#pov: you're watching your evil husband at work

[hackett-out]

Tomorrow Never Dies | Elliot Carver

[esther-dot]

Hot take but Asha bores me. She’s another one of GRRM’s action girls where he can’t be bothered to give them flaws (unlikable, fatal flaws). She’s not at all some brand new and revolutionary character the way fandom hypes her up to be. She exhibits almost all the tropes you’d expect her to and is a pretty conventional character all things considered.

If she were truly any better than the other Ironborn in any kind of conventionally moral sense, none of them would have respected her. She’s clearly fine leading the Ironmen to rape, invade, and pillage up and down the coasts of Westeros. She completely absorbed the Ironborn lifestyle and loves it. She was complicit with the culture for years. It’s expected (justly and with good reason) for Theon to grapple with the horror and immorality of reaving, and his own role in it. But Asha kind of gets away with it. She contemplates its prudence and sustainability, but readers are never fully faced with the reality of what she does, and are arguably invited to see her as Supercool Kickass Feminist Warrior instead.

Me: my anons are clearly working as a group to get me kicked out of the fandom

Also me: Outrageous. I’ll be damned if I’m the slacker in this group project! 😂

I wasn't aware that Asha was that hyped! She seemed to be Martin's attempt to have someone of the culture be a little more reasonable/not as bloodthirsty

"And if I shout your name?" Harmund demanded. "What then?"

"Peace," said Asha. "Land. Victory. I'll give you Sea Dragon Point and the Stony Shore, black earth and tall trees and stones enough for every younger son to build a hall. We'll have the northmen too . . . as friends, to stand with us against the Iron Throne. Your choice is simple. Crown me, for peace and victory. Or crown my nuncle, for more war and more defeat." She sheathed her dirk again. "What will you have, ironmen?"

"VICTORY!" shouted Rodrik the Reader, his hands cupped about his mouth. "Victory, and Asha!" (AFFC, The Drowned Man)

so I think she's meant to be a nuance within the framework of the Ironborn, but I see what you're saying. Pointing out the practicality of something is not commentary on morality or a sign that she would be able to completely change things. You’re probably right that the kind of fantasy tropes she hits help her go uncriticized.

Now that I think about it though, the trope may be old, but she is written in an interesting way within the context of ASOIAF. Asha would pursue a practical peace where Dany can't quite manage, Asha has ambition that Sansa totally lacks, she does not have the romantic nature that both Sansa and Dany have, and she is certainly not as evil as Cersei, but some of her lines comment on sexism in a similar way. So she is potentially a way to round out the female POVs if we read it generously. She will never go as far as Dany or Cersei, she will never be as compassionate as Sansa.

I suppose more importantly, Asha has one of those lines that seem significant as far as understanding the war v peace struggle and where a character falls:

A throwing axe was in her hand. She tossed it in the air and caught it deftly. "Here is my husband, Nuncle. Any man who wants me should take it up with him." (AFFC, The Iron Captain)

Some time ago I wrote about this moment for Robb:

Again the shouting began. Catelyn sat despairing. She had come so close, she thought. They had almost listened, almost … but the moment was gone. There would be no peace, no chance to heal, no safety. She looked at her son, watched him as he listened to the lords debate, frowning, troubled, yet wedded to his war. He had pledged himself to marry a daughter of Walder Frey, but she saw his true bride plain before her now: the sword he had laid on the table." (AGOT Catelyn, XI)

Robb was undone by a series of choices, his own and others, but I think Martin is consistent and insistent on his anti war stance, and it is this moment that Robb's fate was sealed, the moment he chose the sword.

As sympathetic as we are to Robb's cause, we're clearly meant to have realized that Cat was right. (link)

and we have all pointed to Dany's "bride of fire" as a worrying sign. However, Bran is wed to the trees, so it is possible there will be later opportunities for each of the remaining characters to choose a path, and perhaps that will be the moment where Asha fully becomes aware of what they've been doing.

I was gonna just leave this ask there, but I skimmed some of her chapters again because I couldn’t remember them that well, and Robb is actually mentioned to support her plan for peace, so she’s an interesting blend of what Robb chose and Cat’s good instinct. This part also strikes me. She isn’t obsessed with the title, she wants power to achieve a certain end, one that’s presented as a good option compared to the others

So, even if she isn’t reformed, we’re meant to see value in her stance. She also does have this moment which may be pointing to a change in her thinking, it at least indicates a certain awareness of what they’ve done

and I thought this was a rather poignant moment that Martin could play forward.

So, I agree with you that she’s presented as a sexy badass, and I’ll take your word for it that fandom doesn’t fully register her complicity in the crimes of the Ironborn, but there is, or at the very least, is the potential, for her story to grow in an interesting direction.

I understand your frustration though. It’s tiring to have every flaw of Sansa’s exaggerated until half the fandom is convinced she’s a murderess while the characters who do worse things are celebrated as feminist queens. 😐

[splitongues]

THE RIDDLER X READER - OBSESSIVE BEHAVIORS

Fem!Waitress!Married!Reader x Stalker!Edward Nashton

(this is also my first time writing ln here, please don't be mean! my requests are open!)

warnings: slight incel behavior, obsessive behavior, graphic description of kidnapping, murder and other triggering themes (Edward is a freak in this y'all. And it's all for you guys!)

EDWARD'S POV :

It was Thursday, October 3rd when Edward had come into the diner again. He had avoided coming in any other day except for Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Any other day was when you were off work, and he had no excuse to come other than to see you. But today was the perfect day.

The first day he had met you was after he murdered the candidate mayor. The adrenaline was rushing through his veins after the kill, and the excitement after watching it on the news made it even better. Knowing him and Batman were finally getting the chance to work together, to clean Gotham and save the city from the inner evil at it's roots.

After that, he thought he'd deserved a treat. The diner was secluded, only having a few customers, so Edward felt more comfortable in this space. He'd never forget the moments you locked eyes. Edward wasn't one to watch moves, let alone romances, but he couldn't help but feel like he'd found his one. The only one made for him.

"Hello, Welcome to Lucy's. What can I get you?" Your voice was mellow and light, ladylike in all standards. The smile you gave gleamed in the grubby restaurant lights and Ed knew a lady like you just didn't belong here. He picked up his menu and began to list off what he wanted. Pumpkin pie with a irish coffee and two bagels.

He watches you nod as write down his order, chewing on your lip in concentration which almost made him wanna order more, just to get a glimpse of blood if you chewed too hard. Your hand titled down and the gleam of a ring hit eye. Gold with a nice, perfect diamond, no signs of damage or scratching.

No, no that wouldn't work. He'd just found you, you couldn't be taken from him already "You're married?"

You looked up at him in confusion and he felt himself stammer to fix himself "I mean your husband must be lucky. Very much" The confusion luckily eased away and nodded in a appreciation with a gentle smile "Thank you. 2 years going strong" The smile slipped slightly for just a second "Will that be all?"

"Yeah, that'll be just fine" With a polite smile, you tucked your pen behind your ear, pad into your apron and walked behind the counter to tell the cook. His eyes never left you as you walked. Your confidence was slightly off-putting, he never really liked that in a women, but he could fix it. As soon as he got rid of another problem.

Eventually his food came, and he ate it as slow as possible to have enough time to stay. Even getting a fee refills of coffee after he was perfectly full. It was closing time when they finally told him to leave. And he stayed just a little longer to watch you enter your vehicle.

When the smell of gentle perfume hit his nose, Edward was drawn out of his flashback to see you. Your uniform wasn't the standard color, since it was Halloween, you were adorned in black instead of yellow. He thought it suited your lovely figure the best.

As Edward had stated before, there was a specific reason he came in today, not just to see you. Thursday, October 3rd was apparently your anniversary. The day you were unknowingly stolen right under his nose. But today was the day he'd fix that "Hey Eddie, will you be having the usual?"

With a smooth smile, he nodded and you sent a grin back, and walked behind the counter. His eyes didn't leave your form. He took a quiet sip of his coffee, savoring the slight burn. Edward was gonna be quite busy today.

[thewidowsghost]

Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

(Y/n) stands in the kitchen of her mother and step-father's apartment, making the bean dip Smelly Gabe liked so much.

(Y/n) fixes her gaze on the counter but then she lets out a yelp as something hits her in between her shoulder blades.

"Hurry it up, girl!" Smelly Gabe snarls.

"Yes sir," (Y/n) murmurs.

A few minutes later, Gabe stalks into the kitchen, takes the dip without so much of a thank you.

(Y/n) fixes her gaze on the shoe on the ground before she moves to her room. She climbs into her bed, getting under her covers. (Y/n) turns, facing the wall.

She closes her eyes, falling to an uneasy sleep.

(Y/n) watches, disconnected from the others in the dream, as one of her brother's teachers turns into something that reminded her of a demon, or something similar that she'd read books about. The woman had bat wings, claws, and a mouth of yellow fangs.

Then (Y/n) looks around, her eyes widening in shock as she sees her brother holding a bronze sword.

Percy swings the sword, the demon exploding into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot.

A hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder has (Y/n) jolting awake. "Honey? Are you okay?" Sally Jackson asks.

Catching the wide-eyed look of horror on (Y/n)'s face, Sally wraps her daughter in a hug.

(Y/n)'s breathing steadies, and she breathes in her mother's familiar scent - chocolate, licorice, and all the other things she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central Station.

"Did you get all your work done?" Sally asks softly, her thumb brushing over a slightly visible bruise that had appeared at the base of the back of her neck.

(Y/n) hums in reply.

. . .

The next day, (Y/n) is once again lying in her bed, not wanting to have to deal with Gabe throwing more shoes or glass bottles at / near her.

. . .

Percy walks into the apartment, dragging his suitcase behind him, hoping his mom would be home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe is in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blares ESPN; chips and beer cans are strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking up, he says around his cigar, "So, you're home."

"Where's my mom? (Y/n)?"

"Mom's working," Gabe says. "The girl's in her room. You got any cash?"

"That's it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?

Gabe had put on weight since the last time Percy had seen him. Gabe looked like a tuskless walrus in thrift-store clothes. He has about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp.

"I don't have any cash," Percy replies.

Gabe raises a greasy eyebrow. Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which is surprising, since his own smell should've covered up everything else.

"You took a taxi from the bus station," he says. "Probably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he ought to carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?"

Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looks at Percy with a twinge of sympathy. "Come on, Gabe," he says. The guy just got here."

"Am I right?" Gabe repeats.

Eddie scowls into his bowl of pretzels. The two other guys pass gas in harmony.

"Fine," Percy says. He digs a wad of dollars out of his pocket and throws the money on the table. "I hope you lose."

"Your report card came, brain boy!" He shouts back at Percy. "I wouldn't act so snooty!"

Percy slams the door to his room, which isn't really his room. During school months, it is Gabe's 'study.' He doesn't study anything in there except old car magazines, but he loves shoving his stuff in Percy's closet, leaving his muddy boots on the windowsill, and doing his best to make the place smell like his nasty cologne, cigars, and stale beer.

Percy drops his suitcase on the bed. Home sweet home he thinks.

Gabe's smell is almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit lady's shears snipping the yarn.

Percy sits, lost in his thoughts.

Then he hears his mom's voice, "Percy?" She opens the bedroom door, and his fears melt. "Oh, Percy," she hugs him tight. "I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas."

Sally had brought Percy a bag of 'free samples' the way she always did whenever he'd come home.

The two sit together on the bed. While Percy attacks the blueberry sour strings, she runs her hands through his hair, demanding to know everything that he hadn't put in his letters. She doesn't mention his getting expelled. She doesn't seem to care about that.

Percy tells his mother that she is smothering him, but secretly, Percy is really, really glad to see her.

From the other room, Gabe yells, "Hey, Sally - how about some bean dip, huh?"

Percy grits his teeth. My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should be married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

(Y/n) pads into Percy's room, and the dark haired boy brightens at the sight of his younger twin.

"I've got the dip, Mom," (Y/n) says softly. Sally gazes at her daughter for a moment, her gaze sad.

"Wait, (Y/n)," Sally says, and (Y/n) turns back to face her mother. "I've got a surprise for the two of you," she says. "We're going to the beach."

Percy's eyes widen. "Montauk?"

"Three nights - same cabin," Sally replies.

"When?" (Y/n) asks, looking excited.

She smiles, "As soon as I get changed."

(Y/n) can't believe it. Mom, Percy, and I hadn't been to Montauk in the last two summers because Gabe had said that there wasn't enough money.

Gabe appears in the doorway behind (Y/n) and growls, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"

Percy wants to punch him, but he meets his mother's eyes, and understands that she is offering him a deal: Be nice to Gabe for a little while; just until she's ready to leave for Montauk.

"I've got it, Gabe," (Y/n) says.

"Sorry, honey," Sally says, looking at her husband. "We were just talking about the trip."

Gabe's eyes get small. "The trip? You mean you were serious about that?"

"I knew it," Percy mutters. "He won't let us go."

"Of course he will," Sally says evenly. "Your stepfather is just worried about money."

(Y/n) turns to face Gabe, smiling as kindly as she could. "What if I make a seven-layer dip that'll last the whole weekend?" she asks. "Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

Gabe softens a bit, then turns back to face Sally. "So, this money for your trip . . . it comes out of your clothes budget, right?"

"Yes, honey," Sally replies.

"And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back."

"We'll be very careful."

Gabe scratches his double chin. "Maybe if the girl hurries up with the seven-layer dip . . . and if the boy apologizes for interrupting my poker game."

Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, Percy thinks. And make you sing soprano for a week.

"I'm sorry," Percy mutters. "I'm really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important power game. Please go back to it right now."

Gabe's eyes narrow. His tiny brain is probably trying to detect the sarcasm in my statement, Percy thinks.

"Yeah, whatever," Gabe decides; he goes back to his game.

"Thank you, Percy," Sally says. "Once we get to Montauk, we'll talk more about...whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?"

For a moment, (Y/n) can see anxiety in her mother's eyes, but then her smile returns, and (Y/n) figures that she must've been mistaken.

. . .

An hour later, the three are ready to leave.

Gabe takes a break from his poker game long enough to watch (Y/n) and Percy lug the bags to his car. He keeps griping and groaning about losing her and (Y/n)'s cooking - and more important, his '78 Camaro - for the whole weekend.

"Not a scratch on this car, brain boy," Gabe warns Percy as he loads the last bag into the car. "Not one little scratch."

Like I'd be the one driving. I'm fourteen, Percy thinks.

Watching Gabe lumbers back towards the apartment building, Percy gets so mad that he does something he can't explain. As Gabe reaches the door, Percy makes the hand gesture he'd seen Grover made on the bus, a soft of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over his heart, then a shoving movement towards Gabe. The screen door slams so hard it whacks him the the butt and sends him flying up the staircase as if he'd been shot from a cannon.

. . .

(Y/n)'s POV

Our rental cabin is on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It is a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There's always sand in the sheets, spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea is too cold to swim in.

I loved the place.

Mom, Percy, and I had been going ever since Percy and I'd been a baby. Mom had been coming even longer. She'd never exactly said, but I know why the beach was special to her.

It's the place where she'd met my Dad.

As we get closer to Montauk, Mom seems to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turn the color of the sea.

We get there around sunset, open all the cabin's windows, and go through the usual cleaning routine.

Mom, Percy, and I walk on the beach, feed blue corn-chips to the seagulls, and munch on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples Mom had brought home from work.

I guess maybe I should explain all the blue food.

Gabe had once told Mom that there was no such thing. They had had this fight, which had seemed like a really small think at the time, but ever since, Mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes, mixed blueberry smoothies, bought blue-corn tortilla chips, and brought home blue candy from the shop. This - along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano - is proof that she isn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, just like Percy.

When it gets dark, we make a fire. We roast hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom tells Percy and me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents had died in the plane crash. She tells us about the books she wanted to write someday, when she had enough money to quit the candy shop.

Eventually, it seems that Percy gets the nerve to ask about what is always on our minds whenever we come to Montauk - our father. Mom's eyes go all misty. I figure she would tell us the same things she always did, but neither Percy or I ever got tired of hearing them.

"He was kind, Percy," Mom replies. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle too, like you, (Y/n)." Mom says and I soften. "You have his black hair, Percy, and you both share his green eyes.

Mom fishes a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you two. He would be so proud."

I wonder how she could say that when I'm the girl who cowers from her stepfather. The girl who hides in her room to get away from said stepfather.

"How old were we?" Percy asks, pulling me from my thoughts. "I mean . . . when he left?"

Mom watches the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin."

"But . . . he knew us as babies."

"No, honey," Mom replies. "He knew I was expecting twins, but he never met you. He had to leave before you were born."

I try to square that with the fact that I seem to remember . . . something about my father. A warm glow, maybe a smile.

Percy and I had always assumed that our father had known us as babies. Mom had never said it outright, but still, I'd felt that it must be true. Now, to be told that he'd never even seen us . . .

I feel angry at my father. Maybe it is stupid, but I resent him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry Mom.

"Are you going to send me away again?" Percy asks. "To another boarding school?"

Mom pulls a marshmallow from the fire.

"I don't know, honey," her voice is heavy. "I think . . . I think we'll have to do something."

"Because you don't want me around?" Percy says and I flinch, avoiding both his and Mom's gazes.

I glance up to see that Mom's eyes had welled up with tears. "Oh, Percy, no. I - I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away."

"But you never send her away," Percy says and I look up, eyes wide with surprise.

Mom looks at Percy, eyes wide with shock.

Finally she says, "I have to keep both of you away from each other as much as possible. I thought you'd finally be safe."

"I tried to keep you as close to me as I could," Mom says. "They told me it was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy, (Y/n) - the place your father wanted to send you two. And I just . . . I just can't stand to do it."

"Our father wanted us to go to a special school?" I ask.

"Not a school," Mom replies. "A summer camp."

My head spins. Why would my dad - who hadn't even stayed around to see me and Percy be born - talk to Mom about a summer camp?

"I'm sorry, (Y/n)," Mom says, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I - I couldn't send you two to that place. It might mean saying goodbye to you for good."

"For good?" Percy asks. "But if it's only a summer camp . . ."

Mom turns towards the fire, and I know from her expression, that if we asked any more questions, she would start to cry.

Word Count: 2413 words

[kneamet]

Jaguar! Tom x ReaderYour marriage is falling apart, and you're done trying to save it. You are crying at night when think your husband can't hear it. Little do you know how horrifying Tom can be when he want to keep you forever.

Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere

Word Count: 1632

Character: Jaguar!Tom/reader

Summary: you cry and think he can't hear you.

POV Your

"Today was a good day, wasn't it, doll?" a haunting baritone voice sounded near your ear, which was always pleasant to your ear, but now you realized that you didn't even want to hear it. It was disgusting. Very nasty.

Suddenly, you felt familiar hands pulling you into an embrace and leaning against your naked body. You could feel the pressure of your husband's abs on your back, but you never felt joy at the sight of him.

Your husband. He was a rather unpleasant person that you didn't even want to see lately, not to mention feel his body and hear his sweet voice, which used to attract you so much before you found out the whole truth.

And yet she had fallen for his seductive lie as if she had been trained to it without even recognizing it. It was painful to realize. That you were tricked, so compulsively manipulated. Disgusting.

You let out a soft sigh, feeling Thomas's nose press against your head, running through your soft hair, swaying slightly at the same time. It was unpleasant.

Before, before the whole truth about your husband was revealed to you, you sometimes even in your thoughts were afraid to say his name and call him such ugly words, but at the moment, you simply could not restrain yourself, but now you understood that such a scoundrel, who is depriving you of all your life, is worthy of such words and loud censures in his direction.

There were many words that came to mind to prove how disgusting he was, but you understood that at the moment, showing contempt for his touch on your face meant smelling death and realizing that punishment could follow immediately, and even in a rough form.

You were afraid of punishment. No, and not because it hurt, that's understandable. You were afraid of his punishments, because you couldn't stand all the humiliation that happened on his part. The words he used to call you, the actions he performed, and always saying that he loved you.

No, you felt your back goosebumps from the fact that he was breathing very loudly and regularly into your back. You flinched imperceptibly, wishing that it would escape the eyes of Thomas, who always kept a sharp eye on all your movements. He watched as if he were a falcon, hunting for prey that would later turn into food.

"Are you cold, doll?" a sweet voice asked in your ear, and you felt a slight pain as Thomas ' teeth brushed against your ear. "Do you want me to warm you up?" he asked softly, biting his lip slightly.

Suddenly, you felt his hand drop down and slowly slide under your nightgown, tracing your thighs with light and almost weightless movements. Your eyes widened.

"Thomas, I want to sleep," you said, tensing, but forcing yourself to turn and smile at your husband who was torturing you. He merely raised an eyebrow, licking his lip slightly, and nodded toward the bed.

He finally moved away from you and immediately felt relieved, but the tension did not disappear. It was still scary. What if he does something while you're sleeping? Or something else?

Nodding to yourself, as if confident in your actions, you sank down on the bed, immediately covering yourself with the cold sheet that was washed. The bed was not only soft, but also exquisite. You've always confirmed that you think Thomas has good taste in clothes and in the interior of rooms.

But that still doesn't change the fact that you literally don't have the most positive feelings for him.

Suddenly, the light disappeared before your eyes and everything was plunged into a gloomy darkness. Nothing, your eyes will soon get used to it and you will start to feel more confident. Because at the moment, it felt like you were a little sheep being hunted by an evil gray wolf. And you didn't want to be in the sheep's place at all.

The bed sagged behind you, and you realized that it was Thomas lying down next to you. Suddenly, though it was only to be expected, because that was what he always did. He always showed you by such actions that he was in charge of the situation. That it is he who dominates everything.

He has always been the main thing in your relationship, not even allowing you to express your opinion in certain cases. And it always annoyed you. You didn't understand why he treated you like you were a little girl who couldn't even cook a simple meal.

His hands were on your waist and he pulled you closer to him. You liked to sleep on your side at the end of the bed, but Thomas always pulled you closer to him. Perhaps this is how he wanted to show you that you are his? But it wasn't the smartest way.

"I love you, doll," he murmured, his voice very sleepy, and you could feel his breathing becoming regular and even. Is it just me, or is he asleep?

You pursed your lips, feeling the feeling that there is a feeling stronger than hate begin to form in your heart. Although it would seem that what could be stronger? Probably that he should have cleaned his shoes better.

Yes, it would seem, a small mistake that cost the love of the woman you love. You didn't understand why he was so bad at keeping track of his clothes, or rather, his shoes. I could have at least checked my clothes for blood before entering the scrap yard. Or maybe he did it in the house?

It hurt to think about it. You were worried that your husband had personally killed a man in your house. Or maybe there were a lot of them? Maybe he killed people in batches, and you were just his trophy, that you just relieved the tension for him.

You've never thought about Thomas ' work before. She's always been a mystery to you. A stately, intelligent man. Always elegantly dressed, straight from the needle. Correctly communicates in society, the behavior corresponds to the norm. And who would have thought that your husband would kill people?

Unfortunately, you didn't have any reliable information, so you couldn't prove that he really kills people. However, the fact that you heard someone's almost inaudible screams below at night, you could not explain.

There was no possibility to file for divorce. And not because you were afraid that he would suspect you of cheating or collaborating with those he killed. It was scary just to talk to him about it at dinner. You were just afraid of anger.

The feeling of anticipation and fear once again enveloped you with a new force. You were afraid to think about it. Suddenly, a drop of a tear rolled down your cheek. It tasted salty as it slowly rolled down, cooling your cheek. On the other, suddenly, a tear also rolled down and you realized that you were ready to discharge right in front of your husband. Even if he was asleep.

***

POV Thomas

Thomas felt his eye twitch with impatience. It was unbearable to hear his beloved wife choking on her tears, trying to cry so that he couldn't hear.

He wanted so much to comfort you, to pat you on the head, to talk about these things that you cry about, but he knew that this was not an option. You will definitely refuse his hugs, and even from simple touches. Even though you were married to him!

Thomas has seen you become more and more closed off towards him. It's as if your feelings, your hot and passionate feelings, have cooled towards him. And Thomas didn't like it at all.

He didn't like to see it. To watch you talk to his servants at meals, or not appear in the same room with him at all. You even went to bed in the guest rooms. And that always made Thomas angry. Do you really think he won't pay attention?" That he would leave it without proper conversation and punishment? Because Thomas would never want such defiance.

He didn't understand what had caused you to stop even talking to him. Now, your conversations are limited to just simple phrases.

Still feeling your body on the floor with his hands, Thomas moved even closer to you, tightening his embrace but still trying to pretend that he was asleep. He didn't want his beloved to be completely estranged from him.

Thomas knew he wouldn't last long. He needed a meaningful dialogue with his wife, not a simple greeting from work.

He even stopped thinking about work. The feeling of apathy and the fact that he was slowly, but surely, turning into a neurotic, strained him. It was becoming unbearable.

To kill, to pull off the next fraud, trying to stay clean, and even to make transactions, he did not want to do it at all. The fire that was visible every time the fate of people was fulfilled burned brightly in his eyes. It literally burned with a gray flame. Thomas had always been fascinated by the idea of deciding the fate of people he didn't know.

Suddenly, his ears picked up something he shouldn't have. It was a light whisper. It was impossible to wake them, however, since the room was very quiet and nothing could be heard, since Thomas had made this room, as well as the basement, sound-proof.

"How you disgust me," the voice is soft, inaudible. A melodic sound that Thomas had previously loved to enjoy. "Thomas," the voice added, and Thomas pressed his lips together.

He decided to discuss it with his wife over breakfast. He wouldn't care about her feelings. And he would make her regret those words.