#side note. i obviously know about state law being allowed to be more protective than federal law

[quaranmine]

Hermitcraft has State Law not Federal Law. That solves some of the problems since Hermit Rules are stricter then Minecraft rules like CalEPA is stricter then Fed EPA

-🐘

Ah, that's an interesting idea. Treating the rules of the game like it's the federal law and HEP like it's a state program enforcing tighter rules? That's a perspective I did not think of now, nor at the time!

[americancowgirl19]

To the End of Days

Summary: Caius reassures you how important you are to him

Warnings: Fluff, angst

Reader: Gender Neutral Read but it leans more feminine 

Pairings: Caius Volturi x Human Reader

Word Count: 1,132

A/n:  This was a request by an anon: Hey love! I was reading your works, and I’m in love!! I was wondering if you could write a fic about caius from twilight, where the girl is his mate, and he killed someone in a gruesome way and he didn’t know she was around. and she was scared of him doing that to her? I’m glad you’re enjoying my work! Hopefully you’ll like this one!

Masterlist

How did your life get to this? A couple of months ago you were visiting Italy before fall semester of college. Now you’re living in a castle full of vampires. They wouldn’t let you leave but a part of you, a part that grows bigger as time passes, didn’t want to leave.

You had miraculously survived the tour massacre but only because a blond vampire had protected you. Caius had protected you. He took you to a private room and explained what was going on. He wasn’t the kindest but as you spent more time with him you noticed he was softening up around you.

No longer was he sneering at everything you did or tensing when you accidently touched. His words weren’t as harsh as they used to be and he’s becoming more patient with you. You two had a long way to go but it pleased you that he was beginning to try. 

The last couple of weeks had been... nice. No one tried to kill you. Caius and you hadn’t fought over anything. You even made a friend out of the vampires Corin and Chelsea. They explained the things you were too scared or uncomfortable to ask Caius.

Of course, being one of the only humans amongst vampires made things interesting. You had good times but there was also plenty of tense and nerve-racking moments.

You felt silly, the last few weeks had been good enough to where you believed things were finally becoming normal again. It didn’t occur to you, during this time, that you lived with vicious human eating creatures. Not only were they vicious against humans but amongst themselves and other vampires as well.

You were rudely reminded when you were walking down the hall with Corin and a vampire came out of the throne room a few feet in front of you. The Volturi had brought in a coven. They were destroying them when one escaped.

It’s pure black eyes looked at you. Corin moved in front of you as the vampire shifted. Before he could attack you two a tall, blond vampire appeared. Caius had followed the vampire out. He mercilessly tore him apart. It’s the most brutal act of violence you witnessed since surviving the tour feeding.

Seeing that Caius had the vampire handled, Corin scoops you up and runs. She only stops once your in the room you share with Caius. She gently sets you down and ushers you inside.

You walk inside and close the door behind you. You knew she would stand guard outside. You paced in the room, your fingers threading through your hair a hundred times.

Your mind is racing. All you can think about is how ruthless these vampires are. You think about the tour feeding. Innocent people who just wanted to get out of the house slaughtered all around you. You remember the stench, the screams, the fear. You remember the look in the vampires eyes as they fed and how they tried to get to you. They were inhuman.

You slowly sit down at the table trying to calm down. You wanted to trust that Caius wouldn’t hurt you. Hell, he’s the one that’s always protecting you. But still you couldn’t help but wonder.

Corin had once explained to you about the laws of the vampire world. Humans weren’t supposed to know about their kind, let alone live in their castle. You were human. How much longer would you be alive? Would you fall asleep and just never wake up? Would Caius get tired of your and drain you dry? Had he saved you just to save your fresh blood for a rainy day? Or would another vampire try to kill you and either Caius wouldn’t save you or he wouldn’t be there?

When the door opens you’re head snaps over. Caius enters and takes his cloak off. You’re eyes follow him. You try to force yourself to relax but all you can think about is Caius destroying the vampire right in front of you.

“You’re heart is running faster than a jackrabbit, my dear” Caius comments finally turning toward you. Your body tenses even more. You try to gauge his temperament but the only time Caius ever shows emotion is when he’s angry. Anger and arrogance are the only emotion Caius allows to show through. “Are you alright?” He asks, slowly approaching you as if you were a skittish animal.

“I’m fine,” Your voice squeaks. He raises his eyebrows obviously not believing you.

“Wanna try that again?” He suggests, sitting in the seat beside you. “You’re afraid,” He notes. “What’s wrong?” Your eyes downcast to your fidgeting fingers. He grips your chin and forces you to look back at him. “Tell me,” He demands.

“Are you going to kill me?” You ask, your voice lower than you expected.

“Kill you?” Caius searches your eyes as he wonders why you’re thinking about this. “Eventually, when you’re ready, you’ll be turned into a vampire,” Caius tells you. “But that will not be for a least another year, perhaps more if you truly wish,”

“You’re going to turn me,” You state, though it sounds like a question.

“Yes,” Caius nods. “And I will help you adjust when the time comes. Until then, you will live here as a human. I won’t allow any harm to come to you,”

“You’ll protect me...” Caius nods. “... Even from yourself?” You whisper.

“Are you afraid... of me?” Caius asks, shifting in his seat. You look away again. Caius doesn’t force you to look at him but he grabs your hands. You cling to his small act of comfort but you crave more. You grip his hands and as if he can read your mind, he pulls you from your chair and onto his lap.

Naturally, you curl into his chest. His cool arms wrap around you and his chin rests on your head. He’s never been this affectionate before and you’re soaking it up while you can.

“You, my sweet darling, are the only person alive that has nothing to fear from me. I will never harm you. I will protect you to the end of days.” He vows. Slowly, your body loses the tension and your heart slows. “You’re going to be fine, amore, I’ll protect you and be by your side forever,” You smile, snuggling deeper into his embrace.

Caius cracks a smile, holding you closer. His eyes close as he enjoys the feeling of you in his arms. He never wants to let you go and is relieved that you’re not fighting to leave his grip. He risks a kiss on to top of your head and is pleased when he notices the corner of your lip lifting.

“You’re mine,” He whispers, kissing your head once more.

[miekasa]

out of the woods (eren jaeger)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x reader

↯ genres and warnings: royalty au (not within the snk universe), knight/bodyguard au, friends? to lovers? implied? perhaps? maybe one day, but eren’s obviously in love with you lol, sorry i had to make jean the token little shit character but i love him

↯ notes: i spend a lot of time thinking about royalty aus in which the reader is in line for the throne and eren is her very impulsive, but very skilled personal guard because i love him

↯ word count: 1.5k

The harsh clinking of metal ringing in your ears is probably the only thing that keeps you from falling asleep in your chair. Eren’s always a bit fidgety when he’s completely suited, covered almost head to toe in armor and weaponry. It’s a bit excessive, too, which is why he’s not required to look like a walking chandelier on a regular basis, and especially not within castle walls—his normal uniform and longsword at his side in case of an unlikely emergency; but for meetings like these, Eren adorns all four layers of shiny, heavy, gold armor.

It’s more of a status symbol, decoration even, than for his or your own protection, really. And it’s his sly way of keeping you awake during long, drawn out civil duties meetings like these; he knows you hate the sound of all the metals clinking together, but it’s an effective way to making sure you don’t fall asleep face first on the table, and embarrass yourself in front of other royalty and noblemen.

Eren’s arguably a little too impulsive to be a knight, especially for one that stands at the right hand of the sole princess to the kingdom; and definitely the most mischievous of all the royal guards. And, as if to prove it, he shakes his wrist near your ear again when he sees you spacing out, prompting you to shake your head reflexively. He has to hold back his chuckle.

“Princess,” both yours and Eren’s attention shift to the voice that calls after you, “You seem a bit… distracted? Is anything the matter?”

The sound of Jean’s voice is enough to make Eren straighten his spine, his noisy wrist falling to rest his hand on your shoulder protectively. Eren feels you relax your shoulders under his touch, a silent message that he’s free to withdraw and do the same, but he stays sharp.

“My apologies, Jean,” you reply, voice kind and steady, “I have quite a bit on my plate, please pardon my absentmindedness.”

Jean hums, a cheshire grin growing on his lips, as his gaze settles on Eren, rather than you. Jean leans forward, the ruffled cravat around his neck tickling his chin as he brings his elbow onto the table, and his cheek to rest against his palm.

“Surely you’re in no immediate danger, princess,” Jean drawls, slowly, eyes now fixated on you, “Your guard dog can stand down in the presence of friends, no?”

Eren grits his teeth, growing more restless with every word that leaves Jean’s irritating mouth. The prick has the audacity to smirk when Eren’s free hand goes to rest against the sheath for his sword.

You, however, simply smile politely. The other men and women of the court are silent around the table; some eyes wide with anticipation, or perhaps anxiety, as the tension between Eren and Jean grows. You look slightly behind Jean, where Armin stands against the wall, his stance neutral, but his face concerned, with a look that speaks a thousand words—or, rather, twelve: tell Eren to relax, or there will be a bloody royal murder.

Carefully, you bend your own arm back, as to place your palm atop Eren’s hand still resting on your shoulder; then looking towards Jean: “Eren is my primary guard and advisor, Prince Jean, just as Marco is to you,” you state calmly, gesturing to the seat at Jean’s right, where Marco is seated, “He is by my side at all times.”

Eren knows that; and Jean knows it, too. He also knows this is a losing battle, but he wants to play, anyway.

“I understand, my lady, but surely there’s no need for Eren to be on guard for high-level threats at such a minuscule gathering,” Jean taunts, looking Eren in the eyes before continuing, “Besides, I’m sure a husband would provide much more civil protection, wouldn’t you agree?”

It takes you squeezing Eren’s hand with all your strength to get him to even think about refraining from unsheathing his sword and putting it through Jean’s head. He feels your orders, but it does nothing to calm him, though; angry, vengeful, green eyes boring into the prince’s soul.

Jean smirks, slips in another sly innuendo about he could please you better than any knight in your court, and Eren almost loses it. His right hand is on the handle of his sword, a glimmer of handcrafted gold peeking through its casing. His moves have the other knights on guard, too; Armin silently signaling for Mikasa to be careful, or ready.

“Eren,” you call, but you’re looking at Jean, “Stand down.”

You have to repeat your words twice more for them to get past Eren’s cloudy mind and growing growls. You squeeze his hand again, and reluctantly, he takes a step back—evens out his footing, removes his hand from your shoulder, lets go of his weapon. His stance is neutral at your right hand now, and the relief in the room is palpable. And audible from Armin, who lets out a sigh; he can rest now, knowing that the foreign prince won’t be beheaded.

With a similar sigh, you stand to address your other guests, “I believe a recess is in order. Mikasa will usher you to the ballroom for hors d’oeuvres and wine. We will reconvene at quarter to the hour.”

The noblemen, advisors, and other royalty nod in acknowledgement, moving to the exit as Mikasa leads them through the castle corridors and into the appropriate room. Prince Jean falls behind the rest, offering you and wink and a cocky grin before being pulled by Marco. Armin is the last to exit, saluting you politely as his stands in the entryway.

“Would you like for some refreshments to be brought to you, princess?” he questions.

“You don’t have to be so formal when they’re not around, you know that,” you smile gently. Armin gapes, a light, embarrassed blush falling across his cheeks, “It’s fine, Armin. I’ll be there shortly.”

Armin nods, giving Eren a look, before finally exiting and following behind the crowd. When you’re alone, Eren finally speaks.

“I don’t like him.” 

“I thought you and Armin were friends,” you joke, pushing yourself from out of your seat and standing next to him. Eren’s side-eye speaks a thousand words, but you find yourself chuckling in response.

“You promised me you’d work on that temper of yours,” you taunt, taking a few steps towards the door. Amused by his pouty demeanor, you extend your hand for Eren to hold like a child, “Come on, knights shouldn’t pout.”

Eren rolls his eyes, gingerly taking your hand, only to spin you around and wrap his arms around your middle. He fits his chin into the crook of your shoulder, “Knights shouldn’t have to justify wanting to murder asshole princes, either.”

“Jean means well,” you say, laughter seeping through your words at Eren’s evident disagreement with your statement. You reach a hand backwards to comb through his hair to quell his irritated state; an action well received, as the taller boy nuzzles his face deeper into your shoulder, his body finally fully relaxing, “He shouldn’t intentionally antagonize you, but he’s still a prince, Eren. You have to be careful.”

Eren huffs, and holds you a little tighter. “Him being a prince means nothing to me.”

“I’m serious,” you sigh, letting the hand in his hair fall down to your side, and then to rest atop his that are over your stomach, “You can’t be that hasty. Your actions could be seen as an attempt on royal blood by the wrong people.”

“And his words could be seen as harassment and defamation of the princess and her associates, in which case I am within my rights to attack, and you are within your rights to sue,” Eren counters. 

He removes his hands from your waist, gently resting them on your shoulders to turn you to face him now. He’s got that stupid look on his face, the one he gets when he’s a little too overly confident, but Eren’s not dumb; he’s impulsive, and passionate, but he knows the law of your land like the back of his hand, particularly where it pertains to protecting you. 

“And he did it while on your land. It would have been defense of the princess—precautionary knightsmanship, really—if I had sliced his head off.”

“Precautionary knightsmanship sounds made up,” you say, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“It’s real. It’s in the knight handbook, trust me,” Eren replies, leaning down to press a single kiss to your forehead. He removes his hands from your shoulders, stepping past you before turning back with one arm extended, “Come on, allow me to escort you to the tiny, not fulfilling, rich people finger foods.”

You chuckle, placing your smaller hand in his, “They’re called hors d’oeuvres, Eren.”

“That sounds even more ridiculous,” he notes, wrapping his fingers around your palm, “Just eat normal meals and portions like the rest of us.”

“You know, you’re allowed to eat the tiny, rich people finger foods, too.”

“I know,” Eren hums, turning his head as he begins to walk you in the direction of the ballroom, “But I’d rather have Jean’s head.”  

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Tom Hagen

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

-  Everyone in town knew about the Corleone's, you yourself had heard the occasional rumor or story from friends and coworkers but never in your life would you have imagined you’d meet one of them. 

- When your parents told you they were going to meet with the Godfather you didn’t believe them, or at least you didn’t believe that they were serious. You would soon come to realize that they were when you arrived home from running errands, only to find the families Consigliere sitting at your kitchen table. 

- Your parents enthusiastically introduced the two of you as the man stood to greet you. You had the overwhelming urge to pinch yourself as you shook his hand but instead you excused yourself, trying your best not to look as stunned as you felt. 

- It took him about a month or so to work things out with your parents. In that time, the two of you began to make occasional small talk, mainly when you walked him to the door or while your parents did something in the other room. You were also able to have a few conversations over dinner as your parents would invite him to stay and eat with you. 

- You were more than grateful for his help, finding him to be quite sweet and easy on the eyes; if you did say so yourself. He himself grew to be quite infatuated with you but out of respect for your parents and his usual favor towards not mixing personal life with business, he waited until he was finished with helping your parents before he finally asked you out on a date. 

- For your first date, he took you to a restaurant you’d never been before, some upscale, beautiful place that you could only assume was the usual for him and his family. He, of course, paid for everything, telling you to get anything you desired. 

- All delicious food aside, you really fell for him that night. Without your parents around, you could get a real good look at his true personality and boy did you like what you saw. He was intellectual, poised, polite; refined in a way you weren’t quite used to but particularly enjoyed. You felt like the luckiest girl alive when your night ended and he asked to schedule another date. Unbeknownst to you, he felt like the luckiest guy in the world when you immediately agreed. 

- The two of you shared your first kiss on your fourth date. It was the middle of October and the two of you were taking a long walk through the park together. He stopped to fix your scarf for you but instead of doing so right away, he paused for a moment, looking into your eyes before pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours. 

- There was no way you could turn back now, and your certainly didn't want to.  

- Tom tries his best to be professional whenever he’s out in public so he tends to limit how much he kisses or touches you. He prefers to save his affection for when you’re behind closed doors. 

- Kisses on the cheek. 

- Candlelit dinners. 

- Occasionally being walked out on when important business comes up. You don’t hold it against him, you knew what you were getting into when you started dating him, but you do wish business could pick a more convenient time to show it’s face.

- Growing close with his sister and sister in laws. You ladies have to stick together, especially when your husbands/boyfriends ditch you to do whatever it is they do when they’re with one another. 

- He loves going clothes shopping with you. He likes to sit back and watch you try things on or get fitted, it gives him the chance to admire you and wonder how he got so lucky. 

- Having a hand on the small of your back whenever you're standing beside him. He does it so much that you feel a little uncomfortable without the familiar warmth there. 

- Trips to the cinema. He’s quite fond of movies, they let him analyze things just for fun which is much less high-stakes than what he usually uses his skills for. 

- Museum dates. 

- Theater dates. You always get the most amazing seats.

- Deep discussions. He likes intellectual conversations, subjects that make him think, not just mindless small talk. He gets talked at most of the time or is busy dealing with things he can do blindfolded so being able to come home and have a genuine conversation is borderline therapeutic. 

- Fixing his hair and adjusting his clothes for him. He thinks its sweet when you fuss over him. 

- He’s an absolute gentleman, if there’s a chivalrous thing he can do then he’s going to do it; its just in his nature. 

- You’ll have whatever you want, whenever you want. Pretty much anything you ask for can be yours, within reason, of course. 

- He calls you things like “darling” and “honey”. He prefers more old school, sort of matrimonial pet names. 

- Waking up to soft kisses. 

- Tom is shrewd; he notices everything. He sees the way you look at certain things, what’s important to you, etc. He takes whatever he sees and stores it away for when he needs it; you may forget about it but he never does. 

- Having little notes left for you when he has to go off on business in the middle of the night or when you're out of the house. Even though you hate not being able to say goodbye, you do think it’s cute that he takes the time to let you know where he is. 

- Forming little routines and holiday traditions with one another. His particular favorite tradition is your yearly carriage ride through central park during the winter season. 

- He prefers quiet nights in over anything else. He’s never been one for thrills or adventure; a cup of tea, good book, and you snuggled into his side is more than enough for him. 

- A very nervous first meeting with his parents. Despite the fact that you’re scared shitless, they seem very fond of you. Vito in particular has a soft spot for you, he’s very happy that you’ll be joining the family one day. 

- Big family affairs; you certainly have to grow accustomed to Corleone parties, they’re a bit more extravagant than you’re used to.

- Family dinners. You find it touching that they want to include you in their more intimate get-togethers.

- He’s basically your shadow whenever you’re together, always sticking close and keeping an eye out for you.

- Pretty much all of the Corleone boys; which, at least to me, includes Tom, are very protective of their girls. No ones going to touch, threaten or even look at you the the wrong way if they have any say in it. And who would dare to cross a Corleone in the first place?

- He’s usually the silent kind of jealous, watching the scene with growing irritation but, for the most part, allowing you to do whatever you please. He doesn’t feel the need to be jealous all that often though. He knows that pretty much anyone in your general vicinity would intervene if the person was trying something with you. 

- He’s good at keeping his polite composure so you often don’t have any idea how he was/is feelings. All you know is his warm smile as he greets you, winding an arm around your waist. 

- Like previously stated: he’s good at keeping his composure which either helps to calm you down when you’re going through something or only makes things worse. Either way, his unfazed nature does, at some point, reassure you that things are alright even if it initially didn’t. 

- He always wants you to come to him when you have a problem or want to make a decision. He wants to be able to support you and help you through things; he hates the idea of you mulling over something stressful all by yourself. 

- You’re definitely treated a lot nicer by people; strangers watch out for you, shop owners become friendly with you, etc. It’s like the whole world’s suddenly accepted you. 

- Your parents are very happy with your choice of boyfriend/potential (well, almost guaranteed) husband. Your mother probably brags to her friends about how her daughters involved with the Corleone's Consigliere. 

- He loves coming home, pulling you close, and being enveloped by your familiar perfume. Its the perfect way for him to wind down after a long day. 

- Occasionally accompanying him on his trips. You obviously stay at the hotel while he goes off and negotiates but you don’t mind having a little bit of alone time in a lavish room. 

- You cuddle in the sweethearts cradle: your face on his chest and his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

- He seems like the type of guy who would enjoy being in the company of dogs so the two of you probably adopt one together. He takes great pleasure in calling you their mother. 

- Getting to hear all the stories from his childhood. He always gets this adorably fond look on his face whenever he’s speaking. 

- Comforting him after deaths in the family and other awful news. 

- He tries to keep you away from his business as much as possible, not wanting to upset you or potentially get you in the crossfire of something. 

- He uses a lot of flattery. Oftentimes he’ll say something sweet when he knows he’s upset or disappointed you, it slightly lessens the blow but never fixes things completely. 

- Toms a lawyer, he’s a good arguer and he’s particularly good at getting what he wants so when you're arguing its almost a sure thing that he’ll win. Not that arguments happen often. 

- He's surprisingly sensitive; certain things cut him deep, especially when they come from the people he cares about. Be kind to him; he deserves it. 

- He says “I love you” sparingly but he shows his love through his actions more than his words. 

- Obviously there’s a marriage in store for you. He’s hoping for a couple kids as well so be prepared for that. 

- You may have a bit of a chaotic life in store for you but I’m sure you wouldn’t change it for the world and neither would he. 

[scrimmification]

taking a self care day and was instantly hit with temptation so u know what. here’s that dhurkemara essay. but it’ll be under a cut because i’m polite like that

the following is some canon facts sprinkled in with mostly my own headcanons and opinions. but i’m right about everything. cw for mentions of trauma and aa6 spoilers.

i should actually start this by saying that i see a lot of polycule dhurke/amara/jove or dhurke/amara/datz and while it is cute i feel a bit weird about using a poly relationship as just a “oh he has two hands” solution to love triangles. not that poly relationships aren’t valid, but it’s usually just people putting characters together without thinking about how the dynamic would even function. as if a polycule is a band-aid solution.

but that’s not important because this essay is about why dhurke and amara should just be friends (post SOJ)

i do not respect capcom or its canon, but here’s a bunch of canonical soj facts that are kinda fucked up;      - when nahyuta is born, amara is 19 and dhurke is 20      - when the palace fire breaks out, amara is 21 and dhurke is 22      - there’s a gap of approximately 8 years of time where dhurke thinks amara is dead before they reunite and have rayfa (they’re each around the age of 30 at the time)      - there’s a period of time anywhere from 9 months - 1 year that they’re living together again before rayfa and amara are both kidnapped      - following this, dhurke never sees his wife ever again

because i have extreme brainrot, i sat down and feasibly considered the amount of time they would’ve been together. like, genuinely face to face together. if you only take into account the numbers the game gives you, then that means out of 25 years of marriage, they only see each other for about 3 of them. i tend to tack on an extra year or so for dating, but that’s still a really short amount of time, with almost all of it being before the palace fire ever happened. not to mention, they married incredibly young, and amara is royalty. typically royal families will push for children to be wed as soon as they come of age. 

there’s also the fact that canonically, dhurke was not wealthy to any degree. he mentions in a throw away line having a bunch of weird odd jobs including both farmer and street performer (side note, street performer dhurke is hilarious). considering amara was basically hailed as a goddess by virtue of existing, i kind of doubt they were childhood friends or anything before that. my own hcs for how they met and got married initially tend to fall into a romeo and juliet style of mushy romance. plucky lawyer steals the heart of the queen with his humble charm and promises to whisk her away kind of thing. idk i do actually think they were very in love when they were younger, and maybe like... TOO in love, but my essay and thoughts tend to skew towards characterization through how the two of them grow through their traumas. so let’s just go in order of events here;

the palace fire

i do not care what capcom tries to tell me, dhurke has burns. if amara has a giant chest mark from being in the fire for a very short amount of time, dhurke would have full body burns from literally breaking into and out of a burning building. do you know how hot fire is? it’s fucking hot. it’s also genuinely terrifying. my point is i hc dhurke has some form of pyrophobia.

the years after the palace fire and before rayfa is born aren’t given much canon information, but it is stated that amara is convinced dhurke was out to kill her and willingly lives in the palace outside of the public eye. she’s convinced that dhurke is evil and was trying to kill her for at least twice as long as they were married. that kind of skews your perception of a person, no matter how much you might have once loved them. even if you STILL love them, it’s different. feelings change with time, and i think that’s a really fun thing to explore in fiction. 

the rescue/rayfa’s birth

so here’s where i add the drama. just sprinkle it in. there’s a very sneaky line in the game that they kind of slip in during dhurke’s recounting of events around the time rayfa was born, and i have not stopped thinking about it for 2 years.

so plot wise, when apollo presses dhurke about lying about amara being dead, he talks about how he (somehow) got a tip that amara was alive and still being held in the palace. he broke in to save her and potentially run away with her, datz, and and nahyuta into safety, but they add something else in there. dhurke has a moment where he says she didn’t initially believe his innocence. and it’s kind of just played as a joke.

but because i like conflict and i do not write dhurke the same hyper-toxic-masculine way they do in canon because i think Men Should Be Allowed To Have Feelings i thought. man that must fucking suck. everyone in the entire kingdom thinks he’s the devil, and the one person he’s been doing it all for the sake of - his wife - initially doubts his innocence. of course this is obviously an understandable response. she was basically trapped and gaslit for nearly a full decade over an event that nearly cost her her own life (and would have to instead come to terms with the fact her own sister wanted her dead) but like it still. it would still suck to hear that from your spouse?

they were together for under a year, and in this time rayfa was born. this is probably my favorite window of time to explore a dhurke and amara relationship adapting because they would be such different people now. time already effects how you personally grow and adapt, but the kind of horrors they went to would drastically change them both. neither of them would be the same kids they fell in love with, and dhurke had just shipped one of his kids to america in an attempt to protect him. he’d already be down bad, but to have to deal with that, his wife not fully trusting him, nahyuta not knowing their own mother and most likely not trusting her initially, and also an entire pregnancy... that’d be an incredible amount of stress, on top of the fact they’re both living under the law. 

(sidebar; because of how weird they had to twist the timeline to make it so apollo was gone before rayfa was born so they never met, i tend to headcanon this as dhurke trying to send both his kids to america to protect them, but not being able to initially send nahyuta because of their royalty status, and it quickly becoming too late.)

something else that confused me was why the hell they’d even have another kid while they’re both trying to save themselves, and that... uh. okay maybe this is an unpopular thing to say in terms of headcanon, but i actually believe rayfa was an accidental birth. like logistically, if you see your wife for the first time in almost a decade, you’re going to do Something. and you don’t have protection in the mountains. i’m just. i’m just saying.

but all of that being said, more than anything, i think they’d still be in love during this point. or more accurately, i think they’d be trying to convince themselves they’re still in love. they wouldn’t be the same people anymore, but the only thing dhurke has left is his family. it’s the thing he’s fighting for, and amara would have just been told she can’t go back to her sister for her own safety. there’s this kind of pressure to stay together for both themselves and their kids. there’s also a part where dhurke implies that the two of them were planning on trying to escape khura’in together and cross country lines before shit hits the fan.

turnabout revolution

so if you’re a coward who actually considers canon, after rayfa and amara get kidnapped, dhurke never sees them again. sure, he gets spirit channeled by amara in the final trial, but he never sees her face to face, or gets a chance to speak with her. if you’re like me and simply refuse to believe your favorite characters die, then that means there’s a 14 year gap between the next time dhurke and amara speak to each other.

what’s the first thing amara does when they see each other again? accuse him of murder.

in fairness, she’s under threat of blackmail to do so. she’s trying to protect both her children at this point, and clearly had a role to play in inga’s murder herself that she doesn’t want to admit to. but at the same time, when apollo reveals that dhurke was actively hiding evidence because he still loved her, she seemed genuinely surprised. this revelation is the thing that gets her to actually go against ga’ran’s plot. there’s also the obvious point of her picking her children’s safety over dhurke’s entire revolution, and what he’s been working on for her sake for most of his life. and honestly I thinks she made the right and most understandable choice. the real part that makes me think they wouldn’t get back together after the events of soj (provided dhurke isn’t an epic ghost guy) is,

amara chooses her own safety over dhurke’s, while dhurke chooses her safety over his own.

dhurke’s a very hopeful character, a very jovial one. throughout all his screen time, there’s no point where he genuinely thinks nahyuta has betrayed him. there’s no point where he thinks apollo isn’t capable of handling the case without him. he clearly cares a lot about his family, and would do anything for them. this includes amara. he’s not asked to hide evidence for her sake, he just does it. at the risk of undermining his entire revolution and destroying it entirely, he tries to hide evidence that’d implicate his wife of murder.

amara’s more of a realist. she doesn’t give up information until she absolutely has to. she doesn’t even admit to loving dhurke until the last moment she’s on screen. the only lines in the game she has as herself are during the trial, and half the time she’s just telling everyone how horrible and awful and terrible her husband was. and again, i must say, this would probably suck to hear.

the aftermath

the country is kind of a little fucked after soj. sure, it ends on a positive note, kind of, but there’s both a lot of political stuff to fix. and a lot of family stuff to fix. dhurke basically has to rebuild his relationship with every single one of his family members (and in rayfa’s case, from scratch). while I do think marriage is important and stuff, I don’t think it’d be... the most important.

what i’m saying is i think they’d be friends. even if they stayed married, they’d have to relearn almost everything about each other. they haven’t seen each other in forever, and also amara just threw dhurke under the bus. that’d sting! i think he’d forgive her for that, but it’d sting. knowing your partner would have willingly let you and your entire cause go up in flames sucks. it all sucks. soj is a very downer aa game.

and also i value m/f friendship a lot. i value older adult relationships a lot. i value exploring unfortunate and uncomfortable themes in learning to grow as a person and dealing with your own trauma a lot. i think there’s a lot to explore in characters like dhurke and amara. alot of people prefer thinking about the relationships between nahyuta and apollo and rayfa as siblings, which is great! but... i don’t know. i really like fictional dads. i like thinking about him getting more time with his kids. i like thinking about amara learning to become a person instead of a revered goddess. i like them becoming real people instead of just figureheads in a political war.

also i think dhurke and datz should kiss because they raised kids together in the mountains for 20 years

[anythingbutmar]

Family meetings (mistake pt.2)

Diego Hargreeves x reader

Summary: After gaining information from Five you realize that the world is ending and you and Diego need a way to save the girls.

A/N: I know I covered a lot of stuff here, and I promise I’ll eventually get to the 60′s but I just think this serves for a multiparter and that’s what I plan on doing, hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: slight plot changes, teensy tiny bit of angst.

The next few days were a bit of a mess, Diego had to do a bunch of police work regarding some shootings and you gladly took the permit that your job gave you when a close relative died. You were in no way close to Reginald, but you still needed to process the fact that Five had appeared from the future rambling about stuff that Diego couldn’t understand.

After their meeting and the funeral he had told you everything he had gathered from it, which wasn’t much. “It was just a lot of nerdy words that you would have understood better than me.” He had said.

And so, now you were determined to know how the hell was he back there and why he seemed so worried all the time, you just needed to figure out what to do with your daughters, which led to where you were right now: knocking on Allison’s door, after trying with Vanya, who lived close to your place but wasn’t there, apparently.

“Hey girl, remember you owe me one from that time I covered you and Luther sneaking to Griddy’s years ago? Right, so I need you to take care of the girls for the day. Luna has some pending homework and Amber needs to take her vitamins at 2:00, okay? Have fun girls! I love you both!”

“Y/N wait, I have to-”

“I won’t take long I promise! Bye!” You yelled from the staircase.

Game on, little Five.

Your years of nightly adventures with Diego had made you quite observant, which helped a lot, since Five didn’t bother on leaving any information of his whereabouts, but you had seen him staring at what seemed to be a glass eye, and there was only one prosthetics factory near, so you gave it a shot and quelle surprise! There he was, yelling at some doctor, sweet as always.

“Oh jeez I’m so sorry! My son was severely damaged from this one time he fell from a tree and he tends to make up stories.” You interrupted, almost laughing at Five’s face. “I thought I had lost you, silly! Now let’s go.” You grabbed him by the ear with your hand heated and started leaving the room. “I apologize for his aggressive behavior! I promise you won’t ever see him again.” You stated before walking out and then poof! He was gone!

“Little shit.” You muttered before running outside where you found him standing calmly with that know-it-all smirk of his, he was rubbing his ear, which brought you huge satisfaction.

“What do you think you’re doing, Y/N?”

“What? Can’t I look after my beloved brother in law?” You batted your eyelashes and he gave you a deadpan look. “Okay, fine. I need you to tell me how you got here and why the hell do you have a fake eye?”

“And why would I do such a thing?” He asked, tapping his chin with irony.

“Because I can understand you! Your siblings may not but science is sort of my thing, I can help you.”

“Well, can you tell me how to stop the apocalypse?” He snapped.

“The what now?”

--

“The what now?” Diego repeated with a confused look.

“The apocalypse, he said we just have a few days to stop it and our only clue is a freaking eye.”

“And meanwhile Luther’s worried about a goddamned monocle.” Diego shook his head, sitting by your side on the bed. “He came by today, you know? To bring the girls and talk about that stupid thing which doesn’t matter at all, because the world’s ending anyways. The worst thing was that he kept mocking me about naming our daughter after the moon, he said it was because I missed him! I didn’t even think of that!”

“Don’t be like that honey, we’ll figure something out, for now I have an idea to make you feel bett-”

“Mommy?” Luna opened the door, rubbing her eyes. “I had a nightmare.”

“It’s ok baby, let’s go tuck you in ok?” You were about to stand before she gave you puppy eyes.

“Can I sleep with you? Just for tonight, pleaaaaase!” You looked at Diego and instantly knew. He could never resist his older daughter’s puppy eyes.

“Alright, come here, what was it about anyways?” You asked as she climbed on the bed, laying between you two.

“I can’t remember well, I think there was a big boom and suddenly everyone was gone! The whole planet was gone!” She made a gesture with her tiny hands and you shared a wide eyed look with Diego. So far, Luna hadn’t shown any signs of an ability, but how could she know about something that hadn’t happened yet?

You refilled your glass of water with your power before taking a large sip and passing it to your husband, who was caressing your daughter’s sleeping face in shock.

“Are you think-”

“Mommy? Luna scared me.” Amber entered your room and without even asking climbed on your bed and laid on Diego’s chest, immediately closing her eyes at the feeling of her dad’s heartbeat.

“I guess it’s sleepover night then.” He chuckled.

--

Next morning Diego gave you all a kiss on the forehead and left you a note saying he had to work early because there was another shooting at the mall, leaving you to have an all girls morning, which excited you to no end. You loved Diego more than you could ever possibly say, but you also loved having your own time with the kids, who loved it just as much.

You turned the radio on and started preparing pancakes for the three of you, flinching slightly in disgust at the thought of Diego’s favorite breakfast: a raw egg. You never understood him avoiding the possibility of a warm tasty meal, in reality, you never agreed much in terms of habits. For example, you enjoyed drinking sometimes, as you had discovered during that fateful night when you were younger, but he wasn’t bothered by it, and neither were you about his healthy way of living, at least most of the time.

And so, you were having a peaceful breakfast, occasionally laughing at Amber’s syrup stained cheeks, when Klaus knocked on the door looking... much like Klaus.

“Hey Y/N/N! Isn’t it hilarious that you married Diego but somehow we both ended up being Five’s hypothetical parents in the eyes of a corrupt doctor?!” He laughed, entering your place and admiring the decorations. “Anyways, hello there my girlies! It’s time for a family meeting!” He sang, making them laugh.

“A family meeting?” You asked, picking up the plates.

“Urgent matter, according to Luther, could be about his newfound muscle for all I care about, but he wants us all there so let’s go baby!” He whispered so his nieces wouldn’t hear him.

“Alright, just let me get ready.”

--

You arrived at the house and left the girls with Pogo, who started showing them around the greatest places, according to him, and entered the living room with Klaus.

“You’re a bit late, babe.” Diego simply stated gesturing towards everyone’s bored faces.

“Oh, Y/N “just had to get ready.”“ Klaus mocked you, already pouring himself a drink.

“Yeah well, time runs differently when you have kids, buddy.” You said, receiving a glass yourself.

“It so does.” Allison clinked her glass against yours smiling.

After that, Luther showed you a video of Grace and Reginald at the moment of his death, which was followed by a discussion about her state in which you obviously refused to turn her off, she was the closest thing you had to a mother and you would not give up on her, specially knowing how much she meant to Diego and how much Luna and Amber had loved her.

You chose to wait for Five and Diego left to talk to Grace. You were going to follow him but you realized that it was a private matter, and stayed with Vanya, who was the only one left.

“Want one?” You offered and she politely declined. “Alright then, who’s this Leonard?”

“I’m gonna kill Allison.” She turned red and covered her face with her hands.

“Come on Vanya! I might not be your sister but we had our time together too! And besides, I’m a great listener.” You smiled patting the couch, and she finally nodded and sat down. Truthfully, it didn’t take that much to convince Vanya to do something, just a few kind words, which mostly everyone lacked towards her.

And so, the evening went by with both of you laughing at her new crush and remembering past times. You and Vanya had spent many hours together on the academy because for some time she and Grace were tasked with training you because Reginald was too busy with the others, who were on a much more advanced level than you, and so, she kept you running around the staircases and growing plants in the garden. According to Reginald, you could use them as weapons, but you two just thought they were pretty.

In the end the old man was right, you were going to need those damned plants to defend yourself.

After hearing gunshots you saw as the love your life fell right on the couch where you and Vanya had been sitting on.

“Get down!” He whispered and you obeyed, taking Vanya with you. “The girls Y/N, where are they?”

“They’re in Pogo’s room. How many of them?” You asked back, putting your arm around Vanya in a protective matter.

“Just two.”

And right as he said so they entered the room shooting all around until Luther and Allison started fighting them. You stood and saw a large man and a smaller armed woman. Diego and Allison got busy with the guy and you hurried Vanya to a safe corner.

“Stay here!” You told her before running towards the others. They were arguing, for a change and then the couple started shooting again. Diego and Allison ran towards a different direction and you stayed as you noticed the man was now reaching towards Vanya.

“I don’t think so, big man.” You broke the window with a tree branch from the backyard and snatched his weapon with it before kicking him on the stomach, which was completely useless, the guy was huge.

Luckily, Luther appeared which allowed you to go get Vanya. You were about to run with her towards Pogo’s room but you heard screaming, and you looked just as a giant chandelier was about to fall on Luther. You tried to push it with wind but you weren’t fast enough.

Thanks to his strength he was able to lift himself up, revealing his inhumanly hairy chest and arms, a secret well hidden until that moment. Allison tried consoling him but he ran from her. It didn’t matter, you didn’t have time for that.

“I’ll go get them, don’t worry, you go check up on your mom and we’ll meet back home, ok?” You grabbed Diego’s shoulders and he silently nodded, running upstairs.

After making sure there were no scratches on them, you explained what had happened, to which they stopped crying because they both loved a good superhero story. You took both their hands and went home, happy to be in a safe place but with a terrible feeling in your gut, as if you had forgotten something.

You waited up for Diego, who arrived an hour later looking destroyed. “I had to d-do it, s-s-she was already g-gone.” And you understood perfectly, so you cuddled him all night, even though neither of you could sleep. Those guys were still out there, Grace was dead, Five was nowhere to be found and you still felt like something was missing.

Or someone.

“Klaus!” You exclaimed, startling your tired husband.

(Part one here)

Taglist:

@ alexander-hamilhoe

[rochiomaru]

Healing Wounds

Doflamingo had not left Law’s side since they had boarded the Numancia a couple of weeks prior, after having left Minion Island. He religiously sat next to the boy and watched as the teen took slow and labored breaths in the darkened cabin that had been turned into a makeshift sick bay. From the time he could remember, the pirate had been told he was descended from gods, and his crew further perpetuated that belief by telling him he was meant to rule as a god and a king in this life. He had spent the last 15 years building a life, scheming plots, pulling strings to bring that plan to fruition so that they could all rule the world and watch everything burn that stood in the way of his dreams.

Now as he watched a pale boy fight for life, for the first time since he was eight years old, Doflamingo knew he would give everything in exchange for the soul lying on the bed in front of him. He reached over and gently pushed back the dark hair from the boy’s eyes and couldn’t help but to notice how very small Law’s face looked compared to his hands. He wondered if Law saw him as the same monster his brother claimed he was when he looked at those hands? Those giant hands had taken too many lives to count, after all. Perhaps Law wanted nothing to do with him and would never return to this side of the veil.

The blond frowned and shook those disturbing thoughts from his mind. Law knew what Doflamingo was when he came to him, yet the boy had still sought him out.

“He won’t obey you, Doffy. He’s not the same Law that came to you that day, who lost track of himself and came to visit a crazy pirate!” 

Again the words his brother had spoken in their final meeting began to run through his mind, causing the man to pull his hand back from Law and grab his blond locks in a desperate attempt to quiet his mind. The words continued to repeat themselves over and over until he truly thought he may become nothing but what he was already accused of being. ‘Is this all I am?’ he moaned inwardly as he rocked forward to place his head on his knees, ‘just a crazy pirate that no one will ever love?’

He could almost feel his brother’s brown eyes filled with hatred upon him, burning him, accusing him. When Doflamingo could stand it no longer, he stood suddenly, causing his chair to tip backwards and fall on its side. He stood there gasping for breath, feeling the blood rushing through his veins and hearing his pulse thunder in his ears, but at least it drowned the sound of his brother’s voice; for the moment anyway.

There was a knock at the door that broke through the spiral of thoughts that overwhelmed the pirate. Doflamingo’s head whipped towards the sound, and he bit his lip in concentration while attempting to bring himself back into the moment, and away from the tortuous memories of Minion Island. Though some part of him was grateful to have been interrupted, another was irritated that Law’s rest would be hindered. The blond knew that after such injuries, he needed time to heal properly. 

Doflamingo narrowed his eyes behind rose lenses while watching the door and attempting to calm his ragged breathing for a few moments more, when the knocking came again along with Vergo’s familiar voice.“Doffy? Are you awake? It’s time for dinner. I brought you food.” 

He sighed and closed his eyes in a weary gesture. It had been the same motions for days now. Someone would come and try to coax him out of the room, but he would not go. Doflamingo explained to them why he was staying by Law’s bedside, but yet his crew continued to send Vergo or one of the other executives to the door. Yet, how could he leave the boy when he so obviously needed him? He had let the boy go once, and it led to the current situation. In his eyes, he had failed to protect one of his own, and now the boy may not come back to him at all. This is simply unacceptable, and what kind of father would Doflamingo be if he abandoned his son again?

He opened his eyes, lifted his slender fingers and reached underneath the golden frames to rub the tiredness from them. Though the action did not truly help, it did soothe the man somewhat as he considered the other matter that had him keeping himself isolated from his crew, from his family.  This was the situation of Vergo’s betrayal. 

If there was one thing he would not tolerate, it was someone touching something that was his. However, the real problem lay in that Vergo was closer than anyone else in Doflamingo's life. They had been together since they were ten years old, through every trial and triumph. Doflamingo considered him a brother, more so than Rosinante had ever been. Perhaps that’s why it hurt so much to look at the dark bruises and swollen flesh on Law’s face, and to know that his closest friend had been the one to put such marks there. He simply was not ready to confront Vergo yet. Not until he knew whether or not his son was going to survive.

The knocking came again with Vergo's voice, only this time he was much louder, bordering on yelling. “I’m not leaving this time, Doffy! Not until you eat this food.” All of Doflamingo’s movement ceased at the sound of those words. Never had Vergo used such a tone with him, and it was more than a little shocking to hear him do so now. After a moment, Vergo’s voice came again more softly, “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

Doflamingo chewed on his bottom lip while looking at the closed door, and then to the boy lying deathly still on the bed next to where he stood. He slowly reached over and gently ran his fingers along a healing bruise on Law’s cheek, taking note that he didn’t feel as feverishly hot as he had previously. Perhaps this is a sign things are turning for the better. The blond came to a decision. No more hiding from his problems.

He straightened up and squared his broad shoulders, taking time to look at himself in the vanity at the bedside. He ran his fingers through his mussed hair and tried to pat down any wrinkles he noticed on his shirt. Unfortunately, he had discarded his tie days ago and had no clue where it had gone, and as he leaned forward to get a closer look at his face, he grimaced. The sunglasses did a fair job in covering the bags under his eyes, but he hadn’t shaved since before leaving Spider Miles. He knew he looked bad, but hadn’t realized how far he had let himself go.

‘Well, nothing I can do about it now,’ he thought to himself with a frown. Instead, Doflamingo lifted his chin and placed a carefully blank look on his face before heading to open the door. He is going to be a king, and be damned if anyone would dare think otherwise, no matter the circumstances. 

As he reached for the knob, Doflamingo felt a slight tremble to his movement. He closed his eyes, clenched his hand a couple times to steele his nerves, and let out a breath to prepare himself to face his best friend over the mistreatment of his son. Again, he put his hand out and took hold of the door handle. In a quick movement, he flung the door open wide, revealing a startled Vergo on the other side. However, despite his preparation, the anger he felt when he saw the man nearly overwhelmed him.

“D..D..Doffy!” Vergo stuttered. He had meant what he said about not leaving until the young master spoke to him, but it still surprised him that Doflamingo had agreed so swiftly. He managed to hold on to the tray he had brought, but the dishes rattled as the brunet struggled to compose himself as he could feel the taller man’s fixated gaze upon him. True that this is what he had wanted, but with the confrontation upon him, all of Vergo’s well-rehearsed lines and speeches simply disappeared from his mind.

Once he had the tray settled firmly in his grasp once again, Vergo looked up at his captain and had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from verbally reacting at Doflamingo’s appearance. The man looked as though he had lost a good twenty pounds, and his normally vibrant, tan skin was pale and sallow. He looked so very tired, and about fifteen years older than he really was. Vergo swallowed back the impulse to confront Doflamingo about his appearance, and the heavy layer of guilt that had been laying on him for the last several days, now felt as though it would suffocate him. He knew was as much to blame for his captain… his friend being in this state as the traitor was. Though it was not an excuse, Vergo had not realized how much Law meant to the other.

Doflamingo continued to stare down at the shorter male, but stepped back to allow him inside the room. Vergo moved past him quickly, unsure of what to do next, so he busied himself with setting the tray down on the small table in the corner. He could feel his captain’s eyes on him expectantly, but stalled by arranging the dishes on the table. After a couple of minutes of nervous fidgeting with the items, Vergo heard Doflamingo clear his throat. His time had come, so he sighed softly and shifted to face the larger man.

When he turned, immediately a large hand took him by the throat and swung him around as though his massive frame weighed nothing, slamming him against the wall. The air was forced from his lungs and his head cracked against the wood, making him see stars and feeling like he might vomit. Vergo's head rolled bonelessly as he tried to gather his senses, slowly he came to himself as he realized the hand at his throat was tightening, cutting off his ability to breathe.

Vergo reached up and grabbed at the hand and desperately began pulling at it to try and break free, but it was pointless. He quickly found he was not a match for Doflamingo. “Dof.. I… can...ca..” he tried to beg for his release, but could only stutter out hoarse syllables. He looked into the face of the man that held him up to the wall, and for all the aggression, only saw a blank face and his own reflection in rose-tinted sunglasses. Vergo continued to struggle when he saw something that stunned him into complete stillness. A lone drop of moisture rolled down Doflamingo’s cheek. It could almost be mistaken for sweat, but somehow, Vergo knew that was not the case.

He dropped his hands and accepted his fate. He had done this, and whatever punishment his captain felt was necessary, Vergo would accept. As darkness began to close in the edge of his vision, he knew he needed to let Doflamingo know one thing. “I… I’m… s… sor… ry,” he managed to whisper out. Doflamingo cocked his head to the side and brought Vergo close to his face. Everything began to double and get fuzzy for Vergo, so he closed his eyes, when he felt himself being thrown to the floor.

Vergo gasped and curled in on himself, trying to draw as much air into his burning lungs as he could. He began to cough and retch, but was grateful as his vision began to clear. He was only granted a few moments when his body was forced flat to the floor and he found himself on his back, looking at the ceiling, unable to move. He instantly knew Doflamingo was using his strings to keep him still. Before he could attempt to form any words, the blond was sitting on his chest and leaned down until they were nose to nose.

“Vergo, what made you think you could lay a hand on what was mine? You, more than anyone, should know how I feel about my family.” Doflamingo’s face remained eerily blank as he spoke. It was a stark contrast to the deep, angry tone of his words that betrayed how much emotion he was feeling over this incident. Doflamingo knew he was not ready for this conversation, but being left alone with his thoughts for too long had let his rage go unchecked. H cared deeply for Vergo, as he was family too, so he was doing everything he could not to lose control.

He raised his face away from the man beneath him and continued to watch him attempt to catch his breath. The red marks on his neck were beginning to fill in with purple bruises in the shape of Doflamingo’s fingers, and a frown broke through his blank exterior at the sight. However, he did not regret it. Vergo needed to realize how serious this was, but the blond knew if he had used his strings, he may have killed the other man since he was still too upset over Law’s condition. 

While he continued to stare at the rising bruises on his friend’s neck, the other attempted to speak, “Dof… fy, I…” His voice was raspy and raw, but the emotion in his tone was overwhelming for the blond to hear. Doflamingo could not bear it and the dam holding all of his own emotions back finally broke. Anger, fear, regret, loneliness, pain, and other things the man could not put name to swirled in his chest, causing physical pain that made him feel sick to his stomach. The veins on Doflamingo’s forehead began pulsating and he clenched his teeth to the point he could hear his jaw grinding and the bones popping. A fierce heat filled his eyes and he tried to draw a deep breath in, but found it difficult due to the pain filling his chest.

As the first tears slipped past the golden frames of his sunglasses, Doflamingo pulled his fist back and slammed it into Vergo’s cheek. “You do not get to speak right now!” he roared as he pulled back his other fist to strike him again. “My biological family is gone forever! All I have is the family I have found, and you have tried to take a piece of that from me!” The tears were pouring down Doflamingo’s face by this time and dropping onto Vergo’s throat as the larger man continued to unleash blow after blow against him.

As the blood began to pour from Vergo’s nose, the corner of his mouth, and a deep gash under his right eye, Doflamingo forced himself to stop. He clenched his fists and sat up on the man’s chest, rubbing the tears off his face, but leaving some blood behind in their stead. 

Vergo closed his eyes and groaned softly, but he accepted his punishment, knowing he had done far more damage to the thirteen year old child lying in the bed across the room. Several moments passed in silence when he opened his eyes again and saw Doflamingo with his head resting in hands, fingers laced together, blocking any view the man might have of the other’s face. Vergo wanted to ask him if he was ok, but he knew the answer already, and the worst part was he was to blame for his friend’s condition. He caused Doffy’s pain. Everything in Vergo wanted to tell Doffy how sorry he was, but he had already been told not to speak, so he waited until the other was ready to talk.

Finally, without moving his hands, Doflamingo asked in a tired voice, “Do you remember that time I skinned my knee?” The question was so unexpected, that at first Vergo thought he had misheard what was asked of him.

“Doffy, I… I don’t understand,” he began, but Doflamingo’s deep sigh stopped him.

“Do not make me repeat myself, Vergo,” his voice sounded vaguely threatening, but more than anything, he sounded exhausted.

Vergo swallowed thickly and tried to gather his thoughts. “You mean when we were ten? Yeah, I remember that. I thought some of those town kids had screwed with you again since you were such a shrimp, but it turns out you were just clumsy.” He smirked up at his captain, but quickly flinched because of the pain that shot through his swollen lip.

Doflamingo dropped his hands and looked at Vergo, not having expected to be teased at a moment like this. Despite himself, a small grin broke out on his face, until he saw the look of pain on his friend’s face. He bit his lip and reached down to gently wipe away some drying blood from the corner of Vergo’s mouth. “You look like shit,” he offered casually before continuing the previous conversation. “And, yes, I mean the time when we were ten. The stones were uneven and I fell, but that was not really my point. I meant when you and the others saw I was hurt, it didn’t matter what had caused it, you had my back.”

Vergo nodded. “Of course, Doffy. Fuck that town, it was gonna burn.”

Doflamingo suddenly dipped down until their faces were within a couple of inches of each other. “Yes! That is what it means to be family!” He pulled back and looked over to the bed while pointing at Law. “That is what it needs to be for him! For all of them! Law, Baby 5, Buffalo, they are all my children and part of this family. We need to protect them, even if we have to burn the world, Vergo!” The blond brought his hand back down to rest on Vergo’s shoulder and looked into his face. “I need your loyalty to the Family, and to him, as he is my son and is going to be my right hand one day. For obvious reasons, your cover with the marines has been compromised, so I want you home. I want you back as my Corazon, but I have to know you have my back.”

Vergo could feel his face getting hot from the feelings that were starting to overwhelm him. He truly thought that he had forever thrown away any chance he had of being valued by Doflamingo again, for he knew how his actions were viewed. The bruises and blood on his face and neck were testament to that. But to actually be offered his position as an Executive again was more than he would have ever dared to hope for, and for something that he was already planning to give with his whole heart. He knew he owed this man his life, so this was not really a decision at all.

“Yes, Doffy! It will never happen again, and I pledge my very life to you and to the Family. I would die for you, and I will protect him with my life, as well. You have my word!” he proclaimed.

For the first time in weeks, a genuine smile appeared on Doflamingo’s face as he stood up. Vergo found that he could move again and when he looked up, he saw his captain’s hand reaching down to help him stand. Without hesitation, the brunet took the proffered hand and stood to his feet. Doflamingo gently shoved him in the direction of the vanity. “Go clean yourself up. I really meant what I said earlier about how you look. There’s some water and a clean towel.”

Vergo looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not sure you are one to talk, Captain. Perhaps you should visit the bath after eating your meal. I can watch the boy for 20 minutes while you clean up.”

“Fufufufu… You certainly are one for tempting the gods tonight, aren’t you Vergo?” Doflamingo cooed at the smaller male without any real malice in his words. He headed towards the table that held the meal that had been set there earlier and removed the covers from the dishes and noted some of his favorite foods were there and wondered if they had sent these same things every time in hope he would eat. He felt guilty that his family had been worried about his health in such a way, but all he had been able to focus on was Law the last two weeks, and he couldn’t change that now.

It was then he heard a moan coming from next to where Vergo was drying his face. Doflamingo immediately dropped the silver lid, causing it to crash into a plate, but fortunately the food softened the landing and no harm was done. He ran over to the bedside, pushing Vergo to the side. Since he had not been practicing his usual grooming and styling regiments, Doflamingo’s blond hair fell into his eyes as he leaned over the bed, but he impatiently pushed it back out of the way to get a look at Law stirring in the sheets.

Law moaned again and slowly raised his hand up to his face to rub at his eyes. His head was hurting and his right shoulder was stiff and hurt really badly. Slowly he opened his golden eyes and saw a thin blond man leaning over him, but his vision was very blurry. He blinked a couple of times to clear it and the face came into view. Blonde bangs and angular features. Why was Cora-san wearing Doffy’s sunglasses? Wouldn’t his brother be mad? “Cora-san?” he whispered.

Doflamingo’s stomach felt like he had been kicked when the child mistook him for that traitor. ‘Does he love him so much?’ he wondered to himself. However, he would not reveal his true emotions to Law, instead he reached over and took the child’s hand. “No, it’s Doffy. Rosinante went back to the navy. He was lying to us, remember? You are home with your family. We’ve been very worried about you.”

Law looked confused for a few moments and then his face dropped and he closed his eyes. Everything came back to him and a tear rolled down his cheek before he could get a hold of himself. Doflamingo reached over and wiped it gently away and brushed his dark hair back from his forehead.

“You are here with your family and we need you, Law. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to keep you safe, but it will not happen again. I promise to always protect you.” Doflamingo was not used to being so emotional. His mother was the last person he had ever been this open with, but somehow it felt like the right thing to do. Still it was very uncomfortable not knowing if this child would still choose his brother over him, ‘after all I am a monster… A crazy pirate that no one could love.’

When Law turned back to him with a faint smile, Doflamingo felt his breath catch for a moment. “Thank you for letting Cora-San live. I will stay, but tell Baby 5 to quit hitting me.” he then closed his eyes and drifted back into a light sleep.

Doflamingo smiled softly at the boy. “Of course,” he responded, though he knew Law could not hear him. He turned to Vergo and instructed him to go get the boy some soup and onigiri for when he woke again. He would need sustenance if he was to recover properly, after all.

He then gathered some clothes so he could take a long overdue bath and clean up. First, however, Doflamingo went to find Giolla. As he ran his fingers through his blond hair, he couldn’t help but to think a haircut would be an excellent idea. He always did think he would look amazing with very short hair.

[ibijau]

Nobody really asked for it, but time for more de-aged LXC trying to figure out what the fuck happened to him!

This and previous instalments are also on AO3

Lan Xichen opens the door, expecting his uncle, or better yet his brother. Instead he finds himself face to face with a stranger dressed in black and red, smiling in a conspiratorial manner that promises nothing good.

“Zewu-Jun, won't you invite me in?”

The man doesn't look surprised by his youth, meaning he knew to expect it. Only four people know, though: Lan Qiren who discovered him, Nie Huaisang who found out, Lan Wangji who was told, and presumably Lan Wangji's husband. Lan Xichen doesn't think his uncle or brother would tell anyone. He trusts Nie Huaisang to have kept the secret as well. The weak link, then, is this Wei Wuxian who Lan Qiren dislikes so much and thus forbade Lan Xichen from seeing. Could Wei Wuxian have told someone? Lan Xichen understands that his brother-in-law dabbles in unconventional means of cultivation, perhaps he felt one his colleagues might know how to handle his current state? But then why not...

“Ah, right, you wouldn't recognise me!” the stranger laughs. “We make quite a pair here, Zewu-Jun. I'm Wei Wuxian.”

“You're not!” Lan Xichen protests, shocked by the nerve of that man. “I've met Wei Wuxian. Even accounting for the passing of time, you look nothing like him.”

The man only laughs harder. Something about it startles Lan Xichen. The face and body are wrong, even the voice is, but the mannerism, the manner of laughing are...

“Right, right, funny story there, it's me but the body isn't mine,” the man explains with a too cheerful grin. “So Lan Zhan really didn't tell you, eh? Even after so long, if his uncle says something, he's still likely to listen. Anyway, why don't you let me in before someone sees that I'm here? I thought we could have a little chat, you and me. I bet you've got questions and fancy that, I think I have answers.”

Lan Xichen hesitates to call Shuoyue to him to chase away this intruder. It's what he should do, what his uncle would want him to do.

But it's been three months now, and Lan Xichen is starting to fear that he will never return to being the man he had grown into. A pity, a shame, a blessing, he doesn't know. But that's how things are, and if this man really has answers...

Lan Xichen steps aside, silently inviting the man to come in. The stranger saunters inside, letting Lan Xichen close the door behind him. He really does move like Wei Wuxian, it's uncanny.

“So, let's do this,” the man says, sitting at the table and taking out a jar of wine from his sleeve.

Lan Xichen half wants to laugh. This really must be Wei Wuxian, then. He's never met anyone else shameless enough to drink so openly inside the Cloud Recesses. He sits down opposite his... his brother-in-law, apparently.

“You're a clever man,” Wei Wuxian says, opening his jar. “And as I remember, you were pretty sharp as a boy too. They've been careful around you, but I'm sure you must have guessed a few things already. Do you want to tell me what you think you know?”

Lan Xichen nods.

“I know there was a war. I think it was against the Wens, but that's just an educated guess. We've been fearing open conflict with them since before my birth. My father died shortly before that war, or during it, and I became sect leader in his place. I think I was still young.”

“You weren't quite twenty yet,” Wei Wuxian confirms.

Lan Xichen startles. That's too close, that's too soon. He's just eighteen now, how could he become a war leader in less than a year?

“After the war, I don't really know what happened,” Lan Xichen confesses, still shaken by how young he rose to power (will rise to power). “But my brother doesn't trust me anymore, and I'm not sure I'm friend with Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang either.”

Brother would not have approved, Lan Wangji said about the marriage that appears to make him happier than anything in the world.

You can find better friends than me, Nie Huaisang had muttered, refusing to look at him.

“Wangji and Nie Huaisang say I don't grow into a bad man,” Lan Xichen whispers. “But I wonder if they're both lying to spare me.”

Wei Wuxian shrugs, and takes a sip of wine.

“What's good, what's bad?” he asks. “From what I can tell, you did what you thought was right. You've trusted all the wrong people and you've been blind to things that should have alerted you, but you weren't the only one to be fooled so I don't suppose you can be blamed. Still, even if you're not bad yourself, there are some who'll say in allowing evil to reign, you're tainted by it.”

Lan Xichen has to close his eyes and take a deep breath. It's not what he wanted to hear, but it feels more sincere than Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang's attempts to comfort him. Lan Xichen thinks he likes Wei Wuxian.

“What evil did I protect, then?” he asks. “Will you tell me this much?”

“It's a long story,” Wei Wuxian sighs, glancing at the window. It's still early afternoon. “You won't like most of it, Zewu-Jun. But I've learned the hard way that secrets can tear apart a family and you know what? I'm tired of seeing Lan Zhan hurting over something he can't control. If he can't tell you, I will.”

And so, he does.

It is a painful, convoluted story of war, friendship, betrayal and power. Wei Wuxian is mercilessly honest about it all. He admits to his own fault, just as he denounces those of others. Lan Xichen is made uncomfortable when he hears some of the decision he's made (will make), though the worst part is that he understands why he chose (will choose) this. If Jin Guangshan said those prisoners were treated humanly, how could he not believe his elder? If Wei Wuxian killed people in so ruthless a manner, in such great numbers, how could he not join the effort to take him down before he striked again? If Lan Wangji betrayed his own sect...

Lan Xichen cries at hearing that his brother chose to stand against them, at the news of thirty-three strikes of the discipline whips. He knows the history of Gusu Lan, knows how traitors are to be treated. He hopes his brother understood (will understand) that this was the most merciful punishment he could get away with.

He cries again when he hears that Nie Mingjue has died. His best friend, his oldest friend, his confidant, the person he trusted above all others.

He doesn't understand when Wei Wuxian tells him that he unknowingly sided (will side) with Nie Mingjue's murderer, but Wei Wuxian himself is surprisingly kind about it.

“Jin Guangyao was good at being what people needed him to be. There's little shame in having been fooled by him when he fooled so many. Even I couldn't quite believe it when I first realised that he was involved. There's just one person who saw right through him.”

Lan Xichen gasps.

We all lied to you.

“Nie Huaisang?”

Wei Wuxian nods, and continues his tale, but it makes no sense.

Nie Huaisang isn't like this. He's a sweet boy who smiles and laughs easily, who pretends to cower before his brother but stubbornly does as he pleases, knowing Nie Mingjue adores him too much to punish him. He's friendly and open and honest. He's not someone who lies and hides and plots in the dark. He's not someone who pretends to be people's friends only so he can better stab them in the back when the chance comes.

The way everyone else changed... that makes sense. He can imagine Lan Wangji going too far for love. He can see Nie Mingjue becoming inflexible in his vision of justice. Even for himself, he's always been the sort to try to please everyone, so it's no surprise that he became that man who sided with whoever seemed to promise peace. But Nie Huaisang? Nie Huaisang never gave any sign that he was anything but lovely and a little silly, how could this have happened?

“It's hard, losing the person who took care of you,” Wei Wuxian notes in a voice fraught with barely contained pain. “It can break you. I certainly did for me. And when something is broken, you have to be careful or the shards of it will cut even those trying to help.”

Wei Wuxian means himself and Lan Wangji.

He might mean Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen, also.

Lan Xichen can feel a headache coming. He cried too much, and he learned too much, it feels like his skull is trying to collapse onto itself to block all this. He half regrets giving in to curiosity, but mostly he's glad he did.

Now he knows.

Now he understands.

It's not cowardice that pushed the man he became to do this to himself. He doesn't think that man really regretted those choices, not even the wrong one because they were made in good faith, and from a sincere heart, with what information he had.

Still, they were wrong choices, and they alienated him from just about everyone he ever cared for. These earnest, honest choices killed Nie Mingjue, they made his brother fear his happiness would be resented, they turned Nie Huaisang into a cruel and lonely man.

The man he became didn't want to forget, Lan Xichen thinks. He just wanted a chance for new choices, unburdened by the old ones, and he wasn't sure to deserve that chance as he was.

“That's the whole story,” Wei Wuxian says, oddly gentle now. “That's everything that happened, at least the parts that I know. There's got to be more, but I wasn't there for it, obviously. If you want more details, you'll have to ask someone else.”

Lan Xichen nods, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

“Thank you for this, Wei gongzi. And thank you for...” he hesitates, and sighs. “Thank you for making my brother happy now, even if apparently it wasn't always so. I can't really judge the past, but I can see the present, and I like the way he smiles when he speaks about you.”

I like the way you smile when you think of him too, Lan Xichen decides as Wei Wuxian's face illuminates with a grin. He doesn't think the man he became could see this without resentment, but he can, and he's glad for it. He's glad he can rejoice in his brother's happiness and not feel the weight of twenty years of hardship spoiling it.

“Thank you as well, Zewu-Jun,” Wei Wuxian says. “That means a lot to me. I'll let you be now, you'll probably want a moment to digest all this, eh? Sorry for dumping it on you all at once, but... like I said, secrets break families. I've seen it once, I'm not seeing it twice.”

Lan Xichen nods. He feels tired, and the headache is there, unpleasantly insistent. He walks Wei Wuxian back to the door, makes him promise to come again, maybe with Lan Wangji next time. It seems to make Wei Wuxian genuinely happy, for which Lan Xichen is glad. He thinks they'll get along, the two of them. How could he not get along with someone who loves Lan Wangji this much?

Once Wei Wuxian is gone, Lan Xichen prepares some tea. It helps with the headache, and gives him time to think.

At dinner time, his uncle comes by to bring him food and give him news. There's no progress on a cure, partly because Lan Qiren still doesn't know how this happened. He still refuses to say what they both know: that Lan Xichen did this to himself. Lan Qiren is a man who can live with his choices, who can take loneliness if it is the price of righteousness, so of course he cannot understand what his nephew did. Lan Xichen doesn't tell him about Wei Wuxian's visit, and he doesn't tell him what he realised about this choice his future self made.

When he is alone again, Lan Xichen ponders what to do, now that he knows why he's here, why he's like this.

A chance for new choices.

He grabs some paper and prepares some ink. In carefully chosen words, he explains his newest choice, so his uncle and brother will not worry. They still will, of course, because they love him, and he's sorry because he loves them as well, but this can't be helped. It is something he must do.

He leaves his letter on the table, propped against a cup so that it cannot be ignored by anyone coming inside, and exits the house. In the near darkness of the rising night, it's easy to move undetected. It is easy, also, to avoid the disciples who patrol the Cloud Recesses so make sure everybody respects the curfew. He almost laughs as he jumps over the wall, elated by his own daring.

He doubts the man he'd have become would have tried to sneak out like this, partly because he can hardly believe he's doing it himself. But this too is a choice, and so is hopping on Shuoyue and turning it Northwest, toward Qinghe.

It's time for new choices.

Maybe Lan Xichen will regret those as much as he ended up regretting the others, but he won't know until he tries.

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 4: Commitment

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~3900

Rating: PG-13 (brief language)

Summary: Two and a half hours since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Drake paced along the gravel at the side of the road, glancing over at Riley frequently. She was hunched into the back of the town car, the back door left open as she used the back seat as a makeshift changing table. 

He felt sick to his stomach. Everything was going wrong. He was surprised he hadn’t thrown up, to be honest. Olivia’s warning made everything ten times more real. And things had already felt pretty damn real.

They were a dozen or so kilometers into Greece, but he wanted to go back to Cordonia. Getting charged with treason… the thought was so upsetting. And yeah, he wanted to be there to support Liam through this crisis, too. If they all worked together, they could stop the coup and stop the threat of Bridget being taken from them at the same time. But Riley didn’t want to hear any discussion of turning around and returning from Greece. The second he’d mentioned needing to make a decision after Olivia had hung up the phone, she’d gotten defensive. Raised her voice. Told him he never should have come along if he was just going to change his mind, because her plan was final.

They hadn’t been screaming or anything, but they’d both gotten loud enough to wake Bridget, and she’d started doing enough screaming for their entire family. She was hungry, antsy, and probably a bit crabby from sensing their frustration with each other. After several minutes of her wailing, Ray had pulled over to the side of the road and rolled down the privacy divider. He’d offered to walk into the nearest town, which was only about a kilometer away, to pick up a couple of bottles of water so that they could prepare Bridget some formula, as well as some dinner for the three adults. Drake suspected he also was trying to give them some privacy as they discussed next steps. He had to have heard Riley and him getting louder with each other. It’s not like the divider was completely soundproof.

But instead of having the conversation they needed to have, Riley was essentially giving him the silent treatment at this point. She’d taken Bridget from him when he ducked behind some bushes to relieve himself, and since he’d returned, she hadn’t said a word to him. He was at a loss as to how to handle it. He knew she was panicking. He knew she was terrified. He knew she was just focused on keeping Bridget safe. But she wasn’t thinking clearly. And if he couldn’t make her see that, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

After a few moments, Riley scooped up Bridget, tucking her against her hip as she stood up, stretching her back and twisting her neck from side to side. Drake knew he had to broach the topic again.

“Look, Riley, I know you-”

“Drake, I do not want to hear this. I told you already - Bridget and I are not setting foot on Cordonian soil until we have confirmation that no one is scheming to take her.”

Drake ran a hand over his face as he let out a massive sigh. He’d never struggled this much to get through to her before. Even in those early days, when most of their conversations were all snark without any underlying friendship or affection, he’d always felt like she was at least willing to hear him out, even if she’d thought his warnings had been over dramatic. It’s weird how he was now the one arguing the opposite position, trying to convince her to put her faith in at least some of the Cordonian nobility.

“Riley, can you at least explain to me why Olivia’s plan is something you won’t even consider?”

She shot him an annoyed glare and rolled her eyes, but then she said, “If Barthelemy takes over Cordonia, Olivia is not going to be able to protect us. How can you not understand this?”

“Olivia will still be the Duchess of Lythikos, no matter who is acting as monarch. If she wants to offer us amnesty there, that is well within her capabilities.”

“But how do we know that she will be allowed to keep that title? Don’t Cordonian monarchs have the power to strip nobles of their titles if there is suspected criminal activity?”

“What are you talking about? How is Olivia a criminal?”

“I’m pretty sure aiding and abetting traitors and kidnappers is a fucking crime, Drake.”

“But Riley, we’re only going to be charged with those crimes if we flee the country. Or I guess if they figure out we fled the country at this point. If we go back now-”

“Yeah, I’m sure Barthelemy will just accept us keeping physical custody of Bridget if we go hang out in Lythikos. No way we can get charged with kidnapping her there if he decides he wants to take her and we say “no,” because being on Cordonian soil will magically protect us.”

Drake paused, rubbing the back of his neck. She had a point there. If, god forbid, Barthelemy’s plan was successful and he was able to get himself named king-regent, the issuing of treason charges for the two of them would probably be a matter of when, not if. As long as they insisted on keeping Bridget with them, which was obviously not up for debate, they likely would be charged and named as enemies of the state whether they were in Cordonia or in Greece. 

“Okay, let’s say there’s no way to prevent us being named traitors. I still think it’s worth considering that if we stay in Lythikos, we have a support system. We have a roof over our heads. We have food and clothing and money. We have friends who will help us. We don’t get anything like that if we stay in Greece.”

Riley shot him a look that was so withering, he wished he could crawl out of his skin. “And how do we guarantee that Barthelemy won’t freeze Olivia’s accounts and strip her of her title unless she turns us, known traitors and criminals, into his custody?”

“Again, she’s a duchess and head of one the the five major noble houses. Why are you so convinced that he would be able to have so much control over her legally guaranteed powers?”

“Because of what happened with Godfrey when we confronted him about Eleanor’s death.”

“He wasn’t just accused, Riley. We know he killed Liam’s mom.”

“But he wasn’t found guilty or anything. The king’s accusation was enough, right?”

Drake frowned and tried to remember the details of how things worked. He’d never bothered to pay that much attention to the intricacies of the nobility’s power structure during his schooling. After all, it was never going to matter to him. “Actually, I’m pretty sure the reigning monarch can strip any noble of their title for any reason. The noble in question can challenge it if they gain the support of the majority of the major houses, if I remember things correctly.”

“That makes it even worse, Drake! Are you telling me that Barthelemy, if he’s acting as king, could just strip Olivia of her title simply for not supporting him?”

He shook his head. “No, that would be unlikely. The Nevrakises can trace their lineage back past the birth of Cordonia. They are the longest standing major house, and they have made sure their family is well protected by the law. I can’t see Olivia losing her title.”

“But you can’t promise that she’s safe!”

Drake wanted to roll his eyes. The thought of anyone attempting to take Olivia’s title from her and walking away without serious bodily injury was laughable. But he knew that Riley was dangerously close to spiraling into a panicked mess again. So he tried to keep things steady.

“Riley, do you picture Olivia just sitting back and letting someone take Lythikos from her? I am sure her title is safe. Like I said, there are a lot of bylaws and exceptions that protect the Nevrakis family. Besides, a no-confidence vote in Liam is going to draw criticism from a decent amount of the people. He’s not an unpopular king. If Barthelemy removes a monarch and a duchess from a major house in quick succession, he’s going to risk a citizen uprising. Particularly in Lythikos.”

“But that won’t happen instantly, Drake. And Barthelemy could spin this, make Olivia look like she’s a traitor.”

“The citizens of Lythikos won’t buy that.”

“So what? Our plan is to count on a civil war where the citizens of Lythikos are willing to fight for Olivia’s right to shelter us? That seems like a far worse plan than just hiding out in a different country.”

Drake tried to suppress a sigh as he shook his head. “I think you are getting way ahead of yourself, here. We have no reason to believe Olivia will lose her title.”

“And again, I’m telling you that’s optimistic bullshit. Unless I just hallucinated Liam stripping Godfrey, a member of another major house, of all of his Cordonian titles when he was accused of a crime. Guess I got confused while I was almost dying while having to deliver a baby with almost no medical attention in a frickin’ palace bedroom.” Riley sank down on the side of the back seat, a hint of exhaustion noticeable behind the fire in her gaze.

Drake didn’t like to think about those hours before Bridget was born. He’d been scared shitless, trying to keep it together as it seemed more and more likely that there would be no medical care and that Riley or his child… or both might die as a result. They were some of the darkest hours of his life. He’d honestly had no recollection of slamming Bradshaw against the wall when Olivia had mentioned it hours later, everything just a giant blur of fear and anger and desperation, all without wanting to make things worse for Riley by letting her see how stressed he was.

But then Dr. Ramirez was there and in the blink of an eye, Bridget was crying in his arms, and Dr. Ramirez was acting like Riley was out of the woods. The earlier fears and struggles seemed so inconsequential as they held their daughter close. Saw her face. Wrapped her up and held her tight. And maybe naively, Drake had assumed with everything Riley had physically been through during her labor and delivery, that she’d kind of forgotten how dicey it had been since everything turned out okay. But hearing her now, it was clear she carried a lot of pain and fear from that time, even if she never had mentioned it before.

“Riley…” he started, crouching down in front of her, bracing himself on the open car door as he gently placed a hand on her knee, “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn't your fault,” she said with a little shrug.

Drake nodded, “Still, you should have never been in that position.”

“We should have never been in that position, Drake. Maybe you’re just blinded to how fucking bizarre this all is, because it’s all you’ve ever known, but half the things that have happened since I’ve been here are insane. And while delivering her in a palace under lockdown was one of the scarier ones, it isn’t the only time I’ve been in a position that I shouldn’t have had to handle.”

He knew she was right. Assassination attempts, photographers paid to catch her in her underwear, marriage alliances. All of it was kind of bullshit. But they’d always gotten through things together. He didn’t understand why this time she wanted to run and refused to face the problem head on. He didn’t know what to say, so he just gave her knee a squeeze he hoped was comforting and pushed himself up to standing, leaning against the side of the car next to her.

Riley bit her lip, bouncing Bridget on her lap. Bridget was getting crankier. Drake could see it clearly. They’d given her some of her rice puffs, the only snack they had in the diaper bag, which had helped placate her a little, but she was still obviously hungry. Add to the fact that she had been confined to their arms for hours, and it seemed like she was teetering on the edge of a total meltdown. She wanted to be set down, to crawl around and explore. She had no patience for being on the lam.

“Do you want me to take her?” Drake asked, holding out his arms, but Riley shook her head.

“No, I’ve got her.” Her arms tightened slightly around Bridget as she responded.

Drake frowned. Part of him was scared that if he pushed Riley any further right now, she might just bolt. But a bigger part of him knew that if they didn’t address this, that it was only going to get worse. And if they decided to stay in Greece, they were only going to have each other. Not trusting each other fully wasn’t an option.

“You don’t trust me with her.”

Riley swallowed slowly before glancing up and looking at Drake. He hadn’t exactly phrased his statement like a question, but Riley treated it as one anyway. “You’re oversimplifying things. It’s not that straight forward.”

He just shook his head, pushing off the car and resuming his earlier pacing. “It is, Riley. If you can’t answer ‘yes’ to that, well then you obviously don’t trust me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you with her,” she said, her voice cracking slightly, “If you want to, you can hold her.”

Drake let out a sigh. “I’m not trying to turn this into a power struggle over who gets to keep her in their arms. That’s not… You’re acting like you’re the only parent here. You’ve decidedly unilaterally that our child has to leave the country. And that’s not fair.”

“You want to know what’s not fair, Drake?” Her voice was high pitched and fragile sounding, but her words were sharp and clear. This wasn’t her panicked ramblings of a couple of hours ago. This was a speech she’d held in her heart for a long time. “What isn’t fair is that your best friend showed up on our honeymoon, asking us for a wildly inappropriate favor with a heavy dose of guilt thrown on the side. What isn’t fair is that you agreed to it before even speaking to me about it. What isn’t fair is that if I hadn’t agreed to it, I would have been the bitch who rejected a guy when he was down on one knee and then forbid the guy I married, his best friend in the whole world, from helping him out.”

“Riley… I-” Drake wanted to try and soothe her, to acknowledge how much rougher everything had been than he could have envisioned when Liam showed up, solemn and resigned, with his request on that beach. But Riley wasn’t done.

“You called it an honor, Drake. That was how you phrased it. Tell me, was it an honor watching the press hound me for months, wanting to know every detail about my body? Was it an honor having to fend off two foreign powers who wanted some archaic marriage alliance with your unborn child? Was it an honor to feel backed into the corner and agreeing to one of those alliances to save my life? To save Bridget’s life? Was it an honor dragging her to balls and galas and events when she wasn’t even vaccinated yet? Because as I see it, this whole scheme has brought our family nothing but struggles and stress and sadness.”

“Of course all that shit sucked! But you don’t get to sit there and act like you are not complicit in almost every part of it. You agreed to it. You don’t get to blame me forever for a choice we both made.” Drake knew his phrasing was harsh, but it wasn’t fair for her to act like he’d forced her to do anything. If she had given him a firm “no” back then, that would have been that.

“You’re right - I should have fought you on this earlier. But I’m not going to just continue to roll along with it when it keeps hurting my child over and over again. So, I’m taking a stand now. I’m saying enough is enough. I’m done. I am not going to keep quiet about it anymore. I should have never agreed to name her heir. Hell, I should have never accepted the duchy.” There were tears trailing down her cheeks, but she held his gaze, steady and sure of her decision. Her arms locked tightly around Bridget as she squirmed on her lap, but she wasn’t distracted.

“Riley, if you had just told me-”

“Drake, I was clearly a reluctant participant from the start. Anytime I started to voice concerns, you just reassured me over and over. You never wanted to hear it.”

It was like the wind was knocked out of him. She really thought he was ignoring her serious objections intentionally? As far as he’d been able to tell, she had just wanted reassurance that she was still a good mom, in spite of all the royal pomp and drama. “Why was this the one fucking topic you decided to be coy about? Literally anything else on the planet you’ve always been blunt and direct with me. You’ve never beat around the apple tree. You called things as you saw them, at least when it was just the two of us. How was I supposed to know you were suddenly shy and reserved when it came to the biggest decision we have ever made?”

“I was afraid,” she said with a little shrug, her face downturned as she dropped a kiss to the top of Bridget’s head

“Of what?”

“Of making you choose between me and Liam.”

Drake let her words wash over him for a few moments before he responded. “Afraid about making me choose or afraid of what my choice would be?”

Her eyes flitted upward as she blinked out a few more tears. “Both, I guess. I felt bad enough that I was this… elephant in the room when it came to your friendship with him, but… I guess part of me was always a little worried that if I really drew a line in the sand, you would feel like you had to stick with him.”

Her words hurt. There was no point denying that. But at the same time, he understood. Not that he thought he might have ever picked his friend over his wife, but that feeling that others would always be more important, the fear that everyone would always just focus on Liam? Well, he got that feeling better than anyone, probably. Combine that with all her fears of abandonment, and he understood how she could have gotten to that point.

“Riley, if I wanted to put Liam’s needs first, I would have proposed to him, not you.” She let out a watery little chuckle at that, so Drake kept going, hoping he was on the right track. “You are my family. You are my whole world, okay? Bridget is the only one who’s as important to me. I love Liam like a brother, but I didn’t exchange vows with him. If you tell me you need me for something, that’s it.”

Riley tucked Bridget back against her hip with one arm and reached her other out towards Drake. He grabbed her hand and tugged her up to standing, wrapping his arms around her and Bridget tightly as she looped an arm around his neck and tucked her face against his shoulder. They stood like that for nearly a minute before Riley loosened her grip and let her hand slide down, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

“I get why you want to turn around and go back, but it doesn’t feel safe to me,” she said, her eyes focused on his shoulder. “We don’t know if Barthelemy has power or not. If he does, we are going to be labeled as traitors anyway, and Olivia’s protection might not be enough to keep our daughter safe by our sides. I can’t knowingly take that gamble, Drake. I just can’t.”

Drake nodded, sliding a hand up to the back of her head and holding her even tighter against him. “You know that we are taking the much more difficult option here, right? We could probably go back and renounce our titles and Bridget’s claim to the throne without any of those fears coming to pass.”

He felt Riley nod against his shoulder. Her voice was muffled as she said, “But do we even have the power to essentially abdicate for Bridget at this point? We were included in that no-confidence vote along with Liam.”

Drake leaned back slightly, needing to look Riley in the eyes. “I don’t know, Walker.”

She bit her lip and nodded again. “Then I can’t take that risk. I would rather face a crazy uphill battle as a family than watch her get ripped from our arms surrounded by Liam, Hana, Maxwell, and Olivia.”

“We’ll stay in Greece, then - on one condition.” Riley frowned at him, so he kept going quickly before she could imagine up all sorts of horrible restrictions he could throw at her. “From now on, we decide our next steps together. If we’re doing this as a family, you and I have to be on the same page. Because Riley, I don’t think we can count on anyone else’s support going forward. And this is going to be hard enough without us doubting and second guessing each other.”

He didn’t bring up the issue of trust again, knowing it would be a moot point. She was going to have to learn to not let her fears override her trust in him, because going forward, there wouldn’t be another option. Hopefully, he would be able to show her he meant what he said by sticking by her side. 

They held each other for a few more moments, but then Bridget started doing her crabby, whiny babble, unhappy with not only being forced to stay in their arms, but even more confined between both their bodies. So they broke apart, but Riley clutched his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Drake.”

He nodded at her, keeping his hand locked on her hers. Squinting, he thought he could make out Ray, coming back down the road, a shopping bag in one hand. “We should probably come clean to him at some point.”

Riley followed his gaze and sighed, but nodded. “How pissed is Olivia going to be?”

“I think she already suspects we crossed the border. But as for us not turning around?” Drake started, but his thought was interrupted by a buzzing in his back pocket. With his free hand, he tugged out his phone. “Well, I think we’re about to find out,” he said as he showed Riley Olivia’s name across the screen.

He took one last deep breath before swiping to accept her call. “Hey, Olivia.”

“It’s just me and Hana here,” she said, not sparing any time for pleasantries, “so you need to honestly let me how stupid you guys were. Did you guys leave the country?”

“Yes. We were already across the border before I called Liam.”

There was a brief pause before Olivia continued, “And what’s your plan now?”

He locked eyes with Riley and nodded at her before he responded, “I’m sorry. But we aren’t risking coming back.”

Permatag:  @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker  @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5  @mfackenthal  @thequeenofcronuts  

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria  @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs  @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99

Fight or Flight: @masterofbluff @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby @shz256 @iaminlovewithtrr​

[findingarcadia]

Made For Him

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818468/chapters/66040222

Chapter 4 : Disharmony

The two of us sat in silence for a bit, drinking in the sounds of nature. Me more so than Shoto, who was undoubtedly enjoying the sensation of my fingers running through his hair. To this day my mind could not understand why he dyed it but nonetheless went with it. To be honest it looked good on him. Him and his two-colored eyes. We sat on Yua’s porch watching our group of friends and family play, get dirty, and wrestle through the dirt. I loved each and every one of them in their own way. That included the older people in our ‘family’. Thinking about this family brought my mind to the many unanswered questions I still had.

What exactly are we?

Why is everything a secret?

What is it that lingers around and tugs at me?

Am I crazy?

Living in Washington, let alone a town so close to the border of Canada it was 50 percent forest and more beyond the United States border and mostly protected by laws – laws that forbade many from trespassing on certain lands or deforesting. I never understood the importance of that until recently, the forests were our home. We were woodland people if anyone had to label us. I never understood why part of that many questions deal. We stayed away from the towns and people mostly. We’ve lived here in Spokane since we came to America.

In my time here I did notice many things, people steered clear of us. The other kids rarely spoke to us. We were labeled weird and barbaric for living in the woods and surviving the way we do. I’d like to think we were normal….mostly. We lived like anyone else, shopped for food, hunted for the winter, used furs to help warm us along with some luxuries. We just kept to ourselves. Like a tribe. Or a pack.

“Izuku…”

My mind raced, dark green bunnies zipping about on my life and questions that I barely heard the words that came from my best friend.

“Earth to Izuku.”

I took a breath and pulled my hand from his hair and looked down at him. “Sorry, mind bunnies.”

“I see that. What is going on in that head of yours?” He said as he turned slightly toward me.

“Would you believe me if I said absolutely nothing?”

“No.” Shoto deadpanned.

Sighing I tugged the blanket around myself and up to my chin. “You know, we’ve been here for a long time.”

“And?”

“I’m just saying. Anyway, it’s been what eleven years.” I said softly through the fabric while looking out at the slowly dimming light. Aizawa would most likely want me safely inside the house, and he would probably call Yua just for kicks to make sure I was home. “No one has changed.”

Shoto paused in his motion of attempting to get up and let his eyes shift toward me.

There was a long pause that made something in my head sound an alarm.

Something was not right.

“Change?” he asked. “Change as in personality-wise or what? We don’t need to change who we are or what we do because here we are a family. We look after one another. Why change?”

Smooth Shoto Todoroki, real smooth.

“Yeah…” I agreed knowing full well he detoured the true meaning behind my statement earlier.

“Come on, worrywart. Let’s get you inside.” Shoto stated as he turned and lifted himself to his feet. He offered a hand to help me from my comfortable spot and sadly I took it mourning the warmth and comfort that I had at that very moment. Letting the blanket slip from around me ungracefully, I shoved it back into the chair and allowed Shoto to pull me towards him and ultimately toward the door.

“Aww look at you being a good babysitter. You brought me back home right at curfew.” I taunted. “I’m sure if you sit and give paw, you’ll get treats.”

Shoto just stared at me while I had gotten my keys out and had them in the door ready to open it. “Forget Aizawa and his issues,” Shoto said as he moved away from me with a small smirk on his lips. “You’re lucky I let you live past childhood.”

A snort gracefully slipped out of me, or as gracefully as a snort could. Before I could say anything Shoto swatted my backside and took off, off the porch, and along the path toward his family’s house. His agility to this day confuses me and makes me a little uneasy. Shaking my head I opened the door and walked in, toeing my shoes off at the front. The house Yua and I lived in was designed similar to a traditional Japanese house. Well at least on the inside. Shoes off at the genkan.

“Hang your jacket up!” Yua’s voice floated through the house from the kitchen. Her senses always amazed me, her knack for knowing who was in the house or what was going on was unreal, but hey I guess that is a mom thing. What’s funny is that I had been seconds away from just tossing my jacket either on the floor or on a chair.

Making my way to the kitchen I spotted the mother-to-be, or already mother… I don’t even know anymore. She was creating a concoction of things. Taking a sniff, I could smell a weird mix. “Onions, peaches, chocolate, noodles…” I paused watched her add pickle juice while she had a cookie shoved in her mouth. “I’m ordering take out.”

“Awww Izu, you don’t want some?”

I looked on in horror, surveying the dishes and chopped vegetables on the counter and the other empty containers. “Nope.” I declared. “You and your craving have just created a monster sickness in my stomach.”

Yua giggled and shrugged while she attended her…whatever it was.

“Where’s the beef?”

With all the weird craving this woman had, there was always meat involved. Beef usually, ground and made into the perfect meatballs, or shredded and sprinkled over something. I swear the baby was a carnivorous beast and it made its mother eat weird nasty meat concoctions. Ah, the price of motherhood. Those dark, fuzzy, hopping creatures were back in my brain. Lately, weird things had been happening when it came to Yua, her abdomen would swelling and something it looked like the baby was having a party in there, other times her abdomen would be a normal size for someone who was as pregnant as she was. I had thought to ask but assumed it would go into the pile of unanswered questions.

“Hey.” Yua touched my chin. “I’m going to be okay.” I wondered briefly when I had zoned out long enough for her to waddle herself toward me.

“Mind reader.” It was like this woman knew me so well that my thought never escaped her.

Yua just smiled and pulled away from me with her hand pulled up into fists, like she was ready to throw a punch. “I’m a fighter, besides I’m just pregnant not…”

“I know…”

I didn’t want to think of anything happening to the one person aside from Aizawa that helped nurture me and raise me. For an orphaned child she has never met, Yua had given up being anything normal and risen to the plate of motherhood. She gave me a home and made sure of our places in this family. She stood up to many people when it came to me and my mischief, Aizawa included. You know I think that was why we were together like this because Aizawa saw her love and care and willingness to fight for someone she knew nothing about.

“You’re gonna be okay.” I whispered to myself, hoping that if repeated enough I would believe it. That if said enough like prayer, it would be true. Pregnancies are difficult, sometimes women die in childbirth. Especially if the family was insistent on home birth, those were difficult if there were complications.

Shut up brain.

“Alistair?” Changing the subject was the best considering where my brain decided to go. Stupid bunnies making my train of thought run wild. Yua’s husband, the man she left Japan for. He usually was glued to her side, never one to leave for fear of something happening. Hence the fear instilled into me. Besides, Yua could cook and he never missed her meals. Even if I was not fond of the man, he just gave me weird vibes, his absence was a bit strange to me.

“He won’t be home tonight.” She said as she waddled back and forth in the kitchen, messing with her mixture of food. “Try this.”

Having let the mind bunnies free to dash and hop I realized too late that I took the bite offer. I had regrets, major regrets. Never again was I allowing this woman to feed me. Her food, I wanted no part of any longer. “Disgusting!” I had spit it out in the trash and proceeded to drown my mouth with anything sugary to get the taste out of my mouth.

“Hmmm…” she said and spooned a portion into her mouth. “Your loss, I guess.”

I gagged and proceeded to take large gulps of the soda I had opened. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Yua shrugged and proceeded with her project. At this point there was no other word for it, the food was a project made for the science fair. It was a concoction made of pure pregnant evil.

“I swear, if I didn’t know you, I’d say you were evil.”

“Then you don’t know me very well.” She said as she took another spoonful.

“Yeah, on that note.” I left the kitchen in search of the takeout menus we had stashed somewhere for when Shoto and I had those boring nights of video games and crap talk. “Alistair isn’t home, even though he’s like your guard dog. Aizawa has given me a curfew and gave me babysitters. You’re messing around with me in hopes of distracting me from asking questions.” I yelled as I dug through the side table drawer in the living room. “What’s going on?”

Yua’s form appeared in the entryway of the kitchen leading toward the dining and living area. “Izuku, do me a favor. Stay out of it.” Her expression was one of pleading and I turned away from her face to look at the now found menus.

There was silence on my end. I couldn’t stay out of this, it involved me. I’m part of this family. I deserve to know.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you would.” She sighed. “I’m stressed, Izu, I don’t think this is good for me so please.”

My eyes widened and I looked at her then. She struck where it hurt, my care, and worry for her. “You’re gonna be fine.” I repeated my statement from earlier. “Besides telling me to stay out of it, makes me want to know even more. It obviously must be big, and it involves this family. I am part of this family.”

Yua didn’t respond. Not a word. I couldn’t read her expression and at that moment, deep down I knew this was far bigger than I expected.

[hongism]

not your typical flower shop story chapter three

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Flower Shop Owner!Taehyung, College!Reader, College!Taehyung, Fluff, Angst, Future Smut

Word Count: 6102

Rating: M

Warnings: language

Summary: You always goes to the cute boy next door’s flower shop across the street because hi yes he’s the cutest damn person you’ve ever seen, until one day a guy with tattoos and a severe obsession with the color black shows up in the shop asking for the ‘usual’ and you find out that your cute innocent little flower boy has a dirty little secret.

A/N: i don’t have much of a note to add soooo we may as well jump right into the story woot woot~ i hope you all enjoy the chapter! I’m so so sorry this took so long to get out! I got distracted by finding beauty, then i had no inspiration, and askdkfjdk i was a mess for a bit. It’s finally done though and I’m super excited to share it with you guys!

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"Before I explain anything, you need to be sure about this," Yoongi says, hands outstretched as though warning you against this decision. You grit your teeth and press your lips into a thin line. "If we tell you the truth, there's no going back."

"Stop making it sound so dramatic," you respond. "I don't care." I don't care. I need to know now.

"I don't think you realize the weight of the situation, Y/N. I'm being serious. Dead serious. Your life could turn to shit after this, and what we tell you could put you in danger."

"More danger than what I experienced earlier tonight?" You inquire. You fold your arms over you chest, pushing your weight onto your back foot as you glare at Yoongi. Taehyung doesn't move a muscle; he merely glances between you and Yoongi with wide eyes. "How much worse can it get?" A sigh passes through Yoongi's slightly agape lips, and you smirk at his resignation. He motions over his shoulder in the direction of the living room.

"Can we at least sit and talk about this in there?"

You nod, following both men out to the living room. Reality seems to hit in that moment, as you walk behind them with head ducked, and cold seeps through your skin and fills your whole system. How bad can it be? Not a part of the mafia, right? How dangerous are these two? And the fleeting final thought before you sink into the armchair — what am I getting myself into?

If any of this is supposed to make any sense at all, you are sure that the world is ending and things are meant to turn to shit before it all crashes down on itself. And you suppose that maybe, just maybe, you are perfectly okay with the world ending right now, but you want to be a bit selfish and ask for a bit more out of life first.

The feeling that you had while crouched under a dirty table in that diner was not something you want to experience again. The result that came about the first time you were in the diner — the painful memories you were left to live with alone because your companion then was not as lucky as you were — is not something you want to ever happen again. You don't want another person to take your place, after living with the consequences. So if you can have the ability to prevent that from ever happening again, you may as well do everything in your power to obtain that ability. Something tells you that whatever danger Yoongi is trying to warn you against is exactly what you need. So you are going to take this chance.

"I know you say you don't care, but this is a very serious situation. A matter of life or death. It sounds dramatic, but it's real." Yoongi leans forward in his spot on the couch, elbows finding a home on his knees and propping his chin up atop his clenched fists. Taehyung sits beside him, rigid and still, some sort of unnerving quiet about his presence that hits you with a sense of dread.

"I'm okay with that," you say under your breath. The words come out a bit more unsure than you would like, and the gleams of doubt in both Yoongi and Taehyung's eyes is not helping your case. You sit up a bit straighter, clearing your throat to repeat the words with more resolve. "I'm okay with whatever it is."

"Even if it may be on the wrong side of the law? Or not…the most respectable job?"

"I don't care what it is."

"If you're certain…" Yoongi trails off, still obviously hesitant about sharing the truth with you.

"If knowing whatever your deep dark secret is will make sure that I don't have to go through that kind of fear again, then I am certain."

"What happened to running away from your problems?" Yoongi laughs through his words, a slight smile finding its way onto his lips. He doesn't wait for you to offer a counter argument though and begins to explain. "Do you know what a hitman is?"

"What? Um, yea I'm pretty sure I do. It's just a person who is paid to kill a target, right?"

"Technically yes. I mention that because this is the easiest way to explain what Taehyung and I do for a living."

"You kill people," you state, thoughts leaving your mind the moment Yoongi's words sink in. All of the sudden, knowing the truth doesn't seem as appealing as you thought. But the thought of sweet little innocent flower boy Taehyung killing someone? How is that even possible?

"No — well yes but ugh, okay. Let me just explain this a bit, okay? It's not as simple as that." Yoongi drops his arms and resituates a bit on the couch. "So, Taehyung and I — we are a part of a group — you might call it a gang, but that's a bit too simple for our tastes — and our group is responsible for special kinds of jobs. We do a number of things, and yes, operating as hitmen is one of those things. Each of us has a specific role or job. We go about missions based on these jobs, so not all of us are killers."

"All of you? As in, all two of you? Or are there more?"

"There are seven of us at the moment. Our leader…he tends to be pretty exclusive with who is allowed into the group, so there aren't many of us."

"But you're not a gang? Or in some sector of the mafia?"

"You could call us a gang, but we don't like that label too much. It's — if I try to explain it, you'll think we're just some sort of cocky assholes."

You exhale slowly, breath cascading over your lips, and lean back in the armchair. A gang. Taehyung is in a gang that kills people and does other shady shit. Taehyung. None of this sounds real. Maybe I died back in the diner and this is some weird state of the afterlife that is supposed to signal something.

"So, to summarize: you and Taehyung are part of a gang, but it's not technically a gang, and you kill people, but the two of you don't do the killing? Do you realize how odd that sounds?"

"Yes, that sounds crazy. I guess instead of calling it a gang, it should be an adult criminal organization? That explains it a bit better." Yoongi shrugs, glancing over at Taehyung to see his reaction to the explanation, and Taehyung nods along with him.

"You mentioned special roles?"

"We have specific jobs. Only one person in our group is an assassin. The others all deal with other sorts of jobs."

"Like what?" You wave your hands a bit as a wave of frustration rises in your gut. The whole situation doesn't fit together in your mind.

"Well, sometimes certain people need information. We have someone who goes to business meetings, conferences, parties, those sorts of things, to extort information from others. And he gets that information through bribery or lust-driven fantasies or even just a glass of good wine. Or, if our client needs information obtained in a different manner, we have a hacker who can secure that information in a more covert manner. Break-ins, hacking, seduction, killing — you name it, someone does it."

"What about both of you? Can you tell me what your jobs are?" Yoongi hesitates, a breath of silence, and you narrow your eyes at the man. He doesn't meet your gaze, however, instead glancing over at Taehyung and exchanging an emotional stare with him. Taehyung slowly shakes his head, as though the speed of his movements will prevent you from seeing them. Yoongi pokes the tip of his tongue out between his teeth.

"I'm the guy you hire when you to infiltrate a building. Think, a spy minus the parties and the socialization." Yoongi motions towards the gun that has found its way onto the living room table again. "I rarely have to use it, but if I'm at risk of being caught, I have to do what I have to do. I have another job, but it isn't supposed to be open information. Have to keep it on the down low, just in case."

"So…" You trail off, whatever you were thinking of saying dying before it reaches the air, and stare at the handguns lying innocently on the table. Yoongi seems to sense what weighs on your mind though.

"I can't say that I've never killed anyone. Of course, a lot of shame comes with that weight, but I do what I have to. We all do. I know that if I had the opportunity to pay off my brother's education in a different way, I most definitely would do that instead. But what I have now — what we have together in this group — it's just as good as a family to me. I haven't got any shame for being a part of it, just for some of the things I have to do."

"I...it's just a bit hard to wrap my mind around it. The people you kill have families too. Don't you think they're trying to help their families in some way?"

"Part of the business, Y/N, is learning where to draw the line. Sometimes it's blurry or nonexistent, but a lot of the time, you have to figure out what your morals are and prioritize those. I don't have time to waste my energy on other people's opinions. I do what I have to do. Some things I enjoy, some things I don't. Isn't that merely a part of life?"

You frown at his words. The line between right and wrong, good and evil. A thing your parents taught you about from a young age. Your teachers, friends and family all played a part in molding your view of the world and deciding where that line was. But that all falls under the same umbrella, the umbrella that means being good and right, an umbrella that is supposed to protect you from the evil and wrong. And those thoughts that crossed your mind before you pushed the mug to the ground earlier returns.

They raise you to think that doing good and being good is all that matters. That no matter what evil you see or hear, you are supposed to be good. Help others by doing good and meaningful things. What if doing good things doesn't get you far enough?

You press your palms against the cushion under you.

"I don't know," you say, looking over in Yoongi's direction. He blinks back at you with eyes a bit wider than they were before, and you rush to clarify what you mean in the face of his confusion. "How on earth are you supposed to build your own morals when people have been telling you what you're supposed to think and say for your whole life?"

There's a familiar ring in your head as your question lingers in the air, one that hearkens memories from a time when you were younger. Yoongi's expression softens. Taehyung finally looks in your direction. You only hear your mother's voice whispering gently in your ear, almost feeling her breath against the shell of it as she recites the words she used to whisper to you before tucking you into bed at night.

"Remember, Y/N. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil."

The things she told you as a child, what's right and wrong, ways to be a good person, and the punishments that follow being a bad person. Like when you took a pack of candy from the grocery store and stuffed it under your shirt, walking out the door without a thought about it being wrong in any way. She reprimanded you so much after that incident, told you how bad it was to take things that don't belong to you, and demanded that you tell her where the idea came from.

"From my mind," you had said. Without any outside influence, you had had the urge to steal the candy because you knew that your mother wouldn't want to buy it for you and would tell you to put it back. In all of her nighttime mantras, never did she say "do no evil". See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil. Not do no evil.

"I don't understand," you whisper, more to yourself than to the men sitting to your side. "Doing evil things with good intention. Does that balance it out? Do the scales tip more in one direction than the other? But which side weighs more?"

"It doesn't have a measurement, Y/N," Yoongi responds, voice hovering above a whisper along with yours. "Trust me, I've thought about this time and time again, but I've never gotten an answer. Eventually I came to terms with the burden. Killing someone? That's on me, that's something I have to live with for the rest of my life. But when I lay down at night and think about what and who I did that for, I'm at peace with it. I know that it didn't come from a place of hatred or evil, merely self-defense and the will to keep on living for the people I care about."

"So if…what if I—I have someone, a person I want to protect and live for?"

"What are you asking me, Y/N?"

You pause, chewing on your words by gnawing on the tip of your tongue, and look away from the two men. If I had the chance — the ability — to go back and kill that robber before he hurt anyone the first time I was at the diner, would I take it? In a heartbeat. And to what extent would I go to pay off the medical bills? Find a magic cure for him? Bring him back as the person I knew?

"I-I'm asking what I have to do to be a part of this."

"Y/N, no!" Taehyung speaks up for the first time. He lunges out of his seat, standing and putting both hands up in front of your body. His expression is panicked, shoulders tensed and drawn upward so high they nearly touch his ears. "No, I can't let you be dragged into this. Not this. You are a good person. Please don't do this."

“Wow…that’s — uh, you’re a really good person. That’s amazing how you want to help people and do good things for others. I…I can’t imagine.”

You squint at the man before you. What about you, Taehyung? What do you do this evil work for? Aren't you the same as Yoongi? Wanting to help the people you care about, but needing to do that by bad methods?

"What if it's my decision? I want this. I need this. I have people I care about too, people I need to help, and I can't do that now. If I have even the slightest chance to be able to help them, why would I not take that?" Your hands tremble slightly as you tuck them into your lap.

"You don't deserve to be dragged into this life. You deserve more than this. I-I can help—I can help you financially if that's what you need. I'll give you any amount of money if you just don't d—"

"But then I'm not helping anyone. I would be simply taking your money! I'd be taking away money you could use for people who matter to you."

"It's okay! I don't mind, Y/N. I just — I don't want you to be a part of this life. It's not meant for you. You're too good and want to do something impactful and meaningful for others. This won't get you there."

"You don't know anything about me, Taehyung. You know me as the girl who comes by your flower shop every week, but that's it. You don't know what I've lost or what I've had to go through. You said it yourself at the diner: I am a person who has seen a lot of terrible and evil things, and I want the best from people even though I've been disappointed too many times to count. If this is some sort of retribution and a way for me to rectify the mistakes I've made throughout my life, then so be it. If I want this, then please let me have it." You plead with Taehyung, hands clasping together in your lap, and you look up to meet his gaze. Taehyung releases an almost inaudible whine and turns away from you.

"She's right, Taehyung," Yoongi interjects. "You can't make this decision for her. If this is what she wants, then she has every right to pursue it."

"Thank you," you mutter as you drop your hands again.

"But it's not that easy. Neither of us can just let you in, and that's not a decision that's up to the two of us. As I mentioned earlier, our leader is very particular about who is allowed in the group. We would have to go to him and discuss things with him first before you're even allowed to meet him, then he would have to meet you in person and conduct some tests to make sure you're certain about this." You shake your head a little, looking around Taehyung's body to meet Yoongi's eyes.

"I don't care what it takes. This opportunity came to me for a reason, and I would be stupid if I didn't take it."

Yoongi sighs.

"Let me go make a quick call then. I'll be right back." He stands and moves away from the couch, leaving you and Taehyung to remain in the living room with an awkward silence ready to ensue.

The front door to the apartment snaps shut and announces Yoongi's exit. Taehyung lowers himself to the couch once more, refusing to look in your direction again.

"I'm sorry about your mug," you say to break the silence.

"It's okay."

"I'm sorry for getting angry with you too. I don't understand what kind of situation you're in or why you have to do this. I shouldn't judge you for something I don't understand."

"It's okay, Y/N. I get it, I really do. All the questions you were asking…I had the exact some concerns when I first started this job. I still struggle a lot with it as well, and I've never really come to terms with the ugly parts of my job. I try to remind myself that I'm doing it with good intentions and it's for a good cause, but at the end of the day, I'm never sure whether I'm just trying to tell myself that it's okay when it isn't. Yoongi has had a lot more time to wrestle with those things, and he is much stronger than I am in terms of mentality and emotions. He seems to have it all under control and knows what he believes in, but I…I can't do that. I-I think being around you, it-it makes me think more about it. You're a good person, even if you claim that I don't know you, I can see it. In the way you treat people, what you want to do with your life, even when you claim that you need to be a part of this life in order to help. At the end of this road, when it's all said and done, I know that you will still be a good person. If you join this life, no matter what you have to do, you will always have those good intentions and a good heart. As for me…I-I, I'm not sure that I can say the same about myself."

You frown. Eyes averted, Taehyung sniffles and rubs at the base of his nose. You're certain that if he were to turn his head, you would find tears on his cheeks. Sweet, innocent Taehyung. That's how you have seen him since the first time you went to his flower shop. And yet, now, months later, you see that he doesn't think of himself in the same way. It's almost a form of self-hatred, his misconceptions driving his mind to a place of hatred for what he does and why he does it. And yet… 

"You saw the good in me, Taehyung. Even though I don't think of myself the same way, you still believe that I'm that kind of person. I've always seen you as that kind of person as well. You may not believe me, or you may not want to, but I think of you as a good person."

He looks over at you, eyes a bit bloodshot, and you see the tear tracts on the balls of his cheeks. He doesn't say anything in response to your small rant. After another few moments of quiet between the two of you, he reopens his mouth and begins to talk again.

"I-I don't hurt people. Not physically at least. I never have, and I've never used my gun. It is just something that I have to have with me at all times, just in case something does happen, but if that time comes, I'm not sure I would be able to shoot someone, even in self-defense. I don't want to. The others know that and understand it, but I've a-always felt a bit guilty about it. For making them think that if it came down to it, I wouldn't be able to protect them. I'm just a hacker. A simple and easy job where I can stay in the base and not worry about ever having to hurt someone."

"But sometimes it feels like you're hurting people nonetheless?" You ask, trying to follow Taehyung's train of thought.

"Yea…sometimes I think that. When I take funds, I think about how maybe those people could've used the money to support their family or pay for bills and education. And with information, I think that maybe someone might lose their job for not protecting the information better. Maybe they'll have to go home to their spouse and children and tell them that they don't have a job anymore. They can't support the family anymore. I worry that I'm the cause for a divorce or strife and all kinds of other bad things. And I wonder if it would be better for me to just hurt people physically instead of emotionally…"

"Why are you part of the gang if that's the case? Wouldn't it be better for you to not do that kind of work?"

"They need me," Taehyung whispers, "and I need them. Without them, I don't know where I'd be or what I'd do. I've talked about it with our leader before, and he always tells me that I don't have to do anything I don't want to. Even if I step away for a few days or don't work for a couple of weeks, I always end up coming back. They mean too much to me for me to walk away." Another question lingers on your lips but it remains there, hanging on the tip of your tongue, as Yoongi enters the apartment again. You turn your attention to the door, and Taehyung looks over his shoulder. "What did he say?" Taehyung asks. Yoongi doesn't say anything so you search his expression for some sort of answer, but he remains blank as he walks back to the couch. "Hyung?"

"He said he talked to Moon earlier and that they both decided it would be a good idea." First Chariot, now Moon? What the hell? Are they using code names or something? But Yoongi and Taehyung have been using each other's names this whole time.

"Moon? Why would his opinion matter at all in this?" Taehyung asks. He rubs at his eyes in an attempt to erase any sign of his earlier tears.

"He didn't explain why, and I didn't ask."

"So what does this mean for me?" You cut into the conversation.

"It means you get to go meet him."

"What?" You and Taehyung speak at the same time, and a small grin crawls onto Yoongi's lips. He laughs at the expressions of shock across both your faces.

"No need to be so panicked. You won't be meeting him at our base, you won't get to come near that place until he's talked with you some first and decides whether you can join. So, in the meantime, you and I will go on a little walk to meet up with him. As for you, Tae, he asked that you head to the base to report to Star. He wants to know everything that went down tonight in case that guy in the diner was part of a rival gang." More code names? What the hell…how am I supposed to keep up with all of this?

"What? Wh-why can't I come along with you two? I feel like I should be there…" Taehyung trails off. Yoongi brings a hand down on his shoulder, eyes boring holes into the side of his head.

"Do you trust me to keep her safe?"

"Of course I do."

"And do you trust me to do whatever I have to to make sure she's safe?"

"I do, hyung."

"Then go back to the base. I'll take care of things."

Taehyung does as asked and stands, but he passes you one last glance before stepping around the couch. He doesn't say anything else; instead choosing to leave the apartment with you and Yoongi behind. Once the door closes behind him, you let out a deep exhale.

"Um, so where are we supposed to meet this—uh, your leader?" You ask, and Yoongi laughs at the awkwardness residing in your tone.

"You can call him Emperor."

"Sorry, what? Uh, I think not? That sounds like a weird kink, and I'm not into that." Yoongi only laughs harder at your statement, doubling over where he sits.

"It's not a kink. Not one that I know of, at least. I just can't tell you his real name, so I'm giving you his code name instead." Yoongi gets up and grabs his handgun off the table. He tucks it into his waistband before addressing you again. "I can't tell you exactly where we're going, so I'll need you to trust that I'm not gonna take you to an alley to kill you."

"That's reassuring, thanks," you say in response, a slight scoff following your words, and you stand as well. You pat your pockets, waiting for the familiar bump of your cell phone, but it never comes. "Uh, one second, I think I left my phone in Taehyung's room." Yoongi shrugs. As soon as you step back into Taehyung's room, you spot your phone lying on the bed. Notifications litter the screen, some from your friends at university, one from your mother, and another from one of your coworkers, but you don't pay them any mind because something else garners your attention on the screen. Four new messages from Jimin, along with two missed calls from the same ID.

from y/n, 11:26 p.m. read

- i know you aren't really him, because the hospital would've told me if anything happened. so quit playing games and tell me who you really are.

from jimin, 11:32 p.m. read

- and how exactly would you know that??

from jimin, 11:34 p.m. read

- it's not like you ever visited the hospital…not really. leaving flowers in the lobby??? were you really that busy to not even have time to come to my room? see how i was doing? only ever had the time to ask the receptionist to send the flowers to my room? good fucking riddance, y/n.

from jimin, 11:35 p.m. read

- you disappeared on me. all the messages you sent about how you wished i hadn't disappeared, or left you, or gone away were bullshit. you were the one to leave me. how could you not realize that? are you that fucking full of yourself? think you're such a good and wonderful person that it would never be your fault?

from jimin, 11:57 p.m. read

- is it your turn to ignore me now??

You can't stop your hands from shaking now, fingers too unstable for you to be able to type out an answer. Even if you could answer, you have no idea what you would say in response to that. How did he know that I never visited him? Did the nurses tell him? Was he released? No…that's not possible…they would have told me. I-I don't understand what's happening. Everything is falling apart all at once.

"Is everything alright?" Yoongi's voice enters the room.

No.

"Yea, I'm fine. Sorry, got distracted for a second."

"Watch out for the glass."

"I'm fine." You join Yoongi by the door, pushing your phone into your pocket without looking at the screen again. "Let's go. I'd rather not keep your friend waiting." Yoongi snorts and leads the way out of the apartment. He snatches Taehyung's keys off the counter before he goes though, and he allows you to step into the hallway first as well, locking the door behind him once he is in the hallway as well.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

You jump at the sound of the voice, even though it's one quite familiar by now. Down the hall, Hifumi stands, stepping out of the elevator just as Yoongi locks the door. She wears the same slinky outfit you saw her leave in earlier in the night, but a coy smile resides on her lips now in addition to the outfit. She holds her painful looking stilettos in one hand, the other resting on her hip as she walks closer to where you're standing with Yoongi.

"Isn't this an interesting turn of events?"

You huff in response.

"It seems your little date went quite well, I assume? They say two's company, three's a crowd. Just more opportunities for pleasure though, am I right?" Hifumi laughs, tongue poking out between her teeth. Yoongi doesn't say anything; he merely stands at your side, glancing over Hifumi with little interest.

"Oh please, Hifumi. You really think I'm that type of girl?" You scoff.

"Hm? Oh, if you haven't tried it, I highly recommend. Quite the experience. And with your choice of company, I'm sure it would be quite the pleasure as well. Better than any of the other people you've dragged through your door." Hifumi laughs as redness creeps up your neck, and you shift from foot to foot with growing discomfort. She passes a wink your way, eyes travel over Yoongi's form, then she moves for her door. "Goodnight, Y/N. Maybe I'll see your friend around?"

"I wouldn't cou—"

"Depends," Yoongi cuts in, preventing you from finishing your denial. Hifumi releases a loud laugh, and the sound echoes through the hall. She continues to laugh until she's disappeared behind her door. "She's funny."

"Excuse me?"

"She's funny," Yoongi reiterates, leading the way to the stairwell.

"I don't think so," you mutter back. Yoongi laughs at your comment. He glances at you over his shoulder, one side of his mouth tugged upwards.

"Not a fan of threesomes?"

"Excuse me—what?" You nearly miss a step thanks to Yoongi's comment, but he just keeps laughing without a care. "Why are you asking me that now of all times?"

"Just making conversation."

"It's none of your business."

"Trying to lighten the mood as well, but you seem to be more pessimistic than I am so that's quite difficult."

Hitting the last step, you huff and attempt to shove your hands into the pockets on your pants, only to realize that you're still wearing your pajama pants.

"Wa-wait, Yoongi, I-I'm still wearing my nightclothes," you stutter, reaching out to grab hold of Yoongi's arm.

"And?"

"I—There's no way I'm going to meet the leader of a gang in my pajamas!" You argue.

"He won't care. I guarantee it."

"But I care."

"Well then, don't?" He suggests, waving his hand through the air as though to dismiss the issue. You drop the topic, either too tired or too nervous to carry on talking about it with Yoongi. The realization of how late it actually is hits when the two of you step outside. The chill in the air is typical, seeing as the season is shifting into winter and the last bits of autumn show in the brown and orange leaves that cling to the few trees outside your apartment building. Subconsciously, you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to block the cold from breezing through your t-shirt to no avail, and follow Yoongi as he leads the way to an unknown place.

This is most likely one of the dumbest decisions you've ever made: following a man you don't know well, who poses a significant threat no doubt (especially because he's carrying a gun), and going to meet the leader of a gang. If your mother could see you now, she would either be disappointed, mortified, or both. Her sweet-spoken mantra, "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil", rings in your head as you stare at Yoongi's leather-clad back, and for a moment, you feel as though you are watching your body move from above. Some sort of atemporal and out of body experience where you see yourself following Yoongi to an unknown place. Maybe, just maybe, it's a sign — something meant to warn you against this path — or you're losing your grip on reality (again). Funny how that seems to be a recurring pattern for you.

If asked to repeat the path you took with Yoongi later, you wouldn't be able to explain anything because you don't feel yourself return to your body until Yoongi has stopped in front of a grungy looking bar. He glances over at you, hand resting on the door handle, and you merely blink back, trying to recall how you got here.

"You good?"

"Yea, I'm okay," you say.

"You're still sure about this? This is the last time I'll ask."

"Yes, I'm certain." You rub your forehead as you speak. Even though you speak with confidence, you're sure that the nervousness shows in your expression, and you can't hide that well. Yoongi doesn't say anything more; instead, he pushes against the door and lets the warm air from inside cascade over the two of you. You follow him in, looking at your surroundings with wide eyes. Despite the grungy appearance of the exterior, the inside is much more put together and clean than you would have guessed, and even with the late hour, there seem to be lots of patrons littering the tables.

You stick close to Yoongi's body as he walks through the bar. The two of you reach the back, close to the bartender, and Yoongi exchanges a discreet nod with the man as you pass him. He keeps pressing forward, through another door, and now you've stepped into a significantly colder room with a single table in it. And there, sitting at that table, one chair empty across from him, is a man. Yoongi doesn't have to tell you who he is, because you know just from looking at him.

Even though he's sitting, you can tell he's tall from his long torso and legs. When he looks over at you, a chill passes through your spine, and you avert your gaze.

"Here she is," Yoongi says and motions at you with his hand.

"Thank you. You can go join Moon outside. He's at the bar counter." Yoongi slides around you and exits, leaving you to stand at the mouth of the room with the man's eyes still lingering on you. "Why don't you come sit down, Miss L/N?"

"Okay…” you mutter. Your feet drag as you approach the table, body feeling heavy under his scrutiny. Once you sit down and meet his eyes, he offers a warm smile, catching you off-guard.

"We'd best get started. I have a lot I want to discuss, which might be a surprise to you. However, I've been looking forward to this meeting for quite some time."

"Wh-what?" You stammer, blinking at the man across from you as he grins.

"Did you think it was all a coincidence?"

...

a/n: woooo! another chapter written! i hope you guys like it, and let me know what you think!! i love hearing from you guys~

edit: heathy thank you for saving my clown ass with that edit i’m big dumb 🤡

consider sending me a ko-fi!!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[baldwin-montclair]

Baldwin’s Nightingale (Part 15)

Characters: Baldwin Montclair/OC

Timeframe: After the S1 Finale, TV Show canon MOSTLY with some S2, Shadow of Night and Book of Life.

Summary: The big day arrives and Alisha finds that the normal wedding jitters may well be justified.

Tag requests: @christi14 @poemfreak306 @pookie-cleary @hofficoffi @stormyheart326 @theshiningc @wonderlander594 @madamquacklemore @thereadersmuse @ateliefloresdaprimavera

The Story So Far

___

The morning had been such a rush of activity and getting ready, Alisha had barely time to panic. Standing in the vestibule of the chapel, waiting, she felt the slowly creeping panic start to set in.

“Woah, some grip!” Nathaniel chuckled at the hold she had on his arm.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Alisha gave him a sheepish look.

“I was kidding,” he assured, giving her hand a comforting pat, “but I can still get you a fake passport and a flight away from here and Montclair if you’ve changed your mind.”

“I haven’t, but thank you,” she took a deep breath, “it’s just stupid performance nerves.”

“You’re a musician.”

“And if all I had to do was play music for everyone in there I’d be fine, public speaking on the other hand.”

The combination of wedding jitters, sneering sisters-in-law, missing Baldwin and whatever was happening with her sudden ability to read Latin had created a constant noise in her mind that she could not quieten.

Their musical cue started up and Alisha took a shaky breath. Nathaniel put his hand over hers on his arm to steady her.

“I can do this.” She whispered to herself as the inner doors opened, revealing her path to the altar and Baldwin, facing away from her as tradition dictated and she could see the tense set of his shoulders.

Gallowglass stood to his side, not bound by the same rule and gave her a smile and an understated bow.

As she grew closer to Baldwin, she noted that his posture softened slightly, still to attention as a soldier but without the tense rigidity.

He had clearly caught her scent.

Still, he didn’t move to look at her when Nathaniel delivered her to his side and took his seat beside Sophie, holding a sleeping Margaret in her arms.

Ysabeau had warned Alisha what to expect. Baldwin’s role in the ceremony was to be as stone-like and stoic as a king and given the separation coupled with the mating bond, his control was most likely severely frayed.

As soon as she placed her hand in his, however, he subtly brushed his thumb across her knuckles. A gesture he’d granted beyond the propriety expected.

The endless swirl of questions and worries seemed to lift from her mind and the nerves he’d sensed were quelled by his decision to put her comfort above maintaining his stony facade.

As soon as the priest began, she knew that her reading proficiency with Latin also extended to the spoken language as well.

She realised that if she focused on the words individually, she had no idea what was being said. Similar to seeing past the script of the letter to the meaning, there seemed to be a connection in her mind she was not aware of, something was translating meaning for her, deciphering unfamiliar collections of letters into...not even English, just understanding.

It terrified her.

Still, she held it together, barely, until the exchanging of rings, and vows, her contribution to the ceremony and tried not to feel too alarmed at the impressed look Baldwin gave her at her recitation of the vows that just the previous night Ysabeau had called ‘sufficient’.

Their kiss was chaste and brief, much less than she needed but definitely more appropriate for the setting and the company.

This was made up for when they arrived at Sept-Tour and he pulled her into a hidden alcove away from the eyes of servants and arriving guests.

It confirmed for Alisha that the restrained contact in the church had been as trying for him as it had been for her.

“My beautiful, brave little nightingale,” he regarded her with a mixture of wonder and admiration when he released her from his kiss.

“Brave?” She questioned breathlessly.

“I know that was not easy for you.”

“Or you,” she reminded, “but it’s done.”

“Still, I am sorry for leaving you here, I would not have done so had it been avoidable.”

“I know,” she gave a reassuring smile and leant up to kiss him again, “ but I did miss you.”

“As did I you, sweetheart,” he sighed, touching his forehead to hers “a few more hours and I’ll have you to myself!”

The last statement seemed more of a reassurance to himself.

“We’ll manage,” she gave him a mischievous look, “and I have a surprise for you, for later.”

“A surprise?” He cocked his head to the side, a look of amusement in his eyes.

“We should go join our wedding celebrations,” she grinned, attempting to make it past him.

Just as she almost made it, she felt his arm slide around her waist and she was pulled against him, her back firmly pressed against his chest.

“Baldwin,” she attempted to reason, as much with herself as him as his lips grazed the skin of her neck, just over her pulse, “this place is full of vampires, and they will be looking for us!”

“I know,” he murmured, “but I have been too long without you and your scent, right here,” he lightly nudged a spot behind her ear with the tip of his nose, “is making it very difficult to care about being discovered.”

“Did the favour not work?” She asked, unable to keep the disappointment in her voice.

“Of course it worked, no one was flayed or dismembered.”

“That’s a relief!”

“Regardless, you will not be far enough from my side for the foreseeable future for that to be a problem.”

“But first,” she tilted her face to look at him, “we still have our wedding reception to get through, then I am all yours!”

“My darling,” he leant down and gently pressed his lips to hers, cupping her face in his hand, “once this is over and we are indeed alone, you will be left in no doubt that you are, in fact, mine!”

The possessiveness of his words made her breath hitch, not helped by the brush of his thumb across her bottom lip and she drew in a shaky breath.

“Guests, vampires, super senses.” She reminded.

The quiet growl of frustration told her he knew she was right.

“As you wish, Madame de Clermont.”

As soon as they emerged, Baldwin stopped and surveyed the room, sensing something.

“Miyako,” he called out to a beautiful - and departing - woman in her mid-twenties, or, she appeared to be.

She stopped and turned back.

“Otōsan,” Baldwin’s daughter gave him a respectful bow.

“Cara,” he smiled, greeting her in the french double cheek kiss tradition, “I am very pleased to see you.”

It was the most unguardedly affectionate she’d seen him act towards a member of his family and it made Alisha’s heart swell.

“I apologise for missing the ceremony, there were,” Miyako paused, “complications.”

Her gaze drifted over Alisha.

“I suppose it is time you were both introduced to one another,” Baldwin admitted with some reticence, “Miyako, this is my wife, Alisha, meet my daughter.”

“Madame.” Miyako bowed.

The greeting was polite, respectful, not cold or passively hostile, as the ones she received from Stasia and Verin.

“Miyako,” Alisha smiled, “it’s great to meet you, Baldwin has such high praise for you.”

“Oh?”

The faintest hint of amusement flickered in the young woman’s eyes as both she and Alisha turned their attention on Baldwin.

“I may have extolled your considerable skill in combat.” He responded, feeling decidedly outnumbered.

“Thank you Papa,” she accepted gracefully, “although much of my ability is as a result of your instruction.”

“Much?” He challenged with good-natured outrage.

“There is something I must discuss with you, but it can keep for a day.” Miyako started, carefully, glancing in Alisha’s direction then back to her father.

“You should both catch up,” Alisha suggested, extricating herself to give them the privacy she sensed Miyako was requesting, “we won’t be needed for some time yet.”

Baldwin looked between his daughter and wife and gave a nod in agreement.

“My office Mimi, I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Otōsan,” she gave him the same head bow and turned her gaze on Alisha, “thank you Madame.”

Alisha wanted to ask the vampire to simply call her by her name, as she had with Christina, but the minefield of vampire customs was still unfamiliar.

She decided that she would ask Baldwin later, if that was appropriate.

“I’m sorry,” Alisha smiled after Miyako left, “that was frickin’ adorable!”

���What was?”

“You! I knew it, total Papa Bear type,” she teased, ignoring his weary sigh, “and it shouldn’t be possible but I think I love you even more now.” She smoothed down his tie.

“Possible or not,” he covered her hand with his on his chest, “I am glad I exceeded your expectations.”

Alisha glanced around the room, realising there was someone missing.

“I don’t see Christina, did you ask her?”

“Of course I did but she declined the invitation, didn’t specify why.”

Alisha frowned before her eyes grew wide.

“Stop,” Baldwin shook his head, placing his hands on her upper arms, “you’re going straight to worry and its not necessary, she’s fine.”

She nodded at his words but her expression was still troubled.

“Alisha, I spoke to her myself yesterday, it was obviously a private matter I wasn’t about to pry into it. Trust me, she’s fine.”

At Baldwin’s words she let out a small exhale of relief.

“Sorry,” she rolled her eyes at herself, “bit of an overreaction.”

“Not at all,” he assured, “I find the fact that you care so much endlessly endearing.”

He pressed a tender kiss to her temple before following after Miyako.

“You met my niece.” Verin stated, making Alisha jump.

“Yes, she seems to be a very competent and self-sufficient young woman.” Alisha answered with confidence.

The first meeting with her step-daughter had gone well and she was not going to allow Verin to spoil that.

“She’s over four hundred, I would be careful not to patronise, given your age.”

“I love your brother, Verin, is that not enough for you?” Alisha asked pointedly.

“No,” she shrugged, “he protects us from all threats and he does so by ruthlessly destroying our enemies. You have bleeding heart written all over you and we cannot afford to show mercy!”

“You think I will stop him acting in the best interests of our family?”

Verin laughed at this but it was a cold, hollow sound.

“Our family is it now?”

“It is, considering the fact that Baldwin saw me fit to join it!”

“Bringing you into the family is the kind of joke I’d imagine someone with his lack of a sense of humour to make!”

“He has a sense of humour!”

“You believe you know him better than I do,” she rolled her eyes, “next you’ll tell me that he can perceive sarcasm!”

“Oh, he can, much better than he seems to,” Alisha argued, “but I wouldn’t worry if you’ve said something in the past you thought you got away with. I’m sure he doesn’t hold grudges.” Alisha noted Nathaniel waving her over to him and Sophie.

“Excuse me, sister!” She gave the vampire her sweetest smile and left to join the witches and other daemons.

Freyja caught her on the way, her expression urgent.

“If you’re going to bait Verin, do not then turn your back on her,” she nodded behind Alisha, “he won’t be there every time.”

Alisha turned to see Gallowglass stand in Verin’s way.

“She started it!” Alisha argued.

“And she could quite easily end it!”

“Would she?”

”Most likely not,” Freyja glanced again at her sister, “but do you wish to test that?”

Alisha shook her head.

“Good,” Freyja gestured to the daemons Alisha was headed for, “go, have fun and smile. I’ll have a talk with my sister!”

Alisha watched Verin stalk off with Freyja following after, Ernst was deep in conversation with Em and Sarah and hadn’t noticed the exchange, most likely used to the family drama.

Baldwin found Miyako in his father’s study, seated in front of the desk, a position he once held but now he was expected on the other side, in Philippe’s chair.

“I cannot locate her, the vampire, Christina Lewis.” Miyako told him as he took his chair.

“Fuck,” he swore after a moment, “where does the trail end?”

“London but I have not yet been able to conduct my own investigation on the ground there yet, I shall go tomorrow-”

“No,” Baldwin replied sharply, “whoever is behind this will not get you too.”

“Were you not convinced that Gerbert was to blame, he is after Madame de Clermont?”

“You can call her Alisha, I know she’d prefer that,” he sighed, “and I believed he was but his purchase of the third fresco property in Venice was simply a means to thwart Knox. Their alliance was always on a shaky ground and when it’s purpose to destroy me failed, so did the ceasefire. Gerbert only acquired the property after Knox showed interest in it.”

“But Guillermo was his creature, was he not?”

“He had no loyalty to anyone but Gerbert did often use him, paying Guillermo handsomely for the service. He was clearly working for someone else when he killed Michael and went after Alisha.”

“Knox?”

“More likely, which is why I want you nowhere near it.”

“If I cannot handle a witch then you did not instruct me well enough.”

“I am in no mood for games cara,” he warned, “if Knox were to harm you I would have to kill him, then how would the congregation stand with the vampires and witches at war?”

“Of course I will not act against your wishes,” she acceded, “but we still do not know the significance of the daemon’s research?”

“We won’t until we look at the drive.”

“You haven’t looked at the data yet?”

“It’s not my place.”

“Papa-“

“Miyako,” he stated in a low tone that invited no prodding, “we have more pressing issues to deal with than the obsessive ramblings of an art historian, finding Christina and-“

“Discovering who killed the orchestra master?”

“Yes.” He sighed.

“Does she know?”

“It’s her wedding day, I think breaking the news that her boss is dead, can wait.”

“Brian Cassidy was found drained two nights ago.”

“I’m aware of the timeline.”

“You are keeping a lot of secrets from your wife.”

“Love, honour and protect, those were my vows. There was nothing in there about full disclosure.” He stated plainly as Gallowglass appeared at the door.

“We have a problem.”

“That seems to be the theme of this day.” Miyako rolled her eyes.

“What is it?” Baldwin asked, shooting a warning look at his daughter.

“One of our tenants, found dead, drained. There’s an intruder on our property.”

Baldwin rose to his feet and left the room, with the expectation that his daughter and nephew follow.

They did.

“Who found him?” He asked as he made his way to the main hall.

“His son, poor bairn’s only seventeen, thought the old man got drunk and lost, told his mother he’d clean him up for the reception. She was at the wedding, he’s in the hall, had to tell his mother her husband wasn’t coming home.”

“Are all our other tenants accounted for?” Baldwin asked bluntly, the commander emerging.

“They’re all in attendance for the reception.”

“Good, then we’re in lockdown, nobody in or out.”

“So we’re hunting?” Gallowglass asked.

“You, me, Freyja, Verin and Stasia will neutralise the threat. Marcus will stay here in case medical treatment is necessary.”

“I can-“ Miyako started.

“You and Alisha will also stay within the walls of Sept Tours.”

“With Ysabeau?” Miyako snorted derisively.

“Yes, with Ysabeau, if she’s within these walls, no-one is getting in!”

Baldwin often surprised Gallowglass, every century or so, with his praise for his step-mother.

“Yes Papa.” Miyako relented, recognising the tone.

“I want everyone ready to go in the next five minutes.” Baldwin ordered Gallowglass and left before receiving an answer.

“Eric, who’d be stupid enough to try this?” Miyako shook her head.

“No idea, but I know that look,” he nodded to the direction Baldwin left, “we’re about to find out.”

Alisha stood when the door to their quarters opened and Baldwin looked up to see her. In the blink of an eye she was in his arms.

“Duty calls, I’m sor-” He started.

She stopped his words with a kiss.

“Don’t apologise, just come back to me.”

“I will.” He promised, pressing a kiss against her temple as he often did, before breaking the contact to retrieve his sword, a gladius, a weapon she recognised from some of Michael’s works.

“Didn’t think vampires used weapons.”

“Old habits die hard.” He explained.

“Then take this.”

Baldwin watched with stunned interest as she lifted the skirts of the dress to her thigh and removed the favour she had worn as a garter.

He placed the sword on the table and took the embroidered fabric from her outstretched hand, only breaking their gaze to read the words embroidered there.

“Bound by my heart to your will,” he recited before looking back up at her, “do you mean this?”

“More now than when I made it.”

“Good,” he exhaled slightly, seemingly expecting a fight from her regarding his orders, “then stay in the fortress, do as Ysabeau says, she will keep you safe. Tell me you understand.” He demanded, wrapping the material of the favour in a spool around his fingers before placing it safely inside his pocket.

“I understand.” She confirmed.

“And?”

“I’ll do as you say, as my lord, my husband,” she lifted the scabbard containing his weapon and held it with both hands, presenting it with a bow of her head, “and head of my family.”

Baldwin took the weapon, deciding that he was going to make the intruder suffer twice as much for keeping him from her for even a second.

“Do not stay in these rooms, it is important to me that you are not alone. Let the people see you, as my representative, speak to them and, if you can, play for them. It always made me feel better and it will help you.”

“Help me?”

“You’re brave but your heart is beating like a drum. You’re afraid but have no reason to be, this is your home now, you are safe here.”

“I know I am, and I know you will be fine too, but worry isn’t logical. When you’re back and safe, I’ll be satisfied.”

“When I return, your satisfaction will be my one goal and responsibility.”

One last kiss and he was gone, leaving her to gather nerves and return to the guests and friends.

———

PART 16

[autumnpleaves]

My friend is homophobic and Im not out to her yet. Other than that, she’s really awesome. What do I do? Am I supposed to stop being her friend??? -C

*stunned silence* 

*sudden release of air* 

Aight, C. You’re in some deep, deep, deep snow right now- 

Let’s see.

First step, do you know where this belief comes from?

Is it like from her parents, religious beliefs, the internet, social media, something? At all? Like coz as humans that socialize and interact, we are constantly being influenced without us knowing, and maybe through understanding the root of your friend’s homophobia. 

This is important, because well, assuming because you say that she’s *really* awesome, that means this friend means *kinda* a lot to you. So in trying to *salvage* this relationship, let’s say you try to reason with your friend. 

Second step, so- you know where the idea came from, what now? 

Well if it’s a religious thing, then that might be a little complicated. As a religious person myself, I kind of understand where people like this might come from. But as we all should remember that the main core and center of say like Christianity, or something (sorry, I can also speak for the Christianity peeps) should be Love and Caring. 

If it’s a family thing, that would be also- complicated. (Realizing this, is really down-heartening honestly, homophobia in general is just... complicated). Usually, people who’s views are affected by like family beliefs would hold on to that belief really tight, like... especially if they are influenced from a really young age. But I do believe that if your friend is willing to keep an open mind, anything is possible. 

Do keep in mind though, that if you want to confront this friend, remain calm. 

Usually, homophobia is caused by lack of information/knowledge on the topic, and so it’s usually surrounded by stereotypes from like media or family. You could try educating yourself on some FAQs and what not. It’s easy to find them online. 

There is a possibility that your friend simply has not have a friend that is part of the LGBTQIAP+ community, and just simply doesn’t understand how a relationship between the same sex or gender might work. That is valid, and remember, that if you do try to challenge this view, it’s not going to change overnight. 

They might be suppressing their own identity, and is simply oppressed and hides in the closet of internal homophobia (not always true, but likely most of the time). 

Maybe try educating them, gently and with compassion. 

No one likes a lecture, just ~maybe~ casually say something like... “Hey, have you ever noticed like children with two moms/dads are as happy as we are-” OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT- Okay, I’m not an expert at imaginary conversations. I do think that maybe if y’all are in like a conservative area, not enough *exposure* to these things may induce beliefs like “They’re disgusting, sinful, etc. etc.”.  

There are like many really interesting and helpful facts out there, such as like- 

Did you know that by normalizing same sex marriages, it can actually save taxpayers money and could boost the economy? Coz like weddings, and this is not a secret, can be like really expensive and by normalizing it or at the very least, like legalizing it would boost the economy and tax and stuff, and would support more jobs for the people out there! So in like a round about way kind of route, it helps :D 

(Lemme know if this is like wrong or whatever, I tried to do my proper research- I’ll cite my sources if you wanna read more) 

Another fact, is that most homosexual relationships are *obviously* not that different from heterosexual ones. Both of those relationships seek long lasting and happy relationships, and well if homosexuals find happiness, joy, and love in another homosexual, then shouldn’t that be a good thing and a celebrated thing? 

Why is marriage a really important thing, you ask? Well from the resources I have collected and my own opinions and thoughts... 

Marriage is essentially kind of like having like a ‘privelage card’ I guess you can say that? I wouldn’t phrase it that way, but from what I read it allows like economic and social support to the couples (from the government?). 

*MOST* married people experience better physical and mental health. Marriage in most places allow couples the tools and the security to build a life together, protect their families, and (according to source) state and federal marriage laws provide a safety net of over 1200 *LEGAL and ECONOMIC PROTECTION* for married couples and their children. 

This is important when visiting the spouse in the hospital, transferring property, and a whole lotta legal stuff that you can read more about online :)  

“Why is this going all the way to marriage? Literally all I asked is about whether or not I should stay friends with this person. :|”

You’re right, but I can’t resist ;) 

XDDD

I’m just giving resources and maybe facts and statistics to back it up, if your friend is that type of person. (Unless it’s a more religious thing, then that’s going to be hard, and you might want to like... I wouldn’t say blackmail? But like read up on your friend’s religion (if she has one) online and how or what the religion says about such topics. (Yes, I am well aware there are *LOADS* online going the opposite way [I am disappointed to see it, but *shrugs*] find the ones where they *DO* support LGBTQIAP+ folks :)) ) 

I’m sorry that this is kinda long, and all. I just hope everything goes well. 

Just a quick side note-

If you feel unsafe or like doubtful on whether or not you should come out to someone (your friend in this context-) I think it’s best you Don’t. 

I’m not saying you should never, but your friend could out you and blackmail or bully you, and that is not fun. 

Especially since you know that she is has homophobic ideas, I advise you not to touch that coming out closet yet. Feels annoying and sad, I get it. But it’s unsafe and I don’t think it’ll end well. 

If after all this, your friend still doesn’t understand or can’t change her ideas (give it a few days, really. Nothing, especially personalities, ideas, nor beliefs, could change overnight) 

Then the best way to do it, is end that friendship over there. She’s a great friend, but being a homophobe, which clearly and obviously concerns your identity as well, is not a nice thing. You’ll constantly feel pressured and I think eventually, in a friendship where you can’t be honest or anything with your friend, it’s not going to work out for long and you’re going to ruin your mental health :) 

I hope this helps, canon. I really hope it does. And best of luck and wishes to you. Feel free to reach out for more info/advice or anything at all. I’ll do my best to help ^-^

Sources

https://metro.co.uk/2019/11/28/how-to-deal-with-a-homophobic-friend-11233282/

https://family.lovetoknow.com/how-deal-being-homophobic-family

http://www.whymarriagematters.org/pages/just-the-facts-q-and-a

https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn/sexual-orientation/sexual-orientation/what-homophobia

https://medium.com/james-finn/how-to-help-a-friend-recover-from-homophobic-self-loathing-79b653925e6

https://www.apa.org/topics/divorce/same-sex-marriage

https://www.aljazeera.com/ajimpact/economic-impact-sex-marriage-190625232031095.html

[thecompostpile]

Ice Cream Essay 5- Fuck Cops Eat Ice Cream

It was just something a friend told me in passing. They had worked at an ice cream shop one summer just a way to make a little money to buy weed and gas. Working with ice cream, from what I’ve heard, isn’t a very glamorous job but I imagine there are worse summer jobs. That will be a conversation for another time. This story goes to a time we were just hanging out smoking and shooting the shit. He told me a story of why his day had been crummy. 

“I made this cop an ice cream cone and he just walked out with it. Didn’t pay, didn’t tip nothing.” 

“Wait no way” 

“Yeah it was so fuckong weird. He didn’t even ask if it was free he just walked out with it.” 

That was probably the better part of a decade ago and I don’t think about this story a lot. At the time it was important to me though. I was in the middle of getting a political science degree from a liberal arts college in upstate Connecticut and it was being broken down in front of me why cops were bad. Here was another small but perfect example of why cops scared the ever living shit out of me. Cops have no shame. If they want ice cream they literally just take the ice cream and walk out. And what are you supposed to do? Call  the cops. 

The police force in this country is completely unchecked. It’s disgusting. A mad dog so insane with hate and rabies it doesn’t remember cuddling with anyone on the couch it only wants to bite anyone that comes near it right in the leg. This is the case for as long as I have been politically conscious but it has been happening much longer than that. I was in college when Freddy Gray happened, I had been in a jail cell around the same time police murdered Sandra Bland. I argued in my class about how Eric Garner being choked out on the street was unconstitutional with a conservative freshmen who I would bullshit with. His argument still sticks in my brain. 

“He was murdered for selling cigarettes on the side of the street.”

“Well it is illegal.” 

That’s what the other side of this thinks. He was a smart kid in a sense that he understood things and could speak elegantly. BUT how fucking stupid do you need to be to say that. Is it even stupidity or is it just pure cold hearted hatred. The man was choked out on the side of the street. I’ve wandered off here though. I am trying to keep the ever consistent theme of fuck cops and fuck every bootlicking chump that likes cops. 

Let’s bring this back to ice cream. So this pig just thought it was okay to walk into an ice cream shop, one that he was supposed to both “serve and protect”. Let’s say he ordered a hot fudge sundae with some nuts, whip cream, a cherry. He’s a fat cop obviously with a stupid 90s tv dad walrus mustache. He’s a slob so some of the hot fudge dribbles onto his chin while he takes the first bite. Then on his heels he just turns and slides out whistling while he doesn’t hold the door for a lady with a stroller. 

A cop in my town starts off at 59,000 dollars a year so he certainly has the money to pay for this ice cream. But you know maybe he comes in a lot right, he has something worked out with the dipshit owner who licks boots as much as he licks ice cream. To not even tip for your free ice cream though is so fucked up. 

Note: tip at least a buck for your ice cream people. More if you can. 

It was free, you paid nothing for it. At the very least acknowledge  the labor that went into it. Cops aren’t workers though. They are the state mandated protection of only rich white people and stolen property. We absolutely need to abolish the entire police force. There is no other option; it is rotten to its core.

Now let us just quickly think of what would happen if that police officer was in the store and a black man did the same thing, walked out with ice cream for free. There is a highly likely chance the black man would be shot. Black men have been shot for much less in this country. At the very least the man could be arrested, placed in jail and lose his right to vote once out. What makes this cop special that he is allowed to break the law.

There is a system behind it too. The Frank Capra ideals of an old timey america. The 50s when you had the milk dropped off, took a date for an egg cream at the drugstore, hot rods and segregated schools. Cracking a joke with your high school buddy who was one of the cops in town but never did much but twirl his baton around and whistle. Then if something surprising would happen his eyes would pop out of his head. You know the America everyone loved. Jimmy Stewart is there laughing it up with someone he hasn’t seen in a while. You only feel that way because you aren’t Emmit Till though. 

There is this patriotic ideals behind loving these dumb moron cops. It could come from wearing it like a badge of honor that you are not considered a criminal to them. That is an optimistic outlook though when the real answer is more than likely just racism. 

 How else could a man just grab an ice cream and pretend it was free to him. Think of the other things this person must be able to do with his god complex given to him because of a badge. How any stupid fucking bully is able to go to school for six minutes, promise to beat up and harass black people and other people of color to keep a billion dollar free labor industrial prison system going, can just put on a ugly light blue button up shirt and some shinny badges that mean nothing and now they think they can do anything they want. 

Some stupid asshole was just farting up his police car by himself and laughing is bored enough to harass a black women with a tail light out. When she is tired and sick of his obvious bullshit that she has been aware of her entire life, he is too dumb to realize that his wife is mad because he forgot to flush his turd down the toilet. Then when he doesn’t like her response he can arrest her. What scares me about police videos is how powerless it looks. There is no arguing with these gooey cupcake batter mother fuckers. They do whatever they want. They walk in order ice cream and walk out without paying for it. 

This becomes even more terrifying when you see they are killing people on the streets. They are killing children on the streets. They are tear gassing protestors. Shooting rubber bullets at journalists. That same cop who stole ice cream, is fine using his badge and light blue shirt to walk out with free ice cream, breaking the own rules set by capitalism he was set to enforce. Obviously he has on reason for breaking other rules set up by capitalism. He has no rules he will do whatever he wants. Kill, beat and humiliate anyone he wants. Take whatever he wants and walk out a free man, ice cream in hand, hot fudge on his chin. 

[jarienn972]

A Simple Spell - Chapter Six

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

I'm sorry that I’m a tiny bit late getting this latest chapter of my @cssns story finished. Between celebrating my youngest's birthday and working tons of extra hours in preparation for the uncertainty of Hurricane Dorian, I got a little behind with writing. I've got this all ready to go now and this chapter will find Emma coming off the high of her date with Killian while learning some news that just might leave her a little shaken.

As always, thanks again to all of those who make this event possible!  Thank you to my beta reader, @lassluna for helping me patch some of the little holes and to @cocohook38 for the incredible artwork displayed in my header!

Read from the beginning on Tumblr: One  Two  Three  Four  Five   AO3 FF.net

Emma probably could have floated home that night since her spirits were soaring so high. As she opened the door to the loft, her cheeks were aching from smiling so much during her drive and elation carried her right through the doorway. She unceremoniously tossed her coat and clutch onto the kitchen island as she caught sight of the couple sitting on the living room loveseat staring at her.

"I really need to get a place of my own," she muttered when she saw Mary Margaret's giddy grin and her brother's disapproving scowl.

"So - how was it?" Mary Margaret eagerly inquired, leaning forward in anticipation. "You're practically beaming so it must have been good…"

"I had a great evening," Emma replied, unsure how much detail she was willing to share with her brother and his wife.

"Who were you out with tonight?" David asked in full, overly-protective big brother mode. "Anyone I know?"

"No, it actually wasn't anyone you know," Emma assured him as she yanked off the elastic band that was holding her hair back, allowing her long locks to tumble free over her shoulders.

"How's that possible? I know just about everyone in this town…" David countered skeptically. His sister had gone out with a stranger?

"He's visiting from out of town," Emma stated, trying to keep David's skepticism from spoiling her mood.

"Out of town?" David glared. "You went out on a date with a complete stranger?"

"Oh, for goodness sake, David," Mary Margaret interjected, smacking him on the knee. "She's a grown woman - and a Sheriff's deputy. What exactly are you worried about?"

"I'd just rather know who my little sister is getting involved with," David responded, sounding more like a dad with every statement he made.

"I think I'm enough of a big girl to take care of myself," Emma spoke up defensively. "But if you must know, he wasn't a complete stranger. I'd met him a couple of days ago on a case."

"A case?" David struggled to recall what assignments he'd handed out to his sister this week and only one possibility came to mind. "You mean that drunken sailor down at the harbor?"

"Yes, that case, but not with the drunken sailor. My date was with the ship's captain and he was actually quite the gentleman. If I wasn't working tomorrow, I think I could have spent all night talking to him…"

"Talking?" he scoffed, not believing that at all.

"Yes, David - talking," Emma insisted, shaking her head in disgust. "And since you aren't going to believe me anyway, I'm going to head to bed and then tomorrow morning, I'm going to start planning another date with Captain Jones."

"Ooh, is that his name?" Mary Margaret jumped in, raising a hand to shush David from arguing any further.

"Yeah, Killian Jones, Captain of the Jolly Roger," Emma told her sister-in-law.

"Sounds like a pirate ship name…," David mumbled.

"Oh hush," Mary Margaret warned her husband. "Your sister had a great evening and doesn't need you souring it for her. You haven't even met this man so don't judge."

"Thank you, Mary Margaret," Emma smiled appreciatively at her defender. "But like I said, it is late and I'm heading up to bed. I wouldn't dare be late for work tomorrow, but I swear, if anything involves a farm again, I'm dragging Graham with me so he can do all the stomping through the mud this time."

**********

Still a little peeved with her brother by the time morning rolled around, Emma was glad to take the Sheriff's cruiser out on the day's first patrol. Alone in the car, she had some much needed time to think - well, maybe just a little too much time.

She still couldn't think about Killian Jones without a smile creeping across her face. The man was definitely the complete package - handsome, well-educated and obviously well-traveled. But for whatever reason, it was that well-traveled part that was giving her second thoughts. Could she really enter into and sustain a relationship with someone who was constantly sailing in and out of her life? Would she be able to trust him or would she end up being just his girl in this port? Her only long term relationship experience was with a man who couldn't go two weeks before he'd started cheating - although Killian certainly seemed much higher class than Neal ever would be.

On the other hand, there was Walsh. He wasn't nearly as exciting as the dashing Captain Jones, but he was familiar. He was based out of Boston, only a couple of hours away, so maybe he was the safer choice? While their relationship hadn't lasted before, it was probably because of the Neal-sized baggage she'd brought in to it. There was something to be said about slipping back into their cozy conversation, yet at the same time, she couldn't help but think about how easily she'd also been able to chat with Jones.

Ugh, maybe this wasn't the best time to be contemplating her love life, she thought as she made her third pass down Main Street. Trying to distract herself, she watched the usual stream of locals filing in and out of Granny's diner and noted lots of people she recognized strolling along the sidewalks. There were a handful of faces she didn't know, but they were likely residents who lived on the outskirts of town who didn't venture into town often.

It was only as she drove past Mr. Gold's pawn shop that something in her subconscious urged her to make a U-turn at the next intersection. She parked the cruiser at the curb outside of the little shop and stepped out. She'd only been inside the store once or twice since she'd arrived in Storybrooke but she had met the Golds a few times. Mr. Gold ran the pawn shop business (and probably a few other side businesses of questionable legality) and his wife, Belle, was the town librarian.

A small bell attached to the doorknob announced her arrival as she pushed the shop door open and passed through the entrance. The store's interior was every bit as eclectic - and every bit as creepy - as she'd remembered. Knickknacks and assorted trinkets were everywhere, inside glass cases, displayed on shelving or even hanging from the ceiling. Some of these were decidedly more macabre than others. Honestly, who keeps a human hand in a damned glass jar?

There wasn't anyone visible behind the counter or the ancient cash register that sat atop it as she made her way into the center of the shop, still not entirely sure of what had possessed her to come in.

"Good morning, Deputy Swan," a voice resounded from somewhere out of her view. The greeting was then followed by the rustling of wooden beads which hung in strips as a curtain dividing the shop from the private office beyond. A diminutive man with shoulder length grey hair wearing an impeccable dark wool suit appeared in the same doorway. "What can I do for you?"

"Uh, hello…," she stammered, mentally debating whether she should just turn around and return to the car, but she held her ground. "A mutual friend of ours sorta suggested that you might be a good source to ask about my mother…"

"Mutual friend?" He didn't even attempt to disguise his confusion.

"Walsh Gibbons," she replied, expecting more than his blank expression.

"Wouldn't exactly call him a friend," Gold stated. "We've done business together, but that's all."

"Oh," she said dejectedly. "He made it sound as though you knew each other well. I guess this was a wasted trip… Sorry to bother you."

"I have known Mr. Gibbons for a very long time, but we aren't more than acquaintances. We don't exchange holiday cards or do we invite each over to our homes. Strictly business, that's it…"

"I see…," Emma whispered under her breath as she turned towards the exit before she made a bigger fool of herself.

"Gibbons was correct in that I did know your mother though." Gold's words stopped her in her tracks and regained her curiosity. "You're Robert and Ava Nolan's daughter. I wasn't particularly close with your parents but we did know each other and I may be able to be of some assistance to you."

"I guess I was hoping that you might have some insight as to why she left Storybrooke," Emma explained as she approached the glass counter. My brother and most everyone else I know were all too young to remember and I haven't found much about her in the archives."

"There aren't many of us left from that era. Your mother was a bit of a free spirit, if I recall. She was often in opposition to others here about the town's direction. She had quite the independent spirit for a very long time, but then one day, the fire just went out of her."

"Was that around the time she left?"

"No - this was a few years earlier. She was merely a shell of her former self by the time she left Storybrooke."

Emma reminisced about the woman who'd raised her and not much was making sense. "But you don't know the reason she left?"

"Her reasons were her reasons, dearie," he stated with a shrug of his shoulders. "No one pushed her away and she would have been welcomed back with open arms had she chosen to return, but she never did."

"Considering she grew up here, sometimes it really seems like no one really knew my mother…"

"I do seem to recall that she brought a few items in to sell a few days before she left town," Gold dodged her unasked question by changing the subject. "I believe that some of those things might still be here as they weren't really items that would sell... But, at the time, she seemed so desperate…"

"That was more than twenty years ago," she reminded him, her voice heavy with skepticism as the shopkeeper made his way over to an antique oak cabinet and tugged open an ornately carved door. Inside, Emma spied a hodgepodge of objects - books, jewelry and was that an animal skull? "You really think you have stuff that belonged to my mother after all of these years?"

"Yes - here," he replied, lifting two dusty books that resembled those inside Regina's vault and a rectangular box that was just slightly larger than one of the books. "These were hers. Not much of a market for these little things…"

"What are those?" Emma queried, her interest suddenly piqued by the mere notion that these long, lost objects had belonged to her mother.

"For the right price, you can find out," he stated with a greedy, almost sinister grin widening across his face.

"The right price? Seriously?" she asked indignantly. This was a new low…

"I'm a simple businessman, Deputy. The objects were sold to me and if you would like to acquire them, you'll need to purchase them."

"How much?"

"Let's see…," he stalled, quite intentionally. "Perhaps we can strike a deal?"

"A deal? For what?"

"I'm aware that you are a member of Regina's current coven. We had a disagreement a while back and amidst our detente, she never returned a certain item that belongs to me."

"And I suppose you want me to get it for you?"

"If you would be so kind. Bring it to me and your mother's belongings are yours."

"Fine. What exactly am I asking Regina to return?"

"It's an old potion book that once belonged to a great alchemist. It is bound in royal blue leather and is entitled Potions of the Modern World."

"And that's it? I bring you the book and I get my mother's stuff?"

"Do we have a deal?" Gold asked eagerly.

"We have a deal. Any idea where Regina might be keeping your book?"

"Probably in her vault. She's warded the building against me so I can't go look for myself."

"Okay, I'll be there tonight so I'll look for it."

"Wonderful. 'Tis a pleasure doing business with you, Deputy."

"We'll see," she scoffed, hoping she could find his damned book quickly and without interference from the Mills sisters. "Just what sort of disagreement did you have that caused you to quit the coven?"

"Let's just say that we took a differing interpretation of things. Keep this in mind, dearie - not all in Storybrooke is what you might think."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Gold merely grinned and bid her adieu, leaving her contemplating his statement for the remainder of the day.

**********

By the time the sun set that evening, Emma's thoughts still weren't any clearer than they'd been that morning. She'd walked out of that pawn shop feeling slightly dumbfounded and utterly confused. Now, as she walked across the cemetery to the mausoleum, she was still trying to make sense of Gold's cryptic statement. What had the old man meant with his warning?

Twilight was making the graveyard shadows darken as the coven awaited the rise of the full moon at 8:27PM. Emma knew that Regina and Zelena were preparing some sort of elaborate ritual to mark the occasion but with so much on her mind, she wasn't thinking about rituals and spells - well, not the ones that the Mills had in mind at least. She found the sisters setting up a circle of lanterns in a grassy clearing behind the mausoleum and in the center of that circle was a carefully arranged pile of firewood that left Emma convinced there must be a cauldron around here somewhere. Cauldron or not, she was relieved to find the Mills sisters distracted so she would have some time to search for Mr. Gold's missing potion book. She'd rather not be caught poking around the vault hunting for it and have them start asking her questions about what she was looking for. Of course, there was always the possibility that she'd have to break down and ask Regina about it anyway, but she'd rather that option be a last resort. She had to be able to locate it on her own.

She managed to slip into the vault and down the staircase without drawing the attention of either Regina or Zelena and found only Ruby downstairs in the chamber, seated cross-legged on the floor with a bright, crimson cape draped across her lap. The waitress' face lit up the moment she spied Emma - who had absolutely no doubt about what Ruby was going to ask.

"Emma! I'm sooo happy to see you…" Ruby greeted her with a huge, expectant smile. Yeah, she was going to ask about Walsh…

"Hi, Ruby," Emma reciprocated the welcome, returning a far more half-hearted smile though. She really didn't have time to engage in a discussion about the man who'd met her for breakfast so she tried to dodge it with a little small talk as she perused the stacks and shelves of books. "You ready for this ritual tonight?"

"You mean that full moon ritual?" Ruby queried with a shake of her head. "Not me. I'm staying right down here until they're done. The full moon kinda does strange things to me…"

"It does?" Emma asked her friend quizzically. "Why did you come out tonight then?"

"You know exactly why - to ask you about your handsome friend who you were talking to at the diner yesterday…" she stated exuberantly. "You need to spill the details, sister…"

Yeah, this was exactly the conversation she didn't want to have right now. "Walsh is just an old friend from Boston and yes - before you even ask - we did date for a while. He's in town for a few days and we agreed to have dinner."

"Ah - rekindling the old flame?"

"That I don't know…," Emma admitted truthfully. "We met for dinner the other night and we might get together again tomorrow, but…"

"But what?" Ruby wondered. "He's not married, is he?"

"No, he's not married," Emma chuckled nervously, trying to focus on the rows of books before her, not this ridiculous conversation. She needed to find Gold's book and get the hell out of here, but she knew Ruby would never be pacified so easily.

"If he isn't married, what's the problem?" Ruby pressed. "He sure looks like a juicy catch…"

"It's sorta complicated…," Emma replied, immediately regretting her choice of wording.

"Complicated?" A broad, knowing smirk curled Ruby's lips and the words Emma was dreading blurted out of her friend's mouth. "Oh my god, Emma - there's another guy, isn't there?"

And there it was - the precise dilemma that Emma hadn't wanted to make public just yet. She could try to deny it, but Ruby would be all over her and if the truth came out elsewhere, it'd be more damaging than just telling her friend.

"Alright, alright… There might be…," Emma told her. "Can we not broadcast it just yet though?"

Ruby slid closer to the bookshelf. "Ooh, what does the other one look like?" she continued to grill Emma, but at least her voice was a whisper this time. "Tall, dark and handsome or fair and fine?"

Emma shook her head and lowered it in defeat. "Dark, windswept hair, incredible blue eyes and the deepest, sexiest, accented voice that would absolutely make you melt..."

"Girl, you are going to have to give me more than that!" Ruby exclaimed.

"Maybe later," Emma offered. "I just don't really want anyone knowing about my love life just yet…"

"Okay, I get it," Ruby replied with a wink. "We can have a little girl talk later?"

"If we don't get done with these full moon rituals too late tonight," Emma gave her a vague agreement, not wanting to divert too much of her attention from the hunt for Gold's damned potion book. Regina and Zelena would be finished setting up in the cleaning soon so it was time to redouble her efforts.

She tried to remain nonchalant about her search. Just browsing the shelves while waiting. That's all she was doing and that's all she wanted it to look like. Casual. Not suspicious at all - at least until she actually found the title she was hunting for. She spied the faded blue leather spine peeking out from amongst the other volumes on the very top shelf and the title, Potions for the Modern World, spelled out in worn, slivered block lettering. It was just tantalizingly out of her reach though. How was she supposed to get it down?

Her eyes darted fervently around the chamber looking for a step stool or a chair that wouldn't collapse beneath her weight if she were to stand atop it. She finally located a three-legged stool beneath the potion table that appeared sturdy enough but all of this was going to draw more of Ruby's attention. Not seeing any other way, Emma pushed the stool out from beneath the table using the toe of her boot. Once it was in reach, she swooped it up and brought it over to the towering bookshelves.

"Whatcha doing, Em?" Ruby asked curiously, just as Emma had expected.

"Just saw a book title that looked interesting…," Emma responded dismissively as she positioned the stool in front of the section she wanted. "And of course, it has to be all the way on the top…"

She hopped up onto the stool, hanging on to the thick wooden center beam of the built-in shelving unit with her right hand as she stretched her left hand towards the volume. She could just get her fingertips on it, working it to the edge of the shelf little by little in hopes of getting a better grip - just a tiny bit too close to that edge.

Emma cursed under her breath as the book tumbled to the floor, landing page-side down with a thud.

"I'll get that for you," Ruby offered as Emma stepped off of the stool. She scooped up the fallen book and inspected it for damage before passing it to Emma. "It looks in good shape," she continued as she handed the book off, but she noticed that there were some loose pages still littering the floor of the vault. Ruby stooped to gather up the remaining items, finding a couple of folded letters or notes and one very faded photograph. "I think these fell out though…"

"Those came out of the book?" Emma questioned.

"I'm pretty sure they did," Ruby replied. "There wasn't anything on the floor before the book landed here. These must have been shoved inside it somewhere."

"I guess we'd better put them back inside then," Emma said as Ruby placed the assorted items into her hand. She'd fully intended to put them all back into the book before returning it to Mr. Gold but Emma simply couldn't resist taking a peek at that lone photograph first.

It was an old color image of two young girls who were wearing clothing that seemingly dated the photograph to the late 1950s or early 1960s. On the left, a taller, dark haired girl was pictured standing with her arm wrapped around the younger, fairer haired girl on the right hand side. Their smiling faces were difficult to make out in the faded photo but Emma sensed something familiar about them.

"Cute kids," Ruby commented from over Emma's shoulder. Emma hadn't even noticed her standing there as she'd stared at the photograph. "Wonder who they are…"

"I've no idea, but I swear, they look familiar to me…"

"You know…," Ruby began, squinting at the image. "The little girl on the right sorta looks like you…"

And it was as though that flashbulb had gone off in Emma's head right then and there as she suddenly realized whose image had transfixed her - she was looking at a photograph of her own mother as a young child.

"Ruby - I think that's my mom," Emma stated in a stunned, disbelieving voice.

"Is there anything written on the photo?" Ruby wondered, hoping there might be something to answer more of their questions.

Emma flipped the photo over and found that there was a handwritten note in black ink. "It says Cora and Ava, 1964."

"Ava? Wasn't that your mother's name?" Ruby queried, the mystery growing deeper by the moment.

"Yeah, it was…," Emma answered, her eyes still fixed on the image from decades ago.

"And Cora?" Ruby continued. "I think that was Regina and Zelena's mom's name, wasn't it?"

"Uh, yeah… I believe so… I didn't know they were friends, but I guess it's a small town after all… Plus, it was probably even smaller back in the 1960s."

"Maybe there's something in those notes that explains more?" Ruby wondered, anxious to get more information.

"I don't think we should be reading those…," Emma said, not really sure it was right to invade the privacy of whomever had written or received those letters.

"Come on, Emma… Who's going to know?"

"Okay, but I'm blaming you if anyone asks," Emma caved as she set the book atop the stool and began unfolding the first of the delicate, handwritten letters. The brittle paper looked as though it had once been a baby blue hue, but portions had yellowed to take on a much more greenish tint. The blue ink had run in places and faded away entirely in others leaving the note barely legible, but Emma was striving to read as much as she could. "My dearest daughters, I'm so proud to see your progress! One day, I know that you will be the most powerful witches in all of the realms and we'll defeat the prophecy. Cora, you have done such an amazing job of tutoring your younger sister, and Ava, my darling, you've proven to be such a good little student…" Emma paused there, most of the remainder of the letter illegible, but mostly due to her eyes welling with tears. "That's all I can read," her voice cracked with emotion as the implication of what she'd just read sunk in. "But... my mother was Cora's little sister?"

[nellie-elizabeth]

The Handmaid's Tale: Household (3x06)

This episode was... well, it was something, alright.

Cons:

I really did like it, just like I've liked every episode of this show. It was powerful and well-made. But I will admit, for the first time in this very symbolism-heavy show, I was a little put off by how much symbolism there was in D.C. Like, I get it... this was the capital of the USA, and now it's under Gilead's control. It's supposed to be this terrifying dichotomy between the former "land of the free" and what we have now. But the contrast didn't quite work because we know it's not a matter of black and white here. It's usually a lot more of a gradual slope. This was maybe an example of less being more. We have the mouth rings for the Handmaids, which is obviously chilling but also a little bit impractical... how do they eat? We have that obnoxious shot of June standing in front of a statue so it looks like she has wings. What is this, Game of Thrones? Those shots are certainly artistically cool to look at, but it's putting things on a bit thick, don't you think? Same with the shot of the Lincoln Memorial with the top of it blown off. Heavy-handed comparisons between slavery in the U.S. and slavery in Gilead are all well and good, but we have to admit that the way race is handled on this show is clumsy at best, so... not sure they want to draw such stark attention to themselves there.

I'm obviously reserving judgment about Nick, because like everything else in this show, there are complexities there. He seems to have tried to help negotiate with the Swiss, but maybe he chickened out, or they wouldn't accept his information, or he wasn't willing to go far enough... and then we get the revelation that he was part of the "holy crusade" that brought about Gilead in the first place. This is brand new information to June, and to the audience as well. The thing is... it doesn't quite track with Nick as a character thus far. If he was an opportunist who, whether he believed in the system or not, decided to keep his head down and accept his fate, then why was he involved in the resistance, even before he fell in love with June? And if he was forced into all of his actions, and has always been a rebel at heart, why is he stopping now? I don't think Nick's characterization thus far is a problem for the show, or at least not a problem that they can't easily rectify. It's just a little unclear to me right now exactly where they're going with this, and I'm starting to get nervous that I won't like the end result.

Pros:

There was one piece of overwrought symbolism that absolutely worked for me and knocked me on my ass, and that was the sight of the Washington Monument turned into a giant cross. I think the reason that this worked better for me than some of the other D.C. imagery was that it was about re-purposing and distorting the meaning of an existing piece of art, instead of just destroying it. Gilead has left the rubble of the Lincoln Memorial there for all to see. They're not trying to hide the fact that they destroyed something. But with the Monument... they didn't shear it in half, or knock it over and leave it lying there... they built from it. They warped and twisted it, and if you didn't know what the Washington Monument was, you'd never know there had been anything different there before. That's the chilling thing to me. Warping history, erasing the past, so that there could conceivably be a future, not so distant, where nobody alive remembers things the way they were.

As always, I want to discuss Serena. For the past couple of reviews I've been noting how interesting it is to have a performance so well done that you feel a bit of sympathy for Serena's plight, despite her despicable actions. This episode continues that thread. Serena Joy really is one of the most interesting villains I've ever seen on any TV show. The moment I want to focus on is when Mrs. Winslow tells Serena that she liked her book. This is taboo, since of course the women aren't allowed to read. But it is also a stark and important reminder that Serena helped to shape this world. I'm not saying it makes her culpable for everything, but she was an evangelical Christian extremist who wrote a book about how women were meant to stay in the home and take care of the children. She did that, and the result is plain to see.

Mrs. Winslow was fascinating to me as well, because she thanks Serena for helping to change her life - she used to work at a law firm, and she and her husband had no time for a family. But look at them now! Six children, and they still have a Handmaid. The privileges of rank. That's an important point to make here - Commander and Mrs. Winslow are both seemingly a bit more casual and down-to-earth than a lot of the other Comamanders and Wives we've seen. They have openly affectionate and goofy relationships with their genuinely happy children. They offer their first names to their guests. Mrs. Winslow hugs Serena and hands her a baby when first meeting her. It's all quite... normal. It reminds me that oppressive systems do not oppress equally - that if you're in a position of power, even as a member of the oppressed class (women), you are given more leeway. I as a white woman still have to deal with the effects of sexism on my day-to-day life, but I have the privileges granted by my whiteness and many other privileges besides.

We should also talk about Fred Waterford. He's such a weak-willed man. He's slimy and annoying and only scary because of the context of this society. As a man, he has so much power. As Fred Waterford, he doesn't know how to actually properly take advantage of that. I think you can see that in how he interacts with Commander Winslow. He's just so desperate for a chance to improve his prospects, and his brown-nosing is really pathetic. I think Fred Waterford is just as interesting as Serena in some ways, although the type of villainy is very different. You don't get the sense that he really cares all that much about Nichole, in the long run. He wants to leverage a personal tragedy for professional gain, and despite some moments of sentimental bonding between husband and wife, I'm not sure Fred and Serena are ever going to repair any sort of healthy partnership... that is, if they even had one to begin with.

To continue the trend of interesting villains... we see that Aunt Lydia is very shaken by what she sees in D.C. I liked the moment when June asks her if she wants them all to be silenced, and Lydia immediately says that she does not. Lydia is one of the more terrifying figures on this show, because unlike Fred, who I really do believe to be just an opportunist, Aunt Lydia seems to have a genuine desire to help people. Her harshness with the Handmaids is in some way an attempt to protect them from even worse punishment. That excuse is flimsy and does not hold up under even the smallest amount of pressure, but it makes for a really complicated portrait of this woman, who could beat Janine one week, and then be genuinely sympathetic to June, and be horrified by the oppression she sees around her. Again, like with Serena, just because I can understand and untangle some of her twisted motivations, doesn't mean I'm on her side or that I forgive her for her monstrous actions.

I liked the idea of the Swiss being neutral negotiators here, because it's another chance to get some hints about world politics. Gilead is enough of a military threat that Canada doesn't want to provoke conflict. And yet Canada has been offering asylum to refugees from Gilead. We know that the gender politics of Gilead seem to be restricted to just Gilead, because we've seen women in positions of leadership in every other country we've interacted with. I'm so interested in how the rest of the world reacts and responds to Gilead. It's sort of a chilling reminder of how much power the United States has, that other countries kind of have to let us do whatever we want, in a really messed up way. When I think about the endgame of this show, of how it's all going to wind up, really the only thing I can imagine is a widening of the scope - does this show end when Gilead is destroyed and balance starts to come back to the world? What does that look like? I don't know, but I want to find out.

So that's that - again, a wonderful episode of a complicated, difficult television show. I had some qualms about the over-abundance of symbolism, because I guess even this show can go too far sometimes. But still... this was great!

8/10