#like the tragedy of what could’ve been is devastating

[thelightatendwasaflamethrower]

Once Rhaenyra and Allicent were forced to say one (1) nice thing about each other their friendship really just came rushing back huh

[mysterycitrus]

AHHHH greta your ranking of people that deaged! dick met,,, im chewing ice furiously. it's so so heartbreaking to think about because both tim and damian (esp damian) are so adamant in their belief that being robin was a good thing, maybe the best thing to happen to them. in fact, each robin feels that way (even jason and to a certain degree, steph!!!). and that is so at war with dick's internal belief that his mother's name, the grayson legacy, his legacy- has been bastardized,,, the colours being gone from damian's suit, especially!! it would be so hard for deaged!dick to reconcile that he was, in fact, the one who primarily designed damian's suit but to him (current!dick), that erosion of the colours and his legacy was exactly that- an erosion- it happened gradually and over time and too often, dick felt like a bystander with a lack of agency despite the fact that each subsequent robin was looking to him for approval or guidance or commiseration or just understanding. if deaged!dick had exactly any idea how much of an enabler he has been, too in what robin became to mean to gotham, to all these kids, i think he would actually combust from self-hatred (beyond what he has assumed and gleaned from events in fic!verse). anyway, I just wanted to say i read the newest chapter and actually lost all semblance of being able to articulate anything i was feeling. it all just felt like GRIEF. the awful, awful burning feeling of being seventeen, I think if I had to meet 17 yo me, I, too would actually want to die. it truly, truly was a joy to read and I'm so grateful you shared this fic with us,,, ur brain is so BIG!!! thank you for sharing your words with us im gonna be thinking about it all for days and days <3

tyvm!!! really really glad it resonated!! it’s interesting how part 3 is being read cause to me like…. as much as no one can understand his mindset, 17yo dick grayson is just not equipped to understand exactly how much the world has changed in a decade. he notices that the manor has been rebuilt, and that the gotham skyline has changed, but how would one explain death in the family, or the cataclysm, or no man’s land, or knightfall, or contagion, or the crisis, or donna and bruce’s deaths? can he really understand that being robin was a bright spot in these kids lives, regardless of the grief? that’s the nature of the tragedy — things are so much worse and so much better than he could imagine.

in saying that though — there’s a lot dick will let slide because he and bruce love each other to the point of ruin. that’s something dick, ten years younger and hurting and grieving, was immediately able to clock. what dick does as an adult, the purposeful distance he build around himself from others, both protects and hurts him. he keeps his cards so close to his chest. he fears being truly seen. in this post-crisis universe, when his role as robin ended in heartbreak, was there ever a point when it could’ve passed on peacefully? or is he doomed to repeat that cycle, however intentionally kind, to tim?

he is a witness to his own grief. he is loved, but every action they take proves that these people don’t know him. he cannot change what has already happened. he is trapped in a past that is long since over. if he understood how hurt bruce had been, the extent to which robin was a crutch for his sense of control, what would he think? if he understood what happened to stephanie — bruces fear pushed to an absolute limit to devastating results — would he be able to live with himself? would he recognise himself at all? like the ship of theseus, he is slowly stripped of everything but name. everything is so precious that sharing it is painful.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Marie Presley, interview for Rolling Stone Magazine, 1997, introducing her film TLC: The Presley Way

A Sarge & lil Mama blurb, 2nd generation: Marie. word count 2k, PG rating, mentions of divorce

Marie: “You know, I’m used to being asked how it impacted me being the child with the least ‘parental involvement.’ But I really don’t get it, not even when my siblings joke that Elvis was more like Santa to me than dad, a merry-making stranger who showed up once in a blue moon to spread love and cheer before rushing back to the workshop to make more goodies the rest of the year.

“Maybe there’s some truth in that but how was I to know? I didn’t know anything differently than what I had, just like lots of kids you don’t know what else you could’ve had, just like I didn’t know anything different from being very privileged, um, just as my dad didn’t know any different from being very poor.

“But what I do know is that I was very loved, I have been my whole life, and what I have are a treasure trove of memories, extensive amounts of time spent with him at all ages. I look at it this way, we wouldn’t say someone is fatherless just because their dad is gone every day of their life from seven in the morning to six in the evening, that’s a whole lotta time to be gone.

“Whereas I had months on end where I saw Dad from sunup to sundown, slept in my parents bed, ate and played and read with them. Spent time on homework and perhaps most personally impactful, I had my own interests nurtured by them. Dad spoiled me, there’s no question about it, but it wasn’t in the way of rich men giving their kids toys and telling them to then run along, leave them alone.

“Dad engaged with me on everything and anything interesting to me, anything that interested my siblings he would spend hours on it, not even the fun part of say -photography. But the boring details, too. If there was a new camera he would get it for me and together we could figure out how to make it work, how to develop the film, how to get the perfect exposure.

“We’d pour over artists' work and do our best to mimic them. It was play but it was always constructive, and when I think back on those late Vegas afternoons that were his mornings, that he would spend tirelessly engaged with me and my siblings, only to then have to go out and perform multiple times into the night, the adult in me is exhausted and grateful that he took the time. That he did it all so cheerfully that I had no idea how worn out he was.

“The divorce years were hard, I was an eight year old and definitely attuned to the different dynamics in my family. I was very close with my sister Ella who was extremely unhappy at the time, maybe more so than most of my siblings. So her discontent rubbed off on me a little, confused me. But for the most part I didn’t notice a big change, mom and daddy really tried to keep it under wraps, multiple times they insisted there wasn’t a team to pick, and maybe that was too nuanced for the older kids but I got it, I chose not to pick teams.

And before it had lasted very long, we were all back together again.

“Daddy didn’t have a tour, what with Colonel Parker being under investigation, and he stayed home because of Danny, and Daisy and then they got remarried. It was a blip for me really. I got to live with Ella, I got to travel around with Jesse and dad, I got to visit Rosalee out at college. It seemed more like a vacation bouncing than banishment. I was really fine with it, maybe I’m just built that way, it wasn’t as devastating as it might’ve been for another child.

“I do remember my ninth birthday being the single bummer of it all. Or at least, the day started off going decidedly down hill.

“I was the baby who made it after the tragedy of them losing Jo, and you beat believe dad always made a huge deal of my birthday. He’d always tickle the Angel kisses on the back of my neck and remind everyone how Jo and Gladys sent me, mama would recount the story of my birth and my siblings would recall how they laid hands on mama’s belly and prayed I’d come out safe every day for eight months before I was born.

So after nine years of this, when I came downstairs in ‘77 to find that the earth and divorce proceedings hadn’t screeched to a stop just to celebrate me, I was pretty miffed.

I remember just feeling like the vibes were really off at the house, even though dad had come back to celebrate, it was obvious he was very upset with mom. I remember Jesse took me riding on his bike that day, we got out of the house and had fun and I remember when he put me on it, mom and dad were in a deep discussion on the porch, apparently about the fact that I was having a meltdown over not being treated special enough. I've already admitted I was very spoiled, OK folks?

“But the real big thing for me was that by the time I came back from that ride and opened my presents and we ate dinner, things seemed perfectly fine, normal and natural. That night we went through our usual routine and I climbed in the bed with mom and dad like old times. Now that I think about it, that was probably the first time in months that they slept together, and they did that for me. And they did it so naturally and it was really a happy evening, even for them, I think.

“It’s funny how professional you can get at getting along when you’ve had to endure so much like they had, one night of harmony in the middle of a divorce wasn’t a big hurdle for them. There was so much love still there and so much practice, just a lotta confusion. You can see why I wasn’t very surprised when Mama showed up with a baby and a wedding band back on her finger. It might sound bizarre to outsiders, and it’s certainly been portrayed like that by some of our closest friends, but in this film I’d like to set the record straight. It’s what I saw lived out.

Love can be very chaotic sometimes, complex and bizarre but it tries its best. It seeks the good of others. It’s the catalyst for great things and produces generous hearts. And my family certainly did just that.”

Thanks for letting me bug ya with a blurb, and slowly but surely I’m putting faces to the kids, and their stories too. So much thanks goes to my girlies who hash this out with my for hours on end in the chats. The chats are the new trenches, ok? It’s where ya make your Bestest buddies.

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

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@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

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@soloangel

@xenaspace3-blog

@60svintage

[likeadevils]

what songs from TTPD and TA are now yours? Which ones have spoken to you the most?

songs that are genuinely MINE

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus: i cried myself to sleep listening to this song on repeat on release night and for the life of me i cant tell you why. i think it’s a great example of her being older really deepening her writing— just that old scarred over longing of a possible life, a possible love, too far away to reach but close enough to brush past. also, the double edged sword of “if you want to break my cold, cold heart, just say’ i loved you the way that you were’”— you loved me before i’d twisted myself into the shape i am now in order to keep my current partner, but also, you loved me the way i was, not the way i am now

i look in peoples windows: i wrote a poem with the line “im afflicted by the not knowing” in it!! inspired by the outside!! and by spending so much of my childhood reading by moonlight and spying on my neighbors through their windows!!! it was called where midnight lives!!! what the fuck!!!

robin: another song i sobbed hysterically to. i was a strange little violent child obsessed with dinosaurs it feels like a lullaby someone made specifically about 3 year old me.

songs that i’m obsessed with:

but daddy i love him: the bridge is just so fun to scream along to. everytime ive been in a car since the album came out ive played this at least two times just cause

fresh out the slammer: it’s just. the first verse??? the way the song stutters apart for the last verse??? this song takes the blurry muse conceit of the album and uses it to its fullest. also just the diminishing returns from “but its gonna be alright, i did my time”

i can do it with a broken heart: my first listen favorite

the smallest man who ever lived: the bridge????? the bridge???? the bridge???? a few of the negative reviews specifically mentioned this song as boring and for a millisecond i was so angry i could’ve exploded

the black dog: this is like, the platonic ideal of a taylor swift song to me. just that old quiet tragedy she can build out of little moments of hoping your ex will remember you when they hear your favorite song or not having known your last kiss was your last kiss or your ex still sharing their location with you. like, it’s just her at her best, but with the maturity to sing “and you jump up, but she’s too young to know this song”

i hate it here: people have talked about seeing reputation in the anthology but i think you can also see so much debut and it makes me feel so tender. also i genuinely don’t understand why people don’t like “if chose the 1830s but without all the racists” like?? it’s supposed to be a bit clunky?? the songs about the limits of escapism?? the line enhances both of those themes?? also “i’m there most of the year” is such a funny devastating relatable lyric to say about a daydream

thank you aimee: it’s not every day a song inspires you to send this message about something a child did to you (fuck you madeline!!! fuck you jessie!!!)

the bolter: avoidant attachment representation!!! i love that it takes the stuff she hated about herself in the archer and just accepts and loves them and appreciates what they’ve given her. i especially love it because bolt can mean like, crossbow bolts, so it’s a flip on the archer. also “bolt” is one of my favorite words i love all the different meanings

“the only thing that’s left is the manuscript, one less souvenir from my trip to your shores, now and then i re-read the manuscript, but the story isnt mine anymore” also just had me sobbing. there’s just. wtf!!!!!!

[stuckinapril]

how do u cope with being betrayed or scammed or played, it happens to me so much, i don't want to change who i am to stay safe, but i am so angry and devastated and hurt, i want to cry, i feel like it triggers my cptsd, i feel so unsafe and don't trust anyone.

it has really helped me to reframe misfortune: instead of going “bad things always happen to me,” i’ve switched to “bad things always happen for me.” have i been through some shitty experiences i’d rather never repeat? totally. but it doesn’t make it any less a fact that they did happen—so i might as well learn something from them. every time someone walks out of my life or i get unlucky or i have to deal with an unfavorable situation, it’s for the purpose of my growth. it’s to get me to the place i need to be. this growth mindset stops me from catastrophizing situations or thinking i’m doomed to tragedy. life really is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.

i’m also a fan of holding myself accountable. if it’s a continuous pattern in your life to allow people to betray you or scam you or play you, maybe it’s time to turn the focus on yourself and go “why is that the case? what can i do to prevent this? what errors am i making that allow these people into my life in the first place?” there’s absolutely no shame in that. i just think it’s flawed to not change, to do the exact same thing you’ve been doing, all while expecting the end result to be different. absolutely do not self-flagellate—some people truly are shitty & there is very little you could’ve done differently to prevent that—but you are a locked gate, not an open entrance with no door. you’re not hopeless. you allow people in and out of your life at your own leisure. better yet, maybe it’s time to learn the warning signs so you don’t let these people past the gate in the first place. understanding you have agency is so instrumental in preventing these things from reoccurring.

finally—cptsd is very complex. it’s beyond the scope of anyone who hasn’t gone through it themselves, me included. it’s totally okay to go “maybe this isn’t something i can control all by myself” and to invest in therapy, in a support system, in anything that could mitigate it. don’t be afraid to admit to yourself that you need help. and please don’t be too hard on yourself friend, this all happens to the best of us. i hope you figure it out and find the people who’re right for you & with whom you can feel safe x

[duckiemimi]

i feel this way too thank u for explaining so beautifully. when my heart aches for them it’s rooted in the belief that they truly could’ve been saved. the “he was doomed from the beginning” quotes about them kinda rubbed me the wrong way. omg 😭💔 u just made me so devastated but also hope is beautiful

yes! the biggest tragedy was that it could've all been prevented, not because they were born cursed! i've never liked the "doomed from the beginning" rhetoric. it's too easy to find poetry in the idea of fatalism, and i consider myself pretty melodramatic! and really, what is fate to grit?

[halfmoth-halfman]

i know the happy ending has semi been decided but, but, indulge me.

canary is dead, she was a strong woman but the torture she endured and the betrayal break her. she’s gone, her body may still be here but she’s left the building. all they’re left with is a husk they’re responsible for making, it didn’t have to end this way. this story didn’t have to be a tragedy, but it’s too late and here they are, with a woman they loved and cared for broken in part by them.

the guilt, the what ifs, the could’ve beens, they’re all so delicious when you make it a tragedy. john looking into the dead eyes of the woman he loved, ghost staring at the scars of the woman he betrayed, and kyle, poor kyle. the friend who gave him something no one else could, a reminder of his mother, and now she’s a living corpse because of his family.

im in your ask box writing fan fic of your fan fic because you make my brain go brrrr

anon, my darling, my sweet summer child, i need to know, respectfully....who hurt you 😭

laksdjkasl this would be so devastating i am obsessed with the way your mind works rn like to have her be rescued or escape and finally get out from under graves's clutches only to end up as a husk of the person she was before and not even being able to enjoy her freedom wouldn't even be bittersweet, it'd just be tragic

but also....i kinda want to write this now???? 👀 maybe i'll do like an extra "bad ending" chapter or st after it's all done

[lil-oreo-crumbles]

so, what is the political system in Septarsis? Historically, I mean?

The short and sweet is this

Septarsis changes political systems based on what’s needed at the time

But here’s the whole thing :)

For most of its history, after becoming a united civilization, Septarsis was a democracy. No one really had more power than anyone else.

Sure, there was an elected Council/Assembly of about 15, but they didn’t hold much true, dominant power nor were any of them a true figurehead. There were terms and limits on how long each individual could serve, and anyone could become one if they were voted in. The Assembly mainly served as the people who ran organizations to run the civilization and came up with laws that everyone would vote on, serving to protect the minority. They valued the voices of everyone, even the tiniest of voices, and the Assembly proved to be a failsafe so minorities would be protected. It wasn’t foolproof since everyone did get a vote to pass new laws and decrees, but it worked enough. The Assembly also worked to keep diplomatic ties between the other civilizations and maintain peace with outsiders. But what’s important is that decision-making was civilization-wide.

But that all changed when the Mewmans came.

Since Septarsis is so guarded, they weren’t initial victims of the land stealing, but they were quickly made aware of it. Different monster civilizations had different systems, but even the other democratic-like monsters sent someone to represent themselves and jointly confront this new “Queen” about her… actions. After a lot of back-and-forth, Septarsis decided on a young woman from The Assembly, Adina Kardona, to represent Septarsis.

The monsters tried to calmly reason with Queen Moe about her actions and tried to work out some sort of agreement and land arrangements, but we all know that failed spectacularly. Septarsis lost a LOT of people in the resulting Great Monster Massacre (The GMM as a whole knocked out 60% of the monster population; I’m not sure about Septarsis and their stats yet). Their regenerative abilities only aided them for so long because Moe found a way to counter it and make them killable (it’s a very specific spell that’s long gone, but its effects are still very present within Septarsis).

Anyway, after this devastating genocide, they really needed a strong leader to guide them out of the tragedy of their losses. Adina proved herself to be a strong defensive force that helped prevent a lot more casualties during the genocide itself. She was unanimously chosen to lead the restoration of Septarsis. She was declared the Sovereign (since the Septarians notoriously hate the terms King/Queen).

She reigned for 220 years with her husband and eventually had two children, Seth and (who would eventually become) Zarina. However, the Septarians love democracy, and assumed that her reign would merely be temporary— or at the very least more democratic. Many Septarians still adored her and wanted to keep her as their leader, remembering her fearless and selfless deeds during the GMM (and she was a good enough leader), but the less democratic Septarsis became, the more groups convened and started to get restless. It didn’t help that she was very isolationist and wanted to steer clear of Mewman conflict and wasn’t as active as she could’ve been in Septarsis itself. This increasing tension snapped when one of Adina’s former lovers schemed and plotted to overthrow them. He convened with a group of Mewmans, bringing them to Septarsis and having them kill the elder Kardonas during a weak point. He also had Seth and Zarina taken as captives. Once the job was done, he had every Mewman executed so Septarsis’s location remained hidden.

This enters Septarsis into its dark age under a brutal dictatorship. Many Septarians flee from their homeland because this man, frankly, does not care about the wellbeing of the people at all. He only cares about power, prestige, and revenge. It’s awful. It was not until 209 years later that Seth and Zarina gathered enough of a revolt and killed him. Seth has to pick up the pieces and restore Septarsis to its former glory. He is unanimously proclaimed a hero.

Under Supreme Lord Seth, Septarsis flourishes. He reinstates many of the democratic elements from eons past, including re-instating the Assembly (except he refers to it as the Septarian High Council). The SHC works similarly to how the Assembly did before; it’s just that Seth is the figurehead, with Zarina right underneath him. The SHC and legislation rotate every 25 years, but terms themselves last about 50 or so. They also must be elected to be able to join, but they can come from anywhere.

Seth makes it known that if the Septarians are ever dissatisfied with him as a ruler, he will step down and give way to a new leader or even allow Septarsis to fully return to its true democracy. However, that hasn’t happened. With the Mewman situation at the forefront of everyone’s mind, and a leader who actively does things about it, he’s still held up to the same status. He’s a great leader, far better than his mother, and compromises with his people if they’re in any way dissatisfied. He plays an active role in everything he can and puts power primarily in the hands of the people. Seth can’t just make rules whenever, it has to go through the population and SHC.

He’s a great leader, no matter his own personal views or what Crescenta’s smear campaign wanted to perpetuate. There’s a reason he only lost by a small margin during that rigged election. His reputation as a fair and just leader has spread far beyond Septarsis.

It’s this weird mix. You have Seth and his family with royal-esque titles, you have an elected council of people (who Seth leads) who pass ordinances and laws after voting, and the people themselves not only have opportunities to join the SHC but also are directly involved in voting for things. It’s closest to a republic I guess…. except the leader doesn’t need to be consistently voted in nor does he have limited terms and has been ruling for centuries atp because he’s just the best choice for the job and no one else comes close to competing with him. It functions well, but there’s no clear definition or label for the type of system they have.

I hope that explains it.. somewhat. It’s definitely not full encompassing because there’s a lot of aspects and roles in governments and political systems, but that’s the jist of it, an overview if you will.

Idk how clearly I explained everything but I’ve been looking over this all day and I think this encompasses my vision for the most part.

[mikkaeus]

in memoriam by alice winn - a review

(i completely forgot to write this after i finished even though i planned the whole thing out in my head so here’s like a shittier version of what i remember currently, copy pasted from my storygraph)

(also can i just say i love this cover it reminds me of like 2015 tumblr graphics)

5/5 stars, no notes. 

It has been a while, possibly years, since a book has dug its claws into my heart so quickly and resolutely. I'd been anticipating this for a while as someone who was obsessed with the author's fics, though the description had me a little wary because I'm not much of a war books person. But I needn't have worried - honestly Alice Winn could probably write about anything and I'd devour it because her writing style and her characters and their stories are always so exquisite no matter what setting they're in. I could've finished this in one sitting if I didn't force myself to put it down and attend to Real Life responsibilities. Needless to say, I cried, and was also shellshocked and possibly dead after I finished, from the sheer emotional journey I'd gone through in the past few hours. My absolute favourite thing is how strongly I emotionally connected with the characters, regardless of whether I related to them or not. I also loved how much depth they have and the journey they go on throughout the book. I loved that the characters or their relationships are so authentic in their imperfections (climbing the walls at the ending). I suspect a lot of this is due to the characteristic flair to Winn's writing that lends emotional vividness to everything she touches. The interweaving of unfiltered tragedy and dry humour, the perfect balance between literary enough for the prose to be interesting in itself without ever being too convoluted to interfere with smooth reading, just the overall VIBES... I want to crawl inside and live in it. Also, I loved the characters outside of Ellwood and Gaunt, and the friendships they had with each other. Winn gave them an impressive amount of depth within the relatively short space,  leaving me heartwarmed and devastated in equal measures. tldr if you're looking for a book to emotionally fill the holes in your soul and also kick you in the guts and also make you forget you exist then this is the book for you <3

[foxglovecove]

Alright currently obsessed with this for the moment…my idea for the Headless Horseman’s backstory

Name: Thomas Amsler

Nationality: German (state of Hesse-Cassel)

Age (at time of death): 21

Still working out the details but so far what I have is below the cut:

Dates might have to adjust once I do more research…

His family is poor and to help once he’s of age (17) he joins the German Army. A few years later his unit is selected to go fight in some revolution or another in the British Colonies. All members of the unit are promised a large bonus at the end of the war and they’re shipped out in 1780 (3 years before the end of the American Revolution, he’s 18).

The unit is excited to get to fight in a “real war” and their spirits are high when they arrive. That doesn’t last long and many of the unit end up dying or deserting. Not Thomas though. While he could care less about the British “cause,” he knows his family needs the money the soldiers were promised so he sticks to it.

Meanwhile during one particularly bad winter in 1782 his squad is sheltered in a farm with a family that’s supposedly loyal to the British. The family consists of mom, dad, two young boys, and three daughters (all to be named later).

I can’t not have romance in anything I do so of course Thomas and one of the daughters fall in love. Unfortunately another soldier, one of the British also sheltering there for the winter, has taken a liking to this same daughter. The daughter has been mildly interested but mostly as a flirtation, no real feelings involved unlike those she develops for Thomas.

British soldier (also to be named later) doesn’t like that Thomas has “taken his girl” (he hasn’t). There is a one-sided rivalry between the two. Thomas tries to befriend the guy but the guy is an ass.

Cut to August 1783, one of the last few battles of the war. Thomas and the daughter have secret plans to marry once it’s over and stay in the colonies regardless of who wins, though by now they’re both rooting for the colonists to win independence. The British soldier has found out about their plans and will do anything to stop them so he can marry her instead.

The battle is almost over, British soldier sees the canon and that Thomas, atop his horse, is right in its path. He doesn’t warn him and that’s when tragedy strikes. The canon ball kills Thomas and the horse.

After the battle is over Thomas’ best friend goes to the farm to tell the daughter what happened. She’s devastated but she also can’t let go. She insists on seeing Thomas’ body but by then he’s been buried so she demands he take her to his grave.

She requests she be left alone to say goodbye. She stays for a while, long after the sun has gone down. She grabs some things from the satchel she’s brought with her. They’re tools for a ritual. She knows she can’t bring him back but she can make it so that he’s not really gone. She has dabbled in witchcraft, taught by her mother, is part of a long line of witches.

She does the ritual but nothing seems to happen. She’s in tears but finally says goodbye.

Cut to a year later…

1784

She’s now being courted by the evil British guy. She doesn’t know he could’ve prevented Thomas’ death. Her father makes the match despite her and her mom’s protests. She is miserable but resigned to her fate. Her heart still belongs to Thomas but she knows she’ll be secure in the match with the British soldier.

It’s approaching the anniversary of the day Thomas died and weird things start to happen. People claim to see a shadowy figure riding through the forest.

October, two months later: The family is hosting a Harvest Dance and British soldier announces his engagement to the daughter at the party. Everyone is cheering and having a good time when a huge gust of wind and rain blows open the barn doors, blowing out all the candles. The music stops, people are trying to find matches and ways to light the candles again.

A silhouette approaches through the storm. A man riding on a horse. At first people pay no mind to it, just another neighbor who’s come to join the festivities. But, as the figure gets closer, a terrified silence falls over the group for the rider appears not to have a head. In his left hand is one of the Jack-o-lanterns that decorated the path to the barn.

Someone screams as the figure hurls the pumpkin at the British soldier, burning him and knocking him out cold.

The horse rears up and a ghostly shriek echoes as the figure turns and rides off towards the forest, disappearing into the darkness.

The daughter tries to run after but is stopped by her mother.

“What have you done, child?” says the mom, horrified.

“What I had to do,” she replies. “I couldn’t let him go.”

[inactive-maelstroem]

References to Goncharov in Brokeback Mountain

The 1973 movie Goncharov has gained its status as a cult classic partially due to the relationship between the titular Eugene Goncharov and Andrey (alias The Banker), which many fans view as romantic despite the director having denied it multiple times in interviews. Over the years, a community has formed around the presumed relationship, dedicated to writing and sharing fanfiction where the pair are romantically and/or sexually involved; the pairing remains in the top charts since the 80's. Brokeback Mountain (2006) has similarly spawned a lasting fanbase. Unlike in Goncharov, there can be no question as to the nature of the relationship between the protagonists, however, the movie contains several references to the Martin Scorsese picture.

Moose. The protagonists of Brokeback Mountain shoot a moose for meat in a seemingly insignificant scene in the beginning of the movie, however, it parallels the assassination of a rich mobster in Goncharov. The money of the man is the "meat" gained by Eugene and Andrey, although they end up paying a high price for it.

Ennis' breakdown. After a summer with Jack, seeing him drive away makes the protagonist drop down to his knees in an alleyway, banging his fist on the wall. The scene is shot in a specific manner: the viewer looks out of the dark alleyway, only seeing the man's silhouette. A very similar shot is present in the beginning of Goncharov, after the man himself decides to leave for Italy, leaving Andrey behind. Although he's just as devastated, there's no crying, no visceral emotion - Eugene only sits leaning against the wall, smoking a cigar. What really gives this reference away is both men's response to a staring passerby: "what are you looking at?"

Reunion observed. There are many similarities between Katya and Alma, from their relationships with the protagonists to the color palettes in their wardrobes, but the most glaring of all is revealed when Ennis and Jack are reunited after four years apart. They're shown pressing each other to the wall and kissing hard, which is when Alma thinks to look out the window. A look of confusion, then anger and sadness, appears on her face, very similar to Katya's reaction to Andrey and Eugene’s reunion. They are, of course, not kissing, merely talking and laughing as the shot pans away from them to Katya playing the piano, the music drowning out the conversation. Her expression may be interpreted as fear for the future now that the criminal couple are back together, but shippers prefer to view it as jealousy.

“It can be like this forever” is a phrase Andrey utters in the famous smoking in the rain scene, referring to the life him and Eugene could share. Much like in Brokeback Mountain, this dream never comes true - both couples cannot live together in a world that does not accept their love. This is the whole point of the 2006 film, its tragedy, and while the Scorsese classic is a gangster movie first and foremost, an argument can be made that the many atrocities committed in Goncharov could’ve been prevented if the two protagonists were allowed their peaceful life. It is interesting to note that Ennis and Eugene have radically different approaches to the situation: the former stays completely passive, perfectly illustrated by the quote “if you can’t fix it, then you gotta stand it”, while the latter turns to mindless violence in the name of his beloved.

***

In conclusion, the similarities between Goncharov and Brokeback Mountain are too numerous to be unintentional. Perhaps it is the director’s way of highlighting the tragic nature of the story, hinting at his opinion on the relationship between Eugene and Andrey or simply celebrating the complex and exhilarating Martin Scorsese classic. 

[realhousewives-fan]

The Apology is Not Good Enough

At the end of the season I sit with a sensation of defeat. 

It could’ve been a powerful season of sisterhood, and it’s unfortunate that it ended like this.

It’s devastating yet inevitable that Lenny Hochstein’s mother would turn against Lisa Hochstein.

Frankly it was shocking to me that she had her support for so long. It was no shock to me that she was blaming Lisa for Lenny’s disrespectful actions.

There is no excuse for what Lenny has been doing to Lisa. Lenny has been manipulating Lisa and the media. 

It’s no surprise that he’s manipulating his mother as well.

But loyalty often sway to wherever the money is, blood be damned.

And the powerful portrait of sisterhood that was forged in Lisa’s tragedy, has been fractured after their trip to Bahamas.

Alexia Echevarria and Marysol Patton are not so willing to forgive and forget what Adriana de Moura said, and I understand that. They’re not ready.

Guerdy Abraira arranged an event for them to address their issues in hopes of moving on, but Alexia and Marysol were not interested.

I think Marysol has a better reason to be so against forgiving Adriana.

With Alexia it was a horrible comment, but nothing they couldn’t be able to move past.

Alexia is still in her feelings and it’s understandable since her pain and trauma was used against her in a discussion of Adriana’s trivial injury.

It was disrespectful. But it’s nothing they can’t get over given time. It all depends on how Alexia view respect though.

And the fact that her best friend is Marysol doesn’t exactly make her more inclined to forgive Adriana. 

She places Adriana’s comment within the mess with Marysol’s ex.

What Adriana did to Marysol is worst than bringing up Frankie Rosello’s accident. She reached out to Marysol’s ex, on a dating app.

What was the reason for doing that? That’s a huge red flag to me. I wouldn’t be able to trust her again.

People might think that they’re treating her harshly, but at this point she needs to prove herself worthy of their trust.

[lgist]

When things aren’t going your way, what is your emotional reaction? Do you stay calm, wait it out and see what happens next? Do you say to hell with it as your frustration at the situation itself cannot be swayed? Or do you shut down? Unable to keep upright as the scenario sends you off the plank, to a deep and negative spiral. Things often do not go our way, it’s a fundamental part of life. Great times get even better when we realise how much worse it could’ve been. Times when we are feeling low are only made worse by this fact. We imagine the outcomes of life to where we are not here. The decisions we could’ve made. The time wasted doing something we now find non important. We are never getting it back. I’ve spoken about the sadness and the grief and the regret that comes from that, from imagining a life better than yours but anger and frustration, those emotions are slightly different. Anger, similar to sadness and grief, is inherently a negative emotion. Like the atomic bomb, it burns everything it touches, leaves a mark after it’s done and we’ll wonder in the future how and why did it ever come to fruition. For anger is momentary in its existence, it will come so fast we cannot prepare for its devastation in our thought process. After it has demolished enough, it will leave in a trail of fire and we will look upon the ashes, wondering if it was necessary. Where anger will deviate from sadness is what it seeks to destroy. Anger is anger, it is angry at the world for what it has done to you, it will place your ego at the forefront of pressing issues in your life and blame, outwardly, everyone and everything but yourself. Sadness is sadness, the blame falls to you, the responsibility falls to you, everyone and everything can’t do a thing to help you, you are alone. You will find that these 2 things mix into an incredible concoction of negativity.

When you are helpless in your journey of self actualisation, with no sense of direction, you will blame both the world and yourself for how it has gone so far. Anger will arise, so frustrated with how things are working out for you, it cannot dream of anything else but annihilation. Sadness will surface, it will beg for you to give up, it will convince you that you were useless in the eyes of life. I feel this problem, while it does exist for everyone, young people are especially at risk. It is how families will lose their children just after sending them off to school in the morning. These children, actual children, will wake up one morning, already so fed up and so frustrated that the attention from a tragedy is good enough. Finally they are seen, finally their emotions have taken form, finally their pain is shared. So while we talk about pressing topics such as gun control, we forget to ask, what can drive a child, barley breaching their teens, to murder? What can drive such hatred, such anger, such negativity to oneself and those around them? What can rip away the innocence of a child that then allows them to rip away that same innocence from others? The perfect concoction of negativity. There is not much to do once someone has taken their first sip, they are now addicted to it, foaming at the mouth for the next hit.

For while anger and sadness are destructive and almost inescapable once they have taken you down, inch by inch, they remain the easy way out and our minds are lazy, it will always look for the easy way out. A method of looking at the world through the lens of blame and regret. I cannot be happy because person x doesn’t love me. I cannot be happy because person y doesn’t agree with my university choice. I cannot be happy because. We will fill our minds with reasoning and rationale for our sadness and anger, for what? Because it is easier than actually facing it and moving on. We would rather sit and sulk rather than actually do something about it. I am guilty of this too. I had a dream once, this beautiful dream I wished to have never ended, where my life is how I pictured it to be. Like my brain played this prank on me, elaborate in its execution and extremely effective in its realism. A dream so real, I forgot about my actual life in it. Imagine my ruin when I woke up. I had lost perfection and returned to my imperfect life. Tears smeared my pillow case as I realised what had happened and rather than getting up and immediately chasing my dream, I did what I did the day before. Strange isn’t it? How I can be shown perfection and even its appearance did nothing to actually motivate me. So, if it’s not perfection I am seeking, what is it? What do I want? How do I want it? When do I want it to happen? Unanswerable and rhetorical, so I will just sit in this pool I have created for myself. That is the catch of this deadly concoction, sacrifice your endless and tiring search for happiness and blame those around you for it being this way, this way you need not ask difficult and unanswerable questions, you can finally relax.

When it is the exact opposite of relaxation you will find. While yes the questions will subside and you will finally find some grounds for why things are the way they are. Will you be at peace? No. Conflict within yourself will surely rise as your rationale keeps eating away at you. That part of yourself that dreams for more, that awakens when you sleep, will always be somewhere within that recess we call a consciousness. An internal conflict that only has one winner. It is like in fiction, where they will have the demon and the angle on either shoulder. For if the angel should win, inner peace is achieved and if the demon should win, a gravestone of a person far too young will be your legacy. I feel as if our minds are constantly toying with us, it knows what it should do and yet it still begs for more and more questioning. Endless questioning. The whys, the whats, the ifs. Sometimes you just get sick of it and miss the entire point of asking questions in the first place. No matter how you think we were brought to creation, creationism or evolution , one fact remains true, we are here. We are here to be. Present always, never a second too late or early. Free will bestowed upon us, we are free to ask, ask as many questions as we want. However, in our infinite lines of questioning, we forget that an even greater amount of answers exist and it is the root of negativity. Unanswerable and rhetorical questions eat away at our minds' ability to be happy for we feel a great failure in being unable to answer questions, especially questions about ourselves. The questions themselves are unanswerable because of their variance, you could answer the same question about yourself entirely differently on a different day. It is what makes the answer feel so empty, for it exists in this plane of subjectivity and for some odd reason, we as humans chase objectivity. The undeniable truths. So rather than being happy in the ability to ask questions we suffer at the hands of a varying and empty answer. I plead with you today to be happy with a multiple choice question, for you are able to ask again another day. Perhaps the objective answer to you is murky now, covered by your own self-pity and blazing anger, patience is truly a virtue, even in the long road to happiness. Keep asking questions, keep giving new answers. Until you find the objective truths about yourself. Dealing with anger and sadness is hard, inquiring about their existence is harder. Perhaps all my answers here today are subject to change and I’m all right with that. The first and last question we will always ask ourselves at the beginning of this journey and at the very end; Are you happy?

___________________

Emotional as always, I love a bit of melodramaticism in the morning. What am I if not melodramatic? Reader, even I am still searching for my objective truths, it might take my entire life but at least I have my entire life to ask away. How many questions do you think we ask on average in a lifetime? Must be thousands, it will be for me anyway. And yes, I do get angry and I do get sad sometimes. I do not take my own adviceon , even though it’s really good advice :p. This blog isn’t meant to be some self help course, I’m just trying to get my ideas of life on paper. Perhaps I should adventure into a deeply negative source, one without a happy ending. An experiment of sorts. What do you think? Let me know. Much love - S

[lake-archive]

Scene 23

AO3 Link

Fandom: Persona 5

Character (main): Anja / Luka (OC), Ann Takamaki

Scene 22 - Masterlist - Scene 24

CONTENT WARNING!

This chapter deals with the following topic(s):

Suicidal Thoughts

Suicide Attempt

 “Hey! Watch out! ”

It was a reflex for Ann. It just had come to her, images flashing back to that time… When Shiho had been on the rooftop and– Ah, she would rather not think about it. 

Back then she had been helpless. She was trying to hurry but in the end she had not made it in time. One may say that it could have been worse. After all, Shiho was on the road to recovery. But that didn’t change anything! Ann had not helped her friend at the time and it could have all ended in tragedy, becoming devastating. 

So when she had seen a young female heading closer to the rails Ann couldn’t help but sneak close behind. She had an uneasy feeling about all of this. Not to mention that this brunette had squeezed herself through the crowd without a care in the world, ignoring anyone who lost a word at this moment. Anyone who said something or looked at her. She kept moving forward, step by step. 

At a point Ann decided to start sprinting when noticing that the aim had been the rails themselves. It was a short yet sudden rush, Ann having had no time to apologize as she squeezed herself through the crowd. And just before the brunette could have taken another step into her demise the young girl grabbed this one by the wrist abd pulled her backwards with all her might. 

The other female turned towards Ann a few moments later, only staring for a few moments. The face felt familiar yet not too familiar all the same. The blonde had seen it before, yeah, but probably just for a fleeting moment if anything. Nothing major or anything like that. There was no word exchanged for a short while, the girl looking bewildered… That was until the sudden embarrassed smile.

“Whoops, I’m clumsier than thought. That’s a new one.” Shevresponded, the laughter a little forced. 

Ann wanted to burst out for a moment. This wasn’t a laughing matter! At all! Then again the laugh felt really out of place all the same… “D… Do you have any idea what could’ve happened!? You were—”

“I was too lost in thought again, wasn’t I? But this time it could’ve cost me my life, right? I’m more than aware.” The brunette responded, calmer and toning down on her carefree tone. “Sorry, I shouldn't have made you all worried. I will watch out next time.”

This… Ann couldn’t put her finger on it but this didn’t feel like ‘ being lost in thought ’. Even if only for a moment those movements were odd. Yet she had no words against that either. The other female would just end up insisting. But that didn’t make Ann feel at ease either.  She really didn’t know what to say to that honestly… Was this girl serious or– 

“Oh, your face looks familiar!” The brunette suddenly brought up with a gasp, then suddenly started to eye the blonde closely if not curiously. It was a mood change and as if she wanted to change the topic. But all Ann could do was to go along with it. “I’ve seen it before…”

And then she seemed to think, very much so. Very hard in fact. Or at least she pretended to do so. Until she took a step backwards again and said: “Oh, right! At the TV Station, right~? With two other guys! You’re a Shuujin student, aren't you?”

The TV Station? Wait, was there someone who looked like her? Ann tried to remember someone who looked like the brunette… Someone… Someone… Some– 

“Ah! I think I saw you with a camera man there.” She then remembered..It wasn’t long so she never thought much of it to be honest. “Are you working there or something?”

“No, nothing like that. I was just there to support a friend behind the scenes.” She responded. “Anyways, the name’s Anja. And you are?”

“Oh, r… right. I’m Takamaki Ann.”

“Tamaki–San?”

“Takamaki!”

“Takakami–San?”

“Uhm… You can just call me Ann if you want.”

“Huh? Did I–” Anja responded, a bit surprised at first before scratching the back of her head. “Whoops, again. I’m not good with names, sorry! I’ll try my best to remember.”

Yet before any other word could be exchanged the sound of another train arriving echoed right behind them. Anja turned in one go, then gasping. “Ah, that’s the one I gotta take! See you Ann–San! And again, thank you!” Then Anja disappeared in a rush, running over and entering the train. Ann would have let it be… If she didn’t notice that something had dropped out the other one’s pocket upon turning around. Before Ann could call her out however the brunette was gone. So all that was left was for Ann to pick up the note. Maybe if she met Anja again by chance she could give it back to– 

And yet when turning that note around the first words had unsettled her for a moment, staring at it in disbelief… 

‘ Bye everyone ’

Scene 22 - Masterlist - Scene 24

[dingleberrytimes]

New ‘Gunshot Wound Challenge’ is Hospitalizing Thousands of Teens on TikTok

NATIONWIDE - A new viral trend on the social media platform TikTok has been hospitalizing thousands of teens and has been causing both parents and experts alike to speak out against the challenge, dubbed the “Gunshot Wound Challenge”, in which the person doing it gives themselves a self-inflicted gunshot wound with a gun of their choice.

The challenge, which started last month with a viral video which has now been confirmed to be staged, has inspired thousands of teens to attempt the challenge for real, the only difference that these teens are using real loaded guns, turning this trend into something more of a tragedy.

The challenge has already claimed the lives of six teens, ranging in age from 17 to just 13, and has hospitalized thousands of others, many of which are in critical condition. TikTok has responded by age restricting all videos on their platform using the hashtag “#gunshotwoundchallenge”, but many believe that it’s too little too late.”

“I lost my daughter from this challenge, which has been devastating for me and our whole family, especially since it could’ve easily been prevented.” Shayla Walker, mother of 15 year old Denise Walker who lost her life due to the Gunshot Wound Challenge, tearfully expressed to reporters. “She had no clue what she was getting into - she was just following the crowd. There was no warning that it would end up like this, because all of the other teens in the videos seemed to be fine. TikTok needs to be held accountable for these videos that encourage potentially deadly activities without proper warning. That way, not another parent will have to end up in my position.”

And held accountable TikTok will be, as Shayla along with 13 other parents of victims of this challenge have banded together to file a lawsuit against TikTok for 40 million dollars for the injuries or deaths of their children, which they feel like could’ve been prevented if TikTok put a proper warning before these videos. TikTok has declined to comment on the lawsuit.

[asassydork]

Chapter 4: The Open Road

Story: Shadows of the Forgotten

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Following the devastating twist at the diner, the couple sets out to carve a new path. A much different path from where they started leading towards a place they never planned on going. When tragedy strikes, they’re forced to really consider where their strengths sit.

TW: MDNI, violent car accident, head trauma, blood,

I sat on the floor behind the passenger seat staring out the opposite window at the sky. Every once in a while I could see the tops of trees or nearby skyscrapers as they zipped by. I was in a trance-like state with all of my emotions having left me. I was depressed in a way I haven’t been depressed in a really long time. It was something I wasn’t looking to share with Hal or anyone else. But I wasn’t given a choice.

Hal never turned the radio on, so the long ride was held in silence. It was suffocating in a way silence has never truly felt before. It was accompanied by the fact that he didn’t glance over his shoulder at me. Not once. He was just somewhere else driving on autopilot. The reality of the situation weighed heavily on me because I glanced at him more than a few times, wondering how so much could’ve been going wrong from the beginning and I didn’t see it. The thing that bothered me the most was wondering if his big secret was what was keeping him from me. It explained something that I’ve been trying to justify as my own problem in all of this. The reason we weren’t together might have had everything to do with the guilt he wouldn’t share with me. But I wasn’t sure that we could ever move past it. It was going to take a lot of forgiveness that I wasn’t entirely sure I had inside of me. I’ve been so lenient and eager with him that I never once considered he was the problem.

I loved him. My Hal. Whatever small piece of that version of him was real. Knowing all of this didn’t change that. It wasn’t just going to dissolve. I’d have to accept this fiery hatred in my chest but I would always love that man. Whoever he really was. It made me realize that it was more than just breaking up. It was grief and mourning. It was as painful as if he had died because somehow, some part of him did. The expectations of who we would both be had died. We weren’t ever going to know those people.

I stared out the window for hours, unable to think with the fog that filled my head. Depression was an evil thing, especially when it latched onto a trigger. I had drifted off after a certain point, curled up in a ball with my head on my knees and my arms wrapped around myself. It wasn’t a comfortable sleep but my body gave in to an unexpected exhaustion. The hormones in my system weren’t as bad when depression settled in. I just hadn’t been prepared to sleep on the floor behind the seat like that.

The accident.

It happened like a scene out of a movie. Slowly but all at once.

I didn’t have time to brace myself for what happened because I had fallen asleep. So, when the other vehicle came barreling into us, I was likely in one of the worst spots in the car. I should’ve been in a seat with a seatbelt on but the dangers never crossed my mind. I was ignorant in the worst way, letting depression rule my decisions.

The airbags in the doors exploded throughout the car on both sides because the other vehicle was going so fast that it threw us. The car rolled once and spun out.

Shards of glass danced in the sunlight as they rained down on me the second the vehicle encroached upon the exterior of Hal’s little car. We’d gotten hit on the back driver’s side so the whole door was almost fully inside the car with me. The groan of metal bending irregularly wasn’t much of a sound because my ears were already ringing.

I kneed myself in the head when my whole body was thrown backwards. I then hit the back of my head on the door from the force of it and was shot back because of the airbag going off. I tasted blood in my mouth from biting my tongue unexpectedly. The scent of it filled my nose too, which meant I probably had a nosebleed from where I kneed myself.

Hal wasn’t expecting to get hit by how fast we’d been moving. It sent the car into a single roll that caused me to fly from my spot on the floor into a spiral where various points of my body hit the roof before hitting the floor again when the car surprisingly righted itself. But that wasn’t the end of the commotion.

The car spun as debris continued to fly around us. Every small object including both of our phones had gone airborne and then began whipping around. I didn’t break anything but I very easily could’ve. I honestly probably should’ve walked away with a few broken bones.

With the airbags deployed, there was more debris active within the shell of the car. All of the windows had smashed inward from the roll and the roof had crunched in overhead. Hal was hooked in so he didn’t move around as much as I did. But I could smell his blood in the air right along with mine. I spit when the car stopped moving, almost coughing to get the taste out of my mouth. I didn’t like the idea of biting my tongue but I didn’t feel the pain of it. My head pounded to its own beat and my ears were definitely ringing.

The sun blinded me whenever I tried to peel my eyes open. The pain in my head was excruciating by that point, leaving me to navigate the car blindly. It took effort to untangle myself from the weird position I had fallen into to get towards Hal. Our entire fight had to be behind us by now. Life and death demanded it.

I reached for him over the center console, hoping that he was at least conscious enough to know that I was right here. His hand gripped my forearm tightly, claws pressed against the fabric of the hoodie over my arm. Panic was evident in the action. I grabbed firmly onto his arm and used it to help hoist myself off of the floor. His second hand grabbed me as he unbuckled himself from the seat, pulling me over the center console towards him. I reached for his head, brushing my nose against his as he pulled me onto the passenger seat.

I kissed him lightly, seeking reassurance and amends. He surprised me when he kissed me back firmly, sipping at my lips with fear in his actions. Blood covered my face and I could still taste it in my mouth. It made me feel bad because I hadn’t meant to get hurt.

He sat me in the passenger seat, brushed a hand over my head to find each of the spots where it hurt. It was a quick assessment that I winced and hissed about. He brushed his hands down my back and across my arms to see if there was anything else to worry about before reaching past me to open the door and carefully climbing into the passenger seat with me to get us out of the car because the whole driver’s side was likely deformed. I curled around him instinctively as he moved to get out, knowing I likely wouldn’t be able to stand up. He curled me against him and tucked my head against his neck protectively as he moved carefully to stand up outside of the car.

It was automatically behind us. A healing moment that I wasn’t anticipating seeing for a few days.

“No hospital,” I whisper, using the collar of his shirt to clean my face.

“No hospital,” he whispers back, kissing my forehead.

He was limping, showing an injury in his left leg. He must’ve taken a serious hit from the car by the way he was walking. It made me feel bad that he’s carrying me. He doesn’t wander very far before sitting down, kissing my forehead again to comfort me.

I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d both end up in the hospital, now. The idea was a miserable one. An unsafe one. I didn’t want to be locked away again like that with them asking me so many questions. I knew my current condition and the scars on my face would lead them to question our relationship and if he’d do something like this, despite the clear signs it’s from an animal. An accident like this could really set us back financially and I hadn’t really thought about it until just now. But I also knew that despite everything, there was only us. I didn’t want to lose him. I didn’t want to lose our life together. I didn’t want to lose the family we planned to have. The future we mapped out for ourselves.

I also knew that with the scent of his blood and the throbbing inside my skull, that there was no way to actually avoid medical care. I just had to cross my fingers and hope that it would work itself out and that we wouldn’t end up exposing ourselves anymore than we have. I didn’t want to be held responsible for ousting an entire populace. It would be a death sentence.

“I really hit my head,” I whisper, rubbing my nose along his neck.

He massaged the soft spot at the back of my neck the way he usually does, without having to think. “Yeah, I heard it.” He tried not to laugh but he thought that it was at least a little humorous. It was a sign that things weren’t going to change. I hadn’t totally lost him. “Next time, put a fucking seatbelt on. Or I’ll hog tie you to the seat.” His tone changed when he spoke. A dark seriousness settling in.

“Believe me, never again,” I grumble, resting my head back against his shoulder.

He brushed a hand through my hair gently, not actually touching my head. The relaxation that settled over me in his arms made it hard to stay awake. I knew sleep was a bad idea but I couldn’t pull myself out of it. I just clung to him a little tighter and found myself drifting off, seeking release from the pain that was consuming my body. He stroked my back lightly after a while and didn’t seem bothered in the least that my consciousness wavered. He was my protector, whether or not we were on good terms. I needed to remember that. I needed to still be able to trust him.

“I love you,” he whispered after a while, finding a need to reassure me further.

But I was too far away by then to mutter anything back to him. Sleep had stolen me away once more. This time it was a darker, scarier kind of sleep that I couldn’t break away from. I knew that there was no easy way to wake up from a state like this.