#this looks like a festering sadness and anger towards someone that deeply hurt him by leaving and refuses to go thru it again

[akkivee]

‘this bond will last for eternity. i won’t tolerate betrayals or running away.’

——

so speaking of kuukou probably has attachment issues in the form of being too attached, he has this arb line lmao

i revisited the kiyohime legend, and in some iterations of the legend, she specifically turns into a dragon of rage after she tried to cross a river and died to follow someone she loved who promised her he’d stay by her side, but only did so in order to escape her. makes me think this legend really is kuukou’s blueprint lol 🤔

[crimeronan]

Can you explain the appeal of Julian Blackthorn? This is a genuine question because I read the books and came away utterly bored by him and unconvinced of his moral greyness as opposed to like, Adam Parrish’s. He seemed so one dimensional to me but I want to know if I’m Wrong TM considering I tend to be very very biased toward my favourite characters and bored by the rest, and my favourites were Mark and Kieran. So maybe I just didn’t pay him enough attention??

it’s been a while since i wrote any earnest tsc meta but cringe culture is dead and the chance to infodump about my julian thoughts has me vibrating where i’m sitting so.  yes okay.

technical stuff

(aka: things pertaining to How The Story Is Constructed)

cassandra clare’s characterization has become much stronger just in general since she first began writing the series like twenty years ago

perhaps most importantly: the more recent stuff i’ve read from her has involved characters who actually grow, change, and learn from their past mistakes 

rather than repeating the same stupid decisions over and over again

and over and over and over some more

seriously take a shot every time someone in tmi miscommunicates or self-destructs in ways They Have Learned Not To Do for no real reason. u will die of alcohol poisoning

in tda this shines ESPECIALLY with the evolution of mark, kieran, and cristina’s relationship, but that’s a separate post

clare’s trademark is also the angsty traumatized jerkass love interest with a secret heart of gold

the woman is almost singlehandedly responsible for draco in leather pants and the proliferation of this kind of character type in fandom and teen lit. this isn’t a criticism it’s me marveling at how if you commit hard enough to a single trope you truly can change the world.  follow your dreams

sad jackass with a heart of gold isn’t an Inherently Problematic Character Type

but poorly done it can lead to relationship dynamics in which one partner is constantly being hurt by and then forgiving the other despite them making no real effort to change, because they are narratively absolved due to being sad

(there’s a lot of this with earlier jace content.  in some ways i think will was later created specifically to be a same-archetype protagonist who actually does get called on his shit and grow. that’s also another post)

also if all of your sexy male love interests are tortured jackasses with a heart of gold then people start calling you a one-trick pony

enter julian blackthorn!

from the very start everything about him is designed to be the INVERSE of the heart of gold jackass.  which immediately makes him interesting just from a meta perspective

(mark and kieran are also both alternate angles on this time-honored archetype.  mark gets the heart of gold and kieran gets the jackass and then they’re both much more deeply messy than that.  yet another post)

julian is kind, self-sacrificing, empathetic, artistic, emotionally supportive, responsible, and favored by old grannies everywhere

so a completely nonthreatening milquetoast guy, right

immediately forgettable if you’re only here for the dramatic conflicts and shithead antics of clare’s other protags

except that he is A Mess

and that he has structured his priorities very carefully, and they are as selfless as you expect from The Hero (TM) but they are also Not Heroic (TM) and they do not align with the moral framework The Hero (TM) is supposed to use

moral ambiguity in characters always exists in relation to their narratives imo. you mention adam parrish - trc’s narrative already mucks around in different ethical shades of gray, and adam falls on the canon scale about where julian does on his canon scale.  both more willing than the average pov character to do the ruthless thing or make the fucked-up choice if the ends justify the means; both with an intensely strong sense of internal priorities that they adhere to at all costs, both so unbelievably fucking down for murder; etc

i do think there are ways julian’s choices could have been pushed even further, but considering the number of readers who hate his guts already, i can see why clare opted not to go for the most controversial possible conflicts

so we’re flipping the narrative

instead of seeing this angsty bad boy and peeling back the layers of his trauma to find his heart of gold, we’re seeing the put-together selfless family man and peeling back the layers of his Responsibility Mask to expose the rotting husk underneath

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

THAT IS FUN AS FUCK

then when julian DOES lash out in hurtful, uncontrolled ways, he has significantly more narrative justification for it than most of clare’s protagonists (will elaborate in characterization thoughts)

julian is also interesting as fuck because of how his struggles allow for a more in-depth look at the failings of shadowhunter society, something that’s also sorely lacking in clare’s earlier work

his apparent amorality is simply the result of him making pragmatic and impossible choices because he has been faced with fucked-up ethical dilemmas since age 12 Because Society Has Failed Him

which opens the door for narrative exploration of how and why he’s been failed so badly & what needs to change

i also love that he has such a coldly calculated way of analyzing situations and allowing harm to occur when need be, bc a lot of clare’s early protagonists have such a bad case of Rush In And Get Myself Killed Because I’ve Got Feelings About Impulsive Heroism syndrome that i wanna push them in front of a truck

probably there’s other meta narrative stuff i could say but i’m stopping myself and moving on to character analysis

characterization stuff

(aka: reasons why i’m also attached to him in a vacuum)

i don’t read him as one-dimensional at all tbh

u may feel the narrative pushes “ruthless julian blackthorn” too much without delivering enough actual ruthless julian But i don’t think that’s the same as having only one dimension

from the get-go, the big question centered on julian is always “how far are you willing to go?” and the narrative pushes the stakes slowly higher and higher to continuously test julian’s “the price is always justified” mindset

he has a far more layered and realistic response to trauma than clare’s early protagonists - trauma affects every single aspect of his personality and how he conducts himself, and the effects vary depending on the circumstances

his conviction that he has to be the perfect parent to his siblings because they will fall apart if they see him show weakness??  rooted in how he feels like he’s fallen apart since losing the stable adult support he once relied upon

his willingness to hurt semi-innocent people, commit coldblooded murder, manipulate people using political leverage, allow harm to befall any stranger if it protects his family??  rooted in how he has already had to ask himself how much he’s willing to sacrifice, and how his family is his only source of stability when the world has never done Shit for him

his conviction that he has a darker heart than anyone else because he killed his possessed father, even though intellectually he knows he was saving his brother’s life??  rooted in having no means of processing this trauma and being unable to voice his feelings for fear of backlash from a deeply non-understanding society

the way he represses every single negative emotion he ever has, to the point where emma - his actual literal magic soulmate who can feel his emotions - is startled to find him hurting or angry??  once again all about how he has to be the perfect father or he’s failed completely

the way his anger is so totally disproportionate to different situations and the way his negative emotions can only come out in completely uncontrolled breaks??  all that repression baybey.  this kid has not processed a single bad feeling in five years.  every single real grievance and petty annoyance has been festering indefinitely inside him like a slowly spreading infection

julian’s arc involves him needing to get thru being his worst self to actually start to heal

as in, he has to actually learn to acknowledge his feelings, take care of himself, lean on his family, and let other people take some responsibility

he also has to learn that in his quest to be the perfect emotionally controlled authority figure, he has not actually learned how to control or deal with his emotions. like. At Fucking All. good god

the narrative setup is also about asking “how far are you willing to go?” until the answer is finally “not this far.  not this far”

and once he reaches that point, he has to reevaluate everything about how he weighs his priorities and morals and plans, etc

(i also like that emma has a perpendicular arc in which she’s always the one tempering julian and telling him “no we can’t go that far” until she’s willing to do something horrific that he absolutely won’t and HE has to stop HER. very sexy)

it’s also just really nice to have a character who’s learned to relate so well to literally every single member of his family while still having a very detached ruthless interior consciousness. i have similar feelings about how adam teaches himself to love people, but with julian it’s spelled out more explicitly in canon & it’s a more central character theme

i’m sure i’m also forgetting stuff here but this post is long enough so i’m gonna say good enough

and like i said in the tags on my other post, there are things i’d personally write differently if it were my story - plot points i’d shift, character contrasts i’d up, themes i’d explore differently, pacing i’d adjust, etc.  i have plenty of ways i could be nitpicky and editorial about the effectiveness of julian’s arc.  but i also don’t feel like writing them out at the moment & none of my critiques on effectiveness have an impact on the core appeal of his character 2 me.  he’s so fucking good

[kingreywrites]

So Pardon The Dust

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2493

Summary: When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king has been dead for years.

Note: this is bittersweet, but the idea couldn’t leave me alone, and i had to write it out! so yeah, edmund’s death is heavily talked about, be careful if that’s not your thing! I just love Destinies Collide, and love what-ifs, so this story was born from there asghdh

Read on ao3

When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king has been dead for years. 

They don't know that. What they do know is that once their travel in a shaky gondola over an immense rift ends, everything seems too easy. The kingdom is dark, cold, smells of dust and rust permeating the air, and it makes it hard to imagine that anyone has ever lived in such a place. But Rapunzel's hair pushes her forward, and they don't spend any more time thinking about it. 

They enter the equally dark and cold castle, searching for the moonstone. 

Desperate for a flicker of warmth, Lance lights a fire in a lifeless living room with no windows. Eugene's gaze is drawn to a painting, throning above the fireplace and depicting a man and a woman he presumes to be the king and queen. 

He cannot explain the deep uneasiness he feels at the sight, or even why he can hardly tear his eyes away from the picture. His heart is racing, and he explains it by blaming it on his concern for Rapunzel. 

The queen's smile remains etched in his mind as he moves forward. 

The king has been dead for years. They don't know it, but Eugene finds a room filled with overhanging statues and, sitting in front of a gigantic door, is a tiny skeleton covered in too big clothes and dust. A dark crown still hangs grotesquely on its head, but the first thing Eugene sees is the purple gem necklace between the fingers of its single hand. The same as the queen's in the painting. 

Eugene has a bitter taste in his mouth. Rapunzel holds his hand, also upset, and he remembers that they are here for her, and for her destiny. He holds her fingers tighter between his, and they move toward the door. 

The ghosts are… certainly a surprise.

Death is not something new to Eugene, yet he can't help but feel nauseous when the king's ghost appears so close to his own skeleton, eyes full of a melancholy and anger that only he understands.

He doesn't seem to be capable of speech. He just groans and attacks, mindlessly guarding the stone that cost him his life. When Adira arrives to help them, she calls him Edmund, a soft grief in her voice, and Eugene keeps the name in a corner of his head. Edmund. Not a ghost, not a skeleton, but Edmund, who protected his kingdom until he died trapped within it.

Finally, Eugene is the one who destroys his statue. He cuts off its head, and tries to forget how a few seconds before, it was his own that could have been lost, if the king's axe had not struck beside it. Luck saved his life this time.

Adira asks Rapunzel to enter the moonstone chamber by herself. She says that it's her destiny, and hers alone. Eugene wants to protest, worry burning in his heart, but he doesn't even have the time - Rapunzel looks at Cassandra, and announces that the three of them will go inside. He should be relieved, but he can't help but take another look at the king's- Edmund's body. Many people have died for this stone, and the more time passes, the more terrified he is of what awaits them on the other side. He knows death, more than any other member of this group probably; he's been around it personally. He promised himself when he came back to life, that he would never let Rapunzel die the way he did, slowly and violently, when she has so much to live for.

He doesn't know where this promise will lead him. 

When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king is dead. They enter easily, and though the ghosts of past rulers stand in their way, the path to the moonstone is far from the most difficult adventure he has ever experienced. Eugene is worried, of course he is - he's afraid of the conclusion of their journey, afraid of what he cannot predict. Rapunzel tells him she loves him, and he almost wants to throw up, because they're in the middle of a kingdom murdered by that exact stone Rapunzel intends to grab. I love you too, he thinks, but can't manage to say, because the words sound like a goodbye, and he's not ready for that. He'd die one thousand times for her, if she asked him to. He'd die for her against her will too, if necessary, but he knows he can't get in the way today. As desperate as he is to protect her, he knows how much she values being able to draw her own path.

He wants to grab the moonstone first because he loves her, and because he loves her, he stays back.

That's not the case for everyone. He notices too late Cass running for it, and Demanitus' warning echoes once again in his ears, mocking now that the only thing he can do is try to pull Rapunzel to safety as the world explodes in colours. The king is dead, and their friendship with Cassandra is too, the shadow of Gothel haunting Rapunzel once again despite how much she deserves to be free from it. Cassandra flees, Eugene hurts his arm when she pushes him away, and Rapunzel runs after her, desperate to salvage what can be.

It doesn't amount to much, in the end.

Things settle down, as much as they can while Rapunzel still sits listlessly near the broken bridge Cassandra left behind, and Eugene goes in the castle again, in search of bandages this time. His left arm hurts.

He doesn't expect to find Adira, standing silently in front of... Edmund. Her back is rigid, her mouth in a straight line, but when he calls her name, he sees a foreign melancholy in her eyes. He doesn't know her that well, but there's a lot Eugene can understand from looking into somebody's eyes.

Adira sighs, shoulders lowering, and he's sure she hears his unsaid question. "I shouldn't be surprised," she says, but it's clear that in a way, she is. "I… knew, that King Edmund was not well, when we left. I often considered that he might very well be…" she trails off, her eyes falling on his body again.

"It's different to be sure," Eugene responds softly, his voice loud in the silence of this immense room. Watching them - Adira, and this skeleton, barely hanging together enough to recognise a human shape - it was difficult to conceive that once upon a time, they had stood here together, alive and happy, perhaps. He can't imagine what it feels like to see an old friend this way, with no warning. "Adira…"

"It's okay, Fishskin," she smiles, and in her voice, he could hear the echoes of all the time Rapunzel told him she was fine, because she didn't know how to act when she was not.

He barely knows Adira. Both because he didn't ask, and because she didn't want him, or anyone, to know her. But he can guess easily that her life had never been one of peace, not even before leaving the Dark Kingdom, and losing contact with the other members of the Brotherhood. He doesn't think she's unhappy, per se, but he- he knows, they all know, especially now after everything that happened, that anger and fear and grief are not emotions that should be let to fester until they explode. Maybe it's his worry for Rapunzel speaking; maybe he's confusing everything, and Adira is simply dealing with the situation the way she wants to, but before he can think better of it, Eugene takes a step forward, and asks her if she wants to bury the king's body.

"To- To give him a better resting place," he explains awkwardly, her eyes piercing right through him. He's ready to say sorry and hope she doesn't kill him for overstepping her boundaries, but, to his surprise, she softens, a genuine if sad smile on her lips.

"Actually Fishskin, that's… a great idea."

And so they do it. Adira finds a bear hood that the King used to wear - Dabney, she says reverently - and they place his bones in it, carefully moving everything in tandem. They don't really talk while doing it. There's not much to be said. Eugene thinks of this king, who was so desperate to save his kingdom that he doomed it, and he thinks about death, too. About how lonely it is.

Adira leads them down a few corridors, and they emerge in a small, grey looking garden. They walk until they find an unmarked tombstone.

"The queen," Adira announces shortly, and Eugene wonders if she helped bury her too.

It's not the first time Eugene digs a grave for someone. He remembers starkly getting out of the tower with Rapunzel, both of them entirely different people than who they were before, and finding a cloak and ashes at the bottom of it. He remembers how quietly distraught Rapunzel had been, and how he had proposed to bury what was left of Gothel.

Shaking his head, he tries to think about something else, but it's hard given the situation. His arm aches at each of his movements. Surprisingly, Adira breaks the silence, and that's enough to distract him.

"I often disagreed with King Edmund," she says, without looking at him. "He was a good king, but his duty to the moonstone blinded him to the bigger picture, and I was afraid that it would lead him, and us, to lose everything. I was right, as I often am," she chuckles, but there's no mirth behind it. Simply grief. Something that can't be quite put into words.

"How did he lose his arm?" Eugene asks, voice low as they finally lower the bones into the ground. His eyes catch the sight of the necklace falling aside, and when they're done, he picks it up, thumb running over the smooth surface of the gem.

"The queen died," Adira whispers. She's looking at the necklace too, when he raises his head. "Edmund's grief led him to act on the anger he had been repressing for too long, but the moonstone was much more powerful than he imagined. Its retaliation costs him everything he held dear."

Gently, Adira takes the necklace from him, and Eugene can't explain the impulse that makes him want to hold onto it for a little while longer.

He's sentimental, he reasons. There's something deeply touching about this man dying while looking at the last thing connecting him to his late wife. These are good explanations, but neither of them addresses the unease and bitterness rising in Eugene's throat. He doesn't understand it himself.

Adira looks at the necklace for a long time, emotions he can't name in her expression. Memories she will not share make her frown, and Eugene feels more and more like he doesn't belong in this moment.

"Should we… bury that with him?" he asks awkwardly. Adira bites her lips, and finally shakes her head.

"This necklace was special for the queen. I know she intended to pass it down to her children."

A terrible voice in Eugene's mind reminds him that it's too late - they both died, and that necklace, that tradition, died with them too. He's hit by the tragedy of it all again, relentlessly reminded that the king passed away long before anyone could try to save him. And they would have, Rapunzel would have convinced him to let her through, she would have given him faith, Eugene is sure of that. He thinks that's why he's angry, too. The king has been dead for years, maybe, alone and desperate until his very last moments. And Eugene, Eugene wishes to go back in time, and give him another chance, get him the help he needed before it was too late.

He has never been good at accepting unhappy endings.

"When… When King Edmund banished us from the Dark Kingdom," Adira continues, "he also made another sacrifice. He sent his son away, when he was barely a baby, to be raised far from the moonstone and its dangers."

Son. A baby, sole survivor of the royal family, who probably doesn't know he is. A baby, who isn't one anymore now, but who is probably alive, and the thought is enough for Eugene to feel something new - he'd call this hope, but he's not sure that it fits. Closure, perhaps.

"You want to give their son the necklace," he smiles shakily.

"That's what needs to be done," Adira agrees, before putting away the necklace in her pocket. The gem catches the moonlight one last time, shining brighter than before, and it's easier for Eugene to let go, this time. "However, I did not keep track of the prince. I don't know what became of him, after we left, but I will keep searching until I find him."

"Hey," Eugene grins, wanting to lighten the atmosphere a little, "you searched for the mystical and maybe non-existent sundrop, and you found it, so I'm sure a prince will be no trouble. And if you need anything, we'll be happy to help," he adds, more earnest this time.

There's a newfound warmth in her eyes, and she inclines her head, acknowledging his words. The situation feels easier, somewhat. They finish replacing the dirt on top of the king's body, and Adira places a little stone to mark the emplacement.

The king is dead, and Cassandra is gone, but Eugene wants to believe that they all can find their own healing in time.

One wrong move reawakens the pain in his arm, and Adira gauges him when he flinches. She tells him that if there are any medical supplies around there, they're probably in the King's personal quarters.

With her instructions, it's not too hard to find them. The bedroom he finds is enormous, which only heightens how empty and dark it feels. Blindly, Eugene makes his way to a window, and pushes the heavy curtains away, letting the moonlight flood the room, and reveal the ambient dust like as many little stars in the night sky.

One side of the bed is unmade. Next to the other, there is an empty crib.

His heart is racing, and he can't explain it. He turns to the bedside table, and does find what appear to be bandages, next to a pile of papers, so close to the bed that it is easy to guess that the king often looked at them. 

Eugene approaches. He tells himself, without much conviction, that he should not look. That even in death the king deserves to keep his privacy. Whatever these papers are, they must have meant a lot to him, keeping him company in his darkest hours, and Eugene doesn't belong in this story.

It only takes him a step, and a second, to recognize his old wanted posters.

[reddogf13]

Escape: To Salvation Ch: 1

Blake X Val

Summery: Blake wakes up in the hell town known as Templegate. confused and alone he must fight through both his past and present for his future. however, hallucinations of festering demons haunt him along with something else more of mortal blood. now he must fight to keep his nightmares and reality separate or succumb to the deadly wilds. however is he truly as alone as he feels in this world?  

status: complete

rated: M - fowl language, sensitive topics, and gore

Prequel/ main series: Escape: Aftermath CH: 20

next chap: Escape: To Salvation CH:2

_____________________________________

~Ch:1 Dust settles~

Blake fell to his knees and watched as the sun grew to burn the earth. The blazing sun blinding him till his eyes blinked. Opening again to the sound of Jessica's voice back in the school. He wasn't sure what was happening now, getting a sense as if he was floating. Following a path to Jessica's voice without an idea of what he felt inside. Depression, anger, Sadness? No, it was just hollow emptiness inside.

“The feeling of being dead.” the thought passed through his mind. Not even feeling any uplifting happiness seeing Jessica alive and well. He got down and prayed with her. Feeling cold and unhappy at the prayer she recited. Then everything went into the darkness. He floated without any thoughts for what seemed like an eternity.

“am I dead? … Did the world die? … What happened to the baby?” Blake thought, the questions passing through at what felt like a snail's pace. The last question kept repeating over and over. Blake was growing desperate to know the child's outcome.

“... did someone find her? … IS she the Antichrist? Is she okay? Is she alive?” Blake questions floated in the darkness. growing from moving at a snail's pace to zooming past. The darkness grew to be suffocating with an unexplained pressure building into a unbearable headache. Just as the pressure felt like his skull was going to split open, it popped. The pressure suddenly uplifted after one large burst of a painful heat, however the suffocation did not.

Blake opened his eyes to take a desperate gasp of air. Blinking for a moment, unmoving, as he gathered the world around him. No more darkness, he was back under the bright burning normal looking sun. the world partially scorched, but only by what seemed like a now long burnt out forest fire. Back in the hell town known as Templegate.

After gathering his surroundings he remembered his questions. Looking down to his arms to find them both bloody and empty. Fear rose along with panic at the baby missing. He quickly looked around for the baby girl. “maybe she just rolled from my hands. Maybe someone found her and took her away. Maybe an animal grabbed her from me for a meal.” Blakes mind raced, the baby's fate getting darker with each thought. He froze when he spotted a trail of fresh boot prints nearby. The tracks walking up to him and stopping before stepping off to the side to walk behind him.

Blake stared at the prints for a moment. Taking a breath of air before slowly and carefully standing. His legs popping and hurting as they moved. Something seemed off based from his last memory. The dirt he partially fell to deeply indented where his legs were. All the blood going across him turned brown from dryness. Some spots cracking off as Blake moved.

“damn, how long was I stuck in that position?” he thought with a wince. Taking note that the sun was now fully above in its afternoon slot when the last point he remembered was it just rising. As soon as he was ready to move he went forward. His body feeling horribly sore and exhausted. Feeling that if he sat down or stopped, he wouldn't be able to go forward again. His stomach painfully hollow with his mouth being as dry as the desert. He focused only on the fresh prints. Ignoring the vast decaying corpses he past. The smell, despite being difficult in the hot sunlight, he also ignored. Seeing that maggots had already infested the bodies. Clearing off huge chunks of meat from the bones. He only took his focus off once the prints lead into a building. Painfully stopping to look up to examine the building. It was a place made with wood with white painted shingles going down the walls. A cross standing at the pointed front of the roof.

Blake sighed, trying to regain some strength to get him moving inside. Getting up onto the small front step seeming the hardest thing in the world at the moment. Then he had to do the second hardest with opening the door. Pain shooting through his holed hand as he turned the knob. He took another deep breath as the door creaked open. Carefully stepping over the small door frame sticking up from the floor to enter.

He walked in with barely a thought to his own safety. He was in barely walk-able shape, forget about being able to fight. Even so, he would save his little girl and at least make sure she was taken someplace safe before collapsing. Hed fight if he had to, but who knows if it'd get him anywhere.

He stopped to catch his breath, recovering as well from the massive pain in his body. Looking over the darkness to try and figure out where to go next. The boot prints quickly disappearing past the doorway. leaving Blake to track whoever without any hints to where they went.

“you live?” a voice spoke from the darkness. Sounding honestly surprised at Blakes appearance. Blake would have jumped from the sudden voice if his body hadn't locked up in pain. He stood silent for a minute to process the voice. Slowly searching the darkness over for the figure. He recognized it, but in the state he was in his brain processed the information slowly. Then he remembered who the speaker was.

“val.” Blake growled in his mind. He swallowed to get ready as if he was going to yell in pure rage, but only ended up letting out a quiet voice. hoarse from lack of water for who knows how long.

“you took her … where is she?” Blake demanded to know, while trying to keep his body from collapsing. “the girl? She's long since passed in that chapel.” val answered, sounding calm but tired.

“no, the baby!” Blake snapped, he didn't want to deal with val. He didn't want to play a game of ring around the Rosie with questions.

“there was no baby.” val stated, sounding unfazed by Blakes tone. Blake remained silent for a second, confused. “Of course there was a baby. How could val say there wasn't? She- he- whatever was the one obsessed about bringing it into the world. Why suddenly reject its existence?!” Blakes mind went through the questions. Slowly processing through them.

“where'd you take her?!” Blake questioned, growing angry. Val sighed and finally moved to look toward him from a seated spot. Blake noticing her movement in the dark and facing her with an expression of hatred mixed with pain.

“there was no baby. Knoth convinced both of us though, didn't he?” val stated, anger pouring into her own words now.

“yes there was! Why else- why else go through all that?! You knew, it was obvious! You can't say she wasn't!” Blake snapped. Yelling in frustration only to stop so he could swallow a small amount of spit for his dry throat. Referring to how lynn was both obviously and heavily pregnant.

“i saw her birth it. I held her in my hands as lynn died on that torture table! Now where is she dammit!!” Blake began to roar. Tears welling up in his eyes as he spoke.

“there was no baby!! it was like every other pregnancy, nothing!! There. Was. Nothing!” val roared back, seeming just as angry with heavy disappointment underneath.

“... what? … I held her! She was there, crying. ... Knoth saw her too!” Blake argued again. Only now he was beginning to question himself. He was remembering all he went through now, including the Jessica hallucinations that seemed so real. Then there was also that moment with what lynn had said “there's nothing there” lynns words echoed repeatedly in his head.

“but, Knoth saw.” he spoke again, his heart slowly crumbling away. He saw val shake their head afterwards. “Knoth sees what he wants. She wasn't the first to bare the “Antichrist” or the first we managed to take from Knoth either. No child had been born at full term in years. It was either a early miscarriage or a false pregnancy. Killing the “birthing mothers” as the blood left them. Either way Knoth claimed he saw the devil child. Killing it after performing some false words before thrusting the blade.” val explained as Blake stood there quietly, mainly in an attempt to regain his voice.

“so … why was mine so different?” he asked.

“strange circumstance, same reason why we desperately kept her for the birth. Usually Knoth claimed someone he bedded with lust was carrying the evil. We would grab them in some cases with the event ending all the same. You and the girl however, fell from the sky into a fiery blaze upon landing. Everyone saw the whole thing. Knoth unfortunately made it there first, but that was a small misstep.” val explained, taking in a disappointed breath.

“he always came first.” the figure shrouded in darkness joked with a snicker. A remark Blake recognized as on the sexual side. Being not much in the mood for Vals forward humor on the subject, he gave a unamused look. “ … we thought it'd be different. That it was real this time. everything showed the signs it was and then … here we are. My loves had their throats slit or were crushed by the crumbling tunnels. I barely got out through the collapsed rock. i expected the world to shift, the earth to crack … but I only had the darkness take me over. I felt satisfied, my purpose complete, I welcomed the pain in the dark, then it ended. I was forced awake back into the world I felt I was past. I found the girl, recognized her body's state being like all the others, but at least it ended Knoth. He had finally lost and died like a coward. I wished it had been me to feel his warm blood pool onto my body.” Val spoke, her voice growing in disappointment. Looking toward the ground with a pause.

“Quite a time has past here before I woke. The rot has set in to be two days old on the dead. You were in that dark place a day longer than me, how was it?” val finished off with a question. Blake stood there, glaring in deep hatred. His mind going back and forth on whether val was telling the truth.

After a moment's thought he accepted Val was telling the truth. She never really lied, val never cared about that like Knoth did, but that also came with accepting the baby's nonexistence. It hurt Blake deeply, he pushed so hard to save lynn and failed. At the time he hoped to at least save his little girl, but she never existed either. He sighed in exhaustion, looking toward the dirty wood floor. Wondering what to do next. His only thought being he wanted to sit and maybe sleep for 10 years. He looked up to stare at val. Watching to see what she- he? Was possibly going to do. Val didn't seem to really move besides in taking a breath. Blake closed his eyes for a moment before gaining enough strength to move again. Walking back out the building onto the flat wood step. At this point Blake didn't care. He was too exhausted and practically went through everything already. Val didn't seem to react, staying in her seated spot. Not even bothering to look at him. Blake was thankful that val looked to be dressed again. He really didn't want to see that naked mud image right now. As he tried to move off the step his body collapsed onto the wood. Any attempt at getting up proving fruitless for his weakened body.

“val said she blacked out for two days based on how far the rot has been on the corpses. I was out for an extra day, so I was in some comatose state for three days?!” Blake thought, now realizing how desperately bad his bodies state was.

“... if I don't get up now, ... i'll die, ... but would it be so bad?” he wondered as he closed his eyes for just a second.

when he opened his eyes the sun was down, Blake had only fallen asleep this time. The next time however, it would definitely be his last if he didn't find food or water.

He looked around and didn't see Vals presence anywhere from his view into the darkened doorway of the building. He sat up with a few pops to his neck and back from the strange sleeping position. His body feeling a bit more energized, but the pain remaining.

Blake sat there for a while to debate on what he should do next. No lynn, no baby, now what? His only thought was to save himself, but there was no way he would get far in his current condition. He needed to find more bandages, hopefully some alcohol in the damned town, and some food and water while searching. “i swear if val plans to jump me.” he growled to himself. Wondering where val went and what they could possibly be doing with nobody around anymore.

He painfully stood to walk off the wood step. Squinting up at the bright moonlight. Gagging a bit at the rotten body smell mixing with a new one. Burnt flesh, it seems val had been busy doing some clean up. “fucking great.” Blake grumbled toward the smoldering body pile. He continued on slowly, looking about the town. It was the first time he was able to actually able to look at things. As far as he knew he no longer had to fear towns people with machetes or Marta coming at him. At the notice of a dark shape of a tree he stopped. discovering Knoths hanging body, or what's left of him.

Hanging from a tall almost black tree knoths organs were ripped out to be strung around the branches. All sorts of objects from glass, knifes, table legs to branches, iron bars, and barbed wire stabbed or strung all through him like thread through a cloth. His face carved up almost beyond all recognition while also being burned just as much as the others. If Blakes mouth wasn't so dry he'd probably spit at the hanging corpse.

“good riddance.” Blake thought before slowly moving again. “fuck, where the hell can I find water. No way i am drinking from the well here.” Blake thought as he carefully walked into one of the shack houses. He was fully prepared to just accept death by dehydration over who knows what in the water. Taking note of more dead bodies as he started rummaging through the cabinets for food, water, or anything useful.

“more bandages, that's one thing.” Blake mumbled to himself as he stuffed a couple rolls into his bag. The rest of the house proved fruitless, along with the next three before he found a non rotten apple in the forth. He really wanted just pure water in a bottle, but he couldn't be choosy. Taking a bite of the apple then just sucking on it to try and get a nice mouthful of juice.

“these people don't have anything. Where's all the food? In the fields? Fuck, mite just have to drink from the well. Eat some of the dead fish rotting in the lake.” he thought in disgust as he moved to another shack. “still nothing.” he sighed, slamming a fridge full of old rotten vegetables. Already he was beginning to feel exhausted again. Getting frustrated as he knew he'd only been awake for maybe 15 minutes. He preferred to find more food and water first before slipping into a sleep coma. He sighed in agitation before deciding to find a room he could close off.

When he did find one in the upper stairs of a building. He blocked the door off before sitting down on the bed. Letting out a groan of pain at everything hurting. Blake sat there for a moment till he gained a little more energy. Looking to his badly injured and bloody hands.

“maybe i'll get a miracle and the tap will work.” he thought, painfully getting up to go to a nearby bathroom. He held his breath as he turned the brass nozzle. Letting out a breath of relief at the clean looking water. He worked as fast as he could, to scrub his hands clean. Then quickly trying to clean every other part of him. He could have tried the shower, but he really didn't want to strip here and get into a vulnerable spot.

Almost all of the blood, mud, and dirt was cleaned away. Blake getting a much clearer look at the holes in his hand. Hissing a bit as they were painfully sore and still bleeding quite a bit. He tried to dry them with a small piece off the new bandage. Hoping they would clot slightly as to not bleed so much. They seemed to slowly stop bleeding as a new scab formed at the wound.

After re-wrapping them in new bandage he stared at the flow of sink water. Smacking his dry mouth. He really didn't want to drink any water in this town, but he had to drink something. So he quickly gulped down a mouthful. Giving up his resistance soon after to guzzle down mouthful after mouthful of water from the tap. His body feeling major relief at the introduction of hydration.

He gasped for air after filling his stomach to the brim with just water, shutting off the tap afterwards. He headed back to the bed to fully lay down this time. Looking toward a nearby widow with moon light pouring through the dust covered glass. For a moment the thought of maybe someone else besides val stalking the town entered his mind. Should he find somewhere more hidden to sleep? At this point though, Blake didn't care. He was far too injured and tired. He didn't want to run again, and couldn't even if he tried. while at this point death would be a welcoming away from all the pain. He closed his eyes and in seconds was fast asleep.

Blake woke up to the morning sun blazing into his eyes. Squinting before carefully sitting up with a stiff groan. He rubbed his face as he put his feet onto the hardwood floor.

“find food, bottled water, and alcohol possibly.” he thought. Deep in his mind he knew the alcohol would most likely be nonexistent in this town. Alcohol wasn't looked too kindly on in religion.

“maybe I could find a bottle of wine in the chapel.” Blake thought. His heart seized at remembering lynn was dead inside that building. He'd have to face her body again once he entered. He swallowed hard wondering if hed have the strength to even face her.

He got up to slowly work his way back to the chapel. Upon seeing her body from the doorway he froze. Staring as he held back the tears welling up in his eyes. He quickly swallowed them down into the painful pit in his stomach. Carefully walking down the mostly clear isle up to her.

He swallowed down at the painful disgusting sight of maggots swarming over her. He looked away to take a few deep breaths. Desperate to hold himself together. Looking back when he felt he was ready. He needed to cover her body before he could move it.

“wrap her up in something.” he thought, looking around the chapel. Deciding on a nice piece of curtain hanging over a window. He returned to lynn with the large bundled up curtain in his hands. Carefully covering her before slowly wrapping the thing around till she was fully bundled up in the fabric.

“at least val didn't desecrate you. … I hope.” he spoke to himself. A thought of him not being entirely sure as she was stuck with val for an entire night, although he rather not think of that.

“i need to bury her, but do I want to bury her in this hell town?” he thought. In the end having no choice. He knew he couldn't carry her far, but he could at least take her to the forest edge. Past all the rotten bodies and crumbling buildings.

“Someplace under a nice tree.” he thought, leaving her body for the moment. He wanted to dig a deep grave first before carrying her body out. He searched around a bit managing to find a nice shovel. Going slightly past the town to now find a tree. Coming across a large green pine that just managed to survive the fire. Half of its green top being singed from the flames that were now long dead.

Blake returned to the chapel with his eyes welling up the entire way. By the time he reached her body the tears were overflowing.

“i'm sorry, i am so so sorry, I should have been faster. I could have made it. You could have lived, but I couldn't help you.” he cried, trying to wipe all the tears away only for the streams to be quickly replaced. He took a long deep breath to calm himself. Hugging her wrapped body for a moment before picking her up into his arms. His whole body locked up in agony from the extra weight. He stood frozen in place with her weight in his arms and took in another deep breath. Slowly working his way toward the grave, taking deep breaths the whole way in an attempt to keep his strength up.

Once at the grave he carefully got to his knees before slipping one leg after the other into the grave. Gently setting her down and fixing up her wrappings. Tears started to heavily flow again requiring him to sit next her in the grave to regain himself. He took a few deep breaths, wiped away the tears. Giving lynn's forehead a final goodbye kiss with his hand then climbed out of the grave. Standing tall next to the grave lynn was now resting in, he looked to the sky to gather some words.

“a good friend, a loving wife, never forgotten. Rest in peace … wherever you are.” Blake spoke clearly as if speaking to a actual crowd at a funeral. He folded his hands over each other and lowered his head for a moment of silence.

“amen.” Blake said in a way to end the funeral, although the word seemed sour to him. After all this his faith was even more crippled than before. All sorts of questions on why this happened passing through his mind. He wasn't going to debate it though. He was tired of religion and if who ever existed he no longer cared. Blake was going to leave it all at that. He just wanted to move on.

Blake grabbed the near by shovel and began to slowly fill in the grave. Trying his hardest not to fall apart as lynn was covered. His body was exhausted by the time he was done. The afternoon sun now shining over head. The town actually looked remotely nice in the bright sun. not every pile of dirt or tree looking like some horrified monster ready to grab hold. Much easier to see the annoying small cacti Blake remembered from all the past needles stuck in his leg.

He grabbed a nearby small wooden cross he made out of two thick branches and a tied cloth. Setting it at the head of the grave almost against the trunk of the large pine. He smoothed out the grave and circled its edging with all the nice stones and flowers he could find. Finally adding the last touch of a handful of both pink and white flowers he plucked off a cacti.

“you didn't deserve this.” Blake spoke to the grave. Shutting his eyes tight as he took a deep breath. Opening them again once he felt like he wouldn't cry again. He looked down at the grave before turning away to search the town again for supplies.

The rest of the day was unfruitful for anything. All the food old and maggot infested with no water insight. “i guess if worse comes to worse, at least I got a maggot farm.” Blake thought. His face crinkling in disgust at the thought of eating a wriggling maggot. He sat down at the stairs of a building he just left. Looking out toward Lynn's marked grave and noticing something. Val was standing near it. Blake filled with hatred glared hard enough to try burning a hole in the back of her head.

“if Val dares desecrate Lynn's grave they're going to pay.” Blake growled in his mind. Holding his glare on the unmoving figure that stared down toward the grave. He finally relaxed when Val began moving away from lynn's resting place, but not entirely. His paranoia of maybe something small was done while he wasn't looking bringing him to look over the grave. Blake stood by with an agitated expression as he examined all over the grave for any difference. Even checking the dirt for anything drawn into it. Nothing was different on the grave or anything done to the tree either.

He sighed in relief as he was not in the mood to clean up some carving or blood painted symbols. Or whatever Val may have been wanting to do. Then he turned his attention toward the fresh tracks in anger. He hated them being near and quickly scuffed fresh soil over all the nearby tracks to rid the area of there existence.

After clearing a 15 foot area surrounding the grave he went to tiredly sit by the grave. He leaned his head back to rest it against the tree. Finding himself immediately falling asleep again. When he woke only a few hours later he saw more of Vals tracks leading near the grave and away. Blake growled out of anger at seeing the tracks. Getting up to again carefully examine the grave for desecration in any way. Again, thankfully, finding nothing. Again, like before, he swept away the invading tracks in a 15 foot area around the grave. Growing quickly exhausted, thirsty, and his stomach painfully growling. He'd only eaten a apple and hot pocket within the last 4 days. The hot pocket he grabbed before the regretful helicopter trip here. He walked away from the grave to only make it 10 feet. Looking back in paranoia at leaving the grave unguarded.

He swallowed in nervousness until his painful stomach growling made him wince. He was mentally kicking himself as he left the unguarded grave, but he desperately needed food. Blake went even deeper into the town to search new areas for supplies. Finding a few more bandages and even a few useless battery's. After Knoth died and before his black out he remembered losing grip on his camera along the way. And at this point he didn't care to search for it either. It was probably laying in a pool of bloody mud and or sewage at this point. Maybe even Val took it and burned it in the body pile, who knows.

As he walked across the open dirt patch between houses he noticed more of Vals boot prints crisscrossing over the dirt. Glaring down at them, knowing Val had already raided the houses here. “probably snatched up any supplies. Fuck, now what then?” Blake thought, looking up to the bright sky momentarily in exhaustion. Now his options being between maggot farming, or picking a floating fish from the diseased lake full of mercury.

“yay to eventually looking like the mad hatter.” Blake spoke with a huff.

“maybe there's a farm around here. There has to be, no way they could feed so many from a bag of groceries fetched from a real outside town. I ran through that corn field at one point. didn't look like there was any corn though from what I remember.” he noted in his mind.

“which way to go?” he thought, looking at the varying paths leading in all directions. From all his running around he had no idea where anything was. Running through the whole night also muddling his whole sense of direction. He got an idea to look at where the sun was. It was past noon so wherever the sun was heading down to it lead toward the west. It didn't help him much in deciding a path, but he could just barely remember where the sun was before the helicopter ride and the direction they flew in.

from there he tried hard to remember every direction he walked in since the crash. Unfortunately his memory were more like blinks. He could only get points A and B of certain places. The whole between just seemed like a black warped puddle with the flash of something fuzzy forming now and again.

He found his memory no use. instead deciding to approach the best guess option. Looking at the tree lines for a thin or cleared area. Farming wasn't exactly a small patch to clear of trees. Soon spotting a massive open area between the tree line and heading straight for it. A 10 minute walk leading him up face to face with possibly the same corn field he zigzagged through.

Blake examined the stalks as he walked between the rows. Seeing no evidence of any corn. Assuming that maybe the town had harvested and eaten it all already. He noticed a bright color orange from between the long rows as he got deeper into them. Heading toward it expecting it to be leftover corn, but instead. “ … pumpkins... ?” Blake stated out loud in the middle of a pumpkin patch. Looking like none of them were harvested yet.

“had to be pumpkins. Couldn't have been something easy like fucking potatoes, but no. I don't even know how to really peel a orange I always needed lynn to do it for me. How the fuck do I eat a pumpkin?!” Blake spoke to himself. Knowing he was definitely not a cook of out of the way veggies. Usually working with simple potatoes or the most complicated being peas in a pod.

“i've heard of diced pumpkin, so do I peel it then chop it? I know I can bake the seeds, but can I also cook the guts and eat it??” Blake spoke to himself.

“if there was ever a time to figure out my own pumpkin pie recipe, it'd be now.” Blake joked. He always joked as some kind of protection mechanism. It helped uplift his spirits when down, even just a little helped him keep going.

Blake picked up a nice sized pumpkin about the size of his head. Taking it back to lynns grave and setting it down momentarily. He was happy to see no new tracks from Val around the area. Now his new goal was to find supplies for a fire and some sort of cooking pan.

“hopefully Val wont snatch it and get her own from the pumpkin patch.” Blake thought while searching the nearby shacks. Finding a pan and a small box of matches pretty quickly. Getting a lucky find of a small clean white pouch that could hold pumpkin seeds well. Returning to his pumpkin to create a small fire pit ringed with rocks. He piled a bunch of twigs and handfuls of dry leaves into the small pit. Lighting a match to place on the dry pile. Now he had to figure out what to do with the pumpkin. His best bet was roasting seeds and collect a whole bags worth of them. They would last as long as they did not get wet.

Blake grabbed a nearby broken shard of metal off a gate. He looked it over to see if there was any strange substance on it and found nothing. Leaning it against the wall to force it into a curved hook before he brought it to the fire. Letting it sit over the flames to clean anything he couldn't see sitting on the surface. then began his task of carefully carving a hole at the top of the pumpkin as if starting a jack o lantern. Picking out all the seeds he could to throw into the empty pan.

He roasted a good cup full of seeds till they turned a golden brown. Eating a few to test them determining them worthy of being stored in the pouch. Leaving still a lot of empty space for at least 6 more cup fulls of seeds inside the bag. After the pan was cleared Blake took his chances with trying to prepare the pumpkin guts. Cutting out the annoying pile and slopping it all into the pan with a sizzle as the wet goop hit the hot metal.

He sat there watching the goop pile slowly cook. Turning and mixing it with the metal piece, but finding it hard to determine if it was done or not. Half was still raw goop and the other half was now suddenly burnt. Before the last bit of it was burnt he took it off the fire to cool. Throwing more branches into the fire to keep it going. He decided he would stay by lynns grave to keep watch with the fire keeping him warm in the night.

He mixed the oddly looking pile, at this point just playing with his food. Afraid to take the first bite. He swirled it onto the metal piece like stringing noodles. Taking his first bite and scrunching up at the burnt taste covered in half slimy texture. As the first shock of flavor past he started unhappily chewing. Deciding it was better then nothing while saving the seeds for emergency case. By the end of it he was getting a bit sick from the disgusting flavor. Thankful that it was all done and gone at least till his next pumpkin. The rest of the pumpkin he would scrape out the sides and try to cook tomorrow.

He sat by the grave to lean against the tree. Sitting there and watching the sun pass into night. Making sure to keep the fire going as much as he could to keep the area lit. who knows what Val was doing out in the darkness. Honestly he really didn't want to know after all he had seen Val do. As long as they stayed far away from him that's all Blake cared for.

“if i keep going at this pace, MAYBE, I'll have enough strength to walk back in a day or two.” he thought, the back of his mind arguing the time frame to be more like a week.

“no way i am staying that long. I'll take my chances hitch hiking in the forest. Once I get home ill recover lynns body and give a proper funeral in a nice cemetery. Have this place burned to the ground with flame throwers. Probably the only way to cleanse this area of all the pollution of disease. Especially that “quarantine” area.” he grumbled in thought.

“wonder if any of the ill survived up in the mountains? Probably not with how bad that storm was. Landslide, fallen trees, and rocks would have buried them.” Blake thought. He threw a bunch more wood onto the fire, curling up against the tree to slowly drift to sleep.

The next morning he woke to a familiar sight of Vals boot prints walking nearby before going off. “ugh.” he thought with a glare. Getting up to check the grave again. Seeing nothing still and again scuffing the prints away. The feeling of paranoia coming up as he realized how close Val was getting to him in his sleep. Maybe he should go indoors from now on. That meant leaving lynn's grave unguarded however.

“i have to let go. Cant keep guarding the dead forever.” he thought. Lynn was dead now, nothing could bring her back. So why was he so diligently guarding her grave? Wanting to feel like he accomplished protecting in some way? He wasn't able to protect Jessica, wasn't able to keep lynn safe. He failed and now the last thing he wanted to do was fail a third time. Last thing he wanted to see was lynn unburied to be put up for some satanic display by Val.

Blake looked toward the sun to get the jest of what time of day it was. The sun was up a bit past sunrise but not close to afternoon yet. He yawned and stretched his cramped body. He was feeling a little better. Still sore in the legs with pain in his injured hands, but feeling much more well rested.

Blake then recalled why he went into the chapel in the first place. He wanted to find some wine or alcohol of sorts for his hands. Maybe for everything else if he found enough. Even after the small sink bath his skin still felt stained with who knows what. Inside the chapel he looked around the front podium for some sort of small storage of wine. Finding nothing his attention turned toward a shut door to the side. Trying to open the door gave no effect.

“locked? In a town that leaves everything open?” Blake wondered. Grabbing a nearby metal bar to thrust it into the door wedge. Leaning back to provide force into the door. The door creaking as it bent in a way it wasn't supposed to before shooting open as the door broke away from the locked knob.

“geeze, some fucking lock.” Blake thought, examining the knob still attached to the lock in the door frame. “why so protective of this room?” he wondered, knowing that the common lock around here was a slider over the doorway.

“ah, now I know why.” he said. Looking at the vast fancy decorating. Nice rugs, fancy bedding, large nice wood crosses, bottles of pills everywhere, a desk covered in radio equipment and wires heading out a window near the roof. Boxes of jewelry, empty wallets, a stack of bibles.

“knoths room.” Blake answered to himself. Avoiding in touching anything. Only doing so to grab a pill bottle that looked untouched so far.

“penicillin … I mite need these.” Blake recalled with his time in the quarantine area.

“Better safe than sorry.” he said before grabbing a couple of the untouched bottles and immediately swallowing two of the pills. Thankfully the labels said they were not expired yet. Hopefully he didn't manage to catch 10 different diseases.

He looked about the room, examining the radio at first to see if he could get an outside signal for a call to help. No success as only one channel seemed active which Blake could hear the microphones outside slightly buzzing or pooling static from a broken wire setup. He quickly switched it off with an aggravated huff.

His attention was then turned toward the boxes of valuables. Empty wallets cleared of cards or anything cash worthy. The jewelry being items containing large diamonds, probably solid gold or silver chains. Even expensive name brand watches among the pile.

“Knoth needed money somehow for his drug dealers. Cash out peoples cards, use cash, trade in at pawn. Not like his people would care there cards were maxed out while living away from society with debt collectors.” Blake said to himself.

He continued looking about the room. Again being careful with what exactly he was touching or rubbing his hands against.

“score!” Blake spoke excitedly as he found a couple bottles of unopened water by the bed. Removing batteries to shove them into the bag around his waist, just barely managing to fit them. He moved onto searching the drawers managing to find more useful items.

“jack Daniels, that will definitely work.” he said, undoing the bloody bandages and quickly soaking them in a large splash of the alcohol. Hissing as they both burned as if on fire. As the pain came it was quickly washed over with relief at fully having the wounds cleaned out now. Getting another bandage out to soak it slightly in a few drops before wrapping his hands with it. As Blake finished tying off the bandage he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning quickly enough to just catch a glimpse of Val disappearing from view. He stood there frozen to watch the doorway to the empty room. Waiting to see if Val would show herself again. she definitely didn't want to be seen by him as she watched what he was doing.

“maybe val was attracted by the radio coming on, afraid Knoth may have risen from the grave. I would have checked too if I suddenly heard them switching on.” he thought. He wasn't so afraid of Val out in the day in town. It was at night when he couldn't see three feet in front of him or when he was forced into a small dark space with her when he was afraid. Val wasn't so intimidating when she was pretty much the only one left. No one to back her in a fight or jump in if she had trouble. Easier advantage in a cramped tunnel over open town space. Blake was sure that Val knew that too.

“i wonder if that's why she does nightly visits? Testing how close she can get to jump me in my sleep?” he thought as he returned to searching the room. He started looking underneath the furniture. Finding mainly dust bunnies or cobwebs. Something caught his eye under the bed however. A small perfect hole the size of a quarter. He reached over and pulled up by using the hole.

After using a bit of force he assumed maybe it was nothing. But the hole seemed so out of place for him. He grabbed the hole and wiggled it a bit. The board sliding in one direction before popping up. It surprised Blake as he fully moved the board out of the way. Seeing a small hidden space containing a small black book with a bunch of pens and nothing else. He took out the small book, crawling out from under the bed, to look inside. “looks like knoths diary.” Blake sighed as he saw all those stupid gospels he wrote. A bunch of references to the actual bible. Some of his daily writings repeating the general message of “the end is near!” on every ending page. He flipped toward the front of the book finding something new. something with the government raid on the last place Knoth and his disciples lived.

 “ DEC, 10th 1969 me and what's left of my flock are moving to new lands, someplace safe from peering eyes of the enemy who wishes to stop me. The government has already taken so much, how much more do they want? Now they mite be taking my followers faith in me. I've been getting many questions I do not like being asked. Questions of why I didn't foresee the raid, why god let over half of us be dragged away. Why my promises of protection and peacefulness were broken.

I've been managing to keep them at bay through words of “its what god chooses”. Usually i am spoken to by the lord so that I know the correct answer to such questions. It seems god wants me to do this on my own. It must be a test to make sure I can keep my flock faithful. Even with Marta by my side I can only make them fear me for so long. Marta can handle a few men revolting, but a whole mob? I doubt that despite Martas words of reassurance she'll take care of them. I don't want my whole flock to abandon my words and leave me with only a minor few. Or have Marta hang them when we should really be sticking together in these trying times to the new lands.

While Marta is my right hand, I am missing a left. Sure there is always laird who follows me without question, but he isn't so well on the eyes and can be too aggressive on those questioning me. I need someone with a more delicate touch of speaking. Someone intimidating, but soft enough to be approached, and above all highly devoted to me. I have a feeling laird won't be around us for much longer either. He's been doing his best to hide the symptoms of sickness, but I see it. After we are settled in the new lands and I no longer need his help in overlooking the work I will send him away.”

  Blake flipped through the next few pages, finding nothing else besides same old same old. Templegate founding celebration, town built, blah blah. For a moment Blake debated on burning the diary so some poor soul wouldn't get sucked into the lies and spread the evil of knoths gospel. It may have more interesting information though as it was so carefully hidden. Knoth wasn't exactly known for hiding his teachings so this book might be holding delicate information Knoth never wanted to see the light of day. looked to have pages written for each day going back over 42 years. Would be nice to know where all this madness grew from for curiosity's sake.

He shoved the book into his jacket pocket, aiming to read more later in the night. He determined he had gathered everything useful from the room. Heading out back to lynns grave. Blake stopped in his tracks at seeing multiple boot prints swarming all around the grave. All of them left by one person. Now Val was doing this on purpose. He let out a yelling growl in anger toward the sky since Val wasn't present for him to yell at.

“i am going to snap your ankles when I get the chance!!” he shouted generally into the air. Not entirely meaning it as he knew he wasn't in good condition to fight. He once again checked over the grave, finding again to be untouched although the footprints did get incredibly close to the graves edge. The prints also having a pattern of purpose. Leaving prints around the grave in a pacing motion before making rings spreading out from the grave and then turning random. However all the prints were kept within the exact 15 foot radius Blake never wanted them to be in.

he grumbled to himself about being sick of this as he scuffed all the prints away. Getting the help from a twiggy branch he used as a makeshift broom on the dirt. When he was done he tossed the branch off to the side, spotting Vals tracks heading off in a quick manner. He growled at being left exhausted from cleaning up prints again. This needed to stop, NOW, before Val took it any further. He was tired of being tired at fixing up the mess everyday. He followed after the tracks with the idea of where they lead coming into question. Would they lead to another mine? Another town building? Was Val purposely leading him somewhere? Did she even expect him to follow this time?

He came to a small cliff edge clearing able to spot Val immediately. He stopped as he saw her peering out from behind a tree, but not toward him. she was looking intently at something down the small cliff edge. He glared at the back of there head. Confused but not really caring about whatever crazy thing they were doing currently. “hey!” Blake snapped at Val. she turned to look at him as if knowing he was there the entire time. Shushing him with a calm expression.

“they're searching.” Val spoke in an ominous manner before turning back to whatever they were looking at. Blake stared confused at her before walking forward a bit. Making sure not to get too close to Val. He looked across the lower forest area till he saw the movement of a group wearing black uniforms.

“police officers?! there searching for me and lynn. our hotel probably called police since we never officially checked out.” Blake stated.

“that's not what there here for.” Val stated.

“what else would they be here for!?” Blake argued.

“strangers don't just find Templegate. They've been here before and have come to fulfill a personal goal. Just like everyone else who has gathered to Templegate.” Val answered. Blake huffed at that answer.

“well i am going to meet them and getting out of this dump.” Blake stated before turning back to find a way down.

“the outsiders are not friendly.” Val warned, turning to look toward Blake.

“what would you know?! You think everybody's the enemy!” he snapped angrily.

“I know Templegate better than you do. Their outsiders that shouldn't be here.” Val warned, When finished she turned away to head back toward the town.

“whatever. … lunatic.” Blake said with the last part only being in thought.

As Val left his sight he made his way down. Walking through the forest brush toward the group. As he drew closer he felt the need to be silent. Something felt wrong deep inside.

“pfft, Vals lunatic talk is getting to me. Its nothing. There looking for me and lynn, Vals probably afraid of being arrested. doesn't want me to rat on her to police. No where for Val to escape now. Why else would they possibly be here?!” Blake tried to reassure in his mind.

He was coming up upon the uniformed men. Getting ready to call out when he noticed the men weren't just in regular uniform. It was bulky, like a swat team uniform. Having patches on their shoulders of a strange logo with the word Murkoff underneath. Blake swallowed as he examined the group more closely. Alongside the swat uniforms they were carrying heavy military fire power in their hands. This was no longer seeming like just a search party. He moved up just enough so he could stand behind a nearby tree. Listening carefully as the group talked amongst themselves. Still unaware of Blakes existence.

[thewillingnessproject]

Why you shouldn’t shame a narcissist

We can trace narcissistic behaviors to a narrow set of coping strategies for anxiety.

In other words, a method for controlling the environment to reduce certain thoughts and feelings that are painful to experience. Someone who is "a narcissist" is someone who engages in behaviors to manipulate the environment in order to reduce the turmoil that's inside of them.

Most narcissists suffer greatly from feelings of inferiority and fear of abandonment. They lack a fledged out "I"- a sense of "self"- and make up for that by generating a grandiose, bold identity. It's an armor. It looks tough, but it's frail.

Narcissists put a lot of effort into controlling their environment, too. Because life is often unpredictable, and the sad truth that people do leave (they die, change jobs, etc.), trying to hold onto the goodness of connection and so on, results in the unwanted feelings. For instance, I have a mentor who lived nearby for a few years. She then moved hours away. It happens. For some people, however, abandonment (or FEAR of abandonment) can lead to developing narcissistic traits.

Narcissism isn't a disease. It's an adaptive method of control. Some LEARNS these behaviors.

So narcissists will tend to make a lot of chaos. As long as they were responsible for it, they feel a sense of control. It's kind of a paradox: more chaos mean more sense of control. Narcissists push people away. Again, they don't get the connection they deeply desire, but at least they were in charge of the pushing, and weren't abandoned by someone else.

It's a vacuum, however. Because the controlling leads to more chaos and loneliness, the temporary relief from fear works, but the long term relief is never gained. So narcissists get very good at manipulating the environment to make it seem like it's not them, it's you. Doing so gets them off the hook for their own self-defeating behaviors.

Partners of narcissists, for instance, are often confused, unsure if they are responsible for problems. They might be manipulated into apologizing for their behavior, when actuality, it's their narcissistic partners who are problematic.

We all possess some narcissism. In small dosages it's normal and not often an issue. Many celebrities and politicians are more narcissistic than others, though- reaching a status of power creates a sense of control. Again, the environment might be controlled, but the internal fears and lack of "I" festers and festers. More power is gained. More fear.

Only narcissists who are willing to step out of this cycle can begin to develop new, more functional behaviors.

This article is about the narcissist who isn't:

So, let's just say, hypothetically, that we have a narcissist in a position of extreme power, like a president, (or something). And let's say that this president (or whatever position) is nearing the end of his term. That's right: he might be losing power, losing control of his environment. It's very likely his manipulative behaviors will increase in a desperate grasp for control.

Someone in this position will lean towards eliciting chaos, fear, anger, and so on because, once again, it's more predictable than harmony, closeness, and wellness.

Let's say someone like this is president during a pandemic. He likely didn't start the pandemic, but he will absolutely want to leverage the chaos and fear a pandemic creates in people.

And if the climate is- (still hypothetically, of course)- in a terrible state, this same politician might want to disrupt the climate more, harm the environment more. He might want to drill deeper. There's some power in that, when the reverse- trying to heal the planet- is a bigger unknown.

And let's say that something like racism is an entrenched and horrific source of separation and anger. This guy didn't start racism, but he will leverage it for his own benefit.

Therefore, you have someone who wants you to feel angry at him, to yell at him, to fight him. This ensures he has a sense of power and control. He adds it to his armor. He's not the problem. You are because you're the one yelling and fussing. He's in power and only doing his job.

And, like most narcissists, this person of power will likely be very good at having people feel confused, angry, isolated, and so on.

He may, for instance, want people in masks, not because it's a healthy thing to do, but because it covers up our faces. We can't see or connect with people. The masks elicit a sense of fear and division. This matches this guy's own inability to connect with people, and constant fear of "getting to close to someone."

If he can't get close to others, he won't want you to be able to either!

If you don't agree with the policies, bullshit tweets, and responses to global crises that this person makes, you might call him out. You might swear about him on social media. You might argue with him. You might feel angry, scared, and so on. It certainly feels productive to hold him accountable by not ignoring his unhelpful, destructive behaviors.

However, I urge you to consider that your approach might actually be fueling the narcissist.

He wants to be pushed away, wrong, and terrible. This proves his schema of a broken, messed up fake. He doesn't have to change because he's right. You're wrong.

To work with narcissists, I'm going to encourage you to get beneath this armor and speak to the wounded, frail disaster within. When he wants to take rights away from the LGBTQ+ community, you can say:

"I can see why you'd want to do that. This community has been gaining support and rights, and is a strong, beautiful community fighting for the goodness of all people. I'm not surprised you're trying to hurt something so much more powerful than you are."

When he tells police to "not be so nice" to "criminals", you can say:

"I'm not surprised you want people to be meaner to one another. If people are kind to one another, there's no disconnect. We're all working together. Except you. You're on the outs. No one can work with you. It's us against you. Too bad you can't be a part of us. We are strong and powerful."

Beyond that, can you love the narcissist?

I'm not saying adore, praise, or admire him. I'm saying love him. A mother who loves her child will hold him accountable for his actions. Love is unpredictable, uncontrollable. To tell the narcissist, "You must be suffering a great deal inside. No one suffering that much would try and hurt others. I see your vast suffering. I'm going to ask that you find another way to heal your own pain. This way will not work."

I read many honest, sometimes humorous stabs at particular narcissists in power right now. One by Motley Crew drummer Tommy Lee is particularly enjoyable.

I appreciate the brutal pushing, the naming of his fucked up behaviors. I also know that this gives the narcissist the sense of power he wants.

We do need social change. Big time. Our education, penal, food, and health systems need drastic overhauls. Any anger, confusion, hatred, or scorn you feel is completely valid. I'm not asking you to ignore those feelings. I'm suggesting that how you go about making change isn't going to work. It's going to make things worse.

I, for one, hope to help narcissists contact the pain beneath their armor. I want them to know that I see them for who they are beneath the facade; wounded and scared. I don't want to let them trick me into interacting with the armor. There are many ways to fight injustice, times and places to shout, scream, yell, speak, be heard. Don't go silent.

Hold boundaries with the narcissist in a dispassionate way. Say, "This is the limit." And importantly, don't disconnect, isolate, operate from fear or rage. This feeds the narcissistic traits in an otherwise hurt person.

[freifraufischer]

1. The last time Regina lost love, she ripped Snow's baby away. Snow has long since forgiven her for that, and even gotten over the feeling of guilt for being able to forgive Regina for hurting her child. But she can't help but remember the aftermath of Daniel's death, the festering bitterness that had taken hold of Regina's soul in the long years of loneliness that followed, and she hopes with all her might that her stepmother will not close herself in again.

2. She is afraid that she is the last person Regina would want to see, so soon after Robin's death. But Henry can only do so much; Regina would never burden him with the full weight of her sorrow. And Emma is...unavailable, struggling with the loss of the person she'd wished to share her heart with.A part of Snow feels guilty that she isn't with Emma right now. But her daughter is with David at the moment, and David is always a firm rock in the midst of grief.

3. Besides, she thinks wryly, Emma's dealt with loss before and it didn't involve cursing an entire realm. So, qualms dealt with, Snow knocks on Regina's door, armed with tea, Neal, and determination to be there for her in a way she couldn't all those years ago. Even if that means taking the brunt of Regina's anger. 

4. There is no answer to the knock at first, and Snow begins to worry that Regina has shut herself in her vault. But then she hears a quiet shuffle, and Regina opens the door. Regina looks terrible: her hair is messy and her eyes are circled darkly enough to look bruised. But she does not look bitter, or insane, or even angry; she just looks tired. And numb. And deeply sad, but that, Snow thinks, she can handle. Tea and a small child ought to offer enough comfort for Regina to find her feet and

5. "Snow?" Regina rasps, and Snow's heart breaks, because Regina sounds so surprised, and she shouldn't be. "What are you doing here? And Neal? Shouldn't you be with...with Emma?" Her voice breaks ever so slightly on the last word, but Snow pretends not to notice. Instead, she surges forward and hugs her stepmother tightly, shifting Neal to the side so he doesn't get squashed. "Emma's with David. And you need somebody."

6. "Somebody to keep watch so I don't start rampaging around town ripping people's hearts out, you mean?" Regina demands, and Snow winces. "Well, yes, but the more important thing is that you are grieving, and by yourself, and I love you and hate to see you hurting. So I brought baby Neal, and some tea, and we are going to spend the day together." "Oh, we are, are we? And when did I agree to this?" Regina demands, and Snow relaxes fully—this she knows how to handle.

7. She gives Regina her most hopeful smile. "You haven't—yet. But look, Neal wants to get to know you!" And sure enough, Neal is reaching for Regina, burbling happily. Regina's face softens noticeably and she makes a move toward him, hesitating just before she picks him up. "May I?" "Of course," Snow smiles, and Regina takes him and cuddles him close. "You are always welcome here, little one," she coos, then glances at Snow before refocusing on the baby.

8. "And I suppose, if you insist, your shamelessly manipulative mother may enter also. Don't use your children to get on someone's good side," she lectures him, "it's not in good taste." Snow grins, not chastised in the slightest. "Neal, don't listen to your step-grandmother." "...And we are never calling me that again," Regina grouses, her voice still a shade of its normal irritated tone.

9. "Yes, that would probably be wise," Snow admits, and makes a move toward the kitchen. "You take Neal out to the living room, and I'll put the kettle on," she commands. "I need a break." Regina puts up no resistance, going to sit with Neal. "I suppose I'll have to bring out some of Henry's old toys again—" her voice suddenly breaks in earnest this time, and Snow remembers belatedly the afternoon she, Robin, and Regina had spent going through Henry's old things for Roland.

10. "Yes, that would probably be wise," Snow admits, and makes a move toward the kitchen. "You take Neal out to the living room, and I'll put the kettle on," she commands. "I need a break."Regina puts up no resistance, going to sit with Neal. "I suppose I'll have to bring out some of Henry's old toys again—" her voice suddenly breaks in earnest this time, and Snow remembers belatedly the afternoon she, Robin, and Regina had spent going through Henry's old things for Roland.

11. She clears her throat against a sudden lump and busies herself with making tea, knowing Regina will only talk when she's ready. The kettle boils, and she pours the cups and carries them out to Regina. "I know you miss Robin—""But I'll be able to find love again, is that it?" Regina suddenly snarls. "I can wait, and be good, and fate will give me a second chance? I already tried that, and it doesn't work, and you think I can just—just replace Robin like he was a used car?"

12. She starts crying again, and Snow is suddenly ashamed of the worries that had loomed large as she hovered in front of Regina's doorstep. Regina needs somebody. Neal begins to fuss, upset by the sudden tension, and Regina quickly wipes her tears and lowers her voice, cradling him closer. "I—I'm sorry. But I can't take a hope speech. Not now."

13. "Well, good thing I'm not here to give one then," Snow tells her, and puts a mug of tea on the coffee table. "I know you can never replace Robin. But I'm here for you, and Henry is, and David, and Emma, and all the Merry Men. You're not alone. And I really just came here for tea and company."Regina sniffles, looking down. "I miss Robin. I feel like he's not really gone, but I know he is. And I miss him. I even miss the messes he made, and Roland. I can't—"

14. "Robin used to say the same thing—" and Regina's face crumples again, and Snow stands up quickly and sits next to Regina, pulling her and Neal into a hug. She feels a rush of tenderness for this woman, this woman who has taken so much from her and given so much to her, and determined that she will help Regina find happiness again, if she has to drag her there kicking and screaming.

15. Regina leans into the hug, Neal still miraculously quiet in her arms, and Snow smiles. "Drink your tea," she says, and the silence that follows floats to the ground, loaded with broken promises and broken dreams and broken hopes. It is still feather-light as it lands.

OMG OTHER ASK BOX FIC ANON HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!  I IZ BROKEN.  AND DED.  AND STUFF!