Part Two

Tilda Swinton // Various Sources

Joker || Fracture

Readers Please Note: Joker || Fracture may contain spoilers for the film. Read at your own discretion. 

|| SIX ||

Time is flux.

The days rolled into weeks, leaving behind October and greeting November with sharply declining temperatures. Gotham woke every morning to frigid, cutting winds and frozen sidewalks. The radios, televisions and newspapers continued to bemoan the state of Gotham’s garbage crisis as the sanitation strikes rolled into their second consecutive month.

Meanwhile Thomas Wayne began his campaign for city mayor beseeching the people to hold steady for the future. It seemed his speeches were poorly received by the under classes who began to protest boisterously in the streets. ‘We are all clowns.’ Their bitter demonstration posters read. Such was the way of the wealthy. So disconnected from their workforces it appeared they weren’t listening to the people they hoped to govern at all. Even a man whose best intentions were on display was not immune to media misinterpretation. Misconstrued messages manipulated out of context.

Arthur was reminded sharply of how little attention people paid one another in this city. Everyone walked with a weight on their shoulders. Slightly hunched against the wind and rain. No one seemed to smile anymore. Not even the children as they walked holding their parents’ hands, tearful at the school gates. Fearful of a world outside the comfort and routine of their private homes. It was rough out there. They’d learn soon enough. They’d grow up like everyone else. Without a smile.

His latest visitation with his psychologist had not gone well.

“Arthur, I have some bad news for you.” He braced himself. When the blow finally came, the realization that the public health system would now be closed to him and his medication paid for at a premium that he clearly would be unable to sustain – it was like a wave had struck him in the face, tearing the air out of his lungs all at once. He’d been taking his medication for so long now. How would he function without it?

Meanwhile the Regale Theatre had opened to a full house. The musical production had performed without a hitch as a dozen or more stage hands, Arthur included, ran a series of fast paced checks ensuring audio, set and lighting were beyond reproach. There were reviewers for Gotham Times in the audience and Lauretta was not about to take any chances. Tensions ran high and Arthur found himself in the unfortunate position of having to defend his work more than once.

Early in the season he found himself party to an unwanted argument. He’d argued with Fay bitterly and broke into an agitated fit of laughter that resulted in the aspiring comedian taking a hard slap to the face. Fay had stormed away, bursting into angry tears and refusing to return to work for two whole days after. Arthur wasn’t even given a chance to explain himself. Even Freddie who witnessed the disagreement had come to Fay’s defense.

“Jeeeesus, Mary and Joseph, Artie! Where’d they teach you be such an asshole? You done deserved that slap boy! Look at ‘chu. Still laughin’? Whatcha being such a jerk for, huh?”

His disappointment purely crushing. It felt as though ice water was being pumped directly into his bowels. Sick to the stomach but unable to control the cackling peels of rib shaking laughter that plagued him. He reached into his trouser pocket and simply placed his apologetic card upon the closest table in the break room, ensuring all eyes were on him, before turning on his heel and marching away. They’d work it out themselves. He’d answer questions later if in fact he was asked any ever again. The atmosphere always seemed to change when people witnessed the otherwise docile comedian decompile into a fit of painful, choked, near sobbing laughs.

Agitated, revolted, Arthur continued his duties, attending the male dressing rooms as was his routine instruction. The play costumes had returned from the dry cleaners and it was his duty to ensure each one was returned to the correct rack in performance order before the actors returned for the evening show. No sooner had he entered the empty dressing room with its light framed mirrors that his aggression swirled and bubbled forward.

His painful laughing fit had passed but his surging aggression was uncontrollable as the scene replayed its self in his mind’s eye. He stalked the empty dressing room, furious, humiliated, hurting. Why was he always the fuck up? Why could he never find the words to defend himself when he needed them? He’d tried to explain but even so, Freddie seemed in no mood to hear excuses. And he knew he only had himself to blame. If he only rang Fay through their walkie-talkies sooner this whole mess might have been avoided. Everyone was simply trying to do their job.

He hadn’t meant to upset Fay.

It happened when Freddie had told him to move a heavy road case out of the way and into the orchestra pit. Freddie hadn’t seen or known about the microphone cables gaffed to the ground connecting to the expensive master PA amplifier rack that outputted audio for the entire theatre.  Arthur knew Fay was working on settling the orchestra pit. He’d meant to tell Fay not to attempt to move the road case until the sound engineer gave him the all clear to take it out into the loading bay. There was nowhere else to move the road case until then.

It had all gone terribly wrong.  

Arthur had turned his back for just a moment to take some cables out of the way. It was then that he heard Fay being abused by the conductor for having unsightly equipment intruding upon his work space. Irritated, Fay muttered a curse and rolled the case out of the pit crushing and tearing the audio cables underfoot in two.

A disaster!

Show time was less than two hours away and this costly mistake meant the audio team would have to frantically rig new cables to amplify the show throughout the theatre.

The blame game ensued.  Freddie had argued with Fay, Fay exploded at him and they both erupted at Arthur for failing to communicate properly.

“Christ, Arthur, this fuck up is entirely your fault! When Lauretta hears about this she’s gonna rip us all a new one!” Freddie had snapped angrily.

“She won’t if you just let me explain-“

“What?! How you cost her a sold out fuckin’ show? What’s the point of a fuckin’ musical if half the people in the theatre can’t hear the fuckin’ music- eh?” Freddie snapped, cutting Arthur off mid-sentence.

Defeated, Arthur chose to walk away. A barking cough erupted from his belly, smashing through his ribcage in a crippling peel of breath-stealing laughter that he fought to choke back. His eyes stinging, his insides burning for air. And there he found himself now, in the empty dressing room. His pain soaked eyes and contorted reflection looking back at him pitifully from the illuminated mirror. His rage overtook him. A chair was in his hand and hurtled across the room, impacting upon the mirror and shattering it into hundreds of out-blown shards with a stunning explosion of glass and noise.

He watched the wrecked glass as it lay cracked and hanging haphazardly from its frame with numb composure. He hated that man in the mirror. Hated feeling this empty sense of disconnected futility that followed the encompassing wave of crushing anger.

The cacophony had jolted nearby staff into action. Footfalls rushing across the floor. The seamstress surged through the dressing room door with Greg and two other crew members at her heels to find Arthur searing in fury. His hands shaking violently. His eyes bloodshot as he stood in partial darkness amidst the ruins of shattered mirror glass and detonated light bulbs.

That evening had not gone well.

Lauretta had heard about the argument and phoned Fay entreating her to return to the theatre. The younger woman refused in a fit of tears, humiliated at being laughed at by Arthur and belittled by the conductor. It took the theatre director the better part of twenty minutes to calm her down and explain Arthur’s unfortunate condition.

“Fuck, Laura! Why’d you have to go hire such a freak?!” Fay cried.

The words stung. Lauretta may have had personal reservations about certain members of her staff, but her rigid British up-bringing prevented her from voicing them in a professional capacity. Instead, she opted for neutrality.

“C’mon now, Fay, give him a break.” She soothed, “He didn’t mean it. This whole episode is a great misunderstanding. I’m sure Arthur would apologize if you gave him half a chance. He’s harmless, honest. A little peculiar perhaps, but deserving of an even go, like anyone else.”

“How could you just defend him like that? He humiliated me in front of everyone!” Fay wept bitterly, throwing herself onto her sofa cushions and kicking her shoes across the room.

“If I don’t, who else will? Now, you take the next two days off if you must but I expect you back for Friday night’s performance. I’ll have you, Arthur and Freddie in my office before then. We’ll talk this out. Goodnight, Fay.”

No sooner did she hang up the phone than she sent for Martha to fetch Freddie and Arthur. The two men were marched into her office and door closed behind them. For the first time in weeks, Lauretta sat behind her desk, lit a cigarette and quietly demanded the men explain exactly what had happened.

They left her office an hour later, their heads hanging significantly lower.

The broken mirror and light globes would come out of Arthur’s wages and both men received a formal warning for misconduct. They would be made to apologize to Fay personally upon her return. Arthur’s affliction had been ousted. The theatre was relatively quiet for the rest of the night. The crew spoke in clipped hushed whispers to one another. No jokes were cracked over the walkie-talkies and the only noise to be had were the claps and cheers of the audience as the performance went ahead whilst the crew sweated and swore under their breaths.

Somber and muted, the crew could not wait for the audience to empty the theatre. Shut down was as fast and efficient as ever. Staff attended their lockers and wished each other a goodnight whilst Arthur distanced himself as early as was prudent.

Without realizing it, he’d found himself hovering about the foot of the stairs that led up to Lauretta’s office.

She was up there, writing her reports and calculating her losses. She was almost always the last one to leave the theatre at night and the first to open the doors of a morning.

That meeting was the first time in two months of employment that he’d seen the warmth in her eyes fade. Her features become hard and her words cold. She was furious in the way a quiet storm might exact its wrath upon the earth, under an incessant torrent of heavy rain. So different to the shouting and yelling of his previous bosses. Arthur struggled to make sense of his feelings until he decided, this treatment was worse.

So much worse.

In spite of this disastrous episode, come Boxing Day, Lauretta had kept her promise and allowed Arthur the opportunity to perform as a roving entertainer for the Boxing Day Theatre Gala held at the Gotham Centre for Performing Arts. A lavish party that featured the board of directors for the theatre whom Lauretta paneled with were present. With them came a whole host of actors, writers, directors, stagecraft students, their families, friends, members of the media and general public. The gala highlighted excellent opportunities for students of performing arts to meet an array of teachers to discuss the following year’s courses and training programs. A busy and lively party of which Arthur was invited to entrain for two sets.

His first set would commence shortly after the opening speeches. The auditorium was outfitted with three small elevated round stages that highlighted talented performers, Arthur occupied one and was splendid in his costume. The theatre seamstress, Italian woman, Paola Midici took inspiration from the 18th century Italian comedy. When asked to fashion Arthur a great costume for his gala performance, she spent a great deal of time looking into his eyes.

“Are you happy, Arthur?” She had asked, deliberately and without preamble. Italian accent heavy still.

“What does that have to do with-“

“It was a simple question, young man.” Paola interrupted briskly. “Are you happy?”

“I suppose-“

Paola cleared her throat sharply, cutting off the aspiring comedian yet again.

“Not really, no.” He found himself admitting quietly. It was strange to say the words out loud to a stranger no less.

To this admission Paola nodded her head approvingly.

“It’s in the eyes, dear boy. Always in the eyes. Now stand still, let me take your measure.”

Now Arthur stood upon his elevated stage, in his element as a crowd gathered round him to watch as he performed classic mime, juggling and magic tricks in silence. He wore a magnificent costume styled in the fashion of the classic historic clown, Perriot. His puff sleeved shirt, waistcoat and trousers divided evenly in an array of black and white large satin diamonds. His buttons a deep, wine red. An Elizabethan ruff made of lace and tulle adorned his neck. On his head rested the tri-horned hat of a royal court jester. Spectacular, like a crown in black and white, adorned with red and silver bells that jingled musically for every time he moved his head.

His face however was of spectacular contrast. In delicate black and white greasepaint the left half of his face was painted in a great upturned smile, the right however, pulled down low in a miserable frown. Neither comedy nor tragedy. But a vision of both painted in homage to the theater he now served.

His audience was intrigued, pointing and clapping at his jubilant gestures and exaggerated dancing. He made flowers appear from under his hat and brightly coloured silk scarves were handed to a passing lady who had the good grace to laugh when she found they were tied together from his pocket in a seemingly endless string. A blue rose tied to the last one. Around her the gathering clapped and cheered. Arthur, court jester as he now fashioned himself, bowed smoothly and pointed to his cheek, wordlessly requesting a kiss. Embarrassed, the lady shuffled on heels, hesitating. Arthur frowned deeply, hanging limp and sad. The audience broke into an exaggerated cry of: “Awwwwwww!”

Pinched by the pressure, the lady thought better of her station and came forward bravely, pecking Arthur upon the cheek. Joy! He straightened and clapped happily, a merry jingle of his belled cap. The gathered crowed cheered and clapped. A far better outcome!

The lady curtsied and darted away to her giggling friends whilst Arthur bowed deeply. His performance a success. The set was complete. He bounded off the stage and made for the cluster of other performers milling about behind a red roped area reserved for theatre staff beside the bar.

“Arthur!”

Upon hearing his name he turned to find Lauretta dressed in a beautifully fitted black evening gown that trailed to the floor. Her hair gathered in an artful array of curls. Her lips the most striking shade of red that contrasted sharply with the blue of her eyes. She was stunning to behold. And smiling. At him.

Arthur removed his hat slowly, running his fingers through his hair. He strode forward and offered his hand that the director took, watching warmly as he kissed her knuckles just as he’d witnessed so many gentleman do in those old black and white films from Pinewood Studios, London.

“Arthur, you were wonderful out there, really!”

“You were watching?”

“Intently. Every sway and trick brought delight to your onlookers. You should be very proud of yourself. You have true beauty in your movements.” Lauretta replied earnestly, fixing him with a tender, appreciative smile.

“Thank you. Really. I-You look lovely tonight.” Arthur offered warmly, taking a step back to admire his employer more completely.

“As do you! Paola really has done magnificently with your costume. And your face paint  - the crème-de-la-crème to be sure. Are you enjoying yourself? Not nervous at all?”

“A little, I’m not used to performing in front of this class of society, but I am having a lot of fun. This is incredible, honest, it’s like a dream come true.”

“I’m glad you think so. We’ll see if can’t establish you in the theatre a little more fully in the new year, you’re doing very well for yourself.” The compliment delivered with all sincerity. She had watched as he mingled with her colleagues, noting the way in which Arthur had not broken down into a fit of nervous laughter.

She’d witnessed a few fits rack the man most painfully in the months of his employment. Notably soon after he had revealed to her in private that his psychologist’s office had now been closed and his access to his medication subsequently revoked.

She worried for him. He continued to function, mindful not to be late on shift and engaged in his work. But there was something about him that wasn’t quite right. She’d made calls here and there until she located an office for social services across town that agreed to assess him with a referral letter from his doctor. There was administrative work to take care of, but if it meant bettering an employee who worked so tirelessly, then she agreed without hesitation.  Arthur had first refused her help on principle. Although his position in the theatre did pay a great deal better than his commission performances at Ha Ha’s, he could not yet afford health insurance to cover the cost of private consultations. Lauretta had insisted none the less.

“We can find a way, Arthur. If you need help-“

“I can’t afford to pay you back, and I have to look after my mother.”

“So let me help you both, Arthur. Don’t be stubborn. How do you expect to carry on looking after her if you’re not well enough to care for yourself?”

The matter seemed to be settled. Though he hesitated, there was something in her eyes that drew him. He appeared so displaced and vulnerable. Something inside him ached. Words would not come and instead he began to weep silently, so starved of affection and human kindness. He would have kissed her then and there he felt so overwhelmed and broken down.

She took him in her arms and Arthur lowered wordlessly into her embrace, breathing in the scent of her rose perfume. A cruel fit of laughter took him, coughing, weeping, and shaking him from within. His ribcage burning. Every ounce of him aware that in his arms he held a woman, honest and pure. Guilt welled in his gut, his fantasies of his neighbor, Sophie, haunted him. He’d followed her to her work place. Watched as she’d walked her daughter to school and hovered by her front door, meaning to knock but unable to find the courage to let his knuckles rap the timber.

Even so, Lauretta held him through his fit. One hand caressing his back with near motherly affection, the other stroking his hair.

“It’s alright,” She’d whispered gently, sweetly. “Everything’s going to be alright now.”

He wanted to believe it.

For many minutes Lauretta and Arthur chatted together amicably. She offered him a glass of champagne that he took graciously admitting he’d never tried the drink before. The possibility thrilled him as he clinked glasses with Lauretta proudly before taking a sip …and immediately winkling his nose in disapproval.

“It’s not for everyone.” Lauertta laughed gently, enchanted as she watched his eyes twinkle. The clarity and warmth of his features were not withdrawn by the layers of face paint.

It was then that she saw him standing not more than ten feet away. A handsome gentleman dressed in a fine silk suit of pin stripe navy blue. An elegant burgundy tie at his neck and a glittering diamond tie pin shimmered in the light. He caught her eye and held it with his own deep green gaze as he rose his glass in the air, a salute. Lauretta’s smile vanished setting Arthur off kilter. He whispered her name,

“Arthur, please excuse me.  I’m afraid I’m obliged to have a conversation with a colleague it seems.” Her focus returned to Arthur’s eyes who turned to see who it was that so efficiently erased Lauretta’s smile. A group of students here, a waiter, some ladies smoking over there. It was her hand on his arm that turned his attention back to her lovely features.

“You’re doing extremely well, Arthur, I look forward to seeing your second set in an hour. Mind you travel home safely tonight. I’m sure Fay or Freddie will gladly give you a lift. Excuse me.”

And with that she was away in a flutter of black fabric and sure footfalls. He called his good night after her wondering all the while who it was that could upset her tender nature. Arthur lamented her loss as he watched her recede into the crowd.

He’d wanted to ask her to dance.

Previous Chapters? Search Tag : #joker fracture

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"Cerberus!" He loved it! The name rolled off his tongue with his Italian accent. He tried the name a few more times.

"Cerberus, Cerberus... Baby Cerbs... A baby... Oh Lali, congratulations Mami, amore mio, you're the proud mother of a darling baby boy! I'm so happy for you amore! God... look at me, I'm crying!"

He couldn't help himself. His eyes flooded as he looked at his prospective wife and their furry child. His heart was singing, and breaking... Fuck... Fuck... He wanted to get her a ring. He wanted to make it official.

Cool it.

Cool off.

It hasn't even been three months yet. It had taken him four years before he finally proposed to Marissa. He wasn't ready to rush something so important with Lalienna. But he was Italian, hot-blooded, impulsive, and she was holding a furry son. Loving him. He was praising himself. This had been his idea had't it? Oh... yeah... No it wasn't. It was Hector's.  But it didn't matter. He wanted to make her happy.

No matter the cost. Anything. Nothing would stop him from bringing a smile to this young woman's face. She was only twenty-one but she'd suffered so much. An addict and abuser for a mother, dead now. A father that wouldn't acknowledge her in the slightest. Selfish, too caught up in his own life to take responsibility for the fact that he'd be instrumental to birthing a bastard.

The Ruska Roma... The Director. That was no life, the Russian clans. They were monsters. Hard, brutal, born on blood and torture and torment. John Wick.... Fucking John Wick was revered in the Underworld. He'd come from the Ruska Roma as well. A dog of The Director. A powerful family clan. A Prince of the Underworld.

No, no don't think about John. John was... dangerous territory. He didn't want to remember that man's face right now. Somewhere deep inside his heart, he was aching at the fact that Lalienna had confessed to Wick being her first true lover. And it had been recent. Too recent. That... and the Powell Family. Gianna had been sending him missives and updates from her time in London. She would not be pleased to learn that her brother had taken flight back to Italy and removed the entire High Guard when House Powell had just declared open war against the White Women. Fuck... He was gonna get caned for this when Gianna found out. She probably already knew. He was surprised she wasn't blowing up her phone.

Perhaps... if she did... He could contract someone else to take over on his behalf.

John's face flashed in his mind's eye again. Prince of the Underworld. Lord of Darkness. They called him Baba Yaga now. The killer of the boogeyman. He'd make the call if he had to. But there was no guarantee John would accept the work. Not if he knew the depth of the back-story that proceeded the job. Perhaps he'd refuse on principle when he learned that House Powell summoned the feud because of his love affair with Lalienna in the first place.

That would be an awkward conversation. He wondered how it would play out.

'Benvenuto John, vieni a sederti con me, prendi un caffè. Ascolta, ho bisogno che tu uccida qualcuno per me. Il potenziale pretendente della tua ex ragazza a Londra. Ci stai?' (Welcome John, come sit with me, have a coffee. Listen, I need you to kill someone for me. Your ex-girlfriend's prospective suitor in London. Are you in?)

He could almost imagine that man's dark eyes darken even further at the mere mention. He wouldn't have to tell him the truth. Just that it was all business. He'd met Lalienna in London at the Continental. And he'd offered her a job considering she was unattached to any other syndicate or clan. She'd accepted. She was Camorra now under the D'Antonio's. On his payroll. That would do, wouldn't it? He didn't have to say, 'Yeah, I've also made Lalienna my girlfriend. I'm fucking her for you. Because you don't have the balls to keep doing it. Your loss motherfucker. She's my slave now.'

No way. John would empty a magazine into his head so fast he'd not have time to speak his mother's name as his last words. This was dangerous. He'd have to chose someone else. He and Wick had history when their paths crossed in the past. The Russians and Italians acknowledged each other as superpowers in the underworld. Coupled with the English, they were practically unstoppable. They'd taken on the Triads and the Japanese before and won. And lost... but mostly won.

That didn't matter now. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it. What mattered right now was Lalienna as she sat on the bed with his tiny, furry son. He was in love. Absolutely in love. Nothing could make him any happier. He wiped at his tears with the back of his hand and kissed her forehead and the baby Cerberus'  tiny ears. The little pup looked up sleepily and snuggled deeper into the young lady's arms. In his little mind, baby Cerberus had decided that this human girl smelled warm, friendly. She... smelled like blood. Mummy blood. He remembered that smell. His mummy smelled like that too. His brothers and sisters. He missed them already. Mummy and Daddy had told him that one day, soon, he would be separated from his pack to find a forever home with a new human family. That his mission would be to grow up big and strong and protect them whoever they were. This human lady was it. He was sure of it. She smelled like she needed protecting. He was tiny, sleepy and still much too little and new to this interesting world to be of any use yet. But he promised to himself, as he heard his name christened. He was Cerberus. Hmm, he liked that name.

He'd like to tell Mummy and Daddy and his puppy pack that the human lady had given it to him. She smelled warm. Gentle. Young, like him. And she smelled of blood. Young blood. Birthing blood. He knew what that smell meant. She had had a pup too... Was he her pup? Now he was confused. He was tired. The other humans were so very nice to him. They were big and strong and they held him gently and made sure he felt safe. They were boy humans. He liked boy humans. They were just like him. And they smelled warm and tender and big and strong. They were protectors. He wanted to grow up just like them.

Mmmh, his Lady Human. He loved her. She was warm... He would sleep here a little.

'Wait for me, Lady Human. I will grow big and strong for you. Just take care of me. I love you.' Were his final thoughts as he drifted in her arms to a comfortable sleep.

"Amore, I'm going to give you and the baby some time alone to get acquainted. I'm so happy you love him. The boys and I wanted to give you someone special. Someone who could love and protect you deeper than even we can. He's yours forever bella. You have to promise me to look after him with your heart and soul. Remember, he has to go wherever you go. You have to protect him and he will lay his life down for you as soon as he gets bigger. You're a mother now. He's going to make you grow up quickly. We're all here to help you raise him. Hector has raised dogs since he was a child, Panchelli as well. I don't doubt the other guards have all had occasion to look after dogs and other animals in their history. We're  all in this together. But  you are his sole legal registered owner. You'll be responsible for his training and feeding and cleaning. Because you're strong and intelligent and it will do you good to focus on his up-bringing. Never let his care make you feel overwhelmed. If you ever need a break, we're here for you. All of us. Bring him to me, I will care for him in your stead. Day and night. He's welcome to sleep on the beds and sofas.  Just be careful he doesn't get in the way of the maids when they're working. And if it rains, make sure he doesn't track puppy paws all over the house. Panchelli is particular about clean floors. . and...." He had so much more to say...

"Lalienna... I love you amore mio. I meant it when I told you there's nothing going on with Chris and I. We're idiots. Playing around, being silly. We didn't mean it. Look, you know us. We're family now. Sure, we're going to kiss and hug and sleep in the same beds some times. That's natural in my house. I do it on purpose because guards that are kept safe and warm become better attack dogs when they have something they feel they really want to protect. If I treated them like mercenaries, paid muscle... They'd treat me like a paid employer. Camorra or not. They'd go where the money and the power goes. It's love that keeps them here. My love. Our love for each other. We're tight babe. Really tight. We have history and you'll have to accept it runs deeper and longer than yours. This is still very new to you, I know. We've been together less than three months. Let's just... grow together a bit. Get your heels dug in. Feel the way we work with each other. Learn that we are family first and foremost. Business partners second."

He kissed her cheek again. His fingers caressing the puppy's warm, soft hind legs as he slept in her arms.

"Lali... we have rules babe. Lines we don't cross. We talked about this in the past but not clearly enough. We make vows to each other. There's a legitimate code of conduct that even though it's unspoken its contractual and we have to adhere to it so we don't get ourselves over-complicated when we shouldn't.  I know... what you saw last night looked like a mess. We were both pretty fucked up. Actually, we all were. I don't let them get loose like that very often. We almost never have hard drugs in the house for that reason. When we're working, we have to keep sober, straight. No booze, no nothing. It clouds your judgment, your perspective is off. Imagine having to make a business deal or negotiate a border skirmish between rival gangs when you're stoned off your face? We didn't get to be number 1 in Rome by taking potshots and injecting crack. We've got a reputation to uphold. We're operatives under The High Table. The Table in Italy is guarded by my father, Lorenzo. He's your boss now as much as he's mine. And beneath him is Gianna. If she says we do something, we do it. We don't ask questions and we don't push back. Rome is ours babe, but there's rules we need to respect. The politicians, the police, the feds. Lorenzo keeps them paid off. Yes it's corrupt but the Mafia has existed for centuries, from Sicily to Venice and back again. If we can't respect each other, and our rules. How are we going to respect them, eh?"  He got to his feet now and made for the door, smiling at her. Loving her.

"Whatever you think you've heard about my past, whatever you think you know. I urge you to ask me up front, tesoro. I mean it. I'm not going to lie to you. I'm loyal in a relationship. I'll be the first to admit I've whored about a lot when I was younger. Guys, girls, anything I wanted. But when I said, enough. That I was gonna settle in with one woman, I fuckin' meant it. No cheating. No backstabbing. No double-cross, or two-timing. It's not my style. I don't play those dirty games because I've had them played on me." He didn't want to say the rest but he did.

"Before you... about three years ago... there was a woman I was gonna marry. Her name was Marissa Conti. We were engaged. She ended up leaving me. It was complicated. Messy. I loved her and found out she was seeing another man behind my back. And sleeping with him in my bed when I wasn't home. We.... never made it past the engagement. I put an exclusive contract out on her lover. I had him beaten, abused, tortured until he confessed everything. Christov and Hector were there. They all knew one way or the other what was happening. They were all paid for what we did to him that night. I paid them to end his life. I was the one that put a bullet in his head for fucking my fiancée. ... I made her watch... And what I did to her... It cost me.....Two years. Complicated. Messy. I don't wanna talk about this now, or ever. But... one day, if you're raw about it, and need to know. Come and find me. We'll have coffee. We'll talk. But at least now, you know where I stand. You know deep down why I went insane when I found out about Devina. And baby, I thought about it. Putting a hit on her. I thought about making you watch as I blew her fucking head off. I would have done it too... But I get it. You had history together. I understand history. So you can sleep easy at night knowing I'm going to keep my word when I tell you Devina is going to live. I'm not gonna fuck with her. For you.... But Lali.... amore mio.... You're not gonna fuck with me either. Okay?"

He'd said more than he was prepared to. He was aching now. He needed time alone. He nodded to her,

"Take care of the baby." The last thing he said before leaving the room and shutting the door.

|||

Ares and Christov were standing in the hallway, chattering with each other using rapid sign language. He couldn't tell what they were saying.

"Hey boss! How'd it go? She loves him right?! We did good, right?" He came forward to meet his friends and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. He kissed both their cheeks and confirmed the idea was a masterpiece. That Lalienna had named the baby dog Cerberus, after the protective hound of Hell.  Both guards were very impressed.

'Ares, can you give us boys a minute?' He signed. The young woman saluted happily. She threw up a peace sign and knocked at Lali's door before letting herself in and leaving Chris and Tino alone on the landing.

"Walk with me." Was all Tino said. Christov did. Following at his boss' heels. He was a good dog. He'd do what he was told without question.

The men made their way downstairs. To the kitchen where Pancheilli was busy organizing rosters with the maids. The old butler immediately brightened and asked if the master could be attended but Santino smiled and told him to continue. He just wanted to make some coffee. Would he take the ladies to another room please to continue their business?

"Certo signore! andiamo, abbiamo molto da fare. Chi ha le schede attività? Vai, vai, il maestro è occupato. Non ha bisogno di noi." (Certainly sir! Ladies, come on, we have much to do. Who has the timesheets? Go, go, the master is busy. He doesn't need us.)

The maids and butler retired to the servants quarters. The chef had gone to the markets to restock the pantry. Santino and Christov were alone. Tino attended the coffee machine and served two rich cappuccinos before suggesting they go and take them on the balcony overlooking the gardens.  

Christov thanked his employer, took both their cups and led the way, holding back the door and settling down next to Tino, serving him his coffee.

"Smoke boss?"

"Per favore." (Please)

Then men inhaled and sipped their cups contentedly. Happy to just be lost in their own thoughts.

"She loves the little dog, eh?"

"Yeah... he's precious, like her. She'll love him like her own son, I know she will."

"We did good boss. I'm glad you bought him for her. She needs this. More than you'll ever know."

"Christov?"

"Yeah?"

"About last night." Chris stung inside. He dropped his eyes. Taking his coffee as the only important thing in the world. He knew this was coming. He was fucking dreading it.

"Lalienna knows something's up. Between us. She thought I'd left the bed to go fuck you last night because she was too weak and high."

"Get out of it."

"I'm serious."

That hurt. Deeply. Santino hadn't looked at him romantically since Singapore. Those kisses last night, through fueled in hatred... were something else. Jealousy. He was hurting inside. Lalienna had overtaken him.  Had taken Santino away. And he knew that would happen. That's fine. Whatever. He wasn't the main focus anyway. He never wanted to be. He wasn't a fag after all. He liked pussy as much as the next guy. He liked Lalienna's. But now... with the baby... or lack thereof. And with Ares. There was too much competition. Santino was home now. Back in the picture. He'd been pushed to the side. Again. The way he had all his life.

"There's nothing going on between us, boss. Don't worry about it. I was high last night."

"Bullshit. You didn't touch a single line. I watched you. You were sober for her. You've been guarding her with Hector and Ares more than any of the others. You know something and you won't let me in on it. Start talking."

"There's nothing to talk about, man. I mean it. She's fucked. You fucked her up good. Broke her down after the affair. She was a mess when you stopped talking to her. I told you about this remember? We had to care for her because you stopped. Because it was inconvenient."

"She's never been inconvenient."

"So long as it suits you."  God! That stung him. Like a kick to the balls. His green eyes darkened. He sucked on his cigarette and attacked.

"Where's this coming from, Christov? Hmm? You jealous?"

"Yeah, I'm fuckin' jealous. I admit it. I was pissed off. She's a really beautiful girl and you tormented her by being a dick. I would have taken her place if I could. Anything. Just to be under you."

"Under me?"

"You know what I mean, man. I've been real to you since Singapore."

"The other girls?"

"Paid entertainment. Couple of Athena's whores in London. In and out. Nothing serious." He met his employer's eyes now. And he was burning. Angry.

"Listen, I get it. Really I do. I don't fuck with the family. I don't break the code of conduct, I don't mix business with pleasure and I keep my shit on the down-low. Discreet. Outside of business hours. But what we did in Singapore. You can't tell me that was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing, Chris. It was as real for you as it was for me."

"We were both high."

"We were both lonely."

"I should have taken that bullet for you."

"You gave me another one. It was deeper and it harder than anything I've taken before."

That made him laugh. The two men eased off a bit. Yes there was still heat between them, but it was below the surface.

"Yeah well... you kinda did a number on me too. You'll forgive me for getting antsy about rules. We both blew them that night. When we blew each other. You've been my first and last guy. I wasn't expecting to feel so.... replaced."

"Christov, come on? Really? Replaced? With who? You see me putting a ring on the other boys?"

"You should probably tell Curtis and Tony to cool off then. They were practically fucking each other on the lounge in front of the girls last night."

Another laugh as both men took to their coffees and smokes.

"So we're all breaking the rules. Blurring the lines. Okay. Okay. I get it. If I mean to be a leader then I need to lead by example. And I've not been doing a very good job." Santino admitted.

"Look, London was hard man. We appreciate you giving us space to just be free and blow off some steam. We love Lalienna, really. But she's new and fragile. We gonna protect her. And that includes from our bullshit."

"You got off last night. Tattooing her. I saw you kiss her knee." Chris stiffened in his seat a little. His mouth watered. He'd... touched himself to that memory last night, alone. In his bed.

"Yeah, I did. I kissed her. But.. she wasn't into it the way I wanted to. I got off on it, but she was vacant, man. Whatever drugs she was trippin' on weren't keeping her focused. Fuckin' hot tatt though, am I right?"

"Wet dream material."

"I know, right!"

"Fuck yeah. Thank you, Christov, for marking her for me. For us. I appreciate your hard work. She'll come thank you eventually herself."

"She doesn't need to. I know she's just easing into the idea of being part of our crew. She's got a great ass though."

"Si... she does. I know... I've held it."

"So don't give me shit about being jealous. Respect brother!"

"Respect!" Both men bumped fists. Shook hands. Pulled each other into a tight hug. It lasted. And lasted.

Neither man was willing to be the first to pull away. So they didn't. They just embraced. Feeling the beat of the other's heart against each other's chests.

The air had cleared between them. Santino felt less deceptive now that he'd confronted their affair in the open. Christov roiled in hidden guilt. He shouldn't have done what he did with Lalienna. Letting her come to his rooms. Sleep in his bed. Brought her to orgasm with his fingers, with his tongue. Fuck... A hidden three-way love triangle. Right out of some softcore porno. He still wanted to show her that video. And he'd learn to accept that his relationship with his employer was always going to be a family affair. Whether he wanted to or not. Singapore was ages ago. Years ago. They'd never come back to that intimacy together. They'd gotten close. They'd slept in each other's beds. They'd kissed and fondled each other. Tino had let him suck him off, once... twice... Maybe more. Much more. And it had been incredible. But it was a dream now. Lalienna was here. And he was crossing the invisible line.

Finally, the two men separated. Christov lingered. Closer than he should. He came forward, putting down his cigarette and pulling Tino's out of his lips. He watched his boss blow out the plume of smoke he'd held from the corner of his mouth. And the moment he was done, he came forward and kissed him. Slow... gentle. Just lips touching. Nothing more.

Santino accepted the kiss. Opened his mouth a little. Telling the other man it was okay. So it built. Deeper. They're tongues exchanged an embrace and both men recognized that there was still very much a searing flame of passion between them. Unrecognized. Denied. But it existed. There were fireworks. It felt good. Comfortable. It wasn't pretentious or unsolicited. It was just relaxed. Lazy. Like sex on a late Sunday morning. They pulled away at last. Both men sighed deeply. Smiling at each other. Taking their coffee cups and cigarettes again.

"So... Santino... You breaking up with me? For Lalienna?" He smirked. Cheeky grin. He wasn't going to let this break him down.

"Yeah... for Lalienna. She's my main squeeze now. She's special. So I'm still your boss. But I'm definitely breaking up with you." Both men laughed. This felt good too. Bittersweet. But good.

"'Kay... I'm kinda pissed about it. But, she's a special girl. So I'll allow it. Because I like her too. And she has a great ass. And incredible tits. And I already got deep into her skin when I gave her that tattoo. So in a way, I've kinda already fucked her for you." That was dirty, he shouldn't have gone that far. But he didn't care. Tino laughed it off with a smirk.

"Well... if anyone was gonna honour fuck her, I'd be glad for it to be you. Because... the way she is right now...I don't think I'll be getting laid anytime soon." Tino came forward off the lounge and crushed his smoke into the ashtray. Rising to his feet and blowing out the last of the cigarette through his lips.

"She'll come 'round boss. Just give her time. She's raw you know. Girls on their periods are edgy. She's young. She needs to be looked after. Just like Ares. "

"Pfffft! Don't start me on Ares. I know she's crushing on Lali, hard."

"She'll behave. I'll get her to take it easy. Back off."

"Grazie." (Thanks) Tino said.

"Prego." (You are welcome) Chris replied watching as his employer and one-time lover re-entered the house. He didn't want to go in just yet. The air felt good against his skin. He'd have another smoke first. Clear his head a bit. He'd just been dumped, after all. It was heavy. And he still had to work for the man that dumped him. That would take adjusting. He could do this. Besides. They had a distraction now. He'd visit Lali later with the puppy. Offer to take them both for their first walk around the block. He still wanted to show her that video. Now he wanted to up the steaks. Bet some money on it. They didn't make it clear how they'd determine the winner. But he knew, deep in his heart. He'd end up back between her legs, eating her out. No time soon. Not while she was in the aftermath of abortion. But one day she'd need him. And she knew what to do. Just knock on his door. He'd let her in.

He was her attack dog after all.

Wait...

Just wait a bit...

Cool down.

Cool off.

He'd set down the phone on the sofa beside him. Reluctant to throw it in his temper. He'd burned through quite a few new phones in his aggression. These devices weren't cheap. Product warranty wouldn't cover willful and malicious damage. He's information was always hosted on private central servers. There was no fear of losing important information and even so he never kept anything important enough on the phone that could be considered incriminating. He'd learned discretion. Not trusting securities breeches that happened with anything that was connected online, to the internet. For all intents and purposes the contents of his phone simply looked like a wealthy Italian business man that dabbled in a considerable amount of foreign trade and international exchange. Stocks, land, financial lending. Art trade. Designer goods and products. Car import and export. The world didn't have to know the truth. That he was the son of Rome's most powerful organized Crime Lord. Footwear. Women's designer luxury shoes. He had a lot of that on his phone. He enjoyed buying footwear for Lalienna. Her tiny frame and dainty feet drove him wild. He could spend hours alone just worshiping her heels, sucking, licking, massaging her feet until she relaxed... until she came. He'd come with her. Incredible. He'd not even touched himself but the act of attending her feet, it was.... mind blowing. Those releases of tension and pressure had been amongst his favorite. The way she made him feel.

Now he watched her, as she kneeled on the floor, black lace hugging her curves and his white Pierre Cardin dress shirt. Fuck! She looked incredible wearing his clothes. Sleeves rolled, those fucking collarbones, the swell of her cleavage. Those eyes... she could get him off with those eyes alone. Her hair was wet. Combed neatly away from her face. He forgot what he was angry about. His cock throbbed painfully between his legs, reminding him he was a man and she was a woman. A potent, powerful women. The instinct to breed was... impulsive. His caress found her cheek, her jaw line. So warm. Droplets of her hair fell against her ear, across his fingertips. She was so sensual. She stole his breath. Those lips.... those eyes...

"Jesucristo, eres jodidamente hermosa." (Jesus Christ you're fucking beautiful.) He breathed.

"What have I done in my life to deserve someone as gorgeous as you, amore mio?" He took her in his arms, raising her gently from the floor. It didn't feel right, having her on his knees to him. Though the position was suggestive and he would have paid tremendous amounts of money just to have her suck down his length the way she did when she was between his thighs. This line of thoughts wasn't helping. She was warm and heavy against his thighs. He embraced her, hugging her to him. She'd seen the tension in his face and misread it for something else. He comforted her. Breathing her in. Placing his nose against her neck and just inhaling deeply. As if he could smell, like a dog, the intrinsic  olfactory patterns that made up her genetic makeup and decode her as his...property. No. She wasn't property. Not like this. Not when she held him, talked to him. Loved him the way she did. And he knew it, that it was true. It wasn't about the money, the prestige, the power. It was the feeling he got when she was in his arms. That he could take on the world and nothing could stop him because he was doing it for her.

His lover... his warrior... his dancer.... Mistress.

"I'm so owned by you..." He whispered into her shoulder. Smiling against the fabric. His rusty curls falling across her skin as he caressed her hips and back.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep you with me... Safe... Forever... Contra el mundo, Lalienna." ( Against the world.)

His kiss found the hollow of her throat. He'd missed her. Missed being inside her. Missed her company. He needed it. Craved it, constantly. He was so obsessed. He looked at her now, his docile, loving green eyes absorbing her warmth.

"But your mother....tesoro... Your fucking mother... Vaffanculo!" (Fuck me!) He laughed, taking hold her delicate hand from his shoulder and bringing her fingers to his lips. He kissed her... The ring of the Camorra that Gianna had given her. He lapped at it. Hotly. Like a dog's kiss.

"I called her, like you told me to. And she had words for me, alright. Do you know she called me a slave trader? And a peasant? Me... My family owns this city, my father speaks for all of Italy on The High Table and she called me a fucking peasant. Me!" He said, indignant. The rage starting to burn through him again as he gestured to the luxury of the office that surrounded them. The sofa they sat on alone was made of finest Italian kid leather and valued well into the five digit figures.

Lalienna's brows furrowed in concern. She knew Judeth well. Her diplomacy and temper were often as sharp and direct as a knife blade. It didn't surprise her in the least to learn that her lover had receiving a hefty verbal beating from her adoptive mother. It was all so much, so soon. Uprooting her from one country where she barely had the time to find herself and now put her in another strange gilded cage with other dangerous and vicious birds. Even if they were intrinsically beautiful. She tried to diffuse the  gathering heat in his eyes, pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"She's just being protective, Papi. We left London so quickly. We didn't even call her to say good bye. Of course she was going to be pissed. How would you feel if someone eloped with your daughter?"

Her reasoning was sound. She was young yes, but not without intelligence and the ability to rationalize and reflect clearly. She was much more focused at twenty-one that he had ever been. Mature. That was impressive. He nodded, sighing and leaning back against the leather, taking her with him to rest against his chest. She felt good. Heavy, female. He felt complete. He didn't give a wild fuck about Judeth or her English whores. They could all burn as far as he was concerned. He was still seething internally from the beating she'd given him. He tsked angrily.

"She wants me to test your employment for the Camorra by giving you a probationary period of three months service. That means she controls your finances and upkeep under The Continental London; keeps you neutral, employed as a contractor. She won't hand me your accounts. And she intends to make my father sign a contract to the same tune. She's.... smart. I'll give her that. She wants to control you, even though you're not Iron Fortuna anymore. Independents with Continental memberships are valuable," He didn't add expendable. She didn't need to hear that right now. "I told her there would be no probation, that I would commit you fully to my care and absorb the cost of your upkeep. You'd be paid a monthly salary that would exclude boarding costs for the estate just like the rest of the High Guard. She's like a dog with a bone... the bitch won't let go."

"Papi!" His dancer complained. She didn't like the insult. Again he clicked his tongue, frustrated. She'd likely already contacted Lorenzo. He'd speak to his father later about this mess.

"Bambina mi dispiace." (Sorry baby girl.) He returned kissing her cheeks. "Business... It's boring. More than you can handle right now. Hey... you look incredible in my clothes.... That shirt suits you..." He tugged at the buttons, one after the other. Revealing a little more of her cleavage. Distracted again by her flesh. His free hand found the swell of her rear and squeezed it. Making her smile. He smiled in return.

"How are you feeling, tesoro? We missed you at breakfast.... again at lunch. Ares' been a good girl and taking care of you eh? She said you were playing video games with her huh? She's good. Very good. What she can't say with her mouth she says with her hands. Games are good. They focus and enrich the mind. You should get her drunk and try play something from the Tekken series with her. That's worth paying for. She always picks Marshall Law because he reminds her of Bruce Lee. She lacks technique. If I want to own her I pick Nina Williams. If I want to tease her I pick Kuma, the bear. You should see how she loses her shit! It's very funny to watch." He brightened considerably now. This was fun, talking about something so innocent.

"Oh, I miss playing Final Fantasy. They are long games but the Japanese have such rich stories and worlds. I don't have the time anymore, but I used to love it. Too much work. Too many other distractions. You're far better than a game... I get to complete sensory overload without having to pick up a controller. Mmmh?" He nipped her ear and listened as she recounted her morning playing Halo again with Ares.

"It was fun, Papi! I really like Ares. She's sweet and tender. She looked after me... I'm sorry for not coming down to eat. Are you mad?"

"Not mad, amore... just.. A little put off. You know me darling, I'm Italian. This is Rome now, not England. There are few if any formalities that will be placed upon you, but sharing meals with your family is amongst one of the most important things you can attend. Sharing food is the way Italians show their love. It marks the history and culture of the region, the depth of our devotion to one another. Even if no one says a word at the table, at least we're together. Grateful, thankful of each other. It's a prayer. Eating with one another. Being with them. I understand, you've been through a lot, we both have. We both need time to adjust. London has not been kind to us. It's been especially unkind to you, amore, so you'll forgive me if I arch up over the White Women. I mean your mother no disrespect but she's fucking with the wrong wolf if she thinks she can push me around in my own house. Bah! Don't worry about that." He shook his head and pushed the thought away. Judeth.... she fucking irritated him something awful. He was smarting from the burn of her voice. In his rage he imagined dispatching his men and just... having her brutalized... raped... again. By Italians. So she could feel the depth of his hold. She had nothing to turn against him. Clutching at straws. This thing about controlling her contract was a farce. He'd wipe his balls with it. It wasn't worth further acknowledgement. So what!

"I'll let you off today. If you don't feel like sitting at table with us for the next few days while you bleed and rest, I'll forgive you without offense. But come next week, I expect you to do your duty and eat with us. We're the High Guard, amore. It's important we spend this time together. I'm going to rest the crew for a week to adjust back to Roman life but then we return to field. We have shit to get done and The High Table doesn't conform to our ideas of relaxation. They're a machine. Faceless Gods and my father is one of them. He says jump, we ask how high. That simple. We want to live in peace and luxury, we want to sleep at night with each other's bodies around us, without the fear of being shot in the head, then we do what we're told.... For now.

He let the ominous slip. Let it hang in the air. Then patted her rump adoringly.

"You look unsettled baby girl.. Uncomfortable. A little stung out. Are you high? Ares keeping you loaded? Hm?" He smiled at her darkly. Not entirely minding the idea of having his lover stoned.

"Look, when you're working I need you to keep clean. No drugs. No dope, no booze. You need to stay sharp on the field when you're dispatched. But you've got down time now babe. You're allowed to spread your wings a little. Talk to Curtis if you want something to take the edge off. Him and Hector may have a few lines of Columbian blow that might make you feel good. Mind you, you they won't give you more than a quarter gram. If you've never touched it before, it could have an adverse affect. And I don't want to rush you to hospital over a bad trip. Okay? They'll take care of you..." He thought he'd let it slip now.

"Christov and Hector seem to be guarding something intimate about you. Like they know something I don't. I'm probably imagining it. You've had a rather deep impression on them. All of them these past few months. I know you two and Ares are tight together. Curtis, Marcus and Tony may not be so clingy, but they're for you babe.... always for you. You saw them in London. Your personal attack squad. They would have gunned me down in cold blood if I didn't yield. That's my boys!" He smiled warmly, his eyes glittering in mirth. He loved his crew. His Italian Silk Mafia.

"Amore... I think... if you're feeling up to it... you should speak to Chris, about getting a new tattoo. Our tattoo. The Camorra crown... somewhere on your body. You've seen mine, I have it on my back. Gianna has hers on her hip, the others wear theirs on different places one their bodies. It doesn't have to be large. But it has to be there. I want it there. It's a sign of our brotherhood. Our creed. It marks us as a unit. Together. ... And... skin art is sexy. I think you'd look good with a tattoo... Something I can run my tongue over when we fuck... And I wanna.... fuck..."  Now his lips found her throat again... Feeling the pulsing vein under his tongue. His hands rolled over her hips... caressed her breasts. Were they sensitive? Some women complained that their brests ached during their cycle. This was the first time in the months he'd loved this woman that he'd been present for hers. He wanted to ask her intimate questions. He'd been away in Austria missing the opportunity to probe her. Now he did. Gentle, lovingly.

"How does that feel? When I touch you like this?" His warm palm cupped her breast over his shirt, rolling against her nipple.

"Hurt?" She bit her lower lip. Not pulling away from the contact but not quite leaning into it either. So he respected her reluctance and let go of her breast.

"Do you want to be loved? During your cycle?" Oh! That was direct. The words sensual, like silk, whispered in his dulcet baritone against her earlobe. He found it erotic. Switched back to Italian she could understand.  

"Non c'è pressione, nessuna aspettativa tra di noi. Quando mi vuoi, sono qui per servirti. Sai che ho sempre fame. Voglio sempre ... amore ... sesso ... con te." (There's no pressure, no expectations between us. When you want me, I'm here to serve you. You know I'm always hungry. I always want...love... sex... with you.)

"It might make you feel good. Orgasm releases hormones that fight pain. Endorphins. Better than any artificial high. I like it when you're stung out on a good fuck rather than stoned on pills. " His lips found her throat again... hot... a deep, sensual roll of his tongue before he pulled away with a groan. Meeting her eyes with his. Sinful.

"You know where my bed is now. If not mine... yours... If not yours... Then any other surface you desire. The windows, the spa, the walls. In the bath... against the shower... In front of Ares on the hood of a car for all I care... Anything... anything to make you cum for me... Mistress." He smirked. Content, Italian charm as he licked his lower lip, catching the swell between his teeth. That's it... he wanted her to be uncomfortable. On edge. If he could keep her horny she'd come to him of her own accord. He wouldn't have to push, to egg or her on or seek her out. He always got what he wanted. From the day he met her he made her do what he wanted. And it felt good. Really good. He swelled under the rush of power that flooded his veins and made his balls throb. Because she was that kind of girl... She did that to him. Made him feel incredible.

 "Go on bella... Go get some rest. You're beautiful, but you look fucked. Not the way I want you to be. You're tired. Make sure Ares brings you something to eat. She didn't bring you a plate and hasn't eaten herself she's so worried about you. That's not good baby, I don't like my girls hungry. I can deal with almost anything but self harm and eating disorders scare the fuck out of me. When a girl stops eating, I panic. It's not natural. Even if it's just biscotti and cafe, you need something. You can't survive on water alone. Understand? I'll have one of the maids prepare some plates and bring them up to your rooms if you don't want to join me for dinner. We eat at 7 usually. Our chef is incredible. But on Sunday I'll cook for you personally. I love cooking for my family. We might even invite Gianna over, if she's not too busy hitting people with her enormous cock."

That got a laugh from his dancer. He was happy. He pulled her off his lap gently and stood up, crossing the room to open the door for her. "Go on, bella... go. Papi has work to do for you. The sooner I can finish the sooner I can relax with everyone else. Why don't you get the boys, or Ares to tour you around the house and gardens? You won't get bored here. There's a beautiful library with a window seat. You can sleep in the Roman sunlight, like a cat. Just be mindful of the boys. They're big dogs and they like to chase pretty things. You'll know where to find me if you need me. I'm usually always here in the office or upstairs in the study. Ask the maids for anything you might need. If you want to go for a drive around town, you're welcome to it. But let the boys take you first. I'll need to organize an Italian license for you and then we can talk about getting you your own car. Or picking something from the garage. Marcus is our resident rev head. He'll tell you the difference between Maserati and Audi.

"You spoil me Papi! You already bought me a car in Austria!" She chirped brightly, clinging to his neck and kissing his cheek. He hugged her back, completely removing the distance between them, he held her. Warm. Tender. Pressing her to his chest. Cheeky, he teased her.

"It's only because I want to get into your garage..."

Tears formed in her jade eyes, lip quivering slightly. She held back a sob, taking a breath.

“You…you never wanted me?” It felt as though her heart was breaking. Literally. The strings of her cardiac muscles were snapping, leaving her in the worst pain she’s ever felt… and she’s felt a lot of shit. She’s been through the worst, through hell. But this…this was worse. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs wouldn’t produce the oxygen needed to stay alive. God, make it stop. Stop it! She couldn’t handle it. She clutched her heart, squeezing the fabric of her shirt in her fists. Her eyes broke. They relayed how she felt. So so so so ruined. So torn. So…worthless. Thrown away.

————

@f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // here is your angst. Do with it what you will. ;) have fun, my angel of sadness.

Drawing of Ed/The Riddler's manipulation towards Oswald

Thanks to @small-fortunes for inspiring this piece of art!

I Will Love You, Because You’re My Lady Human

I’m little, Lady Human. Tiny right now. Very small. And a little nervous and a little scared. There’s much happening around me. I was told by Mummy and Daddy that I would one day be selected by a Human family to be part of their Forever Home.  That I would have to grow up big and strong to care for them. To do them the big Protect! Because that is my purpose. So give me time, and love and cuddles. Let me play and eat and sleep. Please don’t be cross at me, if I make a mistake or make a mess. I’m learning Lady Human. Learning to walk on my big boy paws. And I’m listening to what you tell me. Even if all the words don’t make complete sense yet. I’m still listening. And I love you! Because you’re my Lady Human.

Don’t be the sad, Lady Human. I’m here for you now. You gave me my name! I’m Cerberus. That is a good name for me. A strong name! I will come when you call me.

Remember, you have your family, your friends, your amusements and your entertainment. But me....All I have is you. And I will always love you.... because you’re my Lady Human. 

They never doubted he was coming. Like the rain deep in the night. A storm. To swallow them whole.

JW. Blood of The Raven King.

Act Two. Coming Soon.

{[ Art: @rubydart || Graphic: @laserglassspider ]}

Jagged Edges

Even Gods may bleed out

Against my hands

In love

Out of hope

Out of time

Out of my mind

Stay...

Merry Christmas Everyone

To Everyone:

   This has been a hard year for all of us. We have suffered, loved and lost. Some of us will not be together this year. Some of us, are so grateful that we are. No matter where in the world you are, what you’ve been through, what’s happened, or what you’ve done: We’re here. Together. We made it. I wish you and your families a very well deserved, safe and happy holiday season. May we prosper together. Now and always,

 With Love,

    Small Fortunes

Now Open: Commissions for a Cause

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Original and Fandom works

Now commissioning Literature:

Writing Prompts

Poetry

One-shot short stories

Original and Fandom works

Now Commissioning Podfic Narrations

Emotive, engagaing, powerful voice acting by a seasoned female narrator

Multiple accents and eloqutions

Selective readings for original and fandom works at the narrator's discretion.

Readers, please, like, share and reblog to spread the word and don't be shy about writing in and sending through your requests. I appreciate all of you and look forward to working together in future!

Your Friend,

L. G. Spider