Aumerle doesn't seek absolution.

Johnny goes to Mexico, and there's one more Ex-President.

Edward receives an education in the inutility of virtue. The Earl abducts him for a session of discipline.

The first time, though of course he doesn't know it's the first time, everything went exactly according to plan. Crowley got the baby, right on time. He took it to the nunnery, and didn't stop to talk to the man waiting outside. He observed the whole thing, and made sure no funny business happened. At the end of the night, the Antichrist went home with the Dowlings.

It takes 600 more tries to get it going exactly according to the right plan.

In Egypt, the emperor sleeps poorly.

They were old stones, the stones that buried Leporino, the boundary markers of a rustic edifice or a low wall. They might have tumbled down the ravine under the weight of last winter’s snow, or at an unlucky push.

(Written for cygnes and the prompt: the secret history au where it's a jacobean revenge tragedy.)

Richie finds himself in an undesirable situation. Or: bloodsucking Geckos in bondage.

There are other ways to engineer a crisis in Gilead.

"Whatever you want," Nathan finds himself saying when his shirt comes off over his head and his glasses hit the nightstand — like he's talking to himself, which he might as well be. "Don't think about it like should, or shouldn't. Don't think. Don't fucking try and figure it out. Come on. You can keep your shirt on."

Some new coworkers are newer than others.