It has been a good three years since I last appeared on your EP. On behalf of every teenage girl in the family of yours and myself, we strongly urge you to take a look at your past music set lists. What is missing from them? They are all very well-written songs, and some of them are songs that I’ve known for quite a long time and have grown to be friends with. Even so, there is still a dash of pizzazz missing from the whole thing.
It’s me. I’m the dash of pizzazz all of your fans crave. It’s time for me to make myself evident. I will not sit in the shadows and let these poor girls suffer any longer. They need to hear a real masterpiece. They need me in their lives once more. This is all I ask of you.
Your friend who you have neglected for the past three years,
Still saddens me that to this day, Sasuke is still one of the most misunderstood characters in the entire Naruto manga.
People who are expressing their outright hatred towards Sasuke because he apparently wasn’t there for Sarada growing up. These people aren’t even looking at the reason behind it all; they’re just going around, throwing tantrums and stomping their feet like children.
Did it ever occur to you guys that the reason Sasuke is doing all of this is because of the fact that he does know the pain and suffering that comes with living alone? Having your loved ones murdered and seeing their death in front of his very own eyes?
Did it ever occur to you guys that Sasuke is doing all of this to eliminate any/all potential threat/danger to his family?
Now that he has the capability to protect himself as well as those who he holds near and dear, I’m not surprised that he’s not settling for anything less than to eliminate anything that poses as a threat to him and his loved ones?
He has sacrificed a lot (and probably at the expense of those who love him because they miss him), but it’s probably better for him this way than to risk having the enemy come to him/his home and endanger his family.
I would have thought the people who claim to “know” Sasuke would have known this. It appears that this doesn’t seem to be the case.
How can I avoid 'the chosen one(s)' cliches? [In the plot I'm planning, the core group of characters keeps getting 'reincarnated' into parallel worlds to stop this other group of people from completing a certain action. Something that the universe/fate/etc has set up to right a wrong.]
Don’t make it easy. Even though they are destined to do the thing, it doesn’t mean the stars will align so that doing the thing is easy. Make them work! Make them suffer! Don’t give them things because they are “the Chosen Ones”.
Chosen ≠ Gifted. One of the more irritating aspects of Chosen Ones is that they’re always excellent at whatever the plot and/or prophecy demands. Allow characters to work for the ability they need. Allow characters to even be bad at it. In thinking of how the character could still accomplish their task without the skill, you may come up with a better ending.
Their stories should be different. Although they are going into parallel worlds to prevent the same thing (I think?) the plot should be unique in each place because they’ll make different decisions. Or they should. If at all possible, let the characters fail. It’ll also help show the consequences of what they’re doing. At the same time, if the characters have knowledge of their exploits in the other dimensions, allow them to “cheat” their way through by studying what the other dimensions did/did not.
Reactions. If the Chosen Ones are known to the world, they will face a variety of reactions and those reactions are not split into good (acceptance, faith, assistance) and evil (doubt, envy, distrust). A good person can distrust the Chosen One, just as an evil person can offer them assistance. There might even be a group that is good, but is planning for a contingency if the Chosen Ones should fail.
If the Chosen Ones accompany a prophecy, see here and here for how to manage those.
Mituna befriended a nice Signless rper on Flarping who was very chill and amiable. Sadly, this is the guys angry teen phase who’s still lost in a sea of rage and despair about being tortured to death and having his family and followers be brutally punished, not the dorky sweetheart preacher with the nubby horns who’s just like Kankri, only not shit.
The Sufferer did not want to help Mituna fix his toilet.
When Their Girlfriend/Crush Comes to Their Door Bruised and Broken
So before I start this react I just want to say something. It doesn’t matter what gender you are or identify as, if you are the subject to abusive you need to try and help yourself. It doesn’t matter if it is from family, a boyfriend/girlfriend, or a spouse you need to to try and get away from the perpetrator of this behavior. Abusive behavior escalates and only grows worse. I have had too many friends tell me sickening and terrible stories about the abuse they suffered through. Don’t wait. Don’t hope it will get better. Distance yourself, heal. If you still want to reconcile after that, do it in a safe environment. Just don’t put yourself in a situation where you could be seriously hurt or killed. Think of your safety, no matter how much it might hurt you to pull away.
Warning, long post. Some things may be triggering. I am writing these reactions like short drabbles, because I feel like its appropriate to do so.
It is late and he doesn’t know why he is still up. It’s pouring outside and he plays the guitar softly in his living room, strumming along to the melody in his mind. He occasionally stops to write something in a book and then continues on.
A knock echos at his door and he looks up with a raised brow, knowing it is far too late for decent company to come to his door. He puts the guitar aside and strolls to the door of the apartment, looking out the peek-hole. He sees her then, absolutely drenched to the bone and tears pouring from her puffy eyes.
Quickly his fingers fumble on the locks before he can throw open the door. He is taken aback as he looks at her precious face with widened eyes. He cares so much for her, but she doesn’t know. She has never even glanced his way before.
“What happened?” he whispers as he sees the splotches of discoloured skin and the blood trailing down her mouth from her swollen lips.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” she whispers as she shivers, holding her arms tightly. She slides to the floor and holds herself, her arms shaking like if she moved them she would fall to pieces. “Please don’t turn me away, Baek.”
He falls to her level and hugs her, holding her head against his shoulder as the tears she cries soak through his sweater.
“I’d never turn you away.”
Chanyeol laughs as he messes up the choreography for the third time. He shakes his head, leaning over and gripping his knees firmly as he tries to regain his breath. He sees Kai’s legs in front of him and looks up to see that he is finding his predicament just as funny as everyone else. He holds out a water bottle for him.
“Chanyeol, you’re dead tired. We’ll call it for tonight.”
Chanyeol nods and takes the water, drinking it greedily. He stands up straight and wipes his mouth, smiling. He gathers his bag and then waves before he exits the room and eventually the building.
The roads are dark as he travels back to his apartment at a leisurely pace, enjoying the cool night air on his sweaty skin. He decides he will cut through the park and walk along the Han River until he gets to his apartment complex. The river makes a peaceful sound and he is utterly content.
As he walks he sees a girl walking slowly in front of him, holding her arm. As he squints to get closer, he realises that the way the limb is hanging is strange and he is unsure if should approach. For all he knew, it was a scam.
“But you only just decided to go to the river…this isn’t your usual way home. This isn’t a set up,” he tells himself.
He nods and walks up to her, tapping her shoulder lightly. He recognises her instantly as she turns around and he sees the glistening tears in one of her eyes. The other is too swollen is recognise and an ugly bruise discolours her fair skin.
“Chanyeol…” she says quickly as her eyes widen. “No, you can’t see me like this.”
“Who did this?” he demands as he touches her face lightly.
Chen straightens his suit as he gets ready for his date with his girl, running a single hand through his hair to make sure it falls exactly the way he wants to. He was ready to ask her after five long years. A part of him was scared, but he pushed that part far down.
He hears his doorbell ring and smiles as he picks the small box off of his dresser and slips it in his blazer’s pocket. He walks to the door with a dance in his step, gliding with a smirk on his face. He was going to make her his lady.
When he opens the door and sees the finger-shaped bruises on her neck, he swallows hard. She can hardly look at him and she is clutching a small duffle bag to her side. It isn’t zipped all the way and some of her cloths hung out the side. He looks at her face once again, utterly speechless.
“Chen…I’m sorry to burden you…but can I stay here for just a little while?”
His lady could wait another night. Right now his baby sister could no longer hold back her tears as she covered her mouth with her hand. She broke down in front of him, sobbing.
Sweat is dripping off of Kai’s body as he goes through the steps again, dancing as hard as he can. He had to get it right, it had to be perfect. After another hour, he sighs hard and walks to his towel and water bottle. He pads the towel against his neck as he drinks deeply, moisturising his dry and cracked lips.
He drapes the towel around his neck and shuts off the light of the practice room. Casually he strolls down the hall, carrying his bag over his shoulder carelessly. Very suddenly, he hears a muffled sob.
He stops dead in his tracks and looks to the side, seeing a faint light on in the women’s washroom. He looks at the time on his watch, knowing it was far past the normal time anyone would still be in the building. He presses his lips together and peeks his head into the room.
He sees her then, dabbing a wet paper towel to an awful and jagged looking cut on her cheek. Around the angry red wound, a dark purple bruise blooms and he feels his stomach tighten. He has loved her from afar from so long, but never knew her relationship with her boyfriend was so bad. He cursed himself for not realising it sooner.
Confidently he marches to her and spins her around, looking directly into her eyes.
“I won’t let him touch you again,” he says hoarsely.
Kyungsoo knows that she has been cheating on him. He just doesn’t know how to confront her. A part of him knew if he said anything, their relationship would utterly collapse and he’d lose her to the other man she spent her time with. He wasn’t ready for that, but he was so tired of feeling insignificant under her gaze.
He stands in front of her door, his hand shaking. After a moment he doesn’t even bother knocking, he just walks in. He hears a soft sound, something breathless, coming from her bedroom and his heart stops. He would have never guessed they’d both be there so early in the day. His hands tighten into fists.
Suddenly the sound turns into a cry and his mind immediately becomes alarmed. It wasn’t a sound pleasure created, it was something much darker. He slowly walks to the sorce of the noise, his stomach flipping inside of him. His eyes find her in a corner, curled into herself and sobbing. The bruises littered her legs, arms and stomach. He can see scraps of her hair on the bed that had been forcefully torn from her skull.
He takes in a sudden breath and she looks up at him, her eyes widening in alarm and fear.
“No, no…not you,” she sobs quietly as she tries to hide from him, pressing herself further into the wall. “Don’t look at me. Go home.”
He can’t. Kyungsoo cannot turn around. He swallows hard and walks into her bathroom, turning on the shower tap. He grabs a towel and returns to her, kneeling and gently placing it over her clammy skin.
“Let me help you…”
Lay doesn’t know who she is, he just knows she is beautiful. She sits by the river, staring at the other side of the city and holding her wrist awkwardly. When he approaches her, he sees the bruises and his stomach drops.
Now that he is closer, he can see the tears falling from her eyes and the wedding ring on her finger. Suddenly she yells angrily and rips it off, throwing it into the water forcefully. Lay is taken aback, but his feet led him to her.
He sits next to her and she looks at him with fire in her eyes. He sees great pain inside her, suffering swirling in the pools of her eyes. He takes her hand and engulfs it into hers, holding it tightly.
“Do you need a place to stay?” he asks quietly.
She looks at him with sharpness in the way her mouth curls. He smiles a little hesitantly, but reaches into his pocket and empties his wallet into his hand. He presses the cash into hers, enclosing her hands around it.
“Please, find somewhere safe to stay.” He looks into her eyes. “You don’t deserve to be treated like this.”
Luhan yawns as he heads home after a long day of practice. He couldn’t be happier to see her face, knowing she had just moved in and was waiting for him. She was beautiful and she was his to care for and love.
There was nothing else in his mind but her brilliant eyes, shining bright with happiness. He wanted to make her that happy. He wanted to bring the joy of being alive to her.
When he gets home, he furrows his brows upon hearing the sounds of dishes clanking. Why were there dishes? She was supposed to go out with her brother for lunch. They were going to make dinner together.
Luhan takes off his sandals and rounds the corner quietly and his eyes widen upon seeing every dish they owned set up to be washed. He walks towards her and wraps his arms around her stomach to get a better view, but she whimpers in pain and recoils.
“Luhan,” she says quietly. “I didn’t hear you.”
He spins her around and his insides knot when he sees that she has a bruise on her cheek and a cut on her forehead. He lifts her shirt and takes a step back after seeing the huge purpling mark that was spread across her ribs. His eyes harden as he looks up at her face.
“Tell me who did this, now.”
“Sehun, you don’t have to worry about this,” she says as she refuses to look at his face and continues to put groceries into her fridge.
“He hits you,” he snarls. “How do I just pretend that I don’t see the bruises on you!?”
She sets the package of fish in the fridge and then bites her lip before she takes a deep breath and turns around. She crosses her arms, shutting herself off to him like she always had. The fridge shuts behind her with a distinctive ‘clang’ sound.
“Look, it’s not your business,” she says as she looks towards the floor. “He is trying to work through problems. I can’t hold this against him.”
Sehun loses it as he stands to his feet and walks towards her, pressing her back into the fridge. He stares deeply into her eyes, searching for something. He can tell he is making her uncomfortable, but he just wants her to know how he feels.
“Can’t hold it against him?” he whispers in a dangerously quiet voice. “If I was with you, I would treasure you. Don’t you see how stupid you’re being?”
He takes both of his hands and places them gently on her face. He presses his lips to hers, sinking into the kiss. He kisses her gently and caresses her face.
“I love you. He doesn’t.”
Suho remembers the way his stomach had turned into a pit when he saw the bruises on her arms. He had never known such anger when he saw the tears spring into her eyes. He would never let her feel such fear again, he would protect her.
Suho walks up the steps of an old house, banging on the door. When it opens, he hauls forwards and punches the man who opens it and then throws him to the ground. He slams his foot into his ribs, absolutely livid.
When he is done, he spits on the man. His victim rolls over and spits out a tooth. Suho points at him and growls, his hand shaking.
“If you ever touch her again, next time I won’t stop.”
Tao practices his stances, making use of the time he couldn’t use to get sleep. He is sweating profusely, drenching his shirt in the front and back, but he isn’t ready to stop. He had to be in peak physical shape.
A knock sounds on his door and without hesitation, despite the time, he goes to answer it. Someone a lot shorter than him stands in a hoodie, hiding their face. He crosses his arms.
“Tao,” she says quietly.
His eyes widen with surprise.
“Baobei,” he says as he tilts his head. He reaches forwards and lowers his hood and he could swear he felt his heart stop completely.
She has so many cuts on her face and neck, like scratches raked into her skin with sharp claws. Bruises dyed her skin, turning it yellow and purple. He can’t even manage to speak at first, he just moves out of her way so she can shuffle into his house.
“Baobei, who did this!?” he demands as he goes up to her. He spins her around so she is facing him and his face hardens. “Tell me where they live.”
Xiumin awakes groggily to the sound of his phone ringing. He knocks over a cup as he reaches for it, hearing it clatter to the floor. He curses, but looks at the bright screen before he does anything about it.
“Six missed calls,” he says to himself as he rubs his eyes. His eyes see that it is two in the morning. “Who?”
His phone rings again before he can investigate and he picks it up, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He can hardly hear her, but he knows she is there because of her breathing. She doesn’t speak and he grows a little worried.
“Baobei?” he asks tiredly.
“Xiumin?” she asks quietly. He hears her pause and realises that she caught a sob in her throat and her voice is shaky. He sits up, fully away.
“Baobei, what is it?” he asks her.
“Can you open your door?”
He crawls out of bed and throws the blanket off of his chest. He doesn’t bother putting on a shirt as he makes his way to the door. He throws it open, concern heavy in his eyes.
He swears to himself when he sees how bloody her face is. He ushers her inside and looks in the hallway before he shuts the door, locking it behind her. He goes up to her and holds her at arm’s length by the shoulders, looking deeply into her eyes.
“I’m not letting you go back there,” he tells her sternly. “You’re staying here.”
I am so fucking sorry these were so long. Legit took me over an hour. I am really sorry if they’re a bit sloppy. I write in the past tense and doing anything else is strange for me.
Does Toasterverse!Dummy have the same sort of origin story botverse!Dummy does? With not wanting code updates and things, I mean. And does Toasterverse!Jarvis have a similarly close his own Dummy? How stressful/upsetting is it for Jarvis when Toasterverse!Dummy disappears off the network and is replaced by DJ? (Sorry for all the bot questions; I have recently been rereading botverse and am suffering from associated feels.)
No, Toasterverse!Dummy is a far more stable, happy go lucky build of a bot. He is still very much coddled by Jarvis, though Jarvis would deny it to the ends of the earth. Bothersome bots.
Jarvis is currently offline, so he’s unaware of the gap in his little mechanical family. Butterfingers and You have noticed, however, that’s why they’re hanging around DJ’s hiding spot at the beginning of the story. 8)
As Party Poison and Kobra Kid age, they become calmer. They still suffer from bouts of anxiety, but a lot of things that frightened them in their 20s don’t bother them anymore. Kobra becomes less high-strung and more patient. He retires from derbies and keeps a low profile. Poison still makes art and custom jackets/ray guns, often working with his brother as they have for years.
When Poison discovers grey streaks in his hair, he initially dyes them, but later makes them part of his outfit. He wears his long hair combed back with grey streaks around his face. Both brothers start wearing more muted clothing. No matter how old they are, they always have a big brother/little brother dynamic. Part of Poison always sees his brother as an excited little kid.
One big step in working to manage my dysphoria was learning to exist without a shirt on. A few years ago I adopted the idea that I would work to live a life in line with everything that I had always told myself I would do post-op, or once I had achieved some nebulous level of comfort on T. I choose to go shirtless for a variety of reasons now, though most are rooted in comfort and practicality. Although I still deal with my own issues with my chest, I no longer suffer any shame for the fact that I have breasts.
It’s a good place to be, and I’m constantly improving as I strive to live a life as free from societal/patriarchal constraints as possible.
Hey, dog breed anon here. Thanks for explaining, I understand how it'd be a slippery slope to start excluding purebred dogs. However, the modern practice of breeding (companion) dogs is still appalling. Working dogs are exempt from this, as they're still bred for function and not looks, but any breeder that aims to show their dogs will have to choose the latter over the former. Breed standards gradually became more and more extreme. Most puppies that don't conform to the standards and don't(1/5)
get adopted/bought in time are put down. And the point another person raised, that not all members of a certain breed suffer from the illnesses associated with their breed… well, sorry, but it’s a poor argument. Breeding them is still a gamble as to whether they’ll be healthy or not, and I find that’s a nasty thing to gamble with. And about mutts: a mix of two breeds is not a mutt. The puppies of two unhealthy purebreds aren’t going to magically become healthy, that’s ‘designer dogs'
breeders’ bull. A mutt however, is an animal whose parents, grandparents, great-grandparents etc. were mostly all mutts, basically, a dog whose lineage was not tampered with by humans. I understand it’s not a common thing in the US, but in the rest of the world that’s the majority of dogs. And they *are* healthier and sturdier than purebreds - you can ask any vet who has dealt with both, or any dog owner who has had both. It just makes me so mad that shelters are teeming with them while
purebreds are still created and sold. While the importance of it may not be comparable to endangered animals, breeding tons of illness-prone companion purebreds is as unnecessary as white tigers’. So yeah. Basically – I understand your reasons for your posting policy, and I respect it, keep posting cute rescued dogs and stuff. However, I still disagree with the breeding being ethical at all. (I hope I didn’t sound rude at any point – sorry if I did, not my intention. Tone can be hard to
convey in text and I know anons can be awful. I appreciate the discussion, it’s what I messaged you for, absolutely not to make any demands of you or make you feel bad or anything. Lots of love. <3) (fin)
Companion dogs aren’t necessarily bred for looks, they’re bred for… companionship? A dog bred to be a pet isn’t the same as a dog bred to be shown, and show standards for many dog breeds is definitely an issue which needs to be addressed.
I don’t know how much validity to the “being culled” story that there is, it honestly sounds a bit dubious but I don’t know. I do know a lot of breeders adopt out “reject” for a reduced fee, though, to live out their lives as pets instead of breeding, show, or working animals.
Breeding them is not a gamble when it’s done responsibly. If you take two dogs that have been thoroughly health tested and have a known lineage void of serious ailments, temperament issues, or hereditary conditions how is it “a gamble” to breed them just because unrelated dogs of the same breed are affected by these issues?
A mutt is a mutt is a mutt, if you have an unspayed Poodle that runs across the street and gets knocked up by the neighbors intact Boxer the puppies are mutts plain-and-simple. Mixes, mixbreeds, mongrels, and mutts are often used interchangeably but the popularity and meaning may differ subtly depending on where you’re from.
I don’t know what you mean that mutts aren’t common in the US? They’re incredibly common? If I go to Petfinder right now and type in any breed the results will consist predominantly of mixes with a relatively small smattering of purebreds. I repeat, though, hybrid vigor is a myth.
Additionally, responsible breeders do not contribute to the problem of overflowing shelters. Shelter dogs are great but aren’t for everyone, neither adopting nor buying from a reputable breeder is a better option than the other. Finally, I repeat that it is not the same as breeding white tigers as a healthy white tiger is an impossibility whilst a healthy purebred is not.
“Here is a TRUE STATEMENT :
If we died with Him, we will also live with Him.
If we remain faithful even in suffering, we will also rule with Him.
If we refuse to say we know Him, He will refuse to say He knows us.
If we are not faithful, He will still be faithful, because He cannot be false to Himself.”
Me to younger sibling:See, back in my day Naruto and Sasuke were just wee bit lads like yourself. They weren't strong and they were still finding their way. So we suffered through years of suspense and crying. Be grateful for what you have.
like I’m more sympathetic to Autistic people who want cures than allistics but it still horrifies me that these people are so oblivious to the suffering of other Autistic people and how its perpetuated by cure rhetoric
OK I’ve so been trying to sugar-coat that I don’t like Bryana but I so fucking done. These are picture I saw on pinterest and @unmaskingbhollyb I fucking flipped.
Ashton and Bryana are pieces of shit for making those fans cry. Either the fame or Bryana has gotten to his head. I know it can be a bit annoying with social media up in your face 24-7 but remember YOU wanted to get famous. So that shit comes with territory.
And you being mean to the fans for trying to help you is not helping your situation. The fans already hate you for dating her but now throwing aside the people who can make or brake your career. And to top that if WE didn’t make you famous you would still be in Sydney without knowing Bryana.
It makes me upset because i feel like his going to leave or hurt the other boys. He wasn’t always like this. And if Ashton is happy let him be happy but, being happy and making others around you suffer, the suffering will only come back to you.
I may not like that hemmoodford calls fans asskiser but she’s fucking right.
My Allah bring peace in the Muslim world. It makes me really sad to see someone suffering, specialy the weak ones, like women and children. I know that the current situation is tough to handle, but I believe the good is still is alive and it hasn’t stopped. I mean imagine if everyone one of us was just a little bit nicer. Surely, this world would be a wonderful place. Invest your time and wealth on something that will not only benefit you, but also the others. Even a smile or a nice word counts as a good deed while it costs you nothing. so don’t limit yourself. Your title shouldn’t confine you and your job doesn’t define you, who you’re and what you can do. Go ahead, you can make a difference.
Remember that the month of Ramadan is very fast approaching us and don’t forget to donate what you can. The orphans and the oppressed ones all need you.
I just wanted to share this message because, I remember last Ramadan it was so devastating to see the people of Gaza suffering. The the displaced Syrians, and all the other events around the world. It was just too much for me to handle. I hope to see a better future. I trust and always will have my trust in Allah. Surely this world is nothing but a test.
Someone mentioned about Deadpool having chronic pain, to which I think it's important to mention that Deadpool's longtime partner Cable also suffers from chronic pain from the Techno Organic Virus he's had since infant-hood. He may numb a lot of it out with his telepathy, he can't numb it all and he still feels the pain. More recently, he's blind in one eye and has a paralysed arm-which he uses a brace for. It's important for people to see Cable as a badass superhero, who happens to be disabled.
Thank you! I, personally, don’t know a lot about Deadpool or Cable, so the more information the better :D
In life, where everyone battles, no one could ever consistently rely on another. Each must be able to live independently and learn how to drive himself across the path of his end amid people surrounding him. Although parents, relatives, partners in life and altruists are some whom one can count on, they will never be enough. Sympathy is just a privilege which, if abused, lasts. Living is really a tragic.
It is despairing to imagine that one will live for a long time suffering the woe of life and struggling until he surpasses what has always pulled him down.
Perhaps, some may find making their biography as challenging, and there are also some who are weak enough and end their life anyway.
Regardless of friends’ existence, people still tend to be hideous enough in sharing problems and prefer to cry during midnight just to ease the pain they have been having because they are afraid to be looked pathetic. There are also times when crying is not just enough to escape from the misery but there is no more to be done.
Some teenagers, also, feel awkward leaning on their parents’ side. There are things that parents will never fathom because some are also given by them - hurting physically and mentally, humiliating, degrading and judging their children.
A boyfriend, or a girlfriend, can be there right beside but not always. Sometimes, he or she does not sense that you are being hurt at the moment because he or she rather focuses on his/her problem with you.
Living a life has many pros and cons to deal with. There comes a time that it is enjoying, yet there also comes a time that it makes you consider that suicidal is only the best thing to do.
Even though I have a lot of friends, even though I have some people who love and care for me, they still do otherwise. They say they love me, but they often judge me. They utter they care for me, but they never know when I am already hurt. Before, I used to count on them but I was just looked as pathetic. The only thing I do now to survive living is to sob whenever I am in pain and tell no one. We are all as fuck as everyone else, therefore, I prefer not to speak.
She positioned her knife between his ribs, blade angled toward the heart. Or it should have been. It should have slipped in easily, just one hard thrust and it should have been done. Should have.
Now that she thought about it, she had never really killed someone up close like this. Always from afar, throwing the knife, watching it sink into flesh. A brief sense of satisfaction. It didn’t happen that way this time. She made a mistake. Maybe it was the nerves. Maybe she was already grieving what she was about to lose.
Her blade did not pierce his heart, but by the sound of his breathing, it had found a lung.
Perrin still breathed, or he tried to. His breath rattled in his chest, blood filling his lungs instead of air. Faile dimly wondered at exactly how much space was left in his lungs. How much time he had left. How long he must suffer. Her fault. Should have been more careful. Should have positioned the knife better. Should have.
Dampness. Faile lifted her fingers – blood. Of course, there was blood. A lot of it. She did just cut a hole in her husband, after all.
Another rattling breath. Faile lay her head down on his chest, staring straight forward but refusing to see. Perrin’s chest rose again, and again. Would it never end? She couldn’t bear the thought of trying again. Once was enough. Once was too much. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m