#it ain’t going well chiefs 😂 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dujour13 · 1 year

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"♔ : Finding the other wearing their clothes"?

Thanks for this one 😂💕 Somebody had to do it to them. Diplomacy check time.

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In truth, Siavash was enjoying this little game with Queen Galfrey.

Walking the fine edge of plausible deniability, he had received the Chelaxian delegation in an Andoren-cut flared jacket, cummerbund and high boots, but not in the national navy blue and gold, because faced with such an open display of patriotism the Cheliaxians would have turned right back around and cut off aid to the Crusade. Instead he showed up in his own personal color scheme.

They got the message.

He was Knight-Commander of the Fifth Crusade and de facto leader of the reclaimed territories around Drezen, not Mendev’s lackey, nor—publicly at least—an Andoren agent. A new force, drawing inspiration from Andoren ideals of liberty and egalitarianism, yet leading the way boldly, colorfully, against the black corruption of the Worldwound.

Hence the Queen’s subsequent “gift” of formal wear in crimson and white Mendevian brocade: a plausibly deniable order from the Queen to cease and desist.

Which he would pretend to misunderstand until the mounting tension between them forced a confrontation and he declared independence. In the meantime, the Queen’s gift was collecting dust in his armoire.

Until this moment.

As a result of a little mishap involving Aivu and a glass of fruit juice in the middle of a Military Council meeting, he had to make an unexpected trip back to his chambers, and hurriedly he threw open the door and began scanning the floor for a reasonably clean replacement for his soaked shirt, until his mind registered what he had just seen.

Like a spooked deer Woljif stood frozen.

The frock coat was too wide around the shoulders and the cuffs hung to his knuckles, but the crimson set off his skin tone nicely and the casually elegant pose he had struck worked rather well for him, Siavash thought.

The urge to laugh—not at Woljif, oh dear no, just at the situation—almost overcame him.

“Nice, isn’t it?” he managed to say casually, scooping up a shirt and sniffing it, discarding it and selecting another.

Woljif didn’t answer. His tail had begun to twitch.

“We can get it taken in if you want. I’m not going to wear it.”

“N-nah, I was just givin’ it the eyeball, see if I can figure out how much it’s worth.”

“Really, take it. It looks good on you.”

“Oh. Yeah?”

A lot of the tension in the air seemed to subside. Between silk coattails Woljif’s tail relaxed.

Throwing off his wet shirt, Siavash came and stood by him, looking him over in the mirror. “I mean, the Iomedean colors are a statement I’m not sure you want to make, but the style certainly suits you.”

Woljif turned back to the mirror and rolled the cuffs up an inch. “Maybe somethin’ like this in black. Daeran says I should wear black.”

“I don’t know. The crimson looks stunning on your skin.” His knuckles breezed across Woljif’s uplifted cheek.

“Yeah, I guess it does. Maybe I should make an investment.”

“You should.” Siavash trailed a hand down his back. “You look handsome. Distinguished.”

“Don’t you go diplomattin’ me. I been called a lotta things, but distinguished ain’t one of ‘em.” Woljif’s eyes narrowed. “You ain’t pullin’ my tail now, are you chief?”

“Never. At least—not about this.”

Fidgeting with the cuffs again he turned from the mirror to face him. “I uh—I wasn’t really gonna pawn this off.”

“I know.”

Slowly a smile grew between them, one that said, You can lie to me anytime you want.

“I have to get back to the Military Council.”

Woljif pulled a shirt down from the dressing screen. “This one’s clean.”

“Thanks.”

On his way out, Siavash turned on the threshold. “When I get back?”

“I’ll keep it on.”

#thanks for the prompt!!#starlightcleric #siavash x woljif #pwotr pals

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basilone · 3 years

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72. Mischief Managed for Ron and Darlene

*insert evil laugh here*

You had to do it, huh. You just took one look at all my complaints about Darlene and said “you know what, let’s give Eva a good time and have her write this girl who just won’t shut up”.. 😂 I can’t even be mad about this because I do love her despite my grumblings, and because this dynamic is just one hell of a *chef’s kiss* to me.

If anybody later claims that she was spoiling for this fight to happen, angling for this girl to cross the line mid-argument just enough so she could land the first punch, prodding and poking at the embers of some fire burning bright in her belly all the while, she’s going to laugh it off and snarl that the other one started it – started it with those damn comments about Lottie, who ain’t here to defend herself, and about Darlene herself, never one for propriety and somehow offending some kind of delicate sensibility merely through existing in this space – and that girl fucking good and well deserved to get her ass beat.

She’s laughing up a riot mid-fight, pausing just long enough to knock back another drink, signalling “come at me” with every cocky jut of her hips and her come-hither gestures kept at the same level like that because all battles are based in the gut, sweeping her hair back and grinning like the damn fool her mama always told her she is, and she’s about to clean house now that even the RAF fellas have stepped back and everybody knows it too because there come the first complaints – “really, Darlene, she’s had enough” and “Darlene, give it a rest” chief among ’em – and her booming laugh exalts in this space until it turns just a little hoarse, just a little throaty, just a little too provocative and she almost catches a glass to the face for her troubles.

She’s snarling, then, and about to leap atop the offending party and give ’em what for, but then there is one strong arm at her waist that lifts her clear off the floor like she weighs absolutely nothing at all, like she ain’t steady on her feet whatsoever, and she’s struggling in the tight grip and scrambling to get a hold of whoever’s dragging her out off the floor and into the cold night air and making her kick up some kind of almighty fuss of “lemme go ah ain’t done lemme get at her ah gotta ah have ta –” and then there’s a voice at her ear, low and insistent, laced through with command that makes her shiver and sets her bones a-quakin’ with the tone he takes with her like she ain’t earned any points in his book yet.

And he’s the kinda man to keep a book like that, ain’t he, because he’s all glowering down at her when she finally gets a good look at him and he don’t smile easy at all, she can tell that much about him when he sets her down on her feet outside, but there’s some flicker of amusement when she bites a “fuck you too, sir” at him before she can good and well stop her mouth from betraying her disrespect, something of interest in the way he ducks his head and lights a cigarette that she wants to pilfer off him as soon as the smoke curls into her nostrils, and something of a fight brewing in the quirk of his mouth and the later upward tilt of his head as he eyes her and asks her if she’s done causing mischief now like he’s the demanding type used to gettin’ his way with everything.

She laughs anew, fire burning hot in her veins, flames licking her insides until they fan out and leave her trembling with something of longing, and she knows her eyes spark some sort of challenge because he steps almost toe to toe with her at its appearance and then it’s only a real short distance between her mouth and his ear when she murmurs a “wanna manage this mischief, sir, until ah’m done causin’ it?” in that space between them like she knows full well what she’s doing – and doesn’t she just, when his eyes darken and she knows she’s got him and he’s better than any goddamn pub brawl when he crowds her up against the wall and he weaves strands of her hair between his fingers until he can tug her head back – and then it’s only a shorter distance between their lips that he crosses just as she snarls out “or ain’t ya got the guts” and well fuck he might just be the only fella on any side of the Atlantic that can make her eat her words just like that..

#ronald speirs #oc: darlene #ron x darlene #we can have a troublemaker OC as a treat!#as far as character intros go this would be the top notch one #please ignore that I already wrote her on this blog before #this is Darlene to a t right here #serasvictoria #five sentence fics #basilonefic #writing20202021

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elliebartlets · 5 years

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Well...I don’t really know what I think about this episode, but I did just spend like a half hour catching up on US-Cuba relations (because I’m a dumbass and only knew about the relation in very broad terms) so this episode got me reading about history which never happens lol

anyway Leo meeting with Castro? Fidel Castro? Is that even fucking possible? Like obviously yeah cause it happened but like....what even is his title now? He ain’t chief of staff no more, he can’t be that high up to be able to meet with the Cuban dictator. And I feel like no matter how much Bartlet trusts him to go, Castro wouldn’t wanna meet with him. But that’s just me.

The whole thing with Kate was just weird. I get that she’s CIA so a lot of her past is classified, but I wish they explained her backstory a little better because I really like Kate.

And that whole thing with Kate and Leo at the end was also weird. where’d she get the black eye from? her ex husband? why was she in Florida the same time as Leo? Was she like spying on him? this whole episode is so damn ambiguous

EXCEPT MY FAVORITE PART WAS THEM BRING BACK MARGARET’S FORGING SKILLS 😂😂

#the west wing #tww #ninety miles away #kate harper #leo mcgarry

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