(no subject)

[whynot]

I bring you a list of awesome.

1. capslock_merlin. When I talk about this show it's mostly in capslock anyway, so, perfect. If you don't care about being spoiled for Episode 11, please click here omg.

2. reel_merlin. A list of suggested movies for claiming. Back to the Future AU? Hitchhiker's Guide AU? JURASSIC PARK AU? OCEAN'S 11 AU?!? OMFG. I DON'T KNOW WHICH TO FLAIL ABOUT MORE AND THEY HAVEN'T BEEN WRITTEN YETfalskdf';slgk;dfk'g';dal;sfdlk

2a. Ages ago I fiddled with the idea of a Boondock Saints AU where Peter and Edmund destroy shit and kill people in the name of god andthentheyhavesex. It's not like they'd be completely out of their element. Aslan is totally Il Duce, but damned if I know who Smecker would be. Caspian is Greenly.

3. Speaking of Boondock Saints, In God's Country is greenapple's drabble-remix of my Boondock Saints fic Big Sky Country and it (the remix) is AMAZING. AMAZING. Connor/Murphy (warning: incest etc), rated R. Big ups to her for condensing 5000 words down to 400. Oh my gosh you guys, BOONDOCK SAINTS. GOOD TIMES. (Also, what is it about a canon with religious themes that makes it so prone to incest?)

4. amory_vain remixed my Y Tu Mama Tambien fic here, and it is HOT. I, um... didn't do my drabble remix because I never got my assignment, and then I forgot about it. I FAIL REMIXTHEDRABBLE. But I talked to the mods and they say I can get in on it anyway, late as I am. If I do, I'll apparently be drabbling Heroes!

5. I like to go on TV Tropes' Merlin page and see new stuff get added to it after every episode. Is it just me or are the examples for HoYay/FoeYay extremely skimpy. It is not just me. Camelot is totally crawling with STDs. ETA: Was it one of you guys that added that last bit to Hoyay??


BACK TO THESIS.

Comments

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

the last thing peter is expecting is the phone call from susan.

"we have a job," she tells him.

"is this job in hong kong?" he inquires. "i thought we were trying to avoid being killed."

"miraz set up a meeting with don patriso --"

"what?"

"-- and he'll call off the dogs for exactly one week."

"which accomplishes what exactly?"

"one week in order to rob the smithsonian."

peter has a bad feeling about this. "rob the smithsonian of what?"

"the hope diamond."

-
-

"oh my god," edmund says when peter breaks the news to him. "we're going to get shot by the secret service."

"i don't think the secret service actually patrols the smithsonian. or that the smithsonian has any connection with the government. wait, i thought you were the smart one."

"i'm on strike."

-
-

"it could be worse," lucy confides to peter over the phone. "i heard that he was also considering the crown jewels of england."

"what --"

"but he thought it might be a little hard to explain to the foreign assassins he's sent after you that they need to take a week off."

"i need a drink," peter says.

"it's two in the afternoon!"

"not here."

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

EH WHAT. 'kay i'll just sit here, with my popcorn, huddling under a pile of backstory.


susan finds the gun on the top shelf of peter's closet when she goes looking for cigarettes, and there is both panic and rage at a) the gun itself, and b) how unsurprised she is. she wants to be more surprised, she wants to, but she's staring at it now in her hands unable to pretend anymore. that when peter goes with dino, there's more going on than petty thieving and, what, making fake IDs and shit. susan sees red and she feels so graceless with this thing in her hands, holding it at an awkward angle at a distance from her body like it might, what. like it might kill her.

when peter comes home that night, susan is sitting on the steps of the front porch with her fourth cigarette, and in the middle of his cheeky grin and his "aw, you waiting for me?" susan crushes the rest of her cigarette underfoot and lunges at him, shoving him backwards so hard he nearly topples. and how could you, she is saying, how could you, i know what you have in your room peter and you're the biggest fucking idiot that i know

and all these words, she doesn't even know what she's saying anymore. peter, with some difficulty, grabs her forearms and goes, "susan. susan. susan." like by saying her name three times he might bend her to his will like in those old fairy tales.

"--and i bet you don't even have a license for it, i mean of course you don't, because you're a child, peter, you're a child and you're only pretending you're not that thing in your closet proves it, it proves it oh peter--"

"susan." he shakes her. "listen to me!"

"you're going to get arrested," she hisses. "this isn't games anymore!"

and eyes boring into her he says, "i know."

"get rid of it. throw it away, i don't want that thing in my house. i don't want you touching it."

and then they just look at each other, each with different shades of caution, susan with challenge and peter as if trying to solve a puzzle. and peter says, "all right."

"promise."

peter hesitates. then, "i promise."

she narrows his eyes at his hesitation. susan wrenches herself from his arms and goes back inside the house, slams the door. edmund from the den yells, "jesus, su, you're gonna break that thing!" but she ignores him and goes to her room. from her window she can she the plume of peter's cigarette smoke rising into the air, from where she had been sitting waiting for him, not long ago.


OH NOES everyone's spiral into criminality and debauchery is kinda making me like this: :-(
it's like, "oh susan IF ONLY YOU KNEW"

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

HELL YES BACKSTORY. the frontstory is just, like...i don't know, at the moment.


edmund is awake when peter stumbles into their room, the knob turning one two three times before he finally gets it open, standing in the center of the room and shaking blindly. he doesn't seem to notice that the light is on, that edmund is doing chemistry homework at his desk, trying to figure out what hydrogen sulfide and phosphate make when put together.

"pete," edmund says, standing up. "peter, what --"

it takes peter a minute to realize that he's talking, and when he does he jerks, staring at edmund blindly.

there's something red all over his hands. first edmund thinks it's paint, but it's too --

it's not paint.

"oh my god," edmund says. "are you all right, are you --"

peter stares at him with wide blue eyes, and he looks very young, and very scared.

edmund stumbles around his desk chair and grabs his arm. "peter, are you all right?" he asks, and peter nods, dazed.

"okay, you need to -- you need to wash your hands, because --"

he has to shepherd peter into the bathroom, and peter doesn't seem to realize what's going on until edmund pushes him into the shower clothes and all and turns it on and then he blinks.

the water going down the drain is red, and peter makes a strangled sound and reaches for the soap.

they're both soaked by the time peter's coherent enough to get out of the shower, but the first thing he does is grab edmund's arms. "ed, i need you to pack a bag," he says.

"okay," edmund agrees, even though his brain is screaming what the fucking hell but he'll follow his brother to tne end of the earth and beyond, come hell or high water, and if peter tells him to pack a bag, then he'll pack a goddamned bag.

peter gives him a thin smile and plucks at his damp sleeves. "don't bring your schoolbooks," he says.

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN. did you mean all four of them heist out the smithsonian?? or just su, lu, and cas. i was thinking we should swap lucy for one of the boys, either boy. say it's peter, 'cos abruzzi is like, "tell your brother to come back. we got things to say to him." and of course susan is like, "NO." but lucy lets it slip during webcamming and susan is like, PISSED, 'cos she doesn't want pete and ed to worry. and lucy just frowns at her and says, "we have to be up front about everything, su, this is no time for secrets." (but you know, susan and peter kind of GO NUTS when the subject at hand is EACH OTHER. OR SOMETHING. oh god, this thread, it is where i do all my lizard-hindbrain shipping, like i am some sort of victorian gentleman who does nasty things at the brothel so i can come home and be proper to my wife.)

okay so then peter is like, "i'm coming back," all brusque (and secretly missing susan) and susan is like, "NO STAY THERE," and peter is like, "no way."

"i'm coming back too," says ed.

and EVERYONE is like, "no."

peter adds, "soon, i promise. but not now."

and edmund feels a little guilty at feeling relieved.

SO THEN. i return peter to you, i still have edmund to wax rhapsodic about the philippines, and like. OH AND LIKE:

"corin," says peter thoughtfully. "you busy?"

and corin, who is, like, watching tv, says, "what, now?"

"no, maybe the next month or so."

corin looks at him.

BECAUSE NOW THAT EVERYONE (minus ed) HAS BEEN ROPED INTO DOING THE SMITHSONIAN HEIST, WHO IS LEFT TO TALK TO BISHOP ASLAN IN NEWWWWW ENGLAAAAAAND??

answer: corin.

CORIN IN NEW ENGLAND dhrfoaf;j

i was gonna have lucy seek out aslan but then i realized she can't really leave without the mob being suspicious.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

damn! i was hoping to dump the smithsonian job on you. *pouts*


susan and lucy are waiting at the terminal for peter, but patriso's men get there first. at least, peter's pretty sure they're patriso's men and not abruzzi's. he could be wrong.

he doesn't look back over his shoulder at susan and lucy as they shove him along, out of the building and into the backseat of a car next to someone who he's never met, but whose face he knows just because it's good to know your enemies.

"mr. pevensie," don patriso says quietly.

peter swallows. "mr. patriso," he says in return.

"i've heard a lot about you." he pauses, and peter fills the silence with, "likewise."

"family is important, don't you think?"

"yes." what the hell is this about? "of course."

"especially when it's the only thing you have."

"to be fair, don patriso," peter says, because he's an idiot like that, "there's about seven hundred grand sitting in various back accounts across the world that say differently."

"but that's just money, mr. pevensie. that's just a thing. that's not family. family is something else."

"yes," peter agrees, warily. he has absolutely no idea where this is going, and he's not actually sure he wants to know.

but really. how much worse can it get?

patriso smiles at him winningly. "so, mr. pevensie," he says, "i hope that you understand where i'm coming from when i say that it seems that we both agree on this, and yet there are certain members of your family who don't even know if you're alive."

that much worse, apparently.

"it would," patriso adds, "be very good for all involved if you and your sisters and your brother were to pay your parents a visit. i believe they still live in finchley."

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

WHA, ARE YOU KIDZ, i dunno how to construct heist action! i have never even been to the smithsonian! BUT I WILL SEE WHAT I CAN DO. it would probably involve the pevensies thinking ruefully that caspian is no edmund, but then caspian proves himself in other ways...

BUT FIRST.


on the way to atlantic city, they spend the night at a comfort inn in the boonies of pennsylvania. and after lucy and susan have gone to bed, edmund watches the news on mute and close-caption. news about the missing pevensie children are beginning to show up less and less, which is good and bad. good 'cos it's easier for them to slip under the radar now, and bad because that means less shots on TV of his friends and relatives, and he kind of has grown used to seeing their faces, blank with worry, saying how they were such good kids, they are missed, etc. photos of an exuberant lucy with her cheerleading friends in uniform, a scrappy yearbook photo of peter smiling a twisted not-a-smile, a better one of susan (a better smile), and the really dorky one of himself from the time the quizbowl team took second place. (ugh, he thinks when he sees that. remembers the frustration of sitting out on the round when no one else on the team knew what color the stars are on the flag of new zealand.) and greg flaherty and his stupid face saying, "the older two, though, they kind of had a reputation," before a straight-faced hairsprayed newscaster goes contemplates the connections peter had with the falcone gang and the night the electricity was cut on grant street.

you've always wanted adventure, edmund thinks grimly to himself. but he is also a kid, and he misses his home, and the pizza place by the school. and internet. and not having to worry about gas money. and--

stop it, he tells himself.

the door opens and peter's back from buying cigarettes at the corner store. edmund looks at him.

peter says, "let's go for a drive."

+

through the quiet pennsylvania town, and past city limits. edmund asks him where they're going and peter says he'll see. doing 70 on the highway just 'cos they can, past headlights and road signs, and edmund turns on the radio and they listen to 80s rock until peter makes fun of him for nodding along to bon jovi.

"where are we going?" asks edmund, when peter goes off the highway. "we're not leaving the girls behind are we?"

"of course not."

fields and farms, miles of flatness all around and nothing no landmarks to tell them where they are. and peter says, "perfect."

he parks by an empty field.

"what are you doing?" edmund asks when peter starts rummaging around under the seat. "what are you looking for?"

and when peter pulls out the gun, edmund blanches.

peter says, "you're going to have to learn to shoot one of these someday. may as well be today."

+

the gun is heavy in his hands, heavier than he would have thought, but then again what does he know about guns. it feels too big, or maybe edmund feels suddenly small, he doesn't know. he thinks of cop shows and action films, and bruce willis, and world war 2.

"put your pointer finger here," says peter, his hands gentle on edmund's. "don't put your thumb there. move your left hand here."

"how many times have you shot a gun?" edmund asks.

peter says, "i don't know."

"have you ever killed anyone?"

"straighten your elbow."

and when he presses the trigger, the gun explodes. edmund can't really put it any other way -- he sees now why peter drove them all the fucking way out here. it explodes and jumps in his hand like a living thing and he almost drops it, but he doesn't, and is glad. and what he's thinking is how hollywood sound designers have been lying to the public for years; it's not a bang or a pow or any of that shit -- it is something that leaves his ears ringing, his hands shaking, and the air smelling like sulfur.

"you have to watch for the kickback," says peter, and edmund says, annoyance covering up his nerves, "yeah, you could've told me that earlier."

peter says, "try again."

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

LASS LASS YOU READ MY MIND WTF.

i have to get this scene out immediately before you READ MY MIND SOME MORE.


she's taken edmund and lucy out for ice cream at the nearest ben & jerry's -- something normal, she says to peter, who's lying in bed with an arm over his eyes as he alternatively contemplates the museum plans he's sweet-talked out of the records keeper at city hall and the ceiing -- and they're on their way back to the motel when she notices that there are more cars in the parking lot than there were when they left. well, whatever, it's a motel, probably somebody else checked in.

except. some of these cars look familiar, and some of them have plates from their home state, and does one of them have a bumper sticker that says finchley lions?

and then she's reaching for the door, key in hand, peter yells, "susan, it's a trap, it's --"

and then the door opens and gino ventucchio grabs her arm and pulls her inside, shoving her into the wall and bringing lucy in. "where's the kid?" dino falcone barks. "the kid brother, edmund, whatever --"

"he's -- he wanted to go to the bookstore," lucy lies, voice high and scared and breathless.

gino's fingers dig into her arm as he swings susan around. she can see peter lying on the floor of the room, blood all over his face and dino falcone standing over him with a gun in his hand.

"they don't have anything to do with this," peter says, "jesus, dino, they don't have anything to do with this."

"yeah?" dino says, and leans forward, trailing the barrel of the gun up along the side of peter's face, down beneath his jaw, and susan hears the terrified sound she makes in the back of her throat. she reaches for lucy and gino lets her.

there are eight or nine men crammed in here, dino falcone's gang, and god, how did they find them, how did they --

"you know, pete," dino says, "when you ran, you did a stupid thing, bringing your family with you, because it told us where we could hit you and hit you hard."

"jesus, dino, if you hurt them i swear to god --"

"hurt them?" dino says. "oh, i'm not going to hurt them. i'm going to make you watch them die. although," he adds, looking back at susan with her arms around lucy, "maybe we'll have a little fun first. say, if those rumors are true, maybe you want to tell me a little bit about what she likes. are you fucking both your sisters or just susan?"

peter growls, low in the back of his throat. "i swear to god i'll kill you if you put so much as a finger on them."

dino looks back over his shoulder at gino, and gino laughs and grabs susan's chin with his hands. his kiss is rough and penetrating and ungentle and peter shouts, "i swear to god, ventucchio --!" and then he's off her, and reaching for lucy.

there's a sharp crack as lucy's scream is cut off by gino, and while susan's trying vainly to strike out at gino, at the others, she sees dino pistol-whip peter again. peter spits blood in his face.

"you got one of my boys killed," dino says, and peter says, "i didn't, jesus, i didn't know the guard was there, i --"

"you've got nicky's blood on your hands, pevensie," and peter's shaking his head, blood all over his face, and then dino turns the gun on susan.

she grabs lucy, wraps her arms around her sister, and tries to pull lucy's head against her shoulder, saying, "don't look, don't look."

"please," peter says, "dino, please, god, fuck you, do whatever you want to me, kill me, but don't hurt my family, please."

and it's the first time in eighteen years of walking the same earth that susan's ever heard peter beg for anything.

part two

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

"nicky carlotti," dino says. "niccolo carlotti. say it. say it!"

"nicky carlotti," peter repeats, "jesus, dino, he was my friend too, just don't, please --"

and then the closed bathroom door bangs open, and edmund's there, a gun in his hands. "you get away from him," he says, his voice shaking, but his hands are steady. "you get the hell away from my brother, you fucking mafia asshole."

"edmund," susan says before she can help herself.

"you didn't check the goddammn window?" dino spits at someone.

"the kid's not going to shoot anyone," gino says.

"you get the hell away from peter," edmund says, "you leave my sisters alone, you --"

"edmund, jesus," is all peter says.

dino puts the gun back against peter's jaw and peter closes his eyes, then opens them again. his throat moves shallowly, he's shaking.

"get the hell away from --"

"i'm going to pull the trigger," dino warns, and then edmund shoots him.

lucy screams, and susan thinks that she might have too, but afterward what she sees is peter on his feet with dino's gun in his hands, staring down as dino lifts his fingers to the spreading stain on his chest. peter points the gun at gino. "you get the fuck away from my sisters," he orders. "get him out of here. get out of here."

and then, belying that, he moves forward and grabs edmund's arm, hustling the three of them out the door in front of him. "you stay away from us," he says, walking backwards with the gun pointed into the room. "you stay the hell away from us." to susan, "get them in the car and drive."

everything they own is in that room. she doesn't look back.

in the back seat, on the highway, peter has to pry edmund's fingers away from the gun. "it's all right," he says, "it's all right. ed, look at me. look at me." and in the rearview mirror susan can see him cup his hands around edmund's face, holding him steady, and that edmund is crying silently.

peter is the one bleeding from a dozen different places, and she's never seen him so calm. lucy twists around in the passenger seat to look back, wide-eyed.

"you did the right thing," peter tells him. "you did the right thing. you had to do it. say it."

edmund licks his lips and swallows. "i did the right thing," he croaks. "i had to -- pete, i had to! he was going to kill you, he was going to kill su and lu and he was -- he was --"

"yeah, he was," peter says, "and i'm sorry, i'm sorry --" and he pulls edmund into a hug, and susan, watching, sees the way he flinches when edmund falls into him. three of the fingers on peter's left hand are broken.

"we have to go to a hospital," she says. "peter --"

"keep driving," he says. "just keep driving."

Re: part two

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

fhdsakjdflsd EDMUND OMG fshkfdskj familyyyyyyyyy

also sfhskljk AHAHAHAHA WHAT DID I TELL YOU. NO RETURN. i had been wanting to write about peter teaching edmund to shoot since i pressed 'post' on susan discovering the gun. that scene like vomited itself out of my fingers.

OMG I AM TOTALLY GONNA WATCH MERLIN INSTEAD OF DOING STATS OR FINALIZING MY PAPER so baddddd


they're at a rest stop on the highway somewhere in new jersey -- it's back to avoiding motels again. it's dusk in autumn and the horizon is streaked gold, and for a few minutes the undersides of distant clouds were brilliantly ochre and pink and, man, it was awesome. and peter is thinking maybe he's beginning to get used to that: to have blood on his hands and to love the sun with the same breath.

he leans against the trunk of the car. edmund and lucy are curled up together on the backseat; he can hear them murmuring to each other. susan emerges from the toilet and leans against the car beside him. she offers him a cigarette. he refuses.

she lights one up. "you kept the gun."

"yeah." he adds, "of course."

and they don't say anything for a while after that, not until susan is halfway through her cigarette and she says, "how are your fingers?"

lucy, who had been in the middle of EMS classes when they got the hell out of finchley, had splinted them. the bruises on his face are beginning to swell, and the cuts to coagulate. but he's okay, and peter tells her this. he asks, "are you okay?"

susan says, "yeah." she says, "i'm just glad we're all still alive."

peter smiles at her, but she doesn't smile back.

Re: part two

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

IT IS CRAZY I TELL YOU CRAZY. BRAINSHARE OHMYGOD for some reason i suddenly want pancakes. wtf, brain?

that scene was in my brain even before you posted your edmund and peter and gun scene! since you posted your susan and peter and gun scene! because we need to prove the threat is real! (oh my god, at some point this weekend i'm going to put all this in a worddoc just to see what the wordcount on this is.)


the thing is -- the thing is. they get a motel room a few nights later, about ten states over, and susan does her best at drowning herself in the bath, filling the bathroom with steam as she soaks. when she comes out, it's to find lucy and edmund asleep, curled up against each other in the same bed, and peter sprawled in an armchair. there's an unopened bottle of jd beside him, the gun next to it -- the bigger one, the one he took off dino falcone -- and in one hand he's holding the hotel phone and in the other a business card.

susan comes over, toweling her hair dry, and drops the towel on the bed. "peter," she says, and puts her hand on his shoulder.

he flinches before he looks up at her. he looks both very young and very old at once. "su," he says, awkward and tired.

she says, "what are you looking at?"

he holds up the card. it's the one they got from the stranger back in atlantic city, and there's no name on it, just a number.

"do you think we should," he says.

"now wouldn't really be the best time," susan says. "it's the middle of the night."

peter catches his bottom lip between his teeth and puts the phone down. susan leans over to put the card next to it, and while she's there, she kisses peter. he kisses her back, and there's a feeling of desperation there that hasn't been present for a long time, since the first time. she straddles his lap, tucking her bathrobe up around her thighs, and hears peter's low groan, and then his flinch as she jars one of the cuts on his face.

"i was afraid," peter tells her quietly. "i was scared out of mind."

"for yourself?"

"for you. i've never wanted to see you less in my life."

"oh peter," susan says, and kisses him again. she pulls his t-shirt off over his head and flings it blindly aside and goes back to kissing him, her hands splayed on his chest, bare skin to bare skin. warmth. she can feel his heartbeat. connection.

they're all still alive.

1/2

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

AND THEN PUT IT IN WORDLE


so, susan and lucy were going to buy some booze for lucy's 21st, but then they stop at the 7-11 to buy peter his camel lights, and some guy starts chatting lucy up.

"are you going to ashley's party?" he ends up asking her.

lucy tips her head to the side, says, "yes. where is it again?"

so he tells her, and she grins when he says he'll see her there, and back in the car susan raises her eyebrow. "made a new friend there."

"go to winslow ave," says lucy.

susan frowns. "far be it from me to say you can't go party on your 21st, lu, but edmund and peter--"

lucy says, "i'm not going to go party. we're going to a party."

"and what are we going to do at this party? work?"

it's very obvious which house on winslow ave is the party house. before they get out of the car, they hastily apply make-up: quick eyeliner, blush, pink gloss. they check their faces in the mirror, they check each other's faces, and as susan smudges lucy's eyeliner into symmetry, lucy says, "give me a kiss for luck."

"oh lu, you don't need luck," says susan, but kisses her anyway. her lips are sticky and smell of vanilla.

"let's go!" lucy whispers excitedly.

+

none so friendly as drunk college students, and none so generous with affection. this house is wall-to-wall with them. lucy has her arms around the waists of two girls, swaying and singing at the top of their lungs a song that was a hit two years ago. she has already picked their pockets, and their wallets are safe in her purse, with a number of other people's wallets. susan is somewhere on the couch in the middle of a mass drunk cuddle, the type whose participants sort of wish would eventually turn into an orgy, and she giggles and touches and is touched. someone tries to kiss her, and she kisses back.

"susan!" lucy grins at her, stumbling over. "got a cigarette?" the signal to scram.

"right." susan turns to the person next to her. "where's the coat room again?"

"ashley's bedroom, by the bathroom upstairs. are you leaving?!"

she laughs. "i'm just going to grab my cigarettes."

"oh, sweet. cool."

so susan goes upstairs to ashley's bedroom by the bathroom, and goes through all the pockets and purses, pocketing wallets and sunglasses and whatever else looks shiny and nice. she works fast, but she hasn't even finished the whole room when she hears footsteps coming up the stairs. this thing is done.

she slips out the room, caws "love your shoes!" at the girl coming up, and finds lucy strolling out of the kitchen, carrying a 30-rack box.

"what are you doing?" susan frowns. "is that full?"

lucy shakes her head. "there are some empties. i asked ashley if i could have them for recycling and she said yes."

"lu, are you seriously bringing that?"

"yes!" she says fiercely. "you'll see. i need this box."

and susan doesn't want to make it a big thing, 'cos they just need to get out of here, so okay, whatever, lucy can collect trash if she wants. it's her birthday after all.

+

it's not until they're in the car again when her pay-as-you-go cellphone rings, and it's peter, intent on yelling in her ear. after a prolonged period of not getting a word in edgewise, susan rolls her eyes and foists of the cellphone on lucy. "deal with this."

"hello?" says lucy. "no, susan is driving. ... we'll be back soon. didn't you get our text? ... yeah, so we said we were going to be late. ... well, su, must not have heard the ringing, it was pretty loud in there. ... oh honestly, peter. peter? peter!" but apparently he has hung up. lucy looks at susan. "what a baby!"

2/2

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

peter starts haranguing them as soon as they enter the room, and edmund cuts in with a bit of indignation occasionally, but he seems content to let peter do all the work. lucy's eyes come to rest on the bottle of cuervo that wasn't there before, sitting on the table, and remarks on it.

"i mean, what do you expect?" peter snaps. "the party started without you. it's what happens, when you show up late."

"oh, calm down," says lucy. "look, i have peace offerings."

and she rips open the top of the 30-rack box. they see within it, swimming in a shallow sea of empty budweisers, a bottle of johnny walker, a half-full bottle of canadian mist, a fifth of captain morgan, and an unopened bottle of grey goose.

she turns to susan. "i told you i needed the box."

"you know," susan muses, "most people just get it from the liquor store."

"it was sitting right there, what could i do?" lucy shrugs. "manna from heaven! happy birthday to me!"

edmund says, "i'll get the cups."



...that was totally longer than i thought it was going to be.

Re: 2/2

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

you know, i have no idea how all four of them start sleeping together.

also, i am maniacally in love with your lucy.


when peter's in jail and susan's off pretending to be normal, edmund and lucy go to finchley. it's the first time they've been here in more than ten years, and it's -- shockingly familiar. it seems like nothing's changed. they drive past the high school and it's exactly the same -- oh, a new coat of paint, a new signboard (PEPSI, it says and, WELCOME HOME LIONS HOMECOMING 2006 and lucy and edmund exchange certain looks), and the track has been refinished, but otherwise, this could be their finchley, and it could be peter and susan in the front seat bitching at each other and fucking greg flaherty and the finchley high football team on the field and edmund's cross-country team warming up on the track before setting off to roam around town. there are cheerleaders on the track now, working around the cross-country team, and lucy's eyes settle on them curiously for a moment before she looks away.

"did you miss it?" she asks. "this? being here?"

edmund shrugs. "of course."

they pull away, drive slowly through town. it seems smaller, now, more provincial. they pass the falcone garage, replete with mobbed up thugs and the ever-present horde of soon-to-be mobbed up teenagers standing around, trying to look cool. edmund idles at a stoplight, eyeing them, and lucy says, high-pitched, "edmund, don't."

and then dino falcone walks out.

he looks older, is edmund's first thought, and then he gives it up and pulls the car, turns off the ignition, and gets out. lucy scrambles out after him. "edmund!" she exclaims, and the sound of her voice carries.

dino's head turns and for a moment, he doesn't recognize edmund, not until he does. "i will be fucking god-damned," he declares. "is that edmund pevensie i see there? the son of a bitch who shot me?"

"the son of a bitch who shot you when i was sixteen, asshole," edmund says.

dino's eyes flick over to lucy. there's a gun beneath the fall of edmund's carhartt jacket, but he doesn't reach for it; doesn't have to.

dino sneers a little. "where's your brother, edmund?" he asks, a low purr. "where's peter?"

"wouldn't you like to know," edmund says, and then he says, "just came back so you wouldn't forget we were still here. we'll be going now."

"yes," lucy says, "we will."

"why, lucy," dino says, "you've grown up real nice."

she flips him off as they get back in their car.

"anyone else you'd like to see?" she asks edmund, archly, once they're back on the road. "mom? dad? greg flaherty? your old cross-country coach?"

they turn onto grant street and edmund remembers the sharp scent of blood, peter's fear, the kick of the gun in his hands all those months later. there's nothing here to show that anything ever happened, that a man died.

"no," he says, "let's blow this joint."

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

for once, it is soccer on tv instead of football or baseball. it's not any of the teams corin usually supports, but it is soccer, and he watches it with a third of his brain and the other two-thirds goes walkabout through his thoughts. his battle strategy for the next few weeks, for example. aslan's ear is difficult to get a hold of, and his sympathy even more so. the thing is to not seek him out.

"he hates feeling like he is at the beck and call of all and sundry," his father had explained to him before he left.

"what?" corin frowned. "isn't he a priest? isn't that what priests do? i mean, tending to his flock, or whatever?"

"he is a bishop," lune corrected, "and he is not a tame bishop."

"what."

the sports bar is the only place in the detroit terminal you can smoke a cigarette. every time, corin steps through sliding doors that take him from the drudgery of immigration and customs checks, and his feet automatically take him to the heart of the terminal. on his way to the bar he would pass two mcdonalds, two starbucks, a chili's, like he is back in the suburbs of his youngest years, memories of which have quickly become apocryphal after lune's business took him to the philippines. frost on fallen leaves at the end of november traded in for endless summer.

"come with me," he had said to cor over the phone. "it'll be like the old days."

"i can't," cor replied. "i've got a nutrition education program to run."

"you owe the pevensies from the--"

"no, we called it even, what with the whole japan thing."

corin said, "it'll be like the old days."

and cor said, with a touch of wariness, "i don't want it to be like the old days."

"you're whipped," corin had scoffed merrily. "you're pussy-whipped, you motherfucker. you've gone soft in the head."

"if that's what you call caring for aravis and having her best interests at heart, then yes. i am, as you so charmingly put it, pussy-whipped."

"she doesn't need you to protect of her, you know."

"i know. but i want to." cor said, "look, we're all family here. we do what we can for each other, but aravis and i have a nice set-up going on up here and you, on the other hand, are involving yourself in a blood vendetta with the mafia. and the pevensies."

"yeah, so come along and make sure i stay alive."

cor laughed. "i have done that so often, i think you owe me at this point."

"well, i can't repay you if you never put yourself in situations i can save you from."

"i'm fine with that. i enjoyed saving your ass. well, no that i enjoyed it, but the outcome was always worthwhile."

and corin never really expected to convince his brother to come along with him to boston anyway, but it had been nice to talk. they were twins born 20 minutes apart but they never even knew each other existed until they were like, what, ten or something? so occasionally (and more frequently now with peter and edmund being around) corin still finds himself wondering what it would have been like to have grown up at each other's side, to have developed the fierce love and unquestioning loyalty the pevensies obviously have for each other. the pevensies don't seem to fear overinvesting themselves like lune does, or being divested of something precious like cor. the pevensies would go into a war with each other's names as battle-cries.

"you want another one?" the waitress asks, gesturing at his empty glass of sprite where previously a full glass of sprite had been.

"how about a rum and coke?"

"you got it."

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

edmund breaks his arm in maine and uses it as an excuse to bully them all into going back to new orleans -- "where it's warm," he says pointedly -- but no one's complaining.

edmund likes new orleans, likes the unabashed fervor of the city -- still shockingly and heartbreakingly alive even after katrina. the french quarter is raucous, bourbon street moreso, and the garden district and uptown are stately, but in such a way that it's nearly tongue in cheek, like an amused younger brother grinning at his reckless older siblings. not that edmund knows what that's like, of course.

they're not working this time -- at least not yet -- so they get connecting hotel rooms at a hotel in the quarter, on the second floor with balcony access. "watch out for the ghost," says the tour guide from a ghost tour lucy drags them on, pointing at the filigree railing, and laughs an amused, knowing laugh before he goes on to tell the story. edmund tries not to dwell on the well-dressed man he'd seen on the balcony of the room next door, the one who'd grinned at him and who edmund hasn't seen since.

new york is the city that never sleeps, but new orleans is the city that's always awake, and edmund finds himself in lafitte's blacksmith shop with a hurricane in a plastic go-cup at five in the morning. just about the only things in the city that never close are the bars; it's the first place he's ever been that doesn't even have the concept of "last call."

there are parts of the city that are more touristy than others, but there's something very real about it, the grit and blood and bone of the city. everything has its story, everything has its place. even in the fancy houses of the garden district (the american district once upon a time), there are secrets hidden behind white columns and manicured lawns.

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

YAY NEW ORLEANS


the first time lucy falls head over heels, they're in galma, idaho. they're laying low until the heat from atlantic city, and they spend months in kirke's apartment, killing time, and it's almost like normal. or what she imagines normal to be, for people who haven't been on the run since their teens. lucy does the grocery shopping because it's peter and susan's faces that are on the news, and edmund is banned from all kitchen- and food-related duties. kirke grumbles at them about doing dishes and the cookie crumbs on the couch. they watch TV and argue over the single bathroom. it's nice, lucy thinks, except for how peter is smoking more cigarettes than he ever has.

there is a frozen yogurt shop on the corner where the youth like to congregate, and lucy begins to make a habit of going there that she doesn't even have to order anymore. she just goes in, starts talking and joking with ben behind the counter, and two scoops of coconut strawberry in a medium cup manifests itself on the counter, and it's four dollars twenty three.

lucy always thanks him and he always grins back, doffing the stupid "sir frost-a-lot" hat they make him wear.

+

her family and digory kirke begin to see less of her, which makes peter edgy and susan suspicious, though she doesn't say anything because she knows it would be hypocrisy. edmund, though.

like, after one of peter's spiels about being careful, edmund cuts in with his voice all cool and calm and says, "dude, just let her have her life." and then he and peter have one of their silent stand-offs, and peter is the one who grunts and scowls at lucy and says, "if this ben kid starts acting suspicious, though..."

and lucy could have kissed edmund right then and there. instead, she hugs peter, because peter needs it more, and says, "oh peter, who are we to talk about acting suspicious." then she kisses his forehead and ruffles his hair, because peter hates it when she does that.

ben drives her to a place just beyond city limits where you can park the car behind some trees and climb a rocky hill for a sunset panorama. when lucy says she's never been to a drive-in movie, he takes her to one. lucy teaches him to wiggle his ears. on his day off, she spends the night at his place having sex, watching tv, and getting wasted with him and his roommates. and it's awesome.



hmmmm, okay, i thought this would be shorter, but it is not, and anyway i am TOTALLY GOING SOMEWHERE WITH THIS but i just really want some ice cream and cartoons right now. hmm, and by "going somewhere", i mean "ye olde pevenceste".

I REALLY NEED A LUCY ICON.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

i had a moment of missing new orleans a vast amount. because it is WARM there.


it's probably a kind of miracle nothing like this has ever happened before.

lucy goes outside to make a starbucks run, and when she's turning away from the counter, clutching a cardboard tray of double-shot espresso (peter), chai tea latte (susan), caramel macchiato (caspian), and cinnamon dolce latte (her), she nearly runs straight into the guy standing behind her.

"i'm sorry," she says automatically, checking to make sure she hasn't spilled any of the coffee before she moves to duck around him.

and then he says, voice disbelieving, "lucy?"

lucy's far too well-trained to drop the coffee, but she stares at the boy blankly -- he's probably in his early twenties, and there's a girl with him, just behind his shoulder, clutching a paper bag with the Starbucks logo on it -- until the bones of his face finally resolve themselves into something that makes sense.

and then she says, "eustace?"

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

IN LIEU OF A LUCY ICON, I WILL USE A GWEN ICON INSTEAD. hooray for ot4 parallels.


and nothing lasts forever, no matter how easily you fall into it. even after a life of never staying still and being on the run, lucy is surprised at how easily she falls into galma's quiet ways. peter is still jumpy and beginning to take it out on everyone, and susan's smiles are beginning to be tight-lipped, but edmund and lucy suffer less from such cabin fever. lucy sees less and less of her family and of kirke, spending more time at ben's place, and eventually peter stops complaining.

still, nobody says anything when suddenly lucy is around all the time again. or at least, a quieter version of lucy, with a tendency to watch too much tv and ignore her phone calls. in the middle of an ANTM marathon, susan sits next to her and asks, "do you wanna talk about it?"

"about what?" lucy mumbles, not taking her eyes off the screen.

"are you okay?"

"sure."

so susan just makes them popcorn and they spend the next couple of hours watching pretty people pout and giggle and complain about their opportunities.

peter doesn't say anything. he has his quiet talks with kirke, and his quiet tension with susan, and when lucy tells him to smoke outside instead, he just opens a window.

+

edmund is eating a salad at the kitchen table and the first thing lucy thinks of is how ben and his roommates never eat salads. she's never seen a vegetable in their apartment, like, ever. and in her mind it's like, boys don't eat salads. and feels ridiculous about it, because all kinds of people eat salads, and how consumed was she by ben that she is hyperaware of edmund eating a salad.

he notices her staring, offers the fork in her direction and says, "you want some?"

lucy shakes her head.

"you okay?"

"yeah." and leaves it at that. she pours herself orange juice and sits across from edmund, and they speculate what the future will bring. things are beginning to quiet down, and peter is eager to take them all away from here. he would've had them leave ages ago, but kirke is cautious and susan had agreed with him. edmund and lucy stayed out of it; the cops weren't after them, after all.

"we should go to mexico," lucy says wistfully. "or even just california."

"pete's talking about canada."

"that would be nice too. i hear vancouver's great."

"susan's talking france."

lucy frowns. "france?"

"yeah, remember lune?" edmund spears mozarella and lettuce leaf with his fork. "he needs, um, some help with one of his businesses down at the riviera."

"susan would say france, she's the only one of us to speak the language." lucy stares at her empty orange juice glass, then says, "edmund."

he is dumping his plate in the sink, and lucy notices he doesn't wash it right away. "what?"

"you wanna go for a walk, or something? we can go to the woods."

"sure."

and this reminds lucy of ben too, because ben eventually stopped saying 'yes' to these kinds of requests, and instead sits around and smokes a joint, drinks his beer, plays video games with his roommates. talks about which parties are happening this weekend, and why the dealers are dry, and how the bars here suck but there's nothing else to do anyway. and lucy would say something like, "well, let's go to the woods. we'll bring a lunch," ben would just make this face and say, "the woods?"

and now here's her brother, her edmund, eating salads and saying yes let's go for a walk.

edmund takes her empty glass and puts it in the sink, and says, "now?"

lucy replies, "yes."

"'kay. i'm just gonna grab my jacket and take a piss."

she says, "i'll bring a lunch."

"cool."

and lucy smiles.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

FACT: angel coulby is totally my jill in dust.


it's been so long since they've seen anyone from their old life, and longer still since she's seen eustace -- after all, their families aren't particularly close, or at least they weren't fifteen years ago -- that lucy doesn't know what to do, just stand there at the counter with her mouth hanging open, trying to grasp at the threads of who she is, what she is. her professionalism.

"eustace," she says again, a little weakly. "what are you doing here?"

"i come here every day," eustace says. "i go to college here! but you, you -- where have you been? it's been fifteen years! are you all right, are you with peter and susan and edmund, your parents are --"

he stops, rewinds. "have you been in new york this whole time?"

and that makes lucy laugh, because there's nothing that's ever been less true about their lives. well, that and if they make an honest living.

"we're working," she says, careful. "we're a little more...mobile."

"hey!" someone shouts. "get out of the way! some of us want our coffee here!"

lucy moves aside, murmuring a polite apology, and eustace follows her.

"where the hell have you been, your parents have been --"

"everywhere," lucy says.

1/2

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

she coughs and hands the spliff to edmund, who still has the "i'm not sure this is a good idea" look on his face.

"ben and i have smoked here loads of times before," says lucy, a bit hoarsely. "we never get caught."

"there's a first time for everything."

"take it, you pussy."

"don't call me a pussy." but edmund takes it anyway, puffs on it like peter and lucy taught him years ago. his eyes water and he hands it back amid coughs. lucy shoves the water bottle into his hand. edmund and susan are marathon coughers, and lucy has learned to not light up with them without some beverage handy if she can help it.

the woods are quiet except for the coughing and the leaves rustling, and lucy and edmund wend along a path passing the spliff back and forth as her eyes felt fatter and fatter and her head became fuzzier. the sunlight through the trees is even more beautiful with the onset of autumn, and it filters down to them in shades of gold, and it's like some fantasy world, almost. like she is an adventurer on a quest, her loyal sidekick beside her as they seek out, like, some jewel, or magic scepter or something. the salvation of her kingdom. her heart aches with the thought of it, of being in another world where the only thing you have to worry about is witches and dragons and destined wars. you know how to be a hero in situations like that, she thinks. you know who's good and who's bad, you know who to fight. it's in peacetime when things become muddled.

they finish the spliff and lucy cries out when edmund throws it on the ground to grind it under his shoe. "don't!" she exclaims, and picks it up. she puts it out against the trunk of a tree and puts it in the pocket of her jacket. "it's littering. and what if the forest catches fire?"

edmund laughs at her for that, but she doesn't care.

the wind is blowing colder now, and harder, and she wishes she brought along a thicker coat but adventurer lucy probably won't whine about things like that, so she doesn't either.

"are you cold?" edmund asks.

"a little."

"you're shivering."

lucy shrugs.

the path emerges onto a rocky ledge, not a very tall one, and it splits in two downhill and you can take either one because it'll join up again at the bottom. beyond the ledge, more trees, swaying with the wind. it looks like dancing, and it makes lucy's heart ache with possibility and alternatives. she sits at the ledge and lets her feet dangle, ignoring edmund's insistence that she would fall off. a few seconds later, edmund joins her at her side.

"you think it would be easier, in another world?" lucy asks, seemingly apropos of nothing.

edmund looks at her, and his eyes are very red. "what's easier?"

"i don't know. everything. mistakes. life."

"there are mistakes in every life."

"that's not what i'm asking."

"it sounds like it is. like." he stares at the trees thoughtfully. lucy waits. then he says, "you only know this life, you know? you can't compare this life to another, 'cos even if you're, like, in that other life, you won't know what this life is like and you'll think that life is just as hard."

lucy says, "i'm worried about susan."

"is that what this is about?"

"no. partly."

"is this about ben?"

"i don't want to talk about ben."

"okay."

and then they are quiet again, each in their own thoughts, the dancing trees and the rustling leaves and the autumn around them. and lucy thinks, here. i just want to be here. with edmund, in the fall, with the trees and the sun, away from ben's dismissal and peter's restlessness and susan's growing distance. far from atlantic city and con games and forgotten security codes and untrustworthy allies, far from running away all the time and constant damage control. her throat tightens, and she thinks she shouldn't have smoked that spliff at all -- it's making her emotional, and that so so so wasn't the point.

2/2

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

"edmund," she says, and reaches into her pockets. "look."

edmund frowns at the things in her hand. "what is that?"

"shrooms."

"shrooms?"

"ben grows them in his closet. it's the last thing i took before i left his place." lucy asks, "do you want to do them with me?"

"what, now?"

"yeah."

"no," he snaps, and then he's angry, and that wasn't the point either, although his anger doesn't surprise her. "no! lucy, you're not doing shrooms. i'm not-- we're not tripping in the middle of the woods when we're running from the cops and--"

"i've tripped in these woods before!" lucy protests, her cheeks growing warm. "we weren't caught!"

"we're not doing shrooms first thing after you just broke up with someone," he hisses. "put those things away."

"they were the last thing i took from his apartment," she finds herself repeating, and to her horror her voice cracks and there are pinpricks of heat in her eyes that have nothing to do with being high. "he's going to be so pissed when he finds out. and like, good. they were--"

and then, to her even greater horror, she is crying.

"oh, lucy," edmund says softly as he wraps his arms around her. he lets her cry into his shoulder as she tries to stop, tries to say something, maybe to explain or to protest, but it just makes her cry harder. and she can't speak; there's nothing to say. edmund doesn't tell her to hush or that it's okay, and for this lucy is grateful. she doesn't want the condescension -- she isn't sure if she wants this hug he's giving her, but she doesn't know what she wants, only what she doesn't, and it's never any good trying to build a life out of what one doesn't want, out of negative space. so she lets edmund hold her, and lets him stroke her hair, and as much as she hates being the little sister sometimes, she loves having older brothers, one like peter, who is brave and passionate, and one like edmund, who is steady and observant, and neither of them afraid to be tender.

"i'm sorry," lucy blubbers.

"shut up," edmund tells her affectionately. "don't be sorry. and put those shrooms away before they, like, soak into your hand or something."

she had been clutching them in her fist as she cries, and she stuffs them now back into her pocket and mutters, "i don't think they work like that," though the truth it she isn't sure.

"do you want to go back?" asks edmund.

"not yet."

"okay. would you mind if i smoke a cigarette?"

"yes."

"okay." so he doesn't, continues to hold her instead.

Re: 2/2

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

*dies* OH LUCY IN ANOTHER LIFE.


Occasionally Edmund forgets that Peter is only human too, so it's a surprise when, during one of Susan and Peter's more and more frequent fights, Peter is the one to break and going slamming out of their rented house. A moment later the car starts and peels out of the driveway. Susan slams the kitchen door closed, and Lucy and Edmund look at each other uncertainly.

None of them see hide nor hair of Peter for five days. Susan's face gets more and more pinched and Lucy looks on the edge of tears. "He hasn't left, has he?" she asks anxiously. "I mean, he wouldn't. He wouldn't just --"

Edmund hugs her, sneaks a look at Susan in the kitchen -- she's blackening something that he's pretty sure isn't meant to be blackened -- and goes out and hotwires a car up the street. He drives around town slowly, trying to spot Peter's car.

He finally finds it outside of Beaver's Tavern, so he parks the stolen car and goes in. It's not hard to find Peter -- his brother stands out anywhere. Peter's in a corner hustling pool.

It's easy to forget that Peter's good at more than just stealing, because he doesn't really encourage the assumption. But his face is narrowed in concentration and he's making a killing, and he may even get out of it wihtout having to break heads, at least as far as Edmund can see.

Edmund gets a beer and doesn't bother trying to approach, content to sit back and try and figure out what the hell his brother has been doing for the past five days. After Peter's made a killing -- because he's good -- Edmund follows him outside, after the appropriate few minutes to make sure he hasn't been made. This is the kind of thing they know how to do.

When he goes outside, though, it's to find Peter trapped between the body of his car and another man, his tongue halfway down Peter's throat.

Well, that's a shock.

Re: 2/2

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

edmund lets lucy drive them home because he still doesn't trust himself to drive stoned, and on the way she babbles abou the time she and christa drove stoned back from smoking at the stop 'n shop parking lot, "and all the cars on the road were, like, going so fast, and we were like, going so fast and we were all what the fuck, crazy speedsters, but then we looked at the speedometer and we were going 25." edmund laughs at all the right places, and she giggles along with him.

they stop at a taco bell drive-through, and while they're inching towards the pick-up window, lucy says, "thanks, ed."

edmund rolls his eyes and says, "whatever, dorkus."

they come back to see susan chain smoking on the steps of the apartment building, with eyes rimmed red and a closed-off look, and lucy thinks, uh-oh.

"where's pete?" edmund asks after a moment's hesitation.

"he's out getting cigarettes," susan replies holllowly.

edmund and lucy exchange glances, then, she ventures, "are you okay?"

"i'm just--" susan begins. then she sighs, and tells them she is fine.

+

lucy puts the shrooms in a plastic baggie and stuffs them in her underwear drawer. she should've done that first thing, but she hadn't exactly been thinking straight coming back from ben's. it had been a split-second decision, after collecting her underwear off his bedroom floor, to open his closet door and wrench with spiteful clumsiness the shrooms he had been cultivating with care all these months. it was just to piss him off, and by the voicemails he's been leaving her, it seems to have worked.

lucy stops checking her voicemail eventually.

Re: 2/2

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

LASS WITH THIS LATEST EDITION WE ARE AT WAIT FOR IT.

30,009 WORDS

i do not know whether to be terrified or what.

meanwhile in wordle (http://www.wordle.net/gallery/wrdl/386013/o11-narnia_au).

that about sums it up, yeah?

1/2 edits

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

UHHHHHHHHHH,AND UP THERE, in the scene during susan's mass cuddle, i want that sentence to be this instead: "someone tries to kiss her, and she kisses back, and slips her hand in their pockets and sighs into their mouths as she steals from them."

OKAY OBV I NEED A NAP