#and then I spend the day in unfathomable luxury and ease

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

I've said it before and I will say it again now

Ladies, you are just never, ever going to be satisfied

Men, despite having every advantage in the world, are also miserable

[canisalbus]

It's probably fair to say that, as a child, Machete's goal was to just survive. Even as a young adult, survival obviously remained a principle goal.

But slowly, over time, he gained power, and is now a cardinal. He no longer struggles to fend off death (weakened constitution notwithstanding.) He probably still sees himself as trying to survive day-to-day, but clearly it becomes more than that, even if he's not fully cognizant of it.

I guess what I'm wondering is, besides "survival", what are Machete's goals? As a cardinal or otherwise. What prevents him from leaving or resigning his post? Does he have aspirations other than Vasco? Does he see himself as subservient to God, or is it something else?

I'd say his aspirations are pretty mundane. Security and stability are probably the biggest priorities overall, financially and health-wise. He doesn't thrive in unreliable and unpredictable surroundings. The fact that he knows he will have his basic needs met for the foreseeable future, there are people ready to prepare him a warm bath at a moment's notice, a reputable doctor to look after him, and armed guards that are never too far away, eases his mind considerably. A large part of his work revolves around routine, carefully crafted plans and immutable etiquette, with relatively few unpleasant surprises. He's so high in the hierarchy that very few people can treat him disrespectfully and get away with it.

He wants to prove that he's capable, competent and useful. His deeply rooted inferiority complex (that largely stems from the demeaning and belittling way his mentor treated him when he was his apprentice) has made him a lifelong overachiever, which in turn has served him well in his career. He's ambitious and driven but I wouldn't call him power-hungry in an egoistical way, he can come across as overbearing but it's because he's a perfectionist control freak who's obsessed with doing his job well and has a tendency to think most people around him aren't up to the task. He isn't in it for fame and wealth in itself, it's more about having a purpose that makes you worthy of respect.

On a more personal level he's passionate about reading, studying and learning. Partly because he's inquisitive and genuinely enjoys it, knows he's good at it and feels good about being good at it, but also because he wants to be the most learned, most cultured and most academic person in the room. Not necessarily for bragging rights, but to feel like being smart will always keep him one step ahead of the others and that way no one can pull the rug from under his feet.

He would never be able to afford the things he wears and the luxuries he has access to if his life hadn't taken the exact turns it did. He spent his early childhood in a monastery and was trained by a priest who valued asceticism and self-denial so he didn't have a lot of nice things growing up. Now as a high ranking church official he has more spending money than he could've imagined, and while he has an expensive taste, he oftentimes fails to enjoy the benefits of his status properly. He has a comfortable home with a massive bed, but it's not uncommon for him to sleep in his office or forgo rest completely. Even though he could be savoring the rarest most complex dishes every day, there aren't a lot of foods he likes eating. He would like to look pretty but even his outlandishly costly and carefully tailored silk garments can't redeem the fact he doesn't feel comfortable in his skin.

He can't resign because his sense of self-worth and lifestyle are tied to his job. It's the one thing he's demonstrably skilled at. He's worked himself to the bone to get where he is now and the prospect of losing it is simply unfathomable. He doesn't have ties to his biological family and his friends are few and far between, if he gave up his position he'd have functionally no one to rely on but Vasco. On top of that he does feel like he owes his life to the church and serving it to his best ability is his lot in life. His state of faith and relationship with God is complicated at best but he's nonetheless terrified of what might happen and how he might be punished if he ever chose to abandon his post.

[the-everlasting-dream]

Xin Teng - Liam x MC [x Drake], TRR AU

Part 2 of Unfathomable

Summary: The day they were supposed to have the funeral

A/N: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HEED THE TRIGGER WARNINGS!! We will be going into explicit confronting material about sensitive topics that can be triggering. 

Word Count: 4426

Warnings: Blood, mentions of death, miscarriage, description of injury, angst, grief. 

Permanent tags: @choicessa, @meeraaverywalker , @drakewalkerwhipped , @thewolvesss ,  @mfackenthal , @srawesleyghuewrites , @topsyturvy-dream , @enmchoices , @gardeningourmet @debramcg1106 , @alesana45 , @meladoridarcy, @blackcatkita , @tmarie82 , @annekebbphotography , @lizk77 , @jayjay879 , @tornbetween2loves , @akrenich , @theroyalweisme , @likethetailofacomet , @sleepwalkingelite , @littleblossom-18 , @ooo-barff-ooo TRR only: @speedyoperarascalparty , @carabeth , 

Unfathomable AU tags: @akrenich , @hopefulmoonobject , @wannabemc2 , @romanticheart-posts , @bobasheebaby , @sstee1 , @mrsdrakewalkerblog @furiousherringoperatortoad , @indicater , @h3llostrang3r , @innerpostmentality , @queencatherynerhys , @innerpostmentality , @drakewalkerisreal , 

 Xinteng 

noun 心疼 Chinese 

The Literal translation of heartache. The particular kind of sadness and pain that comes from witnessing and sharing the pain of people you love.

Liam stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar. Today wasn’t going to be easy. 

 Today he had to farewell his best friend of more years than he could count. There was nothing that could have prepared him for it. In his mind, Drake would have always been a part of his future, his best friend, trusted advisor and maybe even a member of the royal council, if he managed to talk him into it. Drake had been such a permanent fixture in his life, it was a core fact that he just knew. They would have been brothers for life, supporting each other until well after they were old and grey, there was no question about it and he had no reason to think otherwise until… now.. 

The reality of it finally seemed to hit him hard as he donned his outfit for the funeral —  a suit, all black — doing up each button seemed to take a colossal effort. His own blue eyes, hollow and stared back at him as he relived the thoughts and feelings of the last few days. The day they switched off the life support would haunt him forever, he knew that. It had been almost a week and he still felt everything so viscerally, almost like he was living it all again. Everything… Holding Elizabeth’s sobbing body as she tried to claw at the doctors... feeling frustration so intense he wanted to scream and never stop... begging and pleading with Drake to come back... feeling his pulse ebb away when he didn’t….

The emptiness was the worst…  emptiness that ate at him, slowly crawling its way under his skin to hollow out everything that could make him feel okay again… He marvelled at the immense impact that one person had, it was almost like Drake’s presence had left a huge hole in his soul that he had no idea how to begin to fill.  Sadness, pain and anger reared their ugly heads again inside him, tussling for which one would gain control over what was left of him. 

God Drake why did you have to-

The door opened abruptly and Liam brushed at the hot tears that has escaped him as his father's reflection appeared in the mirror. He clenched his jaw, willing himself to regain his composure, taking a deep breath before turning to face the other man.   

‘Father.’ His tone was cool. 

 ‘Son,’ Constantine replied in kind, eyes travelling over Liam’s figure ‘I see you’re ready for today… I can only imagine how tough this must be for you.' 

He was dancing around the subject — a subtle shift in his figure was enough to betray his ruse. Liam had to bite his cheek to prevent his face from morphing into disgust at his father’s gall to hide his ulterior motive for their conversation under the false pretence of affection. 

 ‘You’ve obviously come here to say something, Father,’ he replied, his tone measured as the tension between them thickened. ‘Just when I thought you’d come to comfort me on the day of my best friend’s funeral… I suppose I shouldn’t have been so generous with my assumptions.’ 

‘I suppose there’s not point beating around the bush..’ the old man replied, easing himself into the armchair. ‘Have you spoken to Duchess Elizabeth?’ 

 Liam scoffed, adjusting his cufflinks. ‘What do you think?' 

‘Don’t take that smart tone with me, boy,’ Constantine replied, voice restrained with fury. ‘The future of our country is at stake. We do not have the luxury of time. And I will not stand to see it be ruined by your indecision.' 

A deep rage flared up in Liam. 'For Pete’s sake, he was my best friend!’ He roared, not caring if he was heard throughout the palace. 'She’s his lover and today is his funeral. How can you possibly want me to bring up the subject of marriage?' 

'Liam I know its not ideal but we have to think of the future of our country,’ Constantine told him firmly, unperturbed by the outburst. 'Waiting is not a luxury one has as a monarch. The people look to the crown for stability. Duchess Elizabeth is the best insurance of that.’ 

He shut his eyes, swallowing hard, trying to keep his conflicting emotions at bay, like he’d done for all his life. ‘Why does it have to be her Father? Why are you so adamant that I marry her? Olivia, Madeleine, Hana Lee, hell even Kiara Castelsareillan or Penelope Portavira would be perfectly suitable for the role. Why do you insist on Elizabeth?’ 

 His father was already shaking his head. ‘You really want me to list it out for you? Fine. I’m sure I don’t need to reiterate how brash Olivia Nevrakis is, the people will never accept a Nevrakis on the throne, particularly after her parents’ betrayal. As for Lady Hana, there’s no denying she’s talented but the poor girl has no control over her feelings, anyone with eyes could see that she’s incapable of being with a man.’ 

Liam noted the bitterness on his father’s face after voicing that as Constantine continued. ‘If you hadn't made such a public spectacle of ending your engagement with Madeleine, perhaps we could have salvaged something of this mess, but nooo you had to announce it publicly.. Let's face it the other two are addled idiots anyway. Do I need to go on?’ 

He ignored the withering look his father gave him, turning away stubbornly. ‘Why can’t we just call for another season? Surely I-‘

‘Think Liam,’ his father hissed venomously. ‘Our royal court was just attacked in the palace, supposedly the most secure place in the country. The people are shaken, its only a matter of time before they come stampeding to the gates with torches and pitchforks, calling for our heads. We need a solution to this and now. Cordonia needs stability not the king spending their precious funds to pander to his indecision when the perfect candidate seems to exist already. As much as I hate to admit it, your precious duchess holds the people's favour something we desperately need right now after her performance during the social season. To them she represents stability and hope, two things even you have to recognise we are running short on.' 

Though he could understand his underlying reasoning, Liam couldn’t believe the words coming from the man he called his father. Did he seriously expect him to ask the love of his life to marry him on today of all days? How was he to even think of proposing to Elizabeth when Drake was barely in his coffin? 

 'Am I not allowed one day to grieve? To cry? To be a man first then a king?' 

‘Liam, like it or not you are the crown now. Everything you do is reflection of the crown’s intentions.’ Constantine was on his feet now, glaring back at him. 'You took a vow to protect this country and I will not stand by and watch you run it to ruin. If I have to take it into my own hands, so be it.’ 

 Liam narrowed his eyes. ‘Is that a threat?' 

‘I am not afraid to defend my country. By any means necessary.'

Tension crackled in the air around them. Both men stood toe to toe, locked in a standoff pulled to full height, Liam over his father by a few inches who glared back defiantly. His mouth was already opening to reprimand him when — 

 ‘Your Majest-'

‘What?!’ He bellowed at the young footman that opened the door, not taking his eyes off Constantine. ‘Can’t you see I’m occupied!?’ 

‘A-a-apologised Y-your M-majesty, it-its-its-,' The poor boy sputtered in terror unable to speak clearly. 

 ‘Well?’ Liam demanded impatiently, turning his head to zero in on him. 

 ‘I-Its the Duchess!’ The boy finally burst out. ‘She’s locked herself in her room and she won’t come out!’ 

‘This is preposterous! The stupid girl is having a temper tantrum,’ Constantine scoffed Liam spun on his heel, grabbing his father by the collar, rage in every word. ‘Speak one more word about Elizabeth and I’ll have you hanged for treason.’ 

 Ignoring his father’s protest, Liam ran.

-

His feet traced the steps to Elizabeth’s room of their own accord, shoving past staff members, barely acknowledging their grunts of annoyance and cries of surprise at their king dashing through the hallways like the devil himself was on his heels. No, he only had one objective in mind. 

 Elizabeth. Elizabeth. Why the hell was her room so far away?

Rounding the corner, he found himself standing at the locked door to her suite, Mara and the other servants pounding on the barrier. ‘Your Majesty we tried everything. We sent for a lock smith but she’s got something over the door on the inside,’ Mara reported, her hands red raw. ‘We’ve got security ready to scale the outside of the building, to come through the window.’ 

’Tell them to stand down,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll handle this.’   

The bodyguard did not look pleased but nodded once, raising a hand to her earpiece. 

 ‘Elizabeth?’ Liam called out, placing a hand on the door. ‘Its me… Its.. Liam. Are you okay?’ 

There was no response. Liam frowned in confusion. This was highly uncharacteristic of the Elizabeth Richmond he knew. Or maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought... 

‘Elizabeth, open up,’ his voice was more urgent now, unable to keep his mind from conjuring up the worst images. 

He raked over memories of the past days, trying to find something, anything that would clue him into why she was acting like this. He immediately cursed himself. How could she not be herself given all that had happened? But still he needed to know, he needed to see her with his own two eyes to make sure she was okay. And with every second that ticked by, the conclusions he was jumping to seemed to be worse and worse. 

‘Please. Elizabeth. Its Liam.’ Still nothing.

‘Leave me alone with her,’ Liam ordered before turning back to the door. 'Liz… please… Open up. I just… need to know that you’re okay…’ 

 He rested his head against the door and a faint sob could be heard through the wood. Alarm came flooding back into his face, galvanising him. 

 ‘Elizabeth open up or I’ll break the door down if I have to.’ 

 Liam’s senses tingled, strained to detect some sign, any thing to dissuade him. Receiving none, he sighed in resignation, before aimed a powerful kick at the door to the suite. His blow held so much force it struck the the offending — a chair — that had been holding the door shut and stepping over it, his eyes moved frantically over the unmade bed and seemly empty room. 

 The sound of another sob turned his head towards the closed door of the bathroom and springing it open, found Elizabeth lying in foetal position on the bathroom floor. He immediately moved to drop to his knees beside her before he slipped suddenly. He reflexively flung a hand out to support himself against the toilet bowl. After sufficiently steadying himself, he drew his hand back only to find it covered in… crimson. 

The dart of relief that was forming in his chest immediately vanished as Liam’s blue eyes took in the entire scene where the floor was covered in blood all originating from… Elizabeth's voice was softer than a whisper and coarse than sandpaper as she turned her fractured gaze to his, tears welling in her eyes. 

‘I… I-I… He.. Drake...’ She choked on his name, fresh sobs erupting from her body. Her hand clutched the toilet, leaving a smear of blood in its place before her arm gave out and she collapsed onto the floor, lacking the strength to even hold herself upright. ‘There’s so much blood…’ She croaked brokenly, eyes unfocused as she scanned the scene around her. 'W-why is there so much blood?'

Her words broke Liam out of his frozen stupor. ‘Elizabeth,’ His voice was hoarse as his mind slowly pieced together what had happened. Unable to tears his eyes away from the pool of red seeping out from under her legs, he swallowed hard, staring at his bloodstained hand. ‘You… you were…’   

Pregnant...

She shut her eyes, hissing slightly as the word hung in their air between them. ‘He didn’t know Liam. He… I-He died without knowing I…’ She wouldn’t finish without breaking into tears again and lost for words, Liam gathered her up into his arms as she wept, unable to stop big tears rolling down his face, knowing he only knew a sliver of what she was going through right now. 

On the day of the funeral too… 

His heart went out to her and the unfathomable suffering she was experiencing. He felt so infinitely useless, unable to provide any other comfort so he clutched her closer, as if the tighter he held on the more likely her pain would go away. He was painfully aware that there was nothing he could say or do that would ever be able to rectify what had just happened. So he held her on that bathroom, he held her close as she cried into his new black suit, blood staining both their outfits. Liam’s own emotions had worked up a storm inside him but he pushed them down for her sake. He couldn’t lose it too. Suddenly Elizabeth cried out as if in pain as more fluid began to leak onto the floor and when her skin touched his, the contact burned his skin. She felt scorching hot to the touch despite the shivers that wracked her body.

Liam cursed himself for not realising this sooner and shouted for a maid. 

‘Prepare the motorcade and have them ready to transport the duchess and I to the hospital. And bring Lady Hana here immediately,’ he commanded the girl who’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates at the sight. ‘Breathe a word of this to anyone and I will personally ensure that you live to regret it.’   

She bobbed once in compliance and rushed off. 

 ‘C’mon Elizabeth,’ he encouraged softly after god knows how much time had passed. ‘It’s going to be okay.. Its going to be okay.’

He had no way of knowing if it was going to be okay, he had no idea what would happen next but he couldn’t let her know the panic he was feeling. He shifted her hot body in his arms, worry seeping deeper into him. How long had she been like this? Surely it couldn’t have been good to lie on the bathroom floor - as clean as it may be - in this state. Liam had little medical knowledge but what if she’d caught some bacterial infection or something? She could be at risk for something serious and he had no idea. 

 ‘Someone get the doctor immediately,’ he bellowed, shifting Elizabeth again, her temperature soaring as she attempted to curl closer into herself. 

Through the panic he was feeling, Liam remembered vaguely that his mother had put him under a cold shower when he’d had a fever as a child to lower his temperature. He had no way of knowing if that was medically but he had to try. 

‘C’mon Elizabeth,’ he repeated. ‘I’m going to put you into the shower. We- we… I don’t know what I’m doing..’ Liam ran a bloodstained hand through his hair, not caring for his personal wellbeing, attention solely focused on getting her up and into the shower. 'Let’s get you cleaned up.’ 

Elizabeth made a noise of reluctance but eventually allowed him to lift her to her feet. He had just managed to coax her into the shower when Hana’s voice called out for him. 

 ‘In here,’ he yelled back from under the cold shower where he was holding Elizabeth, still fully clothed as he tried to keep his eyes off the blood that was draining off both of them. Hana appeared in the doorway instantaneously, a gasp escaping her at the sight before her eyes, scanning the mess in the bathroom. For a moment her lower lip wavered and Liam was doubting his decision to have her here before she straightened her posture and stepped into the bathroom, avoiding the puddles of blood and fluid on the ground. 

 ‘Here let me,’ she reached for Elizabeth and Liam was only too glad to ease her into her arms. ‘The doctor is on the way.' 

As Liam was exiting the bathroom to let Hana rinse her, his eyes caught sight of the toilet, where something bobbed in the bloodstained water.. 

This time Liam was unable to control his initial reaction, his stomach turning itself inside out, heaving its contents into the nearest rubbish bin. Swiping the back of his hand over his mouth, he stumbled out of the bathroom, surely leaving red footprints in his wake but in his stupor, he was barely able to think straight. 

 ‘Your Majesty-‘ Bastein and Mara were at the suite door, wide eyed at the blood on his clothes but he waved them off. ‘Where’s that fucking doctor?’ 

‘Right here Your Majesty, apologies for the delay,’ a woman stepped up and Liam couldn’t speak, merely pointing to Elizabeth's room.

‘Your Majesty you don’t look-' 

‘Madeleine!’ Liam bellowed, ignoring all attempts at his own wellbeing. 

The blonde woman materialised at the threshold with her ever enigmatic expression. ‘You called Your Majesty?’ 

‘Postpone the funeral. And clear my schedule for today and tomorrow.’ 

‘What am I your personal assistant?’ She scoffed, clearly unified by his stormy expression. 

‘I am your king,’ Liam growled, authority clear in his tone. ‘You will do as I say.’ The blonde woman nodded once and disappeared and he glanced at the crowd of servants gathered there watching the scene. 

'Breathe a word of this to anyone and I’ll make sure you all pay for it,’ he snarled, registering the fear in their eyes before they scattered. 

 He sank down into a nearby chaise, his head dropping into his hands and Liam wept...

He cried for Elizabeth, for the inexplicable pain she was feeling at losing not one but two people in such a short space of time. He wept for the child who would have been, who would have grown up to be a tiny copy of their father, a strength to their mother and comfort that the man she loved was still with her in some way. He wept for Drake who would never get to have the family he wanted and surely deserved, a life cut short by the sharp and unforgiving knife of fate. Feeling a synonymous sense of shame, Liam wept for himself too, for what he was expected to do for his country at the price of one woman’s happiness and stability.

He did not know how long he sat there, eyes staring blankly at the tiles, brushing off any and all attempt to comfort him until the servants bustled by barely taking notice of their king sitting so still he could have been a statue. His father’s word echoed back to him, about the need for stability and harmony through his marriage to Elizabeth but Liam knew now that he would never be able to ask that of her. The opinions of the people be damned, he thought angrily. They could change and they would. He’d marry someone else Olivia or even Kiara maybe, both who would be fine queens and — 

The door creaked open to reveal the doctor stepping out and Liam immediately stood up, giving her an expectant look. Her expression turned apologetic. 

 ‘As you are aware, Your Majesty Duchess Elizabeth has had a miscarriage. It is difficult to say how far along she was but my best guess would be less than three months.’ 

The words shook him to his core.. Three months ago would have been around the time of the homecoming ball, after he had broken off his engagement to Madeleine, he reasoned. Liam felt his stomach drop, he had no idea Elizabeth and Drake were so involved together at that point, in fact he had no idea of it until he’d seen her at his bedside before what he had suspected finally clicked into place. His stomach twisted into a tighter knot at the next words. 

‘You found her when she was mid way through passing the pregnancy tissue. Fever, chills, severe abdominal and uterine pain are common with a miscarriage like this one. It is hard to say whether she has contracted some kind of infection from sitting unprotected on the floor but I have briefed Lady Hana on the symptoms and she knows to contact a doctor should Her Grace be experiencing this.’ 

 ‘How is she now?’ Liam’s tongue felt thick in his mouth as he fought to swallow the doctor’s words. 

 ‘The rest of the pregnancy tissue should pass out in the next few days and there’s nothing I can do to make that process any faster. It is a matter of time. But for now she needs to rest Your Majesty. I would recommend bedrest for the next day or two and no strenuous activity while her body recovers. I have given her painkillers to help with the pain. She will require an ultrasound to ensure all the pregnancy tissue has been expelled and another checkup in about 4-6 weeks time.' 

He hadn’t realised how tense he was until the doctor placed a hand on his arm in comfort. 

‘It’s a tough thing to recover from but Her Grace has a good support system. She just needs people to be with her to remind her that she doesn’t have to do this alone. None of you do.’ 

 Liam nodded, hearing the doctor’s message. ‘I understand. Can I-can I see her?’ ‘Her Grace is resting but a few minutes wouldn’t hurt,’ the doctor — Dr Jaya Da Silva as her name badge read — smiled sadly, pausing for a moment before speaking again. ‘Go be with her. In times like these, you need hope. You need to give her that hope Your Majesty because in the end that’s all we have. Everyone knows Duchess Elizabeth has a way of pulling through in the end, you just need to remind her of it.’

He nodded once and turned to the room door where two maids with cleaning supplies were exiting. Unbidden his eyes flew to a small black plastic bag one of them was holding and his stomach turned violently, threatening to hurl at the sight of it. 

That was… 

Liam squeezed his eyes shut, wiping his sweaty palms on the front of his blazer — a gesture his stepmother would have surely chastised him for — and took a deep breath, willing the calmness people associated his kingly persona to return. Elizabeth lay on the bed, curled into ball, dark hair tangled across the pillows as Hana tucked her in. She barely acknowledged his presence, her eyes glassy and vacant, fixated loosely on the wall. He winced at the sight, taking in her bloodshot gaze and how her hands hadn’t quite stopped shaking.

‘Elizabeth…’ Her name slipped from his lips, as if it was never really meant for him. His mouth opened and shut a few times, at a loss for words. "How are you feeling?” wouldn’t really cut it in this situation; he could not even begin to understand the pain she must be in. 

 ‘You postponed the funeral,’ she said finally, almost in an accusatory tone. ‘Why?’ 

Liam sighed, running a hand through his hair. ‘Elizabeth... you can’t. You’re in no condition to..’ 

‘I can,’ she retorted, struggling to push herself up on one hand. ‘I can and I will.’ 

‘The doctor ordered bedrest, she said it would take a while for-‘ 

‘I don’t care! Stop. Stop it okay!’ She was in a sitting position now, glaring at him with a venom that he’d never seen before. ‘It needs to go on, I have to… I have to…  I want to see him laid to rest.. I wanna see him one more time before-‘ Her voice gave way to sobs. 

 ‘Elizabeth…You’ve already gone through so much today. You need to rest.’ 

‘I need to see him Liam,’ she was crying again, loud, messy sobs as huge globs of snot flowed out of her nose but she swiped it away with her hand before holding up a menacing finger towards him. ‘Fuck you and your entitled ass for not letting me.’ 

He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off. ‘Tell them the funeral is back on Liam. Tell them or I’ll never speak to you again.’ 

'If it comes to that, so be it.’ 

She yelled at him, screamed, cursed him with every profanity under the sun, swearing on all she knew to be sacred that she would never forgive him but Liam stood his ground. He dragged his blue eyes to her dark ones, knowing she was in extreme pain and it was just the grief talking. She was already unstable, if he did as she said… who knew if she would ever recover. 

‘Hate me all you want,’ Liam continued in a voice he did not recognise as his own. ‘I’m only doing this for you own good.’ 

‘You fucking bastard!’ she yelled back as she struggled to get to her feet, before giving way to a sharp cry of pain, her hand flying to her abdomen. Hana immediately rushed to her side but Elizabeth swatted her away. ‘Get off me, let me go Hana!' 

The other woman turned her pleading eyes on Liam, begging him to relent so that Elizabeth would be calmed but he stood his ground.

‘So help me Elizabeth if I need to lock you in this room I will.’ 

What was happening to him? He sounded just like his father, placing this innocent woman in even more pain. But Liam had no choice, he had to do what he felt was right. 

 ‘I’m doing this for your own good,’ he replied forlornly as she collapsed back on the bed in exhaustion. Shutting the door behind him, Liam leaned against the wood, closing his eyes as tears rolled down his cheeks, hating himself for what he just did. The sound of her protests filtered to him as the echo of his father’s words sprang to his mind, both battling on his conscience. Elizabeth was already in so much pain. 

How could he burden her with the crown too?

[finalities]

⏤ 42 DAYS MISSING.

The therapist’s office, located in the recesses of his remote Magnolia Gardens home, was a soundless room that smelled faintly of incense and men’s cologne. Dimly lit by decorative wall sconces, it offered an intimate, safe environment for the clients that passed through its four walls. Monika willed herself to remain calm as she settled on the couch and glanced about the space, taking in the tasteful decorations and framed diplomas. Dr. Linden had come highly recommended from her husband’s colleagues, who had utilized his services during moments of turbulence in their marriages. But it wasn’t turbulence that had brought Monika and Sebastian to contact the therapist ⏤ it was the absence of it, the quiet complacence of days spent almost entirely apart, their only interactions occurring in passing. The only explosive event in recent weeks was Sebastian’s hard-hearted request that she stay away from Abel Thomas as the investigation into his wife’s disappearance continued, each passing day leeching any remaining hope that the woman would be found alive and in good health. Monika had taken it to heart; the Thomases were friends of theirs, and she knew Abel needed as much support as he could get during this nightmare. 

"Would you like to get started?” 

Drawing a breath, Monika’s gaze shifted to Dr. Linden, who had been sitting opposite her for the last ten minutes as they waited on the arrival of her husband. “It’s couple’s therapy,” she said. “Shouldn’t we wait? We’ll pay for the time, that’s not a concern.” Such a privilege, to be able to pay for wasting someone’s time. It had taken her some time to wrap her head around the little luxuries she took for granted. Her salary as a primary teacher at the town’s prominent private school was nearly double what she had been making in the public school system, and combined with her husband’s take-home as a surgeon, they were more than comfortable. “I’m sure he’ll be here shortly.”

“I understand, Mrs. Ward,” Dr. Linden said evenly, “but it might be nice for us to acquaint ourselves in the meantime.” Upon her confirming nod, he continued: “Why don’t you tell me about yourself ⏤ your interests, hobbies. Sebastian mentioned on the phone that you’re a teacher at Junipero Academy. That must be a rewarding job, working with children.”

A smile surfaced with ease on Monika’s features as she thought about her students and the accepting and nurturing climate she’d worked so hard to create in her classroom, where every voice was heard and every opportunity for learning was embraced. She liked to blend her educational training and the holistic teachings of her mothers in her approach to cultivate their curious minds, though the children had presented her with no shortage of challenges. “It is. I’m very fortunate to be able to be able to do what I love most: working with children, watching them grow.” She spoke fondly of her job whenever asked. The difficult days were far outnumbered by the good ones. “Teaching takes up most of my time through the school year, but I make time for the things and people I love. Sebastian and I try to host a dinner party every month, or attend one, though sometimes everyone’s schedules don’t really align. I think that’s where I’m happiest: in the kitchen, preparing food; setting the table for our guests; sharing laughs over drinks, surrounded by our friends. That and the beach.” There was as sadness in her voice as she spoke of what made her happy. In the weeks following Ava’s disappearance, it had been difficult to enjoy the gatherings they still attempted. Everything was cloaked in uncertainty, although no one seemed ready to admit that their lives had been changed in a sudden way. “Since the school year ended, I’ve been spending my time around the house ⏤ cooking, gardening, painting. Little projects. Sebastian’s been working a lot of overtime over the last few weeks. We have dinner together when we can, but it’s been hit or miss. Everything feels...different, and not just between us.”

“It sounds to me like your life has experienced a disruption,” Dr. Linden noted. That was one way of putting it. He made no speculation as to what it could be, but it was difficult not to imagine that he had the very news that upended the community in mind. “And, perhaps in the process, your marriage has, too.”

Monika nodded solemnly. “Ava Thomas,” she said softly, her voice thin. “It’s unfathomable that someone could vanish like that. Someone so... put together, connected, charitable. Loved. Someone we know. Sebastian and I are close with the Thomases; he works with Ava, and I⏤” I’m having an affair with her husband. “I’m very fond of her. It’s been difficult.” In truth, the woman’s disappearance had silently driven a wedge between Monika and her husband. She knew Sebastian handled his emotions in a manner different from her processes; while she was openly emotional and prone to crying at the slightest provocation, he was stone-faced, locking it up inside. Over the course of their courtship and marriage, she’d tried to get him to open up, to speak freely about the traumas he faced at work. As a surgeon, he experienced his share of losses as patients died on the operating table or in the days leading up to or following the surgeries he conducted. But he still struggled to communicate his grief with her, his stubborn upbringing difficult to deprogram.

Dr. Linden’s expression was sympathetic. “It’s been a devastating time for the community. And it’s certainly distressing because of your connection with the family. Have you talked to Sebastian about it and how it makes you feel?”

What did it make her feel? Sadness, certainly ⏤ a familiar hum of sorrow that she carried with her, activated every time she looked into Abel’s eyes, laid her eyes on his motherless child. But there was a hint of something else within her. Something far less palatable. A twinge of relief. That she could carry on, as she had. It made her stomach twist with nausea. Pursing her lips, she tried to focus on the therapist’s question. “Every time I try to talk to him about it, he just shuts down,” she replied, the taste of bile heavy on her tongue. “Last week, I used the past tense when referring to her. I’ve never seen him look at me the way that he did. It was a mistake, but he was so wounded by it.” It was incredible, how much her own husband’s response to the disappearance differed compared to Ava’s husband. Abel had been torn up about it, that went without saying, but she knew he’d never look at her the way Sebastian had for making a simple mistake, one without any ill intent. “He’s under a lot of stress, and he’s not sleeping very well,” she said, once again creating an excuse for him, “so that’s probably why he had such a reaction to it.”

“This sort of event does tend to have a profound effect on the people close to the missing individual. In this case, your husband’s grief and frustration over his missing colleague and friend,” Dr. Linden explained, adjusting his glasses. Despite his analytical approach, she appreciated that he wasn’t the posturing type of therapist she’d seen on television, who spent more time focusing on articulating psychological theory than trying to relate to their patients. “Would you say it’s the primary stressor at the moment?”

“For the most part, yes.” There was another issue she hadn’t dared to bring up to her husband in recent weeks in light of the situation with Ava, but if Dr. Linden was to get a full picture of the work to be done, he needed to be aware. “Sebastian and I decided last summer that we were ready to start trying for a baby, but it’s been tough.” The initial thrill of starting a family had been tempered after months of trying, to no avail. Sex became a chore. Eventually, it stopped altogether. Counting off the months in her mind, she estimated it had been four months since they’d last had sex. She remembered the night clearly ⏤ not because the act itself had been memorable, but because of what had happened after. The hollow feeling in her chest as she’d stared down at the condom wrapper in the bathroom wastebasket and cried, assuming the worst: that her husband had given up. 

“Another very stressful thing,” Dr. Linden nodded, his pen moving across paper in a fluid fashion.

“I feel like it’s been moved to the back-burner. It used to be something we talked about regularly, something we were excited about. But now... I don’t know if he wants to keep trying.” In truth, Monika hadn’t thought about that night for a while, or their plans for a family ⏤ whether they’d been put on ice for the time being or if all hope of having children with the man she loved was truly gone. As the days wore on, as new complications were ushered in, it had been a matter easily fallen to the wayside. She hadn’t given much though to their sex life, either; while it had stalled, she had fallen into a breathless affair with Abel. “I’m not sure how to talk to him about it, either."

The therapist’s smile was warm; a small comfort. “There are all things we can discuss in our sessions.”

A knock sounded before the door opened to admit Sebastian, thirty minutes past the scheduled start time of their therapy session. Monika had to believe that Dr. Linden would be noting the delay as another piece of evidence that there was something wrong here. After all, her husband had known about the appointment well in advance, and at this hour, there was no traffic lining the streets; no, Sebastian had been late because, once more, he had put the needs of himself before his own wife. A day of golfing had turned into a steak dinner at the country club restaurant, likely followed by bourbon and cigars in the lounge. A sheepish smile surfaced on her face as she watched him shake the therapist’s hand first before approaching the couch where she sat, pausing only to press a kiss to her forehead in a show of affection that couldn’t erase the embarrassment she felt. Or the surprise that washed over her when he reached for her hand as he issued his excuses to the room. She could smell his afternoon on him, mingling with the sharp mint chaser he’d taken to disguise his breath.

For the most part, she was thankful he’d finally made it so that they could begin the necessary work to get them back on track. As Dr. Linden delivered a brief summary of what to expect for the session, Monika’s gaze lifted to her husband. She surveyed his face for a moment, half-listening as she looked over the slant of his nose and the stubble that lined his jaw before she glanced down at their hands. A stab of guilt came, swift and razor-sharp, as she stared down at her wedding ring peeking out between their entwined fingers. What did it say about her that the glint of her diamond ring in the low light made her think about Abel? The conversation in the room moved along without her, the men making brief small talk, leaving her with her jumbled thoughts. Distracted, she worried her bottom lip between her teeth as her mind drifted away. 

Monika thought of the multitude of secrets she held, locked away in her heart. Some were old and inconsequential, like the time she had stolen a sip of wine at Christmas dinner when she was fourteen and instantly regretted it, her young tastebuds underdeveloped to the taste. But others were fresh and a risk to the very fabric of her life, like the knowledge that she’d gone against her husband’s wishes earlier that day to see Abel again, and the visit had culminated in slow, passionate lovemaking. She could recall details with ease ⏤ the overwhelming desire that coiled in her belly as she unfastened his belt, the pressure of his fingertips between her knuckles as he held her hand, the way his breath hitched with each thrust, the trickle of sweat down her spine, the rough brush of his beard against the inside of her thighs. Their suppressed moans, her gentle kisses pressed to his stomach, the taste of his skin.

The fact that shame had kept them from desecrating his marital bed.

“⏤ and you, Monika?”

The question ripped her from her obscene reverie. Shifting in her spot on the couch, she crossed her legs, trying desperately to ignore the growing wetness that soaked through the same panties Abel had removed that afternoon. “I’m sorry,” she said, her pulse thrumming in her ears, “could you repeat the question?”

[seriouslyhooked]

Under Your Persuasion

It's the coldest Valentine's Day on record, and Killian and Emma decide the best way to spend the holiday is a quiet dinner, some mood music, and a little Netflix...and chill. One shot story about a casual Valentine's for Captain Swan filled with fluff and smut. Rated M. Also on FF Here.

A/N: A year ago today I wrote this story, and it still remains one of my favorite oneshots I have had the pleasure of writing. Hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading.

“I had it all planned, Swan. I gathered intel from every corner of this town and even that blasted internet with Belle’s help.” Killian waved his hook around in frustration as he gave her his thoughts on the new obstacle separating them from their night out, one that the both of them had been waiting on for quite a while.

Emma smiled despite herself as Killian shuddered, as if the internet was still this evil, undesirable thing. But he was right, Valentine’s Day was something people usually planned for and no one could have planned for this cold front. -5 degrees Fahrenheit, feels like -30? It was insanity and there was no way either of them were leaving this house now that the bug wouldn’t start and everywhere in town was closed to fend off the frigid temps.

“We can always do Valentine’s Day tomorrow if you want.” His eyes flashed an accusatory glance.

“And admit defeat?” Emma laughed at his resistance, moving towards him and running a hand over his chest.

“Or we could just stay in. Make dinner, watch a little Netflix and then…” Killian seemed to like the unspoken promise of what might come after the Netflix especially if his hand and hook coming around her waist were any indication.

“Perhaps this blasted cold isn’t such a bad thing after all.” Killian bent down to her lips for a kiss and Emma felt herself warming despite the chill that clung around the whole of the town. Before long the kiss deepened, and if Emma were honest with herself, both of them were definitely to blame. Finally, however, she pulled back, intent on creating a night to remember even if it was just a night in at the house.

“Later,” she promised before taking a step back.

Killian looked like he may argue that point a bit but ultimately nodded and moved past her to the kitchen, one of Emma’s favorite parts of their home. Once there, Killian took the lead on making dinner and Emma knew better than to step on his toes. He was more than able to make them a lovely meal, hell he’d done it enough over the past few months, and Emma ran the risk of upending that anytime she got too close.

Instead, Emma focused on the table and the wine and putting on a bit of music for the two of them to listen to. She flipped through the stations until landing on the classics and through the speakers they were crooned to by the likes of Sinatra and Crosby and Martin. Eventually one of Emma’s favorite songs came on, “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.” It was an old standard, one that had been sung time and again by all sorts of artists, but tonight, Pandora was blessing her with the Ella Fitzgerald rendition, which was undoubtedly Emma’s favorite. She swayed a bit to the opening instrumentals and felt herself singing along to the words quietly.

I’ve got you under my skin I’ve got you deep in the heart of me So deep in my heart that you’re really a part of me I’ve got you under my skin I’d tried not to give in

Emma felt Killian approach her and enjoyed the feel of his arms coming around to hold her hips and pull them back against him. His mouth bent down to kiss her cheek and Emma closed her eyes for a moment, luxuriating in the feel of him with her. Tonight they were safe and together, and that was a truly magical thing.

“The food?” Emma asked, not actually giving a damn even as she inquired given how good it felt to be here with Killian.

“It will keep. Dance with me, love.” So she did, turning around and stepping into his arms as they moved about the space between the dining room and the living room with the ease and grace of a couple in love.

I said to myself this affair never will go so well But why should I try to resist when, baby I know you so well I’ve got you under my skin

“I do, you know,” Killian said in response to the song and Emma rolled her eyes at his comment to stave off too sappy a moment.

“That line work on all the girls?” Killian scoffed in reply.

“What maidens have I known in this realm other than you? Besides, you know well enough that nothing else has ever compared to this,” Killian responded and Emma sighed dramatically, even though his words sent a happy thrill shooting through her.

“Do you make a habit of talking while dancing?” Emma countered and he threw her one of those goofy smiles, pulling her body slightly closer.

“Only with you, Swan.”

I’d sacrifice anything come what might For the sake of having you near

Two more lines were all it took for Killian to feel commentary was necessary again, and though Emma feigned continued annoyance, she loved the thoughts he felt were necessary to share with her.

“Well that part is true enough. You beat out everything else I’ve ever known, Swan,” Killian professed.

“Everything?” Emma asked jokingly.

“Aye, love, anything and everything.”

“Even rum?” Emma teased and he laughed, mumbling about how she was too bloody smart, but that yes she would always trump his libation of choice.

In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night And repeats, repeats in my ear Don’t you know, little fool, you never can win? Use your mentality, wake up to reality

This time it was Emma’s turn to make a confession of her own that she thought Killian would like to hear. It was years in the making, and it had taken a long and winding road for Emma to feel safe and ready enough to say things like this.

“That little voice in the back of my head went quiet a long time ago,” Emma whispered and Killian’s hook ran across her back in a soothing motion, a sign of silent affirmation that he appreciated her words.

“Is that right, love?” Emma nodded.

“Mhmm. Because this is the new normal. Having you, loving you, is the most natural thing to me now.”

Killian’s responding grin was warm and filled with love and hope, and it made those same butterflies that were never far away when he was here surge to the surface. True love, Emma had found, didn’t mean that they never fought or argued or faced tough trials. It just meant that Emma was certain of Killian, and that her heart was devoted to his fully. There was no room for old fears and hang-ups. Not anymore.

But each time that I do just the thought of you Makes me stop before I begin Cause I’ve got you under my skin

Emma laid her head against his shoulder, loving the safety she felt in Killian’s arms and knowing that the magic between them was true and that their love merited more than celebration once a year. Valentine’s Day was an excuse to make more time for each other but it was hardly the only time they felt this connection. Her romantic pirate captain made sure of that, and over time Emma had evolved to seek out such special moments as well. The thought of that transformation and the man that made it possible made Emma really joyous.

I would sacrifice anything come what might For the sake of havin you near In spire of the warning voice that comes in the night And repeats, how it yells in my ear Don’t you know, little fool, you never can win? Why not use your mentality, step up, wake up to reality? But each time I do just the thought of you Makes me stop just before I begin Cause I’ve got you under my skin Yes, I’ve got you under my skin

As the song wound down, Emma looked back up at Killian who stepped back and raised one of her hands to his lips. With just a look that told her of his love, he walked back into the kitchen to finish up their meal and Emma moved to the TV to select a movie.

She really didn’t want one of the generic February 14th flicks. No Valentine’s Day or He’s Just Not That Into You for them. And much as Emma might like to watch one of the ridiculously over the top action movies Henry had laying around, she always felt bad for Killian who needed to ask question after question about logistics to follow. Inspiration struck however, when she thought back to their dancing together.

The joke about his talking when he danced reminded her of Pride and Prejudice which the two of them had already seen roughly five times together, but Jane Austen had five other published books all made into movies. In the end, Emma decided on Persuasion, one of her favorites that she felt never got enough credit. It also didn’t hurt that it followed the daughter of the aristocracy and a naval Captain. It seemed particularly fitting actually. She brought it up to the Netflix queue and let it sit while they enjoyed their candle lit dinner in the dining room. Some time later they were ready for the movie and Emma gave Killian the basic rundown of the story.

“Anne Elliot is a woman of a certain age who let the love of her life get away because she let herself be persuaded that they weren’t a good match.” Killian looked disapproving.

“She let herself be persuaded to leave him behind?” Killian asked and Emma nodded.

“Yeah, but they get a second chance and-,” Killian was stuck on the first part still and interrupted.

“You mean to tell me she found love, a love she sees as true, and let someone persuade her to forsake it?” Emma nodded again. He growled low. “That is unfathomable. There’s no way you could relate to that, is there Swan?”

Emma felt her heartbeat quicken at the gruff tone of his words and the trail of sensation his fingers left as they moved about her body. She shook her head, seeking to calm the distress that was causing his heightened response.

“No I know myself enough to make my own decisions.” Killian smiled at her words and pulled her closer to him.

“Aye love, and you’ve decided on me, largely thanks to my persuasions.”

With those words said, Killian’s mouth closed in on Emma’s in a scorching kiss that Emma gave herself over to freely. She moved her hands up behind his neck, felt her fingers intertwine with the soft hair on his nape as she arched closer to him for more contact. His hand made its way under the soft cotton of her red dress that she’d donned for the evening at home and she felt his hand move up to her heat. He growled when he realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“You’ve been bare for me all this time, Swan?”

“I know how much you like that,” Emma quipped breathily.

His hand trailed further to where she wanted him, his thumb circling her clit and causing her breath to catch. Emma let out a sigh with his name on her lips urging him on. Soon two of his other fingers filled her, driving her crazy, pushing her to the brink so quickly. She came down from the climax and felt Killian lifting her from the couch to their bedroom. Once there, he set her down and helped her remove the dress as she worked to remove the belt from his dark jeans along with the shirt and vest he wore. It was a process, but once over the reward was great. Like always, the sight of him naked before her made Emma’s blood hum with attraction and lust. It made her need to touch him spike and her want for his touch to skyrocket.

“You’re even easier to read when in the throws of passion, my love,” Killian whispered, his eyes never leaving her and never failing to display the enormity of his feelings for her.

Emma sighed into his touch as he led her back to their bed. He took his time kissing down her neck, across her breasts, focusing on her nipples with the nips and sucks that Emma needed. When she felt near drowned in desire, he moved further down the flat planes of her stomach, to her hip, down her thigh, opening her legs to expose her for his taking. When his mouth was on her center she couldn’t help but buck against him, accepting the mindless pleasure that he so willingly bestowed, breathless and needy until he set her flying again.

In those gloriously bright moments she felt so free, so above all of the world’s evils. Only Killian could give her this, and only Killian could bring that feeling to her everyday with just a look. She loved him so much that there weren’t words. As she came back down from the crushing high, she pulled him back up to look in her eyes.

“I could never be persuaded to leave you. Never again. You’re it for me now and always,” Emma promised.

Killian smiled, not the cocky grin of a self-assured pirate, but the boyish one of a man who was truly happy. She kissed him, tasting herself on his lips and she used the distraction to switch their positions so she was on top. Emma worked his now achingly hard cock with her hands, loving the way she controlled his pleasure just as much as he controlled hers. When he was close, she lined herself up with him and rode him, bringing them both that sense of connection they thrived off of. Their rhythm was hard and fast, both of them calling each other’s names as they chased that special brand of ecstasy that this kind of love provided. When they’d reached it, the two of them lay for a moment together in the comfort of each other’s arms. Finally Emma spoke again.

“It’s still a good movie though.”

Killian chuckled low at her claims about the movie he had long since forgotten and pulled her from bed, throwing one of his shirts over her and bringing her back to the couch. He pressed play on the remote and after a while agreed that she was right. The story was intriguing, a look at how sometimes love couldn’t bear the brunt of outside influence. Some people weren’t lucky enough to have the faith that Emma and Killian did. In the end love still won out for Anne and her Captain, but neither Killian or Emma envied it. What they had was perfect for them, crazy fairytale antics or not, and as the credits rolled, Emma showed Killian just how much she appreciated their personal story all over again.

Years later, when Emma looked back at the memory of that day, it may not have been the grandest Valentine’s in the course of all the one’s they shared, but it was one of her favorites. It was a moment of peace and love between just the two of them, a time when the world was both incredibly small and filled with possibility. And after all, how many people really got that on Valentine’s Day?

Post-Note: Getting to feature of my favorite songs and my favorite movies in one onsehot was a huge excitement factor for me when I first published this story, and I can safely say I loved coming back and reading this once again. Anyway, I hope you all have had a lovely Valentines and that at the very least everyone has maxed out on their candy quota for a while. Thank you so much for reading, and have a great rest of your day!

[epchapman89]

A Coffee Guide For The End Of The World

End times. The fall of man. Dark fates foretold in ancient scriptures, intuited by man, writ large across our modern skies. Now more than ever it’s important that we prepare for the coming end of days. If you don’t have your ducks in a row by now for the basics of disaster preparedness then do yourself a favor—turn off your computer box, stop reading this article, and get yourself to the nearest general store for basic supplies.

Are you ready? Read on.

If you’re anything like me, you’re already well-equipped to deal with the coming onslaught of emergencies headed our way, both man-made and God-sent. But with the basics out of the way, now is the time to wonder: do you have enough coffee and coffee-making essentials stored properly to survive in your basement, first floor, second floor, garage, office, vehicles, and emergency bug-out bag? If the answer is no, this is your listicle.

I have extensively researched this topic over countless sleepless nights, and created some brand new tips on how to keep up your supply of delicious coffee in the dark days before us. Coffee will serve so many purposes after the fall of man. Whether to remind you of the comforts of the before-times, serve as goods for bartering, or merely to put some pep in your step while you’re out patrolling the perimeter, you’ll be glad you took our advice.

A proper prepper stores the perfect water.

Your hot water tank will be a go-to for emergency water when the wells run dry and the aquifers are tainted, but a 55-gallon drum of emergency water is an essential now, before civilization comes crashing down around us. Since you’ll be using at least some of that water for coffee, ensure that your 55-gallon barrel lifesaver is treated for both safety as well as maximum brew potential.

Maxwell Colonna-Dashwood and Dr. Christopher H. Hendon have written Water For Coffee, a Sprudgie Award-nominated book which we recommend adding to your basement analog library (because when the grid freezes up and the cloud goes *poof*, your Kindle will be kindling).

We asked Mr. Colonna-Dashwood, a UK Barista champion and World Barista Championship finalist, for his tips on storing water for coffee after the apocalypse. He offered some recommendations: “A food-grade water container, precise scales to .2 of a gram, our book, [and] a calculator to figure out the sums and a selection of mineral slats to add.”

“The water should be distilled to start with,” Colonna-Dashwood added. That means if you’re collecting rain water, you’ll need to plan ahead. The product offered by Third Wave Water may do well for this very need; after the sinful media elites who carelessly maligned them get their just desserts, TWW products will continue serving their purpose from deep within your bunker fortress. Consider stockpiling now.

An AeroPress for every disaster kit.

In terms of size, functionality, durability, and ease-of-use, the AeroPress should be thought of as the de facto Proper Prepper brew method du jour. An AeroPress can fit in your bug-out bag, it’s lightweight, and can be used to store all kinds of things when not being used for coffee brewing—gold nuggets, human teeth, or whatever passes for currency in our darkest timeline. Most importantly, in my opinion, is the AeroPress’s ability to brew at lower temperatures. Boiling water will be a luxury, or in the worst cases, a necessity for killing toxins that have leeched into your water supply from the ruined world above. Boiling takes a good deal of fuel, and any steps one can take to lessen the impact on your limited fuel supply should be considered. With an AeroPress, you’ll only need to heat your water to 180 for a decent cup of prepper brew. That’s good!

But perhaps the best part is that the AeroPress is a relatively inexpensive brew method to stockpile. Hoard some now while paper money still has value, and spend the money you’ll save on preparing a full-size aquaculture system for your tilapia farm—a fabulous source of renewable protein and fertilizer.

Consider your coffee options.

Sure, keeping a healthy supply of whole bean stored in your basement freezer is a fine idea—just tape over that one-way valve to avoid freezer burn. When the grid inevitably collapses, transfer the goods to your deep-dug root cellar. When the time is right, you could use a quality hand grinder to grind your stash, but that’s only if you have the strength of heart, spirit, and body…not to mention the appendages necessary for such a task. No, friend, it just wouldn’t be prudent to put all your eggs in the whole bean basket.

But what about storing green and roasting at home? A vocal faction of preppers believe that storing green coffee, then pan-roasting it, is best for maximum storability and use as a bartering currency. My belief is that one should prep for practicality and convenience without sacrificing too much quality, so I believe that while green coffee is arguably the best way to ensure the freshest possible prepper product, the amount of time and energy required to roast and grind the coffee is impractical and inconvenient. A home roaster might prep this way, but the Average Joe should heed my recommendation: pre-ground coffee, nitrogen flushed, and stored the best way possible will yield the finest results.

The market for this kind of coffee product is moving quickly. In the past, we’ve written on Sprudge about Perfect Coffee, which was acquired last year by Blue Bottle. I support and recommend getting yourself a month’s worth of pre-ground Perfect Coffee for the end of days. Store the pre-ground bags in a ziploc bag with hand-warmers, and vacuum that sucker. When the sun goes dark and you’ve got little hope left, you’ll be glad you don’t have to hand-grind a freezer pleaser, and instead can use the best pre-ground this lonely, dying planet has to offer.

The launch of Sudden Coffee could also upend and virally disrupt our proper prepping coffee solutions. As that project grows it will be worthy of consideration for survivalists, mountain men, suburban doomsday cultists, and unfathomably wealthy tech types ready to turn San Francisco into their own personal post-apocalyptic Thunderdome when shit goes down. We’re talking Google Bus barricades and ray guns, people. It could happen tomorrow.

A proper boil.

While the Kelly Kettle is by far the most resource-economic method of boiling water, if you use your PowerPot V Thermoelectric Cook Pot to boil your water, you can power up your necessary brewing electronics. That way, you can attach your Acaia Lunar scale up to its USB and charge it up while you wait for the water to get just hot enough to brew a World Championship winning AeroPress. When that’s charged, you’ll be able to charge your iOS or Android device up so you can chart your brew profile as you go. If the internet is down, which it probably will be, use your HAM radio to announce your current and best profiles. (HAM will be like Twitter, Slack, and Snapchat all rolled into one after the world ends.)

In Conclusion

In the prepper economy, coffee is good as gold. But all the coffee in the world won’t mean a thing if you aren’t prepared in advance. Make the necessary purchases now, while the internet is still up and functioning, and be sure to invest in a renewable and refined source of water collection above all else. Now is the time to prepare for the end. Because after all, you never know when today is merely the day before…

Zachary Carlsen is a co-founder and editor at Sprudge.com. Read more Zachary Carlsen on Sprudge.

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