cassandra-acton

[cassandra-acton]

@spencerberkeley [text]

Cassie: If you're thinking of going to that stupid club, then don't. Cassie: And if you're going to be a dumb bitch and do it anyway, then I hope you break your arm again. Cassie: I said what I said.

[cassandra-acton]

@CassieActon: Well, we were being ✨aesthetic bitches✨ until Charles showed up. Then Ms. Tits Out for Jesus (@nora-berkeley) threw up in her own hair, and he fell down the stairs and broke his ankle. Oh, and I accidentally burnt a hole into my fiancé with a sparkler. HAPPY NEW YEAR. WOULDN'T WANT TO SPEND IT ANY OTHER WAY. 🎉🎇 @spencerberkeley @silasagreste

[cassandra-acton]

"You wish I'd wrangle you. And please, don't be thinking about that later when she starts building a wall of luggage between you, and you're all alone."

Of course she was already drunk, and given how many times they'd crossed paths whilst she was in this particular state, he likely knew it. It'd taken her all of two hours after getting to the campsite to achieve ascension.

"I cross my heart promise that I have never felt proud of myself after talking with you, Maks. In fact, I mostly just feel like I need a fucking shower. So glad to know I have one to go back to unless I get relegated to the favelas for headbutting you."

"Relax, gerbil-wrangler. Nobody's trying to touch your chew toy." Oh, he would, twice...or more, depending on the space and stamina: tents were cramped, and he was large...

And while on most occasions he was glad to see Cassie, he knew he was in for whatever mood she decided to take out on him tonight. "Alright, let's hear it. Get it out your system now, so you can dance the night away and feel proud of yourself." his lips tilting, trying to banish the smile.

[cassandra-acton]

@maksimkurylenko Location: Off the beaten track so no one can hear him scream. Time: Friday Night.

"Try to dick her down and I will quite literally snap it off, you fucking gerbil."

[cassandra-acton]

"I THOUGHT WE WERE PAST YOU TRYING TO GET ME OUT OF MY CLOTHES."

When he lunges for her shirt, a struggle absolutely ensues. Cassie is not about to give up on a gift that will undoubtedly keep on giving.

"You're crazy! You look like a crazy person right now," she shrieked, attempting to hit his hands away from her with a flurry of slaps, her eyebrows pulled into a defensive frown. One hand moved to attempt to push him backwards by the chest, the other desperately clinging to the pink masterpiece that was about to be ruined. "You're going to stretch your fucking face and I'll be walking around all weekend like 'get Gideon the Elephant Man laid again'. Nobody is going to sleep with you then!"

'An MP is being assaulted!'

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see some onlookers turning to face them, thanks to the PSA at the top of her lungs, but damn it, just this minute he doesn't care. Doesn't care how it looks, or that he's meant to be the image of peace and hospitality, given this whole thing is happening on his family's lands.

No such thing as peace where Cassandra bloody Acton's concerned.

He releases her wrist, alright. But only to grab hold of her t-shirt with both hands.

Mercilessly, he starts to yank. "YES, Cassie!! Yes!... You're supposed to-" He tugs, they struggle, he nearly has it over the scratchy fabric of her overalls, but for the obstacle of her waving arms. "- To say – fucking – no!"

[cassandra-acton]

Wah, wah, wah. Life is so hard! I'm so privileged! Such a princess I don't even have flat shoes!

No wonder she was friends with Lara. Jesus Christ.

"Catalina, there's people that are dying."

@mobscene-starters

"Fucking....shiiiit..." Catalina drawled as she walked through the campsite, the spike of her heels sinking into the ground with every step she took. She'd grown up extremely privledged and neither of her parents were ever keen on the outdoors unless it was on a yacht somwhere with a full staff.

Still, it was a Rutherford event and she considered herself an honorary part of the family having grown up with Lara and Adriana. So...here she was. She would plaster a smile on her face, snort some coke, and everything would be copacetic.

Even in a luxury tent, she was out of her element. The outdoors wasn't really her thing. She'd much rather have been in her bathtub, soaking in a hot bath and not having to deal with people she didn't want to fuck with. Her tent mate included.

"I would change shoes...but I didn't bring flats. I don't even think I own a pair. And that's saying something because my closet is huge."

[cassandra-acton]

Oh shit. Cassie had spotted him coming, but by the time she'd started running away from him, even if at speed, he'd managed to catch up and grab a hold of her.

"Okay, whoa, whoa, hold on—" the blonde began, using her free hand to point at her wrist dramatically, "—this is assault. An MP is being assaulted!"

Even though she obviously wasn't serious, her tone suggested otherwise, and Cassie quickly noted that her shouting had attracted the attention of some onlookers confused by the situation unfolding. The blonde's eyebrows shot up, giving him a questioning look. This was a charity event, wasn't it? There was nothing to say they couldn't do work for the kids, and his helpless ass...

"Spencer made mine pink especially. What was I supposed to do, say no?"

LOCATION — The Rutherford Estate, Kingston Upon Thames. DATE — October 25, 2024. STARTER — closed for @cassandra-acton

The instant blooming migraine that strikes as soon as he catches sight of Cassandra – or rather specifically, her choice of shirt – is the first hint of how the rest of his evening is about to go down. He's lightning quick to find her, grab her wrist, and yank her away from the main tent before she might think to enter it.

"Fucking take that thing off... Now."

[cassandra-acton]

@CassieActon: Fashun. @drrutherford @spencerberkeley

[cassandra-acton]

Cassie: YOU LOVE ME, FÉLIX. 😘 Cassie: Even typed it in all caps so he can see it through the cataracts. Tell him I said you're welcome. Cassie: Perfect. I'm bringing gin. Nora is bringing Bacardi. Jess will probably bring one of each. Cassie: We'll have a good time, I promise. 💛

Yvonne: I'm in. Yvonne: The pensioner was reading over my shoulder and made a grunt of disapproval. Yvonne: But he's reading a physical newspaper with reading glasses. So really, he's just proving you right. Yvonne: I'll bring the tequila.

[cassandra-acton]

@yvonne-rutherford [text]

Cassie: Okay, we're all meeting up for drinks before we head to the estate Friday night. Cassie: Kind of seems like being a bit drunk beforehand might be good for the soul? Cassie: Old man isn't invited. Cassie: But Spencer and Silas aren't, either, so they can hang out together and do whatever old men do, idk. Read a newspaper or something. Whatever. Cassie: DRINKS. INVITED.

[cassandra-acton]

Top 3 hate fucks

Andrew Rutherford

Johnathan Parsons

Maksim Kurylenko

[cassandra-acton]

"I don't care. I do not care. Take it to Laura." "You should try caring. Just try it. You might like it." "Eric fuck off. I don't have time for this right now." "Make time." "I'm going to make time to put your tie through the shredder—" "This is Hermès." "Yes, which does wonders for our 'connecting with the normal people' image, by the way. How about we care about that for a second. Look, I'm caring."

They were doing their daily 'sniping at each other whilst walking through the corridors of Parliament' West Wing impression. Even though he drove her up the wall every second of every single day, she loved him dearly, and was immensely grateful that she could still cling to this sense of normality amongst the turmoil that'd gripped the two Houses since Spencer had been hospitalised. Some semblance of their old routines was all they could hold on to, to keep this from spiralling any further out of control.

Before her communications director could once again interject with some sassy Welsh comeback, she was saved by the sight of Félix approaching in an almost-head on collision. Thank God. The blonde couldn't have looked any more relieved if she tried.

"Oh, I absolutely care about coffee," Cassie responded, more for Eric's benefit than Félix's, but a quick break with the MP would do wonders to reset her brain function after arguing with the toddler huffing out a 'fine' behind them. It would also set her up nicely for her committee meeting later that afternoon. "You're my hero, truly. I know a solid little café about a five minute walk from here. It'll change your life. Whisk me away quickly before he drags me back to the Treasury and chains me there."

Location: Parliament

@cassandra-acton

Félix yawned and looked down at his watch. A newborn and Parliament weren't exactly what he would call compatible. Especially not with the increase of tension since the shooting. Turns out when the Foreign Secretary is fucking shot, it causes a shit ton of paperwork, stress, and inquiries for everyone else. Who would have guessed?

Thirty minutes. That was enough to step out of parliament and grab an extra large cup of coffee. Or whatever it was Starbucks called it. His phone buzzed and he unlocked it to see a new text from Yvonne with a picture of Isabel sleeping against her chest. A smile spread across his lips as he typed out a quick response, looking up just in time to stop short of literally running into Cassandra Acton in the process.

"Cassie, it's good to see you. I have a thirty minute break in my unending meetings and I need actual coffee, not whatever's been in those coffee makers they try to pass off as coffee. Want to join me? I have new baby pictures I haven't already shoved in your face."

[cassandra-acton]

"Don't. Don't look at me like that."

It was a wasted effort. Cassie had long since detached from the idea of there being a human being underneath her perfect fucking exterior.

"The Foreign Secretary, my best fucking friend, is on his death bed. Half the people in here right now are French. Forgive me for hedging my bets and assuming either might find one of those outcomes convenient enough to work for it."

Perhaps she should've avoided creating a scene. Perhaps, had her sister arrived already, Cassie would've done a better job at keeping her mouth shut and playing the mourning politician. As it were, her initial shock had subsided into anger, and to see the apologist step up to attempt to calm her down did nothing but worsen said rage.

"Do you know it's not one of them? Because if you don't, I literally couldn't give less of a shit what you have to say about the conclusions I'm drawing."

For a moment, Lyudmila watched her friend disappear from view, exhaling a shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding throughout their tense conversation. She bit down on the inside of her lip, chewing on pieces of skin — a nervous habit triggered by anxiety — as her eyes began to sting.

Her thoughts raced. Maybe that was why she failed to notice the approaching footsteps. Though she had been trained to grow a thick skin, with decades of professional experience ignoring slander, defamation, or rumors from anyone, nothing had prepared her for the sight of another friend in distress, fighting for his life. And now, the reporters' words were beginning to gnaw at her.

'Is this an attempt by your father to suppress anti-Russian sentiment in British politics?'

Perhaps that was why she didn’t notice the footsteps coming closer.

Could it be? The Conservatives were always outspoken against Russians. No, he would never stoop to something like this, just to silence a few populists.

'Rumors about HCA involvement?'

Maybe that’s why she didn’t notice the footsteps.

Even if they were involved, it wouldn’t involve him... right?

As logical and analytical as she was, always seeking reasons and solutions, Lyudmila wanted to believe this was simply a case of bad luck — wrong place, wrong time.

'Is this an attempt by your father to suppress anti-Russian sentiment in British politics?'

The sudden interruption broke her train of thought, making her snap her head towards the voice. It took a moment for her to return to reality and see Cassandra Acton — once a very close friend — standing before her with a look of pure disdain.

'Your father or your husband?'

Lyudmila's initial confusion shifted to a softened, almost pleading expression. "Cassie..." she sighed. No matter how many times she tried to explain, reason, or plead, nothing seemed to reach Cassandra. Even though Lyudmila had never felt the weight of guilt after Harrison's death, it never became easier to meet Cassandra's eyes. "You can't seriously think this is connected. Please, not here."

[cassandra-acton]

@milaxkorshunova Location: St. Catherine's Hospital. Date: 22/8/24. Early hours post-shooting.

The woman had, at least, waited.

Nora was struggling enough with the night's events without witnessing Cassie rounding on someone she still, for some unknown fucking reason, considered a friend. But she had needed a moment, post-conversation, and had disappeared a minute prior somewhere in the direction of the exit. There went her safety net. The politician was unlikely the person Lyudmila wanted to fill the void left in Berkeley's absence, but she didn't fucking care. If they weren't in public, it would've been even less civilised.

She must've known about Spencer after talking with Nora. She must've known how many people were already dead.

"So, who was it this time? Your father or your husband?"

[cassandra-acton]

[voicemail from whatever a week before the Italian Fest was]: Hey, Cass. I’m going to be in London next week and I don’t care how busy wedding planning has you, I need Casse time. Or I’ll cause an international incident and it’ll be all your fault. Love you!

[cassandra-acton]

"I ate so much cannoli earlier I literally threw up. Not really the taste of Italy I was going for, but at least now I'll stop buying them on the way to work."

It was also the reason Silas had stopped letting her sit on his shoulders to get a better view of the stage. 'til death do them part, but God forbid she projectile vomit down his nerd shirt. Save for regular trips to the bar, the politician had been dancing from the moment the first act had taken to the stage, and she damn well needed a rest.

"I will be sure to drink for the both of us, mama, don't you worry," she semi-teased, slumping into the seat next to her and narrowly avoiding spilling the contents of the two plastic champagne-style cups in her hand in the process. "I bet the little bean is having a party of their own in there. Pizza and a concert. You holding up okay?"

Location: Primrose Hill British-Italian Music Festival Date: July 20, 2024

@mobscene-starters

Truthfully, the pizza had been on Yvonne's mind since the moment she arrived. The tantalizing aroma wafted over the stale beer and spirits until it was the only thought in her mind. Maybe this was Yvonne's own craving, but if you asked, it was the baby's.

She almost groaned in relief as she sat down and took the pressure off of her feet. Truthfully, she was ready for the baby to be out, if only to give her lungs, back, and bladder a break. She had long since passed the point of being able to see her feet, and even bending down to pick things up was nearly impossible. Grabbing a slice of the pizza in front of her, Yvonne took a bite and let her eyes drift shut in satisfaction.

"This pizza almost makes up for the fact that I can't drink."

[cassandra-acton]

@CassieActon: Example #384 why I'm the public's favourite half of this relationship. Imagine being so petty in your anti-football nature, you show up to the Euros party in an England rugby shirt. Smh. It's coming home, you bitter ass bitch, and you're no longer invited to the after party. 😘😘 @silasagreste