#proposes broaching the details anyway

[lovemychoices]

The Lost Prince - TRR AU [Liam x MC] Mini Series - Chapter 4

After being married for three years and unable to produce an heir, Liam and Riley are about to give up when Liam gets an unexpected news that changes his life forever.

Genre : Romance, Drama

*THIS SERIES PRACTICALLY THROWS CANON OUT THE WINDOW* YEET!YEET!

Characters except my OCs belong to Pixelberry, I am just borrowing them

Word count : 2k ++ ish.

Chapter Summary: 6 months later

A/N : One more chapter to go and then an epilogue! Sorry I couldn’t put the keep reading option since I’m posting via phone. Anyways enjoy.

WARNINGS : GUN VIOLENCE AND CHARACTER DEATH

Warning : I’m rating this PG18 cause there will probably be PG18 stuff that’s going to happen in future chapters. So if you read this series you acknowledge that you are 18 and above.

Catch up with other chapters HERE

6 months later...

The sound of the bustling staff parade through the halls of the Cordonian palace as they get ready for what was going to be a memorable day for the country. Liam sat in his office going through some proposals that required his attention before he had to get ready for tomorrow's big event and he was excited because it’s going to be Theon’s official debut as the crown prince of Cordonia.

When they first brought Theon to Cordonia six months ago, the press would not stop hounding them. Apparently someone tipped them regarding the King returning to Cordonia with his illegitimate son. Between retaking the paternity test as demanded by half the council and the couple trying to help Theon adjust to his new home, things weren’t as easy as they thought or at least it wasn’t at first. Luckily Theon adjusted quickly to his new life, he began to grow on Riley the more time they spent together and loved him like he was her own son.

4 months ago..

Riley sat in front of the dresser putting on her moisturizer, she smiled as she saw her husband's reflection in the mirror as he entered the room. “Is he finally asleep?”

“Yes, we didn’t even make it halfway through the story.” Liam replied, walking up to his wife giving her a kiss on the forehead. Riley lets out a soft giggle. “He must be tired from our picnic by the lake this afternoon, we had quite the adventure.”

Liam took her hand and kneels beside her, his head tilted upwards, eyes gazing into hers an adoring expression on his face. “Thank you, Riley.”

“You don’t have to thank me Liam, I love spending time with Theon.” She replied with a genuine smile.

Liam shook his head. “It's not just that, it’s for everything else. You’ve been so supportive of Theon and of me. I know it’s not easy helping raise someone else’s son.”

“To be honest Liam, I was afraid at first. I didn’t want to make Theon think that I was replacing his mother. I was afraid he might hate me because of that but it’s quite the opposite, he is a very sweet and kind boy just like his father. And I love him just as much as I love you.”

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that and I think Theon cares about you too. He wouldn’t stop going on about his time with you today.” He beams. “We’re both lucky to have you Riley.” Riley gave Liam a thoughtful look before broaching a subject that’s been on her mind for quite some time. “About Theon, I know we never talked about it because you probably just wanted to spare my feelings but I think you should speak with the council and declare Theon as your legitimate heir and the official crown prince of Cordonia.”

Liam’s expression is somewhere between surprise and joy. “Riley, I don’t know what to say. Are you sure about this? But what if we have a child someday?” Riley smiled, taking his hand and giving it a warm squeeze. “Then I will still stand by my decision, Theon will be the next heir of Cordonia. Also, I think it’s time we file the paperwork and make him an official Rhys.”

Liam beamed his heart filled with happiness at that moment, he scoped Riley in his arms and twirled her around, making her giggle. Liam gave her a kiss on the lips. “You don’t know how much hearing this from you means to me. How can I ever repay you, my queen?” She grinned mischievous at him. “I know one way you can start.” She gestured towards their luxurious king size bed. “As you wish my queen.”

Present day.

“Knock Knock.” A voice calls out from the entrance of the office door, Liam lifts his head and sees Maxwell peeking his head between the gap of the door. “Mind if we intrude for a little?” Maxwell asks beaming.

“We?”

“Stop blocking the door Maxwell and go in already!” Drake growls, giving an eye roll. The two enter, Drake holding a bottle of whiskey in his hand while Maxwell saunters towards the bar cart grabbing a few glasses. The two take a seat opposite Liam. “Thought we could use a drink to celebrate.” Drake mentions as he opens up the bottle of whiskey and pouring it into the glasses. “Drake is that the vintage whiskey I got you for your birthday last year?” Liam questions him.

“Yup, only the best for special occasions.” He beams, taking a sip of the expensive amber liquid. “Where’s Leo? I thought he’d be here by now?”

“His flight got delayed but he and his family should be arriving at the palace in an hour.” He replies, giving both gentlemen a curious look. “Have any of you seen Riley?”

“I saw her with Hana, talking final preparations a few moments ago. Apparently Madeleine has been missing all day for some reason so Riley and Hana are picking up the slack.” Maxwell answers with a shrug. “We’ve been trying to call her all day but no answer.”

Drake snorts a laugh. “She probably heard Leo is coming and is trying to avoid him and Amara.” “I won’t fight you one that answers.” Liam chuckles, taking his phone on the desk to text Riley.

Liam : Hey is everything going ok? Drake and Maxwell told me about Madeleine suddenly being MIA.”

Riley : I have most things under control, by the way can you have Maxwell meet me and Hana at the east wing?”

Liam : Alright, I’ll let him know.I Love you my Queen.

Riley : I love you too my king.

**********************************************

Riley giggles at the text she got from Liam, even after all these years being married she still gets butterflies whenever her husband tells her he loves her. It was an hour past noon and Riley still had a lot of arrangements to take care of before Theon’s big day, things that should have been done by Madeleine had she not decided to suddenly go missing. Luckily for her she had friends who were more than willing to help her out.

“Riley, I’ve talked to the baker, they’ll have the cake delivered tomorrow two hours before the event and Olivia has just arrived, she’s going to meet us at the kings office.” Hana informs Riley as she saunters towards her beaming. “And I’ve talked to Bastien, he already has the guards stationed everywhere in case anything happens.”

Riley lets out a sigh of relief, looping her arm with Hana’s. “Thanks Hana and I’m sorry I got you roped into all this, especially since you’re in your last trimester.”

Hana chuckles gently placing one hand on her 8 month pregnant belly. “It’s fine, besides i could use some exercise. Now common, Maxwell should be waiting for us at the east wing right now.”

*********************************

While Liam and Liam were hanging out at the king’s office and Riley, Hana and Maxwell were busy going through some last details, Theon was in his room at the kings quarters playing with his favourite stuffed lion.“Rwww!” He roars, jumping in front of his nanny. She acts surprised and gives an exaggerated gasp. “Oh no! A fierce lion is going to eat me, whatever will I do?”

“Lancelot the Lion isn’t going to eat you. He is here to protect from all the bad people. Lancelot the brave is what they call him.” He said, his expression stoic.

The nanny chuckles. “Well then, We must be really lucky to have him on our side.” Theon nods beaming then continues to run about the room with his stuff Lion. “Be careful young prince, we wouldn’t want any bumps and bruises before your big party tomorrow.” She reminds him, shaking her head then continues with her reading.

A little while later the doorbell to the quarters rings. The nanny closes her book and puts it on the side table before heading for the door, when she opens it and is greeted by one of the king's guards. “Package for the queen, his royal majesty requested I send it here.”

The nanny gives her an inquiring look, she’s never seen this one before, must be one of the new recruits that came last week. “I’m sorry I’ve never seen you before, where is Mara?”

“Mara is my senior, I am currently training under her and she asked me to bring this over while she runs something with Bastien. Something about the last security details before the big event tomorrow. Now if you don’t mind, this box is quite heavy.”

The nanny hesitates but nods and steps aside to let her in. “You can put it over there.” She gestures towards the white marbled island. The king's guard enters, placing the box on top of the island. “Is that all?” The nanny asks.

The king's guard takes one look at her, a wicked grin curling at the corner of her lips. “Actually there is.” She said reaching for the inside of her blazer and pulling out a gun with a silencer attached, shooting the nanny dead straight in the chest without another word. The woman sneered as she hovered over the nanny, watching as she lay on the floor lifelessly bleeding out. “Pathetic.” She scoffs, taking off her wig letting her real hair flow down her shoulders, she starts peeling off the silicone paste from her nose and cheeks. “Now onto the next business.”

She heads upstairs to where Theon’s room is located, when she opens the door she sees him still playing with his toy. He turns around when he notices her walking over towards him. “Hello Theon, would you like to play a little game?” She sneers, a glint of wickedness in her eyes.

********************************

Back at the king’s office, the two men were still seated with a glass of whiskey in hand chatting when Riley, Hana, Maxwell and Olivia entered the room. “Ah I knew the two of you would still be here.” Riley said as she sauntered towards her husband, leaning in to give him a soft kiss before turning to Drake. “I’ll have a glass of that if you don’t mind.”

Drake chuckles. “You sure look like you could use one.” Riley and Hana lets the men get up to speed on everything they have been doing since they found out Madeleine decided to go missing this morning for some “urgent business.” A little while later they are interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in.” Liam states.

The door opens and in walks his assistant with his hand folded behind him. “Your majesty, Dr Suri is on the other line. She wants to have a word with you and the Queen.” Dr. Suri was the new gynecologist they started seeing a week ago. She was highly recommended by Hana and since they were going nowhere with their old doctor they decided to try this one. But no one except their friends knew about this. The doctor suggested that Riley and Liam have another test done to see if there was something the old doctor missed.

Liam gives a nod and the assistant walks out of the room. The rest of the gang give each other a knowing look. “We should head out, the two of you might want some privacy.” Drake mentions.

“No it’s fine Drake, we could use the moral support for whatever the result is.”

The couple give each other a comforting look before pressing the speaker on the phone. “Dr. Suri, it's King Liam and Queen Riley, are you calling about our results?”

“Yes, I’m sorry to bother both of you. I know our next appointment is not for another two weeks but I think this couldn’t wait. The two shared a worried look, Liam holding onto Riley’s hand giving it a comforting squeeze. Both hoping it was nothing serious. “Is it something we should be worried about?”

”Goodness nothing of the sort. The two of you are perfectly healthy, the reason I’m calling is because I found high levels of estrogen and progesterone in her majesty’s blood system. If you don’t mind could you send me a picture of the supplements you’ve been taking these past three years? Not the bottles but the pills inside them.”

Riley raised her eyebrow curious, the others also made the same expression. “Sure, would you give me a minute, I have them in my purse.” She quickly grabs her purse and takes them out from a small pill organizer then takes a clear picture and sends it to her doctor.

“I’ve received your photo.” She acknowledges. “And it’s as I suspected. Your majesty you’ve been taking birth control pills instead of folic acid this entire time.” An air of silence filled the room, everyone was shocked by the news. All this time Riley thought there was something wrong with her when there wasn’t it was the pills that were the problem but still she had to ask. “Are you positively sure doctor?”

“I am, I’ve been doing this for more than two decades and I can assure you these are birth control pills not folic acid. I suggest you speak with the person who was in charge of handling your medication.”

Liam and Riley share a knowing look. “Madeleine.” They mutter in unison. Madeleine was the one who was in charge of getting Riley’s supplements and vitamins. In Fact she herself insisted on it not even Riley’s assistant was allowed to get them. “I always knew that bitch couldn’t be trusted.” Olivia spat.

Suddenly Bastien barges into the room, starling everyone, a worried expression on his face. “Apologies for your majesties for barging in like this but something happened in the king's quarters.”

Liam jumps out from his seat, his heart racing. “What happened Bastien?!”

Bastien gives Liam a regretful look. “One of the staff went to the king's quarters to bring the prince his lunch and found the nanny laying on the floor in a pile of blood. She had been shot in the chest. And the prince, he is missing.”

**********

TRR/TRH @charliejane-blog @dcbbw @hopefulmoonobject @cmestrella @pixieferry @lodberg @traeumerinwitzhelden @romanticatheart-posts @gnatbrain @the-soot-sprite @texaskitten30 @ao719 @desireepow-1986 @emceesynonymroll @jessiembruno @kinkykingliam @jlpplays1 @annekebbphotography @thecordoniandiaries @rainbowsinthestorm @jessiembruno @leelee10898 @cordonianroyalty @lauradowning29 @msjr0119 @janezillow @heauxplesslydevoted @cordonia-gothqueen @kacie-0156 @bebepac @queenjilian @sanchita012

[dreadwulf]

Four Letters

You may recall that during Terrible Love Brienne stalls for time in considering Jaime’s proposal of marriage by saying she will have to write her father for permission. I had forgotten that I did write these letters, and here they are.

She found Jaime glaring at his quill as though it offended him, stretching his fingers painfully around it.

“You might as well take over. I’ve managed only a few lines,” Jaime said, sighing. “And wasted a lot of paper.”

Brienne peered curiously over the page. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

He took the page with him as he stood up, gesturing at Brienne to take his seat. She took up the quill thoughtfully. She had not had much opportunity to write a proper letter, at a proper desk, in such a long time. But she had fine penmanship in her youth, and she was far more worried about what words to use in the letter than in its composition. She was also distracted by the lingering warmth of Jaime in his chair.

He paced over her at a short distance. “I’ve been leaving it to my lieutenants to compose my letters, and I can just make a legible signature now. But the rest is no better than a child’s scrawl. Writing with my off hand is something I’m never going to learn, I think.”

“I’m afraid you will have to give up your promising career as a scribe then,” she said solemnly, dipping into the inkwell and writing her father’s name across the top of the page.

“Was that a joke?” Jaime seemed delighted. “Was it your first? I’m honored.”

“Hush.” Brienne frowned at the page, wondering how best to broach the subject of her engagement. Almost engagement. Potential engagement. Then she dips her quill and begins. 

******

  My Lord Father,

I apologize for the delay since my last letter. I must inform you that I have fully recovered and have since traveled so often there has not been time to write. I am proud to say that I was able to complete my quest in service to the Stark family, by rescuing the eldest daughter of the North and restoring her to Winterfell, and as well to avenge the death of our beloved King Renly.

I find myself presently traveling North with the Lannister army to face an unknown enemy. I fear the wars that have so long plagued the Seven Kingdoms are not nearly yet at an end, and so long as they rage I feel I must continue to fight.

However, there is another matter I must bring to you. Lord Jaime Lannister has asked for my hand in marriage. I have cautioned him that I would not marry without your permission and that I will not be sent away from the battlefield to keep his castle, and he agrees to both terms. Unfortunately there is little time to prepare before we must ride for the North. I request your blessing to marry should I decide to accept, with my apology that there would be no wedding feast.

Lord Lannister would not require a dowry or any claim to Tarth. However, if we return from the war, I do not know if I would be the Lady of Casterly Rock or return to Tarth one day as the Evenstar, or somehow both. We are still negotiating such details, and it is hard to think beyond the immediate danger or imagine a world beyond it. I do not know what the future holds or if I will require your blessing at all, but I would be grateful if you would give it anyway.

Your faithful daughter,

Brienne

A runner came to collect their letters, and Jaime gave her his own message to include. She addressed the both to a series of bannermen in the stormlands where she knew her father had been secreted. Their letters would be passed along until it reached the Evenstar’s hands, and read who knows how many times in the process. She knew she would find this mortifying later, but she could not think on it now and still send them.

Brienne managed to scan Jaime’s letter before folding it and binding it to her own. It read, in very careful, slightly crooked lettering:

Lord Selwyn Tarth,

I humbly request your daughter’s hand in marriage. I realize this is sudden, and that I should make my requests properly and in person, but your daughter has sworn herself to travel north and I would not be parted from her. All the armies of the Westerlands will be our escort until I have your answer. I will not be able to keep her out of danger, as I doubt anyone could, but I will protect her as best I can. I love and adore Brienne and will do so to the end of my days. Permit me to do it as her husband.

Lord Jaime Lannister

She was probably blushing from head to toe by the time she handed the pages to the runner.

  **************

Four weeks later comes the reply.

 My darling girl,

You are too long between letters, and you write with so little detail. I hope to see you face to face one day soon, so that you might tell me of your adventures.

As to your request: I worry that I have given you little idea of what marriage entails, having never remarried. It was perhaps selfish of me not to have given you a proper mother. The truth is, I could never bring myself to marry for politics or convenience after knowing a love match. I might have married again if I had loved another, but I have only ever loved your mother.

My daughter, I tried to see you married so many times. I have always wanted to see you under the protection of another so that I might one day die knowing you would be provided for. And while several of these arrangements came to misfortune through no fault of your own, I came to realize in time that you are very much like me. You will marry only for love, and failing that, you will be lonely. I have no wish to see you lonely all your life, but I understand this.

I will repeat what I told you when you left us. The decision is yours, and your life is your own. You are the strongest person I have ever known, my Brienne. You will protect yourself. My advice is this: marry for love and love only. Your letter, I’m sorry to see, makes no mention of love. I don’t know if you have omitted it or if you have given up all hope of it. It is hard to know what to say without knowing that.

As to the man himself, his reputation is dishonorable and not what I would have chosen for you. Still, I have received several letters from Jaime Lannister over the years to assure me of your safety and inform me of your whereabouts, and this alone is enough to endear him to me as a potential son-in-law. If you love him, you have my blessing to marry him.

Write me quickly with the result. I am always eager for another letter from you.

Your loving father,

Selwyn Tarth

The second letter was not meant for her eyes, she knew, but she read it just the same.

Lord Lannister,

My beloved daughter may look like a warrior and fight like a demon, but she is more gentle-hearted than you may imagine. Treat her kindly and no wife in the world would be more loyal. Treat her cruelly, and you will be condemned to the lowest of the Seven Hells where murderers and monsters go, and I will escort you there myself.

That said, I grant permission to marry my daughter Brienne of Tarth, so long as she freely consents to the union.

Sincerely,

Lord Selwyn Tarth, Evenstar

She refolded the second letter, torn between embarassment at its contents and the anticipation of the look on Jaime’s face when he would read it. 

[thedeviltohisangel]

The Clock Strikes//1//It Doesn’t Matter If You Love Him

Kylo and his new wife Tessala run into trouble when exploring a new planet.

mentions of attempted kidnapping

masterlist in bio!

send any requests for these two my way!

It wasn’t unusual for him to wake up without Tessala beside him. In fact, it was normal. Normally, she never even went to bed beside him. But last night she had. Last night had been different. Dare he say it. Say that it felt good.

Kylo had not felt good in a long time.

But his moment of good was fleeting as he began to wonder why she was no longer in bed with him. It had been months since she had been wed to him at the request of the Supreme Leader. Kylo had accepted that she would tolerate him at best. That seemed to be what everyone did. If that. He had promised himself he would return her feelings in kind. There was no way either of them could survive this union if actual emotions and feelings got involved. She was a princess from a wealthy planet with a large army and he was a powerful servant for an even more powerful lord. They had each been left little choice in the matter.

Last night she had been sad. She had been angry. There had been a fire inside of her and he was ashamed to admit that he had been drawn to it. The edge of self-destruction that lived within him was enamored by the sweet death her soul offered him.

He had told her that the stories of love and soulmates and happiness her caretakers had told her as a young girl were silly. That they were setting her up for disappointment. That he wished, for her sake, they hadn’t. That they told her the truth of the world. That monsters didn’t just lurk in the dark but in the light too. Monsters like him.

And for some reason it was his admittance that he viewed himself as a monster that made her stop. Her chest stopped heaving and her face went from anger to confusion to the softest thing he had seen since he last saw his mother. 

“You are scarred. It is not a sign of damage or monstrosity. It’s a sign of resilience.” Of course Tessala hated him even though the marriage and living arrangements were against his will as well. The Supreme Leader had been the only one to blatantly tell Kylo his worth. The young man had needed that so badly. So he went where he was able to find it. 

Kylo lifelessly pulled on his black robes, attached his saber to his belt and tucked his helmet under his arm. This was how his mornings always went. No sign of his wife. He had gotten used to it. Found comfort in it. And now that he knew there could be a different way, it felt unbalanced. Unfulfilling. Empty. It was a dangerous place for him to be.

“Good morning.” It was almost a whisper but not quite. It was a peep. Tessala was unsure of the words coming out of her mouth even though they were so incredibly simple. 

“Good morning.” He stopped in his tracks to look at her. She was in a light pink robe placing food onto the table.

“I was hoping you could sit and eat with me today but if you have things to do…” She now realized how silly her hope had been. How stupid she must sound to her husband. She should have just let things be. Let last night lie as the fluke that it was.

“I can stay for a little while.” Her smile almost made him crack his own, almost, before he placed his helmet down and walked to sit at the head of the table.

----

“I am taking a trip to Auturn today.” She paused her eating to look at him but he kept his head down towards his plate. It was rare that he share his plans with her. It wasn’t too long ago that she had she spent almost a month alone in their quarters thinking he was dead and she meant too little to have the news shared with her.

“I hear they have a wonderfully beautiful marketplace this time of year,” she mumbled as she pushed her food around her plate. Tessala had been to the famous marketplace of Auturn once before with her mother. It had been a magical day filled with sights and smells and fabrics and trinkets that she had never experienced. There was a pain in her chest she could never explain at the notion that she would most likely never experience it again.

“Maybe...maybe a trooper could accompany you there while I attend to business. The ship is headed in that direction anyways.”

“I would be very thankful.” She willed back the tears  of joy and happiness that wished to escape from her eyes. Perhaps it would be easier to survive than she had originally thought.

----

Kylo kept ten paces between the two of them as they marched through the center of town with their security detail in tow. He had instructed her to ditch the cream-colored-ruffled gown she had chosen for the day, though he was positive she would have been absolutely breathtaking in it, for all black and a hood that could cover her face. He didn’t need her turning into a liability during this outing.

“You stay within this vicinity. I will be back shortly.” Tessala wasn’t used to the distorted voice that replaced his as he spoke through the mask. She nodded her understanding and watched as a quarter of the troopers marched off with him. It was certainly true that his skills with a lightsaber and the Force meant he required less protection but she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. No longer did she wish to be in the role of the meek damsel in distress or the wife who sat at home just longingly waiting for her husband to return and task her with something to do. Maybe, with their newfound rapport, this was a topic she could broach with him. Ask him for more responsibility. Ask him for more knowledge on the role she was kidnapped to play in all this. And maybe she would then one day have to courage to talk to him about children.

The troopers made for poor company as she smelled every plant and powder and liquid that was on display with the vendors. Every time she smiled, she thought of the First Order and what their plans might be for this planet. Something so beautiful shouldn’t be snuffed out by the stiff men in suits that walked about her new home.

“Someone as fair as you certainly is not from Auturn.” Tessala looked up from the piece of jewelry she had been admiring to see a peculiar man looking at her. Not looking. Assessing. As if he was wondering what price she would fetch at this very market. Even if his eyes weren’t glowing red, she’d be scared.

“Excuse me.” She took one step passed him when his hand snapped out to grab her arm, the troopers raising their guns immediately but were taken down by the men who emerged from behind their stalls with their own weapons.

“There is a rumor going around that Ren purchased a new toy. Could that be you, my fair lady?”

“I am no one’s toy,” she said with a spit to his face. That earned her a tight grip around her jaw and his sneer turning sinister.

“Let’s test out his commitment to his purchase.” Tessala expected to be dragged somewhere. Maybe to wherever Kylo was so her captors could taunt him. Maybe to their base of operations should they could plot what to do next. When she had considered the hazards of the marriage proposal she was entering into, being kidnapped and used as a bargaining chip had not been one her mind had come up with. What a mistake that had been.

“I promise you that I mean nothing to him.” She thinks it was true. Even though it hurt. It was never a good feeling to believe you were worthless to someone. Particularly when that someone was your husband.

“Your womb is what really means something to him. Maybe that is what we should take first.” He produced a knife and angled it so it pointed just below her belly button. She squared her shoulders and searched for inner peace. There was no way she would let these men think they had succeeded in scaring her. Too much had been taken from her recently. It was her turn to claim something. She claimed herself.

“I wouldn’t recommend that.” It was hard to tell if there was any emotion behind his voice as it came out through the mask. Perhaps that would work in their favor for this situation. He wouldn’t give away to the men, or to her, if she actually did mean something to him.

“So glad you could join us, Ren. Now tell your men to lay down their weapons and you dispose of that saber and the Princess will not be hurt.” Tessala couldn’t tell but Kylo was looking at her behind his mask. He was trying to read her face. To see if she was in any real pain or discomfort. That would drastically change how he planned to carve up these men. He answered the man’s statement by igniting his saber and throwing it towards the armed combattants. The troopers behind him began to fire their blasters, Tessala pushing forward as her captors grip loosened in a moment of distraction.

“Get down!” She dropped as Kylo’s lightsaber flew above her head, back into his hands, and he began to deflect shots from the men in front of him. “Get behind me.” Keeping low to the ground, she quickly made her way behind her husband who was now slowly marching forward as each deflected shot found a new target.

“The bounty on her head is too much for me to give up without a fight!” The man who originally grabbed her, who presumably was the leader of the group, jumped towards Kylo from the side as he had turned to give orders to the troopers. Rarely caught off guard, he was in this moment and Kylo fell to the ground in a flurry of robes. Tessala watched in horror as his helmet and lightsaber skidded away. “I’ll keep you alive, Ren, long enough to watch me-” The smell of burning flesh reached Kylo before his eyes registered the sight before him.

His own lightsaber had been pierced through the man’s chest. He rolled to the side as the body fell forward and his wife stood there cast in a red glow.

“I don’t know how I…I just grabbed it and it…” Kylo approached her like he would a startled creature in the woods.

“Tessala, let me see it.” He took the leather glove off his hand in the hopes his bare skin would look less threatening to her. She looked down at the metal grip in her hand, the powerful weapon still burning brightly in her hands. Slowly, she closed the gap between their hands and placed the lightsaber into his palm. He clicked it off before gathering her into his arms and holding her against his chest.

“Kylo.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“What do we do now?” He didn’t know.

Tags:

@and-shes-not-even-pretty @ticklish-leafy-plant

[once-upon-a-spemily]

Let’s Grow Old Together 1/3

Summary: Spencer agrees to pretend to date Emily at her ex’s wedding, because she can’t say no to Emily. Besides, it’s harmless, right? Just a few nights of being silly and fun together, and then they go back to normal, right?

A/N: This fic’s got all of the tropes. Fake dating. Jealous!Spencer. Pining! Perhaps a drunk proposal at some point! It’s fun! I had exactly no time in my schedule to write this but it wouldn’t leave me alone, so please enjoy this story of Spencer realizing she’s in love with Emily at the worst possible time. 

The first thing, the very first thing, Spencer did when she got the invitation was to call Emily. The first thing she heard when Emily picked up was a tear-stained-laugh.

“How’d you know?” Emily asked.

“I know you,” Spencer replied. “I’m sorry, Em.”

“It’s fine, it’s really fine,” Emily said. “I feel so stupid for crying, I just…I didn’t expect her to get married. Not so soon.”

“It’s not stupid,” Spencer said, looking down at the embossed lettering of the invitation. “Your feelings aren’t stupid, Emily.”

“It’s only been a year,” Emily murmured. “How can Alison be getting married only a year after we broke up?”

The wedding was nine months away, but Emily’s point still stood.

“Hey,” Spencer said, “come over to my place. You don’t want to be alone, and I have wine, you can just crash here tonight.”

“God, I’m so there.”

Spencer smiled, tucking the invitation away for now, because Emily did not need to see that again tonight, and  she pulled out two wine glasses.

Spencer lived in a house that’s too big for one person. She didn’t like to admit it, because her mom nagged her about it constantly, but it was true. But being a lawyer paid really well and Spencer saw the house and fell in love. She didn’t expect to be alone in it for long. Sometimes, it seemed the joke was on her.

The only reason it was bearable, really, was that Emily’s apartment was ten minutes away, if that. They spent a lot of their free time together.

Spencer didn’t have favorites when it came to her friends, but with Aria in Connecticut and Hanna off in Paris and Milan more than her New York apartment, Emily kind of became her person.

She witnessed, firsthand, the blowout from Emily and Alison’s breakup, and watched Emily piece herself back together.

It’s why, six months before the wedding, Spencer finally broaches the question, “are you going to go?”

Since the Hastings and the DiLaurentis’s were neighbors back in the day, the entire Hastings family was invited to the wedding, and they were all going. Veronica made that very clear. Aria and Hanna were going, too. They tried very hard to remain neutral during the breakup. Spencer did not.

“I don’t know,” Emily said. “We were friends for so long before we got together, and she said she wanted to be friends again…”

Friends is a funny way to put it, Spencer thought, but she knew better than to say anything about it.

“There’s a bridal shower in like three months, so you might want to have your answer before then.”

“I’ll go,” Emily said. “I mean, it’s been over a year since we broke up. How pathetic would it look if I don’t go? I mean, come on.”

“Em–”

“No, no,” Emily said, and she turned around to her fridge, where the invite was being held up with a magnet. She pulled the RSVP card and Spencer watched her check the Will Attend box. “Everyone’s going. I should, too.”

“Okay.”

“I made a mistake.”

It was the night before the bridal shower. They were at Emily’s place, because it was one of those nights where Spencer’s big old house felt too big. They just finished a bottle of wine. Spencer looked at Emily, waiting for her too elaborate.

“What?”

“What the fuck am I doing? Going to my ex’s wedding?” she said, and tears glistened in her eyes. “Look, I’m done being in love with Ali. I’m better, now. But her family will be there, and most of Rosewood and I’m going to get these looks, and these questions and this pity and I can’t– I can’t…”

“Emily, sweetie,” Spencer said, reaching over to play with the ends of Emily’s hair. “It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s going to be awful,” Emily insisted, and seeing her so upset was killing Spencer.

“What can I do? How can I help make it easier for you?” Spencer asked.

“It would just be so much better if…” Emily trailed off, as if she had an idea. “Okay, you’re going to think I’m so crazy, but would you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” Spencer said, without question, because she would. She would do anything for Emily.

“Can we just tell everyone we’re dating?” Emily asked.

Spencer nearly choked on the last of her wine. “What?”

“Look, you know how gossipy Rosewood is. If I show up, by myself, then I’m going to get all that shit, but if I’m with someone, no one will care. It won’t look so sad and I won’t have to deal with people looking at me like I’m some fragile, kicked puppy,” Emily said.

She was not wrong. Spencer knows she wasn’t wrong. But… “Me?”

“Spencer, the bridal shower is tomorrow, where else am I going to find someone?”

“Gee,” Spencer said drily, “you make a girl feel so special.”

“Please?” Emily was whining a little, but it was cute, and Spencer’s heart fluttered. “Just for the shower and the wedding. Two nights you have to pretend to be in love with me. Just two nights.”

“Okay.”

Spencer was almost surprised at herself, but she’d never really been able to say no to Emily, so really, she wasn’t surprised at all.

Emily’s face broke into a smile and Spencer couldn’t even be bothered with how stupid of a plan this was.

They arrived at the bridal shower together. It was at the DiLaurantis’ fancy new house. The entire drive to Rosewood consisted of Spencer trying to hammer out the details of their fake relationship.

“How long have we been dating?” she asked.

“I don’t know, like…four months?” Emily replied, half-paying attention. Spencer filed that away.

“How did we start dating?”

“I don’t know,” Emily shrugged.

“Okay, well, who asked whom out?” Spencer asked.

“Spencer, I don’t know!”

“Well we need to have our story straight!” Spencer said, exasperated.

“I’ll follow your lead, we’ll be fine,” Emily said. “Just act natural. Don’t overthink it, you’ll just ruin the illusion. How we act is more important than some weird checklist of details. Just…pretend you’re in love with me and we’ll be fine.”

Spencer didn’t think that was going to be too hard.

“And you’re gonna pretend you’re in love with me,” she said.

“Of course,” Emily said. She took Spencer’s hand. “We’re partners in this.”

Spencer couldn’t deny she liked the sound of that. Emily only let go of her hand so Spencer could pull into an empty parking spot.

The bridal shower was a little more intimate than the wedding. None of Spencer’s family was there, but there are still too many familiar faces. Too much of Rosewood all in one room. She could see Emily brace herself. Spencer reached down, taking Emily’s hand, slotting their fingers together.

Partners.

“Spencer! Emily!” Alison made her way over to them, beaming widely as if nothing was awkward about this at all. “You made it!”

“Of course,” Spencer said, purposefully sticking her hand out for a handshake before Alison could try to go in for a hug. Spencer had never tried to hide the fact that she took Emily’s side during the breakup, and she wasn’t about to start now.

“Well, I’m very glad you’re here,” Alison said. Before Alison could say anything else, there was a squeal, and Spencer turned just in time for Hanna to throw her arms around her and Emily.

Spencer only let go of Emily’s hand so they could both hug Hanna back, and suddenly Aria was right there too, wiggling her way into the group hug. It’d been nearly a year since the four of them were together, and Spencer had to swallow her tears before they fell.

“How are you guys? How are you, Em?” Hanna asked, and her concern was obvious.

“Doing okay, actually,” Emily said.

Spencer bit her tongue. She wondered if they should play up the fake-dating in front of Aria and Hanna, too, and if they should do it now. She didn’t think about having to lie to them. It was not like they’d never lied to each other before, but it felt different. At the very least, she didn’t want them to be the first people they lie to.

Her worry was pointless, anyway, because only a minute later they were all being ushered into the living room for drinks and appetizers, the opportunity to tell them quickly squandered.

The DiLaurentis’ went big. There was an open bar even at the shower, and it was catered, pastel decorations lining the room. Spencer could almost hear her mother’s criticisms.

Spencer stayed by Emily’s side, the two of them nestled together, almost attached, and Spencer was surprised by how little she overthought anything. She liked the way Emily felt when they stood like this, their sides pressed together, standing as one, and that was all it took for her brain to shut up for once.

They did separate, eventually, and work the room, and that was when Mona swooped in, like some bird of prey. Spencer cringed, steeling herself and forcing a smile.

“Hi, Mona, it’s good to see you again.”

“Don’t start lying already, Spencer, I haven’t even asked you the meaty questions yet,” she said, smiling, and Spencer couldn’t help but think that Mona’s smiles were a little like a crocodile’s – seeing teeth only means you’re about to get bit.

“What, are you going to interrogate me?” Spencer asked. She really wouldn’t put it past Mona.

“Just one for now,” Mona replied, taking the daintiest sip of wine. “You and Emily, when did that happen?”

There was a smug flicker in her eyes, like she couldn’t wait to see Spencer flounder and flush and make excuses. Like she was waiting for the inevitable, ‘oh, no, we’re not together!’. She thought she’d found a chink in the armor.

Spencer smiled, herself, because yes, she was going to have fun with this if she could. 

“It happened about four months ago,” she said, and watched Mona choke on her wine, eyes bulging, the smug look on her face not just gone but completely decimated. Spencer stood a little taller, heart racing. Winning was always a good look for a Hastings.

“Excuse me, Mona,” she said and pushed past her, going to get another cocktail

She waited for the bartender to make her drink and Emily sidled up next to her.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” Spencer replied, taking her martini. “Just told Mona the good news.”

Emily laughed, “Yeah?”

Spencer nodded. She turned, and all of a sudden she saw the information move around the room. Mona spreads information fast and Spencer watched the news of the relationship flood the room, going from person to person faster than a new antibiotic resistant superbug.

Spencer watched, actually watched, the moment that Alison found out. Her brows knit together and she looked up, finding Spencer with laser precision. There was something accusatory in her eyes, which wasn’t fucking fair, because she was the one who moved on, she was the one getting married. Spencer stared right back, refusing to be the first to break. Alison looked like she was about to avert her gaze, crumble first, but Spencer felt a hand sliding up her arm and Emily was in her periphery.

She turnrd right in time for Emily’s lips to graze her ear.

“Do you think they know?” Emily whispered, and Spencer could feel her breath against her skin.

Spencer smiled. “Em, the whole room knows.”

Emily laughed, and Spencer lit up. Emily was actually enjoying herself, which meant every moment of this was worth it.

It took about five minutes for Hanna and Aria to corner them.

“When were you going to tell us?” Hanna demanded.

“We weren’t planning on having everyone find out,” Spencer said. “We wanted to wait until we were sure this was good, because you know, dating a friend can change a lot. But Mona found out and that woman gossips like her life depends on it.”

“And is it?” Aria asked.

Spencer just looked at her. “What?”

“Is it good? Is it going well?”

Spencer looked at Emily, her mouth a little dry. She was a fine liar but bad at improvisation. She tried to join the improv team her first semester at college.  It was a disaster.

“Yeah,” Emily said, and Spencer swore her eyes softened. Damn, Emily was a good actress.  “It’s really good. You know, the breakup with Alison was hard.”

“That’s putting it nicely,” Hanna muttered, because yeah, she’d never really forgiven Alison for it either.

“Spencer helped me,” Emily said, her eyes still trained on Spencer. “And it became something new. Something better. It was…as if by magic, Ali didn’t matter anymore. I could breathe again.”

All of a sudden, it was Spencer who couldn’t breathe.

“That’s super cute and all,” Aria intercut, “but please tell us this isn’t going to be a rebound. You both deserve better than that.”

“No, I had my rebounds,” Emily promised, which was true, she’d gotten past that part. “This is different.”

Hanna nudged Aria, “Okay, stop pestering them, this is like, my dream come true. You two are adorable.”

Spencer was about to ask Hanna why her dream-come-true is two of her best friends dating each other, but before she could, Allison was getting everyone’s attention, and it’s time for bridal shower games, whatever the hell those were.

By the time Spencer dropped Emily off at her place, it was pretty late. Spencer’s sweater was hanging around Emily’s shoulders, and the two of them were swapping stories about old classmates coming up to them and gushing about the two of them dating.

They were laughing pretty hard, and Spencer couldn’t believe she had such a good time at a bridal shower of all things.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Emily asked, turning her head to look at Spencer. “You didn’t even have to kiss me or anything.”

“Aw, shucks,” Spencer said, and they dissolved into another fit of laughter. “You’re okay, though? You didn’t have a bad time?”

Emily shook her head. “No I…I had a great time actually. Thank you, for everything.”

Spencer pulled onto Emily’s street, double-parking in front of her apartment building. “Well, we’re not done yet. We’ve got, you know, the actual wedding.”

“Oh, that,” Emily waved her hand, as if it were nothing. “How hard could that be? We survived this, that’s going to be fine, too.”

Spencer wasn’t sure whether it was Emily’s confidence or indifference that unnerved her, but she pushed that feeling away quickly. It had been a such a good evening. Why would she ruin it now?

“Right. See you tomorrow for dinner?” she asked.

“How else am I supposed to make sure you actually take time to eat?” Emily asked, smirking. 

Spencer rolled her eyes, watching as Emily got out of the car. She waited until Emily was in the building before she pulled away.

Three weeks. That was whole long it took before news of Emily and Spencer dating made it to their parents. Three weeks. Slower than expected, actually, considering the speed with which news travelled around Rosewood. Of course, Spencer and Emily were no longer in Rosewood, but their parents were.

Spencer couldn’t quite decipher the order in which her mom found out – whether Hanna told Ashley who eventually told Veronica or maybe someone Veronica ran into in town asked her about it – but the point was, she knew.

“Mom, mom,” Spencer said into the phone, trying to get a word in edgewise, “Look, I know you’re mad but–”

“Mad?” Veronica laughed. “Spencer, we love Emily. She’s always been such a sweet girl, very disciplined. And she became a wonderful young woman. Honestly, I’m just happy you’re with anyone, and Emily’s as good as they come. We just wish you had told us.”

“Okay,” Spencer said, still trying to wrap her head around everything she was hearing. She tried to find a suitable lie. “We just wanted to wait until we knew things were serious first.”

“And are they?”

Spencer pinched the bridge of her nose. She hadn’t anticipated dragging their parents into this when she agreed to this. ��I mean, I guess.”

“Well, we’re happy for you, Spencer. Give Emily our love. And, for the love of god, the next time something big happens in your life, please call us. Now I’ve gotta go, Melissa called and I put her on hold so I could get this cleared up. Love you.”

“Great,” Spencer said. “Love you too, bye, Mom.”

There was a knock on her door not a minute later. It was Tuesday night, which meant dinner with Emily. They had  two months, one week until the wedding. The whole ‘dating’ thing had barely come up, only on occasions when Hanna or Aria called. Spencer and Emily both had posted some vague, maybe-coupley-maybe-not posts to their social media. But that was about it.

“You look like you’ve been hit with a truck, you okay?” Emily asked, immediately going into the kitchen. Spencer kind of loved her for cooking. Emily always cooked. It was Spencer’s saving grace.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Spencer shrugged, “it’s just, you know, my mom called asking why she just found out that you and I have been dating for months.”

Emily closed the fridge, mouth agape. “What?”

“Yep,” Spencer said. “So I’m guessing you can expect a call from Pam and Wayne soon. Cat’s out of the bag.”

Emily chewed on her lower lip, and Spencer watched her thinking through this. “Okay…well…this isn’t that much of a surprise, I mean, they were going to be at the wedding.”

“True,” Spencer agreed. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting it, for some reason. I hadn’t actually factored our parents into the equation.” And now that equation was more complicated. Spencer didn’t like complicated equations.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.”

Spencer waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. They were thrilled, actually. You know my mom loves you.”

Emily snorted, “Then just wait till my parents call, my mom adores you. She’ll be elated.”

“You want to hear something crazy?” Spencer asked, as Emily went back to cooking dinner.

“Hmm?”

“My mom ignored a call from Melissa while she was talking to me,” Spencer said. She couldn’t help but laugh about it. How many times had her mom cut her off to take a call from Melissa? How many times had she felt second best?

Emily grinned, “Wow, your mom must really like me. I’m so flattered.”

“If I had known there’d be this many perks to dating you, I’d have done it ages ago.”

Emily rolled her eyes, but as Spencer poured the wine, she could see that Emily was smiling a little bit, too.

[bourgeoisfury]

School Daze

14 years ago..

A robin danced in the late morning sun, flitting about without a care. The small bird made the oppressive warmth of the day look inviting, fun even. Aedos cradled her head in her hand, her cheek squishing out against her palm. Being a robin would be so nice. A collage of green leaves outside the classroom window rustled, soaking in a pleasant breeze.

An itch tugged at the back of her mind, trying to get her attention.. reminding her of something. The nagging pulled her away from birdwatching, and her heart sank when she turned to find Sister Gertrude staring at her expectantly from beside the blackboard. Several giggles from the other corners of the classroom cut through the silence, and Aedos found herself wishing she could shrink into her chair.

Whilst watching the girl do her best to disappear, Sister Gertrude chastised, “Pay attention, Miss Valleritignon! Now tell me,” she repeated herself, “what is the reason for Our war with the Dravanian Horde?”

Aedos blinked, her cheeks flushing and her head throbbing. She tugged instinctively at one of her twin braids. How long had everyone been staring? How was she supposed to know the answer to that question anyway? She had to say something though, and with each blink of the multitude of eyes around her she could feel her face burning up redder and redder. “U-uhm…D-...Dragons, Miss?”

Well, duh. She could have said something more clever than that. A chorus of insulting giggles followed, through which the embarrassed girl blinked away tears, deciding she best leave, run away. Be somewhere else, anywhere but here, right now. Just before she could muster the courage to leap for the closed window of the classroom and wrench it open, the teacher cleared her throat, resuming their lesson.

“Well, in a sense, yes.” Sister Gertrude’s voice was pleasant and calm, and with a wave of her robed hand Aedos’s embarrassment was forgotten. “By their very nature, dragons are cruel and fierce. We are lucky that there ever existed a peace-time between ourselves and the Dravanians.” Sister Gertrude gave a dramatic pause, stalking the room, allowing the children who were paying attention to mumble questions of their own.

“...And although there was a peace. The treacherous nature of the dragons reared its head before long, and SNAP.” She stopped suddenly in her tracks and clapped her hands in a faux jaw-bite, and excitement rippled through the classroom.

“They fell upon our ancestors with jaws of steel and breath of hellfire!” The Sister hissed and chuckled, beginning to pace the classroom once more. She winked at Aedos, causing the little girl to grin, the embarrassed glow of her cheeks fading.

“Many Ishgardians perished, and many more fled, for how else were they to survive? Yet outmatched and betrayed by their draconic allies, there were those of our ancestors who did not falter. The strongest, brightest, most righteous Ishgardians came together to protect those who could not protect themselves. Under the ever watchful gaze of the Fury, the order of Our Knights Most Heavenly was formed — and they’ve kept the walls of our city safe for a thousand years since.” The silence that had now overcome the classroom brought a polite grin to Gertrude’s face, knowing she now had all of the children’s attention. “Now, can any of you tell me the names of any of our faithful Knights?”

The lesson continued on — a few offers and the occasional innocent query came from the crowd of children, but the pace and direction of the lesson were single-handedly led by Sister Gertrude. Before long, a bell chimed through the hallways and signalled a close to the morning lessons. Hubbub and excitement coursed through the stone halls of Our Lady of Perpetual Grace, doors clicking open and closed, squeals pealing along corridors as lunches were unpacked and exchanged, bargained and hoarded.

Aedos quickly grabbed up her bag and took the girl seated next to her by the hand, pulling her up “Come on, Marion. We’ll lose our spot!” The two young girls raced up to Debrillont and Elmerique who were already halfway out the door. They made their way to the crowded benches of the cafeteria, the quartet of young elezen ladies carving their own spot out at the end of a bench. Once seated, they all began eyeing up each other’s lunches as pouches and boxes were freed from satchels.

As Debrillont leaned over and snagged a honeyed oat biscuit out of Aedos’s lunchbox, she teased, “We almost thought we’d lost you to the fae again, Valerie.” She darted her hand back, prize captured, in time to dodge Aedos’s gawking face and slower arm.

The nickname grated the girl, How many times do I have to tell Deb just to call me Aedos? She had made it clear she didn’t enjoy attention being called to her already comically long surname.

“Hey!” Aedos shoved her bottom lip out and readjusted her oversized glasses as they wobbled down her nose, with Elmerique taking the opportunity to mimic Debrillont’s maneuver and steal another biscuit.

Aedos’s mouth squirmed and she shielded her lunch from any more thieves. Once things seemed settled, she pulled out a neatly folded crepe and broached, “There was a robin outside the window, didn’t you guys see it?”

Marion, the small, mousy-haired elezen smiled and opened her mouth to reply.

“Hey, we should go to the library! The Sisters said they were getting new tomes in!” Debrillont said, completely ignoring Aedos’s question.

Elmerique pricked up at their blonde pack-leader’s proposal, agreeing quickly. Whilst Marion, not quite as keen, shifted her eyes reluctantly as she closed her mouth from being interrupted and pulled the wicker lid of her lunch basket closed.

“Come on, we can grab a look at the good ones before everyone else barges in after they’ve eaten!” Debrillont continued. Not one to waste time, she got up and left her belongings where they were, marching down the hallway in a commanding, determined fashion. The rest of the troop followed shortly behind, bringing their own belongings as well as Deb’s.

Champlechaun’s Fourth Critique of Modern Readings on The Enchiridion, A Twelve Step Guide on How Best to Hide from Dravanian Invaders, How to Tell if Your Spouse is in League with Heretics, and more than two dozen other tomes decorated a small trolley with the sign ‘New Books’. Whilst the other girls murmured and flipped through a few of the pages, Aedos’s eyes were caught on a simple-looking book that seemed to be squeezed on to the bottom of the shelf. Wedged under The Enchiridion and You: In Halone we Trust, was a thin, leather bound book, its pages a faded, greasy yellow. Turning over the leather binding in her hand, she noted the outside was not labelled like most other books seemed to be. Turning past the blank leaflets of the front, she came across a scrawled title. Removing her glasses, and tucking one of the metal arms around a pocket of her backpack, she began to read Dravanian Shapes and Skins recorded by one ‘Eadric the Chaste’.

The journal seemed to outline a number of encounters the writer had either experienced or heard recounted from knights and travelers. The text itself was dry and meandering, but every second or third page held a detailed sketch, done in ink, of claws, or wings, or jaws. For any other Fury-fearing child of eight winters, this might have been the seed of many a restless night, birthing images of nightmarish monsters. But this particular young girl was gripped with a hunger: she dove into the texts and sketches. Absentmindedly, the girl roamed past bookshelves, eyes glued to the pages of the journal, her fingers turning through the parchment and tracing their tips over the scaley images.

Time quickly faded into obscurity as she grew more and more engrossed, no longer bored of the dreary, analytical recounting of battles and sightings. Aedos’s mind found itself focused, nourished and blooming with the book’s fantastical depictions of creatures that commanded strength and ferocity along with beauty and majesty.

When the belltower chimed its signature din to call an end to lunch, Aedos was pulled back to the present by an insistent nudging at her shoulder. The warm brown of Marion’s eyes greeted her as she finally looked up from the book’s pages. “We’ll be late! Come on!”

The would-be dragon-fangirl’s eyes adjusted and she looked over at the desk where the librarian was sitting by the library entrance. Aedos looked back down at the book, still in her hand. She thought of how much more she yearned to study it. It was far-and-away superior to any of the drab Enchiridion extracts that seemed to flood the bookshelves. She should request to borrow the book from the librarian. She should ask them if they had any more texts similar to this one. She should. But a twinge of doubt pricked at her mind. She was running late for class, and the Sisters wouldn’t want that. If she was late, she would be scolded for her tardiness as well as her inattentiveness. The book swiftly slipped from her hand and in to her backpack.

Marion helped Aedos up and the two quickly mustered themselves from the library, their feet pattering back along the emptying corridors and back to their classroom. The two shuffled back to their desks, seemingly not late enough to be reprimanded or snickered at, crossing past Debrillont and Elmerique who were sitting pretty in the second row.

Marion whispered to the little book-thief, “You shouldn’t steal.” And Aedos just gave her a wide-eyed look, about to reply, when Sister Gertrude cleared her throat and called for everyone to take their seats.

Afternoon classes wrapped up two bells later. Debrillont shot up to the front of the classroom, speaking with the teacher, her movements urgent. The rest of the class packed their pens and books and began chatting. Sister Gertrude nodded to Debrillont, and bid her a good afternoon as the girl turned and waved to Aedos. Standing by the door, Sister Gertrude offered her ritual farewell to each of the children in turn as they left.

Aedos gave a quick, chirpy “See you,” to Marion before making her way to exit the classroom. However, when she approached their teacher at the door, the woman did not wish her well.

Instead, Gertrude reservedly requested that Aedos remain behind for a moment. Blinking in confusion, the young elezen agreed, and bid her classmates off with an embarrassed flick of her hand as they all passed.

Once all of the students had left apart from Aedos, the older woman — dressed in her austere red and white Halonic garb — turned toward the confused girl. Gertrude’s countenance was troubled. Wrinkles creasing around her jowls and brow. “Now, I hate to ask this, dear. But do you mind if I have a look in your bag?”

Dread clutched at Aedos’s chest. She failed to stammer out a response, her tongue drying up in her mouth.

Sister Gertrude gently pried up the canvas backpack in question and opened it. At first, she let out a gentle, reassuring hum of forgiveness and apology, preparing to crack a remark about the almost untouched lunchbox. However, the holy sister’s eyes caught a glimpse of something, riveting her on the spot for a heartbeat. She then fished out an otherwise nondescript leather journal from the satchel.

Wincing at the discovery, Aedos piped up, her guilt immediately revealing itself, “Wait! I c-can explain! You see I was just borr-”

Her explanation was cut-off by the very deep furrowing of Gertrude’s face as she began to read from the book. “Oh dear, oh dear,” the nun muttered, colour fading from her already pale face. With a click of her tongue, the sister shook her head and clapped the book shut, “You’ll be coming with me, missy.”

As Aedos grabbed her bag, her other hand was grasped tightly and the girl was whisked down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. They passed a few concerned teachers, and a couple of students that turned on them in terror, watching Sister Gertrude stalk away with Aedos flailing in-tow.

Aedos found herself finally halted, standing in front of a large, ominous red oak door. One hand still on her backpack, the other grasped in her teacher’s palm. Gertrude knocked on the door. A moment later it opened, a woman clad in the familiar white and red Halonic priest attire stood there. This woman’s face seemed to perpetually sag: the downward turn of her facial features illustrating, in equal parts, a harried and perturbed look to any emotion the woman might show. Atop her head sat a small pointed white cap, a thin red spear emblazoned on the front, flanked by rows of shorter, parallel red lines.

“Mother Superior. Please excuse my interruption, but I’ve an urgent matter to discuss.” Sister Gertrude shook the heretical book in her fist, her voice groaning in something akin to fear.

The mother superior nodded and stared at Aedos as she ushered the two of them in to the pale-toned room of her study. A heavy oak desk rested at one end, with several trolleys of books stacked next to the wide window on the opposite wall to the door. Sister Gertrude passed the offensive piece of literature to the other woman and watched as the latter began to flick through its contents. “Mmhmmmmm,” she hummed.

“I’m not sure where she got this. But everything we are grooming these young women to be will be for nought if we have heretical nonsense like this roaming about.”

“Yes. You are quite right.” The woman with the hat replied, continuing to look briefly through the pages before slapping the tome shut and down on to her desk. She turned to Aedos, “Tell me. Where did you get this book?” Any politeness that the young girl might have expected was completely absent: it felt less like a question, and more a command.

“Th-the library,” Aedos stammered.

“Nonsense. Don’t lie to me. Where did you find it?”

“I-I’m not lying. Miss Agathieux, I’m sorr-”

THWACK.

“Show some respect!” Agathieux roared as she slapped the girl’s cheek.

“Y-yes, Mother Superior, sorry.” Aedos’s eyes bored into the floor as she felt her legs go weak, but stayed standing. She touched her burning cheek lightly, hissing reflexively, and then wrung her hands together, entwining her fingers.

“Don’t fidget,” Agathieux reprimanded.

“Yes, Mother Superior. Sorry, Mother Superior.” She clenched her fists and then relaxed them, eyes still turned down.

“If you don’t tell me where you found this book, or who gave it to you, then you will have to be punished.”

“I-” Aedos began, and then swallowed. “I found it with the new books in the library.” She looked up, “I thought it must have been ordered in with the others.”

“We only keep educational material in these walls, little girl. Does this book seem enlightening to you?” Rhetoric seeped from her voice, and it was all Aedos could do to not answer in the affirmative. “Either you are still lying to me. Or something even more worrisome is afoot. Either way, this book is hereby confiscated. And you — you will be put to daily cathedral polishing for the rest of semester as penance; as well as a full week’s suspension from classes and school grounds. Effective immediately.”

The young girl’s eyes went wide and she shot a pleading look at Sister Gertrude, who averted her gaze. Judgement had been passed.

Upon returning to school after her suspension, Aedos was frightened. When she spoke with her friends, they rebuffed her requests to spend lunch together, telling her they were busy. Several times she did sit with them, disregarding their appeals for her to sit elsewhere, but on these occasions she found they wilfully ignored her, talking over her when she spoke. There weren’t even any attempts to steal her food, either, and somehow Aedos found she missed that, too. So she sat alone, and waited for the day when enough time might have passed that they would forgive her, for whatever she had done wrong.

Days became sennights, and sennights became moons. Eventually the next year of schooling came around and Aedos found herself in a class of entirely new faces, a chance to make new friends. But the damage was done, and she did not find that trust could come to her so easily anymore.

Her studies, having already been prone to bouts of dreaming and inattentiveness, also began to decline. Images and tales of menacing scalekin prowled her mind, and she found it easy to become lost in them when her lessons demanded much less romantic subject matter. She still kept abreast of the required study material in history, geography and martial studies, but only just skated by on the thinnest of ice in mathematics, enchiridion studies, and literature, managing to maintain the bare minimum to pass each subject she did not care for. Students and teachers grew to expect little from the girl, and it was a great surprise to many when several years later she began to devote much of her time to squiring under House Fortemps with some modicum of success.

[presumenothing]

superhero confidential [#1]

[ marvel au ]

A rose, by any other name Eighteen hours with some of our mightiest heroes

THE FIRST MEMBER OF the Avengers I speak to is Toyama Kazuha, better known as the Black Widow.

"I don't know if we're still really the Avengers, officially, what with the Accords being up in the air and all," Toyama-san says thoughtfully as she helps me through the many non-disclosure agreements and liability waivers required for this interview. "This here's the last one, I swear – it's just in case, so much weird stuff happens when both Heiji and Shinichi-kun are around that our insurance stopped covering it."

If there's a way to respond to that statement, I don't know it.

"Like, alien weird, but also normal weird." She shakes her head as she files the papers away in their respective folders. "Trust me, you don't want ta know."

I do, actually – what could possibly constitute 'weird' around this group of people? – but she hurries me out of the room, and off to meet the rest of the maybe-not-officially-Avengers.

LIKE MOST CELEBRITIES, POLITICIANS, and other public figures, the basic facts of the various Avengers' lives are common knowledge, though some more by force than by choice.

Toyama-san, for example, has not been shy about acknowledging her roots, ever since her identity was fully confirmed in her massive online leak of SHIELD data. Fans and martial arts enthusiasts alike often frequent local dojos in hopes of seeing her drop by to give impromptu lessons on practical fighting for self-defence.

Her fellow Osakan – Hattori Heiji, aka the Falcon – has been much more vocal about promoting his hometown. It's often joked that he skywrites tourism advertisements on his days off, but meeting him in person actually lends plausibility to this notion.

The duo make up half of the current four-man team, at least on paper.

"Budget cuts, y'know, we're runnin' on a skeleton crew," Hattori-san says laconically when he meets us at the door of the conference room we're using. "Can't be helped."

"You either want us to play nice with the Accords committee or you don't, Hattori, stop complaining. And for the record, I am so blaming you if a skeleton horde actually appears later."

That's said by Kudo Shinichi, whose story – contradictory versions of it, even – has been chronicled in every historical account of the WWII period and the past decade. He has famously refused to comment on the details of his past, except to (just as famously) confirm that he has never held any form of American citizenship, nor does he have any plans to.

The last member of the quartet arrives two minutes later, trailed by a robot bearing a sizeable tray.

"Now that you've jinxed it, Kudo-kun, I'll make sure to update the emergency protocols accordingly." Miyano Shiho, formerly known as CEO of Miyano Industries but now as the Iron Lady, steps aside for the robot to roll up to us and place its tray on the table.

Toyama-san promptly ditches me to get a better look at what turns out to be an assortment of snacks. "Ooh, the good stuff! You're the best robot overlord, Shiho-chan."

"Yes, well." Miyano-san produces a holographic display out of nowhere and taps it deftly several times (raising the question of whether the Avengers Tower does, indeed, have contingencies for skeleton invasions) before dismissing it with a wave. "I do have Kudo-kun's metabolism thoroughly documented, though serum effects certainly don't account for Hattori-kun's appetite."

"Nothing accounts for his appetite," says Kudo-san in chorus with Toyama-san.

"It's the only 'enhanced' thing about Heiji, really," the latter adds. "Don't think that was what the Accords meant, though."

Hattori-san doesn't even try to deny either part, though he does look a little abashed when he turns to me. "Anyway – since we're all here, do you want ta start with your first question?"

Watching them interact like this – that is to say, without any active threat to our continued existence – is engaging enough in itself, but I gladly take the opportunity to broach the topic that's already been mentioned three times: the Sokovia Accords.

As often happens in cases where the evidence mostly amounts to opaquely-worded press releases and supposedly credible inside sources, speculation about the Accords has run rampant, drawing conspiracy theorists out of the global woodwork. In this case, though, the truth seems rather more mundane than fiction, if more convoluted at turns.

For starters, they're now known as the United Peace Accords, dropping all references to the Sokovia disaster and other past incidents.

"We wanted a name that reflected the actual goal of this agreement – or our goals, at least," Kudo-san explains with a slight frown. "Not something seemingly guaranteed to incite reaction with everyone involved."

Does the change reflect a similarly major shift in the Accords' content?

This gets several wry smiles around the table.

"There was a little... difference in opinion, let's just say," ventures Toyama-san, to a badly-concealed snort from Hattori-san.

"Suffice to say, some parts of the regulations were more controversial than others." It's Miyano-san who takes up the narrative – perhaps surprisingly, for those who have heard rumours of her staunch support for the Accords. "Which our two – gentlemen – here took upon themselves to bend and break entirely, until they uncovered a plot to attack the UN ratification summit in Vienna. Fortunately, this gave us enough leverage to push for major changes to the Accords, and a much longer grace period."

"Kudo and I are really good detectives, what can I say." Hattori-san grins fiercely. "Just as well, too, the nonsense they were proposing wasn't ever gonna work with us. They're actually letting us talk about this now?"

"Within reasonable bounds, yes." Miyano-san shrugs. "Nothing specific, and nothing that might interfere with the ongoing investigation. I believe they've realised the extent to which no press is, in fact, bad press."

"Took quite a lot of diplomacy to do it, though, which is why you weren't invited," Toyama-san quips. It's intriguing to watch her expression flip from the neutral one that's made her the public face of the Avengers to pulling a face at Hattori-san and back again.

It's also a much-needed reminder that superheroes don't stop being people, even when they're on the job.

Kudo-san rolls his eyes at their antics and looks over at me. "And they call this a team. Next question?"

                                                      PAGE 1 >>

(references this part)

[grumpygardener]

Attachment

When we moved in, there was a medium sized bush where the driveway ends by our side yard.  I didn’t have a clue what it was and, truth be told, didn’t even really think to wonder about it.  Next spring when it bloomed, we learned that it was a lilac bush.  It was beautiful and fragrant and kind of cool.

I spent the first two summers of owning this house in Montana, visiting my family.  Adi stayed home and took care of the house and the yard, which included pruning the lilac bush.  By last summer, Adi’s health had gotten worse and it was on me to take care of the yard.  True to my grumpy gardener name, I wasn’t thrilled about the work.  In fact, I did pretty much as little as possible - I let the yard and Adi’s beautiful beds fill up with weeds and everything overgrow.  When it got so bad that we feared a note from the town about our weeds, I got everything under control ... enough.  I weeded and cut the grass, but when it came to (what felt like) detail work (i.e. pruning the lilac bush), I just wasn’t having it.  Adi did warn me that lilacs spread - they have root balls that like spawn underground and send up new shoots to grow new lilac bushes.  Left to their own devices, they’ll take over.  

I did not heed the warning and this summer ... holy cow.  The lilac was HUGE and baby shoots were popping up like crazy in the herb bed.  Adi broached the subject of getting rid of it, reminding me that I’d have to do regular pruning of it to keep it contained if we wanted it.  I felt attached.  It felt like part of our home.  We both enjoyed the beautiful blooms and it provided some shade and some privacy from our neighbor.  Adi suggested that we could remove the root ball and transplant it to a container that would naturally inhibit its ability to spread.  I still felt hesitant.  So I agreed that I’d commit to the task of pruning it.  It wasn’t actually logical or for any good reason - I just felt attached to what I knew.  

Then yesterday I sent Adi a picture of the herb bed and the extent of the new shoots suddenly became clear.  In a flash, I changed my mind.  “Let’s just get rid of it!  You’re right, this isn’t worth the amount of work … let’s just, let’s just do it!” I said.  Adi, who had proposed getting rid of it to begin with, was on board.  So we made the plan for me to remove it today.  

This morning rolled around, and right as I was about to begin, I got cold feet.  Worried about what we would put up in place of it, I dragged Adi into a good half hour of researching trellises and flowering bushes to reassure me that getting rid of it wasn’t the end of the world.  Because suddenly, it kind of felt like it could be.  Attachment.  The lilac bush there is what has been and getting rid of it was an unknown.  It was something I wouldn’t be able to undo.  And what if it was the wrong decision?  What if I hated it with it gone?  What if it would take another five years to grow something of the same size in its place?  Or what if it cost a ton of money to buy something of similar size?  Thankfully for me, researching gardening stuff is something Adi loves, so we did that for a while.  And I felt better.  Adi had some cool ideas about making a privacy screen by installing a trellis with beautiful vining flowers.  Or we could do a different flowering bush that wouldn’t take over.  There were options!  So I felt better and then it was time to go out to get to work!

But again, once I got out there, I started to worry and have doubts.  Adi, ever patient and loving, reassured me over and over again until it was clear that no amount of reassuring me was actually going to reassure me.  I did a little self talk “it’ll be fine.  We’ll do something awesome in place of it!  And oh my god, look around, this thing is out of control!  It’s spread so much!  I don’t want to deal with this!” Adi pointed out that we’re working towards planting as many edible and useful plants as possible, and there are pretty limited uses for lilacs (for us at least).  So by replacing it with something else, we’ll better focus our time and energy, as well as be able to make a smart decision about what goes there.  And still, I felt so unsure.  But I started cutting away the branches and without too much time or energy, it suddenly was bare and half its original size.

And I thought “wow, this looks great!  It’s so open and spacious and man that thing was taking up SO MUCH space here!”  But also, I felt a little sad because it’s the one piece of nature visible from Adi’s bedroom in the basement.  And I really enjoyed watching it come to life this spring.  And I guess that’s okay.  In the end, it’s okay that I’m kind of sad to see it go and also excited about the transformation.  

I am not actually done with the project - still have to saw down the parts that are sticking up and then dig out the root balls, which is going to be a BIG job.

Anyway, my emotional rollercoaster over removing it is so typical for me.  I get so attached to things being the way they are just because it is familiar and I guess that makes me feel safe.  I hate change and transition and the unknown.  Even if I know what a change will look like or bring about, it always feels safer and more comfortable for me when things stay the same.  I get attached.  And it makes life hard.  It creates these emotional rollercoasters - anxiety, stress, indecision.  In the end, almost always I ended up just getting equally attached to whatever the change brings about, so you’d think I’d have learned by now to be more open.  But nope, I still get so attached.  So, I’m grateful to the lilac bush for giving me the opportunity to practice letting go and loosening my grip a little bit.  We’re making space for new things and that can be exciting and bountiful.

[brightlycoloredteacups]

Proposal

@splendor-e It’s super short, but I hope I did it right. Thanks for being so sweet. And the anon that sent me a few messages yesterday, honey, I’m working on your suggestions as fast as I can. They were all so good. 

Ivar had to wonder why, when it came to you, his confidence always failed him. When Siggtrygg got sick, he knew exactly what to do. When a particularly difficult client called him with complaints, he knew exactly what to say. He was Ivar Lothbrok, youngest son of Ragnar Lothbrok, he’d made literal billions for his family’s business because he knew what to do. You? You were a complete mystery.

           When his brother’s came home after taking you to the jewelers, they had crowded him. Ubbe pressed the ring you’d picked out into his hand as they told him what you wanted. They’d managed to remember every last detail. Now, they had put that plan in action. The best part about it? You had no idea.

           The niggling fear in the back of Ivar’s mind wasn’t that you’d say no, it wasn’t even the thought that he was unworthy of you. It was that it wasn’t what you wanted. He feared you told his brothers random ideas you’d gotten from the crap you read just to get them to shut up. You had given him absolutely everything he wanted in life, he wanted to give you the same thing. He wanted every dream you had to come true, more than anything, he wanted to be the one to make that dream come true.

           It was ridiculous the amount of effort everyone had to go through to get this all done. Ivar had been prepared to do it all himself, maybe get Siggtrygg to help with a few things, but the way his own family had rallied around him was touching. Even Bjorn had gotten in on the plans. He was sure it had more to do with the fact that it was you he was marrying, rather than out of love for Ivar himself, but he didn’t want to think about it too long. He was ready to lose his nerve.

           As the limo neared his home, Siggtrygg became more and more antsy. If Ivar was nervous, his boy was excited. He’d been bursting to tell you everything since Ivar broached the subject with him. “What’s gotten into you?” You ask him, sensing something was going on. “You have to put this on,” Siggtrygg says, passing a blindfold to you. You frown, looking to Ivar. He just gives you a smile. “Siggtrygg?” I ask, knowing the boy is weak.

           To his credit, he turns serious. “Father and I have been planning this for months, don’t make me ruin it now.” You chuckle, but put the blindfold on anyway. Ivar passes Siggtrygg the ring, he pockets it, smile splitting his face in two. He’s as eager as Ivar is to get everything over with.

           Eventually the limo parks itself in the driveway. Ivar opens to door to see his father looking for him. Ragnar rushes to the side path the leads to the back of the house, immediately, soft music starts playing. Siggtrygg helps you out of the car. “Boys?” You ask. “What’s going on?” Siggtrygg merely giggles and begins to lead you to the back yard.

           Ivar watches as his brother’s try to hide themselves as best they can. At one point, Hvitserk takes a running leap behind some bushes, almost knocking himself out on the branch from the tree behind him. You giggle. “What on earth is going on?” As you reach your destination, Ivar leaves and Siggtrygg leave your side to stand in front of you.

“You can take off the blindfold now,” Ivar says, grabbing his boy’s shoulders for support. Siggtrygg places his hands on top of his father’s and squeezes. They give you a moment to look over everything. They watch your face for any signs of reluctance or despair, but all they see is surprise and wonder.

           The entire back yard is covered in small candles, all light to give everything a soft, dim glow. The music playing is loud enough to fill the air, but not loud enough to distract you. Flower petals are strewn about the ground, reds, pinks, and oranges mixed all together. You look at your boys to see they’re standing in front of a heart shaped arch Floki especially made just for the occasion. It has flowers the same color the petals on the ground weaved into it. Ivar feels ridiculous doing all this, but at the tears that spring to your eyes as your gaze settles on him, he couldn’t feel more right in his decision to do this for you.

           “What can we say?” Ivar begins. “Ever since you entered our lives things have been that much happier, that much brighter.” He shrugs. “Siggtrygg and I had given up on ever finding someone to share everything with, but then we found you.” Tears are streaming down your face now, happiness welling within you. Siggtrygg begins to speak now. “We love you, mother,” He says, not to be outdone by his father. “Everything is so much warmer now, it’s nice to know that you can come home to hugs and kisses and laughter.” Siggtrygg brings out the ring from his pockets and opens it. Your tears turn from silent ones, to sobbing. It’s THE ring, the one you picked from the jewelers. The ones you’d been dreaming of since you saw it. It’s there, in your son’s hand, it’s real and solid.  “We just want to know if you’ll be ours forever.” Ivar’s voice is so soft, so hesitant. Like even after all this time you’ll say no.

           Somehow you manage to sob out a ‘yes’, but nod just in case it wasn’t clear. Siggtrygg whoops and begins to jump. “She said yes!” He yells, “She said yes! She’s really going to be my mom!” Ivar pulls you into a wet, crushing kiss. You return it as best you can, but you’re laughing and crying. Ivar is ripped from you as Floki brings him for a temple kiss. You’re aware of being picked up and spun by an excited Hvitserk. All around you there are flashes as pictures are being taken.

           You eventually find yourself back in Ivar’s arms as he kisses you, finally slipping the ring on your finger.  

Sorry if this is a complete mess, I’m sort of nervous posting it. 

[scottbcrowley2]

Robert J. Samuelson: The coming welfare wars - Wed, 25 Jul 2018 PST

The Trump administration may have declared it over, but a new War on Poverty is coming anyways. It will be fought largely over the “work requirement” – should the government require welfare recipients either to get a job or to train for one? It’s a philosophical as much as a practical question. A work requirement addresses a dilemma of all welfare programs. If you make eligibility and benefits too generous, you destroy the incentive to work. People will just collect their welfare checks. But if the program is too stingy and strict, many genuinely needy people may lack support. A work requirement tries to disarm this dilemma by conditioning welfare benefits on having a job or training for one. There’s already a work requirement for TANF (Temporary Assistance for Needy Families). That’s traditional welfare; it mainly assists single mothers and their children. Now the Trump administration proposes work requirements for two huge programs: Medicaid, health insurance for the poor; and food stamps, now known as SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program). A little background. First, these programs are huge. According to a new report by President Trump’s Council of Economic Advisers (CEA), Medicaid had 71 million recipients in 2016 and cost $566 billion, counting both federal and state contributions. (The program is jointly funded.) SNAP spending in 2016 totaled $71 billion for 44 million beneficiaries. TANF is the smallest program of the group, with spending of $31 billion for 3.9 million recipients. Second, the debate over the work requirement excludes older and disabled Americans. No one is suggesting that the elderly or disabled be forced to work. The focus would be on able-bodied and non-elderly people between 18 and 64. Disability status would be determined by classification under two major disability programs: Social Security Disability Insurance (SSDI) or the Supplemental Security Income program (SSI). In 2013, reports a new CEA study, there were about 17.2 million adult Medicaid recipients who were neither disabled nor elderly. The comparable figure for SNAP was 18.6 million beneficiaries. In both cases, about half the recipients didn’t work at all and nearly another 20 percent worked fewer than 30 hours a week. This strikes Trump officials as bad and unfair. It’s bad because it isolates low-income workers from the labor market and makes it less likely that they’ll develop the skills that will enable them to improve their living standards. It’s unfair because it violates popular norms. “Society generally expects ... non-disabled working-age adults” to work, the CEA report says. At another point, the report notes: “As women’s role in the work force [has grown], so [have] social expectations of work for single mothers on welfare.” Although the report doesn’t propose a detailed work requirement, it provides enough information to imagine what one would look like. Suppose, for example, Medicaid and SNAP recipients were required to work at least 30 hours a week. Crude calculations suggest that about 25 million recipients would fall under the work requirement, though there would be some double-counting between programs. Hold it, say critics. In practice, an expanded work requirement would hurt the poor. The complexities of any program would result in people not satisfying the requirement and, as a result, losing benefits. Studies of the TANF work requirement also raise doubts about how much long-term employability of the poor improves. The CEA report, says LaDonna Pavetti of the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, a liberal research and advocacy group for the poor, “says nothing about the realities of the low-income labor market. There’s a lot of movement in and out of jobs. Workers don’t get benefits. They can’t control their hours.” The CEA study “doesn’t acknowledge what it takes to get into the market,” she says. Workers need child care and job training – both are expensive; neither is broached extensively in the report. Moreover, some critics argue that the number of welfare beneficiaries who don’t work is overstated, because the economy has improved since 2013, when the survey data was collected. So let the political wars over welfare begin. The House of Representatives has already passed legislation imposing new work requirements for SNAP; the Senate has not. There’s plenty to argue about. Is this a problem in search of a solution? Or a solution in search of a problem? Robert J. Samuelson is a columnist with the Washington Post Writers Group Robert J. Samuelson: The coming welfare wars - Wed, 25 Jul 2018 PST

[thereal-tsuki-llama-blog]

The Proposal

I decided to post it, because I can’t control my impulses. I won’t label this as spoilery, because it’s just one ending out of a hundred potential endings, and I make zero guarantees that Sacrifices will end anything like this super happy, pie-in-the-sky fluffy ending. Certain details which would be spoilery have been removed or changed. Think of it as more of an AU ending to Lost in Translation.

Warning: tooth-rotting sugar below the cut.

Misaki perched on the edge of the bed and ran her brush through her hair, one long stroke at a time, while she contemplated her strategy. She’d been building up to this question for the past month, trying to come up with an approach that didn’t involve just bluntly asking. This was a big question. It needed context, and she needed to give him time to start thinking about the ramifications before she actually came out and told him what had been on her mind. She didn’t want to blindside him with her proposal.

Hei was stretched out against the pillows, already in his pajamas - well, if flannel bottoms and no shirt counted as pajamas. His nose was buried in a book; he usually read while she finished up her work before coming to bed. Continuing her strokes and putting off the question for a couple more minutes, she glanced covertly over at him - just in time to see his gaze flick from her back down to the page. She bit back a smile; he liked watching her at mundane tasks, but it embarrassed him to be caught. So she always indulged him, and pretended not to notice.

It was that little endearment that finally gave her the courage to broach the subject. “Hei,” she said, putting down her brush and turning towards him, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

He closed the book around his index finger to mark his place and looked up at her in concern. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” she added hastily. “Well, it is a little serious, but it’s good serious.” His brow only creased more at her terrible explanation. “I mean, there’s just something that I’ve been thinking about for a while now, and I wanted to discuss it with you.”

“Okay.” He set the book on his nightstand and sat up, away from the headboard.

Misaki scooted back so that she was sitting cross-legged on the bed now, turning the hair brush over in her hands. “We’ve been doing pretty well, right? I mean, I know things were hard in the beginning, but, I think we’ve made a lot of progress, and for the past few months we’ve actually been a stable, normal kind of family.”

“I think so too,” Hei said slowly, still clearly confused and uncertain. Shit, she was making a mess of this.

“Right. So I’ve been thinking about the future. I don’t want to throw any more chaos into our lives, because god knows we’ve had enough of that; but if there was any time to do it, it would be now. Because, like I said, everything is sort of…normal.”

Hei’s hands closed around hers; he pried the hairbrush from her grasp and set it beside them on the mattress. “Misaki,” he said levelly, gazing into her eyes in that way that always made her breath catch, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right. Sorry.” She took a deep breath; it was now or never. “I have my annual appointment with my gynecologist next week; she’s going to ask me about replacing my birth control. And I was thinking that, maybe...I wouldn’t.”

There. She’d said it. It was out in the open, and she couldn’t take it back. She held her breath and studied Hei’s face for his reaction.

He was still frowning in confusion. “You want to just use condoms? That’s fine; I mean, if that’s what you want.”

Misaki laughed in spite of herself. All this worry and planning, and she’d forgotten how absolutely clueless he could be; she should have just asked straight out. “No; I mean, I don’t want use any birth control at all. And just - see what happens.”

She saw the dawning comprehension spread across his face, softening his concerned frown into disbelieving surprise, his eye lighting with warm delight.

He squeezed her hands tightly. “You -” he began, then started again. “You want - you mean it?”

Misaki nodded and bit her lip, but it wasn’t enough to keep the smile from spreading across her own face at his obvious joy.

“But,” Hei said, letting go of her hand to run his fingers through his hair. “Are you sure? You had so much trouble the last time; I don’t want to put you through anything like that again.”

“I know; I won’t deny that that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do,” Misaki admitted. “But the situation was completely different then. I was under so much stress and pressure, and you -”

“Weren’t there.”

“Were on the run for your life,” Misaki corrected him gently. “And now you’re here, and you will be here.” She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. “The more I think about it, the more I can’t stop thinking about it. I want another baby with you, and I want us to do it right this time. I just wasn’t sure what you would think. And you don’t have to answer right away - it’s a big decision, and we can wait to make it.”

Hei wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap; she traced the scars on his chest absently. “I don’t need time,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers. “My biggest regret out of my whole life is not being there for you and Reika; and I know I don’t deserve it, but the chance to do this with you, from the beginning,” - his hand slipped under the hem of her camisole to rest warmly on her belly - “and grow our family even more - I can’t even describe what that would mean to me.”

Misaki smiled and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “So that’s a yes?”

He cupped her face and kissed her. “Yes,” he said, then kissed her again, holding her close while she tangled her fingers in his hair and tried not to forget how to breathe.

“Um,” he said when he broke the kiss at last, “since we’re talking about serious things…”

“Mm?” Misaki asked, her eyes on his lips as she ran her fingers down his chest to his stomach.

“Well, there was something I’ve been meaning to ask you too.”

His sudden awkwardness pulled Misaki out of her reverie. “Hei, what is it?”

He let go of her to turn towards his nightstand and pull open the drawer. Misaki couldn’t help peeking over his shoulder; that drawer was his own space, something that she’d made sure that he had when he’d moved in, where he could keep things that were private without feeling like he was hiding anything from her. She was careful to maintain that boundary and never open the drawer herself. As far as she knew, the only thing in it was the feathered talisman that Amber had given him. Amber had treated him so horribly, and Misaki hated to see Hei hanging on to any kind of reminder of that time - but she couldn’t deny that it had held significance for him. On that basis, she couldn’t begrudge him the token.

However, when he opened the drawer, she didn’t see the talisman. The drawer was empty except for a small, square black case, which Hei removed. Her brow knitted in confusion. Why would he keep jewelry in there? Misaki wasn’t in the habit of wearing jewelry, and Hei wasn’t in the habit of giving her any. Was - oh god, was it stolen? Why did he have stolen jewelry??

Then he opened the case, and her heart skipped a beat as everything suddenly became clear.

“Well, like you said,” Hei began awkwardly, holding the open case in front of them, “things have been going pretty well for the past few months. I know you know that I love you, and that I will be here for you and Reika until the day I die - and longer, if I knew how. A ring or a signature on a piece of paper won’t change that for either of us. But I thought that you might like to make it legal - well, official, anyway; I don’t know if we’ll ever be legal. But mostly, I want the rest of the world to know what you mean to me.”

All Misaki could do was stare at the ring in its white silk bed. It was simple and elegant, a small diamond flanked by two brilliant blue sapphires on a silver band.

“You can say no,” Hei continued. “It won’t hurt my feelings; I know marriage isn’t very important to you. I just needed to ask.”

Misaki thought her heart might burst from happiness. For all her intense contemplation on the idea of having another child, marriage hadn’t once occurred to her. It hadn’t occurred to her that it would be on Hei’s mind, either - but she kept forgetting what a closet romantic he was. Of course it would be important to him - and if it was important to him, then it was important to her.

“Hei, it’s beautiful,” she said somewhat breathlessly. “But, you haven’t actually asked me anything.”

He blinked at her, and she smiled. “Right,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve spent weeks deciding on the ring, then trying to figure out the best time to ask you…I never actually planned what to say.”

She couldn’t imagine a more perfect time or place. “It doesn’t have to be anything special; just ask.”

He placed the soft velvet case in her palm, then wrapped his hands around hers, blue eyes gazing deep into her own. “Misaki, will you marry me?”

She nodded, suddenly unable to find her voice. “Yes,” she managed to whisper at last.

Hei broke into a huge smile, one of those smiles that was still so rare that she treasured each and every one. “Really?”

Misaki laughed and threw her arms around his neck. “Of course!” She kissed his cheek. “I love you.” Then she kissed his lips, and somehow Hei managed to get the ring onto her finger without breaking away. His hands returned to her hips waist and pulled her even closer into his lap as she gripped his upper arms, marveling distantly at the added weight on that single digit.

Then the door to the bedroom burst open. “Mom, Dad, there’s a spider -”

“Reika,” Misaki said sternly, tearing herself away from Hei’s kiss and shifting from his lap, “what have I told you about knocking first? You’re supposed to be in bed.”

Their daughter hovered at the side of the bed. “I know, but I got up to pee and there was a spider in the bathroom and -” she broke off suddenly to stare wide-eyed at Misaki’s hand where it still rested on Hei’s arm. “Mom, you’re wearing the ring! Did he ask you??”

Misaki glanced at Hei, who only raised his eyebrows innocently. “Yes, he asked me.”

Reika clambered up onto the bed and settled next to Misaki to inspect the ring. “What did you say?”

“I said yes, of course,” Misaki laughed, and wrapped an arm around her daughter.

“I knew you would. Do like the ring? I helped pick it out!”

“Did you?” Misaki turned to Hei, who was smiling warmly. She kissed the top of Reika’s head. “It’s perfect.”

[jodieshazel]

Anti-Competitive Alert? Marijuana Slotting Fee and Pay-to-Stay Contracts in California

Shelf space is a big deal right now in California cannabis.

With the roll out of the Medicinal and Adult-Use Cannabis Regulation and Safety Act (“MAUCRSA“), our California cannabis attorneys see all kinds of agreements between and among licensees. From IP licensing to white labeling to distribution contracts, we’re beginning to see people emerge from the shadows and enter into written agreements with each other, which is undoubtedly for the best given the amount of litigation that already exists in the industry and given the amount of fighting that’s sure to come regarding commercial disputes. Lately though, what we’ve seen a lot of are “pay-to-stay” and slotting fee agreements between cannabis cultivators, manufacturers, distributors, and retailers. In these agreements, cultivators, manufacturers and distributors are locking retailers into contracts for dedicated, prime-time shelf space. The question, though, is whether such agreements are kosher in California and what you need to know to have a reliable, enforceable, pay-to-stay contract.

California is still pretty dynamic when it comes to contracts between licensees. Unlike other states, California hasn’t really broached the subject of massive restrictions on contracts between licensees (the lone exception is the most recent of proposed permanent regulations that attacked IP licensing and white labeling between licensees and non-licensees). Other states are very particular about licensees exerting undue influence over each other via contract when it comes to things like control, term, and the legitimacy of services/goods being provided to the licensee. Here in California, though, the following are pretty much the only contractual restrictions that exist between licensees in the marketplace:

A licensee shall not perform any of the following acts, or permit any of the following acts to be performed by any employee, agent, or contractor of the licensee:

(1) Make any contract in restraint of trade . . .

(3) Make a sale or contract for the sale of cannabis or cannabis products, or to fix a price charged therefor, or discount from, or rebate upon, that price, on the condition, agreement, or understanding that the consumer or purchaser thereof shall not use or deal in the goods, merchandise, machinery, supplies, commodities, or services of a competitor or competitors of the seller, where the effect of that sale, contract, condition, agreement, or understanding may be to substantially lessen competition or tend to create a monopoly in any line of trade or commerce.

(4) Sell any cannabis or cannabis products at less than cost for the purpose of injuring competitors, destroying competition, or misleading or deceiving purchasers or prospective purchasers . . .

(6) Sell any cannabis or cannabis products at less than the cost thereof to such vendor, or to give away any article or product for the purpose of injuring competitors or destroying competition . . .

In turn, licensees pretty much have free reign to contract for whatever they want for however long they want without fear of interference from state regulators (so long as such agreements basically don’t amount to anti-competitive behavior). In addition, in case you’re thinking that licensee contracts don’t matter, California already passed legislation ensuring that commercial cannabis contracts are indeed enforceable in state court so that no one is left holding the bag over some illegality defense to performance.

On to slotting fee and pay-to-stay agreements. When you walk into the grocery store, the retailer likely isn’t just arranging products by name or color. In fact, what’s likely going on is that certain shelf space for new products has been negotiated and paid for by a manufacturer. And with good reason. In commodities, especially saturated ones, face time with consumers isn’t great and margins can be really poor and the competition is vast. In California, only cannabis retailers can sell to the public, so it’s hugely important for wholesale and distributor licensees to have good placement on shelf space in dispensaries and on the retailers’ online menus. The slotting fee agreement essentially amounts to the lump sum fee the supplier pays to the retailer to reserve their sacred, strategic shelf space. The pay-to-stay agreement (which can be similar to the slotting fee) typically takes things a step further where it’s instituted after the initial slot and addresses issues for existing products like marketing, promotion, inventory stocking, failure fees, and paying extra to ensure that your competitors don’t get any valuable shelf space near you or at all.

What should go into these contracts? Like any other agreement, if you’re the supplier, you want to fully articulate exactly where your placement will be in the store, how often that placement occurs, your inventory schedule, what happens in the event you cannot deliver on the inventory, what happens if no one wants your product despite its placement, what happens if the retailer (for its own benefit) wants to place another, better performing product in close proximity to yours, and the list goes on and on. Suppliers of cannabis in California should not be paying robust slotting fees to retailers willy-nilly. Even though retailers have a lot of leverage where there are still so few of them and because they’re the only licensees with a daily, face-to-face relationship with the public, if you are a supplier of a recognized brand (or even if you’re consistent with product potency and quality assurance testing), you still have some leverage where many cannabis consumers are still coming to the marketplace trying to decide what they like. The other reason cannabis suppliers shouldn’t be paying super high slotting fees is because the contract could be invalidated not because of the cannabis aspect, but because it’s anti-competitive in nature.

You’ve probably already concluded that the companies that can afford the highest slotting fees are the ones who will make it to the shelves of cannabis retailers in California. And you’re likely not wrong since retailers also have to financially survive in this newly regulated marketplace and slotting fee agreements certainly help to allocate the risk on what products to buy and re-sell (or not). In addition, the bigger cannabis brands may not even face the prospect of these contracts from retailers because the retailers desperately want to carry on them on their shelves anyway. That begs the question then of whether slotting fee agreements and pay-to-stay contracts are actually anti-competitive in violation of MAUCRSA. There’s no doubt that they certainly could be if retailers band together and start to create extremely high, universal slotting fees. Or if suppliers decide to lock up entire dispensaries. The upside, though, can be that retailers are actually more willing to take on new products since they shift liabilities for their failure back to the supplier, the slotting relationship makes product distribution more efficient, and consumers can benefit from lower prices where the retailer can better allocate its risk on investing in the presentation of new products. In any event, state regulators have stayed silent on this practice for now (although the FTC, the sleeping giant of the cannabis world, has debated the subject a good amount).

The bottom line? Unless and until regulators squarely address it or suppliers start to sue over the practice, if you’re presented with or need a fee slotting agreement or a pay-to-stay contract, make sure that you check the box on the details of the relationship. Make sure, too, that you’re avoiding anti-competitive terms and conditions if you want to make hay in California.

from Canna Law Blog™ https://www.cannalawblog.com/anti-competitive-alert-marijuana-slotting-fee-and-pay-to-stay-contracts-in-california/