king had tears streaming down his face.

"It's your voice, it can reduce me to a baby in an instant." Agnarr smiled through his teary face.

"I'm used to it; I can never finish a song when you're listening." Iduna laughed.

The king wiped his face and remarked " One of these days, I'll make you my Queen, just you wait."

"Will they accept me?"

"They better, cause if they don't, they can go fuck themselves."

"Your Majesty!" said Iduna in mock alarm.

"I've been through every street in hell this year, whilst proving myself to Europe and my own people, I've earned the right to cuss like a sailor." Agnarr said with a haughty air.

"Cuss away then." Iduna guffawed.

The bell chimed twelve midnight; all was well for now.

"A merry fucking Christmas to you, Iduna." Chortled the King.

"A merry fucking Christmas to you as well, Agnarr." Chimed the would-be Queen.

Ha! This was a rite all right.

I have never typed so much in my life for one single document or story. Apologies if this was a big history lesson for you people, but I felt that laying out this exposition was vital in making sure a lot of plot points make sense in the future. I also tried to include some Agnarr-Iduna fluff, so there's that

So hang in there, cause we have one more chapter before we reach the famous sisters.

For those who want to relate to the history:

Arendelle and Northurldra: Sweden and Norway,

Corona: Prussia,

The Southern Isles: Denmark,

and Weselton: Belgium

As always, constructive feedback is always welcome :D

[ephrampettaline]

chatzy au log with @alessafalling, @bumblingbrujo, @cassiegermaine, @ephrampettaline, @isadelavega, and @joeyvoeman

The car was parked a little ways down the block and across the street from the designated halfway house as to not be obvious, but still close enough to keep an eye on everything. Everything about this exchange was planned down to the last moment. Admittedly, with Joey at her side Cassie was a bit out of her element. She had wanted to make the Clair de Lune transfer a bit more face to face. Legitimate, if one were to stretch the definition. But Ephram clearly had other ideas. She sighed heavily, resting her cheek against the car window, eyes still trained on the building, "We aren't supposed to go till a light flickers in the upper right room."

Joey sat in the driver's seat of the car leaning against the wheel, and he took the opportunity to steal a few glances at Cassie's profile as she gazed on at the house in the distance. "I know," he muttered. Not condescending in any way. He knew repeating the plan was a valid way to pass the time. "And once we see it we pull in back to unload." He sighed, snatching his flat cap off his head and scratching his short hair for a moment. "How have you been, Cassie? It's been a while since we've been..." he didn't finish the sentence, letting it hang in the air like humidity weighing down on them.

"Right." Cassie murmured. It was an akward close space for the two of them, but she was happy to stew in the strained silence for the good of business. Of course, Joey couldn't resist, and it's not like Cassie could right out ignore him. She glanced to the tall man slouched in the drivers seat and gave half a grin. "Yeah. Don't think for a moment that is unintentional. Though I feel like Ephram is punishing me, more than you." Her gaze dropped to Joey's discarded hat, "Not a punishment. It's..." Cassie quickly corrected, sneering slightly, "Not business. Come on Joey, spare me till the guns are moved."

Joey nodded slowly, gripping his hat in his hand a bit tighter than he'd meant to, wrinkling the fabric under the pressure. "'Course," he muttered, completely ignoring her correction in his mind. She saw him as a punishment. That made sense. Seeing her felt like punishment to him. Ephram sure knew how to get under the skin of those around him. Turn the thumbscrews tighter as his victims just bit back their screams, smiled, and said 'yes sir'. "Till the guns are moved. Right. Until you move the finish line again." His tone was a bit more biting. They had nothing to do but stew as they waited, and Joey couldn't help his feelings boiling over a bit.

His frustration was possibly the most palpable thing in the car, and while Cassie was well aware it could quickly turn into rage, she wasn't the least bit concerned. Growing up in the Kingfisher household had well dessensitized her to tempers of almost every degree. Still, it didn't mean she wanted the job to prolong any more than necessary, and she caught the bite of Joey's comment as quickly as he threw it. "Someone has to draw the line in everything." Cassie's jaw clenched, and she sat up squinting more intensely at the designated window, "What's taking so damn long?" 

She glanced at her pocket watch again. Her other hand lingered on the car door, she was moments away from doing things her way.

Joey pursed his lips, shoving his hat back on his head. "You're real good at it too," he grumbled to himself. He tried to let the feeling go, but it lingered. It always lingered. To have had her and lost her would always weigh on his mind. But she was partially right, they needed to focus. "What are you thinking?" he asked, eye on her hand on the car door, his tone clear his mind was on the job again.

"I don't...know." Cassie whispered. It's not like she expected Clair de Lune to go south on them. Ruby had always been a solid contact. Unless something else had gone wrong inside, which was always plausible with a halfway house. "Take the car to the back." Cassie instructed him, opening the car door and stepping out. "We're doing this now before the window closes. Be careful. Maybe the cops are sniffing around but, I'm going through the front for better coverage." She shut the door before Joey had a chance to interject, and waved him off. She stuck her hands in her coat and started down the sidewalk. 

She took her time, eyes scanning the area with acute observation. For the most part, the streets were empty, and Cassie gripped the hand rail next to the porch steps to enter Clair de Lune when she felt the cold metal of a gun press into the small of her back. "Let's go Ms. Kingfisher. And no one gets hurt." Cassie shook her head, glancing at her dark blue heels. "I'm meeting a friend." 

The raspy voice chuckled, "We just wanna talk business."

Essie had made the call. She knew the consequences. Hand pressed to her shoulder around the area of where her collarbone ended she stumbles down the street. Passing by a parked car, but she didn't register the inhabitants, too focused on getting to where she was going. She knew the half way house was safe, would be safe with the right kind of cash anyway. Trying to act as casual as possible she pulls her coat around herself, hand still pressed to the wound in her shoulder she tried to walk a little straighter into the establishment. She bought a room for three times it's price to ensure discretion and waited by the front desk for a few requested items she might need to get fixed up.

Miguel had an understanding with the woman who owned the half-way house - he would sometimes check the girls who worked there without a fee, which helped keep her in business - with more of a profit, and healthier gals. And that meant that she would look the other way when other people used the house to meet up with the doctor on a more secretive basis. Miguel wondered, a lot, how his life had gotten so complex. He walked through the house, said hello to some of the residents and regulars. And went looking for whoever was bleeding. Eventually he found his way into a little room with a woman he recognized as the arms dealer, another not quite affiliated troublemaker, like his brother. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked as he set his black bag down and opened it up.

Essie sat on the bed with her spine hunched double. Not quite the posture of a lady, this being the image she usually tried her best to portray when not conducting business. The hint of tears in her eyes were covered by the intense look of anger in them. "Seven point five millimetre shot in my left shoulder." she tells the doctor. "No exit wound." she adds with a cringe as she shifts her shoulder looking up at him.

No exit, that made things interesting at least. Miguel sighed. "Well... Faye isn't going to be thrilled about this. Lay down on your back, on the floor." He got out his scalpel and his forceps and threw them in a disinfecting bath. Then he got out a strip of leather and handed it to Essie. "You're going to want to bit down on that when the time comes." 

Ephram tapped his cigarette into the cut-glass ashtray he'd set next to him on the narrow bed, not overly mindful of keeping the sheets un-ashed as he waited for Isa. His head was still ticking, calculating the way that the weapons handover had gone down -- dwelling on Freddie Watts' involvement and what was in it for the other gangster boss. The past few days had rekindled their friendship, something that Ephram wasn't (for all his hardened heart) entirely immune to, but at the same time ... something he could ill-afford, at this precarious juncture in the Kingfisher family's establishment as the head of the Slap Jacks.

He raised his eyes as the door to the room opened, silent, waiting for Isa to speak first. A cruel greeting, to be sure -- it would plummet her immediately into wondering if she'd fallen into disfavour -- but an impulse Ephram indulged himself in, for the moment.

Isa headed for her room with tea in her hands. She didn't expect anyone for several hours so her plan was to get a bit of rest before one of her regulars showed up at the usual time. When she walked into her room, however, it wasn't empty as she'd expected it to be, instead Ephram was sitting on her bed, smoking and Isa stopped in the doorway for a second in surprise. He wasn't saying anything and it only took Isa a couple of seconds to start worrying that something happened, something that came back to haunt her now. She shut the door behind her swiftly and without a sound, walking over to the desk to place her mug down, trying to mask her discomfort. "Didn't expect you here tonight, Ephram."

Ephram hummed, a low thrum in his throat as he watched Isa attempt to act as if his presence wasn't a concern. "That's the thing about us bad pennies," he murmured, "--we always turn up." He took a drag, saying tightly through the smoke filtering into his lungs, "Don't let me keep you from enjoying your tea. I want an update on where you're at with Councilor Brindle, is all, Isa. Did he tell you if there have been any competing bids for the government charter for brandy shipping, or is Kingfisher still the leading tender?" 

It was a huge prospective deal, and one that the old man had never shown interest in; it was Ephram and Cassie who wanted to mix legitimate business in with the jobs under the counter. Brindle was a lech, but he was also canny, and Ephram wasn't about to assume that merely throwing a beautiful prostitute at the man would eke information out of him. No, he'd chosen somebody clever, too; somebody who could act, somebody who could think on her feet.

Isa hesitated for a moment, not wanting to pick the tea back up just to not seem like she was doing what Ephram said, but at the same time, at least it gave her something to do with her hands, so she ended up picking it back up as she leaned against the table. "He's not easy to get anything out of, Ephram. Most of the time he just complains about his wife and barely talks about anything relating to his work." She felt like she needed to explain why she hasn't gotten all the information needed yet. She needed the money she got from the Slap Jacks, she needed to make sure Ephram didn't think she wasn't capable of getting the information he needed. "I did find out that there are other bids, I think at least one of them is better than yours, but I couldn't get it out of him yet who the bid was from."

Ephram grunted thoughtfully. "Not bad," he said, a verbal pat on the head to let Isa know she wasn't in the doghouse. "I can follow that for the time being." Kingfisher wouldn't revise their bid unasked -- it would do them no good to seem overeager -- but Cassie could start putting out feelers from an accounting side of things. There weren't so many shipping companies in Soapham with the vessels and manpower to handle this sort of big contract. 

Screwing his cigarette into the corner of his mouth, Ephram took a folded wad of bills from his vest pocket, removing the silver money clip and beginning to strap off dollarpound notes with sharp, quick motions. "How's that mother of yours in the country, eh? The one with the sick cow and the ailing hip?" The mother and the cow and the bloody hip could be a complete fiction, for all Ephram knew; but he didn't much care about that. He appreciated people who put some creativity into trying to ootch a little more out of their boss's billfold into their own, especially when they did it with such flair as Isa did. 

Holding out a slightly thicker crease of bills than was strictly warranted, Ephram waited for Isa to approach to take the money and took her hand when she did, pressing the folded paper into her palm. "Take your dress off," he said. "Only the dress." 

Essie grimaces as she stands up and shifts painfully onto the ground, first sitting and gathering her dress around her knees before putting one arm back to ease herself down. Not an easy task with the other hand still holding her shoulder, her back hitting the ground with a little force. She stares right back at the man, taking the leather and holding it simply in her hand for the time being. "Thank you for agreeing to see me."

Miguel looked down at her, a sympathetic sadness in his eyes. How had she gotten into this business? And how many people could he convince to change their ways? "Of course. It's my calling. I come when people need me." He shook his head. If only he had ever learned to say no. Oh well, he needed the cash, who didn't? Was that the only thing that lead people astray like this? He held Essie's good hand with one of his, held it tight. And then he doused her wound in the disinfectant. It burned less than previous iterations, but there was still a bite to it.

Essie recognised what she thought was sympathy in his eyes and she couldn't help but speak. "I got shot but I'm not delicate." she snaps. Steeling her face she moves to stare blandly at the ceiling, however her eyes show her true emotion, pain mixed with the same anger than she'd retained from before. That facade broke when she felt the sting of the disinfectant. "Fuck." she snaps, her fingers closing tightly around his hand, with almost too much force. "Warn a person."

Miguel cleared his throat. "That was just the start, and it's nothing compared to what's next. I'd put the strap in now if I were you." Miguel had been on the front, that was where he was good, field medicine. Doing what he could when he could, and cutting his losses when he had to.

Essie stews for a moment just staring back at the man before closing her eyes and shifting to put the leather in her mouth. "Warnings, at least let me know when you're going to do something so I can be ready." she requests. Teeth clamping down on the leather she opens her eyes again. This time watching his hands.

Miguel nodded once Essie's eyes were open. Then he took his scalpel and his forceps and dug into her shoulder. He tried to do as little damage as possible, but it was hard when the flesh was already inflamed. Not getting the bullet out would be worse. The chance of infection would be high. So he kept going, until his hands came back bloody, a big piece of shrapnel in his grasp. He poured more disinfectant in the wound and let it soak before he got out the needle, driver, and thread. "Alright. Just a couple stitches to keep it closed." There would be a puckered scar, but she would live. She would need water and rest, but the halfway house could provide those.

Essie keeps her jaw tense so as not to make any noise. It's difficult. The entire process excruciating but she keeps her eyes locked on the process taking place on her shoulder. She focuses on hand movements and after the bullet is out she lets her eyes follow it as something to hold onto. Tears leak out the corners of her eyes unable to stop them, unable to wipe them away either as they trail down the sides of her face. "Just do it fast." she says muffled around the leather in her mouth.

The stitches took no time at all. One, two, and knot. Miguel wiped at her wound and squeezed her arm. "All done. Drink a lot of liquids and rest. You need it. I'll clean up."

Essie sits up slowly. A hand moving up to hover over the stitches in her arm changing direction last second to instead tug on her blood soaked clothing. The hole in her dress causing her to grimace, but able to ignore the pain now that she wasn't so worried about blood loss. "How much?" she asks the doctor. "For your services and your silence?"

Miguel sighed. He hated this part. "This covers my time and supplies." He wrote a number on his pad and left it on the nightstand. "You don't have to pay extra for silence." He started rolling up the carpet, it was thoroughly ruined. But it was easier to replace the rug than get the stains out of the wood floor.

Essie eyes the doctor and glances at the price. "Who are you loyal to?" she asks him. Making to stand up and out of his way. Pleased that she would not have to do the cleanup and that this certain job he would do without being asked. Shrugging her coat back on with slowed movements she watched him move around the room. "I won't be staying here though."

"The Hippocratic Oath," Miguel grumbled. "I help everyone. I don't have loyalty to any one family." He hefted the rug over his shoulder and started out of the room. "Wherever you do it, Essie. Be safe."

Joey opened his mouth to protest but Cassie was already gone before he could stop her. He knew not to argue with her in most cases, and she'd do what she wanted even if he had, but he also knew it was his job to protect her during this hand off. Still, he did as he was told, pulling off and heading around the block to the alley at the back of he large house. He parked and got out, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the car to wait for Cassie to come out the back so he could start unloading. But minutes ticked by and the tobacco burned down to the filter on two different cigarettes before he started to sweat a bit. But he trusted her, so he waited.

Isa felt the relief wash over her that she was still in, only nodded though. Playing it cool and all of that. “I’m going to get the names,” she said firmly. She needed the money, yes, but there was a small part of her that enjoyed the challenge. It was definitely better, made it a lot more bearable to have something to pay attention while somebody she did not feel any kind of desire for was in her bed. 

There was a new glint in her eyes when Ephram pulled out the dollarpounds, placing the mug back onto the table. “The hip is still ailing, the cow died about a week ago,” she gave the reply to his question that was mostly fiction. Her mother did live on the country, but her hip was just fine and they never had cows. She walked over to Ephram slowly and took the bills. “Thank you,” she said and before she did anything else, she took the money and put it into the drawer of her table. She’d hide it later with the rest, but for now, it made her feel better to not have it out in the open. 

And then she undid her dress and let it drop around her legs, stepping out of it and walking back to Ephram as she turned her brain over to work mode. “Where do you want me?” she asked, her fingers toying with his clothing, looking up at him with a question in her eyes whether he wanted her to undress him or not.

"I want you," Ephram said, letting his fingers trail along her silken slip with his callouses catching and pulling, "exactly where you are." He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, the paper coming apart in a twirl of tobacco, and put the side of his face against Isa's stomach, breathing in deep. "Brindle needs to think that you're loyal to him," Ephram told her, wrapping his arm around Isa's thighs, just under the lush curve of her backside. "He's not foolish, but he's arrogant. Be impressed by everything he tells you, even if it's a particularly prodigious piss he took that morning." Ephram breathed a damp circle against the silk, tugging it up until his lips were brushing skin.

Skull Boys tended to be ex-fighters, ex-military, ex-whatever sort of man had plenty of brawn and nowhere to expend it anymore. The one who marched Cassie down the alley beside Clair de Lune and into a damp, deep alcove between two buildings was clearly of the first sort, from his missing teeth and cauliflower ear. "Thinking up taking work as a whore now that daddy's kicked the bucket, Miss Kingfisher?" he leered, using the gun to wave Cassie over to a few wooden crates where he indicated she should sit. He kept himself angled to see if anybody should pass by the alcove, continuing, "Skull Boys hears that you've been seen taking meetings with your brother. Now we know that Kingfisher's not about to hand business matters over to some broad with two brats, but that don't mean you're not important, does it."

Cassie walked lightly down the alleyway, stealing a few quick glances to the Skull Boy crook that guided her until she was met with the boxes and signaled to take a seat. The mention of whoring only had her chuckling for a moment and she smoothed her coat as she followed directions and sat patciently. "I told you. I was meeting a friend. You've seen me with my brother? Than why the hell would I waste my time on prostitiion." She clicked her tongue in disapproval at the stupidity of the idea and crossed her ankles. "What do you want? The longer you keep me, the harder Slap Jacks will come down on your sorry ass."

The boxer sneered, "Oh yeah? What kind of friend does a fancy lady like you have at a place like this wot shits out reprobates of all types day and night? Run that mouth all you want, Miss, it won't change your situation any. Skull Boys could use Slap Jacks as toothpicks if we had a mind to. This right here? Is a courtesy." He moved to the edge of the alcove, keeping an eye on Cassie as he took a quick glance around. "Right, look sharp and reconsider answering our questions, if you want to keep all your pretty teeth." The boxer flattened himself against the wall to allow a woman into the alcove, as small as Cassie herself but with a fluffy cloud of bleached-blonde hair under a wide-brimmed dark hat. 

"That's my business." Cassie told the boxer calmly only just barely starting to sweat when the man threatened her directly. The fact of the matter was, she wasn't armed. If she had been, she was sloppily trained at best. So she didn't really understand the Skull Boys angle here, unless they were lower than dirt and simply didn't care. "Ask your questions, the important ones, instead of playing around." Cassie practically commanded of the boxer, but then it all became clear as another set of heels clicked on the cobblestones.

The blonde woman walked up to Cassie and tapped the box Cassie was sitting on with her skull-topped cane. "Be straight with me, bitch," the woman said in a tone as sweet as if she was inviting Cassie to tea. "You know as well as I do that it's the female of the species that's deadlier, hmm? And I've always wanted a little girl and boy of my very own. Bang bang, you're dead." The woman smiled, fingers held like cap guns.

Isa wanted to point out that Ephram wasn't saying anything she didn't know already. That was what her job entailed, whether she was trying to get information out of somebody or just making them believe they were the best fuck of her life despite being a paying customer. It's what kept them coming back. Feeling like they were amazing, feeling like they were listened to, when their wives, their girlfriends, their sidepieces, sometimes their mothers weren't doing the same. She ran her fingers through his hair, playing with a lock of his, letting him guide what would happen for now. 

"Yeah, I can do that," Isa said, sounding completely genuine, as if she's never thought about this before, as if Ephram himself came up with the most brilliant idea ever. Whether he realized she was doing the same thing with him he was suggesting her to do on Brindle, she didn't care. "He talks a lot, you know. Complains mostly, but it goes on and on for a long time. But I can definitely act like it's the most interesting thing I've ever heard."

Ephram, truthfully, wasn't considering that at all, taking at face value that Isa had found his somewhat redundant orders as completely fresh and new. It was the scent that wafted from her silken underthings that he was more focused on, the shift of her belly as she breathed and spoke, the feel of her fingers in his hair. "That's enough about Brindle," he said abruptly, looking up at her with his hands tightening on her custard-smooth thighs. That was enough about government contracts, and extorting information, and Slap Jacks, and even fucking Kingfisher. 

Ephram reached up to pull Isa down, rising slightly from the bed so that he could kiss her hot and hard with his hand tangling in the dark hair that spilled over the nape of her neck. "Undo my trousers. I want you riding me, Isa, you got your fucking money -- give me something better than you give that bastard Brindle." A corner of his lip twitched up in a grimace, hand in her hair clenching.

This boxer wasn't the man in charge. He couldn't possibly be. Cassie stared at the woman in the widebrimmed hat, taking in her words and only flinching when she raised her fingers like...pop guns. Cassie got the message loud and clear. That was a crossed line. "Let's play straight then. What business do the Skull Boys want with Kingfisher? I was overseeing firearm delivery for my brother. That's all I have."

The woman practically purred, opening the dark mink coat she wore and letting it hang open over her gown, dripping with jet beads. "See, Bosco? I knew if we just snatched up a lady, we'd get some answers instead of the runaround. Eminently more reasonable than you barrels of testosterone and ..." She reached over to drag one manicured fingernail down Bosco's chest, "...other things." 

Turning her attention back to Cassie, she said, "We haven't been introduced, how ditzy of me. My name's Petal Popovitch. Nice to do business with you, Cassie Kingfisher." She sat on one of the other wooden crates, crossing her legs and lighting a cigarillo. "Now, about this firearm delivery. I'm not really interested in your firearm delivery -- I'm more concerned about the other party involved." Petal directed a level stare at Cassie. "You know who I'm talking about, don't you."

Cassie watched Petal carefully as she took the seat next to her, lifting a thumb to chew the nail down to the nub with anxiety. "Freddie Watts?" She spoke, mostly to clarify that this was who The Skull Boys were after. The thing was, Freddie wasn't family. She'd rat on a potential business partner with the drop of a hat, especially if her kids were put at risk. Ephram would forgive her. "You have to tell me if he has a golden dick, or something." Cassie laughed bitterly. "Aside from the frocks, I simply don't see the appeal. Anyways." She shrugged that curiosity about Freddie away, "What do you want to do with Watts? I'm not his keeper."

Petal threw back her head in a laugh, saying, "It doesn't matter to me, darling, if he has a gold dick or three dicks or no dick at all. It's Watts' sparkly fingers and the promise of access to more jewels that entices me." Puffing on her slim cigar, Petal said, "--he hasn't offered to share that side of the business with Slap Jacks? Huh." 

She shook her head. "Greedy boy. But this does change the relationship between you and me, I'm afraid." Petal gave a regretful sigh. "If you've got nothing on Watts and nothing interesting to do with Jacks, then your only value is as a hostage. You've been one before, I assume? Growing up the extra, and all. The spare imitation Kingfisher."

Essie crosses her arms as the doctor leaves. She'll find a way to slip a little extra his way, he's good at his job and she appreciates his discretion. Essie tucks her coat further around herself and heads for the door. She heads down the halls and out the back door. Pausing in the threshold looking at a stationary car with a figure in it. In the wake of a discussion gone bad she's weary, her fingers tucks into her coat and over the handle of a gun. One of many she's always got on her person. Squinting into the windshield of the car she recognises the face.

Joey saw a somewhat familiar face exiting the house and sighed with relief, almost kicking off the car as he flicked his fifth cigarette in a row away. “Ms Caird,” he began as he jogged up to her. “Did you see Ms Kingfisher in there?”

Essie moves her hands away from her firearms and pulls her coat over her blood soaked dress. "Ms Kingfisher? No I haven't. Did you drop her off?" Essie wonders still holding the door open and looking back down the hall. "I walked the place just now, no sight of her."

Joey grimaces at Essie's answer. "Shit," he grumbles, panic setting in. This was bad on so many angles. If anything bad happened to Cassie, he'd kill whoever was responsible. But also he lost Ephram's sister, and that could result in him being dead before he had a chance to even kill a house fly. And on top of it all, he had this shipment he couldn't leave alone. "Look, I think we've got a situation on our hands. Cassie was supposed to go in front and arrange for the shipment drop off, but if she never made it in..." God, his stomach hurt. "I've gotta look for her, but I can't leave the car alone."

Isa kissed him back hard and strong, her fingers in his hair slipping down to his neck and pulling him close as if all she wanted to do was kiss him, as if she's been waiting for this, needing this to happen since the first moment she walked into her room and saw him on her bed. Her fingers worked his trousers, opening it quickly just enough for his cock to be out on the open, her fingers working it to get it ready before she quickly slipped out of her undergarment and straddled Ephram, sinking down onto him. "You feel so good, so filling in me," she breathed against his ears, husky and sulky, like she's never had better before, while she started to move on him.

Ephram knew, logically, that this was as much a pretence as the performance at the old man's gravesite. And strangely, that made the encounter eminently more satisfying. A lie agreed upon was more honest in its own way than actual feelings that required cold, constant vivisection to make sure nothing was being missed. He groaned as Isa pushed herself onto his cock with the skill required of her profession, his hands spanning her waist and rucking up her slip as her voice, just as silken as the heat inside her, started to drip honeyed words. Not new ones, but dammit -- gangland boss Ephram might be, but he was a man as well. And he liked to hear how good he fucked just as much as the next.

Growling, he turned them and shoved Isa down on the bed, gripping her thigh to tug her leg up higher as he drove into her. The glass ashtray spilled its contents onto the sheets and smeared their clothes, the parts of their skin that were exposed, as Ephram thrust over and over. "Say it again," he demanded, his dark-blown eyes meeting hers in the command. "How much you want this. How good it feels." He rolled his hips forward, then held still, panting. "No," Ephram said, changing his mind as he looked down at Isa. "Tell me something new. Tell me something true. Do that for me, Isa."

Cassie raised her brows at the mention of Freddie having hand in jewels. No, that wasn't information she knew. Ephram? Maybe. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. He's almost as slick as they come." Cassie tried not to look concerned at the mention of changed relationship. What did that mean? This Petal Popovitch clearly enjoyed teasing and rousing. "You want Watts? You can have him. He's dirty. But I'm honestly a little offended Petal." Cassie placed a hand over her heart, "You take me, jerk me around, and assume I'm a throw away nobody?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Why waste the energy? This is the kind of business model my father couldn't stand. The games. From one woman to another," Cassie stared at her. "You might wanna look a little deeper."

"Oooooh!" Petal wriggled on her crate seat, leaving her cigarillo in her mouth for a moment to clap in delight. "That's a relief, I tell you, Cassie, a real honest relief. Not about Watts, that can be filed under Other Business for now. But you!" Petal held out her hands, gesturing at Cassie, before taking her little cigar from her lips. "For a moment there I was prepared to be disappointed. I know what it's like, after all, being--" she made a face, rolling her eyes, "the girl in the gang. Nobody takes you seriously!" 

Petal made a moue of commiseration, until something occurred to her and she cocked her head. "Your brother does, though, doesn't he? That's the little deeper part of it, hmmm?" She gave a sly grin, twirling her cigarillo in Cassie's direction. "You two scamps are trying to pull something over on us all. Go on, tell me! You've all but admitted it already."

Essie purses her lips at the man. "A shipment of what?" she asks seriously. "I'll stay here if you tell me. Depending on the cargo. You should inform your...organisation as quickly as you can before you go looking." she suggests. "Backup on the way is always a good thing. And let them know who's with the shipment."

"Your guns," Joey hissed quietly. The cargo wasn't high on his priority list any more. But knowing someone that cared about it would watch over it was comforting, at least to save his ass. "Get in," he said, gesturing she round the car. "I don't have time to let anyone know. Every second counts." Once she was inside, he drove a little way down the alley, going slow and glancing down each adjoining alleyway down the block. That's when he saw a car blocking one of them, and a group of people further down. "Shit, shit, shit...."

Bosco made a hupping sound from the mouth of the alcove. "Company on the way, boss," he said, raising the gun he was holding. Petal looked put out, but rallied quickly. "Looks like you and me are going for a ride, toots," she said, standing and doing up her mink again, taking Cassie by the elbow in a startlingly strong grip. "Shift it, and quick."

Cassie shook her head with a sigh, "Aw Petal, the camaraderie. It's sweet." But a part of Cassie wanted to bash the woman's face in, or at least have one of the Slap Jacks do it. For threatening her kids. She wouldn't forget that. "Unfortunately the Kingfisher's have very little interest in you and your bucks. I'm sorry to inform you." Cassie tilted her chin up slightly, "So unless you have something to offer-" But Cassie's digs and cuts at the other mob boss was cut short when the boxer came back, and Petal was pulling her towards a car for escape. "And here come the revelry. What was that Petal? Five minutes tops?"

Essie glanced at the car and nods once. Her own guns, well. Not hers any longer as they'd been signed over. Getting into the car with a man heavily integrated with a gang like the slap jacks wasn't high on her list of things to do. But at that moment she wanted to affiliate with them, she might have just been stitched up but perhaps this would aid her business in the long run. Or at least if this guy got himself killed she could drive the shipment back to Watts. Pulling one of her guns as they drive she spots what Joey does. "Your call, but I warn you, I'm not looking for as much trouble as you are."

Joey jumped out of the car like a jackrabbit, digging into his waistband for his revolver. “Stay here,” he says to Essie. No need to get her too involved in this, as she made clear. Moving into the alley, he saw a glimpse of Cassie being pushed into a car by a woman, before that car sped away too quick for Joey to even aim his gun at the tires. There were two men heading toward him though, trying to get to the car close to the opening of the alley. Without hesitation, Joey aimed and shot one of them in the head, the body slumping to the cobblestone in a heap. 

Joey grabbed the other man by the neck, shoving him up against the brick as he aimed his revolver at his head. He quickly reached down to unarm the man before returning a hand to his neck and squeezing slightly. “Where are they taking her?” he hissed. “WHERE ARE THEY TAKING HER?!” he then yelled before the man even had a chance to respond.

Skull Boys were loyal to a fault, and Skull Boys didn't hesitate when it came to dealing death -- either for others, or their own. The heavy who Joey grabbed didn't show any fear, even less care about the sudden violent demise of his companion, and he gave a gold-toothed smile even as he struggled for breath. "Where the boss lady takes things that she wants alterations done on em," he said, tongue lashing against his cheek with lurid suggestion.

Essie had no qualms about staying where she was, she was in absolutely no hurry to be shot at again that day. Maybe she wanted credit for helping out, but she wasn't willing to go far into danger herself for it. She recognised one of the skull boys, but the next moment his head was blown and his body had hit the pavement. Standing half out of the car she watches Joeys attempt at interrogation. "Break all his fingers." she suggests unhelpfully.

Isa was rocking on Ephram, putting her best performance forward like she did with everyone else - this was a kind of acting, just the one most people looked down on, even though it probably brought the most pleasure to the people who came to her bed, and she could tell Ephram was enjoying it. No surprise to Isa, what man didn't like to hear just how good he was, that he was fucking so good even a prostitute liked what he was doing. 

He swiftly turned them around, shoving Isa onto the bed and she opened her legs just a little wider, more inviting, while her mind momentarily wandered just how her sheets and her slip would need extra washing because of the cigarette's ash. He then asked her to tell him something true, and she pulled him down and kissed him hard instead of answering him right away, buckling her hips up against him. 

"Your lips, they are soft and inviting, but when you kiss, it's hard and demanding. I like that," she said, something that sounded like the truth, maybe because half of it was, and maybe because it wasn't something she usually said. Wasn't the kind of compliment most people wanted to hear.

Ephram gave a growl as his movements against and into Isa grew shorter and deeper, the iron bedhead clanging against the wall. He cupped her cheek with his free hand, thumb stroking her cheekbone, and said in a strangled, low voice, "--good enough," before ducking his face against her throat and coming with a cracked, stifled cry. He stayed there for a few heartbeats, catching his breath, and then raised his head to plant a firm kiss on the corner of her mouth. 

Pulling out, Ephram sat up on the side of the bed again and lit a fresh cigarette, puffing hard on it as he tucked himself away and did up his trousers. "Here," he said shortly, tugging off the amethyst cabochon he wore on his pinkie finger and tossing it onto Isa's body. "For your trouble. And the fine performance."

Isa's movements became ragged, her thurst upward getting more and more erratic, her panting getting harder as Ephram was clearly getting close to the climax, and when he dropped his face against her throat, she cried out, pretending to have come. She hasn't actually come from a client in... well, probably never, but they didn't come to her to know that. She once against ran her fingers through Ephram's hair, stroking his head while he caught her breath, still heaving as if she was trying to catch her breath too, and after he pulled away and sat up, she pushed herself up against in a sitting position and leaned against the bed frame. 

"You've got one for me too?" Isa asked nodding towards the cigarette danging from his mouth. When he threw something at her, she picked it up quickly, her heart starting to beat faster now when she realized what it was. She looked up at Ephram and then back down onto the ring. "Happy to be of service, please do come back whenever you're in need." She looked at him for a long moment in silence before she turned the conversation back onto her task. "How time sensitive is Brindle thing, Ephram? How long do I have until I need to get it all out of him?"

Ephram shut his eyes when Isa sat up, securing the ring he'd given her and turning immediately back to the topic of Brindle. Kingfisher business a tap-tap-tapping at his skull without a moment's respite, even with the taste of her eroding under the cigarette smoke at the back of his throat. He stood up, long fingers flicking a cigarette from his case; he swapped it for the one he'd just begun, using the lit cigarette to light the new one and then handing it over to Isa. "Till the end of October," he said, raking his fingers through his damp hair and one-handedly doing up the top button of his shirt. "Conservatively. If anything new arises--" 

Gunshots rang through the air outside, and Ephram reached over to Isa, hand on her shoulder urging her down lower on the bed." Stay there," he snapped, and went over to the window to peer out, his own handgun unholstered from his shoulder harness in the two steps between bed and curtains.

Joey bashed the enforcer's head against the brick behind him at the mere suggestion of the Skull Boys doing something to Cassie, pressing the barrel of the gun right between his eyes. "Don't yank my chain, asshole. Tell me the truth or you die like your friend." At Essie's suggestion, Joey smiled a bit. "Now that's an idea." Gun still square on him, superior body weight holding him in place, Joey took his free hand and snapped two of the man's finger's in one swift motion. "TALK!"

Essie steps out of the car. Joey was trying to do an awful lot at once. Feeling at no personal danger she moves forward and puts her own gun to his head. "Focus please. Fingers. Information. Holding him to the wall." she requests of Joey, trying to lighten his load for a moment. She looks at skull boy and hums. "You can't be talking about a tailors now, speak up."

Skull Boys might be tough, but their bones broke like anybody else's. The man howled, spittle flying from his mouth at the force of the sound. "There's a dress shop!" he yowled. "That's all I know, a shop south of the river, it's all I know, the boss lady don't tell us rank and file where exactly she does her business, you know she wouldn't!" He yanked, trying to pull his hand away, and then leaned forward and sank his snaggle teeth into what meat of Joey's shoulder he could manage, eyeing Essie as if he'd lunge for her next.

Essie squinted at the man when he spoke. However the sudden movement was not lost on the young woman. She steps back as teeth dig into Joeys shoulder. Her gun shifting from the skull boys face to his crotch and she fired off a shot quickly, the look didn't sit well with her.

Joey was appreciative of Essie coming to lighten his load. He'd felt like he'd been juggling chainsaws trying to keep the man in place and be menacing at the same time. Finally, the man talked, and Joey believed him. He knew what it was like only be told the bare minimum to get the job done. Not trusted or rewarded with the details. He was ready to let the man go, honestly, until the man straight up BIT him. He stifled a cry of pain and used the hand of his gun to hammer into the side of his head. Essie's gunshot made him jump back, but even as he bled he quickly smiled as the man cried, cradling his bloody trousers on the pavement. 

"I think we're good and done with you," Joey growled, reaching down and snapping the man's neck with his own grunt at the effort. "Good shot, Ms Caird," he said as she stood again, wiping some sweat from his brow as he tried to catch his breath.

The Skull Boys heavy dropped like a sack of soaked cement -- albeit one that screamed and bled profusely -- and once Joey broke his neck, a flat, unnatural silence fell over the alleyway.

Isa slipped the ring onto her fingers for now and nodded at the deadline Ephram gave her. It would be tight, getting anything useful out of Brindle was like trying to find a sober one in a pub aside from the barkeep - practically impossible. But she'd already gotten him to talk, all she needed was to get him to that point again. Ask questions as if she was nothing but a dumb body. She took the cigarette and took a drag of it when the gunshots pierces the relative silence around them, and Isa jumped in shock and fear, but when Ephram told her to stay where she was, she didn't listen, crawling down onto the floor instead, her heart beating in her throat now. "What the hell is happening?" she hissed at Ephram.

Ephram swore viciously when he scanned the street further down from Clair de Lune and saw no outlines of any cars. There was no way that Ruby had already opened her hiding-holes for the storage of the Slap Jacks weapons shipment, which could only mean that something had gone wrong before the boarding house had seen even one of Essie Caird's guns. "Nothing good," he said roughly, and looked over at the bed, about to say something when he realized that Isa was no longer there. 

Going over to where she was half-tucked under her bed, Ephram bent down, holding the sheets up. "That's a good place to stay," he said, any traces of a person other than a cold-blooded gangster evaporating with each word. "If you hear shooting downstairs, get under the floorboards. Don't come up until an hour after everything falls silent." He looked over the bed at the door, then back down at Isa. 

For a moment it seemed like he might say something -- maybe ask her something -- but then Ephram let the sheet drop, the thump of his booted feet circling the bed and fading as he left.

Essie lowers her gun as Joey snaps the mans neck. "I'm always a good shot." she says in return. "Location. You have a location. The locals might have already called the cops about the shots this is not the place to stay any longer, not with a shipment of munitions this big. No time to load them into wherever they were going in this place and no time to waste not going to this unknown tailors." she speaks quickly. On high alert she raises her gun when she hears steps coming down the alleyway.

Joey knew she was right. He started going over the scene to make sure they hadn't left any evidence behind. "I've got to take the shipment back to the compound first. Ephram should be roped in on this." He grimaced at the thought. "You don't gotta stick with me. But thanks for the help."

Ephram came down the alleyway at a dead run, taking in the two corpses and the Slap Jacks shipment car before he reached the other two and gesturing at the deceased men with his gun. "What the fuck is this?" he demanded, aghast. "Is that our shipment? Why are you in this alley and where--" Ephram almost raised his gun in Joey's direction. 

"Where's my sister, Voeman?"