#fixed it now it should be in accusative case i guess?????

[hikaruchen]

To Embrace and Kiss the Lord.

INPRNT

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Speedpaint Video:

[rist-ix]

Small Tbhtbh Snippet!

It's two weeks past the end of my internship and I still haven't gotten much done in the way of fanfic, so as compensation (and proof that im still writing!): Have A Snippet!

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She walks through the Palace, past the portraits of past rulers and long-dead relatives, until she finds her sister.

The sculpture of her is half-crumbled. There must have been a window broken, in the walls of this tower, one that’s only recently been fixed, because wind and ice seem to have worn down the pale stone of the statue over time. Her face is unrecognizable, the edges of her mask reduced to jagged stumps. One side is worse than the other, like the wind came from her left.

But she knows it’s her. She’d know her anywhere.

“Talk to me,” Bloom says.

Her voice echoes in the room, small and alone. Bouncing off of glass cases and strange instruments, of paintings and smaller statues. It’s the only sound they’re introduced to – not even the howling of the wind can be heard from here.

“Talk to me,” she repeats. “Or am I boring you, when I’m not actively dying?”

It’s dark. No golden light weaving through the shadows, no otherworldly glow to disturb this artful mausoleum. The only light comes from behind her, through the doorframe she came through. Her shadow doesn’t even reach the podium Daphne’s sculpture was placed on, to loom over all else in the room.

“Is that what it takes to get your attention?” she asks into the darkness. “Tearing myself open? You used to haunt me day in and day out, once. Have you forgotten how?”

The worn down stone gives no answer; Daphne’s face remains blank. She looks away. At least some things stay the same.

“Or do you think it’s not worth it, anymore. Now that I know my powers, and am not bleeding to death.”

Her hands run over the dusty stone tables, past the mysterious utensils and metal instruments. She takes one up at random, but gets no closer to understanding its function. A strange assembly of metal plates and rings, with no discernible purpose. She runs her finger over the edge of it. It looks sharp enough to cut.

“You’re really unreliable, you know that?” she murmurs down at her own hands. The metal glints in the low light. Stray beams catching on its polished surface, travelling along its curves and edges. She places it back down.

“I guess it runs in the family.”

She breathes out, sinking to the floor. Her throat is sore and her nose is running, and the big woolen shirt she’s thrown on to ward off the cold looks ridiculous. Not that there’s anyone here who would mind. She leans back against the table, her head falling back against it with a thud. Her hand moves to cover the mark etched into her neck, always warm, no matter her surroundings.

“You’re mad at me,” she says. “Is that it? You threw your life away for me, and now I’m here.”

The silence doesn’t protest. It doesn’t accuse her, either. It ignores her, the way a good silence ought to. Stars. Her head hurts.

“No, you wouldn’t be,” she gives in, after a moment. It feels venomous, to blame someone who isn’t there to defend themselves. To accuse someone, when she knows better. “You never were.”

She sighs, and stares at her hand as if the red of Valtor’s Mark might have rubbed off on it, like blood. He’ll be looking for her soon.

“You should be,” she says. “I would be. In my place, you would have… I don’t know what you would have done. I can’t imagine you ever being in this position in the first place.”

Her hand curls into a fist. Nails digging into the soft flesh of her palm, one by one.

“I’m so angry at you,” she whispers.

There’s dust trailing through the air. Dancing through the feint light from the corridor. It’s candle light, buttery yellow, but to her it feels all wrong.

“You should have helped me. We were right there, at your doorstep. You should have stopped me. Known better.”

Her fist hits the side of the desk beside her, hard enough to make the wood crack and the metal tools clink, above her.

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

Frustration burrows into her like a splinter into flesh, deeper and deeper the more she tries to worry at it. There’s a warbling kind of growl in her throat, and she buries her face in her hands so she doesn’t have to look up.

“It’s my fault,” she struggles, “I get it. My choices, my consequences. But you were there too!”

The dust on her hands feels like sand, for a moment; the desk she’s leaning against like that rock she’d once been tied to. Roccaluce’s empty lake bed towering around them like the walls of a canyon, witnessing the most disastrous decision she’d ever made.

“You’re supposed to be older, wiser than me,” she rasps out, tasting salt on her tongue. “Or does that only count when it’s about the Dragon Flame? Is my life — my friends’ lives — just not part of your job description? Are we not worth the hassle for you?”

There’s no answer. No explanation. She’s not there anymore, in that drained lake in Magix, she’s here. In another lonely tower, housing another lonely girl. Granted, this one’s made of stone. She sighs again.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her hands sink to the ground, before she decides to hide them in her sleeves instead. She glances up at Daphne’s non-existent face, and wonders what she hoped to see there.

“But I did,” she tells her softly. “I’m the one who has to live with it. I can’t keep worrying about what you’d think of me. I’ll go crazy.”

Daphne doesn’t answer. A regular occurrence for dead people, she’s been told. She coughs out a half-laugh, rubbing her temples.

“Maybe I already did.”

She pulls up her knees. Up towards her chest, until she can hide them underneath that big sweater of hers. The cold is starting to seep through the fabric, but she hugs her legs to her chest and tries to preserve all the warmth she has left.

“That’s what I wanted to say to you, I think,” she muses aloud. Tightens her grasp on her limbs, sets her chin down on her knees. “You’re not here. You didn’t help me. There’s nothing I can do anymore.”

She closes her eyes.

“So it’s my life now, okay? You don’t get to judge me. Please.”

The quiet settles like the dust around her, once her echo rings out. Slowly, softly. This silence is a heavy blanket. She wonders what this room used to be. It’s been fixed up, so Valtor or one of the Trix must have used it, at one point. What meaning could it have held in the past, for Daphne’s statue to be standing here so prominently? Did she ever stand here, to look at her own likeness? Did she ever bring her here, those precious few days they had both existed in the same realm? She stares at the sculpture, and frowns a little accusatory.

“You really could stand to give me a sign, or something,” she mutters. “Ghosts shouldn’t be this stingy. Especially not royal ones. I’ve seen your treasury.”

Maybe this had been just another study, where old artwork was being kept. Maybe her sister had spent no more time here than she had. She lets her head sink again. Hides her face in her soft woolen collar.

“I miss you,” she says to no one.

She doesn’t say anything, after that. There’s a tingling feeling in her neck, and then a shadow cutting through the rectangle of light cast onto the floor.

“Bloom,” Valtor sighs. “There you are. You should be resting. What are you doing here?”

She looks up at the doorframe and waves at him, too long sleeves still dangling over her hands.

“Catching up,” she shrugs. Then she coughs again, making Valtor curse and stalk towards her.

“Catching another cold, more likely.”

“Well, this one is definitely your fault,” she reminds him, swatting away his hand when he attempts to feel her temperature. “So if anyone’s chiding anyone here, it should be me.”

“Yes, yes,” Valtor waves her off, sounding very un-chided. “You can still do that in bed, can’t you?”

“Oh hey, guess what else we could have done in bed? Instead of a dark, freezing corridor?”

His lips twitch in a way that implies he’s entirely remorseless. Whether it’s because he doesn’t regret getting her naked as quickly as possible, that night, or because he enjoys getting to fuss over her, she doesn’t know. She’ll sneeze on him first chance she gets, she decides either way.

“I do hope you get better soon,” he kneels down next to her, brushing the dust from her hair. “Being sick makes you very prickly.”

“Pah! I don’t need to be sick to– Hey! What are you doing?”

In one smooth motion, he’s used her distraction to pull her into his arms and stand back up, her legs dangling uselessly from his arms.

“You’re ill,” he smiles innocently. “Sick people shouldn’t exert themselves. I’m carrying you back to your room.”

She struggles vehemently against his grip, something that is made infinitely more difficult by those oversized sleeves of hers.

“If I walked all the way up here, and can walk all the way back do— Hmmmmm. Actually, never mind. You’re very warm.”

He is. Unfairly so, really. That floor was very, very cold, and whatever sneeze-related revenge fantasies she’s been harboring are promptly put on the back burner so she can burrow her face into the silky layers of his shirt. Valtor doesn’t move for a full five seconds. Then he looks up and promptly begins to walk.

“I rescind what I said,” he says, sounding far too happy with himself.

“You should catch a cold more often.”

She refrains from snapping back this time. That would require her to pull her face out of the very soft, very warm ruffles of his collar, and she’s decided that that has priority, now. It’s only when he pauses at the entrance that she deigns to look up again.

“…something wrong?”

She can’t see his face clearly. Half of her vision is taken up by pale swirls of silk and lace trims, but she can see his jaw above her, his lips pressed together pensively.

“I thought I locked this door,” he says, facing the doorframe. She doesn’t remember breaking a lock to get in, so she doesn’t answer, instead opting to burrow back into his warmth. If he wants to accuse her of snooping where she shouldn’t, he can wait until she’s back to fighting form. After a moment, Valtor shakes his head and walks on, lips brushing over her forehead.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Let’s get you out of the cold.”

[2demondogs]

HIIIIIII RAHHH

sorry

Im the same anon who asked you to write the latest arthur x m!reader and omgg you envisioned what i wanted so well! you're an amazing author!!

I was also wondering if you were up to write more parts to this specific prompt of the affair? it doesn't have to be smut again, just a continuation of the story ykyk?

Thank you so much, I'm so glad you liked it! <3 Sorry this took so long, I had an immediate plot come to mind bc I'm fuckin' heavy w this AU but then I got nerfed by life. Original work I'm writing rn is affair-based too... I'm on a messy gay bitches kick I guess lol. No smut in this one.

For the uninitiated, part one is here. On Ao3, I've just added this as a 2nd chapter.

Words: 3.6k Tags: pre-canon, extramarital affairs (reader's married to a gal), chalk full of messy drama, this is like a situationship but even more evil

The bruises Arthur left lasted for nearly two weeks.

You're thankful that the soreness wasn't present for quite as long, coming in hard and fast in the morningtime. It felt like you'd sat on hot coals. Riding home was nearly unbearable, and not only because — for some reason that couldn't've been worth what it did to your heart — the man spent the night with you. Maybe he thought it would feel less transactional than an evening together usually must, though you'd not know. Maybe he holds every man he lays with while he sleeps.

The fact you don't know anything substantial about Arthur, sometimes, bothers you. Your wife wanted to lose her virginity on a more special occasion than her wedding day which also, sometimes, bothers you.

Anymore, you twist the ring around your finger and quiet that blackness in your gut by reminding yourself: if she's got someone else, well— haven't I?

She doesn't, you know. Never have you been one to play those petty games of accusation based only in your own sorrows. As you ready for bed, there is no other man undoing the laces of her corset. Nor does he do them up in the mornings, having learned exactly how tight she likes them done; no other woman fixes your ties when you wear one, nor goes to undo the first button of your collar because it looks less stiff this way.

Stiff is the awfulest thing, your wife believes, a man could be. You suppose you're inclined to agree, in most cases. It certainly does not ease the tension in your shoulders to know you're becoming stiff, and for reasons she's not privy to.

She hasn't got another, no.

Have you?

Firstly, it would break her heart. Or at least, you think as much. It felt too fresh to be desired how you were, openly and hotly, by Arthur. A wife should be her man's best friend and her, his, but is she too friendly? You had rolled that one around your head until the purple on your chest began to fade and you were beginning to forget, with a great sense of regret for how fast memories discolor themselves, how Arthur had looked at you that first moment alone. By then, it was beginning to aggravate you how difficult women's clothes are to do and undo.

Secondly, you hadn't been able to shake the idea that she'd find out. Someone saw you, you fear, and felt so bad for your poor betrothed that they're about to risk their own life to out you. Any minute now, two years of marriage and many more of some sort of love will be lost.

It'd been awful enough trying to fall asleep in a place with such a target over its head. It was foolish, you know now that you are no longer aroused and careless, to not find another, safer room to board in for the evening. It was foolish to feel safe because Arthur was beside you, and even more foolish to let Arthur stroke your hair. It'd only been for a moment. Your wife hasn't thought much of your requests for it every night since then, though her slender, soft fingers kept you awake and tense.

Mostly, you feel confused. Torn, more like; ripped apart. It's unavoidable, now, the answer to whether you like men or not. The wonder is so satiated, in fact, you're starting to fear that you used Arthur for your own exploration in a moment of callous selfishness led only by your prick.

It's soothed by the longing, and then you feel the pain of her delicacy. You're beginning to question if you like women or not. The answer is coming into focus the more you look at her, though she only thinks you missed her enough to be crazy for her.

God, does staring truly count as being crazy for someone?

How distant have I been?

How little have I known myself, all this time?

And yet remains the urge to be pleasant for her. To loosen your collar and yourself and have her draped over your arm, because you do still love her, even if only as some odd sort of close friend that lives with you and dotes on you and fixes your hair when it is windblown and looks at you when you light her cigarettes, because she's forgotten her matchbook again.

You fear, despite this love, you are using her.

There is still a certain, adoring pride you take in knowing how tightly to lace her corset, that she's absentminded but always remembers the dates of things, that she'll be happy if you lay out that food for the stray cats and make sure to feed her favorite one — that calico that looks like it's ninety years old — an extra slice of salami every time she goes to her sister's house for the weekend. Salami, always, because he doesn't like ham like the others do. She can tell if you're lying, somehow, so you always make certain to do it.

You aren't sure why she doesn't bring them inside the house. Sometimes you feel more kinship with the crowd of strays than you'd like.

It's an hour past noon when you hear the approaching of hooves from the parlor. Too spacious, with little to soak up the sound as it wafts in through an open window, cracked to let the summer breeze blow through the stuffy downstairs. Perfect timing, all things considered: you'd just finished a chapter of your Wilde collection.

While you sat the hardcover volume on the coffee table before the couch, you found it odd to hear hooves on second thought. Used to it, anymore, but unless your horse got out of the pasture again — possible, and very tiresome — your wife had not left on horseback.

Her friend's husband had driven by to take your ladies into town, which you declined because you did not care for the man and your wife didn't either. The thought of him wandering the city alone while the women shopped together was amusement of a cynical variety. She didn't want you to bicker with him, anyways, so you'd given her perhaps too much of your week's pay and a kiss on the forehead. She looked like a painting, which of course you told her, in her fine afternoon dress and those earrings her friend had made for her on her last birthday.

Sometimes you consider the very fine line you walk between comfort and wealth, and find yourself a little off-put by it. The house was a wedding gift, and much of it is empty still from your meager pay.

The foyer is rugged, though it needs a wash from the dust and dirt staining it. Door creaking, you try not to walk fast down the steps, though that changes when you see her being helped down from riding side-saddle on an unfamiliar horse by a man you don't recognize— right away. Talking, and she laughs, but it is strained and thick as though she's upset. You last heard that voice out of her when her father passed away.

"Sweetheart?" The brief worry flashes in your mind that she has found someone else; it's your guilt speaking. "What's goin' on?"

Her face appears from behind the broad shoulders, and she starts to meet you where you approach them. You wish your gun were not left in the bedroom, tucked into its holster on the nightstand, because there is something about all of this that is already twisting your gut.

What it is becomes clear soon enough. With her face in your hands, its makeup run down her cheeks and tracks of skin showing through her ruined rouge and eyeliner, you look over her shoulder at the man who's turned around. That thing coils tighter in your belly, twists into something even uglier than fear or anger: excitement.

His skin is beaten freshly red by the sun and his clothes are stained in traildust, but it is Arthur all the same. You should've known by that black hat, though it was too dark to have seen the scuff marks that would've told you from behind, or maybe by the way he stands. Missing the heat but as certain as he had stood staring down at where you were pressed to the wall.

Recognition flashes across his face, too, but he handles it with more grace. You realize she's began to speak, and afix her with all the confusion and sympathy you have.

"—chasin' me! Mister— oh, I didn't even ask your name," she's saying, looking back at Arthur.

He gives her a soft expression, as though she's a wounded animal. "Kilgore," he says. "Arthur Kilgore."

Had that been his name?

Perhaps it's his middle name, or his last. You could've sworn it was Callahan, but maybe in your overwraught mind the last month and a half has morphed it the same it's done to the visions of that evening. It wasn't entirely farfetched to think he might've lied in such a place, either.

She turns back to you, brows scrunched. "Mister Kilgore got them boys off my trail. God, I never should've left them two, they'll surely be worried to death, but I— I jus' wanted to be home, 'n' I hadn't any idea where they was by then." She sighs, shuts her eyes as if she can't bear to say it with her gaze on your face. The mahagony shadow is still painted on her lids. "Oh, I wish I would'a asked you to come with us, honey. I hate bein' alone in that godforesaken town."

Burying her face into your collar, she squeezes around your ribs tighter than you've ever felt, and you stroke her hair. "It's a'right," you soothe, rocking her. "You're home, now."

With her in your arms, Arthur standing awkwardly to the side, it feels— everything feels wrong. You find again that there is something missing from the way you hold her, and this is an awful moment to notice it.

"Well," Arthur says, settling his hands on his belt only to lift them in some gesture of that's enough for me. "I best be movin' on, now. I got���"

Your wife draws back, steps away to swing her body to face him. Her fingers clutch in your shirt's back, and then loosen, though her arm stays around you.

"You must stay for dinner," she says, palm open to him as if to display the offer. "It's the least we can offer. You might'a saved my life."

She turns to you, smiles and drops her tone the way she always does when she's sweet-talking. Her lashes are black and thick with mascara as she looks up through them. "And I don't know what you'd do without me."

For better or worse, you don't know either. You realize that is precisely the problem.

You flush, anyways.

Arthur begins to speak, eyes flicking between the two of you and your house, the stables out back. His face is unreadable, artfully so. You've never been more thankful, nor more curious as to how a man keeps his composure in a situation that's got you feeling like some part of you might implode, toe of your shoe antsily bouncing on the grass.

"I s'pose a hot meal does sound nice," he sighs, humble as ever. He takes his hat off, lays it over his chest. You look at your girl's hair instead, until he speaks, seeing him gesture with the gambler to her out of your peripherals. "Thank you, miss." Arthur finds your eyes, and you think maybe you see some of the tension you feel returned in them. There's a silent pointedness in how he returns his hat to his head instead of waving it towards you. "'N' you, o'course."

Feeling as though it's the right thing to do, you bring her closer by her bicep, sliding a hand around to squeeze comfortingly at the softness that her off-shoulder dress exposes of her arm. "Thank you, mister."

You'd insisted on helping with the cooking, and she insisted you keep Arthur company. It was your expected duty as the man of the house, but what a terrible choice it had seemed, and what a terrible choice it's coming to be.

Some young men had scared her half to death chasing her through the city street. She's alright, physically speaking. You'd been worried when she described it, but she swore she was untouched, which eased your concern only a little. Arthur affirmed as much.

You didn't and don't ask what he did to the boys. A feeling that he is more than he appears comes crawling up your neck, but you disregard it. A man who would stop and whisk your wife away from danger is not a man that you fear, let alone the way he'd treated you.

All you do is wonder if he realizes, based on the blasé expression on his face, the lives he touches. The way he's touched yours, twice now— you're uncertain on how it feels but, nonetheless, he has done it.

A man less keen on disturbing peace and quiet might have spoken up and said the man's got places to be, darling, and sent him away instead of inviting him inside. Punishment must make you feel better, you think, because that seems an even more terrible choice than allowing things to complicate themselves further in the name of your own relief.

Inside, once more. It was beginning to get easier to swallow the inklings of lust and the afterimages burned into your mind, but there is little to stave them off, now. Two weeks' worth of repression is brewing beneath the pressure of the half-dignified face you've kept sealed over top.

He apologizes for tracking dirt in while slipping off his boots, and that gentle consideration strikes you as too-familiar. Your wife laughs and says what a great idea before toeing off hers; all you can think of is jeans pooled around socked feet and smooth, exposed hip-bones. You clear your throat and lead them towards the sofa by a hand on her waist and his elbow.

How many lives has Arthur touched without knowing the burn he leaves behind? It's muggy in your throat, the want and the dismay and the horrible, no-good pleasure of being near him again.

As she disappears into the kitchen, he settles a respectable distance from you on the couch. The idea that he is not interested in any more fooling around makes you want to tear the skin off your hands, forcing yourself to settle for picking at the dirt gathered beneath your nails.

He looks out of place in the tidiness. You study him openly, and Arthur doesn't appear to mind. His eyes are wandering the paintings and scattered photographs on the walls. Fresh freckles are formed along his arms, or maybe you've merely forgotten them; his stomach has lost some of its fullness, which makes you glad dinner was offered and yet leaves you with questions; his his socks are holed against clean hardwood floor.

There's an awkwardness that lays only in how stilted both of you feel, though his own is considerably more concealed. It comes through in the air, a tightness in his spine. There's a thick blanket of oxygen between your bodies that you have no idea how to approach, although you know you shouldn't approach it at all.

"Nice home," Arthur says. His voice seems fuller indoors, warm and rough.

"Nice house," you agree. It's very unlike you to say such a thing. "Cigarette?"

Something ugly inside you wants to plead with him that you are not a cheater nor attached to him, though he didn't seem to care about either possibility with the promise of your warmth, and to lie and say you are only a heartless hedonist. By all accounts, most think the latter is better for a man to be.

Well, as long as he is a hedonist for another woman. You do not contemplate that, or else you'll truly go mad.

Arthur nods, a thanks under his breath. Your fingers fumble with the lighter once you've fished the carton from your breast pocket, almost dry and tasting bitterly of scraped up fuel when you drop the lever to ignite the end of your smoke. Patiently, he accepts the flame when you light his.

You feel terrible, but you yearn. He looks at your hand and he is gorgeous beneath brown lashes.

Oh, how you yearn. There is and there isn't— of so much. Does he understand what his presence is doing to you? He must, for how he turns his eyes up at you across the flame, easy and open and unspeaking but knowing.

"Wife's a pretty gal," he says, once he's settled back into the cushion. You can't decipher his tone, only to decide it's mere polite conversation. "Real sweet. Didn't think she'd ever stop thankin' me." He shrugs. "Jus' scattered some fools for her."

How pompous. You're delighted to hear so many words from him.

"She was scared," you say, as if you were the one who was there. Nothing else comes to you, so you reach over and slide the glass ashtray across the coffee to sit between you, flicking the end of your cigarette into it.

"Dunno what's wrong with fellers these days," Arthur says. He blinks and sighs, face suggesting it isn't just these days as he leans his elbows on his knees. You're inclined to agree, twisting at your wedding band with the cigarette tucked between your lips. "Lonesome lady mindin' her own business." He gestures with his hand, smoke trailing after it. "No reason to bother her."

Silence passes with ash dropped in tray, though not internally. The conversation settles and your mind is back ablaze, with a fresh coat of guilt-paint. God, she could've been kidnapped, and you're—

"Does it bother you?" You're murmuring, eyes set on his. They are clearer in the day, shades of green shining through their blue, set above dark undereyes. "That she's in the other room?"

Understanding crosses his face immediately. You aren't sure if it's an offer, if it's a question, if it's even something you should have spoken aloud. But that strength is there, that odd and nuturing kind that you simply don't have or comprehend, and you feel better that Arthur seems to know what you mean.

"No," he whispers. His voice is gravelly. "You?"

"Yes," you reply. It's the truth.

Despite it, you move closer; so does Arthur.

His hand finds your thigh and the touch sears so strongly you might jump from your skin the moment it leaves, his palm hot, back of his hand covered in hairs bleached blond by the sun. He must be a trailblazer of some sort. Somehow, the urge to know him dies.

It's more exciting this way. How quickly you've leapt from whatever aching, heart-bursting thing that was begging him back to you and straight towards skin-shallow lust. It is hot in your gut as he kisses you, cigarette pinched between his fingers as they trace your jaw, fall to rest on your neck. He tastes so familiar despite the distance between now and then, time and miles. The parlor fades and only the bar would exist, save for the daylight that threatens your hastily shut eyelids, so you squeeze them tighter and place your nose against his throat.

She's making dinner. The sounds of it haven't stopped, idle metal clicking and the sound of fresh-lit crackling in the fireplace. The racing of your heart is enough of a reminder, the anxiety that makes your hand twitch where it clings to the coarse fabric of Arthur's flannel shirt, nails digging in and slipping against it.

You withdraw, even though you want. There are not definite words for the desire, none at all, except maybe consumption or licking him clean down to the bones.

He is everything a man ought to be and Jesus, you want a man.

In the face of him the first time, the worst parts of this new self-discovery had fled and gave way to the goodness of it. All those terrible parts simmering inside you for so long flee again now that he is here, now that his stubble has roughed your chin and his spit dries on your lips once more. You were starting to fear they'd never leave, that the rot would grow stale in you and sour for as long as you lived.

You kiss him again to lick into his mouth, haphazard, all prowess lost in the celibacy since you had sex with him. He accepts it as openly as before, shows you another thing or two. Hot breath grows too loud and you withdraw despite yourself.

What to do now lingers.

You've broken whatever remaining restraint was keeping you sat at the other end of the sofa, and his hand is feeling at the softness of your inner thigh through your jeans. If you don't decide quickly, you'll be explaining a hard-on to your wife, and that thought sobers you.

You told him it bothers you that you are not alone, so he does not question it, despite his obvious disappointment, when you slide inches back to your original seat. Not all the way, but enough that when your wife pokes her head from the kitchen and asks what the silence is about, she suspects nothing more than that stiffness she dislikes so much.

[ash5monster01]

Learning to Love Epilogue

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: 18+, langauge, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, fake relationship, eventual smut, minor enemies to lovers trope.

Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.

word count: 3k

Part 10 ←

Masterlist

Rafe wasn’t sure what to do. Now knowing you had overheard some of his conversation he knew how bad it looked. He was prepared to fix it, thing was he needed to come up with a plan. He was tired of dancing around you, never truly saying what he actually meant. This time he was going to prove to you that he wanted you and no one else. He wanted you exactly the way you were. The only problem was how do you convince a girl she’s worth it when she’s spent her whole life thinking she’s not? So Rafe was going to take his time because he was prepared to spend the rest of his time with you. That was until Mila sent him a new text.

Mila

A wave a sickness quickly washed over him at his desk, hand tightly gripping his phone as panic slowly replaced that sickness. The idea of you on a date made him want to kill whoever the hell the guy was and he had a feeling he knew exactly who it was. Slamming his phone down he dialed the pager on his desk phone to his assistant Kaitlyn.

“Yes Mr. Cameron” she answered almost instantaneously. After all of this he needed to remember to give her a raise.

“Get me AJ, now” and Kaitlyn scrambled out an okay while Rafe tried his best not to seethe at the thought of you trying to erase him completely. It’s only ten minutes later when AJ walks through his office door.

“Kaitlyn said you needed me” the smile on her face suggests she’s assuming some kind of hookup but when she spots his angry face she realizes fairly quickly this is not the case.

“You have a Tanner that works for you down there” Rafe nods his chin down to where AJ’s marketing floor lies.

“Yeah, Tanner Mason. He’s one of my best” she says fondly of her workers and Rafe nods as he processes his thoughts.

“Yeah, well today he’s just too good. I need you to up his work load, enough paperwork he won’t be getting home until midnight tonight. I don’t even care if you have to send someone home to do it” AJ quickly furrows her eyebrows, confused at what was going on.

“I don’t understand” she says, confused why Rafe who should have no clue who this worker is, is suddenly targeting him.

“Tanner has decided to ask my girl on a date, one he thinks he’s attending tonight, I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen” AJ wears a surprised look, realizing how serious he is right now.

“Why would she even be going out with him if she’s dating you?” AJ instantly questions, looking to place blame on her but Rafe just sighs.

“She dumped me and didn’t even say why. So I’m going to get her back. Whatever means necessary” the shocked face that crossed AJ’s features doesn’t surprise Rafe, yet he doesn’t back down.

“I guess I can send Emmet home, tell Tanner he’s sick and I need a completed ad by the end of the day” AJ finally says after a beat and Rafe smiles a sly grin.

“You’re the best AJ” he says and AJ rolls her eyes as she begins to stand up.

“You’re lucky we’ve been friends so long and I’m partial to you actually being in love. Believe it or not but there was a point in time I didn’t think you were capable. It’s nice to see you care so deeply about someone” and Rafe knows she’s referring to him never reciprocating her feelings during their time together. He would feel guilty but after all of this he knows now you can’t help who you fall in love with, you’re just along for the ride.

“It feels nice” he tells her and she lets out a chuckle before heading towards the door.

“You owe me, and I want to be front row at the wedding” she tells him and the blush that crosses his cheeks surprises her.

“Anything you want” and she accepts this answer before leaving the office and towards Emmet’s. She would’ve sent him home even if Rafe gave her no reason. Everything Rafe did had a purpose.

Rafe now content with the start of his plan being set in motion glances at the picture of you on his desk. The selfie you had taken in his lap that day you were here. He knows now he’s never going to move it, loving having your smiling face looking back at him. He was determined to have you smile at him like that again so he finally responds to Mila’s text.

Mila

Rafe didn’t care that she called him out on his behavior. He used to be a very different type of insane and she should be glad that this was the only crazy thing he was willing to do these days. You had changed him for the better and he wasn’t going to lose you now. He needed it to at least be real. To know that sleeping with you made it official and not some way of using you. He wanted you the way you were forever and he was willing to go back to his old ways to make it happen.

“He’s not answering me” you groan to Mila on the couch. You had been dressed for your date for the last hour, waiting for Tanner to pick you up but so far it hadn’t been done.

“Maybe he got caught up at work, I mean you know the boss” Mila snorts out and she’s glad her acting is good enough that you can’t tell she’s internally panicking. Rafe had her delete Tanners message, one where he informed you he got stuck at work and would have his phone off the rest of the day. You’re oblivious and Mila is praying this plan doesn’t blow up in her face.

“That’s not funny” you tell her with a pout but before Mila could say anything the doorbell rang. You nervously scrambled to answer it only to be met with an older gentleman and a limo in the street behind him.

“Hello Miss, Tanner is running a bit late so he’s asked me to escort you to the restaurant. Are you all set to go?” the formality shocks you and Mila realizes fairly quickly Tanner wasn’t the one who sent this limo at all. In defense of her best friend she should stop her but even Mila knew Rafe wouldn’t have planned all of this without purpose.

“Damn, a limo! Can I tag along just to ride?” Mila asks and the chauffeur just smiles at her, told to comply with any requests.

“Could she please?” you ask the man and he nods quickly.

“Of course, what fun is a limo without guests” he says before stepping out the way and gesturing in the direction of it.

“Thank you!” you say before grabbing Mila’s hand and rushing her to the limo. You had been full blown panicking now, not having gone on a real date in ages. Now it was even more intimidating riding in a limo there.

“God, drink some champagne and chill” Mila says when she spots your nervous behavior in the back of the limo. She was already on her second glass.

“I am chill” you defend as she hands you a glass that you have down in two full gulps.

“Yeah right” she mutters as you hold out the glass, awaiting her to pour more. She obeys and doesn’t say anything more as she lets you drink in peace and sits beside you in support.

It’s not long until the limousine pulls up in front of one of the most beautiful restaurants you had ever seen. Never would you have guessed a marketing job would provide such big bucks like this, yet you don’t complain. All you do is glance at Mila who has now ditched the glass to drink champagne straight from the bottle. She smiles and gives you a thumbs up which is all the confidence you need to leave the car when the chauffeur opens the door.

“Thank you…” you trail off, realizing you don’t know his name as he releases your hand from helping you out the vehicle.

“Harold” he tells you and you smile softly.

“Thank you Harold, sorry you have to deal with her alone” you gesture back to the car with a chuckle.

“I heard that!” Mila calls from inside and Harold lightly laughs with you.

“Tanner should be here soon, just tell the hostess you have a reservation under Tanner Mason” he informs you and you nod, filled with nerves because you didn’t even know his last name was Mason until now. You suppose that’s the whole point of going on this date though, getting to know each other. So you walk into the restaurant anyways and do as told where a hostess leads you to a private booth, jazz music playing over the chatter of people, and candles lighting up the dim table.

“Sorry I’m late” a smile crosses your face before you even register that it wasn’t Tanner’s voice. Rafe notices how quickly the smile vanishes as he slides into the spot where Tanner is supposed to be.

“Why are you here?” you glare, not in any mood for a stunt of his tonight. You were moving on, trying things you never had before. You didn’t need him here and messing it up.

“Tanner got caught up at work, something about a coworker being sick and a deadline to meet by tonight” Rafe says this sentence so naturally but you know he has something to do with it. Tanner would have never planned a date let alone not contacted you about it, yet you suppose Rafe had something to do with that too.

“So what? you thought you’d just come and fill in. Take his place for the night?” you scoff, arms crossing over your chest and immediately thinking of ways to get out of this restaurant.

“Try forever. You shouldn’t be with him Y/N! You should be with me” he groans out, hands fisting the table cloth in front of you both.

“That’s never going to happen” you say with the shake of your head, trying to look anywhere but him.

“Why? We spent that night together, I thought it was finally real. That you would finally let me love you and instead you blocked me on everything!” he countered and as much as hearing that he wanted you that didn’t change fact.

“Really Rafe, me too! Which is why I came by your office as soon as I could just to hear you talking with AJ about your current sex life. How shocked she was to hear you’d sleep with me at the same time as her. Luckily I left just as I heard you start talking about not being attracted to big girls” Rafe instantly goes back to that conversation in his head, realizing AJ had used present tense when talking with him.

“I haven’t slept with AJ in over two years. I cross my heart, I haven’t even been with anyone the entirety of the time we spent together. You have to believe me” he begs, needing you to know it wasn’t true. He was desperate for you to know it was true.

“Even if that’s true Rafe, I can’t be with someone who isn’t attracted to me. I get that I’m no beauty standard and I understand my body isn’t the healthiest but I deserve to be loved for all the things that make me, me. That includes being overweight” you say, fighting the tears that burn at the back of your eyes. You didn’t want to cry over him anymore. It wasn’t worth it.

“You don’t understand Y/N, you walked away before I could finish that day. I was saying I had never been attracted to big girls before and up until now I didn’t know why. You’re so beautiful, I love everything about you. I love the way your hair always falls in your face and how when you laugh to loudly you cover your mouth with your hands. Beauty isn’t a standard, it’s just in the eye of the beholder. Anyone is beautiful when you love them and baby I love you more than you know. I love you so much that you’re the most beautiful girl in the world to me. As long as I have you, no other girl in the world matters” and the tears break free in full force, shock painting your features as Rafe’s words resonate with you. You want to believe he’s lying but what reasoning would he have? Based on his own tears in his eyes you realize that Rafe is telling you the whole truth for maybe the first time in the entirety of your relationship with him.

“You love me, exactly the way I am?” you can’t help but ask and Rafe chuckles, reaching long arms across the table to brush away your tears.

“I do, I love you more than anything and no matter what happens I always will” he says, sincerity cracking his voice and finally a smile appears on your face, chuckling through the tears.

“Well how in the hell did that happen?” you ask, the backs of your hands wiping the tears from your face while Rafe laughs at your words.

“I don’t know, guess it’s got something to do with this really cool girl I met in a bar” Rafe says and finally you stand from your side of the booth, rushing over to his own where he happily accepts you into his arms.

“You promise it’s real, everything?” you ask and Rafe smiles, a hand reaching and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“It always was” he tells you and that’s enough for you to lock your lips against his own. He kisses you like he can’t possible get enough, tongue sliding past your lips as your hands toy with his hair at the nape of his neck. He is everything you ever wanted and for the first time you deserved.

“I can’t believe you hijacked my date to get me to talk to you” you say when you finally break apart, heavy breaths falling past your lips from how deeply he was kissing you.

“I had to do something, you blocked me on everything with no explanation” he says with a bewildered look and you can’t help but laugh before pulling his lips to your own and kissing him again.

“I needed something effective to get you out of my system” you tell him and he grins, squeezing you tightly against him and in no hurry to let you go.

“You remember when we first hung out and I asked you if you had ever been in love before?” he asks you gently after a moment and you nod, softly leaning against him.

“Yeah and I told you I’d like to think I was but I wasn’t sure” you respond, remembering that day in his apartment so clearly. How much fun you had ended up having while hanging out with him.

“I only asked because I had realized I’d never been in love before, but now if someone asks me I can confidently say yes” he says with a grin and you can only giggle at the handsome boy in front of you.

“When did Rafe Cameron become such a sap?” you asked, knowing you’d seen every side of Rafe other than this.

“I’m only a sap for you so don’t go telling anyone” he tells you and for a single moment you’re the happiest you’ve ever been in the arms of the man you love. Rafe was your first and hopefully only love and you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life getting to know him even more.

“Who would’ve thought a fake date would teach me how to love someone” you say to him and Rafe grins.

“Is that you finally saying you love me back, because I definitely have you beat on confessions tonight” he teases and you laugh loudly, hand covering your mouth which Rafe removes as he grins back at you.

“I love you Rafe Cameron, bad boy persona and all” you say and he pecks a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Learning to love, who would’ve thought it’d be me” he says referring to the journey you both had been on, going from loners to two people in love with each other.

“I sure as hell didn’t” you say and Rafe smiles just as the wine he had called ahead and ordered arrived to the table.

“This wasn’t Tanners date at all was it?” you ask and Rafe only grins, not embarrassed by his actions at all.

“Nope, this is all me. He texted and cancelled while you were in the shower and I had Mila delete it” he admits and you gasp, lightly smacking his arm as he goes to set a wine glass in front of you.

“You two are devious” you say and he shrugs, arm wrapping around your shoulders as he pulls you close and sips from his glass of wine.

“Devious but successful” he tells you and you shake your head before laying it on his shoulder.

“You’re lucky I love you both” you tell him and he smiles, lips pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.

“Yeah, we definitely are”

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @fishingirl12 @houseofperfecttaste @abbybarnesstuff @carma-fanficaddict @jjmaybankisbae @exhaustedbutelated @diagnosedpsychosis @daivny @drewstarkeygf @vinniehackersbaee @emsgoodthinkin @apollo3475 @https-urwife @willowalexissss @kisstaya @hcneyedsstuff @lexiereblogs @drewsuncrustables @mveggieburger @marvel4life3000 @bibliophilewednesday @humungouspatrolwolf @ijustwanttoreadlols @jaijustreads @sleepjam @dilvcv @aaronhotchswife @sunshine1218 @lavenderhazeq @theultimatefrenchfangirl @kravitzwhore @chalahyung01 @jenniferpendragon @kitty-marie725 @dlwritings @writevanna @alenerz @h34rtsformilli @just-cuz22 @superbreadsoul

a/n: and that’s a wrap. thank you so much everyone for coming with me on this journey and I hope you fell in love with their story as much as I did. clearly Rafe and the reader have a beautiful future ahead of them, no longer lost in the world. as for you my dear and loyal readers I wish this for all of you, not only find love but learning how to 🤍

[sambhavami]

Krishna Vaasudeva - Bani Basu - 8

This is just a partial summary and the magic is all Dr. Basu's!

Additional warning: this part has an explicit scene, so judge your own comfort with respect to that. There's nothing fancy in terms of twists and turns, just Krishna marries Jamabavati in the end. If you aren't comfortable with explicit scenes, there's no need to push through, you won't miss much of the story.

Also, it contains very problematic depictions of "tribals-in-general" as well as the concept of consent, both of which I am very uncomfortable with the author's treatment here, so be wary of that as well.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The younger Vaasudeva’s face fell as he saw Balarama. Did someone insult Revati again? He is trying his level best to fix the situation, but what can he do if the other women won’t listen to him? They all love Rukmini, but that makes his position more awkward with his brother when he sees how Revati is treated in contrast. Krishna thinks to himself, the unwavering loyalty to him of the Yadavas that he had seen in the war, was that all a lie?

Did you call for me brother? What happened?

Don’t pretend you don’t know, Krishna!

Rama didn’t call him Kanu. Krishna replied, a bit annoyed, I really don’t know what you mean.

Why would you? You’ve become such a big man- Dwarikadheesh, after all!

Krishna said angrily, you know that I am not that, brother, and no one else has complained about my attitude so far!

Satrajit maybe a simple businessman, but you can’t take his possessions by force simply because you hold the power!

Krishna balked, who said I took anything from him?

He himself!

After a while, Satrajit walked through the door, trembling….I-I mean, you are the only one I showed that gem, and now I am not finding it…so…

So, you started telling people I’m a thief?!

No, I mean, you identified this gem, when I showed you, as the syamanaka diamond, right?

Yes, and?

Then, you only said to give it up to the royal coffer, and you will give me the equivalent price for it, didn’t you?

I did, but what is your point? Krishna said angrily.

And you also said, that this gem when kept under the ownership of one person, will bring great misfortune to them, didn’t you? So, I figured, for my benefit…I mean, I know you meant well…just in case, you have removed it from my custody, for everyone’s benefit…that won’t be thievery now, would it? You are like a God to us; it is only natural that you will take what you like. You have protected us from such grave dangers; can we keep anything for ourselves without accepting your ownership over it first? In fact, even if you put it on a necklace and parade it around, we commoners should have nothing to say, right? Whatever you wish to have, we must surrender unto you, don’t we, Vaasudeva?

With every word, Balarama’s face grew redder, and Krishna’s paler. Satrajit laughed in him heart. Such a big, strong man this Krishna is…and now look at him! Practically trembling, and he, a mere gold-merchant managed to humble the great Vaasudeva!

Balarama too looked at Krishna. The way he was staring at the man, there had to be some truth in what he is saying, right?

Krishna, meanwhile, was trying his best to control himself. He refused every penny offered to him Mathura, emptied all his winnings from the south into the coffers, travelled over hill and dale to find the money to build this whole city and now the same people dare accuse him of stealing a petty gem? Yeah, I guess the stories about him stealing butter had reached Dwarika, but was that enough to implicate him in this?

Controlling himself, Krishna asked, tell the truth, Mister, was there no other person who knew about the gem?

Satrajit admits, yes, his brother knew, who was supposed to move it to a safer place but recently was found dead in the forest. So, Vaasudeva, he says, weren’t you out for a hunt the same day?

You lost a brother for that gem, then? Didn’t I warn you, Satrajit?

So, that’s how greedy you are? Balarama interjected, making Krishna turn, his mouth agape. You didn’t think twice before murdering someone over this?! Krishna stared at his brother for a second before storming out, heading straight towards the forest.

It is true, that these Yadavas had saved his life, protected and educated him, and then catapulted to the top of their society, but how much more should Krishna pay, until this debt is finally paid in full? How much more insults should he bear, in the same of gratitude? And his brother?! The one who has known him since his birth, the one who has stayed with him like a shadow up until now? Who can he even trust, if Balarama too is not the person that he thought him to be?

Why is everyone so afraid of him? Did they forget about the numerous tribes who reside in these forests and who shoot poisonous arrows at any human they see? Why must Krishna always be the first one to be blamed?

Krishna found Satrajit’s brother’s body quite easily. Beside him, lay a dead lion. No! Just a man, wearing a passable costume of one. The gem was nowhere to be found. Seeing another trail of footsteps, Krishna followed that. In a cave nearby, he saw a boy playing catch with the gem!

The boy might drop and scratch it, such a waste of beauty it will be, Krishna thought, as he went and snatched it out of the child’s hand. Immediately, a man wearing a bear’s skin lunged at him. No matter how many times Krishna tried to explain, the man didn’t seem to understand his language as he kept trying to get a hold of Krishna. Sighing, Krishna started to fight back, and soon, had the man lain on his back, defeated. Soon, another man came out of the crowd and spoke in broken deva-bhasha. He explained that the man was their leader, Riksharaja.

Krishna quickly explained the story to the man, who relayed it to his king. The King now looked apologetic and said something to the man. The man turned to Krishna, Our king will return the gem, but you have to first become his friend, promise never to invade us and then marry his daughter. Otherwise, we will consider that you have insulted our tribe!

Krishna swallowed. Marry one of them?! How could he even take her back to the city? And how will the family take to her? Ignoring his protests, they brought out a dark-complexioned, strong looking woman wearing only an animal skin around her waist, and asked her for her consent.

Staring at Krishna for a second, the woman did something unthinkable. In one jump, she climbed on Krishna, her legs wrapped around his waist, and spoke in the same broken dialect, Yes, I will marry you right now, right this second! She said, using the familial ‘tu’ to address him, as she rubbed her face in the nape of his neck.

Krishna coughed a bit, owing to a smell, and then remembered with some amusement at how much time it had taken Rukmini to even be alone in the same room as him, and even then, how scared she had been, and now look at this one in contrast! Then, with some guilt he remembered, she is carrying his child as of now, and he was hit by a pang of guilt for leaving without telling her like this.

Bhadre, Krishna controlled himself, detach from me, please.

Turning to the translator he said, a bit more rudely than he was trying to be, explain to your girl that this is not how the women in our society carry themselves. I cannot marry her if she behaves in this manner.

The woman replied herself, I understand your language, you know? I’ve even seen your rules, hiding behind trees. I hate your customs! But, if I get to marry a strong, virile man like you, then I will learn your stupid rules!

Okay then, Krishna sighed, and immediately he felt like a hurricane hit him in the face. The woman had lunged at him, knocking him on to the ground tearing at his clothes.

Krishna exhaled sharply. He had never known a woman to be so forceful. Lifting her off himself with some effort he asked, don’t you ever bathe?

Why would anyone bathe? She asked incredulously, you’re wasting our time, come on, hurry up and help me…

Um, do you at least brush your teeth, then?

Yes, I do, with the small branches you get.

Okay, don’t you wear clothes other than this…skin?

Where would I get other clothes? I am not rich like your women that I’ll parade around in fancy silks! I get it, you hate me, don’t you? The woman pushed him into the ground once more and pranced away, crying.

Krishna realized with incredulity, that much as he was trying to find an excuse to escape, his body had begun to respond to her advances. He hadn’t felt the same way for a long time. The last time was in fact during one of the raasa dances back in Vrindavan. Krishan sighed, for so long he has been roaming around like a stray dog. He left his friends, family, her, everything behind for this thankless job he has now.

Krishna sighed again, his mind was clear again. He thought to himself, even if he has to fight the Riksharaja, he won’t marry his girl now. He cannot deal with a wife who would go crying to her daddy every time something didn’t go her way. But, just then, Jambavati jumped on him from some corner, knocking the wind out of him both literally and figuratively.

Finally, when she was satisfied with her due that she had taken from him, she sat beside him, dropping kiss after kiss on his cheeks and forehead. Look, now do you like me? she laughed, a twinkle in her eye.

Krishna looked at her. From somewhere she’d found some leaves and weaved them together to cover herself. Fantastic, Krishna admitted, suppressing a laugh.

I even took a bath for you, my body’s still wet, you know, she said, as water still dripped from her locks, as she pulled Krishna’s hands over her limbs and curves. See, she said, I even brushed my teeth, and wore flowers on my head for you.

Krishna smiled in spite of himself. Fine, he said, but for now you will stay here. I will send some maid to teach you our customs, and when you are ready, then I will take you to my house.

Would you remember to come back, pinky promise?

Yes, pinky promise!

After only about a year when Jambavati became the mother to a healthy little boy, only Krishna realized how that happened.

[pienpup]

The victim persona doesn't really work when you are toxic underneath and that's the impression I've been getting over the past few months, honestly. I understand why you do that, but it's a very bad habit to develop. I'm not trying to jump you or anything, I've been there too, but the martyr business is not gonna help anybody. I'm just trying to point it out so you can work on it, if you want to. If not, sorry, I guess.

hi -- normally i'd ignore these kinds of things when i'm not like, actively making jokes ab it (ur mom suck me hard and fast thru my jorts btw) but i would in fact like to say a few things about this one ^^

if you are close enough with me to reasonably make this assumption, this should be handled privately through a dm. i might still have my dms off from before, which that will be fixed if so ! i am totally open to people expressing their concerns and telling me if they believe i've done something wrong. however, this does not appear to be in good faith. if you had good intentions, nonnie, i am incredibly sorry but this only comes across as condescending and "holier than thou." the anonymity on top of it makes me feel like that is exactly how it was meant.

now, if you are not close enough with me to reasonably make this assumption, you really should be minding your own business. i am a stranger and it is not appropriate to make these kinds of claims or statements about someone you do not even know.

the people involved in the dramas i have been in are the ones who can rightfully have an opinion about me, not outsiders. furthermore, those people shouldnt even be contacting me because i have them all blocked, so hopefully thats not the case here.

i hope this isnt a friend, if it is i am going to assume they meant well and it just came across badly and i am sorry if my response is disheartening.

all that being said, i dont trust people who accuse others of having a "victim persona" or a "victim complex" or anything of the sort. in my experience, that almost always comes from aggressors who are trying to victim blame someone.

as a final note: those who are close with me know me best. i promise you my closest friends would not describe me as "toxic with a victim persona," and if i did have toxic traits they know i am actively trying to weed any of those out. i try every day to be a better person and be a nicer person. in the past i have done bad things, but that long predates this tumblr blog. the majority of toxicity people could rightfully criticize me for has long since come and went.

if you have a genuine concern, you are always welcome to approach me and tell me if you think im going to hurt someone or myself with my behavior. but please, do it off anon, do it privately, do it right.

[sangoqueenkoko]

NEUVILLETTE

final verdict

angst

MAIN MASTERLIST | HYDRO MASTERLIST

.

part 1 | part 2 (you are here!)

If both parts do well, I’ll write an alternate ending!

Summary: You were falsely accused of a horrific crime, and the verdict is announced... you do not take it well. And neither does Neuvillette. But you both have to accept the fate chosen. Set before the 4.2 archon quest.

Warnings? Inspired by the 4.2 Archon quest, so be cautious if you haven't completed it yet! This is rusty because I haven't written in so long. I am so so so so so so sorry! I'm trying my best! (L/N) means Last Name!

MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH‼️

Featuring Furina and Wriothesley!

So this was it.

You never would have guessed that your life would come to an end this early. Especially like this. When you were a young teenager, you always dreamed of finding the right person to spend the rest of your life with, having a family, travel around Teyvat. That dream stuck with you until your sentencing.

You now have no dreams. Apart from hoping to be realised as innocent before it is too late. That's what you hope for.

You were currently held in a cell by yourself with nothing to do, confined to what little space you had to roam in. You have no idea where this said cell is either.

You've asked the guards when you've had the chance, countless times to talk to the Iudex, aka Neuvillette. Because he surely must know what's going on and how to fix it. But they've ignored you every time, or just said no. You pray to Celestia whenever you can in hopes something goes in your favour.

If only you realised earlier on that that would never happen.

Meanwhile, outside of your imprisonment, Fontaine was in the midst of a storm, it has been raining on and off ever since your sentencing, there haven't been any trials since, and Neuvillette has either confined himself in his office or somewhere where no one thought to look for him, he could openly let his tears fall without being questioned.

Of all people, why you? he openly wept. What was never said during the trial was that you weren't by yourself when the crime was committed. You, in fact, were with Neuvillette himself.

The streets of the city were practically empty as it was dark out, the only sounds that could be heard were distant people closing up their shops, or animals roaming the streets, you two were taking a walk, catching up after not seeing each other for a little while as you both had other things to do.

If only they knew.

You are innocent.

Time past. The sky has been grey for a while now, and florists have had a decline in sales since the sun has been hidden behind the clouds and nothing will grow correctly or as strongly as it should.

Soon enough. The time had come.

And the whole city already knew. It was in the tabloids straight away and it was days before.

You knew that many people would see this and put it in the papers, Neuvillette and your family would see it too.

You had handcuffs on your wrist behind your back, head down as you walked, Wriothesley was walking by you, looking forward, not turning to speak or look in your general direction, he was tasked to guide you in case you were to suddenly attack for whatever reason, it was hard for him, as you have met him a few times too. He was basically turned against you, against your will.

Furina was somewhere. She had to be. She would have wanted to see this, even if it's such a sick thought, wanting to watch someone die right in front of them.

Sick.

Before you knew it, you were shackled. If you wanted to run, you couldn't.

You hadn't seen Neuvillette or heard of him recently. You wonder how he's doing, how he's doing with the news and recent events.

You heard someone talk once you were in place. But you couldn't hear nor register who it was or what they were saying.

You were in some sort of glass chamber with a set of pipes from above. People were gathered to watch. Most of the people that were gathered were the people who thought that you deserved it, they were happy about the current position you were in.

People of authority were there.

Furina, Wriothesley,...

Neuvillette.

The both of you made eye contact, he saw the tears in your eyes and the fear on your face. He just wanted to freeze time and save you, keep you safe and clear your name.

If only that was possible.

There were more lines spoken by... someone before your attention was drawn to the sounds from the pipes above you.

You really hoped for someone to run into the room and stop what was going on, proving your innocence.

But that never came.

Everything that happened next went by so fast that it made everything seem so... quiet.

The pipes burst open.

You were so scared you couldn't move or scream.

You and Neuvillette made eye contact for one last time.

The water raged through the pipes, spraying everywhere inside the chamber, engulfing you.

You felt numb. You could no longer feel anything. Physically nor emotionally.

You felt yourself begin to fade away in more ways than once.

A wave splashed over your head, Neuvillette looked away as it happened, and he closed his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

Who knows how long this storm in Fontaine will go on for.

The chamber soon drained of the seawater, and nothing was in it.

And seeing as you were from Fontaine,

you had been dissolved.

...and the people cheered. They thought the criminal had been dealt with. But only some knew the truth.

Days later.

More rain.

Neuvillette was in the middle of a trail when someone barged into the court. All eyes were on them. They were asked what their business was doing here.

They found out you were innocent.

If only they knew.

You were always innocent.

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Heey, back again with Chapter 6 :) Nothing too major goin on here, really. Nothing actually important happens until later. @itsberrydreemurstuff, @bibooby, and @laegume, I saved you all seats. (Also, @andyssilly, thought I might tag you in case you don't see this.)

Uh, before I start our little performance, I have a few lil things I'd like to say reaaal quick. The first is thaaaat... *brp bada brp brp brp boooo (that was a trumpet noise if you couldn't tell)* I have a tag for the fic now! I tagged all the chapters under the title "Where the Stars Don't Shine", so if you type it into my lil thing, it should come up! I'll probably pin a post with a the chapters linked eventually, I just keep forgetting to do it. And the second thing is slightly less important, but thought I might put it here anyways. Guys, I post polls sometimes that help me make decisions on things regarding the chapters. Nothing major, of course, just small tidbits and whatnot, but I'd really appreciate it if more people could vote on those. It's cool though, I don't mind.

Anyways, that's all for now, I guess! Soooo...

On with the show!

Word Count: 1,514

The day thankfully passes by without much issue, though truthfully you were in a daze for most of it. All you remember is the lights being unusually bright (you thought nothing of it) and a puppet show. Sun hadn’t spoken to you since your wake-up, which was a bit of a relief.

Cleaning had been a bit slower on your end. You think Sun had mentioned it at some point, though you could be mistaken. You know for a fact that he told you not to bring your pills to work on account of the kids getting access to them after you took one to ease the sharp throbbing in your head that had not let up after your nap. Strangely, you felt worse afterwards. You were sorely tempted to put in your earbuds, if only to block out that awful buzzing. You refrained, however; you really didn’t need Sun chastising you for the third time today.

You said good night, getting no response, and left. You don’t remember getting home, but you do remember trying to find something to eat in your nearly bare pantry. You found some eggs and semi-decent bread, made french toast, and passed out.

The pounding is not evaded today, either. Your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and it takes effort to keep your eyes open. You splash some water  on your face as a temporary fix, drink a bit of cough medicine to fight back your sore throat, and head to work.

You head straight for the desk, not bothering to say good morning to the animatronic in charge this time. Your bag hits the floor with a hard thunk, and you open it. You hope you thought to pack a lunch earlier, though you seriously doubt it with your frazzled state. 

Evidently, the source of the noise is actually a brick. You’re not even sure how you managed it, but it does explain why it felt so heavy to lug around. You assume it’s Moon’s work and think little else of it, placing it off to the side before Sun spots it and accuses you of vandalism or burglary or something. 

From the things you actually packed, most are your typical. Laptop, two books instead of one, earbuds, keys, your phone, and a second set of clothes. No lunch, though you weren’t expecting that one. You do find a granola bar instead, and tuck it in your pocket for safekeeping. Maybe you could eat it on the break you never used.

 You interest yourself in the books you brought. You’d already read (book) from cover to cover a dozen times over, but one more couldn’t hurt. The other was one of your additions for the children, and something you were hoping Moon would approve of as well. You hadn’t seen a copy of Brambly Hedge anywhere, but you’d love’d it when you were growing up. They’d liked the Peter Rabbit copy you’d put in, so with any luck, this one would garner a similar reaction.

You remind yourself to bring something for your coworker some other time. Moon may be a prick, but he seemed to get pretty bored when the children fell asleep. Perhaps something to keep him occupied would help, and maybe even get him off your back when the lights cut. What kind of books would he like, though? He’d stolen one of your Sherlock Holmes novels in your first month of work, and you’d caught him peeking over your shoulder on several different occasions when you’d brought your gothic horrors and dystopians, which also tended to mysteriously disappear. You couldn’t just walk up to him and ask, though. Asking either of them for something hardly ever went well.

You brush off the thought and remind yourself to actually request some funding for an idea you’d gotten some time back. The Daycare, action packed and entertaining as it was, didn’t really have much reading material outside of little kiddie books featuring corporate’s mascots, and while you weren’t opposed to donating your old children’s books, some newer ones would probably be more appealing. You’d noticed that Moon also seemed to enjoy the greater variety. He tended to gravitate towards classics and fables for naptime, though you made sure to only plant a few at a time do as not to arouse suspicion. You were pretty sure they thought it was the higher-ups’ doing, and you weren’t going to be the one to correct them. 

You whip around, scanning the Daycare for any sign of the animatronic before taking off with the book in hand, shelving it among the other books you’d brought. You walk back to the desk, feeling almost proud of yourself, until a voice pipes up behind you. “Friieeend, what are you dooing?” 

For the record, despite what the security cameras captured, you did not screech and trip over nothing. 

You flip over and jump back up onto your feet, hastily responding to fend off any conclusion he’d make about this. “Who’s doing something? Me? No, I’m not doing anything, nothing at all.”

Yeah, that didn’t sound suspicious at aaaall, nice going.

Sun’s faceplate turns, static grin growing wider with each click. “Reeeally now? Because it seems to me like you were trying to sneak something from the shelf.”

Great. Now he thinks you’re a thief.

You shake your head frantically, crossing your arms to further prove a point. “No, no I’m not, promise.” Yeah, that’ll help, Y/N, way to seem like a criminal.

His face reverts to its normal position, and you think you’re in the clear (until) he speaks up again. “Glad to be wrong then! Still, I think I’d rather be safe than sorry. You wouldn’t mind if I checked, would you?”

This smug little- You shoot him a strained smile and a thumbs-up that does not display your panic in any way. “Nnnnnnope, go right ahead!”

His own smile stretches. He stoops down to your height and surveys the shelf, default smile forming an unreadable expression that you’re not sure you want to uncover the meaning of. He speaks after a few moments. “This wasn’t here earlier.” He taps the spine of the newly added Brambly Hedge on the shelf for emphasis.

You swallow, arms locked at your sides. You question whether you’d prefer him accusing you of thievery or stupidity. 

He pulls it out and flips through the pages, gaze snapping back to you quizzically.

“How did it get here?” He muses out loud, putting you on the spot with a look that makes you freeze.

Your brain races to find an acceptable response other than the actual truth, and lying will only get you in more trouble. 

You pause. Moon can’t know. 

“Is Moon listening?” you probe.

He pauses, rays doing a half-spin before he responds, “Not at the moment.”

You seriously doubt that, but it’ll have to do. 

You’re so screwed. 

You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, rushing what you want to say at speeds that leave your lungs gasping as you stumble over your words. “I noticed the older kidsandsometimesMoon get bored so I thought I could bring some booksforthemfromhome but I haven’t asked management forper-permissionyetIwasgonnadothatintoday’sreportsorryandthekidsreallylikedperterrabbitsoithoughtmaybethey’dlikethisonetoopleasedon’ttellmoonormanagementIcan’tlosethisjob.” 

Your eyes are tightly screwed shut by the end of your tirade, hands clenched into fists. You peek an eye open to find Sun not in front of you, but on the other side of the room.

Yep, you are so dead when naptime rolls around.

—---------------------------------

Sun was at a sort of standstill with this new information. You were the one responsible for those books mysteriously piling up on their shelves, out of your own pocket, and you hadn’t thought to ask management? 

He hadn’t been lying when he told you Moon was absent: his brother was never active when Sun was out, preferring to stay offline unless called upon. 

He should tell Moon. This was probably something he’d want to know, something that could possibly get you fired. 

He paused. Would it get you fired? On one hand, you were required to report everything, including any changes you requested. On the other, you were the one paying for said changes, which meant the company didn’t have to do it themselves. If anything, they’d probably just issue you off with a warning and make you pay for everything.

Besides, while the Daycare was practically perfect in his humble opinion, he did have to admit he appreciated the new additions, and he wasn’t going to refuse the benefits, even if they were from you. 

Sun had a feeling his brother wouldn’t agree.

Another lightbulb flickered on in his head. You’d bought the books. He wondered what else you’d brought under the guise of management. 

He sighed, conflicted. You were right, the kids did like Peter Rabbit, along with every other book you’d brought in.

He supposed he could keep this little revelation to himself. Not for you, he reasoned, but for the kids. And speaking of the kids, a handful of them were already entering through the doors now, signaling the start of the day.

-------------

Aaaaand that's a wrap! Hope that was up to standard :) Y/N seems to be getting a little worse, hehehe...and I suuure hope Moon doesn't find out about all this, that would make for an interesting confrontation...But yeah, the Assistant's basically been funding most of the stuff for the Daycare at this point. They buy groceries when Management forgets to, restocks for emergency supplies and cleaning stuff, and buys new things for the kids sometimes.

[pommunist]

Yes, it's the same penguin anon from earlier haha (obviously signing anonymous asks doesn't really mean anything because anyone could use the same signature, but I don't know why anyone would bother. I just did it so if i ever need to refer to a previous ask it's gonna be way easier)

Anyway, something I keep coming back to is how while I obviously don't know anything about Q's thought process, the fact that his immediate reaction seemed to be to treat his lower level workers as if they were enemy spies (whether it was intentional or not! That's just how it came off!) is just a good example of how not to be a good leader and how not to de-escalate

That's where this all really went wrong for him, right? Sure, the whole thing becoming public was the inciting incident for the controversy, but it could still have been salvaged at that point because Q himself wasn't being accused of anything and public opinion was still largely positive towards him. They could have negotiated a solution, or at least a path to a solution, or at least agreed to negotiate at a later date after he'd had a chance to seek legal counsel if he wanted to be extra careful

I guess it might be too late now so it's kinda pointless to talk about it, but maybe pointing this out will help someone else avoid the same mistake in the future

If you treat someone like an enemy, they're more likely to become hostile, and if you treat someone like a spy, they're gonna get more determined to find out what you're hiding

(Obviously that doesn't justify the other side crossing the line and escalating further, but it shouldn't come as a surprise either, especially if it's the only thing you ever respond to)

- 🐧

Well that worked bc I recognised you hehe ! I also find it super cute that people sign with their favorite emoji I should start doing that 🧐

Thinking about the alternate universe in which, after Q’s first stream about it, he and the admins in charge would have contacted the victims, listened to their demands and solved things amicably. Would’ve been way better for the admins, Qstudios and the server as well but, alas 🥲

I mean there’s still a chance for them to do so, if legal procedures haven’t started (and in case of french law, even if they have, cause legal process would start with negotiations) but who is to say they’re gonna take it now.

And about seeing the victims as enemies yeah…. We have to remember that while we talk about how some things can be difficult to say because of legalities, at some point you have to ask yourself what the priority between genuinely wanting to fix your wrongs and trying to avoid a lawsuit at all cost. And of course tensions are gonna rise when you treat your victims as if they were haters coming for your project instead of trying to mend the bridge between you and them 😵‍💫😵‍💫

(Btw whenever I talk about legal issues its always in the context of admins vs Qstudios and never about Q vs that one higher up who allegedly is the root of all problems)

[abysskeeper]

"Small ideas" I tell myself. Needed to get something out of my system, so have an atheistic wizard/cleric and a former God's Chosen two wizards duking it out and making out about godhood and relationship insecurities. Spoilers for Act 3...it happens sometime early there I guess.

While I love Fiona and Wyll dearly, Nox'ani is my second Tav playthrough and she and Gale are just...something else. This is rough and messy, but maybe I'll clean it up in full one day soonish. I just gotta get the writing flowing again.

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

The moment he set his eyes on it, Nox should’ve known it would come to this. Well, perhaps that was a touch unfair to expect from herself. She was more concerned with everything else going on in the chamber to have noticed or really considered what the Crown was at the time. So really, the moment Gale sat her down and explained to her what it was and what he hoped to accomplish with it, she should have known it would come to this.

“Alright…let us imagine you manage to acquire the Crown. What then, hm?” Nox asked, crossing her arms against the chill of the nighttime breeze that swept through the glade they found themselves in. That would be her excuse in any case, though she knew it was a common gesture she performed against her own, rising frustrations.

“You wish to battle with Mystra?” she pressed, and then rolled her eyes with a derisive snort, “As if we have no idea how that would go. This is the goddess’s third incarnation, and Toril has tired to tear itself apart each time she died. Even if you won against her, there is no telling how the Weave would react, nor no telling how Toril would react to the Karsite Weave if it came to it. Or—”

Her face fell as the darker thought crossed her mind. It was one she had no desire to entertain, one she knew logically made no sense in the grander scheme they were painting, but then much of Gale’s remaining feelings regarding Mystra likely defied logic. Understandably so, all things considered. “—Or do you still wish to return it to her? To return to her? Do you wish to kowtow to her again in hopes she will finally see your worth and return you to her side?”

For his part, Gale had afforded her neutrality and respect as she spoke against his desires. His face quickly soured at this accusation though, his eyes narrowed and his mouth pulled into a frown. “You are more than aware that is as unfair as it is untrue,” he refuted curtly.

“Fine,” she agreed quickly, because she was aware that it was unfair to ask, and she figured it was untrue by now. As she knew, logically it made sense, but a part of her still doubted. Likely, a part of her would always doubt whether he was truly over Mystra. A part of her would always doubt she was enough to sideline a goddess. But that was her burden to bear and it was her insecurity to trouble over and puzzle out, not his. Especially not now.

“That still does not answer any of my prior questions,” she pointed out quietly.

“Your prior questions…” Gale trailed off and let out a heavy sigh, “Your prior questions are worthy of consideration, undeniably, but they are still hypothetical—and they are hypothetical because you are correct. We do not know how Toril would react, it could be as you expect, or it could be as I expect. Or it could be anywhere in between, and that is part of the risk,” he acquiesced. His eyes fixed on her, imploring her to understand, “But is it not worth the risk, Nox? All it would take is but a moment, and then I…and then we…”

“And what of we?!”

She grimaced as she interrupted him and he stopped, stepping back in surprise at her outburst. But was it really so unexpected? This was the second time he had slipped in his explanations, the second time he had put himself first and considered her and them together second. It was unintentional, she would allow him that grace because she knew it. It was born from years of fending only for himself, of having to only consider himself and what he needed. It was born of relying solely on himself, and knowing he would be the one to complete this plan of his. She knew it was no slight against her, but it still bore questioning because she worried it was the crux of the issue.

Selfishly, it was the crux of her issues. Frightfully, she worried it was the driving force behind his decisions. What of them together?

“Then what of us?!” Nox demanded, and she could feel her throat starting to burn, “What of me?!” Her feet carried her back a step of their own accord, and she looked up at him with hot, blurry eyes. “Or do you not realize this is a plan for one? What would you wish of me when I am no longer able to stand at your side as an equal?” she demanded. “Would you have me kneel at your feet as a subordinate? Is that what you desire?”

Her jaw clenched at the very thought, but to prove her point she slowly lowered herself to her knees before him and then bowed her head as if in prayer. She felt a tremble pass through her—frustrated, yes, but also enraged…fully aware of just how many times she had held this exact position to no avail—before she ground out, “Is a worshipper what you seek? A single soul to praise the Great Lord of Magic?”

She needn’t look up to feel the shift in the air around them, the weight of anger extinguishing like the flame on a wick being snuffed and transforming into something altogether…different. Slowly, she raised her head and met his stare with her own. His brown eyes were dark, nearly black, and the charge that surged through their locked gazes made her mouth run dry as the rest of her words died on her tongue. The thought struck her, briefly, that if he wanted her on her knees all he had to do was ask…which was a surprising revelation in itself because a month ago that wasn’t the case.

Though a month ago, Nox supposed, she had yet to admit she had fallen for this frustratingly incredible wizard who refused to see the worth he contained in his own, mortal self.

Not that it mattered either, because that wasn’t what this was. It wasn’t just what this was, anyways. A desire sparked in his dark eyes, the kind she still had trouble recognizing and accepting being directed at her, but it was also nothing in comparison to the flare of concern shining there. It was a burning sympathy, a warm, aching understanding of what she had been through, and if she were honest, she should have expected nothing less. They hadn’t suffered in exactly the same ways, but they ran parallel to one another. He had no need to use words, nor to even use the connection of their tadpoles. The very question—the very recognition she just made towards the act of kneeling pulsed through the Weave that surrounded them, the magic they delighted in sharing with one another.

How many times?

The urge to turn away, to avert herself from his knowing stare and the vulnerability it caused, disintegrated the moment Gale started moving towards her. Nox stilled completely, her breath catching in her throat as he lowered himself onto one knee beside her and placed his hands on her arms. Gently, he assisted her back up to her feet and lightly caressed up and down her arms a few times before he refused to waste another moment. A warm hand cupped her cheek, and he leaned forward to press a sweet kiss to her mouth.

Any lingering negativity twisting in her gut vanished as she sighed into him. He took the opportunity, his hand sliding back to tangle in her hair and his tongue tracing over her lips in wordless question. Nox answered immediately, a small moan escaping her while her hands came up to grasp at the fabric of his shirt. Gale wrapped his free arms round her waist and pulled her closer, eagerly deepening the kiss…and she was gone. She melted into him, her legs nearly giving way while he explored her mouth and snuck his hand under the hem of her tunic to lightly trace down her spine.

It was easy to get lost in him, especially in these moments. No matter how passionate or sweet the kiss, his were always tinged with an almost desperate devotion, a burning, devouring need for her to see, to feel, to know just how far he would go for her. And no matter how insignificant or insecure she felt, no matter how exhausted she was or how hard she questioned herself…it always worked.

His adoration was unquestionable, occasionally she simply needed a reminder.

The need for air finally broke them apart, but he barely moved away from her. Still cradling the back of her head, his forehead rested on hers, his lips only a hair’s breadth away from her own. “I would have answered you in Elturel,” he spoke into the infinitesimal space between them, voice low and rough with laden emotion.

Before she could even consider his admittance, Gale kissed her again. She felt the weight of the words he just spoke still hanging heavily on his lips as they brushed over hers. “I would have answered you in Avernus,” he continued, speaking the words against her. His voice was still a low hum, rough and weighted and hushed as if he was speaking world-shattering secrets only she was to know.

Perhaps, in a way, he was.

Finally, Nox opened her eyes to look up at him, her surprise and wonder met with the most smoldering sincerity. “I would have answered you every time you asked during your travels of Candlekeep and Waterdeep and Baldur’s Gate,” he said, “I would have ensured you knew I was always at your side with every step you took. I would have ensured you never, never felt the need to question your own worth. I would have venerated you—”

His hand moved forward, cupping her cheek again, as a soft, adoring smile slipped onto his face and warmth pooled into his eyes. “—And when the time came…when the time may still come, I would make you my equal, you have never been anything less,” Gale decided easily, as if he was discussing meal options and not apotheosis. “We would stand side by side as we reshaped all that we know, all that we love, into something worthy of its potential,” he added, “We would finally make things better for mortals—for those who know our struggles intimately well.”

Nox let out a low, long breath, and she leaned forward to rest her head against his chest. Her eyes slowly closed again as she listened to the steady thrum of his heart beating and felt the mystical buzz of the Orb—the Karsite Weave—against her cheek, and truly considered his words. It was not a difficult task, given how many of her own words were entangled in the spaces of all he said and all he meant. How many times had she lamented the Gods’ obvious lack of care to much of mortal suffering during their journey? How many times had she besmirched the Gods for withholding their divine power from man? How many times had she claimed mortals would be better off without the divine?

And yet…the worst part was knowing that it was possible. Claiming the crown from the Absolute and reshaping the world into something they believed in would not be simple tasks by any means, but they were not impossible feats. In fact, they were hurtling towards both options being well within their grasps. But…she was not so sure it was a goal she desired anymore.

She was not so sure it was ever a goal she desired to begin with.

Attaining godhood had never been the option she considered when lodging her complaints. If anything, she wanted to see mortals free from the divine, not grasp the power herself. And now…she still had questions. She still took issue regarding many things, but Moonrise forced much of her perspective to shift. Hearing Selûne’s call again, watching Shadowheart turn away from all she knew in pursuit of something better with another deity, meeting Dame Aylin and witnessing what divine power…divine justice could do for a land so plagued by malice for so long…it complicated matters considerably. If nothing else, it altered her thoughts drastically and left her with an even more complex web to untangle in her mind regarding her emotions towards divinity.

That, however, was not necessarily the facet she needed to address. Not now at least…not yet. She still had time to weave her way through her tangled thoughts when there was another, far easier matter—far easier for her, at least—to discuss first. It was something she only understood recently they both struggled deeply with, how they both found that clawing insecurity lodged in their hearts when faced with each other, but now that she knew it existed in him just as readily as her, it was easy for her to read between the lines of how he spoke to her. How he spoke about her and all he wished he could do for her.

All things considered, it was really rather ironic.

“And I know you would have done all of that for me had you been around, regardless of godhood,” Nox finally murmured into his chest, “In spite of it, even.”

She paused, letting her words hang around them and waiting to see if he would respond to her. When he did not, she shifted enough to peer one eye up at him. The smile was gone from his face, but Gale was still watching her with an aching tenderness and now with an added look of curiosity.

“I have been…wondering, of late,” she admitted quietly, spurred on by his inquisitive gaze, “…I would swear apotheosis lays claim to what little may remain of a mortal before being deified. The Gods may wield their divine power, and I have lamented more than enough about all they keep from us, but I have often failed to consider what we have in their place.”

She cast her eyes downward as she considered and continued her thought, “There may be hundreds of worlds out there, but even the one at our fingertips is vast in its beauty. We are vast and beautiful in our capacity. We know and experience more than the divine could ever conceive. We are the ones who dream, who believe, who stop and wonder at the world around us. Hells, even our faith in the divine is something precious and beautiful they will never experience.”

Nox paused, smiling to herself as a blush tinted her pale cheeks. “And most importantly, what I have discovered most recently, is that we love.” She pulled away from him, just enough to view him and his shining eyes clearly. After a moment, she reached up with one hand to press it against his cheek. “All of that to say, I don’t need a god, Gale. I’ve never needed a god,” she whispered, “All I need is you.”

Her fingers settled over the veins curling up his cheek and delicately started tracing down the path towards the Orb in his chest. She pushed the cloth collar of his shirt out of the way and traced over the ring of the Orb itself before her hand settled, the tips of her fingers over the Karsite Weave and her palm over his heart. “I need the mortal man in front of me,” she confessed breathlessly, “The one with passion in his veins and devotion in his heart.”

Gale released a shuddering sigh, his eyes closing for a moment before one of his hands came up to rest over her own against his heart. “I could give you worlds, and you tell me this is enough,” he sighed, “You grace me with such words, such brilliant, exceptional joys…and most days, the mortal man before you does not feel worthy of you,” he admitted.

His tone was joking, his voice light and the small smile he gave her was playful, but she could see the lingering sadness masked in his eyes. The concern and the doubt he wasn’t enough, the fear that it would one day drive her away like it had before. They were surely the same emotions he had seen so readily reflected in her gaze countless times before. The same ones he assuaged with gentle reminders and light kisses.

She could return those easily.

“Then he needs to stop concerning himself with matters that are not his decide,” Nox said, her voice teasing to match his tone, but every word carrying nothing but sincerity. Her free hand snaked around his neck and she pulled him down for another kiss. His surprised breath fanned over her lips, and she smiled against him for a few moments before she pulled away.

“I alone determine what I am worth,” she breathed, “And I have decided that you, my dear Wizard of Waterdeep, are more than what even my wildest fantasies could ever bring to me, and are thus worth more than every last bit I could possibly give.”

She caught a flash of his beaming grin just before Gale wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, burying his face in her hair and murmuring, “And how I will wonder for the rest of my mortal time why fate decided to grant me such fortune.”

[sashaisready]

Chapter Twelve

Lee Bodecker (The Devil All The Time) x Femme Reader

A year after the sudden death of your husband you find yourself at a loose end, unsure what to do next. You're also learning about your sexuality - your hidden desires and fantasies creeping out now you're no longer playing the role of the good wife. A certain Sheriff in town could be the one to awaken something in you.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 13

Warnings: smut, references to sexual assault/murder, rough sexual activity, drinking

Back at home that evening, Lee was exhausted as you fixed him a plate for dinner. He’d confirmed it was Davey as suspected, another deputy had identified the body as they didn’t want his wife to see him like this. It was a grisly sight, apparently. It had been a few weeks and he'd been in the water the whole time. But she had insisted. 

Of course it had been horrible, a doctor had to give her a sedative to calm down and she was being kept in hospital overnight so they could check up on her. The press were sniffing around, the town were baying for blood now that there was a cop killer on the streets, and everyone was looking to Lee to find the answers.

He took another gulp of whiskey and you stared him down from across the table. He'd had nearly half the bottle already.

“What?” he asked. “I earned this today” he said, slamming the bottle onto the table. You could see he was slightly intoxicated.

Your eyes hardened.

“Did you do it, Lee?” you asked him calmly.

Lee met your gaze, sneering as he took a mouthful of food. “What?”

“You know what” you fired back.

You stared at each other for what seemed like hours. Lee sat back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“What exactly are you accusing me of?” he asked sternly. “I’d tread careful if I were you”.

“Just funny timing isn’t it?”

“What is?” he replied, not giving anything away.

“I tell you what Davey did, and that very night is the last time anyone sees him alive. He’s shot in the head in the middle of nowhere, no reason to be out there. Didn’t even fire his gun or try defend himself”.

Lee wouldn’t drop his gaze. You’re not even sure he was blinking anymore. His mouth curled into a snarl and he took another sip of whiskey.

“Yeah. That is funny” he countered, his tone defiant.

“See I’ve been thinking about it” you said casually, getting up from your chair and pulling it forward so it was right by him, then sitting down again. “Davey must’ve been meeting someone out there at that time of night. Wherever he was, exactly. He isn’t gonna be wandering around the creek or river for no reason is he?”

“I guess not” said Lee, deadpan.

“Exactly. But then, if he was meeting a pimp, or some bad guy he was caught up in a nefarious deal with, he’d have his gun drawn and ready wouldn’t he? Just in case, I mean. The police are trained to be ready, right?"

“Sure, but you can always be caught off guard” shrugged Lee.

“Of course. Or maybe…here’s an idea. He was meeting someone he knew, someone he trusted. That’s why he didn’t have his gun ready, because he never thought he needed it”.

You leaned up close to Lee’s face, inches from him now, adrenaline coursing through you.

“Maybe someone who had just found out he’d done something terrible. Someone who lured him out to the creek and shot him. Even if that someone had never been asked to do that”.

Lee’s nostrils flared as he clenched his jaw. He smiled at you. The smile chilled your bones.

“Maybe”, he said, the rage barely concealed. “…Maybe that someone was helpin’ someone else out. Maybe that someone else should be grateful it was fixed for her, so that she never had to worry about Davey again”.

You slapped hard Lee across the face, enraged. Before the realisation of what you’d done sunk in, you went to hit him again. He caught your arm this time, his fingers pressing tightly into your flesh. You shook him off.

“I would think very carefully about your next move” he warned, his eyes dark.

“How dare you!” you shouted, pointing a finger in his face. “I never asked for this!! I never wanted this! You’re a murderer!” Your words were laced with venom, practically spitting at him.

“You should be thankin’ me” Lee snapped, squaring up to you. “I got rid of him for you. You didn’t want to face him in town, did you? Seein’ his face every day? You didn’t wanna go to trial and have them drag you through the mud goin’ through every detail, did ya? I’ve seen those trials. I’ve been in those trials. The girls rarely win, sweetheart. Life ain't fair that way. This way, my way, justice was served”.

You were breathing heavily now, trembling.

“You KILLED him, Lee. You’re a cop!! The SHERIFF for god’s sakes! What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about YOU” he yelled. “About what he did to you. How he hurt you. How he turned you into a nervous wreck. How he turned sex, which you love, into this awful fuckin’ trauma for you!” he looked deeply into your face. “You know what? I’d do it again”.

Tears stung in your eyes. “You’re a murderer” you whispered.

“I killed a rapist” he barked. “Even if he hadn’t done it before you, and I’m sure he probably had 'cos he was cocky, he would’ve done it again. And he would walk free every single time”.

The worst part was, you knew he was right. But you were horrified. Disgusted by his actions. Devastated that he would use your agony as a weapon and an excuse for violence. This version of Lee was so at odds with the soft, gentle man who washed your hair for you that first week because your arms and shoulders were so bruised and painful that you could barely lift them.

“What about Julie?” you asked through gritted teeth.

He softened slightly. “That is my only regret. But she’s still young. She’ll meet someone else and be okay. And the police pension and life insurance policy is decent, so she’ll be alright”.

“I never wanted this” you exclaimed.

“I know” he sighed. “And you were never meant to know. But you turned out to be a pretty good lil’ detective. Once again, I underestimated you” he chuckled.

“How can you make jokes at a time like this?” you scolded.

He shrugged. “Like I said. He was a rapist. And he hurt my girl” he was deadpan, no emotion in his voice.

“And how are you so confident I’m not gonna tell everyone about this? O-or tell the police in the nearby towns? Or the feds?” you ask, your slightly wobbly voice betraying your nerves.

Lee sighed, a small smile breaking out on his face. “Because” he told you calmly, leaning closer to you. “Despite how angry you are right now. And I get it, it’s reasonable” he leant over to your ear, “I know you love me. And I know you, and deep down, you are delighted that I did this for you”.

You gasped. You feel real hatred, pure contempt for him in this moment. Every bad feeling you had about him, every gut instinct you had from those early days after the Event, you were right. He was bad.

And yet.

Deep down, in a tiny recess of your brain. There was something. Something unexplainable. Something primal and desperate. Where you believed he had fixed it for you. He had removed the problem. He had saved you from a trial, and an inevitable legal loss, and eventual reputation as a liar trying to smear a good man. He had saved you from a potential lifetime of seeing your rapist on the streets, in church, smiling at you and mocking you. You were glad he was dead.

And Lee was right. You did love him. You hadn’t told him, but you did. And he knew it.

You’d never felt as confused as you had in that moment. You hated him so desperately, you were horrified by what he’d done. But you were also grateful. You felt protected, avenged. He did it for his girl.

You glared at him. And then you watched his chest heaving, the tension across his face, the fire in his eyes. The thick tension between the both of you. You were transported back to the cruiser with him on that fateful day, handcuffed and furious. 

It was as if something snapped within you.

Suddenly you were on top of him on the kitchen table. Your tongue was in his mouth and you were clawing at his shirt, ripping off a few buttons as it came undone. He kissed you back and tried to wrestle his hands around your face but you pried them off. You began tearing at his belt and threw his trousers and underwear down to his ankles. You scrambled desperately to move your panties aside and clumsily sat down on his hard length, your hand fumbling to guide him into your entrance. It was sloppy, ungainly. You moaned as you felt him bottom out inside of you and you heard him groan too. It had been a few weeks since you’d had sex and it stung, but in a satisfying way. You began to wildly thrust on top of him, throwing your head back and riding him roughly.

You were amazed the table was supporting your combined weight but it somehow did. The legs crashed loudly against the kitchen tiles with each thrust and at one point you heard Lee’s whiskey bottle fall off and smash below but neither of you were bothered. You were too far gone, feral, animalistic. You knew the angle and sheer force would mean the table was agony on his back but you didn’t care. Neither did he, by the sound of his pathetic whines.

“How fucking dare you” you sneered as you bucked ruthlessly. “How fucking dare you do that in my name” you told him between heavy breaths.

He tried to respond but you covered his mouth with your hand. “No. Shut up. I don’t want to hear it”.

His eyes widened, framed by your fingers as they peeked over your hand. You could see he was in ecstasy. You both hated him and loved him at that second in time, but mainly you were furious.

“You just wanted to show him who I belong to, didn’t you?” you scolded. “I bet you got off on it. Showing him who’s boss. Telling him that I only fuck you and nobody else. That only you get my pussy”.

Lee’s eyes were hooded and low now and you knew he was close. You knew his body and cues well enough by now.

“Oh no you don’t” you mocked.

You removed your hand and pulled yourself off of him. He moaned pathetically at the loss as his cock slapped harshly back against his belly. You shimmied along his torso, the slick from your folds leaving a trail from his tummy to his chest. Before he had a chance to react you planted yourself onto his face with your full weight, your pussy hard against his mouth and your thighs tight over his ears. You began to gyrate as he lapped you up greedily.

“You’re not getting up until I’ve come all over your face. So get to work” you demanded.

He obliged, his tongue unleashed. You were seeing stars already. You’d never sat on a man’s face like this and the angle and control meant the feeling was otherworldly. You were also aroused by the sheer decadence of it, being in total control, you had complete power over him – and how uncomfortable he must be. You thought about him roughly taking your mouth that first day in the woods, tickled by the symmetry of then and now, but with the roles reversed.

He was grabbing at your buttocks, his hands frenzied.

“You did it for me, didn’t you?” you gasped between whimpers. Somewhere beneath your legs you could hear Lee’s muffled moans.

“He didn’t stand a chance, did he?” you mewled as you ground down against him. He gripped your thighs tighter and tighter, his nails digging into you.

“My Sheriff is the law, and he got justice for me”.

You didn’t even know what you were saying at this point, but Lee must’ve liked it as he was squirming beneath you, desperately reaching for his cock but you batted his hands away. He didn’t deserve it.

You had never taken control quite like this with him before. Of course you’d been on top, you’d been forceful, but never like this. You hated Lee and wanted to punish him. Hurt him. Wanted to prove to him that you weren’t a meek princess in a tower he needed to play knight for. But you also wanted him. You hadn’t had sex in weeks, not since all that happened, and you needed release. You were using Lee like a sex aid rather than a partner. A glorified masturbation session.

You needed to reframe sex in your mind as pleasurable and something you wanted, that you controlled.

And you certainly did.

Your climax finally boomed from inside you and you very nearly passed out. It hit you like a ton of bricks, every nerve ending jolting and surging as you writhed on top of Lee. Your moan was deep, guttural, it didn’t even sound like it came from you. Your hips stuttered as you neared the end and the aftershocks faded.

You slid off Lee, although you were surprised you even had the strength to. Your legs quivered as you inelegantly moved off the table, pulling your dress back down and sitting back down in a kitchen chair, panting.

You looked back at Lee who was a mess on the table. His face was drenched in your moisture and his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. You noticed he’d finished too, his spend messily dripping over his tummy and thighs. Through your haze you were impressed that you’d manage to make him come when you hadn’t even touched him.

Lee was a wreck, his back completely demolished by the unforgiving wood of the table. But God, what a rush. He had always thought he liked to be in control but you had proved him wrong. He had been so aroused by your forceful actions and dirty talk that he’d blown his load without either of you even laying a finger on his cock.

He sat up slowly, his hand cradling his aching back.

“That was…”

But you cut him off, launching a wet dishrag at his chest.

“Clean yourself up, Lee. We’re done” you told him.

[momentokori]

Storm in a field of flowers. Pt. 2 previous part---next part

“WHAT?! Why do I have to walk up the hill?” Rai complained. “It was your idea and my legs hurt. If he has candy, yell down and I'll meet you. If not, you can roll down the hill or something.” Elaine stated sarcastically. “Are you saying that because I'm fat?!” Rai jokingly accused. “Yup!” Elaine answered. Holding back laughter. Rai rolled her eyes and began to walk up the hill. She had put her earbuds in. It was only a three minute walk, but she liked the music. When she got up to the church she took them out. She hesitantly knocked on the door. Fixing the sleeves to her costume as she waited. Humming a song. The door swung open. A man was holding a pot of boiling water. He looked like he was about to throw it at her, but stopped. She was noticeably younger than other trick or treaters. “What are you doing here? You should be at a house party.” He assumed. “So sorry to bother, my friend was curious and wanted to know if you were giving out candy?” Her nervousness made him put down the pot slowly. “I'm not. I refuse to participate in the devil's holiday.” He turned his head. “Oh, my apologies then. I'll leave you be-” she stopped, jumping when she heard Elaine yelling at her from the bottom of the hill. He looked annoyed. “Your friend I assume?” “Yes, sorry about her.” Rai answered. She sounded extremely awkward. He almost felt pity.

She then turned around and began to say goodbye, but he stopped her. “Wait, I have a question. Why are you out? Normally kids your age are drinking and smoking at a house party.” She slowly turned back around. “Oh no no..i can't. Me and my friend would rather goof off and dress up. I don't care about the candy that much. I just like hanging out with her.” the man nodded and held out a hand. “I'm new in town. I'm the priest of the church. My name is Father Gregor.” She very hesitantly shook his hand. “I'm Raelynn. Normally people call me Rai.” She introduced me. “My friend down there is Elaine. Sometimes I call her Ei.” “Ei? Like the letter? That's..odd.” he asked himself. “I just wanted a nickname for her. I don't call her that often though..” she giggled at the thought. “Will I be seeing you at church ever?” He asked. Almost hoping to see her. “Probably not. I mean, my family believes I think? I'm not sure..it's a little confusing.” She sounded embarrassed. “I see. Well it isn't for everyone. I'm not disappointed in you or anything if that's what you're thinking.” He could see the nervousness on her face. She now had a wide smile. Then she said her goodbyes and left. Yelling at her friend down the hill. He watched her as she walked. Almost watching her to make sure she was safe.

When Rai made it back down the hill Elaine stared with her arms crossed. “What took so long?” Rai still had her smile, “Oh! The guy that was up there-” “Did he have candy?” Elaine interrupted. Rai gave her a look and just stared quietly for a moment. “No..he didn't. He's a priest I guess. Doesn't celebrate.” Rai answered as she put her earbuds back in the case and in her pocket. “I think he wanted to throw boiling water on me..but besides that he was chill.” She shrugged and began to walk, Elaine following. “A priest? Ew, what'd he talk about? Did he want you to come by?” She sounded extremely suspicious. “He just kinda talked, I'll be honest I forgot most of it. I think he said something about me coming by..but I don't know. Sundays are supposed to be my day off from band and everything. Oh! And his name is Gregor.” Rai didn't complain, she didn't even talk bad about him. Elaine didn't like it, she didn't trust him. “Gregor? That's stupid.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, he didn't like your name either.” “he WHAT?!” Rai started laughing at her friend's reaction. The two continued their conversation as they walked, Elaine being incredibly loud while Rai told her to be quiet.

[felixcloud6288]

Higurashi: Curse Killing Chapter 12

Nice little tie-in to that poem from chapter 8. I guess Teppei (or what Satoko thought was Teppei) told her she stinks and has to take super long baths.

Now that he's in a calmer state of mind, Keiichi has realized that casually declaring a death curse on people is not a wise thing to do. It's definitely understandable he'd regret killing Irie because he declared his curse in a heated moment, but it's also surprising he regrets he killed Ooishi. They've been nothing but hostile to each other.

Nice transition from Keiichi's headspace back to the real world. Keiichi's been hearing footsteps and thinking they're from whatever is giving him the curse power. So you might think the hand is also the hand of the curse. Then it turns out the steps and hand were just Satoko.

That conversation Keiichi and Satoko have as they take the long walk up the shrine proves how killing Teppei wouldn't make Satoko happy. He admits to everything, starting with how he wasn't at the festival, then how he wish Takano, Irie, and Ooishi dead, and finally how he murdered Satoko's uncle.

Satoko doesn't want to be around a murderer. Especially one wearing her friend's face.

The scene would have been more on the nose if we saw that mural from chapter 1. Give a subtle hint to what Keiichi should have done instead.

We learned from earlier this arc that Satoko's birthday is a few days after the festival. There is a possibility this chapter is on her birthday. There is also a possibility that Keiichi murdered Mion and Rena on her birthday in Abducted by Demons. And Mion may have kidnapped and murdered her on her birthday in Cotton Drifting.

So, happy birthday Satoko.

The anime handled the scene with Rika far better than the manga did. In the anime, Keiichi pulled out the hatchet he was carrying and swung it at the crows. At one point he dropped it and it got covered in blood. Then Satoko sees Keiichi swinging madly with a blood-soaked weapon, standing over her friend's disemboweled corpse.

Here, he just finds the body and screams. Then Satoko sees it and just accuses him of killing Rika for no reason. I mean c'mon Satoko, this is Higurashi, not Ace Attorney.

Of course, it's not as if Satoko is in a right state of mind. She's concluded that Keiichi isn't actually the same Keiichi she knows. And Keiichi kind of agrees with that. After what his friends said last chapter, he believes his memories and perception is what's wrong and that there is some other Keiichi living a happy life.

And yeah, Satoko genuinely thinks she deserves every bad thing that's happened to her. She damaged the statue of Oyashiro some years ago and let Rika take the blame for it. And now she thinks every bad thing that happens to her is Oyashiro-sama punishing her for it.

It made me double check the last arc and I don't see any damage to the statue. Maybe Rika's parents fixed it, or it could just be an accidental inconsistency due to the arcs having different artists.

And for the third arc in a row, Keiichi is wondering how everything fell apart like it did. How did these happy days end so horribly? At the end of Abducted by Demons and Cotton Drifting, Keiichi wished that the truth be exposed and the case be solved.

But here, almost as if frustrated by his constant failures, Keiichi instead wished for the death of Hinamizawa.

back

[getmemymicroscope]

Through some combination of songs (from Rajkumar; from Ek Musafir Ek Hasina; from Mera Saaya; from Woh Kaun Thi?; from Love in Simla) and movies (a couple from above, though Ek Musafir Ek Hasina remains on the 'to watch' list), Sadhana has become one of my favorite actresses from the times (also: Asha Parekh; Waheeda Rehman). Just absolutely love her - see, especially, her in the songs Aap Yuhi Agar (EMEH) and Aaja Aayi Bahar (Rajkumar). Throw in a the idea of a 'revenge thriller' movie, and I was all in.

Of course, watching this YEARS after the fact - and having seen enough of the "since then" Bollywood (this movie released in 1969) - means that none of this is really shocking, twist-wise (not even sure it was then, but maybe). But now, it's all pretty predictable: mother's death when she is in jail (though, apparently she waited until the day of her 'early release for good behavior'); her relationship with Ashok Kumar (or vice versa), and relatedly, the cause and outcome of Ashok Kumar's enmity with Rehman; love triumphing over revenge and "the woman's heart" (not my words) meaning that she was bound to essentially give up this revenge mindset and decide on becoming the dutiful daughter-in-law.

Which, honestly... well, okay. The movie takes a minute to get going, but once she re-meets Ashok Kumar's character, things sort of speed up (by which I mean, they skip ahead a couple of years). But once their quest for revenge starts off - with a pretty good song - things get entertaining, and her "haha I'm drunk" song is a joy (to watch; the song itself was apparently nominated for awards, but it wasn't my favorite in this movie - see above in this sentence - and isn't even my favorite "I'm drunk" song in the movie - see his song, a bit later). But obviously his dedication to his love to her wins out, in the end - after some craziness with attempted acid-in-cake (or something like that?) that was going to somehow fix everything for the 'bad guys' - wins her over. Which, I guess that's the point of the movie - he even tells us earlier that revenge is not good (in more, and more eloquent, words), but as a pure 'revenge' thriller, it is a bit of letdown because it ends in a very 60s/70s Bollywood-ish happy ending. Which is fine for this story, but I would also have loved the opposite - this same story, but where she isn't won over by a guy who is essentially like "I know my father's falsely accusing you sent you to jail when you were innocent, and resulted in your mom's death, but you're now the daughter-in-law of this house and you should be dutiful to our name and also I love you" doesn't sway her over. At no point does he even ask his father about "what the hell did you do to her" or reproach him or show any sense of understanding to why she feels the way she does - he just judgmentally tells her that revenge is bad.

(Again, I get the message of the movie - but also, you shouldn't be able to fuck with Sadhana and get away with it.)

Again, a couple of gemacious songs - my picks are Geet Tere Saaz Ka and Jo Unki Tamanna; Kaise Rahoon Chup is good, but I'm not a huge fan of the "drunk"-type songs that involve weird voice inflections (and in some cases, like this one, 'hiccups'); and, of course, everyone knows Aa Jaane Jaan - and the presence of Sadhana essentially make up for that lackluster ending, the occasionally wacky swings from serious revenge thriller to something much less, and a hero that really just has to show up and act rich and spoiled and judgmental (and gets the girl just by being in love, and then sad when she doesn't love him as much as she wants revenge for being wronged and for her mother's death).

Intaquam is a solid revenge thriller for about the middle 70% of the movie. Good enough. Good fun.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Police Capture Luigi Gallo In Car Theft Case," Hamilton Spectator. June 2, 1952. Page 7 & 8. ---- GALLO AFTER ARREST ---- St. Catharines, June 2 - Familiarity with the personal cars of other members of the St. Catharines police force resulted in the capture of three men this morning after a short chase during which four shots were fired, Arrested at gunpoint in a field just west of St. Catharines off Highway No. 8 were Luigi Gallo, 49, of 73 East Avenue North, Hamilton; his next door neighbour Harold Conway, 30. of 71 East Avenue North, and Charles Elliottson, 30, of Port Weller. They are being held now on a charge of car theft.

The capture of the three men resulted from a series of odd coincidences Patrolling the west end of the city at 530 Sands morning. Sgt. William Watson and Constable James Gauder noticed a car belonging to Sgt. Bern Hamnett being driven along Ridley Road towards the western outskirts of the city

Thought It Odd "I said to Constable Gayder that if was a odd time of the morning for Sgt. Hamnett to be out," Sgt. Watson related, in telling of the incident. "I was going a lot faster than he usually drives and there was no mistaking the auto, as it is a seven Passenger Chevrolet, the only one in the area that we know about. So we decided to investigate.

"As soon as the driver of the cat saw is following the really poured the gas to it and reared up Louth Street and turned west on Highway No 8. We were close behind. When we got around the corner we saw the car in the ditch and the three men leaping a fence leading into a grapery. Constable Gayder jumped out and fired a warning shot into the air. On man dived for the ground, the other two kept going.

"It was Gallo who gave up first," Constable Gayder said. "He wasn't taking any chances of getting shot, I guess. I ran up to him and put handcuffs on him, then tired three more shots alongside the other two men, being careful not to hit them. They kept on going but ran right towards Sgt. Watson, who had raced around the block in the cruiser."

Trials Adjourned The trials of Louis (Luigi) Gallo and Maxime Morrison on charges to transport, possess and distribute narcotics, were adjoined by Judge Theo L. McCombs for three weeks at County Criminal Count today.

It was stated after Gallo's name bad been called three times, that he was in custody on another charge at St. Catharines. Morrison was present in court.

J. P. OReal, QC, who appeared for the accused, said "Gallo is in the custody of the Crown, and unfortunately the Crown does not see fit to produce him this morning" The Crown was the only authority who could produce Gallo, but the judge could not order his appearance and make such as order to the sheriff.

Charles Duney, QC, special prosecutor for the Crown claimed that Gallo was on bail, his bondsmen were responsible for his production in court and this was the day fixed for the trial.

Crown Appeal On April 21. Mr. Danes recalled James Carl Stout was before Judge McCombs, on similar charges now facing Gallo and Morrison. The Crown's appeal against His Honour's dismissal of Stout's charges was now pending in the Court of Appeal

If the decision in Stout's case was held up by the Appeal Court it would not be proper to proceed against Maxime Morrison. "Under these circumstances," said Mr. Davies, "I am asking for an ajournement of the charges against Morrison and the Court of Appeal deals with Stout."

Mr. O'Reilly: "I am astounded by this request. In the first place Mr. Stout is not acquitted. Your Honour found there had been insufficient evidence, and, secondly, never have I heard it before that any one on criminal trial should have the case adjourned until the trial of another person takes place, of an appeal takes place. The Crown chose to take these cases separately."

The trial of Stout had nothing to do with the actual trial of Gallo and Morrison, insofar as each one had their own individual rights of a trial.

Threat Of Trial It was nine months since Morison was arrested. It was true that a request was made by the counsel for accused for an adjournment, because certain evidence taken at a preliminary hearing had not been ready.

"But keeping a woman under the threat of a trial, pending the result of another trail of another person is not the proper procedure, and it would be holding a person in jeopardy over something with which she had noth de to do sand Mr. O'Reilly

It was entirely wrong for Morrison to be put in jeopardy because of some other case and if the Crown was not ready to proceed with the case, he would ask for an acquittal. As far as Morrison and Gallo were concerned in the Stout case, there was certainly little evidence against them.

His Honor remarked that nine months ago accused elected for trial by jury, then by consent of the court these were permitted to change their election and three adjournments followed.

Judge McCombs said that under the present circumstances he would cancel Gallo's bail, but would make no order for a forfeit. Morrison would continue on bail under her own recognizance.

Trial was fixed for June 23.

Remanded St. Catharines, June 2 (CP) - Charged with car theft and entering express office at the rail-way station here, three men today were remanded without bail June 10.

They were Luigi Galio and Harold Conway, Hamilton, and Charles Elhorson, Port Weller, Ont.

[reverend-dog]

Murmur

“Our top story tonight is a new twist on a story that’s become all too painfully familiar in our city.” The newscaster fixed a suitably grave expression on her face. “The supervillain group calling themselves Death March were found dead in their hideout early this morning. Preliminary reports indicate the members of the group – Ebon Razor, Feralis, Mega-Smash, and Aunt Arctic – got into an argument with each other, which escalated into a deadly fight. Police are still investigating,” the newscaster paused, “but if I may make a personal observation: at least the city can breathe a little easier now. The villains did for themselves what police and our superheroes could not.”

The doorbell chimed for attention from the front door. The woman groaned as she rose from the kitchen table, and shuffled in slippered feet toward the sound. She snorted in recognition as she peered through the spyhole, then unlocked and opened the door. “Hello, Vera.”

“Morning, Glory,” responded the woman from the front step. “Got a few minutes?”

Glory took a drag from her joint, then stepped back and beckoned Vera in. “Guess if I don’t,” she observed, “you’d just come back with a warrant.”

Vera smiled and shook her head. “On what grounds? You’re a law-abiding citizen who’s never been accused of anything, aren’t you?”

Glory led the way to the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Vera accepted, and claimed a chair at the table. She glanced at the television perched on the nearby counter. The news had moved on from local to national affairs. “I take it you heard about Death March.”

Glory set a steaming mug on the table near Vera. “Punks,” she grunted as she resumed her own seat. She pushed a stray lock of iron-colored hair back into place. “Only good thing they ever did, saving the city the cost of a trial and prison.”

Vera sipped her coffee, and smiled as she set the mug down. “Sweetened with honey,” she commented. “You remembered.” She sat forward in her chair, face suddenly intent. “Officially, it’s being treated as a slam dunk. Like you said, no honor among thieves, good riddance. But here’s the thing: Ebon Razor and Aunt Arctic were siblings, so were Feralis and Mega-Smash. They were intermarried, too – Ebon Razor to Feralis, Aunt Arctic to Mega-Smash. They were about as close as a group could be.” She shook her head. “Weird for them to fall out so badly.”

“Most violent deaths happen at the hands of family and friends,” Glory pointed out. “You should know that, better than most.”

“Point taken,” Vera conceded. “And we have no idea what their relationships were actually like, just what they showed during their capers.” She sipped more coffee, and licked her lips in appreciation. “I’m sure Metroguard is relieved about it. They got their asses kicked up and down the block, the last few times they went up against Death March. People were even calling for their charter to be revoked.” She heaved a sigh, and gazed out Glory’s back door to a compact, immaculate garden. “And with the evidence we’ve found in their hideout, the department can close files on quite a few cases.”

“So why aren’t you happy?” Glory pressed. “You don’t buy that they turned on each other?”

Vera shrugged. “It’s very neat,” she commented. “So few things in my line of work are neat.” She drained her mug, then stood up. “Well, I should get going. Just wanted to stop in and say hi, neighbor.”

“Any time, Vera,” Glory invited. “You know that.” She stood as well, and led the way to the front door. Fresh sunlight poured in as she opened the door to let her visitor out.

Vera paused on the front step, and turned. “We’re about the same age, Glory,” she pointed out. “Remember about fifteen years ago, a villain went by the handle Murmur?”

Glory considered. “Right,” she said after a few moments. “Weird sort. Think they were supposed to have some kind of mental powers? Nobody seemed really sure about it, so far as I heard.”

“That’s the one,” Vera nodded. “You hear what happened to her?”

Glory tilted her head. “Don’t recall,” she admitted. “They dropped off the radar after a while, most people figured they’d gotten killed or sent up. I guess you’re going to tell me different?”

Vera shrugged. “She was never arrested, here or anywhere else. Interpol and CIPHER have no records on her since then.” She regarded Glory. “Want to hear my theory?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me whether I want to or not,” Glory grumbled.

“I think she retired,” Vera offered. “Maybe she got what every villain seems to want, one last big score, and hung up the cape and cowl. Or maybe you’re right, and she got vanished by another villain, or a vigilante.” She pursed her lips, and gazed toward the street. Trees dotted the sidewalk, and children colored on the sidewalk on the far side. “But there’s a case, cold now. Murmur walks up to an armored truck making its delivery. The crew just get out, and stand by while she takes the truck and drives off.” She shook her head. “The crew were bonded and experienced, spotless records all. Even though the company couldn’t prove them dirty, they still lost their jobs, never worked security again. One committed suicide.”

Glory shook her head. “Rough. But why are you telling me this?”

“Well,” Vera mused, “Murmur was always local. And she was picky about her targets. Always went after marks that were corporate, insured. So if she did retire, makes sense to me she’d stick around familiar ground. And you know Death March’s record, they lived up to their name.”

“You trying to tell me,” Glory let skepticism drip from her voice, “that an old supervillain came out of retirement to exterminate a group of slugs the police and heroes couldn’t catch, because they were messing up her city?”

“I know!” Vera admitted. “It’s silly. And like you said, spouses and siblings attack each other all the time.” She grinned and shrugged, and stepped off Glory’s front porch toward the sidewalk. “Take care, Glory.”

“You too, Vera,” Glory returned. She watched her neighbor stroll to her car, then shut the door. Alone, she sagged against the door and blasted a breath.

“Could she know?”