#but also just the unvarnished truth

[m-has-a-blog]

I don’t think torture porn should be a pejorative. I think it should be something I could use to find porn featuring characters getting off on torture

[luxe-pauvre]

The study found that the most successful headlines don't convey facts, they promise you an emotional experience. The most common phrase among successful Facebook headlines, by nearly twofold, is "will make you,” as in "will break your heart,"«”will make you fall in love," "will make you look twice," or "will make you gasp in surprise" as above. This phrase is also highly successful on Twitter. Other top phrases include "make you cry," "give you goosebumps," and "melt your heart." Intellectual experiences cannot compete. Pause for a moment and think about what a huge shift this represents. Can you imagine The New York Times or your local newspaper with headlines that told you how you'd feel about each story, but not what the story actually entailed? […] What we are saying becomes more interesting than what is happening. All of this fluff and glitter does more than just dumb down the national conversation: It opens the door for bullshit. The unvarnished truth is no longer good enough. Straight-up information cannot compete in this new marketplace.

Carl T. Bergstrom & Jevin D. West, Calling Bullshit: The Art of Scepticism in a Data-Driven World

[mariacallous]

BERLIN — For the first time since the Nazi era, a far-right party in Germany has won the largest piece of the electoral pie in a state election.

Mainstream politicians and Jewish leaders are expressing alarm following Sunday’s elections, in which the anti-immigrant, Eurosceptic and pro-Russia Alternative for Germany party came out on top in the state of Thuringia, with 32.8% of the vote.

The 11-year-old party also earned second place to the traditional conservative Christian Democratic Union party in the neighboring state of Saxony. Both states are in the former East Germany.

“No one can brush this off as a ‘protest’ vote anymore,” Charlotte Knobloch, head of the Jewish community of Munich and Upper Bavaria, said in a statement late Sunday.

“Exactly 85 years after the start of World War II, Germany is in danger of becoming a different country again: more unstable, colder and poorer, less secure, less worth living in,” said Knobloch, a former head of the Central Council of Jews in Germany who herself survived the Holocaust in hiding.

The election came just over a week since a Syrian refugee was arrested after a deadly stabbing spree at a festival in the city of Solingen, and only days after Germany resumed its program of deporting refugees convicted of crimes. The knife attack, in which three people were killed, reignited popular anxiety about social unrest connected with the more than 1 million refugees admitted to Germany since 2015.

AfD stresses isolationism, takes an anti-EU and pro-Russian stance, and is accused of fomenting anti-Muslim sentiment. Some of its most extreme representatives have also belittled the Holocaust, saying that Germany has paid enough penance for the sins of an older generation.

Mass protests against the party took place earlier this year following revelations that the party had held a secret meeting at a lakeside villa to discuss plans to deport foreigners, including those who had become German citizens. Prominent neo-Nazis attended the meeting, according to the news organization that broke the story, inducing painful echoes of the gathering of Nazi leaders at nearby Wannsee in 1942 to devise a plan to deport and then murder Jews.

But while support for the AfD dipped in polls at the time, it soon rebounded and then accelerated. Now, it has achieved breakthrough results in state elections and raised concerns for next year’s national elections.

The party — whose Thuringen leader, Bjoern Hoecke, has been convicted twice of using a Nazi slogan to boost his party — is unlikely to form a ruling coalition in either state, since it is shunned by other parties. Still, it will have additional seats in the state legislatures and will have the numbers, particularly in Thuringia, to interfere with some governing decisions.

A far-left party, Sahra Wagenknecht Alliance or BSW, also produced notable results, coming in third in Thuringia with 15.8% of the vote. Last month, the current head of the Central Council of Jews in Germany, Josef Schuster, warned that the party, which has accused Israel of genocide in its war in Gaza, was “fueling hatred of Israel in Germany.”

The new election results bode ill for Germany’s future, Schuster said on Sunday.

“Can we recover from this hit?” Schuster wrote in a column in the Bild newspaper. “Our free society must not fall, especially in the face of Islamist terror. Unvarnished truths — honesty and sincerity — are needed, not populist pseudo-answers from radical parties.”

In Thuringia, the mainstream Social Democratic Party barely squeaked in, with 6.1%. Several parties, including the Greens and Free Democratic Party, received so few votes that they will not have any seats at all.

BSW also came in third in Saxony, with 11.8% of the vote, following the AfD with 30.6% and the CDU with a narrow win at 31.9%.

Younger voters overwhelmingly favored the AfD in this week’s elections, according to an NTV-Infratest exit poll.

“The survivors are asking themselves: ‘Didn’t we do enough to teach, to tell, to show?” Christoph Heubner of the International Auschwitz Committee, told the Guardian.

Some Jewish leaders say German politicians would do well to address the concerns apparently expressed by voters this weekend.

“The election results in the German federal states of Thuringia and Saxony are a clear wake-up call to the centrist parties in Germany to listen to the real concerns and fears of the people,” Rabbi Pinchas Goldschmidt, president of the Conference of European Rabbis, said in a statement. “When half the population votes for parties on the extreme fringes, their problems must be addressed openly and honestly.”

Sunday was an “insanely sad” election day, German Jewish journalist Samira Lazarovic wrote on Facebook. She said her 96-year-old father compared the outcome to the opening salvo of World War II, exactly 85 years ago.

Lazarovic said it was is urgent to reach out to younger voters. “It’s not that we know better than they; but we should shape the future together.”

Obviously, it wasn’t enough to take to the streets and protest against the far right, she added: “Populists all over the world have one thing in common. They mean exactly what they say and do everything they can to turn their words to deeds.”

[cerastes]

Do not apologize for posting the unvarnished truth that is the gospel of Amuro Ray.

I am a firm believer in the idea that if Lalah's Newtype Ghost learned to give Amuro some GODDAMN PERSONAL SPACE ONCE IN A WHILE instead of getting up in his business every time he even thought of going into space, he probably would have been like... at least 10% less fucked up by the time Zeta Gundam rolls around.

Maybe.

He also 100% deserves to be a dad, if not in some kind of AU of the Beltorchika's Children timeline, then at the very least should get to be a surrogate father figure to other kid/teen mecha pilots in SRW games.

Lalah wanted to keep him fucked up for real, there's no other explanation.

SRW!Amuro is always heartwarming to me because he gets to hang out with a lot of people that ground the shit out of him, so you end up with the same Best Pilot Ever skills, but with a far, FAR happier personality that his usual "holding onto his last shreds of sanity with bloody splintered fingers" self. It's legitimately a miracle he never really snaps again after '79, but goodness, you can tell that he's trying his hardest, hence his freezing cold, silent, focused rage, that seething ardor that burns and consumes without making a ruckus.

My favorite parts of SRW!Amuro interactions are when he's just chilling with the mechanics and support staff of other shows and they are like "wait holy shit, why is this Super Ace Pilot so good at engineering and robotics?" that's his passion! That's what he actually loves and does! He just wants to build round little fellas, he just so happens to be Death Incarnate!

[frenchiefitzhere]

*highlighting every guest VA I've ever had on my channel* (and hoping to high heaven I don't forget someone) Series: Corollary

1. The OG guest VA: @teafairywithabook as Doctor Marigold "Goldie" Fletcher First Appearance: Episode 6 - The Reigning Queen of the Port Greene Historical Society 2. Ghostly as The Cashier in Episode 16 - Don't fall in with the wrong sort 3. @sweetnothingproductions as Nariah First Appearance: Episode 19 - Wrath 4. @thatlesbeanjew as Lori Bach (a.k.a. My TV Wife) First Appearance: Episode 23 - The unvarnished truth 5. @penncilkid as Avery Rush First Appearance: Episode 25 - Clarity 6. Honk as The Eminence First Appearance: Episode 31 - It will be over 7. @mr-laveau as The Medic in Episode 33 - Pancakes 8. @alexrayva as Penemue in Episode 36 - A bad influence ...and more to come!

Series: Ruby the Dragon Queen

@tepid-judas as The Magic Mirror First Appearance: Magic Lesson and Cuddles with a Yandere She-Dragon

@sweetnothingproductions as Appoline First Appearance: Flying with Your Dragon Queen to a Palace in the Clouds

@starlitangels as Flora Rowe First Appearance: Flying with Your Dragon Queen to a Palace in the Clouds

@alexrayva as Peregrine Rowe in Returning a Thankful Villager to Her Family

@chaotic-spaghetti-cowboy as Cyrus in Discovering a Seelie Princess

DadeAudio as "Grey" in Meeting Your Dragon-In-Law

CiceroSays as Tony in Entering The Dragon Lady's Lair [Mob Boss AU]

NoraASMR as Acamar in Seeking Wisdom from an Enigmatic Centaur

Series: The Waking Nightmare Series

This is my newest series, with only one featured guest so far: Mister @escapedaudios

(If I somehow forgot someone 😭, please just DM me and I will make the BIGGEST deal about recognizing you in a separate post! 🌻 I didn't include people who've done music collabs with me since that's a different kind of thing, but hey, that's not a bad idea! And I also plan to do a little tumbly post about all the amazing artists who have made thumbnail & promo art for me because they deserve that recognition too!) p.s. this is the part where I sneak in an announcement that I'm planning a new series for with a big ensemble cast, hoping to start this summer

[taylorswiftstylequestions]

Hi, I'm hoping this is a safe space for these thoughts because I feel if the #criticiallykind TSSers won't listen, nobody will. Pretty much, this isn't groundbreaking by any means, but I've begun to feel really… skeptical of how much I can love Taylor. Don't get me wrong, I have been a Swiftie for years. I own merch, CDs, know all the songs, everything. Taylor's music has helped me through so much and her songwriting remains unmatched in my mind. But I'm just beginning to question how much I can be a "fan" of her as a person. I'm questioning things like can why she charges astronomical prices for merch when she is literally a billionaire who could pay for herself and everyone she cares about to retire. I am questioning things like how she can watch her fans send literal death wishes to her exes and ex-friends and not try to intervene. I am questioning things like how she made a really big deal (rightfully so) about speaking her mind re: politics, but then has kept quiet on a whole host of recent political issues that her voice (and pocketbook) would make a large impact towards. I am not coming from a place of "she's a celebrity she has a responsibility to do things about these issues" but more from a place of "these are traits I would not appreciate in anyone I know personally, so why don't I think of Taylor in this critical lens?" I'm curious to know if you or anyone else has thoughts on this at all. As always, thanks Sarah for hosting a safe space for all of us.

Hi friend! I'm going to do my best to match your sincerity in this. I do want to believe and feel your internal struggle here on this topic and I don't want to diminish how it really can feel like a battle of minds and emotions. How do you come to terms with someone you care for disappointing you? How do you then layer that disappointment onto the sort of silly knowledge that that disappointment is aimed at someone not actively present in our immediate social circles as a real 'friend' (but who very often fills that emotionally comforting role that a friend often occupies with their art presence in your life - and that is worth noting + valuing!).

I think at its core, my advice to you is to question: Do you actually feel you need to love Taylor in order to love her music?

Do you need to measure Taylor's perceived actions and traits to the same extent and manner that you do of someone who you know personally? Do your feelings about those perceived demerits impact your ability to positively interact with her art?

I want to note that there aren't wrong answers to these questions. The only person who needs to answer them is yourself - and only you know the truth of what those answers might mean. I propose them to you as a starting point as you reassess your relationship with her and her music and what it all means to you. Again - no wrong answers and no judgement. They're questions that require introspection and honesty from yourself. You answer to you and you deserve your own, unvarnished truth.

With all of that, in my response I mostly wanted to center your confusion and the tough emotional uncertainty you might be facing. I didn't want to address through your concerns like a bulleted list of counter-arguments. Ultimately, this is about your relationship with those issues that matter to you and where you land on them. That said, if you feel like you might benefit or be interested from my talking through my stance on those things to perhaps offer alternative opinions that might explore a different side that might disagree with you I can also do so as a follow up. Just let me know!

I truly wish you the best friend. I know it probably has felt overwhelming and confusing to be dealing with this mentally. And then perhaps even scary to admit it and seek advice!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Hii! This may be a bit of an unusual question, but would you tell your (little) children that Santa Claus exists? Or do you think it is better to teach them the truth from a young age and not encourage any false beliefs?

I don't think I'd need to tell them about Santa Claus, as it's culturally pervasive. But I wouldn't ruin it for them, as I wouldn't want them to miss out on the fun. Nor ruin it for other kids. You can show a child, "hey, that's Santa Claus," the same way you would point at someone dressed as Aladdin at Disney Land and say, "hey, that's Aladdin." You don't have to claim he's actually real. You just go to see Santa each year and get a photo taken, the same way you get your photo taken with Goofy.

Keeping children's imaginations alive as long as possible is also a virtue as well - crushing a child with unvarnished reality at a young age is just unnecessarily cruel.

It's worth noting that we don't perpetuate the belief that Santa is real into adult and terrify children into sticking to believing it no matter what doubts they form about it. Nor do we make Santa a part of everyday life. Children figure out he's not real, and we don't contest it or claim it's a moral failing. It's a transient idea that falls away naturally.

And when they do start to doubt, we can say things like, "what do you think?" to help them examine what they understand or think is likely or real.

I don't think it's necessary to be obsessively honest with kids, especially younger ones. It's okay to fudge things, simplify them down, or leave out some details so they can comprehend them.

But it's important not to scare them with a false understanding of the world. Santa Claus isn't scary. Telling a kid about hell, or that if they eat all their Christmas candy, they'll balloon up and won't fit through the door any more is a great way to give them unhealthy fears and obsessions.

Ultimately, as a parent, your household is not a democracy, and not everything is a debate. My mother used to say, "I don't have time for three good reasons why." While a general preference for the truth - or the vicinity of the truth - is desirable, I think it's okay to pick your battles on what's important to be truthful about, and what ultimately won't matter in the long run. Lying about their "immortal soul" being damned to eternal hellfire is not one of those "won't matter" type of things.

And in more cases than I think people realize, the easiest thing is to not suggest anything at all to the child and ask what they think.

[jacensolodjo]

Total disclosure: Because of the book Babi Yar being republished in English on 4/18/2023, while also seeing certain posts on my dash, I was inspired to make this post.

If the USSR was a free and open utopia why were books like "Babi Yar" sent through so much censorship it would have probably been better it was never published at all?

Babi Yar aka Babyn Yar, you know, the massacre of (predominantly) Jews that was the largest singular event massacre of the Holocaust?

If the USSR cared about Jews why did they cover up and refuse to even so much as put a plaque of remembrance up for DECADES after? Oh sure 25 years after Babyn Yar they put up a placeholder plaque promising a new one. BUT they would clear away all the flowers and such from the PLACEHOLDER PLAQUE whenever foreign dignitaries finished their tour of the area. How, exactly, is that okay? How could they put effort into all of that and not even give a proper plaque of remembrance? (The answer, by the way, is this was the Soviet Union's standard MO. Western writer is visiting? Quick, hire a bunch of actors to live in this totally fake Ukrainian village to PROVE there is NO FAMINE.)

At some point you have to admit someone is in the wrong and it will always be the USSR.

(Note the book Babi Yar isn't just about the massacre but also tells the story of a young man up through the 1960s, including the Kreshchatik and 1961 disaster.)

The author himself regretted he published it with so much redacted from it due entirely to USSR censorship.

I suggest everyone take a look at the new publication of the book from this year. (Translated into English new publication I should say.) ((And yes I DO think it is well timed given the attack on the Babyn Yar memorial site last year.)) I should note, that the complete unredacted version is unvarnished truth, and thus some parts are hard to read. It is told from notes written by a boy barely into his teens and this should be kept in mind if you do read the book.

Note from the author of Babi Yar:

"Those who are interested will be able to have some idea of the conditions in which books are published in the Soviet Union, because—as I must stress again—my case was not an exception; on the contrary, it was quite ordinary and typical. Again, the version of Babi Yar distorted and deformed by the censorship was printed in millions of copies and appeared in translation in many languages. People who have read it already but who would like to know the full text need only read in this book the new sections, published here for the first time; especially since they contain the main sense of the book and are the reason why it was written."

(Please note that even though the author, Kuznetsov, was Ukrainian geographically and half Ukrainian from his mother, that he was a Russian speaker and thus used the Russian spelling of Babi Yar in addition to other words. He was well within his rights to use whichever toponym he desired. There is a HUGE difference in him using the Babi Yar form and a Western English speaker using it after knowing the preferred by actual marginalized Ukrainians form. Out of respect for Mr. Kuznetsov I use the form he used in his writing when talking about the book itself. As well as any other words from the book using the Russian spelling.)

Anatoly himself was not Jewish but he grew up right by Babyn Yar. Before and after the massacre there. The massacre also, it should be noted, did not just include Jews but ethnic Ukrainians, Russians, Rromani, the disabled (mentally or otherwise), etc., and Anatoly took great pains to make sure of this fact to anyone who read the book in its full form.

One more note from Anatoly about the book's current form: "In the summer of 1969 I escaped from the USSR with photographic films, including films containing the unabridged text of Babi Yar. I am publishing it as my first book free of all political censorship, and I am asking you to consider this edition of Babi Yar as the only authentic text. It contains the text published originally, everything that was expurgated by the censors, and what I wrote after the publication, including the final stylistic polish. Finally, this is what I wrote." (and I want to note he says PHOTOGRAPHIC FILM of the book which turned out to be a 478 page paperback so this meant he RETYPED ALL ~478 PAGES and had the presence of mind to actually PHOTOGRAPH IT knowing damn well what could happen to his manuscript otherwise. He sewed all of it into his jacket as he fled for asylum.)

(I want to say, foolishly giving people the benefit of the doubt, that when a writer is called a 'Soviet writer' that they think it is somehow all of them actually being allowed to write. When in fact 'Soviet' in front of writer only refers to the time frame they were writing. Many 'Soviet' authors often only had their work published either during the 80s -- the time of glasnost-- or after the Fall but they still get the moniker of Soviet. Or, commonly, like with Anatoly their work is so butchered by censorship as to be practically a different work altogether. It takes a certain amount of courage to publish anyway though, so Anatoly's efforts along with any other author that mirrors his experience should be held in high regard.)

A regime or system of government (since people have tried to 'well actually' about the word regime) that does not allow their people to poke fun or satirize or even tell an unflattering truth with no veiling is not really a regime/system of government one should be defending and yet. When you defend the Soviet Union, you defend their total disregard for Jews, Ukrainians, etc., while at the same time pretending to care about them (The Soviet Union was a Jewish utopia, honest! So long as you ignore all the pogroms and things like the Doctors' Plot that happened post-Holocaust because gosh darnit there were still too many damn Jews in the Soviet Union! Mother Russia, FIX! While also preventing them from going to Israel where they can actually, you know, live. Instead you just whisper about thinking of going to Israel and you got fired and became a 'leech' and yada yada some people waited a decade or more to be allowed to emigrate but hey whatever. Jewish Utopia.)

I leave with one more note from the author of Babi Yar:

"Time and again I set about the task of writing an ordinary documentary novel on the basis of my notes, but without the slightest hope that it would ever be published. Apart from that, something rather strange happened to me. I had been trying to write a straightforward novel in accordance with the rules of ‘socialist realism’—the only guide to writing which I knew and which I had been taught ever since my schooldays. But the truth of real life, which cried out from every line written in my child’s notebook, immediately lost all its vividness and became trite, flat, false and finally dishonest when it was turned into ‘artistic truth’."

And an example of something that was excised by Soviet censors, denoted by brackets paired with what made it into the first editions of the book:

"[I, Anatoli Vasilevich Kuznetsov, author of this book, was born on August 18th, 1929, in the city of Kiev. My mother was Ukrainian, my father Russian. On my identity card my nationality was given as Russian.] I grew up on the outskirts of Kiev, in the Kurenyovka district, not far from a large ravine the name of which—Babi Yar—was known then only to the local people. Like the other parts of the Kurenyovka it was our playground, the place where I spent my childhood."

(I wonder, what was so repugnant about stating he was half Ukr to cause it to be removed from the book entirely?)

[heyysupernova]

02: STRAIN

The sun hadn't even risen yet when Elena opened her eyes the next morning, the sound of the wind against the unstable structure of that cabin was her good morning greeting, the winter cold becoming more present every day.

She hadn't managed to sleep much; by her estimates, only a few hours had passed. The night before she had cried silently on that old mattress for hours until tiredness gave her a break in a dream that luckily, this time didn't include nightmares.

Although the cold, wind, and fog outside were clear signs of danger due to her low vision, she knew she couldn't ignore the hunger that made her stomach protest with every step. So, with her only warm clothes on, she decided to leave the room to prepare for that day's hunt.

As she left that small space, she tried not to make much noise, however, something she didn't know was that that man practically didn't sleep. He opened his eyes almost the instant the wood creaked beneath Elena's boots, and he watched her from the ground, a gaze certainly attentive and sharp, as if wanting to guess her next step.

She noticed how relatively clean his mask was compared to the night before. She also noticed he had used some items from her first aid kit, likely to treat the wounds on his face.

"How are your wounds?" she asked, walking directly to the tiny and precarious bathroom of the cabin, where she washed her face with the water she used to collect from the rains in a bucket.

Ghost was silent for a moment, as if he was considering the question for the first time, he knew that his body hurt and he was still deeply exhausted, but nothing compared to the way he had arrived at that place last night.

"Better," he answered simply, watching the way the woman left the bathroom and walked to the place where she had left her rifle, she analyzed it and put it on her back.

"You leaving?" he asked.

Elena nodded without turning to him. "I'm going hunting. Without food, you wouldn't make it through the forest without getting us both killed," she explained as she grabbed a small strap bag that she couldn't see the contents of. "If you're smart enough, you'll know that trying to leave will only end badly for you. Wait, rest, and don't make noise."

Her command was slow and clear, with a certain threat behind the last words. Ghost swallowed the urge to growl in disagreement, not to deny anything she said, because it was just the truth, but because e was taking orders from that woman, and furthermore, he knew that obeying her was the right thing to do given his condition.

As Elena silently approached the door, Ghost watched her closely. He would be lying to himself if he said that woman didn’t make him uncomfortable, giving him an out-of-place feeling, as if he were living with someone who might jump for his jugular the moment a wrong word slipped out.

It was usually the impression others had of him, the very thing that gave him power in moments of tension. But he didn’t like feeling that, this time, he was facing someone just as dangerously broken.

"Don't do anything stupid," she said finally, before walking out the door with a silence and speed that disconcerted him to a certain extent.

Silence filled the cabin, the natural sound of the cold only worsening the sensation that seemed to stick to his skin with every passing minute. Loneliness flooded even his deepest thoughts and feelings.

Ghost found his thoughts drifting back to the base—the noisy atmosphere, the soldiers trying to maintain a facade of normality even when the world had gone to hell. Men and women desperately clung to the rigid, regimented structure of military life as if it were their last vestige of stability, while the unvarnished truth remained unyielding and immutable.

He’d always considered himself lucky, in a way. Even before everything collapsed, he had no family, no real connections—nothing to mourn, no difficult adjustments to make. The only difference now was that the war raged outside the base’s walls instead of in distant lands.

'You're still the same, L.T.,' the Scottish sergeant he had met months before it all fell apart told him over the radio.

'Fight or die, Johnny. Same as always,' he had replied, just before one of those beasts leapt on him, leaving him wounded and out of contact.

“Fight or die” had been his mantra, serving him well—until now. Now, he found himself longing for the cold, impersonal safety of those barracks and even the bland oatmeal they’d eaten for weeks on end.

Sitting up slowly, grimacing from the sharp pain, Ghost began to dress. His movements were slow, methodical, driven more by habit than determination. He couldn’t afford to be without his gear, his weapons, or his military uniform. He needed to be ready for anything, no matter what.

But then, something changed outside the cabin. A low, unmistakable moan drifted through the air, sending a jolt through his body.

Ghost froze, his hand halfway through securing the last strap of his gear. The sound grew louder—heavy, shuffling footsteps. The unmistakable sign of a predator on the hunt.

He cursed under his breath, adrenaline surging through his body in a way he knew all too well. The creatures were getting closer, and his eyes locked onto the door—weak, almost rotting, barely hanging on its hinges. While they couldn’t get in without forcing it, he knew, from bitter experience, that things could change quickly. There was always the chance one of them might figure out how to open that unlocked door.

His heart raced as he stood, swaying slightly from the effort. He wasn’t ready for this. Not yet.

But something else gnawed at him: the loose end. The woman who, beneath all her hatred and resentment, had sheltered him in her home. She was still out there. He wasn’t thinking about orders or military protocol anymore. He wasn’t even thinking about his own safety. It was something that would keep him awake for nights to come—if he survived this day.

A low growl echoed from outside, drawing closer.

Ghost grabbed the knife from the table and moved toward the back window of the cabin. Carefully, he pried the wooden board off the window, wincing as pain shot through his body. He needed to get out, move, make sure she was safe. His body protested with every step, but he pushed on. He couldn’t leave her—not like this.

And then he heard it—the unmistakable sound of a door creaking open.

In the woods, Elena moved through the mist with the kind of silent concentration she had developed over the past few months. Each step was careful, and calculated, her senses alert to the slightest sound or change in the wind. The cold air bit at the exposed skin of her neck and hands, but she ignored it, her mind focused solely on the task at hand: survival.

The woods were silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or distant bird calls. The traps she had set the day before came into view, and to her relief, one had caught something: a rabbit. She approached with cautious optimism, a flash of satisfaction lighting her hardened face. Small victories like this had become rare, and each successful hunt meant another day of survival. She untangled the lifeless creature from the trap, feeling the familiar weight of it in her hands.

But as she stood there, holding her prize, a different weight weighed on her, a feeling of unease that had nothing to do with the cold or the hunger gnawing at her stomach. It was something deeper, something she couldn’t shake.

Her thoughts inevitably drifted back to Ghost. The image of him lying there, wounded but alert, flashed through her mind. She’d left him behind with a warning, trusting—no, hoping—that he wouldn’t make a move. But though she despised him for what he’d done, for the role he’d played in the death of her family, there was one uncomfortable truth she couldn’t ignore: she needed him. He was her only link to answers, to understanding what had happened at the base and why. It might even be her best chance of getting close to the military stronghold, where resources and perhaps even a glimmer of safety could still be found.

She clenched her jaw, pushing the thoughts away. It didn't matter. She'd survived this long alone. She didn't need it.

But as she made her way through the trees, rabbit in hand, that uneasy feeling only grew stronger. The silence of the forest, usually a source of comfort, now felt stifling—like the air itself was thick with unseen dangers.

Elena paused, her heart quickening. Something wasn’t right.

Then she heard it: faint at first, almost imperceptible. A branch snapped in the distance, followed by footsteps. But not human footsteps. She recognized the sound instantly—slow, heavy, and aimless. The unmistakable shuffle of the infected.

She tightened her grip on the rifle hanging from her shoulder, and her pulse quickened as she scanned the area. The fog obscured her vision, making it impossible to tell exactly where the threat was coming from, but she knew one thing for certain: she was not alone.

Panic began to tear at the edges of her mind. Memories of that day—of the chaos, the horror—flooded back. Her son’s screams, her husband’s lifeless body on the ground, the gunshots. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. She had survived then. She would survive now.

Elena quickened her pace, her eyes darting between the trees as the sounds grew closer. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but she knew she couldn’t make noise. She had to reach the cabin, to safety.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she pushed through the undergrowth, struggling to stay focused. But the fear—the raw, all-consuming terror—was rising again, threatening to overwhelm her.

Then, through the thickening fog, she saw it. The cabin came into view, but instead of the comfort it once promised, it felt like the ground was swallowing her whole. Her body froze at the sight—the door was open.

Her blood ran cold as she took in the scene. Was he gone? Had he decided to flee, even in his injured, weakened state? Her mind raced with possibilities, none of them good.

Without thinking, Elena crouched behind a tree, pressing her back against the rough bark, her chest heaving with quiet, shallow breaths. She strained her ears, listening for any sign of movement. The footsteps had stopped, but that didn’t mean she was alone. The infected could be lurking just out of sight, waiting, hunting.

A part of her knew her mind was working against her—that maybe the footsteps were real, or perhaps just tricks of her own panic, hallucinations from sleepless nights. But the sight of her home’s door wide open had triggered a state of alertness she hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since that dark day on the road.

She risked a glance around the tree, scanning the area near the cabin. The open door gaped like a wound—an ominous sign that something had gone terribly wrong. Her mind raced, even considering the possibility that she was walking into a trap, a cruel one.

Her instincts screamed at her to move, to run, but her body refused to obey. She could only manage two shaky steps forward, paralyzed by the flood of memories and the very real danger looming. She gripped the rabbit in her hand, its lifeless body a stark reminder of how fragile life had become.

Then, out of nowhere, something grabbed her from behind. Before she could react, a powerful arm yanked her back behind the tree, a strong hand clamping down over her mouth.

Her heart leaped in her chest as she struggled instinctively, but then she saw him: the soldier. He stood there, barely able to restrain her with his weakened body, his injured leg straining under the weight. Yet his eyes were sharp, filled with a grim determination that made her mentally thankful she wasn’t the focus of his attention.

He pressed her against his chest, keeping her silent, his gaze locked on the cabin. Elena was too stunned to react, feeling his breath against her ear through the mask on his face and the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

In that moment, everything fell silent. Then she heard it—the moan of an infected echoing from the open door of the cabin.

Her heart sank.

Ghost had expected her. He had heard them coming before she did. He wasn’t trying to escape; he was trying to protect her.

For a moment, Elena’s anger at him wavered, caught between her pride and spite, replaced by a deeper, primal fear. The beasts were too close—she could feel the danger pressing in from every corner of her mind.

Ghost didn’t say a word, but his grip on her tightened slightly, a silent command for her to remain still and quiet. Elena’s mind raced, but all she could focus on was survival.

And for now, that meant trusting him.

Elena’s heart pounded as she tried to process the situation. The soldier’s grip was firm but not harsh, his hand still covering her mouth to keep her silent. They couldn’t afford to make a sound. The groans grew louder and closer, sending a chill down her spine.

Ghost’s eyes, locked on the cabin door, flicked toward her when he felt two taps on his arm—Elena’s signal that he could ease his grip. For a moment, their eyes met. He saw how she had to tilt her head to look up at him, her cheeks and nose flushed from the cold. An unspoken understanding passed between them: despite everything, they were in this together now.

The infected’s footsteps echoed in the silence, drawing closer and faster from the cabin door to just meters away from the tree where they were hiding. Ghost tightened his grip around Elena, and she felt the tremor in his muscles, the weight of his exhaustion.

She squeezed her eyes shut, mentally bracing for the worst. Seconds stretched into eternity, each breath a battle to stay quiet and stay alive.

Suddenly, a crash shattered the silence: a growl, the grotesque sound of flesh being crushed, and something heavy hitting the ground.

Elena’s eyes flew open, her pulse hammering in her ears. The violence just meters away was chaotic and desperate, and they were barely shielded by the thin bark of the tree.

Ghost slowly released her, his hand trembling slightly as he lowered it to his side. When he spoke, his voice was a low whisper that barely reached her ears.

“We need to move. Now.”

But before they could take a step, a rasping, sharp growl echoed in both their ears. They understood immediately.

They were being stalked by an exception—an unusually intelligent infected, capable of acting violently against its own kind out of a twisted sense of self-preservation. This beast, driven by a hunger for violence, could smash a skull into the ground with brutal efficiency.

The air was thick with tension as Ghost and Elena froze for a fraction of a second, grasping the gravity of their predicament. This creature—a hunter more dangerous than the rest—had sensed them, perhaps even seen them.

Elena’s mind raced through possibilities, unable to settle on a clear course of action. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but Ghost’s grip on her arm tightened just enough to ground her, drawing her focus to him. His eyes, dark and intense behind the mask, conveyed a silent message: survival comes at a cost.

He didn’t need to speak. His exhaustion was palpable, the weight of his injuries dragging him down like an anchor. There was no way he could outrun the beast in his current state. But she... she still had a chance.

Her heart pounded as the memory of that fateful day flashed through her mind, the word 'Run!' echoing in her thoughts. It had been the last thing this man had shouted at her before everything collapsed, before she lost it all. Now, here they were again, facing the same moment of decision.

But this time, she couldn’t just run.

Ghost’s gaze shifted toward the forest behind them, his unspoken command still clear: Go, leave me. She knew he was ready to stand his ground, prepared to face whatever came with the quiet resignation of a soldier expecting the worst.

Why? she wondered. Why was he so willing to accept his fate? Why didn’t he ask her to stay and help him? And why was she even contemplating the possibility of helping him?

Elena clenched her fists, her jaw tightening in defiance. She couldn’t abandon him—not like this. Her hatred for him simmered beneath the surface, but it was now entangled with something more complex, and she loathed it. More than that, she loathed the idea of him sacrificing himself just to buy her time.

Survival comes at a cost, she thought again. But she refused to accept it. She wouldn’t allow it.

She gave Ghost a resolute look, one that conveyed she wasn’t leaving without a fight. His eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could argue, the creature let out a chilling screech that sliced through the cold air. It was close. Too close.

Elena’s fingers instinctively gripped the strap of the rifle slung across her back, her mind racing to devise a plan. She didn’t know if they could survive this, but if she was going to fall, she would do so fighting.

“I’m not leaving like this,” she whispered fiercely, her voice barely audible but clear enough for Ghost to hear.

For a moment, Ghost seemed poised to protest, but then something shifted in his stance—a subtle acknowledgment of her resolve. He gave a small nod, and with that silent agreement, they braced themselves for the inevitable.

The grotesque form of the creature emerged in their peripheral vision, its ravaged body moving with unnatural speed and precision. Its eyes, dark pits hiding hunger and rage, locked onto them with terrifying clarity.

It was too late to hand the rifle over to Ghost, so Elena took a deep breath, steadying her aim as the infected closed in, charging like a wild animal, despite its rotting state. Ghost, weighed down by exhaustion and injury, raised his knife in preparation.

The creature lunged at Elena, and a single shot rang out.

The next moments blurred into chaos. Elena’s shot hit the beast in the chest. It staggered, but only briefly. In that fleeting pause, Ghost saw the creature’s intent—it would lunge again as if nothing had happened, and he knew Elena wouldn’t be able to stop it. His body moved on instinct, shoving the beast aside with the weight of his own, falling with it. The infected growled, and in the blink of an eye, it was on top of Ghost, trying to sink its grotesque teeth into his covered face.

Elena’s heart raced as she reloaded, searching for another shot, but Ghost's movements were too swift, too entangled with the creature’s. She cursed under her breath, hands trembling, knowing she had one chance to make the shot count.

With a guttural roar, the creature grabbed Ghost’s head and slammed it into the ground. A grunt escaped the struggling soldier. Elena’s pulse spiked in panic, her breath catching in her throat.

No!

Without thinking, Elena lunged forward, slamming the butt of her rifle into the side of the creature’s skull with all the force she could muster. The impact made the infected stagger to the side, giving Ghost the opening he needed.

In one swift motion, Ghost drove his knife deep into the creature’s skull, twisting the blade with brutal efficiency. The infected’s high-pitched screams abruptly ceased, and it collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the sudden silence almost deafening.

Elena stood there, panting, her arms trembling from the adrenaline. Ghost staggered, leaning heavily against a tree for support, his breathing ragged and strained. The pain in his head left him utterly disoriented; he thought he might pass out.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of their near-death experience sinking in. They had survived… barely.

Elena finally broke the silence, her voice steady but firm. “You just keep… racking up debts with me.”

Ghost, still catching his breath, looked at her intently. There was no gratitude in his eyes, no softness. But there was something else—an almost imperceptible respect.

“Reckless,” he muttered, his voice rough but with a faint hint of something more beneath.

Elena scoffed, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe. But we’re alive. Both of us.”

Ghost didn’t argue. He didn’t need to. As the tension slowly eased, Elena felt a cold knot of fear settle in her chest. The infected had shown traits she had never imagined—ones that could be even more dangerous. If that creature had found them, others would, too.

“We can’t go back to that cabin. You can’t,” Ghost said, beginning to walk with difficulty, the wound in his leg pulling and burning with each step, the throbbing in his head only making things worse. “They’ll have heard the shot. We need to move. Now.”

Elena breathed heavily, pressing her lips together.

“We’re not going to your base,” she stated firmly, watching as Ghost stopped and turned to face her. His face hidden behind the mask, his eyes locked on hers.

“We’re going. We’ll get there,” he said, moving toward her again. “And I’ll start paying my debts.”

The tone in his voice, tinged with bitterness and sarcasm, made her stomach churn. Under different circumstances, she might have let her anger take over, but the adrenaline and vulnerability made it difficult.

With one last glance, he extended his hand toward her. “That’ll be more useful in my hands.”

Elena looked down at the rifle and, with a heavy, resigned sigh, handed it to him. “Fuck you.”

Ghost made a sound through his teeth, the closest thing to a laugh he’d made in a long time. After that brief exchange, they started walking.

[warningsine]

Deborah Vance and Ava Daniels can’t seem to quit each other. For two seasons, the love-hate relationship between Hacks’ imperious, old-school comedian, Deborah (Jean Smart), and the woke, down-on-her-luck, 20-something comedy writer Ava (Hannah Einbinder) hired to update her material fueled some of TV’s funniest and most provocative humor about people who tell jokes for a living. Then, for a year or so, it seemed as though the joke was on Hacks. First, Smart needed heart surgery. Just days after she’d recovered and the Emmy-winning series had gone back into production, the WGA and then SAG-AFTRA went on strike.

Hence the two-year wait for Season 3, whose first two episodes debuted May 2 on Max. Such a disjointed production schedule could have been disastrous for a show that relies so heavily on the chemistry of its cast—and especially between its intergenerational leads. Fortunately, the actors seem to have flourished amid adversity, just as Deborah and Ava often do. Creators Lucia Aniello, Paul W. Downs, and Jen Statsky have crafted Hacks’ best season yet, one that allows the characters to grow without killing their spiky, push-pull bond. Smart and Einbinder further elevate that story arc with a rapport that feels more natural and intimate than ever.

When we last saw the divine Ms. V, her career was soaring on the strength of a smash-hit, self-released special in which she dropped her dated stand-up schtick and told the funny, sad, real stories she’d amassed as a pioneering woman in a male-dominated entertainment industry. It was Ava who pushed Deborah to push herself, and Deborah thanked her by pushing her out of the nest. In the Season 2 finale, the diva fired a protégée she’d come to respect, in hopes that the younger woman would seize the opportunity to start making her own dreams come true.

But Hacks would not be Hacks if its stars spent all their screen time apart. Season 3 picks up one year after its predecessor left off, as the Vance-aissance continues with Deborah’s appearance on—what else?—the TIME 100. Things are going great for Ava, too. She’s secured a staff job writing for a comedy-news show in the vein of John Oliver’s Last Week Tonight and is living with her actress girlfriend, Ruby (Lorenza Izzo). Then she runs into Deborah at Montreal’s Just for Laughs festival and they bond over Tom Cruise’s coveted coconut cake.

Ava misses working with a boss who can certainly be a self-absorbed pain but who also really gets her sense of humor. Deborah is surrounded by sycophants, from the two mediocre writers she hired to replace Ava to the stylist who co-signs her bad fashion choices to audiences who laugh appreciatively even when she isn’t cracking a joke, and longs for a collaborator who will tell her the unvarnished truth. So, with Deborah in the running for her dream job as a late-night host, Ava agrees to spend her show’s three-month hiatus helping her prepare.

Deborah’s new place at the center of the comedy universe gives Aniello, Downs, and Statsky an excuse to survey the strange, fragmented and often-contradictory state of that art form in 2024. There’s a roast that brings both hired-gun comics and Deborah’s aggrieved adult daughter, DJ (Kaitlin Olson), together to say the meanest things they can think of about her. Then there’s her G-rated gig cheerily co-hosting the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. At one point, Deborah’s history of insensitive humor resurfaces. While she initially vows never to apologize for any joke, Ava urges her to at least hear out a generation that wasn’t even alive when she made many of them, in what is perhaps the least hysterical “cancel culture” plot TV has produced.

For all its timely self-awareness about the industry it represents, Hacks is, in many ways, a traditional sitcom. It’s a professional will-they-or-won’t-they centered on a classic odd-couple duo: two women of vastly divergent ages, politics, and bank balances, one just starting her career and the other a battle-scarred veteran. Season 3 smartly ups the show’s focus on another well-mismatched pair, Deborah and Ava’s dangerously decent agent, Jimmy (Downs), and his flighty assistant, Kayla (the wonderful Megan Stalter, now more than just wacky comic relief), who have left the agency her dad runs and struck out on their own. (The season’s one notable flaw is the dearth of substantive storylines for two chronically under-developed characters, DJ and Deborah’s repressed deputy Marcus, played by Carl Clemons-Hopkins.)

The writers make inspired use of sitcom standbys, from the character who absolutely needs to be in two places at once to the bottle episode; Deborah and Ava are forced to spend hours alone together, as Deborah finally confesses her mixed emotions about getting everything she’s always wanted so late in life. “You know,” she tells Ava, “your whole life you say, ‘One day I’ll do this, one day I’ll accomplish that.’ And the magic of ‘one day’ is that it’s all ahead of you. But for me, ‘one day’ is now. Anything I want to do, I have to do now, or else I’ll never do it. That’s the worst part of being old.” The speech resonates whether you’re Deborah’s age or Ava’s, made all the more poignant by Smart’s gradual shift in mood, from tough to vulnerable. In this scene and others, the tumultuous love between her character and Einbinder’s has a familial authenticity. 

Like its best forerunners, from Seinfeld to 30 Rock, Hacks is hitting its stride a few seasons into its run because it takes that long for a cast and a writing staff to learn how to make each other as brilliant as they can possibly all be. Early on in the series, there was a bit of a disconnect between Einbinder’s affable performance and some of Ava’s nastier moments. Now, the character seamlessly coheres. Deborah has always been the role of a lifetime for Smart, and in the new episodes, the creators reward her virtuosity by giving her more fodder for introspection and growth than ever before. In the heyday of broadcast comedy, a sitcom that had achieved such ideal synergy could retain its audience—and the support of its network—for upwards of a decade. It’s fitting, when you consider that one of its heroines is the ultimate Hollywood survivor, that Hacks has become the rare streaming show with the potential to have the same longevity. 

[ms-m-astrologer]

Transiting Mercury enters Leo (pre-retrograde zone)

Tuesday, July 2 - Tuesday, July 16, 2024

Yep - those dreaded words, “Mercury retrograde,” loom over us again.

Mercury isn’t very comfortable in Leo. It is said to be in its “fall” here, ie, in a sign (Leo) opposite the sign it’s exalted in (Aquarius). Mercury likes pure icy cold facts - “just the facts ma’am” - whereas Leo is all about the drama and the ego.

Little kiddos with Leo Mercury often have to be reminded to tell the plain, unvarnished truth. If they develop the talent for “embellishment” and steer it into proper channels, that’s one thing. But as an example - my dad was a Leo, with a Leo Mercury, and he never let the facts get in the way of a good self-aggrandizing story. It got so bad and was so thorough that he was completely misrepresented in his own obituary - his parents were hurt and astonished, and everybody’s grief was compounded due to all the lies.

But, I think that’s more of a theme and issue for the upcoming retrograde. These next two weeks can be seen as a set-up time, and of course we want to take advantage of that! Looking at Mercury’s areas:

Learning - it goes better if we can have some fun with it and enjoy the process. Leo can be very interested in science, as well as the usual artsy Leo piece. We like to show off what we know.

Thinking and reasoning - stubborn! But can come up with some wonderful creative solutions to problems. We have to work on keeping our “egos” out of it.

Communication - can be very dramatic and creative. Can also be very loud. The instinct is to shout over people when they disagree. Work on (remembering) those listening skills.

These aspects are valid on the day they happen - especially the first ones, when Mercury is still streaking along.

Wednesday, July 3 - Mercury/Leo opposite Pluto Rx/Aquarius, 1°19’. The Leo-Aquarius polarity is “I’m a star!” versus “Everybody is a star!” This opposition probably points out a difficult truth (especially if it dings something in your birth chart) around that theme. Someone tells you something true, but harsh - or maybe you tell someone! Be careful not to let vanity, or need for approval, over-react.

Saturday, July 6 - Mercury/Leo conjunct Vesta/Leo, 7°32’. First of three, with the other two happening while Mercury is in its retrograde zone. These two combined usually ignite some new scholastic interest. Whatever amazing idea we get, though, we should hold that thought and not act on it, because it’ll be up for review during Mercury retrograde - and probably come out in a completely revised form, the third time, in Virgo.

Monday, July 8:

Mercury/Leo sextile Jupiter/Gemini, 9°50’

Mercury/Leo trine North Node/Aries, sextile South Node/Libra, 10°48’

This can give us some intellectual arrogance. I’m thinking of Peter Pan crowing “How clever I am!” On the less egotistic side, we have opportunities to expand our knowledge, in a way that makes us feel confident about ourselves and our ability to learn.

Monday, July 15 - Mercury/Leo square Pallas/Scorpio, 19°53’. First of three. Struggles to find our authentic voice - authenticity being a Very Big Deal for Leo and Scorpio. Perhaps we aren’t as eloquent as we want to be. Can also indicate learning difficulties. I’m also thinking that, given the nature of Leo and Scorpio, we aren’t listening - and that will get us into trouble soon enough.

[comparativetarot]

Eight of Cups. Art by Nara Lesser, from Neurotic Owl’s Faerytale Tarot.

Mooooom, the Snow Queen again?????

Yup, nope, never tired of this story. Also if you haven’t read the whole thing and only know it through adaptations you are missing a ton of intriguing side quests, including this strange little episode with the flower lady. In her searching for the DEFINITELY UNWORTHY OF HER Kay Gerda finds a cottage with a garden absolutely filled with amazing flowers, owned by an old woman wearing a hat covered in painted flowers. The old woman bewitches Gerda to forget Kay so she can keep her as a daughter- not in an overtly evil way, compared to most fairytales, buuuuut it’s kidnapping and fucking around with someone’s mind so NOT COOL – and makes her rosebushes disappear so they won’t remind Gerda of Kay. She forgets to make the rose disappear from her painted hat, though – Gerda spots it, remembers everything, and after collecting a bunch of random mini-stories from the various flowers runs away to continue her quest. I took a slight liberty – it’s always summer in the cottage garden, but when Gerda leaves she discovers it’s already autumn outside. I pushed a little further into winter – I just really wanted the high contrast of the lively garden world she’s leaving and the winter she’s running toward.

These little side stories are so odd and intriguing – most of the others move Gerda along in some way. The robber girl, the prince and princess, and the Finn and Lapland women all help her reach her goal. The gardener woman just kind of puts her on pause, and then the quest seems much harder and more hopeless compared to the idyllic dream of the summer garden where she lived for a while. There’s something there about choosing cold truth over comforting lie, but then this whole story ends up being about the importance of warmth and love and loyalty, not unvarnished truth?

[angelasscribbles]

Heir Apparent Chapter 17: Unvarnished Truths

Series: Heir Apparent.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Drake x Riley, Liam x Riley (past)

Rating: R

Warnings: Mature themes, language, Depression mentioned

A/N: So I wrote the last chapter from a prompt. The prompt put it in my head but really I think I got a little ahead of myself lol. Not that anyone probably even remembers this one it's been so long.

This chapter takes place the week before the prior chapter. I wanted to explore some of the attempts at relationship repair before moving on to the fallout from the news of the pregnancy being leaked to the press.

I apologize to the fans of this story. I've stayed away from it for far too long.

Everything else: Master List.

The week before the news story broke…..

Liam x Drake

“I’ve always been jealous of you, you know.” Liam sat at the edge of his chair, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“What?” Drake fumbled the water bottle he’d been about to take a drink of.

“What?” Liam lifted his eyes in surprise as he regarded his lifelong best friend. “You didn’t know that?”

“Why would I know that, Li? It makes no sense! I’m the one that grew up in your shadow! You had everything that I didn’t. Money, privilege, respect…”

“None of those are things that you value.” Liam reminded him.

Drake was brought up short. “…that’s true, but still, having those things would certainly have made life easier. I had to work my ass off and prove myself over and over to obtain the things you were handed just for being born.”

Liam sat up straight as he studied Drake thoughtfully, “Do you resent me for that?”

“Of course not!” Drake scoffed, “You know that, right?”

Liam shrugged, “I thought I did. But it must have felt good to finally be able to have something I couldn’t.”

Drake stared at him for a long moment as the implication sunk in, “You mean Riley.”

“I mean Riley.”

Drake shook his head, “Are you serious right now, man? She’s not a fucking object! And I didn’t go after her out of some sense of wanting to take something from you! I fought against my feelings for her to the point of driving myself insane because of my loyalty and friendship to you!”

Drake jumped out of his chair, still holding the water bottle, and stalked to the windows lining the far wall of the large sitting room at Valtoria that was currently being used for their weekly therapy session.

The king of Cordonia couldn’t be seen entering the therapist’s office, nor could the therapist be seen entering the palace. So Liam had been coming to Valtoria once a week for the last month for therapy sessions.

Riley saw the therapist alone once a week for her depression, which had shown marked improvement.

Riley and Drake also did couples therapy once a week and every Wednesday the three of them met for family counseling.

This week, Dr. Bennett had requested that Riley not attend the session, to give Liam and Drake a chance to work out their issues with each other.

Dr. Bennett shifted her gaze from Drake back to Liam as she tapped her pencil lightly against the notepad in her lap.

Liam sighed as he ran a hand down his face.

“Liam, you asked if Drake resented you,” Dr. Bennett interjected, “I think it’s fair to ask if you resent him.”

“Of course I resent him!” Liam threw his hands up in the air, “He took the only thing I ever actually wanted for myself!”

“You’re talking about Riley?”

“Yes, I’m talking about Riley. I loved her!” He still loved her, but that seemed pointless to say.

Or feel.

“You said earlier that you were jealous of him,” the doctor continued, “Would you care to expound on that?”

Drake turned back toward the room, but he made no move to return to his seat. He stood with his back to the window bank fidgeting with the water bottle.

“Uh…” Liam watched the toe of his highly polished shoe as his foot tapped nervously against the floor, “To an outside perspective it may seem that I have everything. Money, power, titles, etc. But it all comes with a price tag, a hefty one.”

Drake’s face softened as he listened. He of all people understood what Liam’s life had been like, how the crown had constrained and shackled him.

He’d been there with him through most of it.

“Drake had the freedom that I didn’t,” Liam addressed his remarks to the doctor, “He had friends, real ones. I could never be sure who liked me for me and not my title or money. He had a father that actually gave a shit about him and showed it. I…I never really felt loved and accepted by anyone after my mother died….. except by Drake and Olivia.”

“Liam-“ Drake crossed the room back to his seat.

“So you can imagine how hurtful it was when one of the only two people I fully trusted stabbed me in the back!”

“Goddamn it, Li!” Drake threw the water bottle across the room, “I didn’t mean to stab you in the back, I fell in love!”                    

“With my girlfriend!” Liam jumped to his feet.

“No, no, that’s revisionist history!” Drake pointed his finger at him, “You two were never really together, and after the coronation-“

“You knew how I felt about her!”

“Okay, okay!” Dr. Bennett stood, holding her arms out between them, “Everyone calm down! Please, sit and let’s resume this discussion in a normal tone of voice.”

Both men glared at each other as they retook their seats.

“I understand that emotions are high and you both feel very strongly about this,” Dr. Bennett said, “But this is good. Leaving this unresolved will cause problems down the road. This is the kind of thing that will explode at the worst possible time. Working it out now so that doesn’t happen, is why we’re here. What I want you to do now is take turns talking. And when one of you is talking, the other one needs to listen! I mean truly listen and try to understand where the other is coming from, not listen just to respond. Can you do that?”

They both shifted their gazes to her and nodded.

“Okay. Liam, you start. Can you tell Drake why you feel so betrayed? And Drake, can you listen without interrupting? You’ll get a turn to talk when he’s done.”

Drake pressed his lips together and nodded as he folded his arms across his chest.

“You were always there for me, you know what my life has been like, Drake. This was the one thing, the only thing I have ever wanted, or asked, for myself! And you took it!”

“Maybe that’s the problem, Li. Maybe you only want her because you can’t have her.”

“What?”

“You didn’t lift a finger to help clear her name. And if it hadn’t been, you were planning to go through with marrying Madeleine! I never heard you call her the love of your life until she was engaged to me!”

“I couldn’t be open about my feelings before and you know that!”

“If I may…” Dr. Bennett interrupted. She waited for Liam to acquiesce then went on, “Riley is a human being with thoughts and feelings of her own. Drake didn’t make her fall in love with him. If she hadn’t returned his feelings, how he felt wouldn’t have mattered. She had a choice to make and she made it. You understand that, right?”

“I….” Liam slumped in his chair, “Yes.”

“Are you angry with Riley?”

“What?” He blinked at her.

“I see a lot of anger and blame directed at Drake, but you’ve just stated that you understand it was Riley’s choice to make. Are you angry at her for choosing Drake and not you?”

“I…I don’t want to be mad at her…”

“And why is that?”                         

“Because I love her, and it hurts to be mad at her! Blaming her makes it feel more real that she didn’t choose me! It…. it’s easier to blame Drake.”

Shit.

“That’s quite an insight, Liam,” Dr. Bennett said, “What do you think it means?”

“That I’m putting all of the blame on Drake so I don’t have to place any on her….or on myself.”

“Maybe it’s time you and Riley have a discussion about that,” Dr. Bennett suggested, “Shall we schedule a time for that?”

Riley x Liam

“I do love you, Liam.” Riley sat in the chair across from him, the one Drake had occupied the day before. Her hands were clasped in her lap and her eyes were locked on them.

“But you’re not in love with me, I know.” Liam sighed.

“I….” Riley’s eyes went to the doctor as if looking for permission for something.

Dr. Bennett nodded, “Whatever it is, it’s okay to say it. He’s just looking for the truth, whatever that is. He can’t move on without it.”

Riley twisted the fabric of her skirt in her hands as she spoke, “I am in love with you, Liam, just not as in love as I am with Drake.”

“What? So you love me but you just love him more?” Hope and bitterness filled him in equal measure.

She loved him.

Just not enough.

“Yes. And I trust him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I trust him, Liam!” Her hand curled into a fist that she banged on her leg in emphasis.

“And you don’t trust me?”

“Why would I trust you? You hid our relationship for months! You proposed to me then got engaged to another woman five minutes later! You asked me to be your secret side piece! You didn’t lift a goddamned finger to help with the investigation to find Tariq! You didn’t help with the scandal, you actively covered it up once you found out your father was involved! Only after my name was cleared did you propose to me again! Why would I trust you, Liam? Huh? Why?”

“Why did you sleep with me in Vegas?”

“What?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it, Riley! You chose Drake, you didn’t want me but yet you kept sleeping with me!”

“Not really. Vegas was just-“

“The Statue of Liberty.”

“Excuse me?”

“The night you turned down my proposal we went up in the statue and we had sex!”

“That was goodbye!”

“Obviously not, because Vegas happened! No wonder I’m having such a difficult time moving on, you keep giving me mixed signals!”

“I married another man, Liam! How much clearer could that be?”

“You fucked me two nights before your wedding!”

“I…”

“Why?” He demanded again.

“I…don’t know…”

“That’s a lie. Tell me why…please!”

Riley glanced wildly around at the doctor, at Liam, and then down at her lap again before whispering, “I already said it. Because I still love you.”

Happiness, rage, and disbelief all crashed through Liam’s heart. He raised his tear filled eyes to the doctor, “How am I supposed to move on when I know that she still loves me?”

He loved her, she loved him and it wasn’t enough.  

“You sound angry about that,” Dr. Bennett said.

“I am angry about it!”

Shock and confusion hit Riley, “Why are you angry that I love you?”

“I’m not angry that you love me, Riley. I’m angry that you’ve been denying that you love me and that you married another man…and not just any man, but my best fucking friend, knowing that you still had feelings for me! How was that fair to me or to him?”

“My feelings for you didn’t matter because-“

“Of fucking course they mattered, Riley! Your feelings matter!”

“My feelings for you didn’t matter because I chose Drake!”

“Did you choose him in Vegas?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Because you just admitted that you fucking love me, Riley but you never even gave us a chance to work out our issues… You just bailed!”

“I fell in love with someone else!”

“Oh, I’m aware!”

“Liam, Riley,” Dr. Bennett interjected, “The two of you are going to have to co-parent for at least eighteen years. You’re going to have to figure out how to navigate this, for the sake of your child.”

“I know you’re right,” Liam said as he stood, “But I’m going to need some time to process all of ….this.”

“I understand.” Dr. Bennett replied, “Next week?”

“I’ll be here.” He said to the doctor as he shot a reproving look at Riley, then turned and left the room without another word.

“How are you feeling about what just happened?” Dr. Bennett asked.

“Not great,” Riley admitted, “I don’t like hurting him and I just seem to keep doing it.”

“I’m proud of you for reaching deep and admitting your feelings. That couldn’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t. Just saying it out loud feels like I’m betraying Drake.”

“Speaking of Drake, don’t you think this is something you should tell him?” Dr. Bennett asked softly.

“Oh, no!” Riley looked up at her, eyes wild with panic, “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Because it will destroy him!”

“I think your husband is more resilient than you give him credit for. Obviously, it’s your choice, but what if you don’t tell him, and Liam does? Shouldn’t he hear it from you?”

Riley x Drake

“Oh, thank God!”

She had imagined a lot of reactions from him, but that hadn’t been one of them. “You’re…happy that I still have feelings for Liam?”

“No. Definitely not. But I knew you did, Riley, because I know you! Your denying it is what caused me so much anxiety!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…..I knew you weren’t being truthful about that, so I thought you weren’t telling me the truth because you regretted choosing me! That you married me because you were mad at him then realized you’d made a mistake.”

“So you don’t care that I still have feelings for another man?” She asked indignantly.

Drake laughed humorlessly, “Of course, I fucking care! It’s my least favorite thing about you, Campbell, and it hurts but knowing the whole truth…that your love for me is stronger, that you trust me, that you actively chose me, not just defaulted to me, that you are still choosing me-“

“I will always choose you!” She sobbed, emotion overwhelming her.

Drake moved to her side and dropped down on his knees in front of her, “We’re supposed to be a team, babe,” he said as he peered up into her face.

“We are a team!”

“What happened to telling each other everything?”

“I’m sorry!” She leaned into his arms as he squatted in front of her, “I didn’t want to hurt you!”

“It hurts me when you don’t trust me. It hurts me when you don’t tell me things. Riley, look at me.”

She lifted her head and moved back a little so she could see his face.

His countenance was as serious as she’d ever seen it as he told her, “I believe we can get through anything. I am willing to work through anything with you, but I can’t work through an issue I’m not aware of. I thought we both learned our lesson about not trusting each other.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry.”

The relief that washed through her was shocking in its intensity. A huge weight had dislodged from her chest. She hadn’t even been aware of how heavy it was until it was gone.

His worst fear had always been that she still loved Liam and that it was just a matter of time until she left him and went back to his best friend, so the news that she still had residual feelings for Liam should have distressed him more.

But he had already known that. He’d always known it was a lie when she denied it. He could read her body language as clearly as words on a printed page.

That worked both ways and he could tell when she was telling the truth. So when she told him that she would always choose him, she meant it, and he believed her.

The last lingering cracks in their relationship knitted back together.

[silentauroriamthereal]

Hi!

What's your take on this line-

"You were my whole world. Being Mary Watson was the only life worth living. Thank you."

I've always thought that it's a classic example of inconsistent characterization.

(I love your stories btw. Specially the HLV fix-its.)

So, I just wrote you a whole long comment in response to the comment you just left on my fic Stand-in, haha! It got me on a Mary rant and therefore perfectly poised to come and answer this.

Without putting too fine a point on it, my take is that this line is utter bullshit. Nothing about that scene is consistent with Mary's previous characterization, as you so rightly said. What we saw was:

-a character who made a career in killing for personal gain. Not principle, not national loyalty, just money. She at no point in the canon expressed any remorse for that.

-a character whose cover story ("doctor's wife", mother of a newborn, etc) was getting boring for her, bait that she rises to in showing off her shooting skills to Sherlock in HLV.

-a character who "loved" this life so much that she ran away the instant shit hit the fan, refusing Sherlock's help and instead attacking him a second time, leaving behind an infant child as well as John, just as she abandoned her AGRA teammates to torture and death without even having the decency to confirm that they were beyond rescue.

-a character who knew that her time with John was up. There was that unvarnished moment of truth after he and Sherlock went to get her, finding her due to John having already known that she would attack Sherlock and planting a tracking device in the USB key, where she says "I liked Mary" and he says "I do, too. Or I used to." (Paraphrasing very loosely there!)

That does not add up to Mary ("Mary") finding this life with John the "only life worth living", or even a sustainable life. She was bored. She had endless loose ends left behind, just like her own teammate. She had consequences waiting for her, and ran away from them - maybe to spare John and Rosie from having to face them, but she was never willing to try honesty in the first place, try telling John her real name, even (you can BET it wasn't her criminal alias of Rosamunde... no one could be that stupid!). She wasn't willing to, say, turn herself in, face the consequences of any of her actions, express any regret for anything she'd ever done to anyone, no holds barred.

My theory is that she chose her own out. She knew that John didn't love her anymore (I mean, he was already thinking of cheating and you can also bet that Mary checked his phone...) and she decided to fake a moment of "redemption" to throw division between him and Sherlock, by trying to somehow make the deliberate choices of two other people Sherlock's fault. It's bizarre logic, and I'm not even going to touch on the writing aspect here. Mary knew her time was up, so she pulled her signature move and ran away from it all, one last time. She was a coward who never thought she needed to answer for her own actions or apologize for them - and let's be clear: she did. Mary was an absolutely horrendous human being. Her entire relationship with John was lies and more lies. No one in the CANON liked her - there was a double-sided list of people who hate her among her OWN WEDDING GUESTS, which is quite something. She killed people for a living and she felt just fine about abandoning these teammates that were like "family" to her in favour of blithely starting a whole new life without a second thought for anything she'd ever done.

So yeah: it was a bullshit line. One last piece of the final cover story of who knows how many.

[gameguy20100]

This is the anon who complimented you on your integrity. I want to pay you another compliment, since you could use one: I also admire your honesty. You're the sort of person who "tells the unvarnished truth about things", which is not a common quality these days. You don't lie about what you believe or make up morality as you go along just to win the argument. So, I admire what an honest person you are.

Thank you.

I appreciate it.

[thestupidhelmet]

❤️ Do you ever feel anxious or scared while writing on Jackie Stargazer? If so, why?

So many times. I wrote that story over a period of eight years. I kept deciding not to finish it or never to post it -- due to different reasons at different points.

The story explores heavy subject matter. I'd read enough fanfic that uses trauma as fodder for angst, demonstrating no true understanding of trauma, its effects, or how to heal from it. I needed to make sure Jackie Stargazer explored trauma without unnecessary and gratuitous details while still presenting the truth unvarnished.

I want my stories to be healing for readers in some way, and the Hippocratic Oath of First, Do No Harm is my guide (anyone who's read Jackie Stargazer will find what I just wrote familiar). I put a trigger warning on specific chapters where trauma is dramatized (i.e. put into scene mode), stating the exact sentences where to stop and start reading again for people who might need to skip those parts for whatever reason.

That choice solved one major reservation for me.

I ultimately committed to finishing and posting this story when I learned my life would experience a major upheaval. I also posted the first two chapters on Tumblr to gauge reader interest ('twas very positive).

I stopped working on Those Who Play with Demons and worked hard to get Jackie Stargazer done, revisions and all. The fear of the inevitable, inexorable changes to my life was much worse than my fear of posting this fanfic. 😅

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