First Week Of Inktober: This Year I’m Doing A Few Of My Favorite Bands Chronologically And Candidly

You and Me.

We're in this together now.

We will make it through somehow.

The cost of war

Prompt: “if you’re going to let me down, let me down gently.”

Requested: @laserglassspider

*rubs hands together maniacally,* fuck my sad mood. Time to turn this into something GREAT. Judeth...John....good luck....

As always, enjoy 💋

——————

After everything....

this is what takes the powerful couple down? The high table? No... John refused to allow this to happen. He had bled and cried and fought for this. For her. He would not relent now. No matter his hatred for the table. She was still Judeth Clayton. His Judeth Clayton.

The tower was quiet. She stood frozen in the throne room. So much had happened. Lalienna, years and years ago was tried and banished. Countless balls and parties were thrown in these hallowed rooms. And then finally, she had ended it. Ended Athena. Cut off the bastard queens head. Helen has quieted the Baba Yaga in this room. Judeth could still feel a presence of Helen. She needed her...she needed her angelic strength to endure the christening of her reign. She shuddered deeply at the thought. It was behind her...she had survived. And now...now she wondered if she wanted to. For John was angry with her. Well, not so much her, but the table. She was a part of the table now. And she had to play the part of the queen. She had to make decisions she didn’t want to. And John, her lover, her black angel, tried to see through it. He knew it was for an act. He knew her intentions were pure. But it still hurt. It stung deep, slashing him new each day. He laid beside her each night and held her. But she felt distant. She felt-she felt cold. The table was wearing her down. Hell, the table was wearing him down as well. His punishment had only begun when he was beaten that day during his trial. Now she was their dog. Their slave. He had to run and bow with each beckon and call. He had to obey, for he sold his soul for his life. Just to live the rest of his days...with her.

Judeth Clayton.

Now she was afraid. She felt she was losing him. She had nearly gone insane when Lalienna showed up. The jealousy she felt. Hers and Helen combined were eating her alive! She was so angry. She snapped. In her irrationality, she pulled a gun on her long lost daughter. John was her ‘husband’. Lali was her daughter.

Incest.

It wasn’t incest. But it was. To her, it was. She was ready to pull the trigger...she almost did. She would have if John hadn’t intervened.

Tears stung hotly against her cheeks. She was truly falling into a deep pit of psychosis. Helen had relented her hold on her, but she still held the guilt of all she had done. She couldn’t handle Helens love and devotion to John. Hell hath no fury of a jealous woman.... how could she compete? They had grew up together. They were each others first love. And then Helen was his latest. He loved her with the fire of a thousand suns. She felt shadowed by Helen. She was a goddess. How could Judeth stand by johns side and sleep in his bed when she was not Helen.

That night was only a brick to the tower of doubt. And now she stood in that crumbling tower, metaphorically and literally. She didn’t have to turn around to know who was walking into the room. His shoes sounding his forthcoming, her nerves lighting up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

“John...” a crack in her voice showed her emotion. She didn’t turn around to face him. He stood behind her then, feet apart. There was silence between them so thick you could cut it with a knife. She felt ready to collapse; and though she wished to embrace him, she kept her stance. Finally, she spoke.

“If you’re going to let me down...let me down gently...please” she whispered barely audible. Again there was silence. More tears fell silently. This was torture. Pure, awful torture.

“Judeth, look at me.” Not a command, a request. A sharp cry emptied from her throat as she heard his voice just as broken as hers. God, they were inevitable. They were doomed. But they were impossible to separate. They knew this. They couldn’t leave each other. No matter their insecurities and problems, they belonged together. They were in this...together. Two hearts becoming one.

She turned, swallowing her pride. What little pride she had left.

“I swear to you-“ she choked. “I swore to you all those nights ago that I was yours. Completely. I pledged myself. I made it clear that I want nothing of the high table. It is my duty, just as it is yours to serve them. Please, Jonathan. I can’t take this anymore. You’re killing me. I am yours. Completely. Wholly. You’re blood, Your ring in my veins. I am yours.” She gel to her knees, clutching her chest. Her heart- she was afraid it might literally break. She had never felt this way. Gregory, she did not love. That was not a marriage. That was a job. A punishment. Abuse. But John...she loved him. She wanted him so much it ached. “I swear to you...once more my love, that I have no intention, no want or need to rule. I would throw away this fucking crown if I could. I hate it. I despise it. I-I-“ She could no longer speak. She just heaved, almost vomiting. He was on his knees as well, pulling her into him. She shushed her gently, rocking her. This wasn’t the first time they held each other in this room. After Athena’s death. After Helen broke the Baba Yaga. They embraced. Now was no different. They both sat broken in each others touch, clutching to their lover for dear life. They feared each other. But they could not live without each other.

“I know. I know. Forgive me.” He mumbled in her hair, choking on his own tears.

They sat there. And they consoled each other with their words, touch, and kisses. They were broken lovers. But slowly, achingly slow, the shatters in their hearts began to mend. Almost reluctantly, the scar tissue began to cover the wounds of their hearts, healing. Together.

Together they fell. Together they would rise.

Meanwhile, within the private confines of his office, Santino leaned into his window frame watching a flock of doves in the garden below as they bathed happily in the stone fountain, chirping to themselves in the afternoon sunlight. He was immensely glad to be home at last. He enjoyed international travel even if the different time zones tired him. Regardless, he found nervous reserves of excitable energy the moment the plane landed, to go out, breathe foreign air. Explore. He'd been to every corner of the globe he could attend, maxing out his passport twice before he was even twenty-eight. No sooner did he land in one city than he wanted to strip it of its beauty and riches and take flight to another. The food, the music, the women, history, art, architecture. They all enthralled him, captivated and enlightened him. His favourite was always travelling across Asia. Singapore, Thailand, Malaysia, China, Japan. So much history, it made him dizzy. The temples fascinated him. The monks and their chanting, their combat. The way they could meditate for hours on end, removing their souls from the living world yet remaining present, focused. Incredible.

Yet, no matter where in the world he went, there was never any place like Rome. His homeland. His birth nation. Here is where he belonged. Where he felt freer and safer than any destination ever before. He would jet set off for months on end, restless, hungry for more... but Rome called him back. A lover to her breasts. He sank into her tender embrace. Here... in his estate, surrounded by his loved ones. This was where he needed to be. He loved London too, the empire humbled him, its vastness outstripping anything Italy was capable of producing in terms of sheer geometric land mass. The people were so unified, so patriotic and good-natured. A little rigid perhaps. Still very Victorian in their behaviours. The class divisions were clear amongst the people. The rich were rich, the poor were poor. A steady stream of middle-class citizens kept the nation rolling on the backs of hypocrisy and terminal bloodshed.

When he attended the Continental, he had no intention of staying any longer than it took to present his face to Athena with his High Guard. A token offering of respect. There were issues with minor gang members and lower Camorra mafia teams that ran a money-laundering racketeering ring along the red light district. Athena had written to him personally, inviting his attention. Inviting... Huh! He scoffed at that. She diplomatically demanded the Prince of Rome present himself in her nation to remind his men of the stringent rules of arranged compliance for their trade in her city... or they would meet with significant family losses. He was at a loss. Gianna gave the list of names a cursory glance and decided immediately that the work was beneath her. Her brother would dispatch on her behalf. She didn't waste her time with two-bit pistol-toting wannabe thugs. That was his job. And he resented her for it.

"Jon Marco è un tuo problema, Gianna, perché devo sempre fare il tuo lavoro sporco?" (Jon Marco is your problem, Gianna, why do I always have to do your dirty work?)

He'd argued with her.

"Perché mi devi, fratellino. Ti ho salvato la vita, mantieni l'ordine lungo la ragnatela. E smettila di darmi problemi. Ne ho abbastanza del tuo piagnisteo. Lavora, per una volta! Fuori dalla vagina di una donna." (Because you owe me, little brother. I saved your life, you keep order along the spiderweb. And stop giving me a hard time about it. I've had enough of your whining. Work, for once! Outside of a woman's vagina.)

Oh Gianna! She infuriated him beyond belief sometimes. That look of tense fury in her eyes, the way she looked down upon him, almost in faux pity. He'd warned her before that wouldn't think twice about slapping that narcissistic look off her face. He hated her puffed up, over-importance. Ever since their mother had left she had assumed the role of lady of the house. And Lorenzo had tolerated it. Allowing the bitch to push her weight around as though she owned the place. God! He argued with their father bitterly, swearing to the Gods that he would not spend another night under the same roof as her. And he didn't have to. For the moment he turned eighteen his father had bestowed this estate upon him with a look of relief.

What was that for? Was he so impossible to live with? It wasn't his fault, it was theirs! Gianna's mainly. He got on well with father. But that bitch sister of his... God!

Well, no matter. He shook the memory away and freed his phone from his trouser pocket, thumbing the screen absently and opening his banking app. He sought to review his statements for the last two months. What he was doing was stalling. He hadn't wanted to front to conversation with Judeth Clayton. That White Woman was... unnatural. Detached. Disassociated from the world around her. She lacked warmth, humility, presence. She was beautiful, yes, some eight or nine years his senior, but already the cracks in her beauty began to show. Those eyes... They haunted him. He found himself remembering them at the oddest occasions and with the memory came a crawling discomfort in his chest. The English were too militant. Too rigid. There was something never quite right about them. Some sort of dark discipline that permeated their presence and stripped the air of its joy. He didn't want to face the call. The berating he knew he was in for. The whole affair in the Continental with Sable and Hector and Lalienna had unhinged a portion f his sanity, leaving him feeling disconnected and powerless. He couldn't accept it. At least here, in Rome he was lord of his own means once more. He needn't fear the oppression of another ruler. He could manage his father. He could manage Gianna. Everything seemed a hundred times more manageable now.

Sort of.

He was unaccustomed to being made to wait or having his summons ignored. It offended him that Lalienna did not present herself at his table for breakfast. She'd not attended lunch either. Nor had Ares. He would make allowances and swallow his displeasure for now. The girl meant no offense and he sympathised with her plight at being transplanted so wilfully across whole countries to please him. She would need time to adjust. Gather herself. They both needed time to heal. To his heart, healing began in the intimate embrace of her body. He'd enjoyed her vigour, her rejuvenating sensuality and nearly unquenchable thirst for heated, passionate love making. He never rejected her advances, relishing in her need to explore his physical terrain, testing the skin to see what would give way beneath her fingers. He rarely rejected her advances, even if he was tired or distracted or otherwise mentally engaged. She seemed to always find a way of dominating his will, to bring him back to her body. He bled himself to love her. But the trip to Austria had been a veiled blessing. In a way, he needed the solitude and distance to ground himself. He'd felt it coming on multiple occasions that in each session of passionate embraces, he was losing something of himself in light of relinquishing it to her needs. She was draining him of his spirit. Through his cock, it seemed.

Until her affair left him cold. Then it had all changed. He was no longer warm and yielding. Rather, he'd pushed her way entirely. Abandoning her to her private demons.

What a nightmare. He didn't think he'd ever be able to look upon London the same way again. That city had brought with it demons and nightmares he was not prepared to endure. And prayed he'd never have to again.

Something wasn't right. Among his men. Among Christov and Hector and Ares. They...they were distracted. Preoccupied at the table. They looked to each other and the rest as if they were in the midst of uncovering something great and he was not part of the unveiling. He couldn't put his finger on it. Perhaps it was just tiredness. Lalienna had not attended his needs for days. Then again, he wasn't the same young man he was at twenty-one. His ravening after sex was better controlled. He relaxed knowing he had a Mistress to attend him when and if he desired it. And she was explosive in his bed. But not recently.

He pushed the thought away and with it, righted himself from the window frame, clearing the room and seating himself heavily into his sofa. He closed his banking app and pulled up his contacts, scrolling until Judeth's surname appeared on screen. He connected the call... and waited.

Within three rings the woman answered in alarmingly clear Italian.

"Buon pomeriggio signor D'Antonio." (Good afternoon Mr. D'Antonio)

"Grazie, signora Clayton. Confido che il giorno ti abbia trattato gentilmente?" (Thank you, Lady Clayton. I trust the day has treated you kindly?)

"As well as can be expected. I thank you for your concern." She returned in English. Her Italian was clear and well elocuted, but her English... that accent made him feel things. She was positively delicious to listen to on the phone. He would enjoy this exchange after all. He remembered the power rush he'd gotten off meeting her face to face. The battle of wills between them. The game... It felt good, so long as he was winning. But he couldn't win her. Not for all his charm and swagger, he couldn't win her. So he'd try now. On the phone. The way he did Lalienna whilst he was nations away.  He licked his lower lip, leaning back into the tobacco coloured leather of his sofa and purring, almost sensually into the phone in his richly accented English.

"Lalienna tells me there is conversation pending between us. I called to push it into traction. How can I be of service, Lady Clayton?"

A heartbeat passed between them on the line. He'd chosen his words carefully. She was thinking. Her reaction was like a whip to the shoulder blades.

"You can start by telling me on whose authority you sought to transplant my daughter from English soil to Roman territory, Mr. D'Antonio."

Ouch! The sting. She was so direct. So... aggressive. So completely out of her depth. He liked it. He had her off balance. Which card would he play? How would the tarot fall?

He decided to take her with swords. That seemed the most prudent. The English understood power. Now he would show her his.

"My own authority. " He began, meeting her with a direct thrust. "Your daughter is now my employee, Lady Clayton. The Camorra has absorbed her assets, expenses and losses the moment she pledged her allegiance to my sister, Queen Regent, Gianna. Are you suggesting, we did not make it perfectly clear that she is our property now? She serves a new King , White Woman. Our King. And he is Roman."

God he was sharp. He spat the honorific almost as if it was distasteful. And it was. He had no love for the Tower, Athena or her Iron Fortuna syndicate. Their arrangement was purely statutory as far as he was concerned. A formality. He owed the English crown nothing.

She was silent for moments. Likely bleeding out slowly. But she returned to conversation presently and her tone betrayed no weakness.

"The Camorra has,  in recent memory, been an organization born and bred on the honour of family and its traditions, Sir. As such, I merely enquire as to why you have affronted me with the discourtesy of removing my daughter from the hands of her English Masters without, at bare minimum, a simple phone call to pre-empt me of your intentions to take her with you? Am I to believe I class so lowly; that I was not worthy of your attention? "

Bold move... She retaliated with veiled flattery and the hidden threat of a knife blade. He was stimulated. She was worthy even as she hinted on debasing herself.

"No! Perish the thought!" He assured her. "I admit, I was remiss in not calling to ask for your pardon. Even if I do not feel I had to." There it was, his fire. He threw it in her face and continued. "But I understand family more intimately than you would know, Signora. And I respect that I have caused you anxiety. I assure you, Lalienna is healthy and safe and will come to no harm in Rome under my care. The time has come that we complete her initiation under Lorenzo D'Antonio. Your Queen relinquished her on a political loophole. We merely caught her in the undertow. Her English "masters", as you call them, are as inconsequential to her wellbeing as are her ties to Iron Fortuna. " He meant to tell her that included her. But he held his tongue. He'd said enough. He would not allow this woman to dictate the terms of the agreement to him. What he did with the disowned was his business alone. He'd not justify himself to anyway save his father and sister and even then it was not without heavy resistance.

"I'm afraid her disassociation from my syndicate is not that simple, Mr D'Antonio.  There's still the matter of her hotel membership that needs to be settled."

"I personally take responsibility for her on-going maintenance. I will request Signore Jeremy dispatch her accounts to Signore Julius here in Rome."

"I decline your request, Mr. D'Antonio. Her residency in London's accounts department will stay exactly where they are."

"Scusami?" (Excuse me?) He straightened off the lounge now, raising his brow.

"I said, no, Mr. D'Antonio. I refuse to allow the Camorra Miss DeMentriento's retrenchment of financial maintenance until we formalize a grace period to establish her commission of service to Italy."

"Woah woah woah," He snapped, rising to his feet and pacing toward his fireplace. "There's nothing retrenched about her situation! She had promised herself to my family on her own word-"

"Three months." Judeth insisted, cutting him off cold. "Three months of probationary service and if you find she is unable to meet the needs of the Camorra based on her criteria, then you are to return her to independent service to The Continental London where she is to live and work unmolested and free of your entrapment, do I make myself clear, Mr. D'Antonio?"

The words stung like a slap to the face. He had no intention of enrolling Lalienna's service to his family with any probationary period let alone giving her back to Jermey and Sable if she failed her purpose... alive. He'd sooner break her neck himself than allow her to walk free with any knowledge that could be used against his family. This woman was insane! He told her so.

"Sei fuori di testa, signora!" (You're out of your damn mind, lady!)

"Don't you dare take that tone with me, Prince of Rome." The words like ice as they left her lips. "You don't get to fuck my daughter and then assume you have imperial ownership of her person just because you spilled your seed in her belly."

"Che cosa!?" (What?!) He snapped... completely beside himself. He couldn't believe what she was saying.

"You heard me, you degenerate slave trader. Lalienna's clearly a child. Barely able to wipe her own arse yet. Do you honestly think I'll allow you to chew her up and spit her out like some inconvenient whore? You, are the one who's out of his mind, Santino.  I may not have birthed her, but I spilled blood in her name well before you ever came to the English scene to pluck her from the wild. As far as I'm concerned, she's still an independent contractor on loan from London and will remain so for three months. I will ensure Lorenzo D'Antonio himself is aware of this arrangement and it will remain so, without breech of protocol or God help me I'll fly down there and stick something sharp in you, capisci, pasanio?" (understand, peasant?)

With that, Judeth disconnected the phone and returned it to her coat pocket, flicking up the collar against the Autumn wind. She'd had absolutely all she could stand of that idiot Italian and his self-proposing mind games. He sickened her. She was furious. Completely indignant of entire affair. No sooner did she begin her march across the quadrangle under the escort of her personal guard, than her phone rang again. Irritated she noted the name and answered. It was Sable this time.

"Clayton."

"Good afternoon Mistress Clayton. The Continental extends its compliments and wishes to invite you as its guest to join us for dinner this evening." Still seething from her attack on the Roman Prince, she bristled and responded far too sharply.

"With whom?"

"Me..." Came the reply. Velvet-like. Seductive. "I want you to join my private table for dinner Judeth. I want to talk to you about Lalienna's account."

"It's been paid for, Sable. You know this."

"Judeth... we're not talking about money here. We're talking about contractual obligations. For ten weeks we provided a service to your ward and I second that her bill has been settled. With interest. That's not the point. The point is... Twenty-four hours ago, your ward left English soil under the employ of the Italian mafia who are not known for leaving behind loose ends. I need to know if we're to transfer her paperwork to Rome or not. And considering how delicate this matter is to you, I thought it best you join me for supper first. A little wine perhaps."

When a pause was extended, he lowered his voice and continued. "Dessert."

"Sable...." She breathed the name, a heavy sigh. "Come to dinner, Mistress Clayton. Tonight. Table Twenty-One. Eight o'clock sharp. And wear a dress."

"...Fuck...."

"Dessert. Don't keep me waiting." Mmh. That felt good. He'd enjoyed that call. Sable wore a self satisfied smile as he put down the reception phone. He enjoyed Judeth's company. More than he should, he admitted. But it was good to hear her voice falter under pressure.

"Ladies, take over the desk will you. I'm going out for a little while."

"Ooh Sir!" The twins chimed in, all too happy to relieve the handsome gentlemen of his post.

"While that cat's away..." Sang Chantelle

"The mice....shall.....play...." Chervonne completed. Purring the line with suggestive undertone.

Sable stood proud, adjusting his leather gloves as he fixed the girls with a predatory glare.

"Don't wait up."

He turned on his heel and stalked away.

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.

Neon Halos

- Various Artists

The disconnect between us is not permanent.

Help Me Save Coco the Cat for Christmas

Friends,

I know this time of year under these unprecedented circumstances have put us all under great strain. We are collectively looking forward to saying goodbye to 2020.

I am not a person wanting of material possessions. Even so, it breaks my heart to have suffered through so much this year only to find that without surgery my beloved companion Coco may not survive in spite of his own good nature and terrible start to this difficult life.

And so I have created this GoFundMe in hopes to create a miracle. I only ask that if you share it far and wide across your own social media accounts we might together raise the funds required to save a life so precious.

Every share is precious and appreciated. Every dollar raised will go towards fueling a miracle.

Visit the GoFundMe here: Help Save Coco the Cat

Please help me spread this as far and wide as possible!

And thank you. Just thank you!

- Marco Marzonni

| Bits & Pieces |

Art © Kim Joon

Swallow your pain. Only then will you be free....

JOHN WICK: CHAPTER 3 – PARABELLUM

X

Santino rose early the following morning. Before the alarm which was a struggle, for baby Cerberus woke at five and began pawing over his chest whining in his adorable little way.

"Che bambino? Sono sveglio, devi andare?" (What baby? I'm up, you need to go?)

The puppy responded by licking at his nose and cheeks, making him laugh as he captured the little dog and hugged him to his chest. Beside him, Lalienna rolled over muttering something indiscernible in Spanish in her sleep.

"Shh, quiet bambino, you'll wake Mami. She'll be cross at us, no?" Gently as he dared, he took the little pup in his arms, kissing his sweet floppy ears and made to slide out of the bed as quietly as he dared. Mindful to not make a sound as he opened and closed the bedroom door behind him and then padded on naked feet down the stairs. Cerberus thought this early morning adventure to be very entertaining indeed. It was usually the quiet lady and big brother Christov that helped him go outside of a morning. Going with daddy was new indeed and the pup thought it all very interesting. In his little head, Cerberus had already given each of the members of the household a definitive designation complete with rank and pack order. As far as he was concerned, Mami was the lady alpha followed by daddy whom the humans named 'Santino'. He liked this man, Mami liked him a great deal too, even though he wasn't pleased about being made to sleep at her back when he wanted to be at her chest. Regardless, daddy Santino spoke kindly to him and was always gentle. As it was now, Santino deposited the little pup with a compliment about his weight and let him out the patio door to run off and attend his business in the garden. The security lights flashed on when they sensed the pup's movement, preventing the little dog from having to go in the dark. The sound of morning birdsong could be heard in the air whilst the sky was still an inky shade of darkness.

Around him the household was just beginning to rise. Whilst Panchelli, Chef and the rest of the estate's domestic staff were permitted Sunday's off duty, this particular Sunday was a special occasion with the pending arrival of the Lady Gianna and Lord Lorenzo coming to visit for dinner early that evening. Santino had promised the staff the following Monday and Tuesday off duty for their troubles and afforded they all receive double pay if they agreed to once more take to their uniforms and attend the household as a complete compliment. Panchelli ran this request by each of the maids and Chef whom all agreed happily. Two days off duty during the week was a luxury that none of the other domestic servants received and few in Rome were permitted to live in a wing of their master's manner, let alone be afforded double pay for a day. They would each sacrifice meeting their friends and family at Rome's famous churches just this once and attend a make up mass on Monday evening instead. It was an agreeable condition.

As such, the maids in their pristine blue and white uniforms, complete with frilled caps and soft house slippers padded down the stairs in double-file on their way to the kitchens where Chef was already busy preparing the morning breakfast for the servants. They paused however to bow and greet their master, some averting their eyes and blushing furiously for Santino was naked from the waist up. His disheveled curls and tattooed back with the laurel that housed the Camorra crown was a sinful revelation that had many of the young maids lusting and giggling to each other.

Santino's warm smile and gentle greeting to the girls made many swoon and curtsey lower than perhaps was necessary in a bid to hide their naughty thoughts and flushed cheeks. They didn't expect the master to be present so early. He usually did not rise until after seven in the morning and began his day with coffee that they all noted had not been prepared. The senior house maid, Marie, was first to break formation from the line and ask her master if he wished to be attended and if the young lady Miss Lalienna had also risen and wished for assistance showering or dressing?

"No, grazie Marie, Lalienna sta ancora dormendo e potrei unirmi di nuovo a lei per un'ora prima di alzarmi." (No, thank you Marie, Lalienna is still sleeping and I might go join her again for an hour before I get up.)

Just as he completed this statement, Cerberus came bounding back up the garden with a tennis ball in his mouth that he'd been looking for all of yesterday and could not remember where he had left it. His clumsy little run, coupled with the flapping of his floppy ears at each step made the girls swoon entirely. Almost all of them with except for Marie who thought it best to remain dignified, came down on their knees and called to the puppy who ran up to each of the girls happily. In his little mind, this pack of females were of far lower station than him, but classified as a heard of happy sisters, for they each patted his little head and rubbed his belly when he flopped over onto his back and teased them into giving him a scratch. One of the girls tried to pry his ball from his mouth, he let her have it reluctantly, much to the girl's joy, but he quickly followed her hands and their quick movements, with an arf of delight. Would they throw it please? He liked playing fetch.

"Please, Signore Santino, can we play with the puppy at breakfast? We promise to look after him?" Begged little Lucile in her brown curls and cherub lips.

"Certo, if he'll go with you, he's yours for a few hours." Santino acquiesced. He earned the delighted squeals of the maids that warmed his heart. He pet the little pup's head once more and cautioned him to be good and not cause the ladies any trouble. Cerberus wagged his little tail in acknowledgement, but was too excited by the girl holding his tennis ball to really understand what daddy was talking about. He was always good. And never caused any trouble. Except that time when he was in the quiet lady's room and he jumped off the bed, his paws got tangled in her cables and he's accidently knocked her laptop down to the ground with a loud thud. He'd dropped very low then and rolled immediately over onto his belly, expecting to be scolded. The quiet lady huffed and stamped about the room in some frustration righting the expensive equipment and detangling his paws. He did not earn the reprimand he thought he'd get though. Instead she merely picked him up and scuffed his ears. He was very sorry. Those loud noises that human things made were scary!

All the same, the many ladies gathered him up in their arms and took him to the kitchens were all the delicious smells came from. He'd be fed something yummy if he waited patiently and was extremely cute.

Santino shut the patio door behind him and made his way back up the winding grand staircase yawning and meaning to return to Lalienna's side. On the second story he was waylaid by Hector who had just finished working out and was now headed downstairs to swim some laps of the pool.

"Buongiorno Signore!" (Good morning sir!) "You're up early. What happened? The bed on fire?"

That earned a laugh from Santino that dismounted the staircase to  the landing and came forward to give his commander an embrace. The two men exchanged a kiss and tight hug before Santino came away and rejoined,

"I hadn't thought about it, but I suppose I could go try." A chuckle from each of them as they smiled at each other knowingly. Hector was assured that his little sister Lalienna was being well treated, but he was not about to let it go to chance considering her fragile condition. He was still haunted by the questions and implications of his employer with regards to miscarriage and child birthing that Santino had alluded to earlier in the week. He was not about to allow their tenuous relationship suffer for an oversight on his part. Therefore, he bounded ahead directly.

"Actually, Signore, there's something important I've been meaning to talk to you about, man to man. Would you mind coming to my room to chat for a bit? I can make you a coffee if you want?"

"Hector, it's not even six yet, can't this wait until a little later? I was hoping to lay down a few more hours before I have to greet today. Gianna is coming later." Santino complained.

"I know, Santino, honest. It won't take very long. I just need to run a few things past you, then I'll deliver you back into Lalienna's arms. Promise."

Santino scanned Hector's face and when he saw the sincarity across his features, he raked his hand though his head and gestured the commander lead the way. He followed along until both men found their way to Hector's private rooms on the second floor. Within, Hector's apartments were furnished in modern contempory classic style with pale grey toned walls and accented cornices. Much the ex military man, Hector kept his rooms respectable at all times. The large bed that dominated the room's centre was neatly made. The writing desk, though busy was tidy and the general air of the environment was one of well kept masculine elegance. Santino made his way around the coffee table to sit upon the plush upholstered pale fabric sofa and was joined shortly thereafter by Hector who paused at his sideboard to prepare a post workout drink. He offered the mixture to Santino who wrinkled his nose at the glass and waved it away.

"You're getting soft, amgio." Hector warned.

"Quasi." (Hardly.) Santino replied, with a crude gesture at his groin that made the commander laugh.

"So, what's on your mind that you won't let me go back to bed to my woman?" Santino inquired at last.

"Your woman." Hector replied, earning a characteristic brow raise from his employer that made him laugh.

"You can't have her. I saw her first." Santino returned matter-of-factly.

"Two things," Hector began sitting closer to his employer. He'd long since learned that the best way to disarm Santino if not by sheer force of will, was to use basic sensuality do the talking for him. As Santino seemed to reciprocate male attentions, he thought it might be a good card to play.

"The first is, I found a discreet clinic in town through the Soretti's. Their daughter works in the laser skin correction office and has agreed to remove Lalienna's... eh... scaring without asking any personal questions."

Santino considered this a moment. Noting Hector's proximity and bristling under the heat of the other man's eyes. He watched him take a drink of that vulgar post workout potion and nodded his ascent.

"So make the calls. Book her the first available appointment." Hector thanked his boss and promised he would.

"And the other thing?" Santino prompted.

"Well, Signore. The other thing, is intimate."

"I'm not selling, so don't ask." Santino replied, earning a flushing laugh from Hector that couldn't help feel slightly uncomfortable when his employer made vague references to propositioning. He was already aware that at least Christov viewed Santino with warmer eyes than most. He however could not play that card to direct completion. He drank down the remainder of his glass to regain his composure and went on all the same.

"No, Signore, really. It's more than that. Only... Ares."

"Fuckin' Ares."

"Yeah, Santino, it's a big house, but nothing keeps a secret for long. Look, obviously you and Lalienna are tight and that causes a bit of contention in terms of the family. Y'know?"

"I know, I know. I shouldn't be dating a woman hired as a guard. If it makes you feel better, we were sleeping together before she accepted the job."

"That's not what I heard."

"You're going to take my word for it anyway, and get to the point, Hector. Jesus."

"No boss, Hector will do. I'm not up to the walking on water bit yet." His attempt to diffuse the heat between them obviously worked. He earned his boss' laughter and that was a good start. With a deep breath, he carried on. For Lalienna's sake.

"Signore, look, I know, it's not my place to tell you how to run your love life, and that's definitely not what I'm trying to do here. But, what I mean to tell you is, Lali's young, man. Real young. And you know that not all girls fall well into the submissive role that takes the whip like some of us guys want them to." Santino tensed beside him at these words. His body language growing defensive. So Hector played the sensuality card a little harder. He rested his hand upon Santino's cotton covered thigh and gave the firm muscle a squeeze that made the younger man tense for another reason entirely. He became passive and listened for Hector did not give him the chance to interrupt.

"Look, we all know, that like some of us, you like to play rough and hard with the girls. You have in your past, you made mistakes and flowers bleed a little more than they should. There's lines, man. Just like us as family, there's lines on what a lover is willing to take before they consider it domestic abuse." He took his warm hand a little higher against Santino's thigh and lowered his voice drawing close so that his employer had to listen intently to what was being said next.

"We're worried for her. That's all I'm saying. She's not the kind of girl that will take a beating laying down, Signore. And you shouldn't make her do it just because it feels right to you. We know you love her. But we need to ask you to be mindful of her consent and not drag her into any of those deep BDSM scenes without her telling you she wants to explore them."

"Non ho bisogno di questa lezione." (I don't need this lecture.) Santino whispered back.

"It's not a lecture, Signore. It's just me asking you to be careful with her. Seriously. Stupid as it sounds, don't take her raw and finish inside her. It's too risky. A baby would only slow her down and pull you out of the game. Lorenzo won't like it, it's too early."

"Hector, please.."

"Shh, Santino, let me finish. Listen to me..." His caress of his employer's thigh relented, now Hector grabbed the other man's chin and held his eyes, drawing in close, millimeters from the other's lips so as Santino could almost taste his breath.

"If you want to keep her, and you want her keep coming back to your bed, abandon your whips and knives. Give her everything another man never has and never will. Give her your caresses, your massages, keep her fed, keep her happy. If you're going to love her, let it be on her terms. Women... women can become incredibly malleable to a man's desires if they're well treated. You know this. You saw her eat last night. She struggled with her plate but she did it for you. And when you praised her, she lit up like the sun. Just like the puppy. Please... Santino, please. I'm begging you. We like her. All of us. You found a diamond that day in London. We should polish and keep her. Imagine what she could do for the Camorra if she's kept satisfied? Imagine what she'd do for you if you only slow it down?"

Santino was only then aware that he had been holding his breath. He nodded, slowly. The heat of his commander's eyes. The proximity between them was becoming overwhelming. He pulled away at last, getting to his feet and wishing he had a cigarette.

"Yeah, yeah I hear you." He admitted at last. "It was a mistake, what I did to her in London. I know. And we're only now making amends for it. I wasn't expecting her to ever return to me willingly after how harshly I treated her, but she did. Of her own accord. And she was hurt last fortnight at the party, when I said no to her and pushed her away. She looked so sick."

"And scared, Santino. And pissed off because of the kiss with Christov. I know you guys were tight once too."

"Not at any more. It was just a phase."

"You should tell Christov that."

Santino stopped at the sideboard and poured himself a glass of water.

"He say something to you?" He inquired.

"Enough.  Marcus has been looking after him last week. Those two have an understanding. And I already had a word to Tony and Curtis to keep it cool in public."

"Those idiots. I don't want any lapses in front of Gianna of our father. Lorenzo's leaving the palace to meet Lalienna especially. I want tonight to be perfect. No fuck ups. I want you in uniforms. All of you."

"Ares will want a tie." Hector hazarded.

"Ares wants a smack on the mouth if she's not in a uniform skirt like Lalienna. Red and black." Santino retorted. He wasn't adverse to Ares' boyish sense of uniform code but in front of his father he wanted the impression to be a great deal more formal.

"Red and black, Signore. We know the drill. Relax. Tonight's going to be fine. Panchelli and the girls have the house gleaming. We've checked over the stocks a hundred times or more. The rest of the gangs are keeping steady and Rome's working the way it should be. It's going to be just fine. You keep stressing like this you're going to start losing hair." Said Hector with a warm smile.

Reassured, Santino thanked Hector for the drink and excused himself back to his bedroom upstairs on the third floor. Hector had given him a lot to think about. No sooner did he hit the landing than Ceberus came running up the stairs with two gigging maids in toe. The ladies explained that he'd been a good boy and was enjoying the attention but was growing restless and wanted to be returned to his rightful owners.

Thanking them for their kindness, Santino lifted the pup in his arms and returned to his bedroom shutting the door quietly behind him and setting the pup down on the bed where the little dog immediately snuggled under his Mami's arms. Tired still, Tino sought to take residence beside the young woman quietly, mindful to not move the mattress. The moment he lay down her arms took his chest with a murmer of the word, "Papi."

He embraced his lover and closed his eyes but in truth he did not sleep another moment. The only thing he could consider was calling the chemist later that morning and making arrangements for his lover to be put on the pill.

Oh god yes, hello. You're wonderful! If this is appropriate for a prompt request: There's a violent world of unseen fae all around us, and in the center of it is John Wick. There was no reason for him to fly away from there, until he found one.

This is an interesting concept. I will develop the idea and commit it's organic evolution to digital paper, Ruby. I request you satisfy my visual neurons by providing me with compelling high resolution art work straight to my private inbox, please and thank you in advance. Now, I warn you Wick fans, this concept is a little alternative universe on crack, but I will try to really encapsulate folklore, ancient history, art and violence on page. If the audience approves, I will continue world building. If not, it will be relegated to a one shot shot story. No matter what, I'm inspired! Let's do this everyone!

Be seeing you on the other side, Mr. Wick. ❣️