#fictional crime story

[strangelittlestories]

Something interesting about archaeology is that it’s actually not that interesting: even when you’re on a dig, most of it is dirt and logistics and fragments.

Something scary about ghosts is that they’re actually not that frightening: even when you have a haunting, most of it is ectoplasm and low-key longing and echoes.

The fascinating bit about both is that, sometimes, when you piece all the boring bits together, you get a story; a story of how people used to live. It will probably be a story about something mundane, like how people cooked or what their bathroom solutions were.

For example: at this particular dig, we found fragments of large cooking pots in a few larger buildings. The smaller buildings that seemed to be individual homes did not have *any* surviving cooking pots (not even any copper remnants); however, they did have at least one well preserved earthenware bowl inscribed with runes.

These runes turned out to be a close match to an early rune of co-locating folk magic, seen primarily in the Katabasic region. The bowl was also adorned with a slate inlay, of a kind that was often used to write upon in chalk.

The apparent conclusion? This settlement operated a communal cooking operation that delivered food to order. We would assume the recipient would write their request in chalk on the slate inlay of their bowl, and the runes would briefly trick reality into thinking the inside of the bowl and the inside of the pot occupied the same space. Thus, the bowl would magically fill with food.

So, yeah. These folks had invented magical Doordash.

I briefly considered trying to replicate their system on my travel mug. The coffee on the dig site was *dreadful*, so I figured I could have my husband make some nice single origin cold brew back home (or maybe a nice pot of darjeeling second flush?) and teleport it in. But as it was likely tied to local hospitality folk magic, this would likely run across three problems: 1. Range limitations. 2. It may only work for community members. 3. Folk magic sometimes used local deities or spirits as intermediaries and popping a new request in the inbox of a dormant god was usually a bad call.

Oh, and reason number 4: the bowl we’d excavated was extremely haunted.

This may, in fact, explain why it was so well preserved. Theurgic suffusation is the term - if the spirit is clinging tightly enough to the atoms of the object, then time starts to think the material is just as undying as the soul.

You know how I mentioned the scary thing about ghosts is that they’re not scary? They only persist as fully ensouled beings as long as their unfinished business can feasibly *be finished*. Even with generation blood debts, they still tend to become unviable with a couple of centuries. Then the soul slowly starts to move on, leaving only an imprint on the umbra. That’s what’s scary about ghosts: even that which is undying will be eaten by history.

Except this blighter apparently.

So I ran a chemical analysis on the trace molecules left on the lining of the bowl. Then I ran the runes through a penumbral simulation matrix.

The bowl contained traces of calcified aconite. The runes showed an exploit in the magic; the teleportation could be hijacked by holy petition or speculative conjuration.

The ghost had been poisoned. Murdered.

And if they were still a ghost, then whoever killed them was *still around*.

I really really hope that I never meet whatever person or creature is apparently still alive close to a millennia after they murdering someone in a way that is both *really clever* and *really nasty*.

But oh buddy, oh pal … what I want may be immaterial. For surely do intend to figure out the whole of this story.

---

With thanks to Ellie for the submission of the Archaeologist (fearless, frightened, fancy) to the Character of the Month club.

Want to submit your own characters for my stories? Consider supporting me on Ko-Fi with a recurring donation https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

[redvioletarts]

[Image ID: A photo of an 11oz black coffee mug with a custom design in white lineart and hand-lettered text. It says "Dear FBI" in large print over art of an Internet search bar with suggested previous searches below. The text in the search bar says "I'm A Writer I Swear" in all caps, and the previous searches read "detect gps tracker on car," "arsenic lethal dose," and "black market prices for..." with the rest of the text cut off. End ID.]

Lines printed up great on this one! The text came out nice and clear.

Writing research got you looking sketchy lately? Throw the Feds off your trail by also buying this. Guaranteed to not get you investigated for your weird search history. Probably. ...Well, it won't hurt.

(Maybe you should get a VPN in any case.)

The design prints up on both sides, to be fair to the lefties for once. All my mugs do.

Dear FBI, I'm A Writer I Swear <- get yours!

[pinkcreek]

‘They Said That She Had Been Killed By Swans,’ a short story by me is now live on my substack.

I remember my late grandmother telling me when I was a kid that I should be wary around the swans in the local waters because they were strong enough to drown a child my age. I have no idea if that is true but it has always stuck with me and I think about it every time I see a swan.

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Spicy Detective Stories - Cover art by H. J. Ward (1934-1942)

[lucky-clover-gazette]

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 7

edit: there is much better analysis in this follow-up post, although it does build on the stuff i wrote here

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

There were very few problems, the public killings having been good for the soldiers’ morale.

so where are the people like me in this world who would like pass out witnessing that. just too desensitized to care?

The Veretian herald was named Hendric and he had very strong arms, because banners were heavy.

Damen and Laurent were to ride alongside one another. Neither one of them had the better horse.

THEIR HORSES!! BACK TOGETHER DESPITE ALL ODDS!! because they’re definitely the same ones that fell in love during prince's gambit shut up

Damen was taller, but nothing could be done about that, Hendric had said with an impenetrable expression. Hendric, Damen was learning, had something in common with Laurent, in that it was never a simple matter to tell when he was joking.

give laurent a comedically large hammer and he’ll find a way

‘I hope the injured boy was returned to you safely.’ ‘Thank you, he returned with Paschal,’ said Laurent. For a salve? Damen opened his mouth to say, and didn’t.

throwback <3 but kings can’t have inside jokes :(

In the next moment, the horns rang out, triumphant and lonely at the same time, the pure sound absorbed by the sky and the wide open landscape around them.

“triumphant and lonely” nice detail

He remembered exactly how it had looked, and that was why he didn’t recognise it at first: the forest of broken spears was gone, and there were no gouged ruts in the earth, no men face down in the churned mud. Marlas was now a tumble of grass and wildflowers in the blowy, sweet summer weather, shifting back and forth in the gentle air. Here and there an insect droned, a drowsy sound. A dragonfly dipped and darted.

i like this :) we don’t get a lot of love for nature in this series, so i’ll take what i get. especially nice when nature represents healing and the passage of time.

Lining the hall were two dozen slaves.

oh this is going to be a headache. but it’s a headache worth having, because i’ve approached these annotations so far with integrity and fairness, and i refuse to treat this subject any differently. i don’t want to just ignore the things that are more difficult or less fun to unpack in order to get to the fun shipping stuff, i want to analyze them to the best of my ability and feel as comfortable as i possibly can moving forward.

so let’s set up some context:

1) damen has come a long way from his stance on slavery in book 1. he is actively refusing to partake in this expected custom, and finds the institution disturbing and triggering. he has developed a new appreciation for sex with truly consenting (not trained) partners, aka laurent, and can’t really go back. still, his reasons for refraining here are almost entirely based on his evolving sense of morality, not really relating to his relationship with laurent at all. for more on that moral evolution, see my analysis in chapter 4. further proof of this Really Mattering to damen is the fact that by not taking slaves, he is losing points with his own people. another great hint of his development as a king, making his own authoritative decisions rather than upholding tradition.

2) laurent does not like slavery. he does not think it is morally correct, and has made many jabs at damen throughout the series for disagreeing. he is disturbed by idea of people who have been groomed into relinquishing their own free will. if put in the situation of damen in book 1, laurent would not have been nearly as compliant or allowing—honestly, he probably would have tried to kill his master, and failing that, kill himself.

HOWEVER. vere does not do slavery. slavery had never been a relevant issue to laurent, at least until he was gifted a slave of his own and was made to deal with them in negotiations with patras. slavery is a thing other countries do, to laurent, and his current objective is make nice with a country that keeps slaves. therefore, he knows that his only real option is to keep the appearance of partaking in the custom, even if damen can get away with refusal. and i think we can safely assume that in laurent’s vere, there will be no slavery, even if he’s taking up the appearance of a slave owner now. additionally, i think we can also assume that there will be reform of the country’s pet system, which is an issue much more relevant to laurent’s lived experience.

if the stuff with laurent and slaves here was simply performative and un-indulgent, i wouldn’t need to be writing anything more here. but it is, as it is, one of the few things in the series that makes me feel very conflicted (see also: the garden scene in book 1). because while it’s true that laurent doesn’t actually use isander as a sex slave, and does have this kind of passive disdain for slavery, he does use isander in another way. he uses isander, a non-consenting brainwashed slave, as a way to make damen, who has never actually been a slave, jealous. this is an abuse of power that directly conflicts with laurent’s stated and assumed values regarding free will and individual personhood. we’ve seen things like this before, in arles, but laurent had known that damen was a prince and not a slave the entire time. but isander is a victim of this system—even if isander himself doesn’t know that, laurent damn well does. and laurent historically is someone who advocates for victims. so the fact that his morals here are being set aside in favor of a petty gesture against damen, is… disappointing. everything i said in chapter 3/4 about laurent’s mean girl era still stands: he knows he’s being shitty, and he’s doing it because he doesn’t want to be vulnerable and insecure. better to be a villain than a victim, etc. but laurent being a villain to damen, who laurent knows is perfectly capable of defending himself, is distinctly different from laurent parading out isander the slave just to hurt damen’s feelings.

it’s wrong for the obvious moral reasons, which laurent perfectly understands in the abstract. but it’s not a hill he’s going to die on here, and that’s not just because of the political advantage. this is 100% about personal shit with damen too. and sorry laurent, but slavery does not stop being wrong when it’s useful in creating drama with your ex. in fact, indulging in it for that reason specifically trivializes all of the legitimate problems with the practice. it makes laurent a hypocrite and it crosses a line, in terms of his mean girl schtick. i just want to make that clear—that there is very much a difference between laurent just being kinda cunty to damen in general, and specifically using a slave as tool in that cuntiness.

laurent is, and always has been, a morally complex and often hypocritical character. he has done things that have made me feel uncomfortable to read, like the way he treats damen in the garden scene. and that’s okay, and it doesn’t make him a bad character, or even a bad person. and to be fair, he isn’t doing any practical harm here—if he hadn’t chosen isander to kinda just vaguely flirt with in public and then leave alone in private, someone else probably would have done far worse. and that is an easy cop-out, and it’s not wrong. but still.

the problem isn’t with laurent's actions here, necessarily, but the principle. which is usually what laurent himself cares about the most, as he often values the ends above the means. politics aside, i think that laurent would readily admit post-mean girl era that the ends of making damen jealous did not, and should not, justify the means of using another human being who does not possess free will. maybe he even does that in the text, eventually, and i’ve forgotten.

(also, let’s not forget that isander may have been trained to not have his own feelings, but definitely still has them, because he’s a human being. and it probably makes him feel pretty bad to be chosen and then ignored by laurent. not that it should, because the entire thing is super fucked up, but it’s what he’s been groomed to believe. like, i did just want to throw that in somewhere, even though it’s obviously predicated on brainwashing and a lack of free will. it’s still what he’s feeling, and his feelings matter. just as much as damen’s or laurent’s.)

basically: laurent is failing to be honorable in his usage of isander, even if he’s not using isander as a sex slave as intended. his abstract values about the wrongness of slavery take a back seat to the political and interpersonal advantage of not only passively partaking in the custom, but actively using it to make damen jealous. even if laurent needs to pretend to take a slave to be politically accepted, he does not need to do All That. and honestly, with laurent’s ability to convince and command a crowd, i think we all know deep down that if he didn’t at least want to do this at least a little bit, just to piss damen off, he would find a way out of it. and that is a reality of laurent’s characterization here that i have to deal with, similar to his actions in the garden scene.

and then there’s the other thing that laurent's "performance" with isander has in common with the garden scene:

it’s hot. it’s wrong, and hypocritical, and could have been done in a way that would better suit my personal tastes, but yes, it’s hot. and on top of that, it’s also VERY funny. laurent’s performance, damen’s reactions, and isander’s obliviousness are all very, very funny. and i do want to be able to enjoy them for the petty gestures they are, and joke about them, without constantly having to throw in a “but also this is bad.” so doing this initial disclaimer feels like a happy medium to me, where i’m not ignoring the complexity of the situation entirely, but i’m also conceding that it’s not necessarily meant to be taken seriously, and it’s ultimately written for the reader to enjoy. like, don’t get me wrong, most of the slavery stuff in this series has NOT been written for the reader’s enjoyment—the values here are very clear, especially in damen’s arc—but there are still some indulgent moments. and it is fiction. and these characters aren’t perfect, nor did they create the culture of the kingdoms that they’re about to rule. and they do ultimately change the things that they, and we the reader, know are wrong.

but just like with the garden scene, i can’t quite get myself to write “so it’s totally fine to just have fun with the whole slavery thing” as a conclusion. and honestly, i feel pretty okay about that hesitancy. when i make jokes about this subject in this specific context (laurent and isander), i don’t want it to be forgotten that the subject itself (slavery) is still entirely serious. so instead, i’ll say:

this is fun because manipulative petty lamen mind games are fun. this is hot because manipulative petty lamen mind games are hot. this is somewhat intended as a backhanded insult and display of moral superiority—laurent showing damen how awful he and his culture appear to non-slave owners—but that moral superiority ultimately falls short due to laurent’s hypocritical use of a slave to make damen jealous. all of those separate pieces of analysis are true to the overall experience of reading and interpreting these scenes. it’s a mixed bag, we know it’s a mixed bag, laurent knows it’s a mixed bag, and damen knows it’s a mixed bag. the only relevant person who doesn’t know it’s a mixed bag is isander, because he’s a slave and isn’t allowed to think for himself, and that fucking sucks.

Isander was olive-skinned and lithe as a fawn, with dark hair and eyes: Akielon colouring. He shared that with Nikandros; with Damen.

yeah i’m sure that’s just a coincidence

Male, either in deference to Veretian customs, or to suit Laurent’s assumed preferences.

akielon slave owners, trying to assess laurent’s preferences:

(can you tell my heart still isn’t fully in the humor here…)

Nikandros would never offer royalty anything less than a slave’s First Night.

god, the first night thing is fucked up. in general, i love the lack of like… uh… traditionally conservative (read: christian) attitudes about sex in capri, so the few similarities especially give me the ick. i haven’t read or annotated the erasmus short story yet, but i know it’s going to piss me off too. basically, the closer we get to the handmaid’s tale, the more i want to read complicit characters dying horrifically on the page. nikandros and the other akielons are skirting by for now with the plausible deniability they have re: fully understanding how slaves are trained, but they’re on thin fucking ice.

also, lighter side question, what’s the recommended reading order for the short stories?

sweet grace of a palace slave

gag

‘I like that one,’ said Laurent.

>:(

‘Slaves are trained in the arts of pleasure, but they do not lie with another until their First Night,’ Kolnas said. ‘Here we use the same strict, classical training that is used in the royal palace. Skills are learned through instruction, and practised with indirect methods. The slave remains wholly untouched, kept pure for the first use of the Exalted.’

imagine if real-life cultural customs were built around grooming a certain group of people to be sexually submissive and modest as a thinly-veiled way to control their sexuality and ensure that they are attached to dominant societal figures from a young age without the education or free will to consider themselves actual human beings, so they can unquestioningly spend their entire lives as sex machines and domestic servants defined entirely by their responsibility to the family, and then they die and their headstone identifies them by their status as a possession of their dominant partner. wouldn’t that be fucked up

‘I never did learn how to command a bed slave,’ said Laurent. ‘Teach me.’

guys i wish i could find this hot or funny but now i’m just mad about disturbing stuff in real life that i can’t analyze out of existence. i’m taking a break and eating a chocolate strawberry greek yogurt popsicle and then i’ll try to refocus on the funny toxic gay people

‘They cannot speak Veretian, Your Highness,’ Kolnas explained. ‘In the Akielon language, using the plain form of address is appropriate. To command any act of service is to honour a slave. The more personal the service, the greater the honour.’ ‘Really? Come here,’ said Laurent.

laurent go sit in the corner.

Laurent extended the tip of his boot. ‘Kiss it,’ he said. His eyes were on Damen.

god this is so good. i hate it so much.

to be fair, there is no way to do this that would be more effective than laurent using a slave. because, y’know, damen was his “slave.” it wouldn’t hit the same with some random non-slave guy. laurent wants to fuck with damen’s head, and part of that is making him miss something he most certainly should not be missing. laurent is also fucking with my head, because this gesture is so conflictingly wrong and compelling, a word which in this case means "something i’m embarrassed/ashamed to say that i find hot."

‘Good boy,’ said Laurent, reaching down to pet Isander’s dark curls, while Isander’s eyes closed and he flushed over.

(easy joke to make, but we’re all probably thinking it) damen:

(also, this being the only “good boy” in the entire series is just diabolical. but i get why it is, because i think it might not be the only one—and if it isn’t the only one, that means the regent says it at some point, and that’s exactly why it’s never used in a lamen sex scene.)

Kolnas preened, pleased that his selection was appreciated. Damen could see that the fort’s household around them was also pleased, having gone to great lengths to make Laurent feel welcome. They had considered with intense thoughtfulness Veretian culture and Veretian practices.

i sense some slight snarkiness here—not even from damen, but from the narrative itself. there’s palpable irony in the “great lengths” and “thoughtfulness” of akielions considering veretian culture while presenting laurent with slaves, all while veretian culture doesn’t have slavery.

It was pointless. There were two dozen slaves here, while the number of times Laurent had had sex in his life could probably be counted on one hand. Laurent was just going to be dragging twenty-four young men back to his rooms to sit around doing nothing. They wouldn’t even be able to unlace Veretian clothing.

according to damen:

this is stupid.

laurent is, in all ways but physical, a loser virgin.

he’s going to set out board games for those sex slaves. he’s going to throw them a pizza party. he’s going to answer emails the entire time.

they don’t even know how to unlace laurent’s clothing like i do.

this is stupid.

‘Can he also serve me in the baths?’ said Laurent.

CUNT.

‘And at the feast for the bannermen this evening when they give their pledge, if that pleases you, Your Highness,’ said Kolnas. ‘It pleases me,’ said Laurent.

damen is about to throw up on the floor

Cloth wound around his waist and over his shoulder, the sort of ceremonial Akielon garb that you could unreel from a person by taking hold of one end and pulling while they rotated.

looney toons-ass imagery

He could feel their discomfort, their need to debase themselves; this sort of proximity to royalty permitted only the extreme submissiveness of slaves.

thank you damen for being the only normal person here. you've come a long way.

“discomfort, their need to debase themselves” is something book 1 damen would have found adorable and charming. he definitely wouldn’t have worded it like this, back then.

“this sort of proximity to royalty permitted only the extreme submissiveness of slaves” building on the damen vs. kingship theme, he thinks he can’t have real love or intimacy or vulnerability if he’s a king. he can’t truly be paired with an equal, because he needs to be exalted.

He had sent away the slaves.

damen you’re the only one i’m not at mad at in this chapter. actually i liked the funny banner guy, we’re chill too. and isander is just trying his best

Laurent, he knew, was rooming in the adjoining suite, separated from him by a single wall. Damen was in the King’s chambers, which any lord who built a fort installed, in the hope the King would stop there. But even the former lord of Marlas’s optimism had not stretched to the idea that the heads of two royal families would visit simultaneously. To preserve their arrangements of scrupulous equality, Laurent was in the Queen’s chambers, beyond that wall.

i’m getting so much whiplash from this chapter like yeah this is funny and cute but also is the slavery stuff just normal to people like i’m aware the series started from a specific subculture and kink and body of literary work, so i guess i’m the weird one and the outsider here for being so distracted??

Isander was probably tending him, gamely doing his best with the laces. He would have to unhook the lacings on the back of the neck of Laurent’s riding leathers before drawing them through their eyelets. Or Laurent had taken Isander into the baths, to be undressed by him there. Isander would be flushed with pride at being chosen for the task. Attend me. Damen felt his hands curl into fists.

i don’t think i need to point out in a note, every single time, that damen being jealous of isander is funny and his possessiveness of laurent is hot. but i will still highlight the passages where it happens.

He turned his mind to political matters.

good call buddy, you and i are going to get through this chapter together

Men and women reclined on couches

(said apprehensively, given the overall themes of this chapter) ...women?

Makedon leaned, selecting a slice of peeled orange. Pallas, the handsome officer-champion, reclined with the easy posture that spoke to his aristocratic blood. Straton had hitched his skirts up and drawn his legs onto the couch, crossing them at the ankles. Everyone whom rank or office entitled to be here was assembled, and with every northerner of standing gathered to give their pledge, the hall was packed full. The Veretians present were mostly vertical, standing awkwardly in small groups, one or two perched gingerly on the edge of a seat.

There was no trumpet flourish or herald’s announcement, as there would have been in Vere.

okay i didn’t realize there was a trumpet flourish in vere. that is very funny in retrospect. a trumpet is not the instrument i’d choose to announce laurent’s arrival. in arles especially, i personally think that a halloween sfx cd would have been much more appropriate

Laurent didn’t rise. He wasn’t required to. He just watched from his reclining couch, as the hall prostrated itself. He had cultivated an elegant sprawl, with his arm draped over his couch back, and his leg drawn up, revealing the arc of an exquisitely clad thigh. His fingers dangled. Silk rucked around his knee.

laurent lean #14. kings leaning.

Isander was prostrated, an inch from Laurent’s casually draped fingertips, his lithe body bare. He wore a brief garment like a Vaskian man’s cloth. His collar fit him like a second skin. Laurent sat relaxed, every line of his body arranged tastefully against the couch. Damen made himself stroll forward through the silence. Their twin couches were next to each other. ‘Brother,’ Laurent said, pleasantly.

no comment

The eyes of everyone in the hall were on him. He felt their gazes, their underfed curiosity. He heard the murmurs—it really is him, Damianos, alive and here—accompanied by the brazen looks, looking at him, looking at the gold cuff on his wrist, looking at Laurent in his Veretian clothes like an exotic ornament—so that is the Veretian Prince. And beneath that the speculation that was never spoken aloud.

at least one akielon politics rpf truther is losing their mind rn. we have gaylor, this world has gaymianos

Laurent was scrupulously correct in the face of it, his behaviour immaculate, even his use of the slave was an act of unimpeachable etiquette. In Akielos it pleased the host for a guest to make use of his hospitality. And it pleased the Akielon people for their royal family to take slaves, a sign of virility and power, and a cause of great pride.

narrows my eyes

Barieus stepped forward. ‘I want assurances that Vere does not hold undue influence over Akielos.’ Undue influence. ‘Speak plainly.’ ‘They say the Prince of Vere is your lover.’

found the gaymianos truther

‘Who we take to our bed is not your concern.’

well i mean if you’re using the royal “we” to represent the kingdom, then yeah… it kinda is?

‘Shall I tell them what really happened between us? They want to know,’ Laurent said. Laurent began to unlace the cuff of his sleeve, drawing the ties through the eyelets, then opening the fabric to expose the fine underside of his wrist—and then the unmistakable gold of the slave cuff.

Laurent leaned his wrist elegantly on the curved arm of the couch, the open sleeve reminiscent of a delicate open shirt collar, its laces trailing. ‘Do I have the question clear?’ said Laurent, speaking in Akielon. ‘You are asking if I lay with the man who killed my own brother?’ Laurent wore the slave cuff with utter disregard. He had no owner, the aristocratic arrogance of his posture said that. Laurent had always possessed an essential quality of the untouchable. He cultivated a faultless grace on the reclining couch, his chiselled profile and marble-chip eyes those of a statue. The idea that he would let anyone fuck him was impossible.

and damen is so into it. love love love the contrast with the description of slaves in this chapter. damen doesn’t want them, he wants laurent. he sees laurent as a complete and compelling person. there is honor in laurent’s performative submission—wearing the cuff—because damen respects laurent’s personhood. but he’s no longer able to see the submission of slaves as honorable, because he knows they’re fucking slaves who have been robbed of their personhood entirely.

Barieus said, ‘A man would have to be ice-cold to sleep with his brother’s killer.’ ‘Then you have your answer,’ said Laurent. There was a silence, in which Laurent’s gaze held that of Barieus. ‘Yes, Exalted.’ Barieus bowed his head, and unconsciously used the Akielon Exalted, rather than the Veretian titles Highness or Majesty.

a vine boom echoed through the court

‘Well, Barieus?’ said Damen. Barieus knelt two steps before the dais. ‘I will pledge. I see that the Prince of Vere stands with you. It’s right that we swear to you here, on the site of your greatest victory.’

“he is simply too cunty for us to deny his authority.”

Slaves brought the food. Squires served Damen, since he had made his preferences clear. It was an awkward arrangement that displeased everyone in the hall.

YES DAMEN!

Isander was utterly in love with his master. He strove continuously to do well, selecting each delicacy for Laurent to sample, bringing him only the best, in small, shallow dishes, refreshing the water bowl for Laurent to clean his fingers. He did it all with perfect form, discreetly attentive, and never drawing attention to himself. His eyelashes drew attention to themselves. Damen made himself look elsewhere.

but that’s not real love, and damen knows it. laurent knows it too. and damen did it way better in nesson-elroy

Laurent said, ‘Play The Fall of Inachtos,’ and a murmur of approval passed over the hall. Kolnas, the Keeper of Slaves, congratulated Laurent on his knowledge of Akielon epics. ‘It’s one of your favourites, isn’t it?’ said Laurent, transferring his gaze to Damen.

diabolical. need this energy for the lamen divorce playlists (they each have their own)

He had always liked the depiction of Akielons cutting down their enemies, as Nisos rode out to kill Inachtos, and take his walled city. He didn’t want to hear it now.

yayyy character development

It was Loyse and not Guion that Jord was approaching. She gave him a cursory look. ‘Yes?’ There was an awkward pause. ‘I just wanted to say . . . that I’m sorry for your loss. Your son was a good fighter.’ ‘Thank you, soldier.’ She gave him the token attention a lady might give to any servant, and turned back to her conversation with her husband.

loyse hiiiiiii loyse (said with appropriate sadness for her current state of grief)

Jord gazed at him for a long moment, then indicated Laurent with his chin. ‘I’m glad you two are friends,’ said Jord.

jord always knows exactly when to show up and make ill-timed commentary on damen and laurent's relationship

‘I thought when he found out about you, he’d swear revenge,’ said Jord. ‘He knew all along,’ said Damen. ‘It’s good that you could trust each other,’ said Jord. And then: ‘I think before you came, he didn’t really trust anyone.’ Damen said, ‘He didn’t.’

also isn’t it like SUPER awkward for jord to be around guion and loyse right now

Isander was bringing Laurent a sprig of grapes in a small dish. Laurent said something approving, and gestured for Isander to join him on the reclining couch. Isander glowed, shyly besotted. As Damen watched, Isander picked a single grape from the sprig, and lifted it to Laurent’s lips. Laurent leaned in. He twined a finger around a curl of Isander’s hair and allowed himself to be fed, grape by grape, a prince with a new favourite.

damen is about to start scratching the walls like a cat confronted with a closed door

He lifted the wine blindly. The cup was empty. Straton wasn’t the only Akielon departing with a slave; men and women throughout the hall were availing themselves. The wine, and the slaves enacting the battle were breaking down inhibitions. Akielon voices grew loud, emboldened by wine.

between the heavy drinking and sex practices, the akielon court actually sounds like my living hell. and we haven’t even gotten to the naked sports chapter yet

Laurent leaned in further to murmur something intimately into Isander’s ear, and then, as the recitation reached its climax, the clash of swords like the hammering in his chest, Damen saw Laurent tap Isander’s shoulder, and rise. I’d wager you never thought a prince could be jealous of a slave. At this moment I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat. Torveld’s words. He said, ‘Excuse me.’

The entire court around him rose as he pushed up from his couch-throne.

“couch-throne”

Trying to follow Laurent out, he got tangled in ceremony, the hall a stifling press of bodies and noise, and, as a blond head disappeared towards the doorway, he was stopped by party after party blocking his path.

okay i’m so curious what he’s meaning to do when he catches up to laurent. yell at him? yell at isander? throw up?

He ought to have brought a slave of his own, then the crowd would have melted away, understanding: the King wished privacy.

i am begging the protagonists of this book to stop using human people as objects. again maybe that’s just a me problem, this isn’t my usual genre and the akielon slavery system clearly doesn’t align with my kink sensibilities, but COME ON

The corridor was empty when he strode out into it. His heart was pounding. He turned the first corner into a section of the passage, half expecting to catch Laurent’s retreating figure. Instead, he saw a stark, empty arch with all its Veretian lattice stripped away. Under the arch was Isander, standing with his fawn eyes, looking confused and abandoned. His confusion was such that for a moment he just stared at Damen with wide eyes before he seemed to understand what was happening, and folded to the floor, forehead to the stone. Damen said, ‘Where is he?’ Isander was well trained, even if nothing was happening as he had expected tonight; and even if, rather mortifyingly, he was being asked to report this fact to his King. ‘His Highness of Vere has gone for a ride.’

well at least if “going on a ride” is laurent code for “feeling morally and emotionally troubled,” that’s… less disappointing, i guess.

also, i do realize that this is the place where laurent’s brother was killed, currently taken over by the nation that orchestrated and benefitted from his death. so there’s probably a twisted vindication in learning exactly how fucked up their culture is (asking about the first night, etc), and getting whatever kind of enjoyment out of the whole situation he can (pissing off damen). but there still had to be a crash, and as soon as laurent was excused from his duties he dipped to deal with it alone.

‘At the stables a handler might know his destination. This slave can inquire.’

i caaaaaan’t stand the way they’re denied use of personal pronouns

Closer; the approach was difficult because it was sharp with memory. Here was the place where their left flank had fallen. Here was the place where he had ordered men to attack the lines that would not fall, the starburst banner that did not falter. Here was the place where he had killed the last of the Prince’s Guard, and come face to face with Auguste. He dismounted from his horse, looping its reins over the cracked stone column of an overgrown pillar. The landscape was old, and the pieces of stone were old; and he remembered this place, remembered the torn soil and the desperation of the fight. Clearing a last jut of stone, he saw the curve of a shoulder in the moonlight, the white of a loose shirt, his outer garments stripped, all wrists and exposed throat. Laurent was sitting on a stone outcrop. His jacket was discarded uncharacteristically. He was sitting on it.

this is a beautifully set scene.

A stone slid under his heel. Laurent turned. For a moment, Laurent looked at him wide-eyed, young, and then the look in his eyes changed, as though the universe had fulfilled an ineluctable promise. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘perfect.’

a moment of surprise and vulnerability, and then practiced cool again. onto Some More Bullshit, i guess

this isn’t the chapter to really tackle this, but i will eventually write a long essay about how laurent goes through his own mini character growth arc, completely off the page, during the lamen divorce era. it’s just that damen has custody of the reader, so we don’t get to see it—only hints, like this moment here. laurent must have had a lot on his mind, too, ever since their last heated conversation. i have some ideas about what that “a lot” might be, but again, i don’t think i’ve gotten quite enough from laurent yet to really start forming a conclusion.

Damen said, ‘I thought you might want—’ ‘Want?’ ‘A friend,’ said Damen. He used Jord’s word. His chest felt tight. ‘If you’d prefer me to leave, I will.’ ‘Why cavil?’ said Laurent. ‘Let’s fuck.’

ON YOUR BROTHER’S FIGURATIVE GRAVE WITH HIS MURDERER????

‘That isn’t what I meant.’ ‘It might not be what you meant, but it’s what you want.’ Laurent said, ‘You want to fuck me.’ Anyone else would have been drunk. Laurent was dangerously sober.

yeah, no, he’s definitely being going through Some Shit on his own. lots of self-loathing, especially due to the fact that he can’t hate damen as much as he knows he should. yearning, more self-loathing because of that yearning. companionship withdrawals, a return to isolation. a revived sense of grief for his brother, and nicaise, and damen (not damianos) and even his relationship with his uncle, who he hadn’t thought would be capable of trying to kill him. hating himself and blaming himself and regretting things he’s done to push people away. just an all-around bad time, but a necessary time of reflection that he needs to experience on his own. damen can’t just swoop in and fix laurent, laurent has to decide that he’s worth saving first. he’s not there yet, clearly, assuming that damen only wants him as a sexual object. whiiiiich was probably why he went so hard on the eroticism with isander easlier, it was an easy victory to get damen hot and bothered. a game he could win, among the many other games he knows he’s losing—especially the ones against himself.

i’ll put together something more coherent before the divorce era ends. tbh, i kinda think this scene should have been a separate chapter, because there is some pretty massive whiplash here. although maybe not, maybe the buildup of emotional and sexual tension was the point. yeah, it was. the slavery stuff just made it more frustrating to read. never mind.

‘You’ve been thinking about it since Ravenel. Since Nesson.’ He knew this mood. He should have expected it. He made himself say the words. ‘I came because I thought you might want to talk.’ ‘Not particularly.’

it almost sounds like laurent played himself, for the millionth time, by getting himself worked up with isander when he just really wanted damen

He said, ‘About your brother.’ ‘I never fucked my brother,’ said Laurent, with a strange edge to the words. ‘That is incest.’ They were standing in the place where his brother had died. With a disorientating sensation Damen realised they weren’t going to talk about that. They were going to talk about this.

"yes, honey..."

‘You’re right,’ said Damen. ‘I’ve been thinking about it since Ravenel. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.’ ‘Why?’ said Laurent. ‘Was I that good?’ ‘No. You fucked like a virgin,’ said Damen,

deserved

‘half the time. The rest of the time—’ ‘Like I knew what to do?’ ‘Like you knew what you were used to.’ He saw the words impact. Laurent swayed, like he’d been dealt a blow. Laurent said, ‘I’m not certain I can take your particular brand of honesty just at the moment.’

oh well this is particularly horrifying with [redacted] context. also i think the quote “i’m not certain i can take your particular brand of honesty just at the moment” says A LOT about how laurent has always viewed damen, for better or for worse. laurent can count on damen to tell him what he needs to hear, not what he wants to hear. so it makes sense that he’s been avoiding damen lately, because laurent is going through his own crisis of personal reflection

Damen said, ‘I don’t prefer sophistication in bed, if you were wondering.’ ‘That’s right,’ said Laurent. ‘You like it simple.’ All the breath left his throat. He stood, stripped, unready for it. Will you use even that against me? he wanted to say, and didn’t. Laurent’s breathing was shallow too, holding his ground.

is “that” just laurent making fun of the way damen is earnest in bed? seems like an overreaction from damen if that's the case, so it’s probably something else i’m missing. maybe laurent is accusing damen of keeping the secret of his identity, even when they fucked, to make things simpler between them? that would support my previous theory that laurent is convinced that damen wouldn’t want him how he really is, as damen really is, with all the complications between them. or it’s a dig about auguste somehow, and i just can’t figure out how it connects.

‘He died well,’ Damen made himself say. ‘He fought better than any man I’ve known. It was a fair fight, and he felt no pain. The end was quick.’

like i said—what laurent needs to hear, not what he wants to hear. even if damen thinks that it’s going to make laurent hate him more, he still has the integrity to say it.

‘You sent your men out to look for me too?’ said Laurent, his mouth twisting. ‘No,’ said Damen, and pushed Laurent hard out of sight, into the shelter of one of the huge, crumbling blocks of stone. In the next second, the troop was on them, at least two hundred men, so that the air was thick with the passage of horses. Damen pressed Laurent firmly into the rock, and held him in place with his body. The riders didn’t slow, even on this uncertain ground in the dark, and any man in their path would be trampled, tumbled, kicked from hoof to hoof. Discovery was a real threat, the rock cool under his palms, the dark shuddering with the pounding of hooves and heavy lethal horseflesh. He could feel Laurent against him, the barely contained tension, adrenalin mixed with his dislike of the proximity, the urge in him to prise himself out and away, stifled by necessity.

throwback <3 i think this is very intentionally placed in this conversation, as a reminder that they are the same people they were in prince’s gambit

‘I know you’re not cold,’ said Damen. ‘You weren’t cold when you ordered me tied to the post. You weren’t cold when you pushed me down on your bed.’

more true things laurent does not want to hear right now! also i like the use of warmth, as the opposite of cold, to signify both vengeful rage and romantic/sexual passion. two sides of the same coin

‘A fair fight?’ said Laurent, turning back to him. ‘No fight’s ever fair. Someone’s always stronger.’

rewinding to their previous argument. aren’t they both tired? i’m tired.

[tryingtimi]

SASIN INTRODUCTION.

GENRE: Urban Fantasy, Crime, Pinch of Romance. AUDIENCE: Adult. CONENT: Tradition vs Change, Mild Sapphic, Brat Siblings, Mother & Daughter Differences, Family Drama, Animal Gods, Crime Syndicates, Band of Misfits, Warrior Women, Fantastical Jazz Age, Kind of a Heist, Lots of Martial Arts. STATUS: Discovery Drafting -> 50k out of 90k SETTING: Tawon, a country in the same world as Lonel just thirty years earlier. Inspired by mostly Korea, and the jazz age. MATERPOSTS: SNIPPET | CHARACTER

BLURB:

Liahn had been marked as the shamespot of her family since she was ten. Within Tawon's fourth ruling clan, possessing the Blessing of their Guardian is an inescapable requirement for stepping up as the next Prime. It is also an unspoken expectation and duty simply because one was born to be the daughter of the current leader. Liahn had failed in both instances, if involuntarily. Despite the circumstances, she is determined to prove her capabality anyway, struggling to keep her heart and her pride intact during her journey. However, a childhood friend turned love interest, Yune, is there to help her in that every step of the way. But when Yune disappears, and the silent separation between the clans seem to be threatened, Liahn snaps. Years long oppressed wrath makes her take steps she wasn't brave to think before. With the help of her loyal, but unpredicteble brother they find support in unexpected corners of Tawon, and uncover secrets about the clans that change the course of their lives forever.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I can keep a taglist about this if anyone will be interested. This post will be also updated as I go, because I've got out of Tumblr practice so have no idea what to include here more. Hopefully, I'm going to finish this draft this year (2024) and then somewhere in the future editing it. I aimed low with the WC because I thought I was writing short stuff mostly, then this story came and I kind of lost control. The story is not even halfway through, but the word count is already almost there. Anyway. Thanks for being here, and being interested! Will try my best to keep y'all updated! <3 updated (2024.08.06): Added a taglist because some lovely people showed interest. Plus edited the rest for the style of the other wip intros I made in the past because I really liked that format, hehe.

WIP TAGS wip tag | 40k in 42 days

TAG LIST (+/-): @the-void-writes, @wildswrites, @aalinaaaaaa, @bloodlessheirbyjacques

[theonekierce]

I at once spurred alongside Raffles, as he rode, bronzed and bearded, with warworn wideawake over eyes grown keen as a hawk’s, and a cutty-pipe sticking straight out from his front teeth. I can see him now, so gaunt and grim and debonair, yet already with much of the nonsense gone out of him, though I thought he only smiled on my misgivings. -The Knees of the Gods

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Code Blue Ch. 58- Absolution

Summary: Jo comes face to face with the past. A suspicion is confirmed. An invitation is given. Jo and Craig indulge, maybe a little too much. Lee overhears something that gives him a wake up call. He confronts one of his troubles. Lee, Jo and Craig all get the shock of their lives. Jo doesn't think twice to sacrifice but in the end, it didn't even matter.....

*Chapter Warnings* language, angst, self pleasure, alcohol use, smoking, gun use

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist:

March 23, 2022

Boston

Rain drizzled down your fogged up windshield as you silently sat in a distant daze, listening to the familiar trickling sound that brought back the memory of your first kiss with Lee in his car. A kiss so soft and so sweet, you could still feel his tender lips and taste the smooth traces of Crown Royal he had consumed that night. Whiskey. That damn whiskey that, according to Gerry's relayed rumors, caused Lee to have possibly hooked up with Angel in his drunken, vulnerable stupor. Letting your head fall back against the car seat, you sighed and cried along with the sobbing sky as you closed your eyes. Your whimpering voice then softly sang a few lines from the famous and catchy Johnny Cash song, only your version became a broken-hearted ballad.

"The taste of love is sweet when hearts like ours meet. I fell for you like a child, oh but the fire went wild. I fell into the burning ring of fire. I went down, down, down and the flames went higher and it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire. The ring of fire..."

Pulling yourself together, you cleaned up your raccoon eyes then focused on what you were about to do. Face Peter. Before you had went to see Gerry, you did something that you would probably pay the consequences for later, which was calling Luke to see if he could pull some strings for you regarding the visit. In doing so, you had to swallow your pride over what happened between the two of you and also swallow your anger over his involvement in what happened to Lee's parents, for you would save that mess for another time. Luke was your only option because you knew you could have never asked Gerry, for he would have turned you down flat while scolding you with his Scottish slang about how crazy you were. Luke also risked facing Gerry's wrath as well for helping you, which that took some coaxing in getting the newly sworn in officer onboard with your unexpected request. Honestly, you figured Luke would laugh and hang up on you after your last encounter with him. Hell, you thought he wouldn't even answer your call at all but he did...and on the first ring. You explained to him that you needed to see Peter and that it had to be today before you lost the nerve to go, but that wasn't all. You wanted to be able to see Peter privately, face to face, with no window of separation so you could show your abuser that you did not fear him, although...you did fear the true identity of Peter, Heinrich, very much, for that side of him was a spitting image of his terrorist father Cesar. Your hopes were that it would make you stronger. Of course, Luke was against the idea at first and it wasn't because it could put his job in jeopardy and he didn't call you crazy either...it was because he was concerned for you after you broke down and confided in him about what Peter did to you. It was then that he understood your need to face him with little restriction, for Luke too, felt that way about his own abuser...his apathetic father.

Pulling out your phone, you opened a previously received text from Luke that simply stated "The deed is done. Enter at your own risk. Please be careful."

While staring at it, just as you had when you arrived in the prison's parking lot, the feeling of falling punched you in the gut harder than it had the first time. It was real now. All you had to do was make your cold feet warm up and move.

"I.D. please and then sign in on the visitor's log while I confirm this pre-arranged visit." the corrections officer responded after you explained the situation. "You can then put your personal belongings in the lockers and when the inmate is brought in, you must walk through and pass the body scan before entering the room. You will then have 30 minutes and a guard will remain present due to the prisoner's high risk status. A 6 foot distance is required and touching is not permitted."

Nodding, you bit your bottom lip as it quivered, then proceeded to hand him your license and sign in. As your hand trembled something fierce, you scribbled out your name, the time of 7:03 PM and the prisoner's name you requested to visit. Heinrich Faison, Peter's legal name.

Once you finished, you laid the pen down and that's when you noticed Peter's true name two entries up from your spot. Sliding your finger across the line to the visitor's name, a soft gasp forced your lips to part when you saw the name Sam Colin written in a very similar handwriting to Lee's, only the S was more serpentine with the other letters angling more to the left, almost as if the person were left handed. Not only that, but sham Sam had just been there shortly before you with a sign in time of 5:55 PM. Knowing only the little bit you knew of Lee's once dormant past, you were still 100% certain he remained highly proficient in his hidden skills and that he would still have contacts to aid him because Luke surely was and did.

Staring at the alias until the letters blurred, you instinctively picked the chained pen back up and discreetly brought it to your nose, searching for a trace of Lee's ever so potent Drakkar cologne that would consume the air in any room he was or had very recently been in. Nothing. Not a single hint of it could be detected. Would there be though? After all, if it was Lee who had been there, he clearly didn't want to be identified which is why you also knew you couldn't ask the currently distracted officer who was in the process of verifying your credentials.

Laying the pen back down, your eyes were then pulled to another name. Brad Wu, a young Chinese ex-physician currently serving a lengthy sentence for his dealings in the organized crime world as he was the nephew of Selena Wu, a ruthless Queenpin of one of the five families, the Triad. You and Jason knew him well because he was also Britt's best guy friend who, like Craig because of his father Cyrus, was forced into the dark underworld because of his blood relation to the mobstress. It wasn't Selena though who had visited Brad 3 hours prior. It was a man's name that, for some reason, sounded all too familiar. John Winchester.

Startled back to reality by the guard's voice, you were told your visit was approved and to proceed through the metal detector. Once through, passing with flying colors, your anxiety was now fueling your racing heartbeat as you were led to the private room where the rotten apple that didn't fall far from the terrorist tree would be waiting. The only difference between Peter and his father was Cesar Faison was sadistic psychopath where is Peter was a masochistic sociopath.

You now faced the ghost of the past. as he sat bound to a chair. Peter clearly was not told who his visitor was because his dark eyes lit right up with both surprise and delight when you walked in. Nothing had changed. He was still as delusional about you as ever. Just the sight of his devilish smile and the sound of his wispy voice was like the sensation of a thousand pins piercing every inch of your body. "Josephine? You came to see me. I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away."

"You're as beautiful as ever." he continued as you stood frozen beside the guard. "I love how your hair falls over the one side of your shoulder. It's so much longer now. Please...come sit with me. We only have 30 minutes. I have so much to say to you."

"I'll stand. The further away from you, the better and all you will get is 5 minutes, maybe 10, which is way too generous on my part after all that you've done to me. You have no idea how nauseated I feel right now just to look at you."

Anguish crippled his smile. "Josephine...you...you don't mean that. I..I love you. I'll be free of this place someday and I promise you, I will make everything up to..."

"SHUT UP!" you snapped as you bravely walked up to the table. "WHAT is WRONG with you??? You will never be free!! You drugged me, kidnapped me and locked me in a morgue drawer! I almost died!! THEN you were going to take me to another country against my will and make me a prisoner for the rest of my life. THAT is not love you deranged lunatic! Do you have any idea what your actions have done to me??? I still have nightmares. I am terrified of storms and the dark and I can't even get in something as simple as a fucking elevator without having an anxiety attack! And let us not forget, you shot me! I can't have children because of you!!!"

Peter had then became agitated, desperately struggling against the restraints to stand as he pleaded with you. "That was an accident! You know that! I was trying to save you from my father. He was going to shoot you Josephine! Just like he would have done that night if he would have found you with me. That's why I had to hide you in the drawer!"

"You never came back!! I ran out of air!!!"

"That's because of that boyfriend cop of yours! He screwed everything up. I had no choice to leave. I knew he would find you and that you would be alright and he did and you were!!"

"You are sick Heinrich. Just like your father!"

"Don't say that to me!! I am not him! I tried to shoot him when he was holding that gun on you at the hospital!! I never meant for the bullet to hit you!! You know that!!"

"Well it did! NONE of that would have ever happened if you had chose to be a good person and cut him out of your life like your sister did! Britt despises you too you know. You had us both fooled at one time and I despise you as well. How stupid was I to ever believe there was good in you??"

"The feeling has become mutual for my dear sis for sleeping with the enemy. You say you despise me too, yet here you are. Why not just stay away and ignore me like you have been??"

"I came here to face you and tell you to leave me alone! Stop trying to contact me. I never want to see or hear from you again Peter and I need you to HEAR ME for once. Let ...me...go. You will never have me. I feel nothing for you but disgust."

"All so you can be with that upstanding doctor?? You don't even know who he is!! I have been trying to tell you. I wrote you letters. It's his own fault his parent's were targeted and he killed my brother for it! And just look at my hand! He did this only hours ago and..."

You glanced at his bandaged hand, feeling no sympathy. "I know exactly who Lee is. He told me all about his past. Whatever happened to your hand and your brother, you both deserved it. You deserve to be exactly where you are. Were you and Cesar not in Salem that night to go after my brother??? Lee too?? It is YOU that I did not know."

Peter's eyes darkened as he leaned forward. "WE were at the hospital to find Britt and to seek refuge because once again, that meddling cop of yours had tracked us down and from what I understand, YOU followed him, so who's fault is it really that you got shot??"

"Well well well. It was only a matter of time before the sociopath surfaced. Time's up. I am so done here. That hand of yours looks pretty painful. I can only imagine what else could happen if you keep stalking me. If there's one thing I learned from my brother... No one's safe in prison."

Turning to leave, Peter's words sent your heart into your throat, but you didn't dare stop to look at him, for it would only verify to him that he was right.

"Oh Josephine...do say hello to Jason for me."

You barely made it to your car as your anxiety kicked in full force. Frantically tugging your sleeve up to reveal a rubber band around your wrist, you began to harshly snap it against your skin. It was a new trick that Craig had told you to try because he said it had helped his mother. Apparently the pain would distract her from her despair and offered much quicker relief than trying to focus on the senses and strangely....it was working to calm you too.

Now you knew that Jason and Britt were right to leave when they suspected Cyrus was onto them. Not only had Peter verified that Lee had been there but somehow...he knew Jason was alive. Lee never would have told him. That you would bet your life on, so your other bet was Cyrus had told Peter while he was in prison since they both shared a mutual hatred of your bother and that meant Peter had known for awhile.

You quickly called the last number Jason had texted you from, but as usual, it had been disconnected. He went through burner phones like underwear, but why hadn't he reached out to you with another? Could that be why you hadn't heard from Jason at all?? Had something happened to him??? And where was Britt? Her phone was completely off. Your only option now was to go to Jason's bff... Craig.

Salem

Craig had spent his afternoon chasing down another lead on his daughter, but like the other times, it led to a dead end. As he returned home, tortured, thirsty and in need of a friend, you to be specific, he stopped at your door to leave a sticky note upon it since he knew you were not there.

"Jo, Really need to see you. Wine? My place? Please stop by when you get home. -C"

Entering his apartment, he sulked and paced and drank the red liquid that would only depress him more. He then turned on the music, ear thumping loud just like he liked it. Craig enjoyed all kinds of music, but his usual go to was the softer side of rock, 70's mostly with David Bowie being the prominent preference, but this time he just hit shuffle in his uncaring state. Of course, the selection that played only added to his misery. It wasn't about Blaise though. It was about you, for the lyrics smacked him in the face just as hard as you had once before.

It used to be when I'd see a girl that I liked, I'd get out my book and write down her name. But when the grass got a little greener on the other side, I'd just tear out that page but then I fooled around and fell in love. I fooled around and fell in love. I fooled around and fell in love!! I fooled around and fell in love since I met you baby. Free, on my own, that's the way I used to be but since I met you baby, love's got a hold on me. It's got a hold on me now. I can't let go of you baby. I can't stop loving you now.

For a good half hour, Craig chose to torture himself and placed the song on repeat as he rapidly medicated himself. Soon, he dozed off in the chair only to have an arousing dream of you and the throbbing between his legs instantly awoke him.

On the borderline of both inebriation and needing a release, he then chose to take a cold shower to cure the agonizing ache but all the lathering of soap over his brawny body by his own hands only worsened the massive stiffness below him.

"Damn it!" Craig groaned as he placed one hand on the the wall for support and firmly grasped his cock with other, beginning to slowly stroke the ticking time bomb.

Closing his eyes as the sandalwood scented shampoo rinsed from his hair, creating soapy waterfalls that gushed over his sculpted shoulders, his mind tuned out the muffled music and went to the time you had tried to help him off the floor, but slipped in the paint and fell on top of him. Your mouths had been so close that he could still smell your cherry chap stick and he could still feel the petite curvy form of your body as both of your hearts pounded against each other. With his heart now pounding once again, the slow squeezing pace of his slippery strokes had become deeply intense. From base to tip, he quickly brought himself to climax, loudly panting, moaning and groaning through every jerking pulse as he watched his pearly essence shoot against the wall.

After another rinse over, he reached to turn the water off and that's when he heard your shouting voice through the music.

"Craig??? I saw your note! Your door was open! Are you ok??"

His eyes wide, he opened the shower door and peeked out. "Jo?? Yeah, yeah..I..I'm fine... H..hold on. I'll...I'll be right out."

Half ass drying his body and hair with a towel, he stopped to stare in the mirror, lightly gulping as he wondered if you had heard his pleasureful cries.

"Fuck" he whispered as he frantically struggled to slip on a satin robe and pants set over his damp body, then pulled himself together and walked out with an out of thin air and very cheesy explanation if you were to ask about it. In his line of work, he had become accustomed to lying and was damn good at it...but he couldn't do it so easily with you. It was still eating at his very soul that he knew Lee and Ethan were still legally hitched. Did it even really matter if Lee hadn't put a ring on your finger? Craig figured he would just cross that bridge when or if he got to it.

It took a moment for you to find your words when Craig appeared before you, wearing a black satin robe, wide open in the front revealing his perfectly smooth defined pecks and abs that shimmered in the soft lighting from the moisture.

Grinning at your reaction, Craig confidently swayed over to shut the music off. "Something...wrong?"

Your words finally came out in a stutter. "N..n..no...I...well. I've clearly interrupted your shower...I..I should p..probably g..go."

"Come on now Jo. Nothing to get all frazzled about. I've seen yours and now you've seen mine."

Your eyes popped. "Www..what??"

Craig chuckled and changed his course to the wine, pouring 2 glasses. "Your nighty, remember? And now you've seen me in my night attire."

"O..ohhhh." you laughed in relief. " that... well...I'm not frazzled."

Yes you were. Extremely. Did you really think a man of Craig's stature and physique would wear anything else but satin to relax in?? Afterall, the mob man wore enough silver to ward off witches and werewolves and bathed in a woodsy scented cologne that transported you deep into a fairytale forest.

"I just didn't expect to...to um...catch you in the shower...are...are you ok? I...I heard...."

"Oh that!" he swiftly expressed and handed you the glass. "Yeah, damn funny bone. Hit it on the shower handle. Not so funny though. Hurt like a bitch."

"Yeah, agreed." you smiled. "Sorry for just walking in. As usual, your music was too loud for you to hear me knock and I just figured with the invite from your note that I..."

His heavenly smile and baby blues softened, almost in a sad way. "Jo..it's completely fine. I'm really glad you're here."

"Ok, well. I know you said you're ok physically, but...are you ok...otherwise? Your note said you needed to see me and you seem...I don't know. You were playing a love song on repeat. What's wrong Craig?"

Hating to do it, he harmlessly fibbed again to keep his undying love for you a secret. "Oh that little tidbit. Damn player gets stuck sometimes. Happened when I was in the shower. Anyways, I don't want to bore you with my problems. What about you love? How was your day after the night you had? You feeling better?"

"Well, let's see. After you left earlier this afternoon, I found out I was single via Facebook which I should have already figured that after Lee's cold words to me yesterday AND then I was informed that he had another round of drunken sex with someone he claims to loathe...but I don't want to talk about that. I just can't process it right now of how little I really meant to him."

Both of his naturally arched brows arched even more as both shock and disgust raged through him, but he hid it well. Another talent he had mastered for necessary reasons. "Jo I...sweetheart, I am so sorry. Forgive me for even asking this, but...do you know who that someone was?"

It was like you could read his mind in that moment. "Oh god no. Craig, it wasn't Ethan. You know I would tell you if it were because of the situation with Blaise and how she and Ethan are both missing. It was that skank neighbor of his."

Craig's anger could no longer be concealed as a sarcastic rampage rolled out of him. "Ahh, the red porch light bitch who was carelessly watching my daughter when she disappeared. Lee knows what it's like to lose a kid but I guess his other brain didn't give two shits when it came to fucking the person partially responsible for my missing child. It might as well HAD been Ethan that he screwed or hell, even Lizzy when she was alive!!! No difference!"

Your response was soft and sympathetic. "I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I told you I didn't want to talk about it."

Feeling remorse, he downed a newly poured glass of the red liquid and sighed. "No Jo...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blown up at you. I just can't fathom any of it. What a fool. Being lucky enough to have the love of a woman like you and then cheating on you, especially with lowlife trash like that tramp. I mean, just look at you. You're a fucking goddess in my eyes. A queen if I may. If you only knew...."

Realizing his pathetic and embarrassing words of impairment followed by an almost admission of his feelings, Craig clammed right up and went to pour another drink, feeling your eyes upon him.

"If..if I...only knew...what?" you squeaked.

He released a soft chuckle as he brought the bottle to refill your glass. "Aaaaaand, I should really shut up now before this truth serum gets me into more trouble. Sooo, how about we talk about something pleasant?"

Feeling flattered, yet awkward over his descriptively sweet admiration of you, you quickly obliged to his request. "Craig...I...I went to see Peter today."

He slightly choked on his wine, knowing he had just ordered "Negan" to take the trash out. "You..you did?? Alright. Well...I think I can understand why you went after all that you told me about him earlier today, so I'll just ask you then, are you ok? Did it help?"

"It didn't seem to at first, but now, I feel different. Absolved maybe, of many things. Anyways, regardless of your note, I was on my way to see you. Have you heard from Jason at all??"

The fear in your voice stiffened his stance right up. "I haven't. What's going on Jo?"

"Peter...he made it very clear that he knows Jason is alive and I called the last number he texted me from and it's out of service and before Jason left with Britt, he told me he believed that your dad knew too which is why they left and..."

There was no hesitation to Craig's commanding interruption. "Eh eh eh, don't call him that. Cyrus or soulless blood sucking vampire will do just fine. Let me make a quick call."

Craig bee-lined to a drawer, pulled out a phone that you knew from sight was not the one he always used and pushed one button...and from what he said to the other person, you knew it was Sonny Corinthos, the Don of the Northern Seafront... Craig's, Jason's and Jeffery's boss who all 3 were fiercely loyal too.

"It's me. Our suspicions were correct. Cyrus is aware as is Peter August....Yes, the source is credible."

Craig then walked into the back room and all you hear was his muffled voice as he continued the conversation. While he did that, you sat and nervously gulped down 2 glasses of wine and even lit up one of Craig's cigarettes, for your emotions were all over the place with all that had happened in the course of 24 hours.

About 15 minutes had went by and then you heard Craig's voice before he reappeared. "Affirmative."

"Well?" you anxiously asked as Craig walked in, sniffing the air with furrowed brows.

"Were you...smoking?"

"Sorry. Nerves. I just had one."

"It's fine love. Have all you want. Anyways..."

Craig paused and lit up his own smoke. You could tell he was reluctant to tell you what Sonny had said. "I am to let you know not to worry and that it's not a situation you should be involved in. Sonny will handle it....his words. Sorry. I tried Jo."

Fuming, you sprung to your feet. "That condescending son of a bitch! Not to worry or be involved?? He's my brother and he could be in trouble or..or.."

Your anger then turned in to sobs. "Or really dead this time."

Craig rushed right to you and placed his hands tenderly upon your cheeks. "Hey, don't think that way ok sweetheart? You know how resourceful Jason is. This isn't his first rodeo. What I think is that he is protecting the woman he loves and they are probably shacked up in one of Sonny's many safe houses until he feels it's time to resurface and he's probably protecting you too by not contacting you."

"But...but..." you sniffled. "He's not immortal Craig. If it weren't for you saving him before, he would have died then. He has no one to help him now."

"Jo, remember who he is. He has many connections and he's being cautious by not reaching out to the obvious ones. As much as you despise Sonny, he loves Jason and will use all of his own resources to find him."

You pushed him away. "Right, like all the resources you have and cannot even find your own daughter!"

You unintentionally had gutted him. The way he looked at you and then let his eyes fall away as he remained speechless made you want to wrap that rubber band around your head and snap it against your facetiously impulsive mouth.

You desperately but gently laid your hand upon his stubbly cheek and coaxed him to look at you. "Jesus, oh my god Craig. I did NOT mean that, I swear! I am SO sorry! I don't know what's wrong with me anymore. Things just fall out of my mouth when I'm upset and..."

He took your hand and slowly pulled it down to meet his other hand to hold yours inside the two as he softly smiled. "I know you didn't or you wouldn't be so sincerely apologetic.. but it's still the truth all the same. I...had a lead today about Blaise and...it fizzled as usual."

Briefly closing your eyes, you sighed and squeezed his hands. "So that's why you wanted to see me. You needed a friend and I just made you feel a thousand times worse. I'm such an asshole."

"Jo, we all say things we don't mean. You and I should both know that by now and you're not an asshole." he chuckled. "You're just beyond stressed. I get that."

Still holding his hand, you led him to the small table bar. "Stressed and losing my buzz. Come sit with me and talk to me while we get shitfaced, yes? I'm so over this day."

"Shitfaced huh? You don't have to ask me twice for that love."

It was now 10 p.m. Two hours had gone by while you and Craig emptied three bottles of wine as he reminisced about Blaise and happily shared many good memories and baby photos with you. It made him glow to say her name and speak about her and that made you so happy. His eyes twinkled like stars the entire time. His smile stretched from ear to ear and his laughs were hearty and plentiful. For that short time of normalcy, reality didn't exist and it was quite alleviating, especially to see Craig just be himself...in the song sense, a simple kind of man, something you could love and understand.

A 4th bottle had gone and 11 p.m. soon came. Craig was feeling good. Way too damn good as he had drank the majority of the wine. Enough so that his speech was slurring and he was rather clumsy, falling off the bar stool in the middle of a laughing fit which had you laughing so hard you snorted, for you too, were feeling way too damn good.

Drunkenly diving forward from your stool, you plummeted to your knees beside him to try and help him up. "Alright. Someone's clearly had way too much wicked wine besides me. Let's get you up Mr. Parker."

"Wait, wait, wait. Did you just... snort???" he asked in all seriousness as you uselessly tugged at his hand.

"Did I?" you answered with a a question as you giggled and accidentally snorted again.

Laying dead weight on his back, Craig bellowed in laughter and what a glorious sight that was, for he had long since taken the robe off and simply bore the black satin pants. "Well, unless one of those little piggies got in here that John is after, I do believe it was you sweet..." he hiccupped, "tart...I mean sweetheart."

You tilted your head. "John? You mean, Jeffrey right?"

"Seriously." you chuckled and took his hand again. "Let me get you into bed."

You stupidly set yourself up for what happened next as he pulled you on top of him and slyly grinned like a fox while his buff arms snuggly locked around your back. "Well now, that sounds like a plan."

The heat of his sweet breath and bare upper body took your breath away as the tips of your noses united. Once you were able to sever the hypnotic gaze he held you in, you tried to wriggle free as you giggled. "You know that's not what I meant. Now come on. Let me go."

The foxy grin momentarily returned, then it faded as he gazed at you. "Not until you tell me why you're the most gorgeous creature I have ever seen?"

You frowned and broke eye contact. "I can't because it's not true."

His brows pinched together. "She don't know she's beautiful? Is that what you're trying to say? Don't be coy now. You've got a convoy of men at your beck and call. I should know because I'm one of them."

Your eyes locked back onto his. "Yeah well, then why am I not good enough?"

"What?? What do you mean love? Are you referring to that demon of a nurse named Angel? She's a warthog with lipstick who's ironically been pumped more times than a farmer's well."

You hysterically guffawed and snorted into Craig's neck who released a gleeful chortle. "You know I'm right Jo. Now look at me."

You raised your head, still carrying a lingering smile as he continued. "You...are....fucking....phenomenal. Even your nose is beautiful." He then tapped the tip of your nose. "BOOP! Bee...eee...ayyy...utiful."

Your eyes widened. "Really?? Did you just boop my nose like I'm a baby??"

"Why yes I did and I'll do it again. BOOP!"

"Oh my god." you playfully sniggered. "Alright. GET UP."

"Nooooo." he whined with a grimace.

"Ok, then I'll make you."

You dug your fingertips into his ribcage on each side and aggressively tickled him.

"GAHHH!!!" he shrieked and shoved you off, then staggered to his feet panting. "HOLY HELL NO!"

"HAHA!!! Got you up."

He winked. "Yeah well I can think of easier ways to do that."

"Go. Now. Get in bed before you fall again and break a hip."

"Ooooh ouch. I'm not that old."

"No, but you're trashed and that'll do just as much damage. Bet you'll have a nice hefty bruise on your ass tomorrow."

"I'll be sure to show you if I do."

"Please don't." you giggled and and tried to pull him down the hall, but he slipped free of your grip and successfully trotted over to the stereo. "Craig, come on. What are you doing?"

"One song. One dance."

"What?? No Craig. I'm tired. You're sauced."

He took your hand and gave pitiful puppy eyes and a pouty lip. "But we're having fun. You make my shit life worth living. Please...dance with me."

You rolled your eyes. "Fiiiiine. ONE dance."

As he eagerly pulled you close, one hand on your upper back, the other on the small of it, the music began. You let your arms raise over his broad shoulders and placed one hand on the back of his neck and the other just below it. Slowly, you both moved in a perfect circle, eyes intertwined until he lowered his head to rest his sizzling cheek against yours. Closing his eyes, Craig began to sing in a whisper into your ear.

"So long, I've been looking too hard, I've been waiting too long. Sometimes I don't know what I will find. I only know it's a matter of time. When you love someone. When you love someone. It feels so right, so warm and true. I need to know if you feel it too. Maybe I'm wrong. Won't you tell me if I'm coming on too strong. This heart of mine has been hurt before. This time I want to be sure. I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life. I've been waiting for a girl like you. You're a love that will survive. I've been waiting for someone new to make me feel alive. Yeah, waiting for a girl like you to come into my life..."

Your eyes closed as the song went on, allowing yourself to take all of his closeness in. His scent, the way he felt against your body, the lyrics he now mumbled.

"When you love someone. Yeah, I really love someone. Now, I know it's right from the moment I wake up 'til deep in the night. There's nowhere on earth that I'd rather be than holding you tenderly."

You had to wonder, did he mean them? Or was he just singing? You were pretty sure you knew the answer and you were also pretty sure he purposely chose the song to help him express his feelings.

Sliding his cheek along yours, he now faced you, resting his forehead upon yours. His dilated eyes fluttered open and he traced his fingertips tenderly down your jawline, ceasing them under your chin as his feet also ceased and then...his lightly parted lips crept towards yours. Your eyes closed, anticipating their touch and just as they were close enough to tickle your lips, he swiftly pulled back, releasing you all together.

Craig placed one hand on his hip and the other to his mouth, his eyes glassy and wide. "I...I...think I'm going to be sick."

Off he swerved down the path to the bathroom with you chasing after him, but he swiftly shut the door before you could follow him in.

"No Jo, stay out. You don't want to..."

He paused and then you heard the upchuck. Roughly thirty seconds of silence went by in which you became concerned. "Craig???"

He did not answer so you had no choice but to defy his orders and went in. There he laid upon the cold tile, on his back, knees bent and his arm draped over his forehead as he gazed at the ceiling.

You immediately knelt beside him, feeling great empathy, for you had been in his position many times. "Oh Craig sweety, come on. Let me help you up."

In his humiliation, he said nothing and humbly accepted your help. Once he was in bed, he sighed and smiled, then turned onto his stomach to prop himself up. His lids were heavy as he tried to look at you sitting beside him. "Well that was absolutely embarrassing."

You softly giggled and placed your hand on his. "Hey, you've seen me in a bad way before, so now we're even once again. Why don't you lay back and try to sleep this off. I'll stay to make sure you're alright."

His slitted eyes fully opened. "You...you would do that for me?"

"Of course I would. Look at everything you have done for me Craig. Let me go turn off the music."

"No, please. Leave it on. It helps me sleep. I..I don't like the silence."

"Oh, ok. Let me at least get you some water."

You came back with an ice packed glass of water to find him still awake, but laying on his back under the covers. It made your teeth hurt to watch him gulp it down in less than 3 seconds.

"Ahhhhh." he sighed and sat the empty glass on the nightstand with a wobbly hand, then laid back down. "Hits the spot. Thank you Jo, for taking care of my drunk ass. It means a lot to me. You....mean a lot to me."

His eyes became heavy once more and as he desperately tried to fight it, he mumbled himself to sleep.

"I fooled around and fell in love. I fooled around and fell...."

"Asleep." you whispered as you gazed upon him, feeling rather melancholy and confused, but your mind was too scrambled by booze to sort it all out.

You laid down, keeping your distance from Craig and soon enough, you also passed out.

It was 6 a.m and Lee had just finished the last half of his shift at the hospital. He had earlier chosen not to go in due to the prison visit, but he wanted to keep busy instead of drinking himself into oblivion once again, for it was only taking a toll on his anxiety. The only problem was that it didn't keep the thoughts of you away. There was no absolution regarding you, no matter how much whiskey he drowned himself in, but he was certainly tempted to try as he sat in his office, repeatably glancing at the caramel colored liquid upon the table.

Giving in to only take one hefty swig, he gathered his things and headed out. As he was leaving, he unfortunately overheard the gossiping nurses speaking with Angel and he froze solid at the mention of your name. Concealing himself in a darkened hallway, he soon learned that you were seen in the ER for a severe anxiety attack, but the entire conversation was mostly revolved around how Craig was with you and how damn hot he was and that he and Orlando exchanged bitter words.

Immediately, he made his exit out the back to avoid Angel and ran into someone far worse... Gerry, who was walking across the parking lot. The two rivals glared each other down in their passing until Lee grabbed the detective's arm at the last second, spinning him around.

"The next time you put your lips on a woman, make sure she's available and that it's reciprocated."

Gerry looked down at his arm and then back up at Lee with a cocky grin. "Oh it WAS reciprocated. Even got a little tongue action. I'm on duty. I suggest you remove your hand before I take you in for assault."

Lee snickered and released him. "Judging by your face, looks like someone else beat me to the punch."

Gerry chuckled as he lit up a cigarette. "Yeah, you should see the other guy. Hey, you know him pretty well Doc. The tough guy ex WSB agent who thought he could fuck with me just like you think you can do right now. You know, you really should watch him when it comes to the woman you speak of. She has this tendency to have men wrapped around her sweet little finger. Gets them to do crazy things. Trust me, I know."

Lee bravely stepped forward. "I don't fucking like you."

"Hey hey hey, I like you even though you're the one who actually cheated." Gerry riposted as he blew smoke in Lee's face.

"What the fuck do you mea....you know what, never mind. It's too early in the morning for your fucking circus. Leave Jo alone. Your badge is nothing but a piece of tin in my eyes."

Lee snatched Gerry's cigarette straight from his lips and took a long drag, then crushed it beneath his foot and retreated.

Gerry scoffed and yelled back as he too walked away. "Can't do that bro. I had her love first. Remember that."

Once in the car, his entire body shook with rage as he white knuckled the steering wheel. Pulling his flask out of the glove box, he sucked it dry and then regrouped, for his main concern was your well being right now. He would deal with Gerry later if needed.

Lee then called you to see how you were doing. When you did not answer, he figured you were either sleeping or ignoring him but it didn't matter...he had to see you, for in that moment, his guilt sucker punched him over how poorly and unfairly he had treated you. Would it be too late? Would you offer him no reprieve after his heartless words? Had he pushed you too far this time? Would you choose Gerry eventually?

As he approached your door, he hesitated to knock, fearing either a slap in the face would be served or even worse, laughing in his face considering he believed he had it coming...but he would weather the storm to make sure you were alright. After multiple knocks, he decided to call you once again and when he did, his head whipped around to the sound of your ringtone coming from inside the apartment door across the hall.

Ending the call, Lee slowly made his way to the door and then he stood there in the silent hallway, listening, but all he could hear was muffled music from inside the apartment.

"Jo?" he called out as he knocked, which jimmied the unlatched door open.

Cautiously, he pushed it open to see a dimly lit empty room filled with the scent of your vampire perfume and cigarette smoke which left a floating fog in the air.

"Jo???" he called once more, but when he received no response, he stepped inside to look around.

Bottles of wine sat on the table where your purse and phone laid, blinking from his call and beside that was a full ashtray and two glasses, one revealing light sticky chap stick residue that formed visible lip imprints around the rim. And on the floor was a silky robe. Lee's heart sank into the pit of his stomach when he realized what he would soon find.

He turned to the lighted hallway and forced his feet to move. With great stealth, he followed the path that led to an open door and without hesitation, he walked inside.

It was instant, the devastation and heartbreak riddling his face and the sting of tears welling up into a glistening pool, clouding his vision. What he saw he could not unsee. You, sound asleep on the bed with your arm slung over your snoring shirtless landlord whom he assumed to be naked under the blanket that covered you both from the waist down.

As Lee moved closer to the side you were on, his furtive skills had been disabled from the shock along with the ability to think or react. Whispering your name was all he could do before he tripped over your boots that laid before his feet and stumbled into a picture frame upon the wall, knocking it off.

Your eyes blinked a few times before completely opening and then you saw him. "Lee??? Am I drea..."

Realizing it was no dream, you sprung to your feet with a screeching gasp which in turn awoke Craig. Although half awake, his mobster mode kicked right in and in merely seconds, he had a gun pointing right at Lee.

Without hesitation, you raced in front of Lee. "NOO! Put the gun down Craig!!!"

"JESUS!" Craig shouted in panic as he dropped the weapon. "Don't you EVER step in front of a gun Jo!!! What the fuck were you thinking???"

"Yes Jo...what were you thinking?" Lee calmly whispered, causing you to spin around to face him.

"To not let you die???"

"That's not what I was asking. I'd gladly take a bullet to kill this pain."

Tilting your head at him, you finally realized what was happening. "Oh noooo. No, no, no Lee. This is not what it...."

Craig interrupted with an angry growl. "What in the hell are you doing in my apartment! AND at 7 in the fucking morning?? How did you get in here?!!!"

Lee's eyes darted to him, slitting like a snake. "It opened as I knocked. You should be more careful with that. After all, there is a reason you carry a gun isn't there?"

"And here I thought I was the wise guy." Craig snapped as he put the gun away and tightened the drawstring on the pants Lee assumed he was not wearing. "Although it's MY bedroom, I'll show myself out to relieve myself after this fiasco. I don't take kindly to intruders. Be gone when I get back Dr. Pace. Next time I won't be so nice."

Craig stormed out and Lee just stared at you as if he was looking right through you. "I suppose I expected this with Gerry but with this guy? Wow, you really got me there."

"Yeah, just like you really got me too when you slept with Angel!!"

Lee's brows furrowed and then it finally clicked as to what Gerry meant by saying Lee was the one who actually cheated. "Now wait a minute. I don't know what you heard or think but..."

"Shut up! I don't even know why you're here. You ended us remember?? Fuck forever?? Back to single on social media the very next day?? All because I was honest with you about Gerry and everything else that day at the cemetery but honesty is something you know nothing about AND for fuck sake Lee. I just stood in front of a fucking gun to protect you without a single thought for my own life and THIS is all you can think about?? Even if what you think happened here DID happen, it's technically none of your damn business anymore now is it??? So let me give you a taste of your own medicine Doc...FUCK FOREVER!"

The physical pain of Lee's anxiety was written all over his face and as you sped past him to leave, purposely banging the door against the wall, he had to briefly cover his mouth in fear he would hurl right then and there.

Successfully keeping his vomit at bay, he then turned and raced off after you.

*to be continued........................

@redeemer46

[hollygl125]

All I Ever Wanted Was to Stand Beside You: Costa Rica to the Ishmael, and Then Some: A How They Fell Apart & How They Came Back Together Story

[jessica-leatherman]

Journal entries from the Fore Square book series

What did Bert Cola of Wichita, Kansas do to Rose Manleather?

How did he and his family use their infinite money and power to conceal his crime?

FORE SQUARE book series is available on Amazon.

Our main character is dyslexic and her stories and journal are unedited and heavily doused in metaphor, code, advanced humor, innuendos and symbolism. The books are in different times and settings for the reader to piece back the lofes puzzle together and for the reader to come to their own conclusion.

Are you smart enough to figure out what shes telling you and solve the mystery? Or are you capable of having your own Double Cola Talk epiphany and get the answers?

The 5th book of the FORE SQUARE series is to be published January 29th, 2024-Kansas Day on Amazon

More FREE HIDDEN stories on writers Instagram ProFile jessica_leatherman

[mxtxfanatic]

Interesting commentary about how most people will identify with victims/victimhood while feeling discomfort when others identify with perpetrators, especially given the fact we live in societies (at least the one I’m in and the one that book was written in) that habitually materially revile victims on every level while championing and supporting perpetrators of certain violence.

[bendingthelaws]

15

Chapter 14

There is some tension in the autopsy suite when people forget their place...

Karsten didn’t miss the amused look on Declan’s face when he and Serena walked into the private autopsy suite.  Something told him their moment in the garage had not gone unnoticed or possibly unwatched.  That was a conversation for when Serena and Spencer weren’t around. Even if Spencer knew, he wasn’t going to do anything that would upset Serena, not after finally having some kind of a start with her.

Trying to ignore Declan, Karsten took in the rest of the room.  Looked like Spence had been setting everything up.  “There a reason you stopped what you were doing, Spence?”  An eyebrow rose.  Please don’t let it be that the two men who had been waiting for them were now going to give both him and Rena shit.  Dec busting his balls he expected later, but Spencer?  That would be new.

“That door causes awful wind noise on the mic, and anything said/done is then observable.  Standard procedure.  I was documenting setup, now I’ll turn it back on so we can document the transfer of evidence. Then you guys can get your coats off and Rena can get into scrubs.  Unless you’d prefer to do the examination in your coat and nice suit, boss?”  Spencer winked teasingly over at Serena.  He knew that she already had known the answer, even if Declan looked like he was about to embarrass the shit out of her at any second.  It would be a shame if his scalpel slipped and the big guy was cut so he had to go get stitches.  Declan had promised, and Spencer was going to hold him to it.

“No, scrubs are definitely preferable.  Karsten, lock the door to the hall, please.”  She turned and looked at him with a smile, butterflies still flitting around in her stomach.  He was handsome, strong, brave, and everything good that she could think of.  Their kiss may have come at the absolute worst time as far as timing, but she didn’t regret it. Even if it was going to complicate things with Keegan. However, she couldn’t let any of that get in the way of her work.

Once the door was locked, she turned back to the other two men, giving a pointed look to Declan that had him standing up straighter and the smile wiped off of his face.  She had a feeling that somehow Spencer and Declan knew about the kiss, but she wasn’t going to let this turn into anything other than what it should be:  a respectful situation where the eye of a poor girl who was at that very moment probably being tortured, or worse.  “Whatever it is that you find amusing, Detective O’Malley, I suggest that you get it out of your system, or get your ass out of my autopsy suite.  There is nothing remotely amusing or funny that ever takes place in here; nothing about this situation is an exception.”  Her tone was chiding, and it had both Spencer and Karsten raising eyebrows.  Head ME Cavenaugh was taking charge of her autopsy suite; heaven help anyone that got in her way.

While Karsten had almost choked laughing at the way Rena had put Declan in his place, he was NOT going to let her see his amusement.  Thankfully he was standing slightly behind her because it was clear that the mood in the room had just become a lot more serious.  Just how Declan had reacted before she’d even said a word told him that she must have looked pissed.  Karsten had just made a step forward with her, he wasn’t going to get body-slammed backward now.  “Should we, uh, turn that recorder thing back on so we can get started?  I’m starting to roast over here and I’d like to know what we’re dealing with.  You going to be able to handle that, Dec?”  A sarcastic smile was thrown over at his partner, although his tone said he was all business.  Spence was smirking; smart man not to laugh at the nonverbal barbs being thrown.

“Yes, let’s get this going.  Deterioration of the eye and all.” Spencer cleared his throat and felt a bit twitch now.  Boss was now touchy and he wasn’t going to press his luck.  Reaching up, Spencer flipped the switch to turn on the video cameras and audio equipment, so that it recorded once more.  Once again he stated the date, the new time, and who was in the room.  Then all the procedural bullshit had to take place so that the chain of evidence was maintained.  He hated that part but knew that if things ever made it to court that it would be vital.  

While there had not been a formal recording, there had been video still being taken of the room while the evidentiary recording had been stopped.  This was for two reasons.  1 - Security.  The room was always monitored so that if there WAS any tampering of evidence while the room was empty, there would be documentation.   2 - Safety.  There were a lot of people who wanted things hidden that would come out in an autopsy.  The video camera was a silent witness.  It didn’t pick up audio, but faces were clear as day.  Should anyone come into the room, there was documentation even if there was no actual autopsy going on.

Once Spencer had started the recording again for evidence, she did the handoff to him and headed toward the door that led to the private locker room to the suite so she could change out of the suit she was wearing and into scrubs for the exam.  Even though she was only doing the post-mortem on an eye, she wanted to maintain proper procedure.  One of the things that Constantin Rakeovich had tended to skate out of trouble on was inconsistencies in procedure.  She didn’t want to give him that opening now.

The locker room off of the autopsy suite had two lockers in it.  One for Spencer and one for her.  Serena locked the door behind her and headed to get changed into her scrubs and pull her hair back for the post-mortem.  As she started to change, she could hear the men’s voices low outside the door.  She couldn’t hear what they were saying clearly though.  Hopefully, they had turned off the audio when she had left the room or they were talking about the case.  The last thing they needed was chit-chat being caught on audio.  Since they just needed to document that the cooler had remained sealed while she was changing, they could turn off the audio and just leave the video trained on the cooler.  She’d have to trust Spencer was experienced enough to do just that.  

As soon as Spencer heard the door lock, he turned the audio recording off.   He had no clue what Declan was going to say, but he had a good idea that they didn’t want it recorded.  The cooler, all of the surgical instruments, and all other evidentiary items were in plain view of the video camera he left on.  The lack of audio wouldn’t make a difference as far as the evidentiary chain of custody.  The rest of the room was still covered by the surveillance camera, so if there was any question, that could be viewed as well.  The only thing NOT being recorded in some form or fashion was Serena changing, and there were laws that pertained to that.

“Took you long enough,” Declan leaned up against the coolers that lined one wall of the autopsy suite.  “Thought you were going to be drawing retirement or attending her wedding to Mulvaney before you got the nerve to say something to her.  Nice kiss by the way.”  The smile on the man’s face rivaled that of the Cheshire Cat from Alice.  

He’d known it was coming, but still, Declan’s words almost made Karsten growl.  The look on Dec’s face had made it clear that he’d known what had happened out in the garage.  It wasn’t till he remembered the security camera feeds that went to several of the autopsy areas that he knew how.  Because there was a door directly into the garage from Rena’s private suite, it had a feed of the garage so you could see who was outside the door if need be. It didn’t bother him that they’d had an audience, but if Declan caused Serena to get upset, there’d be hell for someone to pay.

“Fuck you Dec.”  Kase flipped his partner off.  “I was trying to be respectful.  Something you obviously need lessons on.  But I think we all knew that.”  Great, the last thing Kase needed was his partner on his ass about Rena.  At least he knew Dec liked the woman, maybe more than liked.  She was a sweet person and had made more than one case for a cop that the evidence had been a little light on.  They all liked her.

“If you two want to have a hug fest, I suggest you do it in the hall.  Boss is going to have one or both of your asses if you get into it in here.  She’s pretty handy with a scalpel, and I don’t want to have to clean up the blood.”  Spencer rolled his eyes and sat down at the desk to take some notes before everything got started.  He knew the two cops very well; they were like brothers, sometimes a little too much.  

“Nah, we’re good.  Aren’t we Kase?”  Dec gave Karsten another shit-eating grin.  “I’m just proud my boy here’s balls finally dropped.  Maybe now his voice will deepen a little more.”  He winked at Karsten.  Spencer again rolled his eyes and turned his back to the cops.  He wanted no part of this.  Nope, none at all.

“You are a royal ass, Dec!” Karsten growled.  He knew he was going to keep hearing about this.  At least his partner seemed smart enough not to say anything in front of Rena.  If he did, there would be bigger issues between them.  “Like I was just supposed to just move in the day after Rob left.  I’m not that big of an ass.  I’m already going to hear it from Mulvaney and we both know it.  Not that I give a fuck.  Glow bug can kiss my ass.”

Dec full-out laughed.  “Yeah, he’s going to have a problem with it alright.  From what I hear from Riaz over at the station house, he’s been working on getting close to her since the day Rob walked out.  He didn’t wait, then again maybe he has a set of balls. That she’s been hanging out at Kelleher’s hasn’t hurt any either.  Now that yours have finally dropped, you can get on with things too.”  Dec shook his head.  “Am I going to have to keep you two separated for a while?  Two males fighting over a bitch in heat.”

“If he’s got a problem, that’s his problem.  He knew how I felt even before Rob left.  If he thought that was going to change after Rob left, that’s not my problem.  And watch it, asshole, that’s Rena you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you landed the big fish this time.  But can you keep her in your bed and not have her going to visit her favorite glow bug?  I mean, they have been pretty chummy.  I’ve heard she’s been over to his place.”  Now he was just getting under his partner’s skin for the hell of it.  He knew Karsten couldn’t do anything with Spencer and Serena around.  Watching the red creep up Kase’s neck was amusing the fuck out of him though, boy had it bad for the doc.

“I think I’m perfectly capable of keeping Rena happy, asshole.  I don’t think she’ll be looking anywhere else for satisfaction.  I’ll keep her nice and happy in my bed, not that it should be a worry of yours.” Kase was gritting his teeth.  At times he wanted to deck his partner.

Good god, they were not going to shut up about this and where this was going was about to piss Spencer straight off.  Spinning around in his chair, Spencer leveled a pointed glare at both of them.  “Might I remind you both that we’re talking about my boss, your friend,” he looked over to Declan, “and someone you claim to care about.”  Now it was Karsten’s turn to come under scrutiny.  “This isn’t one of your cop groupies that hangs out at Mulligan’s hoping to snag one of you boys in blue.  Either knock off talking about her like she’s some prize to be won,” the glare he gave Dec had the larger man actually shrinking back slightly, “or a bitch in heat or get the fuck out of this autopsy suite.  I get you boys like to talk about your conquests like drunken frat boys when you’re at the station or out drinking, but I’m not going to have it.”  He started flipping a spare scalpel between his fingers.    

Spencer stood up and looked between the two cops.  He wasn’t big enough to take on Declan, but Karsten possibly.  Either way, he was tired of listening to them.  Hadn’t Serena been put through enough by a cop?  “Now, either of you have a problem with that?  Or do I need to turn the audio back on so Serena can hear exactly how little respect either you have for her?”  Arms crossed over his chest he looked at the two men, almost daring one of them to open their mouths again.  The banter had started fine, but he’d had enough when they’d started talking about bedding her.

Karsten rubbed the back of his neck in agitation.  Spencer was right and he knew it.  He’d let Declan bait him into sounding like an ass.  “I’m done with the conversation.  The only other person besides Rena herself that I need to talk about any of this with is Mulvaney, and I guarantee you it’s not going to go the way this one did.  The glow bug actually has some class.”  He leaned back against the cold concrete wall behind him.  That wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to either.  He was either going to lose a friend, or probably Rena, he hoped not both.

Declan looked at the floor.  He’d been so focused on goading Kase that he hadn’t thought about how it sounded, or how he’d referred to someone he did consider a friend, an ally, and an all-around good person.  “I’m done.  Sorry, Spence.  Sorry, Kase.” Spence was right, they’d been asses and had sounded like frat boys.  He was disappointed in himself, he wouldn’t have talked about any of the female officers he worked with that way.  He respected Rena, highly so, and Spencer was right that she didn’t deserve how he and Kase had handled things.  He knew Kase had responded how he had because Dec had irritated him till he didn’t think before talking.  He was thankful for small favors that Rena hadn’t walked back out while they were talking.

“Good.  Now one of you go get coffee because I haven’t had enough to deal with your bullshit and an eye from some poor girl that is probably being tortured as we speak.  Get one for the boss too.  And if either of you gets out of line once she’s back in here, you won’t have to worry about her prowess with a scalpel, I’ll castrate you myself.”  Both men’s eyebrows rose as Spencer flopped back in his desk chair and spun around to resume paperwork.  His normal patience was gone, and for the first time in a long time, he’d just snapped at someone.

[rubsjuice]

Nobody batted an eye when rose did this for greg but now that the baby daddy committed war crimes its all "this is so not #feminist rebecca"

[xanyiaz]

ok so this is random but i wrote a screenplay (basically a script) for a short film for my coursework a while ago and whilst i unfortunately lost it 😭 i really liked the idea/concept of it as like a short story and at the time when i wrote it, i wanted to make it even longer but i didn't bc my film teacher said it was too complicated 💀💀

but ANYWAYS i'm thinking of rewriting it and posting it for people to read 🤭 i tried writing a blurb for it below lol‼️

it wouldn't be a book or anything, just a veryvery short story- like maybe a few chapters.

[statementlou]

Hi,

Is the liam article that you read the new one behind a pay wall? I can't access it but I would be really interested to see what it says about how things went. Would it be possible for you to tell how does it explain what led to his fall? Maybe under a cut so anyone who doesn't want to see can skip it?

Thank you and you don't obviously have to do it if you're not comfortable.

oh that's weird it wasn't blocked for me- here this should work for everyone if not lmk. @ other anon there aren't really very graphic pictures imo that's just the clickbait bs but text is below

basically he suggests that the hotel staff took Liam up to his room and then he changed into incognito type clothes (black jacket and cap) and attempted to sneak out of his room by going from the balcony along the side of the building, as we know he (and others of them) have done many times over the years, and which he apparently is documented as having done pretty recently, and presumably lost full or partial consciousness and fell. The waiter Braian who he spent time with in the weeks in Argentina talked in his first interview about Liam jamming the keycard slot in his door previously, which would explain the part here where employees say they can't get into his room.

It is a picture that will shock music fans around the world: the late British pop star Liam Payne being manhandled through a hotel lobby by three men, just minutes before his fatal fall from a third-floor balcony.

The tragic image, which has been given to the Daily Mail, was taken from CCTV footage recorded inside the CasaSur Palermo Hotel in Buenos Aires where Payne was staying at the time of his death on October 16.

High on drugs, Payne, whose face we have chosen to obscure, appears to have been picked up by the trio of hotel employees – he had, according to one witness, been ‘convulsing’ on the lobby floor. He was taken, via the elevator, back to his third-floor suite. 

The question is, why did they move him at all, if he was so ill? Why did the hotel not call an ambulance straight away?

The timestamp on the still image shows 16:54:48. Bizarrely, however, a second picture taken from CCTV outside Liam's room shows the three employees and Payne at 16:54:37. In other words, apparently eleven seconds before they were in the lobby.

The journey from the lobby to the third floor takes at least 90 seconds, according to one guest. Clearly at least one of the timestamps is incorrect.

In an image that will shock music fans around the world, the late British pop star Liam Payne is manhandled through the CasaSur Palermo Hotel lobby by three men, just minutes before his fatal fall from a third-floor balcony. One witness claimed he had been 'convulsing' on the floor

He was taken, via the elevator, back to his third-floor suite. The tragic footage given to the Daily Mail was taken from CCTV recorded inside the hotel in Buenos Aires - where Payne was staying at the time of his death on October 16

This picture outside Liam's room shows the three employees and Payne at 16:54:37. In other words, apparently eleven seconds before they were in the lobby. The journey from the lobby to the third floor takes at least 90 seconds, according to one guest. Clearly at least one of the timestamps is incorrect

What we know for certain is that shortly after 17:00, Payne fell 13 metres from the balcony of his room into the hotel's inner courtyard. He died instantaneously.

At 17:11, an ambulance arrived and certified the singer's death. A subsequent autopsy found Payne had suffered 'multiple traumas' causing 'internal and external bleeding.' The toxicology report found traces of 'alcohol, cocaine and prescription antidepressant.'

Just days after Payne's funeral, which took place on Wednesday at St Mary's Church in Amersham, Buckinghamshire, the images perhaps offer a somewhat clearer picture of what happened leading up to the tragic accident. They also raise two serious questions.

To repeat, the first is why would hotel staff – who expressed concern in their call to the emergency services that Payne could come to serious harm on his suite's balcony – take the intoxicated singer up to his room and leave him there alone?

And second, for reasons I will explain, did Liam fall from the balcony while attempting to leave the hotel undetected - a trick he had been pulling since his days in One Direction and which he had repeated just a month previously to evade a concerned bodyguard in Florida?

If the CCTV timestamp is accurate, the sequence of events begins at 15:53 on October 16 when Liam enters the hotel with his friend, the Argentine-American businessman Roger Nores.

Liam is at this point wearing a black cap – which he donned to avoid being recognised by his legions of Latin American fans – and carrying a small bag containing his personal belongings.

The star appears in good spirits and chats with fans in the lobby before heading up to his room with Nores shortly after 16:00.

Payne died after he fell from the balcony of his third-floor suite - just minutes after hotel staff escorted the pop star through the lobby

Payne's suite was found in disarray, with drug paraphernalia strewn across one of the tables. Furniture had also been destroyed

A few minutes later, at 16:05 if the timestamp is right, the pair return to the lobby. Liam has brought his laptop down with him and – crucially, where this timeline is concerned – left his cap and bag up in his third-floor suite.

He continues to chat with a small group of American fans, discussing his life in Florida, where the singer was renting a $12,000 a month house with his girlfriend, the American influencer Kate Cassidy.

At 16:06, Nores says goodbye to Liam and leaves the hotel. At this time, Liam remains in good spirits and continues to interact with hotel guests. At 16:26, Liam is pictured lounging in the lobby, scrolling on his laptop.

Two minutes later at 16:28, Liam is photographed making one of what witnesses later described as three or four trips up to his room in a roughly 30-minute period. Each time he returns to the lobby, his behaviour appears increasingly erratic.

At one point, a witness recalled Payne receiving an email to which he exclaims: 'F*** this s*** mate,' before striking his computer on the floor.

In a separate outburst, he tells another hotel guest: 'I used to be in a boyband – that's why I'm so f***** up.'

It now appears that on the occasions Payne is said to have gone up to his room, he is likely to have been ingesting narcotics. The next known picture of him is this desperately sad one of him being hauled away by the hotel staff at 16:54:48.

Two of the men pictured carrying Payne away are dressed in the uniform of CasaSur reception staff. The Mail understands that one of the two is chief receptionist Esteban Grassi. The third man – wearing trainers, shorts and a T-shirt – works as a masseur in the hotel spa.

A vigil is held by fans for Payne in Buenos Aires the day after his death. Mourners were filmed singing his songs in candle-light

Heartbreaking moment Liam Payne fans break down in tears at vigil

A few minutes after taking the singer back to his room, the hotel put in a call to the emergency services.

'I'm calling you from the hotel CasaSur Palermo,' says chief receptionist Esteban Grassi. 'So, we have a guest who is high on drugs and who is trashing the room. Erm, so we need someone to come.'

The line then cuts out, but Grassi calls 911 again and continues: 'We need you to send someone urgently because, well, I don't know whether his life may be in danger, the guest's life. He is in a room with a balcony and well, we're afraid he might do something.'

The transcript from the 911 call shows that the operator asked reception staff whether they could gain access to Payne's room. The staff replied that they could not.

But why on earth, if Esteban Grassi was indeed concerned that Payne's life was in danger because his room had a balcony, did the hotel allow the singer to be taken up to that room and seemingly left there? And why would they call 911 just a couple of minutes after doing so? At the time of writing, the hotel has not responded to a request for comment.

It would surely have been more appropriate to hold the 'convulsing' Payne in the lobby and call an ambulance immediately. Did hotel staff prioritise keeping the lobby clear for other guests over Payne's safety and well-being?

The Mail understands that no members of the CasaSur hotel staff – including the three men who carried Payne away – are being investigated by Argentine authorities.

Three individuals have been labelled as 'people of interest' in Payne's death. They include 24-year-old Brian Nahuel Paiz and 21-year-old Ezequiel David Pereyra, both on suspicion of dealing Payne drugs.

An Instagram post by 24-year-old Brian Nahuel Paiz, who stands beside the late singer before he fell to his death last month. The post reads: 'Fly high, Chief. Thank you for having enlightened me and for crossing you into my reality. I will always remember you'

The third man is Roger Nores, who – despite having left the hotel long before Payne's erratic behaviour began – has been accused of 'abandonment of a person before death'.

Nores strongly denies the allegation and told the Mail two weeks ago: 'I never abandoned Liam, I went to his hotel three times that day and left 40 minutes before this happened. There were over 15 people at the hotel lobby chatting and joking with him when I left.'

The prolific entrepreneur – who in 2017 featured in the Forbes '30 under 30' list of influential young people for his role in the energy industry – continued: 'I could have never imagined something like this would happen. I'm really heart-broken with this tragedy, and I've been missing my friend every day.'

But while the behaviour of hotel staff leaves more questions than answers, this new picture published by the Mail today leads back to that second question – and a new possibility as to what actually happened when the singer died.

Quite clearly, the picture shows that as the pop-star is taken back to his room, he is neither wearing his black cap or clutching his bag.

And yet, when Payne's body was recovered by the emergency services at 17:11, he was found to be wearing the black cap and to have on his person the small bag he used when out and about.

In other words, it appears that between being returned to his hotel room and being found dead, Liam Payne got dressed to go out.

Could it be that Liam Payne slipped while attempting to leave the CasaSur hotel via his balcony, in a bid to avoid detection by hotel staff?

The Mail understands that hotel staff remained outside his room – according to a statement in the prosecutor's file – seemingly to ensure he did not return to the lobby and disturb other guests.

Police found a host of drug paraphernalia in Payne's room, including burnt pieces of tin foil and traces of white powder. It is certainly plausible Payne may have panicked in his paranoid state and made an ill-fated attempt to purposefully climb out of his room from his balcony.

In a further revelation, a source close to Payne has confirmed to the Mail that the pop star frequently climbed out of hotel balconies in order to avoid detection. In fact, it was a trick he and his bandmates learnt in the early days of their fame to evade their management team while on tour with One Direction. And, shockingly, the Mail can reveal it is also a trick Payne used just one month prior to his death in Florida.

My source revealed that on September 15, while staying at his rental property in Palm Beach, Payne wanted to go out and purchase drugs. His bodyguard, aware of the singer's problem with narcotics and attempts to stay clean, had closed the door to his room and urged the singer not to go out looking for a 'hit'.

Undeterred, my source says the singer escaped via his balcony, stringing a set of sheets together to act as a rope.

Further proof of Liam's high-risk stunts emerged shortly after his death when a picture resurfaced from 2014 showing the then 20-year-old singer standing on a narrow exterior ledge of the 34th floor of his London apartment building – some 350 ft in the air.

The photograph was taken following a night of raucous celebrations marking One Direction bandmate Zayn Malik's 21st birthday.

Later that day, the singer issued an apology to his impressionable young fans, saying: 'You may have seen a photo of me today, taken on top of a building. I regret being there and having a photo taken of me.'

'I do not endorse any fans trying to repeat this as it is extremely dangerous,' Payne's apology continued. 'It was a stupid and irresponsible thing to do. I am sorry.'

Fans have since taken to social media to point out the tragic foreshadowing between the 2014 picture and Liam's death five weeks ago.

The truth is that no one will ever know for sure what Liam Payne's intentions were on that fateful afternoon of October 16. However, the release of this latest picture from the CasaSur hotel lobby helps fill a hole in the sequence of events that led to his fatal fall.

One thing is for sure, the image of Payne as he is taken out of the lobby, at a time when he appears to have needed care and immediate medical attention, raises new and profound questions about where responsibility lies in the tragic tale of the deeply troubled star.What the fuck

[pulpsandcomics2]

Doctor Death Feb 1935