#bb 20

[photo-roulette-wheel]

Let the HOH Dictatorship begin

[mokadevs]

day 2: please be gentle

[wanderingsquirrelgirl]

hahahahahahaha

[rotpeaches]

FIG!!!!! 🗣🎸🔥🤘🤘

[hanase]

[sappho-rose]

ryusae <3

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Total $hit$how: The Wager

in which Jericho pursues secrets

cw: referenced threats, fear of/talk of death, violence, beating, intimate whumper, heavily implied/fade to black noncon

previous // Masterlist //

×~×~×

There were tools to be gathered before they could act. Jericho was glad for that; it gave him something to focus on until night fell, something besides the photos, besides Ari in bed and Marla beside her and some stranger outside the house, watching them. His chest tightened, throat constricting like someone was wrapping their hands around it, and he tried to divert his thoughts.

Tonight. He'd figure out how to fix this tonight. He remembered where the computer was, and he could probably figure out how to crack it quickly. It was old, from the era of minesweeper and desktop solitaire. Vic didn't seem interested in keeping up with technology that didn't directly help his work.

(---would he actually do it? Would he hurt them? Kill them? Ari was just a kid, why would he threaten a kid?)

Jericho physically cringed, as if his body was trying to jar him out of his mind, away from the worst-case-scenarios, and he sucked in through gritted teeth. They wouldn't let it happen, they wouldn't let it happen. Would it be better to play Vic's game? To sacrifice themselves and hope he kept his word?

Would it be enough to safeguard his family?

He didn't know, and that uncertainty pushed him towards trying. If they didn't find enough on Vic’s computer, they didn't have to go forward with this. But if they found something, they needed more than just verbal threats. They needed a weapon.

Sahota had used a micro-usb before, back on the mission that had gone wrong. Jericho knew there had to be more laying around the compound, and he'd set Benji to work on locating one. Meanwhile, Joy and Kaius were on the map-studying shift to throw off suspicion, and Jer was in the gym, jotting down notes on a scrap of paper between bench sets.

It was his job to carve a path into the computer, his job to find something and utilize it. He could still remember the folder Hunter had found. Untitled 1, all the odd videos tucked inside. Who knew if there would be more? Kaius had suggested a backup: along with the USB, they'd also schedule an email containing their findings, just to ensure it all got out there somehow. He didn't know who he'd address it to just yet. Maybe his entire contact list. All that mattered was threatening whatever secrets Vic held.

Once night fell, they'd find out exactly what those secrets were.

Once night fell, the game was on.

×~×~×

Third time's the charm.

Sneaking through the compound’s halls was practically a team bonding activity by now. Waiting until the end of the day had been agony, but somehow Jericho hadn't lost his mind, though the last few hours before they'd agreed to meet had been spent curled up in his bed, praying furiously and trying not to break down.

Benji had managed to snatch a USB, so at least one step of the plan was covered. Now for the rest… the variables felt endless. Vic could spot them in the hallway, he could be at his computer, he could wake up when they passed his room, but they had to try, didn't they? Even if he did catch them, would they really be so much worse off than they already were?

Maybe if he caught them, if they were forced to take the fall, not all of them would have to go down. Maybe just one would be enough to satisfy the machine. Benji already had a criminal record, and Joy had enemies who might go after her family if they saw her on the news. Jericho would make the most sense; he'd nearly been caught elbow-deep in corporate guts before, doing as much damage as he could. What was one more company on his list?

Their group made it to the corridor where their trainers stayed without any close calls. Benji and Joy had agreed to stand guard while Jer and Kaius tried their luck with the computer. Kaius had done investigative work before, and Jericho hoped he could offer better insight, find things that were incriminating. No, better than that, find something that would actually scare Vic to know they knew. Assuming such a thing was even possible. Tonight was one big gamble; a wager with their very lives as the betting prize. They had to find something, there had to be something.

It was surprisingly easy to crack Vic's login. Probably because he wasn't worried about software security within the physical security of his locked compound. Good. He'd call that good. Any other occasion, he'd feel guilty betraying the trust of someone who had brought them into their home, but all those feelings had become unreasonable the second those photos were taken.

He'd given Sahota a letter for his mom. Was that how Vic had found them? Was it his fault? It was his fault, wasn't it? 

Stop. Stop, you're working. You're fixing it.

Jericho opened the file explorer with a soft exhale. Where to start? This would be easier with Hunter's supernatural directions. The thought of the younger man made him wince. What would happen to Hunter, if they blackmailed Vic? Of course Jericho would give him the chance to leave with them, but would he take it? He didn't want to think about that, not on top of all the other terrible possibilities, but the thought lingered, merging with his very movements like dye spreading through water.

Ari’d had a science project like that in kindergarten. Mixing primary colors to see what she could make. By the end of it, there was water everywhere, and the plastic cup was full of a muddy, murky green.

I don't really like that color very much, dad, let's try again.

Jericho felt like that overcolored water now, full of too many different dyes, clouding his thoughts, driving his focus to pieces.

Drop, Marla, Ari, Mom.

Drop, Me, Joy, Benji, Kaius.

Drop, Hunter.

Sahota.

Vic.

Whatever they found, it had to be enough. Everything hung in the balance.

“What do you think?” Jericho whispered, letting Kaius take the mouse and scroll through the various folders. The first batch of titles seemed straightforward. Mission Data, Logs, Expenses, Locations. A few were only acronyms, but Jericho could guess at what they contained. POI (persons of interest?), UD (useful documentation?). There was a lot they could potentially work with, but there was also… a lot. And they didn't have all night.

“If we're threatening governmental action, we need as much as we can find. Certain agencies let certain crimes slide if their asset is useful enough.” Kaius clicked the folder labelled UD. “Treasonous activity could be enough on its own, but we may not find anything of that degree.”

Jericho nodded, reaching past him to plug in the USB. “Guess we gotta keep our eyes peeled.”

They scanned each folder quickly, Jericho watching from over Kaius's shoulder. A few files made their way to the USB; foreign contacts, suspicious looking documents on people who were either CIA or former CIA, and a few files full of vague descriptions and decades-old dates. 

But even if that was enough to turn the agencies against him, was it enough to get him off their backs right now?

“We need to keep looking.”

“I know.”

They'd already used up half an hour, according to the computer's clock. There hadn't been any alarm from the other two, but that didn't mean he wanted to sit around and risk it. They'd barely scratched the surface of what was here, but doing a thorough search would take hours, if not days.

Was it worth it to look for Untitled 1? It could be a waste of time, something important only to Vic, but Hunter had been pulled towards it before. Didn't that mean something?

“Here, let me.” 

Kaius relinquished the mouse to Jer, scooting aside to let him drive for a bit. He was half expecting another wild goose chase, a plethora of Untitled 1s to sort through, hoping one of them gave them the tiniest scrap to work with.

But there was only one. 

Jericho opened it.

Inside, he was greeted by the same video files as before, bottle, battery, switch, along with a few he'd failed to catch before Hunter clicked away. Gag. Needles. Knife.

“What's this?”

“I'm not sure. Hunter… Harbor found it when we were doing work for the mission. I feel like it's important.” One of the files, he realized, wasn't a video at all, instead standing out as the only PDF. And unlike the others, it was only labelled as Untitled Document.

He didn't want to open it. Something about this was just all kinds of wrong; he could feel the danger in his guts. But that was what they were looking for, wasn't it?

Jericho clicked the file, waited for it to load, held his breath and hoped it wouldn't be as bad as his instinct insisted.

The first page was a missing persons flyer, big red letters in bold across the top, little black rows of informational text running downwards, parallel to a photograph. 

For a heavy moment, Jericho could only stare at it. He’d had moments like this before. Times where he was looking at something obvious, familiar, but his brain was short-circuiting, thoughts disconnected, disbelieving. A moment frozen in a prey-animal panic when he realized he was almost hit by a car, when the wires he'd been working on were live and he'd only gotten lucky. A moment of delayed recognition when Marla had an interview on the news about a new wing opening at the hospital. 

This moment filled him with a sick mixture of both; bone-deep fear and familiarity all rolled into one.

The boy on the flyer was Sahota.

Kaius seemed locked in that same frozen silence, saying nothing, the quiet of the room ringing in their ears.

Sahota was smiling in the photo, looking so much younger, smaller, brighter. It was shot like the kind of picture used in a student ID. Beside it there was a number to call, a name. Drishti Sahota (Mother).

Jericho forced himself to breathe, scrolling deeper into the document and finding more of the same. Articles about where he was last seen, friends and coworkers speaking out about their concern, clues and hints that went nowhere. A sudden stop as the case went cold.

“It's possible he ran away, right?” The words tumbled out of their own accord, more of a self assurance than a genuine question. It was possible, but did he really believe it?

Kaius didn't answer. “What are the videos?” he asked.

Videos. There were still the videos. Jericho closed the PDF, hovering over the first video file. Bottle. What did it mean? He already knew it was something he didn't want to know, but he opened it anyway. Hit play.

The screen filled with a concrete room, a shelf lining one wall, a chair in the center, a person in the chair. He knew it was Sahota. God help him, it was Sahota. Their trainer, looking fifteen years younger, bruises and fear staining his face, small and uncertain in the ropes he was bound with.

Kaius was rigid beside him, hardly breathing, his eyes wide as they both took it in.

The boy on the screen straightened at the sound of a door opening, putting on his best attempt at a brave face and pointing it at the intruder. It was Vic. Of course, it was Vic. He was younger, less gray in his hair, but he was unmistakable in his movement, in his voice.

“Ten days,” the Vic on the screen said. “That's how long you'll have to tell me what I want to know. And every day you don't…” He laid a hand on the empty shelf. “We'll have something new to play with.”

Tell him..? Was Vic trying to get information from Sahota? Had that been the start of it all? A fleeting voice in his head was trying to be heard above a rush of panicked thoughts. It's only training, see? It's just like the fake interrogations we did last week. He ran away, that's all.

But even as he whispered it, hoped for it, his guts were coiling.

Jericho glanced at the timestamp. Forty-five minutes. “We can't finish this,” he said simply. What else was there to say? The image on the screen felt unreal.

Kaius said nothing, simply skipping forward. When the picture loaded, Sahota was on his stomach, legs still bound to the chair, hands still tied behind his back, Vic postured over him.

“Wait—” he said, but it was already playing.

“No, no, no, what are you—?”

Vic was holding him down, one hand fumbling with the boy's belt. “Shhh, I'll be as gentle as you let me.”

Jericho closed the video, nearly launching the mouse into the wall in his hurry, heart hammering in his throat. The image burned at the back of his eyelids, stomach pitching every time he blinked. Even now, his mind was trying to find reason in what he saw, unhelpful, laughable. Oh, it's okay, they're just playing, see? Everyone's okay, see?

Kaius was silent beside him, his expression unreadable as he took the mouse. Clicked another video.

“What are you—?”

“We need to know what's going on.”

Jericho’s eyes were glued to the desk as the audio started, his voice coming out uneven. “Is that not clear? He's… he was kidnapped.” It had to be said out loud. He couldn't let the side of his brain that was still sitting in shell-shock, still optimistic, tell him otherwise. He was kidnapped. And whatever Vic did to him didn't stop when Jericho closed the video.

“But why?” Kaius said. There was no emotion in his voice. “And why is he still here?”

Now wasn't the time. Knowing this much should be enough, they could just send these files in the email, couldn't they? They didn't need to keep watching. But his eyes trailed up anyway. Wager, this one was called. 

It took a second to spot Sahota, huddled behind the door to the room, a knife in his hand. Naked. Shaking. Welts across his back and upper thighs. The door opened, and the shivering bundle of limbs became a blur, knife flashing out to sink into Vic's leg. The older man yelled, jerking away, but Sahota caught his leg, bringing him to his knees.

Jericho already knew how it would end, but that part of him still in denial dared to hope, adrenaline spilling into him, insisting he could make it, he could beat the bad guy and get away. But he already knew how it would end.

Sahota fell onto Vic, attacking him with the knife, but the older man was stronger. He caught each of the boy’s wrists, backing him into the wall, speaking to him in a low voice while Sahota cried and struggled. After a moment, the blade clattered to the ground, and Vic rewarded his captive with a blow to the stomach. He grabbed Sahota by the hair, throwing him into the center of the room with the ease of a man who truly didn't care how his victim landed.

“That was so brave of you,” Vic hissed. “So fucking courageous.”

Sahota tried to push himself up as the man rained vicious kicks onto him, grabbing his ankle and jerking him backwards when he tried to crawl away. Vic straddled him, mumbling something Jericho couldn't hear, then his fists rained down on the boy's face, again and again until he was senseless, eyes glazed, face bloody, no longer struggling as Vic rolled him onto his stomach, and—

“Turn it off.”

Kaius was quick to comply.

“This is enough,” Jericho said, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck, squeezing the base of his dreads, trying to pull away from a moment that happened so long ago.

Did it keep happening?

Was it still happening?

“We should go.”

“One more,” Kaius said, in that same emotionless voice. He was honed in, still seeking answers. Would he be able to stop on his own? The mouse hovered over the last video. Knife.

“No,” Jericho said before he could start it. “No, we already know, Kaius. We already know.”

“We don't.” His teeth seemed to grit around the words. “This isn't just to use against Vic. Sahota is a part of this too. If we don't know how this ends… what's keeping him here? Did he choose it?”

“How could he choose? You saw him.” He was afraid, hurt, pleading with Vic. There was no choice there. 

“There could be something Vic is using against him. We can't rush in if we don't know what could go wrong.”

Jericho dropped his gaze as Kaius opened the video, listened as he clicked through it, perhaps not wanting to see Sahota's hollow eyes, the unhealed wounds covering his too-thin body, Vic maneuvering him around.

The frame he landed on saw the boy on his knees before Vic, a heavy blade in the latter’s hand.

“...not a spy, Ander, but you could become one. I see your potential. Hell, I'm almost embarrassed to say it, but I've gotten a little attached to you. You can stay with me. Train under me.” He leveled the blade, angling its tip towards Ander's frozen form. “Or you can refuse my offer, and I'll slit your throat.”

Bastard. Jericho looked down again, unable to stomach the sheer terror in the boy's eyes.

“Wh-what happens if I–?”

“If you accept? I'll put you through hell, but you'll come out stronger. Accept, and you belong to me. You will follow every order. You won't so much as breathe without my say-so. But I will shape you into something great.”

God help them, God help them. This all felt like something they never should've seen, a peek into Sahota's memories, something private and vulnerable and painful. It all had to be for a reason, they had to do something about it. If Sahota was here against his will, if Vic…

Jericho clenched his jaw.

Why had he never run? Was he afraid? Did he think he couldn't?

Would he run now, if he knew they knew? Would he run if they only asked, if they promised they'd watch his back, keep him safe from Vic?

"You’re mine now,” the man on the screen interrupted his waterfall of thoughts. “If anyone but me touches you, I'll make them regret it, but if I touch you, you shut up and take it. Betraying Tom was your key to a better life, trust me, but if you betray me I'll make these last ten days look like a fucking tea party. Mhm?”

Kaius closed the media player. His face was stony as he transferred the video files onto the USB.

You're mine now.

All this time… was it any wonder Vic showed no concern for Sahota when he was willing to do something like this? Was it any wonder he'd let him be hurt during the mock interrogations? And Sahota was so obedient, never hesitated, did everything Vic asked, because he had no choice. He was a prisoner here, snared by Vic, just like they were, but worse. So much worse. The kid on the missing poster, the kid in the videos was young. Maybe not even out of his teens yet. How had Vic gotten him? How had they possibly crossed paths, what had Vic wanted with him? He knew Vic did top secret work, but what did Ander Sahota have to do with any of that?

Not a spy, but you could become one.

Was it all some brutal initiation? No, it was more than that, he was missing, he was crying in those videos, begging for it to stop. And in the end, he'd been given a choice. Join Vic, or die. A choice that was still in play, keeping him in line, keeping him coming back. His mother was listed on the flyer, was that Vic's chip against him? Was he keeping her under threat the same way he was with the rest of their families? 

What does it matter, how he keeps him here? We need to do something.

The room was silent aside from the roar of the ancient computer, the scrape of the mouse as Kaius slid it over to him. They still had work to do, and as hard as it was to make himself move, just sitting here wasn't an option. 

Jericho felt like he was on autopilot as he logged into his burner email. Drag the files in, address to the CIA tipline, to the FBI, to his church, to the damn local news. The files on Vic, pointing to his more scrutinizable acts, and any information they could compile on who he was. The video files. Jericho tried not to linger on their titles, a younger Sahota's cries ringing in his ears, building a pressure behind his eyes, in his throat, in his stomach.

He scheduled the email for three days from now. Plenty of time to delete it if they found another way. Hopefully enough of a threat that Vic would back down. His body felt like lead in the chair as he removed the USB and shut down the computer.

“It'll work,” he whispered, more to himself than to Kaius. “It needs to work.”

“We’ll need a second plan. In case it doesn't.”

The other man's response made him want to scream. It had to work. They had to get away from here, they had to bring Vic to justice, they had to help Sahota. Jericho took a deep breath. It didn't satisfy his lungs. Kaius was right. They couldn't stake everything on this, but what else could they do? They could force Vic to back down, or they could comply. Or…

“We may have to kill him,” Kaius spoke aloud what Jericho didn't want to think. “Do you think you could? If it came down to it?”

He wasn't a killer.

“Could you?”

Kaius's mouth tightened. “I want to believe I could. I don't know.”

Could he? If Vic tried to hurt one of them, could he? Joy was better with weapons, but Jericho was bigger, the only one who rivaled Vic in sheer size. If it came down to it, he'd have no choice, would he? He'd kill Vic, or he'd let someone else die, and both options ended with someone's blood on his hands.

He had to. He had to make that choice right now, tell himself that he would, or he knew he'd hesitate.

“If it does come to that, we'd all need to act together.” Vic was skilled, strong, but they could outnumber him. Unless Hunter—

Hunter.

A sharp sickness shot through him, memory of the video once again flooding his head. Vic was targeting Hunter, too. Jericho tried to go back to the meeting, tried to remember if the younger man had any new wounds. But those could be hidden. Hunter hadn't said anything to them, hadn't given them a secret look or come to them for help, but would he? He was dead set on staying with Vic, but was he stubborn enough to stay if Vic…

Would he let Vic hurt him like that? Had he already, while none of them were looking? Jericho couldn't rule it out, couldn't let the hopeful part of him speak over the part that was afraid, not now. What could they do, if Hunter had already seen this side of Vic and still chose him? If the worst had already happened, would continue to happen, but he refused to leave? Was it right to let him make that choice if it would kill him? Or would they have to drag him away, kicking and screaming, to save his life?

Let him listen, please just let him listen. It wasn't a choice Jericho wanted to make. He prayed he wouldn't have to.

He and Kaius left the room in a heavy silence. Judging by the way Benji looked at them when they entered the hall, something of what they'd witnessed must've reflected on their faces—and how could it not? How could they walk away smiling after that?

“Shit, what's wrong? Did you find—?”

Jericho hushed him. Not here, not in the open. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to be the one to tell him and Joy about Sahota, about what Vic did to him. It wasn't his to share. But they had to be aware of it. They had to be on the same page. They had to know that Hunter was in just as much danger as the rest of them, if not more.

“Let's go back to my room,” Jericho said under his breath, doing his best to keep his voice steady.

“We… we have a lot to talk about.”

×~×~×

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden ,

@snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa ,

@whumpcateyes , @clickerflight , @sodacreampuff , @starfields08000 ,

@neverthelass , @melpomenelamusa , @what-if-i-just-did

[hamable]

I hope, however the growing Cassandra plot plays out, that she grows the following and appreciation she deserves. Kristen talks with her cleric Professor about a no one wanting a religion based on uncertainty, but I think that could be massively popular??

Like, a divinity based around the idea that there is no grand plan, nothing is preordained. You are born, you enjoy things, and then you pass on, and what you do with that chunk of time is up to you. No, not all your questions will be answered. How could they be? How comfortable are you with not knowing?

I think a lot of people in Solace would like something like that to pray to and rely on and connect with, even if that connection is “idk either, but I hear you.”

[rari0516]

can’t wait for the black butler climax 🙏

[3-aem]

MY BRAINS NOT WORKING AND THE CUTE BOY I WORK WITH KEEPS CORRECTING MY GRAMMAR THIS IS SO AHAIWIAKSDHDGRRRRHRNE

[atopvisenyashill]

not people calling george unprofessional for his post my god will u bitches never stop dickriding for this corporation is the man who created these characters not allowed to have an opinion on the way they’re adapting his work. they’re HIS characters!

[bberetd]

I woke up in a cutesy fluffy mood today so I’m dumping my cutesy fluffy mood onto these goons 🚶‍♀️

This takes place one day post-marriage!

==

Bright

He woke up with the blinding orange-tinted sunlight in his eyes. It took him a while to stir, trying to remember if he was real or not. It wasn’t until he moved his arms that he realized they felt stiff, so he outstretched them from their current position, then moved them back onto the wonderfully soft and silk object he was holding.

Wait, what am I holding?

Luigi cast his eyes up in thought and slight fear. A small, paranoid part of him that maybe it was one of those good dreams gone bad where he would discover that it was a giant spider he was holding and devour him whole once he made eye contact. But he took a chance and ran his right hand down the material, and the curiosity immediately faded away; he recognized that feeling from anywhere. He tilted his head down, enough to see his beautiful princess sleeping against him, or at least the top of her hair and forehead, since her face was buried in his chest.

He smiled tiredly, now comfortably combing his hand through the back of her suddenly larger-looking hair. Humidity had never been kind to Daisy; she would always wake up with a hundred percent frizzier hair. It got worse as she got older, and because of this, she had to wake up earlier in the mornings, as it would take more time to make it look normal again. They both couldn’t help but wonder what powers above in the Overthere gave her this curse. As far as Daisy could remember, she had always been well-behaved. Pretty much.

But the frizz unveiled the true volume of Daisy’s hair, and it just gave Luigi more to run his hands through, so it was a win in his book. He brought his left arm up to pet her bangs, pulling her closer in the process. That was when his eyes registered the shiny diamond on his ring finger, and everything snapped into place: He was holding his wife. And he, he was a husband! The knowledge was enough to make his heart jump and further wake him up. His reality was further confirmed as he felt the same rock gently pressing onto his back from Daisy’s own finger.  The room suddenly felt a lot brighter. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be holding the most beautiful woman in Sarasaland, hell, all the kingdoms in this world, so closely and intimately, and call him his, and him hers.

Luigi felt Daisy’s eyelashes flutter against his chest, a surefire sign that she was waking up, making his smile grow. He leaned in and whispered against her forehead. “Buongiorno, Fiore.”

Daisy made a sleepy noise, clutching and unclutching the back of his shirt, which in Daisinese (a language Luigi and their friends proudly created) meant, “I’m awake, but I’m too tired to talk.” Luigi couldn’t help but let out a light huff of amusement. Sleepy Daisy was a hard contrast from awake and chipper Daisy. One of the things that he found cute about her was how she was a grabber in her sleep, clenching her hand around anything it came into contact with. In some moments when she was napping, Luigi would hover over her and place his hand where their hands would meet. Normally, her face was resting in her sleep, but when her hand would unknowingly close around Luigi’s, a small smile would form on her face, as if she could feel his presence.

Daisy held Luigi a bit tighter in her half-asleep state, mumbling something incoherent against his chest. Luigi chuckled lightly.

“Wake up, you,” he teased before planting several light kisses on her forehead, which resulted in tired, muffled giggles from Daisy, and the shaking of her head. He pulled back slightly and looked for his next favorite spot on Daisy’s face: her freckles, dotted and perfectly aligned on the top of her cheeks. He leaned in again to kiss each and every one of them, further stirring Daisy awake.

“Stooooooooopp,” she laughed, moving her arms to push at Luigi’s chest. Normally, fifty percent of Daisy’s power would be enough to knock Luigi off the bed, but she was sleepy and hardly trying, letting him win even. Luigi laughed with her, grabbing both her hands in his own and smiling from ear to ear.

“Then wake up!”

Daisy’s eyes finally opened, in slow motion it felt like, and they met Luigi’s. She gave him a goofy smile before moving her eyes down to their joined hands, taking note of the rings on their finger. Her smile softened, but then brightened, looking back up to Luigi. “Morning… hubby.”

Luigi gave her a playful but heartfelt smile. “Morning… wifey.” His face twisted up slightly at how the word sounded coming out of his mouth. And a silent, agreeing single nod from Daisy confirmed that he would never say that again. But it was back to smiles after that.

“Nooo. Italian-ify it or something. I like when you do that.” Daisy smiled sweetly.

Luigi thought for a moment before the term popped into his head and tried his greeting again. “Okay, then. Good morning, moglie.”

Daisy blushed and giggled like an idiot, using their now entwined hands to cover her mouth. She loved how smoothly Italian rolled off his tongue. “Much better.” She tugged on his hands, pulling him in for a tender morning kiss.

Luigi smiled into the kiss, closing his eyes. Today would definitely be a good day.

==

[lonestarbattleship]

Hull of VERMONT (BB-20) after being launched at the Fore River Shipyard.

Date: August 31, 1905

Digital Collections Massachusetts Collections Online: LS1035

Information from Navsource: link

[sophfandoms53]

Brooklyn fucking with Tucker’s clothes (attempting to blame it on Quinn) and Tucker’s wild ‘scenarios’ ass mindset are aboutta be what saves Quinn this week

[apurpledust]

young napoleon 🥺 🥺

[vangbelsing]

I'm hoping they'll confirm the ages of the companions in Veilguard. I need to know if Lucanis is as old as I think he is because if he is in his twenties I'm going to end it all (I imagine to be about 35 or so)