#AS PER THE EUGE

[aerodaltonimperial]

Hook is trying to get Danhausen to notice him, see if the interest is mutual because sometimes it seems like it might be? And Hook is like, really, really trying. The boy is COMMITED to the cause. It starts off subtle, but Danhausen seems to just take everything Hook is trying to do in the friendliest way possible. Until Hook makes a last ditched effort, maybe his heart is barely in this last one, just doing it so he can say he tried everything he can think of, and then, a wild Whorehausen appears.

(I am literally on an unstoppable Ricky Starks agenda, I cannot be contained.)

Okay, he didn't think this was going to be so hard. Hook knows how this works; he's been down this road before, and he's never had a problem. In fact, he's really rarely had to work at this at all, and that's why he's sitting on the ground with an unopened, uneaten bag of chips in his lap, glaring at his Converse when Ricky finds him.

"You look like you're trying to blow the world up with just the power of your mind," Ricky says. Helpful. Hook glares at him. Ricky, as usual, ignores it, and settles down on the grimy floor tiles next to him. "Why so glum?"

"Nothing," Hook grumbles.

"That face doesn't say nothing. Spill."

Hook sniffs, rubs a hand against his nose. He debates refusing mostly out of pride, but it probably can't get any worse than it already is, and besides, Ricky won't judge him, right? He sucks in one deep breath, and then another, and finally says, "I like someone."

"My condolences," Ricky replies.

Hook kicks at the man's foot, annoyed. "I'm being serious."

"So am I. Sounds like hell. What's the problem?"

"It's not...working," Hook says, lame. He is so, so aware of how lame he sounds.

Ricky frowns. "I need more information."

"I don't...they aren't..." Hook growls, frustrated, and runs a hand through his hair. "I don't think they get it."

"Oh, a dense one." Ricky laughs, finding too much joy in Hook's misery. "Well, just make it more obvious. Seems like the easiest choice, doesn't it? Who are we talking about, anyway? We may need to adjust accordingly."

Hook glares at the chip bag, teeth clenched.

"Yo, I need some deets here," Ricky says.

Hook crunches the chips between his hands.

"Hook, I need--" Ricky frowns. Narrows his eyes. Looks from the bag of ruined chips up to Hook's face and back down again. "You can't be serious."

"Stop," Hook replies, plaintive and reedy.

"Really? Really?"

"Don't judge me, Starks, I swear to god."

Ricky laughs, but it seems good-natured and that's probably as good as Hook will get. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. We can do this. You can do this."

"But I don't know how." He's whining, and holy shit, his dad would probably smack him if he could see how low he's sunk.

Ricky leans in, eyes bright. "Don't worry--I'm an expert at flirting. You, kid, are in the right hands."

++

Hook is not in the right hands.

Ricky tells him to work with body language--"Because people respond to the way you carry yourself, you know?"--and to get closer, minimize the distance between them. Hook thinks, well, okay, not a bad plan; he tends to stay a few feet away from everyone as the default. Surely, this will be an obvious shift.

Hook waits until the Best Friends are wasting time, sitting around until their match comes up. Then he sidles up to Danhausen, drawing close enough for their sleeves to brush.

"Ah, yes, hello Danhausen’s very good friend Hook," Danhausen says, giving him a single glance and a smile before going back to his conversation with Chuck and Trent. Nothing.

He waits a minute or two, then knocks their shoulders together.

Danhausen just pats his elbow without missing a beat.

Hook glares over his shoulder at Ricky, half-hidden behind the hallway corner, who sighs and shakes his head.

++

"Okay, new plan," Ricky says. "How about gifts?"

"Gifts?" Hook returns, already weary of this.

"It's a love language, man. You should read the book--whatever, not important. Give him gifts. He did that with you, right? The chips? And it seemed to work."

"Did not," Hook grumbles, but fuck, Ricky’s right.

++

He offers Danhausen a drink from the vending machine, and gets a simple thanks. Then he tries with a bag of chips, figuring it's more meaningful, and gets another neutral thanks around crunching. Then he decides the snacks aren't working.

His next try is a t-shirt he found in a little mall pop-up that reminded him of Danhausen. He presents it with both hands.

"Oh!" Danhausen says. "Oh, this is very nice!" He seems way more excited, and Hook thinks aha, he gets it!" And then: "Hook is such a considerate friend!"

He turns, chattering about the shirt, and Hook thinks he might tunnel straight down through the ground to the other side of the world.

++

"This is harder than I anticipated," Ricky admits.

"What do I do?" Hook complains. "Maybe he isn't interested."

"No, no, he is. I can feel it. No one puts that much time and effort into courting someone just for a tag match."

"He was trying to curse me," Hook says, but he sighs and resigns himself to more instructions.

++

Ricky tells him to amp up the physical displays. Hook finds Danhausen in the backstage area and throws his arm over the man's shoulders, afraid he might throw up if Danhausen shakes him off. Danhausen doesn't, but he also fails to really react. He pats Hook’s hand fondly, and that's that.

So then Hook waits until Danhausen sits down against the wall and plops down next to him to tip his head against Danhausen’s arm, curling in.

"Oh, is Hook tired?" Danhausen asks, maddeningly unfazed. "Maybe he should go to sleep earlier tonight. After all, it's been a busy week."

Hook thinks he might want to punch Danhausen instead.

++

"This isn't going to work," Hook moans, four beers deep into the night and resoundly despondent. "He isn't interested."

"Have some faith!" Ricky says, like it isn't the most personal and soul-destroying thing Hook has ever done to hold his heart out for the taking. "We'll find the right way. You could train together again!"

"How will that help anything?"

Ricky shrugs. "Sweaty, shirtless, close contact: honestly, Hook, think outside the box a little here."

++

He invites Danhausen to train together. Then he gets too nervous to do anything useful and stays on the treadmill the whole time, terrified and gross. So he has to try again and pick another day with more specific instructions of ring training, mostly to keep himself from panicking out the door.

"Hook is very good at suplexing," Danhausen says. Its such a good opening, Hook grabs him around the waist and flips them both, ending up above the other with his palms pressed into the mat.

They stare at each other. Hook's heart flies up to his throat. This is it, this is it--

Danhausen smiles wide. "What a great move! Hook is such a wonderful friend to teach Danhausen his secret wrestling tricks!"

Hook is going to throw himself off a damn cliff.

++

"Netflix and chill?" Ricky suggests.

"We watched four hours of Mythbusters without touching once," Hook replies.

"Dinner date."

Hook wants to jam a knife in his temple. "I let him pick the restaurant and we ended up at McDonalds."

"Jesus Christ," Ricky sighs.

++

Hook wipes his palms on his sweats. He's so damn nervous. He's afraid to get punched, and is doubly afraid of getting rejected.

("This will work!" Ricky had promised. "There's no way to miss the implications here!")

Hook tracks Danhausen down in the locker room. There aren't many people there, but he's in a conversation with Orange Cassidy, and Hook figures he has to just suck it up and go. Puts his whole fucking dignity on the line.

He walks up to Danhausen’s side, reaches over with trembling fingers, and grabs the man's hand. Squeezes.

"Hello, Hook!" Danhausen says, smiling. "Do you wish for Danhausen to follow you somewhere?"

"Oh my god," Hook moans, dropping Danhausen's fingers and stalking out the door again.

++

He is miserable. He is anguished. He is trapped in a hell of his own making, ignored through the most effort he has ever tried to put into anything before. Hook absolutely, positively cannot live like this anymore.

He stomps up to Danhausen’s hotel room door and doesn't even knock, just sort of slams his hand against the wood over and over and over until the man opens it.

Then he leans in, index finger extended, sparking and growling. "You!"

"Me?" Danhausen asks, eyebrows high. "What did I do?"

"You let me go on and on and on, for what, amusement?" Hook says. Demands. "Do you think this is funny? Am I something you laugh about at night?"

Danhausen’s expression morphs, mouth turning down. "What?"

"Couldn't you just have told me no? That you weren't interested? Instead of letting me make an idiot of myself for weeks and weeks?"

"Danhausen doesn't--"

"Well, I'm done!" Hook says, pissed. "I am so done here. I hope you've had your fun."

"Fun?" Danhausen repeats. His eyes are good and wide, incredulous and...confused?

"I fucking love you, you fucking asshole," Hook says, and hates himself for it.

Silence. Hook's heart is going to burst straight out of his chest, shattering his ribcage. Danhausen stares at him, and Hook stares back, and nothing in the hallway so much as moves.

And then, inch by inch, Danhausen’s expression opens up. His lips twist up. His eyes narrow, smooth, glimmer. One hand whips out to grab Hook’s hoodie strings and jerk him forward.

"Mmph--!" is about all Hook gets out before Danhausen’s mouth is pressed against his, limbs wrapping around his body like an octopus, and he's unceremoniously pulled through the doorway.

++

"Please, no details," Ricky says, throwing his drink back. "Like, literally never give me details. Stop. Stop, your face is giving me details--Hook, I swear to god, wipe that smug-ass smirk off your mouth, I cannot know this and sleep at night, stop--"

[sphnyspinspin]

The funniest thing just happened to me as of recently.

I was scrolling through ao3 as per euge~ and I came across the ship tag known as First Aid/Vortex. I was like, “Oh yeah, the nurse guy and the unstable helicopter guy, yeah I could see that-“ then it hit me.

First Aid is an ambulance who’s an empathetic and compassionate doctor with blue optics/visor. Vortex is an insane helicopter maniac who has magnetic capabilities in FOC(from TFwiki states is from Aligned)and has an ‘x’ at the end of his name.

You don’t think…

First Aid + Vortex = Medix

Oh my god. Ooooooh my god. Oh no no nononono no-oh my gawd. I need to reevaluatesomelifechoicesatthemomentjusthangon-

Medix……Medix is going to be a uh, a uh, sparkling-conceived by Vortex and First Aid, and and they both weren’t ready for a baby. So uh they um, they put him up for adoooption and he got adopted by a dude, who traveled t-to Junkion and like, left or something, leaving Medix alone to be raised by the community. Afterwards, he eventually gwoess back to cybertwon and like First Aid’s like instincts kick in and like recognizes the itty bitty baby boy and like there’s gonna be angst-SO MUCH AAAANGST!!

I’m gonna twaumatize de sit outta dis tid.

mua ha ha ha.

Bare witness to my discovery @asmoteeth @magically-maddie @sonia-aquamarineson @sonicnerd @novafire-is-thinking @geluatekurama

[missannetropic]

Breve prefacio de un largo camino

Hace algunos meses el hastío del desierto donde me fue dado nacer, un cierto sentimiento de vacío propio de quien atraviesa la vida sin un proyecto del todo claro, y la tenacidad de mi amigo indio Harshil, que por encontrarse en Europa encontró apropiado el escenario para un reencuentro tras seis años sin vernos, me empujaron a embarcarme en una nueva aventura.

La intención inicial era clara: moverme, cambiar de contexto, salir a que la lluvia me moje, a que la vida me pase. La forma, por el contrario, fue revelándose de a poco.

Para abril ya era un hecho que iba a emprender el Camino de Santiago con la Euge, la madre de mi hermano del alma. Para mayo se sumó mi madre, lo que aportó una no pequeña dosis de incertidumbre y cierta ansiedad, pues mi abuela -su madre- parecía estar cerca de un final que se ocupó de vaticinar durante más de quince años. Para junio, la profecía se cumplió: "nena, este año me voy sin falta", le había dicho a mi madre a principios de enero. Si bien su partida nos dio paz, porque ya estaba viejita y cansada, al mismo tiempo abrió un espacio simbólico complejo: era la última de mis abuelos, el bastión de la resistencia de una generación, la línea de fuego contra la muerte. Perderla fue perder terreno, retroceder un paso en la inicua batalla, quedar cada vez más expuestos.

Así fue como después de despedirla partí hacia la tierra de sus ancestros -con un largo duelo a medias y la confusión propia de la pérdida- en busca de algo de sentido y, por qué no, de mi propio camino. Me lancé como de costumbre, sin dar muchas vueltas ni pensarlo del todo. "Vos primero entras y después te fijas si hay un escalón" siempre me dice mi madre, y esta vez no fue la excepción.

Como mi faz espiritual no estaba en su mejor momento -secuelas de una vida forzadamente ecuménica- decidí jugar a la segura y utilizar el camino más directo a mí corazón: mi cabeza. Me autoseduje con un libro de Garrido sobre el camino, que devoré en el vuelo de ida. Así aprendí que Santiago no se llamaba así sino probablemente Yago o Iaco (también escrito Jaco). Luego, con el agregado del título de santidad pasó a llamarse Sant Yago o Sant Jaco (en francés Sant Jaques, en inglés Sant James) y de ahí a Santiago o San Jacobo. También aprendí que era hermano del discipulo preferido, Juan el evangelista, y que era tremendo impulsivo, por eso tras la muerte de Cristo se subió a un barco en el puerto de Jaffa, cruzó el Mar Mediterráneo y se fue a predicar al último confín del mundo conocido, mas precisamente a la ciudad de Irina Flavia, cerca de la actual Compostela. Estuvo allí unos años hasta que volvió a Jerusalén, donde siguió predicando hasta que le cortaron la cabeza. Luego, dos de sus discípulos lo llevaron de vuelta a Irina Flavia para enterrarlo allí, movimiento que se conoce como "translatio". En el siglo IX, bajo el reinado de Alfonso II se descubrió su tumba y se mandó a construir la catedral en Compostela. A partir de entonces, fieles de toda Europa comenzaron a peregrinar para rendir culto a las exequias del apóstol. Para ese entonces, España se encontraba dividida en dos: el norte católico en poder del rey y el sur musulmán en poder de los moros. En ese contexto, se proclamó a Santiago patrón de España y se erigió su figura como defensor del rey en la guerra contra los moros. Al lograr la expulsión y consolidarse el reino, el culto a Santiago se robusteció aún más. Asimismo, al tratarse de los restos de un apóstol, atrajo peregrinos de todas partes, principalmente de Francia, Italia, Inglaterra y Flandes. Tras siglos de peregrinaciones, el camino comienzó a perder atractivo, hasta que en los años 70' las asociaciones de amigos del camino, las cofradías dedicadas al santo y un grupo de entusiastas voluntarios comenzó a rehabilitar la traza del denominado camino francés. El principal referente del movimiento fue el padre Elías Viñuela, quien comenzó a pintar flechas indicativas de la ruta, para que los peregrinos no se perdieran. Las pintó con pintura amarilla, sobrante de aquella que usaba vialidad para pintar la calzada. Así fue como el camino comenzó a renacer. Luego, de la muerte de Franco, con la creación de las Comunidades Autónomas, se sumó la nueva Xunta de Galicia, quien comenzó a impulsar la rehabilitación del camino desde la gestión civil. Así se restauró el camino portugues, el primitivo, el andaluz o mozarabe, el inglés, y se siguió mejorando el ya restaurado camino francés. Los mayores progresos se dieron en los llamados años santos o Xacobeos (aquellos en los cuales el día 25 de julio cae domingo), pues como consecuencia del otorgamiento de indulgencias plenarias a los peregrinos que hicieran más de 100km caminando (es decir, aquellos que obtuvieran la compostela o certificado de peregrinación), eran los años en los que se recibía mas fieles.

Todos estos datos me flashearon y me ayudaron a prepararme para lo que iba a venir. Sin embargo, todavía no termino de entender qué vine a buscar, ni qué espero encontrar. Sí sé, por el contrario, que nunca me había sentido más abierta a recibir de la vida lo que me quiera dar.

Veremos qué nos depara el camino.

[imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper]

I'm placing my bets now

The LOTR fandom either won't find the poll or won't care leading to Gonzo having a landslide victory Eda and Bill's poll will either go largely unnoticed or become a target of hot debate between old and new tumblr users either way Eda will eventually come out on top I will be campaigning my ass off for Eugene as per usual but it depends largely on which fandom finds it first and cares more so Euge vs LP is largely a 50/50 crapshoot People will be losing their absolute shit over the the Jed vs Ock poll and someone will come up with the bright idea to try to tie it 50/50 but Jed will still win

Everyone is going to be hating on Crowley in the notes of the Crowley vs Pinky poll because everyone really fucking loves that rat afkhdjfak somehow Crowley will still hopefully win? Sleeper build on that one honestly it depends on if or not the massive fucking good omens fandom finds it/cares but yeah people will really lose their shit over that one

[goldinvest-edelmetalle]

Erst die Person, dann die Partei, dann das Land

Von der Leyen für weitere 5 Jahre an der EU-Spitze

Trotz all ihrer Verfehlungen und Gesetzesbrüche wurde sie von den vollversorgten EU-Abgeordneten mit deutlicher Mehrheit im Amt bestätigt.

Erst am Vortag der Wahl hatte das Gericht der Europäischen Union (EuG), (Urt. v. 17.07.2024, Az. T-689/21, T-761/21) entschieden, dass mit der Geheimhaltung von Informationen zu milliardenschweren Corona-Impfstoffverträgen gegen EU-Recht verstoßen wurde. Frau vdL hatte die Verträge u.a. mit dem amerikanischen Pfizer-Boss per SMS abgeschlossen. Sehr zum Vorteil des Pharmariesen, wurde dem die Haftung für sein Produkt erlassen. Das Haftungsrisiko für einen Hersteller ist die wohl wirksamste Norm zum Verbraucher — hier Patientenschutz.

Weiter Ermittlungen gegen die Dame persönlich, wurden von der belgischen Staatsanwaltschaft wegen der bevorstehenden Wahl bereit im Juni 2024 bis Dezember 2024 ausgesetzt. Posten geht vor Recht. Da sie nun weitere Immunität besitzt und mglw. auch Einfluss auf die Justiz hat, wer weiß was dabei rauskommen kann.

Auch ihr oftmals autoritäres Vorgehen gegen Abweichler unter den Mitgliedsstaaten und Regierungschefs der EU ist legendär. So traf mehrfach und zuletzt wegen seiner Besuche in Moskau, Peking und bei Trump der Bannstrahl der Chefin. Neue Qualität: Der von ihr im Alleingang erlassene Boykott seiner Ratspräsidentschaft. Ausdenken kann man sich in demokratischer Umgebung so eine Selbstermächtigung zur Unterdrückung anderer Haltungen nicht.

Das sich nun irgendetwas ändert, was dem Willen der mehrheitlichen Bevölkerung in Europa entspricht, wer mag daran noch glauben. Migration, Schuldenausweitung, Meinungsdiktatur oder Verbot kritischer Medien, Zensur von Internet und Sozial Media, Verbot von Verbrennermotoren…alles wie gehabt.

Um ihren Posten zu retten hat sie viele Versprechungen von ganz Links, über Grün, Rot bis ganz Rechts gemacht. Na und, wie will man schon bekommen was versprochen ist. Versprechen ist menschlich.

Jegliche Beraterfirmen, Lobbyisten Verbände, Pharmariesen und Waffenschmieden jubeln.

Um die Wahl abzusichern, versprach sie u.a. das von der EU für 2025 erlassene Verbrennerverbot (Kfz mit Verbrennungsmotoren) zu kippen. Im Autoland DE, wo europaweit die meisten Autos entwickelt und produziert werden, also auch die meisten Arbeitsplätze daran hängen, kam das gut an. Ihre CDU promotete das Thema euphorisch und sammelte damit Zusatzprozente.

Nun hatte Uschi zwischen Europawahl und Inthronisierung wegen ihrer massenweise Mauscheleien aber selbst in den eigenen Reihen so viel Gegenwind, dass sie hinter den Kulissen eifrig an ihrem Machterhalt basteln musste.

Letztlich sicherten ihr die Grünen die sichere Mehrheit. Der Preis? Das Verbrennerverbot 2035 bleibt, mit einer kleinen optischen Retusche, über so genannte E-Fuel‘s.

Ein absolut unterentwickelter und wahnsinnig teurer Nischenmarkt.

Aufschrei in DE? Nein, in den ÖR keine Notiz. In der CDU kein Wort. Schließlich will Fritze Merz selbst mit den Grünen koalieren.

Da die nun weiter favorisierten E-Autos, die in der Gesamtbilanz klimaschädlicher als moderne Verbrenner sind, die Mobilität wegen der hohen Preise für Anschaffung, Ladekosten und fehlender Ladeinfrastrukturerheblich einschränken, haben sich wieder die wenig gewählten Grünen durchgesetzt.

Seit drei Jahren lassen sich in DE die SPD, FDP und ja, auch die CDU von den kompetenzstrotzenden Grünen am Nasenring durch die Manage ziehen. Werteentkernt und willenlos, lassen sie es zu, dass eine derzeit 10% — Partei de Facto Deutschland regiert. In der Migrationspolitik, Industrieabbau, Innere Unsicherheit und Kriegsbeteiligung. Selbst beim bedingungslosen Grundeinkommen für jegliche Zuwanderer, genannt Bürgergeld, setzen sie die Maßstäbe.

„Hass und Hetze“ ist die Rechtfertigung für Zensur und Unterdrückung regierungskritischer Meinungen, wenn das nicht reicht, kommt übergangslos die Nazikeule. Neue Begriffe, wie „Entmonetarisierung“ oder „Debanking“ signalisieren die Macht der Regierung. Wer einmal von heute auf morgen ohne Konto erlebt hat, weiß was das bedeutet.

Leider auch die demokratisch zweifelhafte Umdeutung einer GmbH in einen Verein, um dessen Presse- und Medienaktivitäten sogleich zu verbieten, ist ein Ausdruck des neuen Umgangs mit Kritik. Zu den angesetzten Hausdurchsuchungen waren allerorts Pressevertreter geladen, um die Unterdrückten auch noch bloßzustellen.

Mit den Vorbereitungen von digitalem Zentralbankgeld und europäischem Vermögensregister unter dem Mäntelchen des Kampfes gegen „Geldwäsche“ wird der nächste große Schritt zur völligen Transparenz des Bürgers gegangen.

In Folge der erzwungenen Angaben im Rahmen der „Grundsteuerreform“ ist die Hürde beim Immobilienvermögen schon genommen. Nebenbei erleben viele Immobilienbesitzer nun auch noch Steuererhöhungen um bis zu Ver-x- fachung.

Wer heute noch Bargeld unterm Kopfkissen lagert, erlebt die inflationsbedingte Entwertung. Beim Einzahlen auf ein Konto muss ggf. die Herkunft des Geldes nachgewiesen werden. Wertpapierdepots werden spätestens durch die Kapitalertragssteuer erfasst. Das Geld auf der Bank gehört erst dann Ihnen, wenn sie es physisch besitzen.

Lediglich der Besitz von Edelmetallen ist noch inflationssicher und anonym möglich. Da der Erwerb innerhalb bestimmter Grenzen (DE 1.999€; Österreich 9.999€) noch möglich ist, sollte jetzt spätestens der Tausch von Papier in Gold/Silber in physischer Form angezeigt sein.

Edelmetallhändler müssen zwar oberhalb der o.g. Grenzen den Käufer legitimieren mit einem Ausweisdokument, haben aber lediglich eine gewisse Aufbewahrungsfrist. Einen Automatismus zur Weitergabe von Käufer-oder Verkäuferdaten gibt es nicht.

Bestimmte Edelmetallsorten sind nicht mehr bei allen Händlern durchgängig verfügbar. In unserem Onlineshop und in den Thekengeschäften in Berlin und Wien halten wir jedoch alle gängigen Barren und Münzen zur Kapitalanlage vor.

Erst die Person, dann die Partei, dann das Land

[444names]

communes of the calvados department + french names from wikibooks

Ablort Adrier Alance Alesche Aley Allette Allio Aminte Anabice Anie-Pieux Anine Arcot Arcote-le Arre Ashenrier Aubosser Augerriene Ayme Baile Baphrier Baray-le Bard Barde Barecolier Baree Barlett Barrimble Bass Bazard Beaudhomsong Beaudre Beaulainet Bede Bedes Belie Belour Bennettente Beorge Bervilloë Besque Blarge Boche Bodord Bones Bonie Bont Bouchoe Bouf Boupenon Bour Bourede Bracy Branch Brand Brane Brapin Bres Broquer Brosquevin Brumermain Brunaymourvé Bulin Bult Butrierravet Cabance Caelinier Cainthe Cairgo Caize Calans Calmordier Camine Campagny Can-sur Carainte Carbe-Buce Carche Carpin Cart Casseter Cassine Castee Catiotty Cayetter Cesquette Chac Chain Challet Chay Cheblier Chennes Chlaine Clamy Clanette Clessy Clet Clotre Clénoy Codier Collessal Cont-Mer Coren Coronier Cournon Creville Crin-Aur-Mer Croureau Cyranis Céste Daine Daize Dalle Dartalle Daus Davart Deblett Debœuf Defoontrey Delanche Delle DeLon DeMoux Denetret Dernan-Bobin DeRogeil Des-lanette Desne Despelme Dest Deva Devallance Devatierite Dever Devick Devierin Devill Disse Doir Doirmin Domin Dorislay Dour-Mes Dourne Doutille Dubeaull Dubry Ducre DuHacrès Duharman Dujo Dumaronnes Dumelleille Dumon Duphiand Duplaudes Duquetiot Duracquain Duthibaille Dérier Déromble Echalle Elémer Emme Eraut Estin Euge Exnaubre Fabell Facquer Fauléminette Faute Fermand Fernaye Fidonce Firet Flemeault Fleynabettel Flome Floro Floémont-en Fonollett Foreppos Forier Fory Fouset Frette Friondeaux Frédélien Fréphetise Fuquenaule Fuques Fuquets Gabaud Gage Gal-engant Gallain Galomin Gancartean Gansonty Gardineau Garges-Ter Garozon Gasse Geboris Geraille Geron Gert Gettegrie Gignader Gignorenacte Gilbere Gillest Glancelt Gobers Goguardorge Gouarcoir Goujoirette Gour Graverville Greyr Guelle Guettou Guill Guille Guissettein Guset Harrigny Hoge Hoguessy Honz Huge Hupe Islain Jart Jeau Jeault Jeaumbles Jeaume Jeaus Jeaux Jeaux-Jol Jettel Jofite Joillerosson Julanc Juvassarbice LaColier LaCon LaCouville LaCrock Lacrovalle LaDubier Lafeurger Lafore LaHavoiset Lalle Lamachonot Lamagne Landré Laney Lanis Lantin Lapies Late Lathé Laury LeBarrie-Per LeBoir LeGagny Lege LeGrin Leguettee Lejeanc Lemet Leofi Lepie Lepucher Lergo Lesrocheille Lesroult Lette Levandis Libevillia Lieux-Boy Lillierrige Limon Lion Lissette Lite Loix Lonnet Loude Louvildesson Lozo Lucillet Ludhou Léan Lége Mable-Mere Maet Magote Main Mair Malins Malle-enaud Marde Mardel Maricka Maridon Mariellie Maroullon Mars-sur Martry Mary-sur Matiette Matte Maudd Maxel Maximoulet Maxisène Melang Merre Mesniertine Miche Mige Modin Molin Molpier Monne More Morise Moufoux Mourginguer Moussonte Muilloiron Myrotte Nadouf Naille Nege Nonier Nord Nore Nortouvince Odine Odovain Oncett Ouin Ozetter Papon Paremy Paune Pellantin Pellesrois Perc Pergouf Perremp Pienneau Pier Piers Pillés Pinvilyette Plaill Plaisettelon Plouté Poier Poissy Pormaireaux Poussy Prie Prolon Quime Rabaulie Rabay Ramancon Remanistil Renco Rencomand Rene Rhont Rhoque Rhot Rier Rifitres Riote Rocal Romeaudete Rond Rosse Rotailbery Rour-Meroin Ruloute Rumpy Ryvliercs Sabber Sabosie Sailles Sain Saindo Saingèvre Saint Sairéhau Sais Saise Saisle Sange Sarchille Saudrin Saulle-Pipel Schen Sege Sene Sidresheaud Sire Souline Stéo Sylvine Tabes Thia Thice Thie This Thison Tiphambee Tophoupage Tophreaustie Toullo Tout Toute Trance Trastoier Trot Truinaine Tuline Urber Urvan Valmenodie Vaulet Vernau Vignès Virard Virmaintin Wille Xavette Élier

same thing but shorter names

Aberbay Achans Adry Agasson Aillier Alberge Alier Alle Amancie Amaric Amas Andron Anguet Anner Arneau Asnier Aubetty Auget Aurge Avesq Avrant Ayralle Barber Barchy Bard Bart Basclud Bason Beaux Bedeaud Belly Bergin Berred Bervie Bestis Beux Bier Bilin Bint-et Bisepan Blose Bocher Bodd Boir Boirme Boise Bonnes Bont Boupucy Bour Bourme Bousta Boustin Bout Boutea Boux Bret Brier Brimay Brine Brons Brumon Brus Bujo Buradon Butroi Cabert Cais Callet Cames Camon Campar Carber Card Casier Chagny Chare Chaure Chaux Chene Cherne Chres Clarif Clarine Clin Cloys Coille Coll Comey Comine Cone Cord Corie Coue Couf Couss Coux Coven Credese Dalber Dard Darlard Dary Daute De-Met DeBoil Defere DeJeaux Delhin Dell Delle Dellee Delles Dellier Dembin Depuche Desni Despe Devie Dionde Diste Ditine Domes Dorard Dorne Dostry Duboir Duch Ducher Ducy Dugint Duhois Dulle Dult Dummé Dupinet Dupinse Dupres Duse Dusseu Ede-let Emme Este Ethe Eyrie Fabeck Fagny Falis Fantard Fave Fermel Feux Fifique Flarrey Flet Fond Fonte Fores Foriau Fose Foutre Fracque Frasta Freston Félie Félée Gabo Gabry Gammet Gard Gare Garger Gasto Gattee Gaud Gent Geot Ghitein Giaux Giberry Gigno Gilley Gilly Gire Glain Gloir Gobatte Godon Gonna Gonne Gont Gouis Gouler Goulot Gouva Grain Granoye Grassie Gray Grie Groque Grour Groyer Guest Guil-et Guill Guille Guin Guit Halivoy Hamb Haux Hawaire Helant Hene Hot-Per Houte Hudiond Hudrier Hule Hupron Hôte Irès Isamond Jace Jacon Jantoux Jarte Jeas Jeau Jeaud Jeault Jeaumon Jeaux Join Joseve Joupin Julay Jult Jumerry Labeau Labere LaCal LaChard LaColle Lacre Lafoups Lagny Lalon Lame Lamp Lamps Lan-Mon Lance Lane LaPlain LaRier Lart Larte LaRum Latie Laule Lave Lavelle LeBert LeClain Lecque Lefon Lefouve Legon Lelmone Lepoise Lestie Lette Levoy Liase Limier Litelse Loin Loncant Lond Louley Loys Luchal Ludier Légoite Macy Maget Mahe Main Maine Malbe Mande Marcen Mard Marger Marle Marre Mart Martoir Maux Mazoque Merge Merice Mes-Pin Mett Mice Michon Mieult Modin Moilles Monne Mont More Mélénin Mézy Narnin Natitte Neauck Neux Nichage Noeux Nois Norne Océes Odonce Ongeo Oranet Osing Oues Ouette Ouire Pairy Pais Pallye Pard Patee Patteau Pelle Pellint Pelly Pelourt Pere Peron Perre Pet-Aun Phin Piceau Pienie Pille Plandée Pomer Poudrie Prande Pres Prise Pute Périer Quette Quille Rafor Rain Regues Renay Reur Riault Rick Rienatt Riere Rivatte Rivency Rivigno Rivin Robinge Rochaux Rocher Rochy Rocquil Rogert Romme Rouite Roura Rouvart Rubutre Réjeaux Sageond Sain Saine Sais Saittel Saizat Sallin Sambre Sane Sangee Saour Sassin Saux Savanne Sawte Scierel Seur Shure Simarre Simerd Simot Sine Sols Soudeau Sour Stelis Stéoper Surge Sylvy Sévie Terne Tessau Thuett Tounet Tousse Tronne Truvre Trée Unierre Unis Urbe Usevier Valles Vereux Vermine Verter Vertien Vianche Vidèle Vilair Vivee Vois Voiss Wage Wybeau Yane Yelis Zenc Évres

[blackcoffeeandblankpagess]

February

Split my time between OR and MI. Aka I went out to michigan to see Jared for the second half of the month

The weather in Eug was SO nice that month? See pic at top from hike with @everythinginstride + nathan. They know how to spice up a hike let me tell ya. Summit coffee and stroop waffels 👌🏻

In Michigan we stopped to get Detroit style pizza the night I flew in as per usual. Jared's bestie who I had yet to meet irl came which was awesome. And I got a cocktail with gummy bears which was extra awesome.

Lots of snow! So fricken cold! So much running and snow and stressing about slipping! But I also finally got to meet up with @neu-run and run irl (so fking windy and cold omg) which was very nice (and made up for the wind and cold)

Took a day trip to Grand Rapids! Went climbing and ate tacos. Ideal.

Took a weekend trip to Traverse City. Amazing.

We stayed at this awesome airbnb and it was on a farm and we got to chill with the goats and cows and feed them and they were so fun and friendly.

Explored Sleeping Bear + went to wineries + went to a distillery that had yurts you could hang out in and play board games + drove up the peninsula. Definitely has me thinking about the Bayshore Marathon some day 👀

Went to a birthday party for one of J's friends and it was so much fun and very college-party-esque. Plus I got to meet most of his friends for the first time (shoutout covid!)

[whocalledhimannux]

Queen's Thief Appreciation Week: King of Attolia, Annotated (Part 1)

I bought the entire series in the new shmancy metallic covers so I would have a matching set, but I could never bear to get rid of my battered and beloved copy of King of Attolia, and I decided to add some annotations for appreciation week. I haven't finished the book yet, and tumblr only allows a certain number of images per post, so expect more posts eventually. Also, this is not going to be every annotation I make, because I have so many Thoughts and Opinions, but it will be a selection of the best and most interesting. Such as:

[image id: the paragraph in which Costis is first introduced, as "a young guard" who "liked being stationed high above the palace." The words "I love him" are written in green in the margins]

this is the key I'll be using:

[image id: "The Thief callback" written in light green, "Queen of Attolia callback" in light blue, "Conspiracy of Kings foreshadowing/overlap" in yellow and orange, "Thick as Thieves foreshadowing" in dark blue, "Return of the Thief foreshadowing" in red, "cool plotting" highlighted in purple and "internal foreshadowing" written in purple, "poor Costis" highlighted in pink with four hatch marks, "god I love this book" highlighted in green with "more on why I love this book" written in medium green, "general commentary" written in black and "character dynamics" highlighted in yellow.]

Yes, I am highlighting every instance in which Costis is made miserable and/or ridiculous. There is a lot of pink highlighting in this book so far. Also keeping track of how many times "poor Costis" specifically comes up--so far once each from Eugenides, Sejanus, Aris, and Costis himself.

[image id: the last sentence of the prologue ("[Relius] would leave the fate of the king to the queen, but he would not pretend to himself that he was not afraid") highlighted in green. margin note "the tension in these opening scenes--we've never been so far from Eugenides's pov in any opener. Attolians genuinely affraid, mistrustful, losing power. reader should sympathize."]

[image id: a paragraph highlighted in green. "The ruler, anointed by priests and priestesses, of all the lands of Attolia, the official father of the people, the lord of the barons who'd one by one sworn him their oaths of obedience, the undisputed, uncontested, and absolute sovereign of the land. The swollen discoloration by his mouth closely matched the elaborate purple embroidery on his collar." margin note "rythm in these opening scenes is fantastic."]

This is not the only paragraph in this opening chapter that I think has incredible build-up. "Sir I must explain my actions" / "Costis could not explain his actions" was another one. Really the whole thing is just incredible.

[image id: "So you risk him to save the life of a treacherous, worthless guard?" with "risk him" circled in purple highlighter. margin note "without Teleus, Eug. doesn't get the smaller Guard, Irene doesn't get a king." Below that, "You will not rehabilitate [Costis] with me," highlighted in yellow. Margin note "His heart is unlikely to be in his work" in red.]

Nbd just screaming.

[image id: a paragraph about Teleus's punishment of the Guard, with Palace Guard underlined in medium green and a margin comment "resistance to using the term King's Guard (Palace, Queen's, or simply Guard)." Further down, a squiggly line under "king's service," with anoter margin note "lip service to the King, but they all know why they stay."]

Another thing that's present throughout a good chunk of the book. Costis actually refers to the "Queen's Guard" in the present tense when he's yelling at Eugenides, and it's referred to as the more neutral Guard, Palace Guard, or Royal Guard, but while Teleus says "by order of the king" repeatedly, the Guard as a whole never Belongs to the king.

[image id: the page featuring Costis's first sparring session with Eugenides. a margin note in orange, "Eddisian philosophy; basics are important" with an arrow applying it to a large paragraph and the phrase "whole attention." The sentence "Eugenides was almost preternatural in his calmness" underlined in light blue, with a light blue margin note "practicing w/ MoW."]

On the next page, one of the attendants points out that the day is passing and Eugenides looks up and apparently notices for the first time, an even more direct parallel to QoA.

[image id: "Why?" asked Costis, unaware that he might be admirable in any way." highlighted in pink]

An example of my liberal interpretation of a "poor Costis" moment.

[image id: part of a sentence, highlighted in yellow: "[however] much your comrades might congratulate you for it." Margin note "Lawful Good--neither personal feelings nor public approval make rule-breaking just." Further down, note "likewise, duty is duty even if it is a joke."]

When you read these opening pages hyperalert for any Spyfam/Soldierfam Teleus and Costis moments, you find a lot. Even subtle things--Teleus stands next to Costis the first morning he waits for Eugenides to come and spar.

[image id: the page discussing Eugenides's meeting with Pilades. half a sentence highlighted in green: "or better--they could just give him a written summary and he would look over it sometime himself." margin note "this meeting could have been an e-mail."]

This scene has always been one of my favorites. Ditto with Ornon's "short of throwing a dinner roll at him, there was no way to get the king's attention."

[aerodaltonimperial]

AU in which Darby finally actually hurts himself doing something stupid. Sting is unavailable, and somehow Jack Perry ends up taking care of him.

this just got wildly out of hand, as per the euge

[sfiorisce]

"Dio hane quanto odio i Pisani, nella vita mi sento bloccato dall'entroPisa"

"Eug spero tu possa stare meglio"

"Boia de, lo spero pure io per te"

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

FC is a crown prop. It can't be submitted by HnM. Even if it's to EnJ. Infact, even the lease agreement is slightly different from your usual rent and move in deals. The royal usually only gets offered the prop as per the monarchs discretion. So Eug moving in is all BRF. HnM probably weren't even involved. Infact the very fact that we are specifically being told that the cousins have a mutual deal and on super food terms means H was kept completely out of the loop.

I bet he knew. He just couldn’t do anything about it. You can kind of see the progression in the news.

EDITED TO ADD: Eugenie arrives at Balmoral on August 21st.

https://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/princes-eugenie-arrives-holiday-queen-22556113

On August 29th, Omid says Meghan and Harry want to spend “an extended time in the UK” next summer back in August. That was probably right after the decision to give the house to Eug was made during the Balmoral meetings.

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-8676417/Meghan-Markle-Prince-Harry-spend-extended-period-time-UK-year.html

Then “Harry” “paid off” the Frogmore repairs in September. 

https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-54062799

Two weeks later, a “palace source” clarified that the sum paid included “up-front” rent.

https://www.townandcountrymag.com/society/tradition/a34147499/meghan-markle-prince-harry-frogmore-cottage-rent-up-front/

EDITED TO ADD: The day after, Eugenie announced she was pregnant.

https://www.townandcountrymag.com/society/tradition/a34147499/meghan-markle-prince-harry-frogmore-cottage-rent-up-front/

Then the house is opened up in October and everyone assumes it’s for Harry.

https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/12897767/is-prince-harry-coming-home/

EDITED TO ADD: Two days after that Sun article comes out Enty gets a blind about Jack cheating on Eug. Kudos to all the anons who guessed this came from Megs.

https://www.crazydaysandnights.net/2020/10/blind-item-5_12.html

EDITED TO ADD: The “Montecito is out forever home” article, which looks like sour grapes now, cam out two weeks later.

https://www.hellomagazine.com/royalty/2020102799771/meghan-markle-prince-harry-archie-montecito-home/

And in November it turns out that Eug is moving into the house.

https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/13257133/prince-harry-meghan-markle-possessions-frogmore-cottage-princess-eugenie/

That came out right after Meghan’s press had started squawking about how Frogmore was “Archie’s Haven.”

https://www.hellomagazine.com/homes/20201120101266/prince-harry-meghan-markle-home-frogmore-cottage-photos-inside/

And the Harkel reactions is “it’s still our house” and “we lent it to Eug but can couch surf whenever we want.”

https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/13262972/harry-meghan-frogmore-cottage-deal-secret/

So I think they knew about it, but they just didn’t have any control.

[littlemisslol-fic]

Summary: Two years after the events of Barviel Keep, Varian has tried to adapt to the expectations brought by being a King’s Ward, with mixed results. Haunted by ghosts, Varian is forced to face the demons he tried to leave behind in Bayangor when his abdication is forcibly stopped by a third party, out for revenge against the Bayan Royal bloodline. On the run, with few allies left to turn to, Varian finds himself chasing a ghost through a series of tests that only a true heir of Demanitus could ever hope to pass.But the shadows are ever present, looming and dark, and not everything is as simple as it might seem.

Notes: An innocent side trip ends with repercussions. Merrick makes another move.

Today marks the one year birthday of the first story in this series, Like a Rowboat, so what better time to kick it out of hiatus than now? Time to get the ball rolling again.

The road to Pincosta was a lesson in patience.

The group kept off the main roads for the most part, sticking to the backroads just as they had while making their way to Old Corona. They’d been walking for almost two days already, and Varian was starting to get tired. The backroads were quiet, the kinds of roads someone would walk if they didn’t want to be discovered- but that also meant that they weren’t exactly well maintained, nor were they the quickest option available.

Varian scowled as he tripped over a stone that had been half-embedded in the dirt path, grunting and shaking out his foot as he followed Eugene and Rapunzel through the quiet woods. He knew the logic behind not taking the main road- hell if anything it was the obvious choice- but that didn’t make sloughing through endless muddy, messy, footpaths was fun.

Eugene seemed unaffected as he led them along, idly swatting at a few large bugs that were buzzing around his head. With an exaggerated grin he slung an arm over Varian’s shoulder, gently nudging a half-asleep Ruddiger.

“Smell that, kid?” he said, taking a dramatic sniff. Varian rolled his eyes, but played along. It was nice of Eugene to try and distract him, and he was grateful to be distracted.

“What,” Varian asked, “The smell of damp forest and skunk? Cause if so, yeah, I smell it.”

“Not that, my vertically-challenged friend!” Eugene said, shaking Varian a little at the sass. Ruddiger chittered his disagreement with that, but Eugene held strong in the face of the raccoon’s ire. “That, my dear boy, is the smell of adventure!”

“Exhilarating.” Varian deadpanned, catching sight of Rapunzel smothering a laugh with her hand. “I am… just so excited. Truly, my feeble heart can’t take it-”

“I know!” Eugene cut him off, “Think of this as your chance to finally travel! That’s what you wanted, right?”

Varian looked skywards- Sun give him strength- before fixing Eugene with an exasperated look.

“You know,” Varian said, “I think the circumstances kind of changed some things.”

Eugene paused, but shrugged.

“Never happy, these kids!” he said to Rapunzel, who snorted into her hand. Even Varian couldn’t help but snicker, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter as he tried to keep a straight face. Eugene wasn’t done, however. “I’m just saying, give them an inch and they’ll take a mile, no gratefulness at all-”

“I resent that.” Varian finally broke, playfully shoving at Eugene, “Keep going on about the youths and I’ll sick Angry and Red on you-”

“You wouldn’t dare-”

“Try me.”

Eugene’s eyebrow raised, the main appraising Varian to try and find the lie. Unable to find it, he huffed out a put-upon sigh, removing his arm and instead ruffling Varian’s hair. The alchemist scowled, swatting at him, but Eugene merely took the hits with grace.

“You win this round, goggles, but I swear when we get to Pincosta-”

“Which I still don’t think is a good idea-”

“You shush. When we get you to Pincosta, you’ll be grateful for this life experience we’ve given you. Someday, we’re all gunna look back on this and laugh!”

“Like the time with the Saporians?”

“Well, no, okay-”

“Or the time with Cassandra?”

“Now that was extenuating circumstances-”

“And the time with Zhan Tiri?”

Eugene finally gave up, shaking his head with a good-natured sigh. Rapunzel seemed to dislike the direction the conversation was headed, stepping up and putting a hand on both their shoulders.

“How about we break for lunch?” she asked, “I don’t know about you two, but I’m starving!”

Varian sank down into a slouch, backing off. Eugene had just been trying to lighten the mood, it wasn’t fair for Varian to get snippy with him. When they stopped on the side of the road, he nudged Eugene in a quiet apology, which the man returned. Varian shot him a grateful smile, taking the subsequent hair ruffle with grace. All of them were on edge, it was true, but at least Eugene was the forgiving type.

Rapunzel sighed as she flopped down onto the grass on the side of the path, stretching her arms a bit and rustling around the duffle bag. The sun beat down on them, hotter out from under the canopy of the trees, and she seemed to perk up with the brighter light.

“Okay!” she said, “Let’s see what we’ve got.” The clinking of glassware echoed around her, the princess moving empty bottles and supplies around. Varian sighed and sat next to her, leaning into her side with a tired whine. Rapunzel shouldered the motion with grace, taking the brunt of her brother’s weight as he complained.

They’d been walking for days- Varian’s feet felt like they were going to fall off. It wasn’t like this was the longest trip he’d ever been on but with the horrible terrain, combined by the swift pace Rapunzel was leading them on, Varian was ready to drop. Eugene looked a little better, flopping down with a huff onto his own patch of grass. He fell flat on his back, letting out a long breath and closing his eyes. Varian snickered quietly, watching the dramatics. Rapunzel paused for a second, arching a brow.

“Okay,” she said, “Who ate the last of the apples?”

Ruddiger took the opportunity to slide off of Varian’s shoulders- hitting the grass with a thump and frantically scurrying off into the woods. The three humans watched him go, before sighing in tandem.

“You know, I think I might have a theory.” Eugene said, not opening his eyes.

“Right.” Rapunzel sighed, sorting through the bag again. “In that case, I guess it’s good we’re near a city; this is the last of our food.” She pulled out a small jar of pickled eggs, scrunching her nose at the sight of the green liquid. Varian did the same, leaning away as she undid the lid. The strong smell of vinegar and egg wafted from the jar; Varian cringed.

Eugene popped an eye open at the stench, sitting up with a sudden excitement.

“Oh, gimme!” he crowed, “I love these things!”

Rapunzel passed him the jar without question, looking away as Eugene began to shove eggs in his mouth. Varian felt himself almost gag- while healthy, pickled eggs had never really been his go to snack, per se. Eugene didn’t seem to care, shoveling them like it was his final meal. With a small muffled mrph noise he offered the jar to Rapunzel who smiled but shook her head. Eugene shrugged and went back to eating.

The princess turned away, smiling conspiratorially and shifting a little so that Eugene couldn’t see what she had. With a small grin, she held up a small bag of… something. Varian arched a brow, leaning closer as she held out her hand and poured a small cluster of hard candies into it, each wrapped in a golden foil that caught the light and glittered.

Varian’s face lit up, and Rapunzel shushed him quickly. She nudged his hand gently, tipping her own so that half the candy fell into his palm. Varian smiled, leaning against her as they unwrapped the treat. Rapunzel’s smile was warm, leaning her head on his; Varian could feel her smile on the crown of his head. The taste of maple sugar was a welcome one, something sweet and simple that was oddly grounding after the week he’d had. Something about being able to sit and enjoy a small luxury settled Varian, made him feel a little more at ease.

So, of course, that’s when the universe had to intervene.

Eugene suddenly made a noise, something that was distinguishable as distressed, but through the eggs there wasn’t much in the way of words. Varian and Rapunzel both straightened up as the man hastily gestured down the road before screwing the lid onto his jar and shoving it into their bag. The man grabbed the bag’s strap, frantically gesturing for them to move towards the thick treeline. Varian was up first, cautiously getting to his feet and watching as Eugene frantically gestured towards the road. The man finally seemed to get sick of being a mime, huffing and firmly pushing Varian towards the brush, Rapunzel hot on his heels. The three of them skid into the woods, hunkering down among the thick leaves and branches at Eugene’s insistence. The man swallowed thickly, gasping, before sinking lower in his hiding place.

“Horses,” he whispered, “A lot of horses.”

Sure enough, not a minute later, the thundering of hooves was audible over the noises of the forest. The three Coronians huddled closer to the ground, watching with tense anticipation as a large group of men- all of them wearing dark coats and a blood red sash- thundered by on horseback. Varian felt Rapunzel’s hand reach for his wrist, grabbing it tightly. He slipped his wrist up, so they were holding hands, the two siblings cringing into each other as the group of Merrick’s men passed them by.

Varian could hear his own panicked heartbeat thud in time with the horses’ hooves, scrunching his eyes closed in fear. Rapunzel was shaking next to him, her hand gripping tightly onto his. Varian was sure if she gripped any tighter his bones would snap. Eugene was the only one of them who seemed even a little composed, but Varian could feel the tenseness in the man’s shoulders next to him, speaking of experience. It set Varian on edge, to know Eugene was anxious about their situation.

The alchemist shuddered, cringing closer to Rapunzel as one of the men called something to the group in a language he didn’t understand; all three Coronians flinched when the group laughed loudly.

After what seemed like hours the patrol finally passed them, the crew of nearly twenty men finally thundering away as quickly as they’d come. Once they were out of sight Rapunzel made to stand, but stopped when Eugene held up a hand. She sank back down into the dirt, not questioning Eugene’s strange behaviour. There was a tense beat of silence between them all, the forest slowly reawakening around them. The only thing Varian could hear was birdsong and the rustling of leaves, but even he waited for Eugene’s say-so before moving. Rapunzel did the same, both she and Varian watching with interest as the man put his ear to the ground.

He held the position for a tense couple of seconds, ear touching the dirt, before looking to them and nodding, pushing up and onto his feet.

“We’re clear,” he said, “They’ve moved on.”

The three slowly crept back onto the road, still tense after the close call. Varian’s rabbit heartbeat slowly began to calm, the thud-thud in his ears abating now that the danger seemed to have passed. He stared down the trail, towards where the warriors had gone, his face sinking into a frown.

“That isn’t… great.” Varian said, looking with wide eyes down the path where the men had vanished. “If they’re already out here, then-”

“Then we’ll just have to be really careful.” Rapunzel said with her hands on her hips. “They’ll be going for Vardaros, but so long as we don’t draw too much attention to ourselves, it’ll be okay.”

“Sunshine’s right.” Eugene agreed, trying to seem positive in the light of Varian’s concern. “Just gotta make sure to stick to the side roads, and keep an ear to the ground. Like hide-and-seek!”

“We still have to go to Vardaros, though.” Varian said grimly, “Unless we want to eat pickled eggs for the whole trip.”

Eugene’s eyes lit up at that, but Rapunzel looked downright squeamish at the thought.

“Good point,” she said, tapping at her chin with her frying pan. “Maybe Eugene and I will go, Varian, and you can stay behind and-”

“And what, get attacked?” Varian argued, “Splitting up is literally the worst thing we could do right now.”

Rapunzel paused, thinking it over. Varian picked at his glove, still looking down the road. He knew that logically it wouldn’t be smart to split up, leaving him alone would inevitably end with Varian having to fend off any attacks on his own, which with his track record could only end badly. There was also the niggling feeling of patronization, that Rapunzel thought he was so useless he needed to be left in the woods while she and Eugene did all the work. It made him almost want to take back what he’d said, to be left alone just to show he could, but tactically it was a horrible plan. Rapunzel didn’t seem enthused by the idea either, tapping her chin once more.

“Well, we’ll have to see how it looks when we get there,” she finally said, tugging at her hair nervously. “Maybe they won’t even stop in Vardaros, they could just move on if they think we’re farther ahead.”

“With our luck?” Eugene laughed, shouldering their bag with a grunt. “I bet they’ve already set up shop.”

Rapunzel deflated, her shoulders slumping. Varian looked at her closely, saw the exhaustion in her spine and the despondence in her face. Something sick filtered through his gut, a tense collection of fear and anxiety and stress- but he shoved it down. Rapunzel had been shouldering his bad mood for the last two days, and had tried to be nothing but positive- but even she couldn’t deny the severity of their situation. Varian grit his teeth, standing a little straighter. The sick feeling in his stomach solidified into a determination, and he stepped closer to her, catching her eye.

“We’ll deal with it when we get there,” he said, “But we’ll deal with it like we deal with everything else- together.”

That seemed to do the trick; Rapunzel perked right back up again, nodding.

“And we’ll win together too,” she declared. “Just like we always do.” She smiled, the first real one Varian had seen from her in days. It scrunched her face in the same way it always had, full and bright and open in a way that was just so Rapunzel. For the first time since Corona burned, Varian saw his sister again. She smiled, glorious and full, and it shined lighter than the sun.

“To Vardaros, then,” she said.

Varian smiled, letting her link their arms at the elbow.

“To Vardaros.”

>>><<<

Rapunzel found that something in her refused to relax.

It had been hours since they’d last seen the patrol- nearly half a day, to be exact- but she still felt the same tenseness in her muscles that she had when they’d been right in front of her and her family. The princess shuddered- that had been too close for comfort, even if nothing had come from it. They were looking for Varian; Merrick had probably sent men in each cardinal direction in an attempt to find her brother, like dogs after a downed bird.

The thought made her sick to her stomach.

Rapunzel startled a little as Varian- fast asleep to her left, his head propped up on her leg- snuffled in his sleep, and curled tighter around Ruddiger unconsciously. Rapunzel smiled softly, something frail and affectionate; she lifted a hand up to run it through his messy hair, gently untangling some of the larger knots with the sort of unconscious ease she had from years of practice. Varian leaned into the touch, snuggling closer into her warmth. Eugene snored nearby, flung half over a log as he twitched in his sleep.

Rapunzel snickered at her husband, the man idly kicking a foot into the dirt. Varian shifted a bit at the noise- Rapunzel kept detangling his hair as he settled again. The clearing around them was well off the beaten path- Rapunzel was grateful, as they were finally able to light a fire for the first time in days. It cracked merrily in the middle of their small camp, tucked out of sight in the massive, winding roots of an ancient elm. The forest around them was calm and quiet, relaxed in a way that suggested safety.

But Rapunzel refused to let herself be caught off guard.

She idly thumbed at the handle of her frying pan. She was sitting with her back to one of the large roots, propped up against it in something almost like a slouch. It was late in the evening, the moon full and bright in the cloudless sky. Rapunzel caught herself scanning the forest in the moonlight, unable to trust her surroundings.

Not while she had her family to protect.

Ruddiger purred in his sleep, snuggling close to Varian. The boy hugged his pet close to his chest, curling into a ball around the raccoon. Rapunzel cooed under her breath- for all Varian liked to insist he was an adult, he would always be her little brother. And that was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? It was up to her to protect him from things that would do him harm; she would gladly step between him and danger no matter the cost. Rapunzel sighed, gently taking her hand from his hair. He didn’t register the change, huddling close with a sigh and relaxing a little more into her leg. Rapunzel smiled, idly slipping a hand into her dress pocket to ward off the cold. Despite the fire, it was still early spring; the evening chill was nothing if not persistent.

Rapunzel’s fingers touched parchment, and her heart sank.

She had nearly forgotten about the letter. Varian’s letter, if she were brutally honest with herself, the one she had been hiding from him. Rapunzel bit her lip, slowly drawing the wrinkled envelope out. She’d completely forgotten she’d kept it in her dress, worried that someone would find it and deliver it to its rightful owner- and by the Sun didn’t that train of thought make her feel cruel. Varian had a right to know that Aisha- his mother- was alive, that she was waiting for him to come find her. Her throat felt tight, like it was being squeezed at the thought.

Did the events of the past few days not prove that Varian was better off without any sort of connection to his bloodline? All Bayangor had ever brought him was fire and blood, chaos and death and pain- it broke Rapunzel’s heart to see her brother put through so much in such a brief amount of time. Bayangor had brought them Aldred, it had brought them Merrick, it had brought them yet another attack on Corona. Quirin had died to keep Varian away from these people, away from his history. Bayangor had given them a kidnapped child and a crown made to rip the free will away from its wearer- it had given them nothing but suffering and misery, and Rapunzel wouldn’t stand by and let Varian get sucked back into the absolute hellfire that was that bloodline. Not again.

The note was still folded in its open envelope- Rapunzel had kept it as intact as she could to keep it as inconspicuous as possible. She reached in with dainty fingers and drew the letter from the envelope. In the silence of the forest the soft crinkle of parchment sounded near damning, but she persisted. The words were identical to the last time she’d read it, the same pleas from a woman who only wanted to see her son, word for word. Rapunzel had poured over the note countless times by now, reading and rereading as if it would change the contents the more she willed them to be different. It never changed, though, remaining as damning as ever.

Rapunzel tensed as she read it again, seeing the words your mother scrawled on the bottom like a branding flame, large and obvious and nigh unmissable-

Eugene let out a particularly large snort, shattering the silence and startling Rapunzel. She felt her heart leap in her throat at the sudden loud noise, clutching the letter close and holding it tightly. Varian shifted, rolling over. Rapunzel shoved the letter into her pocket, frantically trying to calm her racing heart as Varian’s eyes groggily blinked open.

“Punzie?” he asked, his voice slurred with sleep, “Wha-happun?”

Rapunzel couldn’t help but smile- with the note safely tucked away in her pocket she had both hands to gently begin to fuss with his hair again. As much as he whined, she knew that he enjoyed the contact. Case and point, Varian leaned into the touch with a smile, his eyes slipping closed a little.

“Nothing happened,” Rapunzel assured him, “Just Eugene snoring.”

“Not again…” Varian whined, pressing his face into her knee. Rapunzel laughed quietly, biting her lip as the boy snuggled a complacent Ruddiger close.

“Go back to sleep,” she prompted him, sighing with relief when he took the advice. Within another minute he’d fallen back asleep, his breaths evening out. Rapunzel kept playing with his hair, looking around the campsite again. The dark was an inky blanket around them, thick and cloying.

Suspicious.

“You’re okay.” she whispered to him. He didn’t respond, of course, but she kept mumbling to him in the quiet of the night. “You’re okay. Nothing’s going to hurt you, not again.”

She felt her teeth grit, thinking of fire and wind and pink tourmaline, of grey stone and a burning library. She looked down to her brother, so young, so innocent, and with a history filled with so much pain. Rapunzel was through sitting on the sidelines, chasing after the evils of the night instead of meeting them head on before they could do any damage. Her gaze hardened, the women shifting to look into the fire with a newfound sense of determination. When she spoke next, her voice echoed with conviction.

“Not while I’m here. I promise.”

>>><<<

Varian had never been to Vardaros before- hell, before this disastrous week he’d never been outside of Corona save for his forced vacation to Bayangor- but from the stories Rapunzel and Eugene had told him he didn’t exactly have high expectations.

And even then, Vardaros still managed to be disappointing.

Varian huffed a little as he pulled the hood of his dad’s cloak a little higher on his head, his hair covered by the large hood. He shrank into the feeling of it, the swatch of blue-grey fabric warm and soft and feeling almost safe as he quietly followed Rapunzel and Eugene through the packed streets. Rapunzel stuck close to him, constantly looking back as if to confirm that Varian was still following them; the alchemist couldn’t help but feel a little put-upon… did she think he was going to wander off like a little kid? Get lost like a toddler in the crowd?

Varian bit the inside of his cheek, trying to push down the indignation. Rapunzel was probably just as stressed, tired, and generally shaken as Varian was. He had to cut her a little slack, right? It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, it was probably that she was just worried.

Right?

The alchemist shook himself; he was being paranoid, and this was not the time for infighting. He sank a little deeper into the cloak, pulling it closer. It was a warmer day today, thankfully, but not so warm that Varian’s cloak looked suspicious; a small stroke of luck that was blissfully received. The market was relatively quiet; Eugene had taken them to one of the shadier market centers in the city in order to keep a lower profile- and thus it was basically abandoned in the light of the midafternoon.

The stone walls that made up the canyon Vardaros sat in reached high into the sky, so high that Varian had to crane his neck to see the top. The market, being crammed into one of the smaller canyon offshoots, had multiple stories of buildings, reaching up by at least three to four stories. The higher levels were connected by a series of wooden footpaths and rope bridges, the complex network nearly blotting out the sun by the time it hit ground level. Varian was rather appreciative of it, sticking to the shadows and generally trying to stay out of the way; it wouldn’t end well if he were recognized, especially considering the search party they’d seen earlier the previous day.

Eugene led them through the market, a series of stalls and small shops manned by the kind of people who, had Quirin been around to see them, Varian would have been told to stay away from. Though Vardaros had been cleaned up in the past few years- at least according to Rapunzel and Eugene- it was obvious that a reputation as a hive of scum and villainy was harder to wash away than most would hope. Here, in the underbelly of the underbelly, it seemed that Vardaros’ use as a crime hub was still going strong.

And now, it was decidedly working to their advantage.

“We’ve almost got everything.” Eugene was saying, “But I want to see if we can get some science stuff for the kid-” Varian perked up at that, “Just in case.”

Rapunzel bit her lip, searching through the pocket of her dress. She pulled out the gold that Frederic had left in their bag, idly counting it. It was a fair handful, at least to Varian, but he’d also been raised smart enough to know how to budget. Rapunzel pursed her lips, tilting her head.

“We could probably swing for some alchemy supplies,” she finally agreed, “So long as we keep it to the essentials.”

The last bit was directed to Varian, who snapped to attention. He nodded quickly, looking between the two of them.

“I don’t need much.” he said, “Just a couple compounds for the goo-bombs, maybe some for higher caliber explosives-”

“Maybe we won’t do the explosives, bud.” Eugene cut him off, “No offence but they’re not exactly… subtle, and we need to be at least a little sneaky if we’re going to get where we need to go in one piece.”

Varian paused, thinking about what Eugene had said, before nodding.

“Fair enough,” the boy said, “I’ll just make extra goo-bombs then.”

“Deal!” Rapunzel chirped. A few people looked at her with odd expressions, seeing someone so peppy in the middle of such an… interesting group of people was probably a little strange. One of the larger men looked from Rapunzel to Varian; the boy shrank back under his gaze, shifting closer to Eugene as he did so. The man’s eyes narrowed, but he moved on, disappearing into the crowd. Varian shuddered- he didn’t look like one of Merrick’s men, but one could never be certain.

Eugene paused when Varian drifted close. The brunette followed the boy’s eyeline, just catching the strange man vanishing into the crowd. Eugene pursed his lips, looping an arm around Varian’s shoulders. Varian felt his nerves settle at the touch, breathing easier. Eugene patted at his back, comforting.

“C’mon kid,” he said, “Sooner we got the alchemy shop, sooner we’re out of here and on the road again, right?”

Varian leaned into Eugene’s side, sinking deeper into the feeble, protective half-hug. He tried to calm his racing thoughts, with limited success.

“Yeah,” the boy said, trying to sound enthused. “Yeah, of course.”

They moved on together, sticking to side streets and alleyways, keeping well out of the public eye. Vardaros had a certain feeling to it- it gave Varian the constant urge to check over his shoulder. Like the city itself might swallow him up if he wasn’t careful. Varian felt guilty by association just by walking around. Something about Vardaros made him nervous- be it the patrons or the looming, constricting walls of the canyon surrounding the city- and Varian couldn’t wait to be back on the road.

The side street they were on opened up into another large courtyard, surrounded on all sides by shoddy looking buildings. In the very center was a large fountain, long since died up and left to crumble. The cracked cobblestones shifted slightly under Varian’s boots, crumbling as he walked. Eugene’s arm was solid on his shoulders, tugging him along and keeping him away from prying eyes. Varian’s gaze drifted along the wall of a nearby building, where a large board was put up. Bounties, he realized, looking at nearly fifty different pictures all tacked up haphazardly. The board was nearly caked with wanted posters, some official from different kingdoms, some very obviously from different gangs and organizations. Varian slipped out from under Eugene’s arm, and looked closer.

He caught sight of some familiar faces, Andrew, the Stabbingtons, a few others he recognized from prison, but one bounty was painted with damning perfection and put right smack in the middle of the board.

Varian’s eyes widened when he saw his own face staring back at him.

He stumbled over a cracked cobblestone, jerking to a halt. Varian heard, more than felt, his breath hitch. How had they already- so quickly-

Shit.

“Uh. Guys?” he called softly. Both adults turned to see what he was looking at. The poster of Varian’s face was blatantly obvious, as was the ludicrously high price of eighteen-hundred gold for a live capture. Varian’s bounty hadn’t even been that high when he’d been accused of attacking the princess- and if the large stamp of bright red ink in the bottom corner was any indication, Merrick wanted Varian very badly.

“Oh. Uh.” Eugene said, shifting closer to the wall. “That is a… very high number.”

Varian nodded, stunned, biting his lip. How long had the poster been up? It couldn’t have been awfully long, the parchment hadn’t even started to degrade from being outside yet. The anxiety began to creep back in, a sick, cloying feeling. Varian bit a little harder into his lip- who had seen the wanted poster yet? He knew they had been careful, but even Eugene had mentioned that they probably had a few more days before a bounty would go out. They thought they’d have more time before word would get out, before they’d have to be overly cautious. Varian looked back to the poster, his heart sinking.

It seems their time had run out.

“What are we looking at- oh.” Rapunzel's voice cut off as she got a look at the poster. Varian’s terrified little face stared back, immortalized in ink and parchment. Varian couldn’t help but feel a little offended, at least his Coronian wanted posters had made him look scary, not like a frightened baby bunny. Eugene patted him on the back, sympathetic, before reaching forward and tearing the poster off the wall.

“Hey, at least they got your nose right,” the man grumbled, looking once at the paper before shoving it into his pocket. Rapunzel looked nervous, scanning the crowd. Varian did the same, not arguing as she reached a hand for him. The boy took her hand without question, following as Rapunzel tugged him away from the board. The three Coronians dipped into the shadow of a stall, huddling in a circle and looking at each other for a plan. Rapunzel dropped her grip once Varian was turned away, grabbing up their bag of supplies, but she shifted so that she was shoulder to shoulder with him, as if assuring herself that he was still there with physical contact.

“Forget the alchemy,” she said quickly, “We’ve got to get out of the city.”

“Agreed,” both Eugene and Varian said at the same time. Rapunzel was already moving back into the street, the boys following her lead-

A rough hand closed around Varian’s wrist.

The alchemist winced as he was forced to stop, looking over to see the man who had been looking at him oddly before. The man held up another copy of the wanted poster, gruffly shoving it in Varian’s face.

“This you?” the man asked, shaking the parchment.

The boy backed up as much as he could, nose wrinkling at the smell of the man’s foul breath.

“Nope!” he said, trying for a peppy smile, “Can’t say it is, sorry sir-”

The man reached a calloused, filthy hand up and tore Varian’s hood down, his eyes immediately going to the stripe in the boy’s hair. His gnarled, pockmarked face split into a wide grin, and the grip on Varian’s wrist got tighter.

“I think it is,” the man said. His greasy, black hair fell forwards into his face as he leaned forward into Varian’s space. “And that means I am about to be very rich.”

The boy tugged a little harder on his wrist, his other hand reaching for one of his bombs on his belt- this was exactly why they shouldn’t have come to the city, they should have just foraged for something to eat. Ruddiger hissed at the man from his place on Varian’s shoulder, growling like a little motor-

A familiar figure loomed up behind Varian, and the alchemist caught sight of a silver knife before Eugene Fitzherbert’s voice drifted between the boy and the man holding him.

“Problem, sir?” Eugene asked, the silver of his knife glinting in the weak sunlight of Vardaros’ underbelly. The man went pale, quickly letting go of Varian’s wrist. The boy clutched his hand close, rubbing at the spot where he knew a bruise was beginning to form and backing into Eugene’s chest. The man scowled, looking at Eugene with a murderous expression.

“No trouble,” he hissed, stormy grey eyes flicking from Eugene to the knife, to Varian, then back to the knife.

“Good.” Eugene said. “If that’s all, my brother and I will be going. You have yourself a nice, quiet day.”

The man’s expression darkened, but he still backed away from the Coronians. Eugene set a hand on Varian’s elbow, pushing the boy back towards Rapunzel and behind him. Varian had seen the expression on Eugene’s face a few times, the grim set of teeth and furrowed brows that only showed up when the man was furious with whatever was in front of him. Even when they’d been enemies, Varian had never seen it directed towards him- but he had seen it directed towards others before… Zhan Tiri, the Stabbingtons, Merrick.

And to Aldred.

The grey eyed thug vanished from sight. Varian saw Eugene’s shoulders slump with relief, the man’s posture sagging.

“Let’s get out of here,” Eugene said, shuffling his family forward nervously. “I don’t think we have a lot of time before nosey over there tries his hand at something else.”

Rapunzel nodded in agreement, and together the three of them hurried to gather their supplies and move on. Varian followed in her shadow, meekly hiding behind her. As they scurried off, leaving the market in the dust, none of the Coronians noticed a set of grey eyes following them, nor the scraggly, malicious smile splitting a pockmarked face.

The man turned, disappearing into the crowds like smoke in the air.

>>><<<

When Arianna met Merrick for the second time, he seemed smug. Something in the way he smiled at her and her husband put the queen on the defensive. It had been days locked away in isolation in the cold, damp, inky depths of the dungeon- and to see her jailer return in such high spirits made Arianna’s hackles raise. Her first thought was for Varian- if Merrick had found her boy, harmed a hair on his head-

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Merrick said, leaning up against the wall across from Arianna’s cell. “We kinda got started on the wrong foot.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” she asked, crossing her arms. Merrick’s grin only widened.

“It’s what I’m calling it, sure.”

“And that’s the only thing that matters?”

Merrick paused, pretending to think before nodding with a grin.

“Yep,” he said, popping the p. “Now. Okay. So I know it’s been rough, and I do so apologize for the way you’ve been treated- our fight isn’t with Corona, it’s with the crow, after all. But since he’s got the both of you convinced that he’s innocent, or whatever, I’m afraid we’re going to have to resort to… drastic measures.”

His flesh hand waved in a complex motion, and Arianna saw toxic green eyes twitch. Sparks leapt from Merrick’s outstretched hand, flying forwards unnaturally and moving directly into Frederic’s face. The man stumbled back, coughing roughly before suddenly jerking to a stop. Arianna watched in horror as her husband’s eyes glazed over and nearly unfocused- the man almost slumped over from his own weight.

“What did you do?!” she demanded, glaring at the teenager in front of her. Merrick grinned, flexing his natural hand.

“Told her I didn’t screw it up,” the man muttered to himself before turning to Arianna. “And don’t worry, queenie-bee,” his grin went sharp, “I merely… convinced him to see things my way. Freddy, darling?”

Frederic snapped to attention, glazed eyes focusing on Merrick through the bars. Merrick stood a little taller- Arianna tensed at the look of absolute malice on his face.

“Tell me, where would your daughter take the crow?” Merrick asked, crossing his arms and looking expectant.

“I don’t know.” Frederic mumbled- Arianna felt herself slump in relief. They may not have known for sure where Rapunzel would have taken Varian, but they did have a few ideas between the two of them. Merrick’s face darkened, but he still pulled a key from his pocket nonetheless and opened Frederic’s cell.

“So, you were telling the truth then. That… isn’t ideal.” Merrick muttered. “But I guess that’s why we improvise.”

He turned to Arianna, who slowly backed away from the iron bars of her own cell. Fear pulsed through her, but she forced herself into a straight back and a stiff lip. She glared at her jailer, even as he pulled a face at her.

“Ah, well.” Merrick shrugged, shaking out both hands as if the metal one could get as sore as his original. “Guess I’ll be needing both of you. Pain in the ass, but c’est la vie!”

He did the same motion again- Arianna felt a rise of panic as she pressed herself into the stones at her back. The man scoffed as the sparks grew from his hand once more, looking her dead in the eye.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “It’s just like falling asleep… and when you wake up there’ll be one less evil in the world.”

The sparks hit her dead in the face- Arianna coughed roughly as she breathed them in. A sudden urge to sleep overtook her, clouding her thoughts like smoke in a closed room. She clenched her fists against the stone wall at her back, shaking her head. She had to fight it, if not for herself than for her children- Varian and Rapunzel would need all the help they could get…

Arianna grit her teeth, shaking her head once more. The spell pushed at her consciousness once more, the most aggressive attack yet, but then… silence. The smoke in the crevices between her thoughts dissipated- Arianna stood a little straighter as the feeling of drowsy claws trying to drag her under let go. The spell… hadn’t took? Arianna panicked a little, her mind reeling; the spell hadn’t worked, but what to do about that fact?

Thinking quickly, Arianna tried to mimic Frederic’s stance, slumping a little and unfocusing her eyes. If Merrick couldn’t tell the difference, then maybe she could escape? Or find help, at least. Arianna stared blankly at the floor, trying to school her face into a lax expression- she shoved the panic down deep into her chest and waited with hitching breath.

There was the sound of jingling keys, and a lock being flicked.

“See? Easy.” Merrick muttered to himself, “Just gotta force two innocent people into giving me information, like that’s morally justifiable.”

Arianna’s cell popped open just like Frederic’s had, and the Queen let out a small sigh of relief. Merrick grumbled to himself as he turned around, walking from the room. His whole demeanour had changed, the false pep long gone. The act, it seemed, had been dropped. His shoulders slouched, face flipping into a small frown as he waved at them to leave their cells.

“Follow me, then,” he sighed. Frederic began a lumbering gait forwards- if Arianna didn’t know any better, she would think he was sleepwalking. She mimicked his posture, silently following the two men up the stairs. Her thoughts were flying a mile a minute- why hadn’t the spell worked? It hadn’t worked on Varian either… what connected them that didn’t also connect Frederic? The halls of her home, charred but still standing at least, flew by as Arianna’s thoughts grew more and more wild.

She could see ash and burned lumber being cleared away by maids and guards alike, the entirety of Corona brought to their knees by the band led by the man in front of her. Countless members of Merrick’s group kept watch over the castle staff, keeping them in line. She felt her teeth grit, hoping that her people had at least been treated with respect during their time since the takeover… no one seemed worse for wear, but she could see the shock and fear in their eyes as their monarchy went walking past. A large part of her wanted to call out to them, to tell them it was going to be alright, but she couldn’t. She needed to be smart about this- and the opportunity she’d been given was worth too much to pass up.

Merrick led them to one of the council rooms, one that Arianna had never really used in her time as queen. It was a smaller space, only twenty by twenty meters, with a large table set in the very center. Cerise was there as well, slouching in an ornate chair with her boots kicked up on the oak surface. She looked smug, rocking her chair on the back two legs. When Merrick entered the room, she let her chair hit the polished wooden floor with a thunk- and her grin turned into a smile with too many teeth.

“So it worked this time?” she asked, her voice echoing in the chamber. Merrick scowled, shoving at her as he drew close.

“You shut it,” he said, “I don’t know what happened with the crow- but I didn’t screw it up.”

“Sounds like denial to me, but whatever helps you sleep at night.” The younger woman grinned, “And we have news.”

Arianna tensed, but followed Frederic as Merrick gestured for them to sit. She did so, holding her head down so they couldn’t see the fright in her eyes. Had they found Varian?

“Did one of the patrols catch them?” Merrick asked, decidedly more excited than Arianna would think he could sound.

“Not quite.” Cerise grunted. She pulled out a map of the nearby territories, laying it out and setting it on the table. Arianna could see countless notes and lines drawn over its old, brittle surface. Cerise pointed with a thin finger, gesturing to a large city.

“They were spotted in Vardaros,” she said, and Arianna’s heart dropped. Cerise kept going, ignoring how Merrick shoved into her space to stand so they were side by side. “About a day ago.”

“All the way out there?” Merrick mumbled, “Damn, they’ve made good time.”

“They must be walking in basically a straight line.” Cerise agreed, “But I think I know where they’re headed.”

“You just said they were in Vardaros,” Merrick said, confused.

“Yeah, were in Vardaros- they would’ve moved on by now.”

“But why would they do that? The place is perfect to hide the crow.”

“Exactly, it’s too perfect. I’m willing to bet they stopped for supplies and kept going.”

“But where? They could be anywhere by now-”

“Not exactly.” Cerise cut her brother off, gesturing with her finger. “Look, they started in Corona-” Her finger jabbed at the map. “-And made a beeline towards Vardaros, but didn’t stay.” Her hand moved in a perfect line across the map to land on a tiny, painted version of the city. “So, then what?”

“Then they ran to wherever they were actually headed.” Merrick said, scratching at the back of his neck. “C’mon, ‘Rise, I’m not good at this tactical shit.”

Cerise rolled her eyes, but began to elaborate. She moved her hand along the same line that it had been travelling before, moving past Vardaros and off into the outer countryside. Merrick followed her finger with interest, as did Arianna.

“If Vardaros was a stop,” Cerise explained as she did so, “Then they weren’t making a beeline for the city- they were aiming directly at their final destination and Vardaros just happened to be in the way.”

“Oh.” Merrick said, drawing it out. “Duh.”

“Yeah, duh.”

“Shut up.”

Cerise only snorted, her finger trailing to a stop on what looked like a coffee stain on the parchment. She cocked her head, raising a brow. Her eyes focused on the spot, and she leaned forward for a closer look.

“Looks like the only place nearby is a place called… Pincosta,” she mused, and Arianna could hear the confusion in her voice. The queen tried to keep her breath from hitching- Rapunzel had told them about her adventures once the Saporian memory wipe was over, she knew her daughter had been to Pincosta. The panic in her chest came back with a vengeance, loud and screaming-

“Never heard of it.” Merrick grunted, pushing his sister’s hand out of the way to get a better look. Cerise seemed unaffected, slapping him on the shoulder in offense. “What the hell is it?”

“Me neither.” Cerise said, “I think they have a diamond or something that’s important. I dunno.”

“Why the hell would they go there? It’s out in the middle of nowhere, no fortifications. It’s just some shithole-”

“Makes it the perfect place to hide a crow from a pair of foreigners, then, doesn’t it?” Cerise murmured, something toxic entering her voice. Merrick’s confusion slowly morphed into something smug, the two siblings looking at each other with barely contained glee.

“Think you can beat them there?” Merrick’s voice was halfway to a laugh, his teeth flashing in the sunlight.

“Oh, I know I can.” Cerise said, “And if he’s that close to the border, then he’s close to-”

“Yep.”

“How convenient for us.”

“Yep.”

Cerise laughed, something nearly exasperated. “Bless the Highers, finally something goes our way.”

“It’s about time.” Merrick said in the same tone. “What will you need?”

“Just my horse.” Cerise said quickly. “I don’t want to spook them- small and discrete is the name of the game here.”

Merrick turned to Frederic, grinning. “Freddy, darling,” The man said, “If you could order your men to saddle the horse for my dear elder sister, that would be amazing.”

Frederic nodded at the command, standing from his chair and lumbering away.

“Gods, that’s so creepy.” Merrick said, watching the man go. “Like, really creepy.”

“Yeah, but useful.” Cerise shrugged. Merrick pursed his lips but nodded, conceding the point. Cerise smiled, turning to her brother with something feral in her eyes.

“I trust you’ll be able to take care of things while I’m gone?” she asked, and Merrick nodded. He looked down to the map, and then back up to his sister.

“Oh course,” the man assured, “We’ll be waiting for you here.”

Cerise firmly clapped Merrick on the shoulder, passing him and heading for the door. She had nearly made it out of the room when Merrick cleared his throat; she paused, looking back to him with an expectant look. Merrick seemed to want to say something, but he closed his mouth with a click, smiling instead. His next words sent shivers down Arianna’s spine.

“Happy hunting.”

[hillbillied]

(Warning: NSFW, entirely. 18+ smut content. | Ao3 link.)

After the war's end, Andy and Eddie invite their favourite mortarman over for a visit. Eugene agrees to the visit, and some other things.

The ruin of one Eugene Sledge (by pleasure of Andrew Haldane and Edward Jones)

They discuss it at length, the two of them.

Full novel length, chapters upon chapters, with subheadings and notes in the margin. Clauses and subclauses and sub-subclauses are proposed and ratified over the course of many an afternoon. Debates rattle over dinner plates, wild hypotheticals meet very real concerns for thorough consideration. (Which might be deemed a little much for what would probably fold into under five hours of action, including the inevitable water chugging between rounds.)

Their exceptional communication skills and stable relationship certainly allow proceedings to progress without a hitch. They have always discussed their sexual endeavours at length, after all.

Being in the commonly considered ‘sexual deviant’ category of existence means even your most vanilla sex is beyond the comprehendible realms of your white picket fence neighbours. (Not that they have a white picket fence. Theirs is cast iron. And their Boston apartment comfortably on the city lines, not in the suburbs.)

They end up taking no small amount of pride in it. That they can casually discuss exactly what turns them on, slipping further into potential depravity as they open up about themselves. Usually, however, these conversations last all of half an hour before they fall into bed to test their proposed plans. That aside, the process is exactly the same.

Andy says he’d be open to watching Eddie with another man. Or sharing him with another man. Or something to the ‘another man’ effect. Eddie asks him to elaborate.

Ack Ack considers, chews his lip with half-lidded eyes. “Maybe blowing him.” He says.

“Only if ye’ hold m’ hair.” comes the reply on Eddie’s part.

“You want me in control.” Andy deduces.

His aroused smirk makes Hillbilly’s blood boil. What a smart, omniscient cunt. The greatest displeasure? He’s right. That is exactly where his lover wants him.

They chew it over from there. Negotiations last longer than necessary due to constant courtroom breaks, since the prosecution and defence keep getting turned on and needing to take the time to fuck. The most fruitful discussions are never when the topic is spontaneously brought up, but rather at least an hour after, when Eddie’s lit his post-sex cigarette and Andy’s playing with his hair.

Eventually, the green light is given. They’re eating dinner across their humble wooden kitchen table. (Hillbilly’s gravy could drown a dead rat on a plate and it would still taste divine.) They’ve settled on an agreement and want to go ahead with the idea.

“Well,” Eddie says around a mouthful of beef, “Pick your man.”

   This choice is harder than it sounds because it has to be someone they know. They’re an item, sweet and simple. A stranger might get some bright ideas about their place in this scenario. Plus, it’s 1952. Some secrets need to remain under wraps.

Another problem is that the shortlist starts with Burgie.

Eddie’s rubbing his forehead in exasperation, reclining in their frayed armchair. “We attended his weddin’, Andy.” He explains, talking to nothing short of a fool, “Ye’ was with me in the arch a’ sabres.”

That absolute fool is currently pacing across the carpet, tapping his finger against his lips.

“Is it not polite to ask regardless?” Andy muses, pausing in his motions.

He receives an aggravated grunt. Low, drawn-out, and unimpressed.

“Not Burgin, then.” The captain finally acknowledges. The name is mentally crossed from the list, though not before he points an accusing finger his lover’s way, “But you wanted it, too.”

   After a deep, longing pull from his cigarette, Eddie gives the answer they’ve been looking for.

“Sledge.” He says.

The name floats upwards with the smoke. It catches on their small porch roof; one they share with the apartment next door, divided by more iron fencing. He’s sitting on the steps, Andy leaning against the doorframe behind him.

“What about him?” The blond asks. The conversation had previously been about weeding, what to do with all the insects tearing up the captain’s petunias.

Eddie takes another drag.

“He’s our third man.”

   “I know he’s queer,” Andy asks, “Does he know he’s queer?”

‘He’ is Eugene Sledge. The name stuck, dangling over their heads constantly since they’d been stupid enough to mention it. The possibility of their fantasy scenario drifts ever closer.

“By now, yeah.” Eddie says, staring up at their bedroom ceiling. He’s playing with his chest hair, curling it around his finger, “But I bet he ain’t got his dick wet much.”

Lying beside him, Ack Ack smothers his laughter in his lover’s neck. The words ring so horribly true. He reaches up regardless and slaps Hillbilly’s peck. Right on the nipple for that extra sting. The hiss the man emits confirms an acceptable amount of pain, retribution for his mean words. (Honest words but mean nonetheless.)

If they didn’t have sweat cooling on their bodies from a good fuck, the smack would turn Eddie on.

“It’ll be good f’ him.” He suggests instead, not wanting to earn another punishment.

“You think?” Andy replies, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Yeah.” Hillbilly says, “If he’s up fer’ it.”

   Andy writes the letter.

It’s scribbled with barely pent-up excitement and the slightest tremor in his hand. The penmanship is far from pristine, the careful innuendo and wax poetic only legally veiling the message conspired within. The raw arousal motivating the ink is on full display.

He’s absolutely fucking losing it.

Watching from the doorway, Eddie shakes his head. That’s the moment he knows Andrew has been fantasising about this longer than they’ve been discussing it.

He tries to pretend he’s shocked by the realisation.

   “Why Eugene?” Andy asks.

Again, for the fifteenth time. They have, as per, already discussed the reasoning at length. Eddie’s about ready to grab the man by his sweater vest and give him a good hard slap across the cheek.

Instead, he summarises.

“’cause he’s always wanted to fuck you, Andy.” Hillbilly explains, “And I’m about t’ let him.”

   If Eugene’s smart, which he is, he won’t pass up this opportunity.

If Eugene accepts the opportunity, which he does, any nervousness he may have will be proven weaker than his excitement over the proposition.

And if his excitement is that strong, which it definitely feels like, then it’ll be all over his face when he arrives in Boston.

Andy collects him from the train station. Hands in the pockets of his pale slacks and short-sleeved shirt tucked in. He’s wearing a braided belt because it complements the look. He’s gay and he’s about to show this young man a wild time, why not make it special from the start?

He waves at the redhead who steps off the 4 o’clock train from Birmingham. It’s sunny and warm, painting that ginger hair with yellow streaks. It’s very attractive when seen without the sweat and dirt of combat or those ugly helmets crushing it flat.

Not that they haven’t seen each other several times before now. This is the first time, however, that Eugene’s wore his shirt without a tie. Today, the white of his collar is unadorned, handsome beige suit jacket left unbuttoned. Casual, familiar. No formality in sight, which is relieving.

He’s got a green carnation pinned to his lapel.

Andy has to keep his smile from splitting his cheeks. It wouldn’t be polite to wear the satisfaction of victory across the entirety of his features.

   “I should have known you’d be familiar with Wilde’s work.” Andy says, referring to the flower.

He’s driving Eddie’s blue pickup, which they have come to share the use of. Fancy cars are for rich cocksuckers and married couples who don’t have the imagination to use the truck bed. You can’t fuck beneath the stars in an estate.

“It was always my favourite.” Eugene notes. He chews on the bit of his pipe thoughtfully, “Even when I couldn’t place quite why.”

“It’s a fantastic touch.” Ack Ack compliments.

Pleasantly calm, every glance he sends across the cab radiates pride. The young man – just a man, really, but that might teeter on Andy thinking himself ‘old’ and they would be having none of that – has grown so much since ’44.

Eugene’s strong nose and dark eyes will never bleed with unbreakable confidence, for sure. But that’s a favourable trait, it keeps him far from arrogance and the unattractive features that come with it. Yet Sledge is still surer of himself than he used to be. Or perhaps he’s just learnt to hide his self-consciousness. (Really, they’re the same thing.) The only hint of nervousness is the drumming of his nails against the door, resting his elbow out the open window. A touch of trepidation for what’s coming.

Keeping the wheel steady, Andy reaches out and places a hand on his company’s thigh.

Eugene doesn’t flinch as his captain used to expect. (They both distinctly remember how a tipsy and boisterous young lady had ran a hand over Sledge’s ass at Burgin’s wedding. The redhead had jumped high enough to paint the ceiling ginger. And spilt wine all over the poor girl’s dress.)

Good. Better than good.

“I’m glad you could come, Eugene.” With a laugh, Ack Ack quickly clarifies, “It’s always a pleasure to see you, I mean that wholeheartedly.”

Pink colours Sledge’s cheeks, his smile sweet. He’s convinced it’s the truth, should have known that already. That doesn’t make it any less warming to hear.

“I’ll admit I did consider replying in a more-“ He searches for the word across the dashboard, “-reserved nature, so I could visit without fear of gettin’ cold feet.”

The hand on his thigh is reservedly placed nearer his knee. It pats him comfortingly. Andy opens his mouth to speak and assure the young man that his excited scribbles – and the excited scribbled response – are not legally binding. They can enjoy a repeat of prior visitations if desired.

Eugene beats him to the punch.

“But sittin’ here now-”

Those dark brown eyes flutter downwards. Over the steering wheel, that neat braided belt, the front of Andy’s slacks. Sledge’s tongue flashes across his lips, wetting the dry skin. His pipe hovers uselessly, forgotten as his mind drifts elsewhere.

He catches himself enough to speak. His gaze is torn slowly from the fabric over his company’s cock.

“I think I made the right decision.” He mutters. It’s quiet and a little shy, but not unsure.

The fingers on his thigh squeeze happily.

   Eddie opens the door with a grin of true happiness. The sunlight turns his curls that slightest hint of ginger, though it’s nothing on the crop of hair sliding out the passenger side of his truck.

“Eugene Sledge.” He drawls like he can’t believe his eyes, like he isn’t in on the plan. His arms are folded loosely across his chest, “M’ favourite mortarman.”

Jury might be out on that one, prior to this moment. Right now? This is absolutely his favourite mortarman.

“Hillbilly.” Eugene greets with a bashful smile.

There’s a respect lingering there that has already been dropped with Andy. Not that it didn’t take a couple of years’ effort to achieve that, too. They’re steadily working their way to Sledge dropping all pretence from the Marines, the two of them. They are so remarkably close, the title of captain and lieutenant fully thrown to the wind sometime around 1948.

That might prove to be a spanner in the works later. Andy fully planned on bringing those titles back this evening.

For now, though, he focuses on Eugene and Eddie.

“It’s good t’ see you ag’in.” The latter says.

They stand as far apart as the compact space of the porch allows. (Not much, apparently.) They both glance Andy’s way as he shuts the cast iron gate and ascends the steps. He’s carrying Eugene’s suitcase like a gentleman. Now there’s three grown men in a one-and-half-man area of entranceway.

Eddie has to huff out a laugh. He kicks the door open behind him.

“C’mon,” He says, “We’re drawin’ more attention with this tomfoolery than if I’d kissed ye’.”

   It’s a pleasure of an afternoon.

Eugene helps Eddie cook dinner. Andy had insisted on it. A strategic placement of their visitor, if he does say so himself, perfectly aligned so the two can share close quarters. Unpressured by expectations and protected by clothing for the time being. Sledge chops vegetables, unphased as Hillbilly stands behind him, chest against his back to guide his hand.

Their captain sips his tea from the kitchen table. His boys work to cook a meal for him to enjoy, at his instruction, without him lifting a finger. That victory smile returns and this time he can hide it behind his mug.

While he’s certain Eugene will be learning a few things tonight about how to draw submission from a man, there’s no outmanoeuvring a master.

   They eat, they talk. Some of it about the letter’s content and expectations for the evening. Most of it about how Alabama is and Eugene’s new job. About the petunias in the front garden and the pests that are ruining them.

Eventually, they clean their plates away. (Well, two of them do. Andy gets brought more tea.) They retire to the sitting room. It’s small and cosy. Andy takes the armchair, facing the men on the couch so he can actually finish his drink in relative peace.

Eddie sits and reclines against the arm of the sofa, head propped up by his hand. Eugene moves to sit on the other end. His company has different plans.

Hillbilly grunts. A complete and non-verbal ‘no’. Ass halfway to its destination, Sledge is off balance enough that the arm around his waist completely topples him. He’s brought down in the middle of the couch, all but in Eddie’s lap were it not for their closed legs.

They all laugh at the familiar horseplay. It’s short only a ruffle of red hair. (The lieutenant declines that, it’d be too condescending considering he plans on blowing this boy’s mind soon. And blowing him, period.)

“You gonna surprise me like that every time I sit down?” Eugene asks.

“I’m gon’ surprise ye’ a whole lot.” Eddie replies.

Andy hums approvingly into his mug. They both turn his way. It’s a good distraction; the redhead doesn’t notice Hillbilly adjusting their position. Getting comfy with the other man leaning against his chest, his hand coming to rest on Sledge’s hip. A warm hand on warm skin, separated only by thin shirt fabric. His thumb rubs small circles over the ribs he can reach.

“Let that inform tonight’s exploits,” Ack Ack muses, finished with his tea, “Whatever they may be.”

He sets the mug down on the small table to his left, beside the room’s ashtray. Eugene’s raised eyebrow begs him to explain.

Andy obliges. “Eddie can lift me quite easily.” He says, “He could probably break either of us in two. Don’t worry about playing rough.”

Behind his head, Sledge can feel the warmth of Eddie’s grin at the acute description. A strong arm is slung around his shoulder now, no longer content on his hip. The taller man’s hand is running over his chest absentmindedly, brushing his collarbone. Without any conscious effort on his part, Eugene has leant his full weight backward and against the warmth holding him.

“I have every confidence that if he wants you to stop,” Andy continues with a shrug, “He’ll stop you.”

Sledge glances to his right, head turned just enough to glimpse confirmation. At his back, he can see Hillbilly’s smile. His lips brush red hair as he speaks into the young man’s ear.

“He’s right.” is whispered against his skin, “But he’s still bein’ a bastard about it.”

“How am I being a bastard?” Andy laughs.

“Ye’ just are.” Eddie calls across the room.

They all chuckle. If they can’t have a sense of humour about this, there’s no point even attempting the deed. A little comedy won’t kill the mood and can save most faux pas.

During their bit, Eugene’s hand drifts to Hillbilly’s thigh. Testing at first, fingers ghosting over the thick denim of his jeans. Then pressing down, sliding over the fabric close to his knee. It sits there presently, finally building up the confidence to squeeze exploratively.

Those dark brown eyes glance down at his own machinations. Eddie’s hand on his chest slides across his peck, arm around Sledge’s shoulder gripping him tighter.

Andy sits back in his armchair, stretches his back. He’s convinced he can watch this forever. Or however long it takes to play out, at least.

“I want you to know,” Eugene drawls softly, his focus still on rubbing circles on Hillbilly’s thigh, “I’m not the most experienced at this.”

Politely, neither of the other men mention their knowledge of the fact. (Especially not mentioning how the fact may have played into a prior discussion.)

“Experience isn’t particularly important.” Andy says, “Attitude and a little guidance goes a long way.”

His fingers play idly with the handle of the mug at his side. Every pair of eyes are on him, yet he can’t care less. He looks like he can’t care less, cultivates the persona whilst he speaks with absolute authority.

“For example,” Ack Ack explains, “If Eddie were to keep his hands to himself for a moment…”

There’s no ‘if’ present in his tone. The hypothetical is a veiled command, upheld by the man who uttered it with crossed legs and gaze focused nonchalantly on his empty mug.

Eugene feels the rumble in Hillbilly’s chest behind him. That large hand retreats from where it had ventured over his nipple. While still leaning against the tall man, Sledge is no longer held captive in his grasp. (Not that he wanted his hostage situation to end.) Eddie even sits back, arms now slung over the back and arm of the couch, respectively. The heat of his breath disappears from the redhead’s ear.

All without so much as a raise of Andy’s voice.

“Then,” The blond continues, turning to the pair on his own cue, “You can come sit over here, and I can show you exactly what I mean.”

As Eugene stands, he uses the hand on Hillbilly’s thigh for leverage. It’s the last part of him to abandon the couch, sliding his way over to the armchair with all the grace he can muster. His steps are casual, taking their time. An impressive display, complimented by the hands casually slipped into the pockets of his slacks. Like he’s in no rush, can’t care less.

(Behind him, Eddie forces down a knowing smile. There’s no finer flattery than imitation and the young man has always been a fast learner. Copying Captain Haldane, even now, will serve him well.)

Dark eyes meet pale blue for a moment at the armchair crossroads. Andy uncrosses his legs, spreading them wide to he can lean purposefully on his knee. Eugene’s eyes wander back over the front of those beige slacks. The fabric had been just a fraction tense during their car ride. It sits taught in the living room, but it’s not for Sledge to ogle freely.

Andy reaches up and tilts the man’s chin towards his face. Eyes on mine, please.

Eugene’s smile has grown bashful under the gaze of Captain Haldane. He doesn’t reach to touch like he had with Eddie. That stare is intense. It’s too much too soon and Ack Ack can recognise that. Not a problem.

“Unlike our rude associate over there,” Andy teases, bringing some comedy back into the thickness of the air, “I’m going to ask you to sit down.”

“The rudeness was ye’ takin’ that boy off this couch before I was done with him.” Eddie remarks.

He makes no move to leave his position or rectify the offence.

“Can you believe him?” Andy mutters.

The soft-spoken, relaxed-rhetorical disguises the arms he puts around Eugene’s hips. Turning him around without meeting his eyes, acting as he had with the mug. Calm, collected, like it’s nothing of note to him. Manhandling the chuckling redhead to face away, towards Hillbilly. (Out of line with that intense stare, until further notice.)

Pausing his motions, Andy glances up at Eugene. He nods, satisfied.

He then waves his hand across his lap.

“There’s enough space for both of us.” He comments.

Sledge, no doubt picking it up from the bastard tactics continuing across the evening, frowns for a moment. His consideration is definitely not genuine.

“I think there is.” He agrees. Andy beams in response.

Eugene settles down between his legs, the armchair being fairly deep. (It isn’t a lie to say it can fit them both.) Ack Ack adjusts himself with a hum, arms around his company’s waist. Hugging him momentarily to set him just-so.

His forearms withdraw partially but leave his hands to dangle between Eugene’s legs. Noncommittally, tapping the muscles of his inner thighs as if it were the arms of the chair. He’s thinking.

“Mnn, yes.” Andy concludes, “This is much better.”

Orange hues momentarily bring Eddie’s face into sharp relief. His pale eyes are absolutely fixed on the display, flashing in the flame of his lighter. Smoke trails towards the ceiling, unnoticed. His first drag is deep, steeling himself. He scratches his crotch without shame, the denim only failing to tent due to its weight.

The two men in the armchair embrace the staring competition.

“What was I talking about before this?” Andy chuckles against Sledge’s ear.

“Attitude and guidance.” The redhead recalls.

“Right.” It comes out as another laugh.

The captain is enjoying himself and it shows. Far too much for the role he’s playing within their trio, relying on his collected vigour to operate the steering wheel.

“Well, attitude is obviously about a man’s words, his manner, his posture-” Firm hands run up over Eugene’s forearms and onto his shoulders, “Making sure your orders are followed without needing to ever threaten a punishment.”

Those fingers roll the muscles under them, relaxing Sledge’s posture. Who hums instinctively, blush returning as he shamefully enjoys the feeling of his beloved captain massaging him. Doting on him, Ack Ack’s handsome nose gently poking the soft skin behind his ear.

“Not that you should be afraid to mention punishments.” Andy mutters. His eyes trot leisurely over to Eddie before trotting leisurely to Eugene, “Rewards just work better.”

His breathing is perfectly regulated as he moves his lips to Sledge’s cheek. Suspiciously perfect, timed and regimented into slow, deliberate motions of his chest. (Without the heavy cloud of lust on the redhead’s mind, he might have deduced that the captain is reigning himself in purposefully. That his collected aura is but a façade to an equally aroused interior.)

“So,” He whispers, hot and husky against Eugene’s ear, “We could ask Eddie to take all his clothes off and say we’d whoop him if he didn’t, or-”

The sentence is punctuated by a jerk of Andy’s head, turning to face the man on the couch opposite. The motion brings cold air to the skin he’d been breathing on, making Sledge inhale sharply. As if he’d been spanked. He enjoys the sensation.

“Take your clothes off, Jones.” Ack Ack orders.

His tone is grave, terrifyingly level with just enough give to keep it below a threat. A perfect command.

“Can I finish m’ smoke first, Skipper?” Hillbilly asks. He hadn’t waited for an answer, already sitting up from where he’d been reclining and rubbing himself through his jeans. An order is an order, after all.

Andy blinks, raising his eyebrows in consideration. He chews it over but gives no answer. He turns to Eugene instead. The redhead mirrors him, both twisting in their entangled sitting position so they can face each other. Ack Ack waits for his response.

“No.” Sledge says carefully, studying the blond’s features.

Though nowhere close to the dominating tone before, Eddie relents. This isn’t a competitive match. It’s a team game and he definitely wants to continue playing. He crosses the short few paces of the room and leans towards the pair.

The other men watch as he bends before them, head bowing as he stubs his unfinished cigarette into the ashtray beside Andy’s mug. Hillbilly twists the smoke gradually, holding himself in that position, an inch lower than their seated statures.

When he straightens up, he steps back a single pace. Enough that he can move his arms freely without fearing his elbow will whack anyone’s skull as he pulls his t-shirt over his head. He tosses it away dismissively.

Andy can feel Eugene’s chest rise with elation as Eddie’s muscles are brought into the light. Just as Eugene can feel Andy’s erection twitch, against the base of his spine, when the man’s boyfriend undresses for them.

Hillbilly is smart enough to have removed his socks earlier and avoid the difficult chore of tugging them off for an audience. He can smirk freely, letting his heavy belt buckle rattle in the quiet room as he tugs it free. He looks like he’s about to drop it when Andy holds out his hand. His fingers make a come-hither gesture.

Sledge’s chest hitches a second time as the folded leather slaps against Ack Ack’s palm.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” He says, pulling the belt into Eugene’s lap.

Eddie huffs out the ghost of a laugh. Yet he averts his eyes and scratches the front of his jeans, failing to cover the elation and arousal he takes from Andy’s simple gratitude.

“Praise goes a long way, Eugene.” The captain muses.

His hands are slipped under the man’s arms, using one to draw the belt across the palm of the other. All done in Sledge’s lap, the leather falling free to drag across the front of his slacks. Accidentally, of course.

Eddie pops the buttons of his jeans one by one. Eugene fights to draw his eyes away, finally turning to Andy. Whether brewing with confidence or just overwhelmed with lust, it doesn’t matter; he presses his face to Ack Ack’s cheek.

“It’s hard to order an officer around-” He hisses. His breathing is the opposite of Andy’s, uncomposed and erratic as he speaks, “-as an enlisted man.”

Andy sniggers quietly, nodding his agreement. The hand unclaimed by the belt retreats, fishing around in his pocket for a brief moment. It returns to Eugene’s lap in time with the fall of Hillbilly’s jeans. The tall man steps free and kicks them aside.

The removal of his underwear is paused only by his wide grin, shake of his head, and hands landing on his hips.

“Ye’ are a bastard.” He concludes, watching Andy clip a silver bar pin to the collar of Sledge’s shirt.

Two bars joined together, in fact. The insignia of a captain.

“Congratulations, Captain Sledge.” Ack Ack says, “You outrank our friend here.”

All three of them laugh, giggles that rattle their chests and set the final ghosts of tension adrift. You have to have a sense of humour in these scenarios.

“You’re very prepared.” Eugene notes. He’s smiling as he says it.

It’s an accusation rather than a compliment. The blond has to suffer a moment of all eyes on him and not in a submissive sense; in a pointed, silent judgement sense. He’s been planning this longer and more in depth than he’d admitted, even to Eddie.

Not one to let his authority slip, Andy lets his chuckle fade.

Both his hands move in unison, a precise pincer movement on the room. His right reaches down between Eugene’s legs, grabbing a handful of the man’s slacks. His fingers tug towards him, forcing a yelp from Sledge as his cock is squeezed suddenly. Ack Ack’s left hand, still holding the belt, cracks it hard against the armrest. It lets out a distinct smack that has even Eddie’s back straightening.

“Thought I told you to strip, Eddie.” Andy muses, tilting his head up to fix Hillbilly with a small, pleasant smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s being kept waiting.

His hand is moving against Sledge’s slacks as he speaks. Palming his length, feeling it already stiff and yearning under the fabric.

Eddie catches his eye briefly, cheek twitching in that familiar lustful frustration that they both know means they’ve struck oil. His thumbs hook into his underwear and pull them down. He straightens up without another word.

For the first time, Andy has to take a steadying breath. (Hillbilly probably notices, Sledge definitely doesn’t. The former’s lip curls just a touch.) With his hand kneading Eugene’s dick and his own pressed tantalisingly up against the redhead’s ass, the heat is more than even Captain Haldane can ignore. The pleasure of drinking Eddie in is exquisite, every curve of his muscles and colour of his ink, his unsheathed cock bouncing free from his waistband.

He forgets occasionally that the hill country man really can snap the two of them in half. He’s incredibly muscular, built like a brick shithouse. It’s only his height, drawing his limbs out a little lankier, that hides the weight behind his hands.

Andy huffs quietly. Short and soft and barely audible. The exhale allows him to turn back to Sledge, who’s head has tipped back, leaning on his shoulder. The redhead’s eyes remain on Eddie, watching with stricken desire as he grinds rhythmically against Ack Ack’s hand. None of his usual gentlemanly conversation will be escaping him presently.

“Do you want him to suck you off here or in the bedroom?” Andy asks. His lips press hard against the man’s ear, tilting their weight against the armrest.

Around gritted teeth, Sledge manages; “Bedroom.”

“You heard the Captain.” Ack Ack says, nodding Eddie’s way. His grip releases from Eugene’s slacks.

Hillbilly reaches out his hand. Sledge takes it enthusiastically. The taller man leads the way, squeezing his smitten follower’s fingers.

Neither of them catches how Andy exhales, a quiet ‘woah’ blowing out his cheeks as he composes himself. A glance down at his slacks reveals the smallest of droplets seeping into the fabric. He considers himself lucky he’s still hard and hasn’t come prematurely.

He wipes his brow, gets his shit together, and stands up to follow.

[the-empress-7]

“Eugenie got a reduce fee on school tuition” This is weird. Tuition costs for uni aren’t paid upfront in the U.K. Basically the government pays and then you pay off the loan with a % deduction from you paycheque once you earn over £20,000 PA. Her dad did open their student and administrative services building in 2010 (Eug graduated 2012) BUT he was U.K. gov trade envoy at the time.

I have to put tow kids through college, I think I need to move. Ready for sticker shock? The current annual cost of attending Northwester University (Meghan’s alleged alma mater) is $75,000 per year (exclusive of grants and scholarships). 

[lifetrader]

My sis tried to drink a shot of apple cider vinegar once per day,,,only did maybe 3 or 4 days

EUG H ..... I CAN ONLY IMAGINE HOW GROSS IT WOULD B

[444names]

welsh and american names

Adkin Aelwens Alen Alfreene Alinez Almes Alstoni Alvia Amelian Anard Ander Andicky Angwyne Anton Aphughn Apricia Apsims Arancia Arddus Arta Athanson Austie Aye Bairwise Bakerr Bald Bank Barberts Bards Barth Bassey Bederin Belton Bent Bentle Bert Beth Bett Billam Billps Bish Bith Biver Blan Blanklin Bled Bledward Bobbins Bon Bow Bowelly Bra Brada Bradoc Bran Breen Brew Bridd Broa Broke Burne Burran Burto Cadie Cadwen Callen Cames Card Carona Cath Cathews Ceirian Ceriddle Cerien Chamber Channie Chara Chez Christen Christon Clainez Clairez Clarris Claugh Collarry Comb Conles Contes Conwe Cord Curlie Cynandez Dall Danie Danies Danna Dard Dary Daugh Deinley Delice Delona Denix Denna Dia Dianwy Donovane Dor Downloan Downs Dows Dra Dunca Dura Duranwen Dwing Dyla Eatrings Edmon Edmontry Edwardo Edwen Ela Elaethan Ell Erince Ess Esween Euges Eugess Evanson Evens Ewis Fer Ffionwen Fin Fish Flemona Fole Francia Frandre Franod Frey Frosa Fulline Gailey Galexis Gar Garney Garr Garronwy Gavis Georgan Georged Georgiad Georgio Ger Giley Gilla Gilmora Gitte Glender Glynne Gofan Gonzaler Grahan Gregins Griff Griffan Grovey Gruffman Guez Guth Gwillah Hamire Hammon Harl Harne Harristy Her Hew Hilia Hodgers Holcox Holey Hollie Hollwen Holton Hoperry Huben Huffyd Hughs Hultz Hwyer Hyden Ionwy Isa Ivanson Jami Jeaneda Jeannon Jeffen Jeffredo Jenner Jeres Jeron Jessell Jodyn Jonald Jord Josephs Joses Kariall Kathias Katricks Kaylan Keithews Kene Kentes Kiddler Know Kris Land Laney Leanner Lefin Leodom Levin Lewise Lilly Lleula Llewelle Llock Llywelly Lon Lope Lore Loresa Louglad Low Luel Madden Maggina Mald Marawn Marger Margia Marguez Maries Marios Marke Mas Mass Mather Mathian Matti Mcbrieth Mcdanie Mcleon Mcmilton Mcphell Mcpherry Meador Medith Medwalls Meil Melia Melina Melvia Menee Mennette Ments Meremy Meren Merma Merrell Merry Merson Michmona Michoa Middley Mine Modri Moll Monia Mood Moodyn Moone Mor Morald More Morridge Morush Morwell Morwen Mull Mullouis Myfanner Myrich Myrtley Nam Nather Nathews Nathis Navaren Navarez Nell Nery Nichanne Nie Nield Ning Nor One Ortine Othy Owennie Owin Parry Patrina Paulio Pearcia Pent Per Pericks Perra Pie Polins Pomfredo Popela Portis Powen Prichen Privan Racy Ram Rancey Randa Randra Raque Raulkner Reeze Regins Reynol Rhia Rhianan Rhodges Rhodro Rhony Rhuffydd Rhydia Riggings Ril Ritchad Rited Ritte Rivacy Riven Robartha Robernam Rochella Rodge Rolly Rutley Ryabbie Salands Samuel Samuelyn San Sancent Sand Santina Santu Sargan Saria Schno Scurlott Searcer Serg Serry Shanett Sheron Shop Sionall Skinne Skins Skinson Son Sophen Stall Stane State Ster Sters Stewarry Ston Sullo Susick Swena Tabitte Ter Terrelle Terrina Thompton Thonya Timonds Timonton Ton Tranog Travena Tudore Tyre Unlessie Upris Van Vans Vanson Ver Vick Vicks Wadett Walle Wallies Walterek Waltney Warty Watt Weet Weis Wheese Whynn Willis Willock Winn Winnion Wis Writt Yance Yatte Yeardo Yorkman Youent Zimmie