#how underpaid ARE these modelers holy fuck.

[nyaskitten]

Honestly starting to doubt we'll see the collars that much in the show given how little effort went into making them. They're SUPREMELY bland over-simplifications in-show compared to in the sets, barely any good fur detailing whatsoever. ALSO, the back is just mirrored from the front, that's not how the fuck collars work dude. I'm NEVER drawing them like that I don't care FUCK canon compliance!!!

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

First of all, congrats on 3000 followers! You're one of the best writers I have ever seen, the way you capture the characters personalities and quirks so well it's honestly astonishing. You deserve all the recognition in the world! Now, I have been waiting for your requests to be open for a while now bc I could not stop thinking about nathan + texting the wrong number. I don't think this in the prompt lists you shared, so feel free to just ignore. Either way, thank you so much for all the stories you give us!

Part of Youvebeenlivingfictional's 3K Follower Celebration

Notes: Thank you so much anon omg 🥺🥺🥺

Texts like this are from Nathan Texts like this are from you. A new line indicates a new text.

Warnings: Drunkenness, cursing, sexual innuendo, implied sex, implied phone sex

hey. hey hey hey hey I sent you the scummatics.

???

the

fucking the design things. Been drinking can’t spell right nnw

You also can’t text the right number, apparently.

Fuck you this is the right numver

Wow, drunk AND polite.

fuck you and quit fucking around i need that shit in productin yestrday

Well, looks like you’re not going to get it until tomorrow, along with a raging hangover

I pay ur goddamn celery, Randall

Randall must be one lucky man. I’m guessing he’s also underpaid if his compensation is celery.

randall i’m fucking over this just get your shit done do ur fuckgnin job

[Today Incoming Video Call]

[3 minutes long]

……ur much hotter than randall.

Drink some water and go to bed, dude.

--

Hi.

Still not Randall.

No, I know.

And you’re typing with the correct words, so I’m guessing you’re more sober than you were last night?

Correct.

I just wanted to apologize for that. I entered my assistant’s number wrong on my phone.

Don’t worry about it.

Right.

I need to ask you something.

Is it how to spell ‘schematics’?

…No.

Can I call you? Are you busy?

Sure, call.

--

Seeing Nathan Bateman’s face on the other end of your phone last night had been shocking. The last time you saw him—Well. You'd rather not think about that. You're not sure if the man straight-up didn't recognize or remember you, or if he was just too drunk for it to register last night. You’re not sure which would be better. But the fact that he’s contacting you again, and wants to call? It's even more stunning. When his number flashes across your screen under the name ‘That Drunk Guy’, you hesitate. You did tell him to call, but now you’re regretting it. You should’ve waited, asked what he wanted. But you take in a deep breath, and stab the green button, and lift the phone to your ear. “Yeah?” You ask.

“Why aren’t you using a Blue Book phone?”

“Is this seriously why you fucking called me?”

“I mean, no, I’m just curious.” You roll your eyes, eyeing your screen.

“You’re calling my work phone. They don't exactly let you choose what make and model you get—especially when you’re working for the company that makes them.”

“You work for fucking Apple?”

You can’t tell if he’s disgusted or amused. Nonetheless, you answer: “Uh huh.”

“Huh.”

“Right. So if that’s all—”

“It isn’t.”

“Okay?”

“I just uh…Yeah, I read those texts over and holy shit, I was...Kind of an asshole.”

“Yeah.”

“And I don’t need that getting to the press.” You snort. “The press already thinks you’re an asshole, Bateman.”

“Right. Nonetheless—”

“I won’t say shit about shit. Just send whatever fucking NDA you’re going to try and pitch me, I’ll get it back to you by the end of the day.”

“You can’t send it back in, like, five minutes?”

“I need my lawyer to go over it, make sure you’re not going to put my tits in a vice. I don’t sign anything without my lawyer looking at it.”

“Okay. I respect that.”

“No you don’t. You just want me to sign it and get it over with. Send it.” You pull your phone away from your ear without another word, hanging up. Your heart is pounding in your throat; your hand is shaking minutely. Nathan fucking Bateman. You’d been stunned last night, but if anyone knew—if anyone heard, this could get you in some hot water. Tech is a small world, and there’s nothing in your contract with Apple that prohibits speaking to any other companies, but Blue Book is Apple’s biggest competitor. You don’t want to rock the boat.

--

NDA is signed and sent.

You’re a merciful angel.

You can stop trying to butter me up, I sent the damn document already.

There’s no butter here.

Okay.

I mean, literally, none. My trainer has me abstaining from dairy.

You poor thing.

I’ll live. I miss cheese more than butter.

I bet.

You don’t wanna talk to me, do you.

I just have no idea why you’re still talking to me.

You know, when you vid called me, you looked familiar, but I couldn’t place you.

So I looked up your number.

Really putting that search engine to good use.

Did we fuck?

Last night? How drunk were you?

AI Tech summit, Geneva, like, two years ago.

…Yeah.

I FUCKING KNEW IT

Okay. Good talk.

For the record, I would never put your tits in a vice. From what I remember, you’re not into that kinda thing.

Friendly reminder that that NDA was only inclusive of the texts that you sent me last night.

…Right.

You had no clause for future or further communications.

Right right right.

Holding my own NDA over my head. That’s hot

Wow, you’re still going with this.

Call me again

For what?

call me

…Are you seriously jerking it over a power trip?

please call me

[Today Incoming Video Call]

[28 minutes long]

--

hey

Yep, just send the new NDA over.

[Attachment received]

??????

…This is a fucking plane ticket.

We had fun in Geneva, and I think we both had fun last night.

You think? You didn’t bother to ask before buying me a fucking ticket?

Come see me.

For a bang trip?

What else?

...Send the NDA that’ll go with the trip. I’m not getting out there and signing it. Send it now.

[Attachment received]

So fucking bossy.

It gets you hard.

It really does.

So you’re coming?

NDA pending.

Okay. --

You glance over at Nathan as he rolls off of you, brow furrowing. He’s sated, sweating, and…Giggling. “What?” You ask, stomach flooding with nerves and butterflies. Was the sex that bad? But Nathan shakes his head, reaching down and curling an arm around your middle, a dopey smile tipping up his lips as he says, “Remind me to send Randall a fucking fruit basket.”

[fc5holidayexchange]

FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 FIC

----------------

Title: Gävlebocken

Deputy Mattie Covington/Sharky Boshaw- Mattie and Sharky reunite after a failed trip to burn the Gavle Goat

@ma-sulevin

Hi Kate! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, wherever you are and however you're celebrating! Hope the festive season is full of joy and magic! I had a fabulous time writing Mattie and Sharky together and I hope you enjoy reading it! xxxx

----------

“All I’m saying, shorty, is never leave a man behind. Marilyn Manson and Carly Rae Jepson wanted to go torch some Gävlebocken butt too, y’know? And who was I to deny them their Bejeebus given right as Incendiary-Americans?”

Mattie cuddled the red-cheeked pyromaniac closer into her chest as she eased his sorrows on the couch. He hadn’t stopped blushing since she’d collected him from Missoula International Airport, where he’d been marched from the building between the firm grip of two unforgiving, no doubt underpaid TSA officers, cuffed at the wrist and short two of his beloved (and musically christened) flamethrowers.

“... you know, they probably sell flamethrowers in Sweden. You could have got one when you got there. Or matches. Shit, there’s plenty of sticks you could have rubbed together too.” She mused, trying to make light of the situation.

Sharky Boshaw was having none of it.

“Nuh-uh, no-can-do. Had to be them, babe.”

“Only the best for the holy grail of goat effigies, I guess?”

He nodded and crushed his face into her.

She couldn’t tell if the residual ruby tinge on his face was from the trauma of his ordeal (though he was hardly a stranger to arrest), from the abundance of alcohol still in his system, or from where the ravenous teeth of a cold winter beast had nibbled at him. December had fallen, and the snow was up to their knees. The smell of evergreen firs and smoky chimneys and roasting meat and fresh gingerbread permeated across the county. Even the sickly scent of Bliss had subsided, the cold-sensitive Georgia peaches known locally as the Seeds having retreated indoors for the season.

Christmas was coming.

Boshaw Manor’s festive decorations were tacky and yet, made with love. The Christmas tree was a little scorched on the edges, and adorned with homemade ornaments that were just beer tops looped onto string. They twinkled rainbow in the glow from the string lights, and tinkled as they clinked against each other. Paper chains and worn tinsel in emerald and silver shades hung from every available surface, and though he had no fireplace, he’d dragged a metal bin into the centre of the living room so they could roast chestnuts and make smores through the long winter nights.

However, Sharky’s favourite holiday accessory was a slightly dusty Santa figurine. He had, at some point, made the toymaker his own little flamethrower from aluminium foil, and the rotund, bushy bearded fellow still clung to it with his moth-eaten mittens, ready to chargrill Rudolph. But truly the highlight of Santa’s unusual skillset, the crown jewel in his sleigh full of secret talents, was the voice recording feature.

From the depths of Santa’s cookie filled belly, Sharky’s voice echoed:

“Burn baby burn… CHRISTMAS INFERNO”

And now, the jolly figure danced laboriously by the door, Boomer resting beside him, snoring along to the increasingly demonic rasp (Mattie made a mental note to replace the batteries).

Of course, this year, Mattie had put her own little touches on the place.

When he’d first taken her in, Earl had given her a little archangel statue, with beautiful, expansive wings, and a majestic flaming blade in it’s right hand, and her name engraved upon it. ‘Matilda means mighty in battle’ he’d explained, pulling her into a hug to assure her of just how strong she was. And last year, Nancy had knitted her a little yellow star, gold flecked through it, to sit atop the tree, and now it sat pride of place, shimmering like the true holy light.

It was slightly overwhelming, to see her things, however few, amongst Sharky’s.

To know that now, she and Sharky could make Christmas memories together.

That was the best gift of all.

And normally, snuggled together on a winter’s night like this, she’d be teasing him, slipping her chilled hands down the back of his shirt, or tickling his neck which made him squirm and giggle the most, or even sticking an icy naked foot into his face when he wasn’t paying attention. Or she’d be letting her hands wander into his pants, and they’d be making love and basking in each other’s glow until the sun came up.

But the sheer misery welling in his eyes, Christmas dreams obliterated and Hall of Flame pedestals empty, like a baby bird beak without a worm to sate it’s hunger, sent a pang of guilt ricocheting through every inch of her. One that made her stomach squirm and her lip quiver. He was her family, and though her dad back in Challis hadn’t exactly been the model of perfect, or even the model of good, she knew with all the certainty in her heart that families weren’t supposed to look so despairing at Christmas.

“What were you thinking, Shark?”

“I, uh… I wanted to surprise you.”

“And you thought running off to Europe to go burn down a giant goat was the best way to do that? I’d have taken socks instead, you know. Or a John Seed's head on a spike.”

She moved to hold his hand, fingers intertwining comfortingly, and he sniffed loudly in appreciation. Mattie felt so complete when her hand was nestled in his- who needed gloves to when you had a hand to hold?

"Just because Hurk nearly got Wicker-manned out in Europe, doesn't mean you have to."

He mumbled in reply, sheepishly resigned to his deeper urges- "I'm a Khaleesi. I go where the flame takes me."

She chuckled softly and teased:

“I know, babe. I know. Who do you think is the one who prints the posters? The whole station is more like a groupie's bedroom."

Mattie cursed the day she’d so catastrophically put her foot in it. A late night drinking and feasting up in the Whitetails, near Fort Drubman, out under the stars and the bleak winter moonlight. A slew of cultist corpses were ragdolled along the path behind them, definitely not having a Merry Christmas, and a skinned Judge or two had fallen prey to Jess’s hungry trapper knife. The pelts would make a fine coat for next year’s snowfall and the burgundy branding of Jacob’s chosen mutts was simply an added trophy for Mattie’s slightly feral friend.

There they were. Mattie, Sharky, Hurk, Jess, and Staci (who'd called in sick from his night shift), with Boomer and Cheeseburger at their heels.

Munching on fish from the iced over rivers.

Getting drunk out of their minds and trying to forget all the shit that the past months had wrought.

The topic of conversation had turned to (what else) fire. They’d just proudly set alight to the old lumber mill, and watched the Peggies scatter like roaches from the scene. Merry on Whistling Beaver beer, Mattie had hiccoughed and giggled after her umpteenth bottle, snuggled under Sharky's arm, and announced loudly:

“Did you guys know there’s a huge ass wicker goat in Sweden? They put it up for Christmas every year and it keeps getting toasted.”

Well, it’s not like she’d expected him to take off a week later towards the airport… after he’d downed probably somewhere near a keg's worth of homemade eggnog… all rum, barely an egg or a nog in sight.

But Charlemagne Victor Boshaw’s eyes had illuminated with possibility, and so had the eyes of the airport security officers at the sizable lethal and flammable weapons he’d packed into his luggage. Having the fuzz for a girlfriend, who could come flaunting an arrest warrant and claim jurisdiction over the prisoner was an absolute saving grace, it turned out. The TSA had handed him over with very little resistance.

And now, here they were, back home in the depths of the county, almost definitely up a couple of places on the ‘no fly’ terror watchlist.

Sharky sat up suddenly and rubbed at his slightly runny nose, a sudden determination taking root in his chest. Spring coming early as a flower bloomed there, petals of fury and vengeance and abject loyalty to his cause.

"We gotta get Carly and Marilyn back. We gotta Ocean’s Eight, Sandra Bullock the airport, po-po. You and me, Hurk, sure we can get Nick and Kim on the crew too, what are we up to, five, Boshaw’s five, Sharky’s five-?“

Mattie nuzzled her face into the top of his head. She was a hell of a lot shorter than him, but he’d sunk into the couch so deeply that she could now smell the scent of his Old Spice shampoo and see the bald patch where he'd thought wearing a crown made of sparklers at Thanksgiving fireworks was a good idea.

“Yeah, I’m sure a woman heavily into her third trimester is gonna really be up for a heist-“

“Kim? Fuck yeah, she can kick butt with a bump, her centre of gravity’s probably on kung fu master levels here. Ooooh, maybe the baby’ll come early and kick some airport ass too.”

“I think it’ll be more like she’ll kick your butt for not inviting me along to go torch the goat."

It was crazy, knowing that next Christmas, there would be a Baby Rye for Santa to visit. And that maybe, in the Christmases to come, there'd be a brood of Baby Boshaws too, ready to tear the tree down and hurl food at each other, giddy in their festive hysteria. She thought about sharing such a fanciful idea with him, and went to murmur a few sweet suggestions in his ruddy ear. Maybe they could make some new dreams tonight...

Sharky wasn’t listening though.

“Maybe we go Die Hard 2 instead… be in keeping with the ol’ time of year?”

“All the guys who break into the airport die in that movie, Shark.”

She sighed and stroked his cheek.

"I think, maybe, as much as it sucks, we just have to let this one go."

He went to open his mouth to protest or beg or maybe come out with another heist movie to take inspiration from, but the words seemed to fizzle away on the end of his tongue. He knew it was futile. She was right. His visions of making the headlines in every Swedish tabloid evaporated, his name destined not to be heralded by enthusiasts of the Gävlebocken legacy. His shoulders sagged and he seemed to want to disappear into his worn green sweatshirt, like a turtle burrowing back into its shell.

"Hey, y'know, who wants to go smoke the goat anyway, much better things to burn here. Seeds and shit."

He settled into moody, reflective, uncharacteristic silence and Mattie knew not to push the subject any further. And while searching her thoughts for a way to soothe his wounds and bring the hope and joy of the festive season back into his heart, she casually leaned over to the table and picked up his abandoned plane ticket, also slightly singed like everything else the man owned (what had happened this time, Mattie couldn’t even begin to guess). 

Her stomach dropped.

The rollercoaster was taking an unexpected plunge deeper into irony.

There it was, printed neatly under DESTINATION.

A final foil for the Sharknado that had sought to wreak havoc across the fjords of Scandinavia.

“Shark, babe…”

“Yeah?”

“The big ass goat is in Sweden, right? You know, next to Norway?”

“Home of the dancing queen an' the smorgasbord. Oooh, and the chef.” He proceeded to spit out a garbled string of vowels in poor imitation of the Swedish language.

Mattie sighed and for a moment, debated whether to just keep her mouth shut. To let his Christmas dreams, however shattered, maintain some form of dignity. But laughter pulled at the corners of her mouth, from the singsong Muppetry in her ear and the ridiculous error before her eyes and she just knew it would make him laugh too;

“... Shark, this ticket is for Switzerland.”

He gave her a little confused frown and she wrapped her arms around his neck, to press her forehead, and then her lips softly to his.

“God, I love you so much.”

He returned her kiss, sharing her warmth and the sweet taste of hot cocoa and a sprig of mint and melted marshmallow, running his hands through her wind-swept hair. They lost themselves in each other, forgetting the snow falling fast outside, and the bodies across the county buried deep amongst the icy grass, and the slowly fading tire tracks from their long journey home.

And wrapped in the comforting embrace of her best friend, Mattie’s imagination shone. 

A flame taking to the tinder, spreading until it burned so strongly, it could never be extinguished.

---------- 

"My extremities are getting real cold, chica, an' I'm too young to lose my junk t’ frostbite."

"Don't worry, you'll be warm soon enough."

"Heh heh, sounds like a party."

Mattie had led Sharky through the dark forestry, the trees naked and sparse like a threadbare patchwork blanket. They'd walked for some time, boots snapping the carpet of fallen branches and crunching in the deep snow and squeaking over patches of icy oil spills across the roads, until they'd reached a pasture south of the Henbane.

And now, in the early hours of the morning, he stood blindfolded, Mattie's hands protectively on his shoulders (although she'd been tempted to mischievously let him wander into a patch of shrubbery or two, but decided she didn't want to be pulling thorns and thistles out of his ass all night).

"Are we there yet?"

"Almost."

A few more steps, up a slight incline, the frozen grass snapping underfoot. 

“OK, you can look now.”

Sharky tore off the blindfold in childlike impatience and his eyes widened at the sight he beheld.

Before them, silhouetted by the amber light from surrounding torches and the staring full moon, stood a large wicker goat.

A Gävlebocken… well, a Hopebocken.

A warm earthy brown, as though the trees hadn’t perished weeks before, with bark flaking from it to make the fur seem shaggy, thick, truly like a majestic beast from the hills of Scandinavia, with fleece enough to shroud a Viking king. Horns magnificent upon its head, red and gold Christmas ribbons adorning them like Roman wreaths. His nose was round and his face was long and he stood watch upon the hill, noble, a guardian, a protector.

And at his feet were gathered the artists of this crudely fashioned idol. Nick and Kim, Hurk and Adelaide and Xander, Dutch and Jess, Jerome and Mary May, Virgil and Wade and Eli and Tammy and Merle… it seemed the whole county, faces beaming and hands willing, had stepped forward to play their part in Sharky's Christmas miracle.

Mattie watched Sharky take a stunned step forward.

"I wanted to surprise you." She whispered into his ear, taking his hand and giving it a little squeeze.

And there was that smile she loved so much. His eyes crinkled in the corners and a laugh catapulted itself from deep in his throat into the night air. It rose like a ball of light, and exploded into a thousand stars to light the county and every county beyond it.

"I… I…" He stammered, pupils dilated, entranced, and he turned back to face the love of his life, choking on the wonderment and the realisation of just what she had done for him. “I can…?”

“You bet.”

“And I ain’t gonna get arrested?”

“Like that’s bothered you before?” She grinned and watched as he jumped and whooped, punching the air. Overwhelmed with adrenaline. Crying her name to the heavens, unabashedly proclaiming how much he loved her and all who had come to give him this gift.

“Shark… Shark?”

His head spunt to gaze at her.

An almost breathless gasp escaped him.

And the look on his face made Mattie want to throw herself upon him and never let go.

In her outstretched arms, lay a new flamethrower, blue and purple disco graffiti emblazoned on the side, and a big red bow ornately tied along the neck. She carefully placed it in his hands, and he weighed it, mesmerized, feeling the perfect balance of the full canister of fuel, and the soon-to-be warmed steel. Tears bloomed in the corners of his as he grasped it. As he readied himself for the greatest bonfire of his life.

“Merry Christmas, babe.”

She placed a careful kiss on his lips.

“Now… go toast that goat.”

[itsl0cked]

so i started working in a gift shop, right? and after i got the basic spiel of how things worked, i started looking through all the documents under the register, through the shelves in the gift shop, asked about how to blow up balloons, flipped through the file cabinet, tried all the keys, etc etc until i stopped to think "hey, there's no need to investigate everything." and then i was like HOLY SHIT IM NANCY DREW I HAVE BEEN TRAINED TO BE NOSY AS FUCK and honestly? what a role model for me she taught me to be inquisitive and take in as much detail as i can and be methodical, and im so glad baby me got that and underpaid teenage me can utilise that.

[carolightpenvenys]

doctors chapter 4- a penvenys AU

i am hashtagging all chapters of doctors #doctorscarolightpenvenys so you can find them easy

try and survive this chapter i dare u pls leave feedback -anna

Ross Poldark 7:01

Thank you for everything you did for Demelza yesterday, she really needed it :)

Dwight Enys 7:20

Sorry I just woke up! No problem at all any friend would :)

Ross Poldark 7:21

Haha no worries- I wish I could have been there :(

Dwight Enys 7:23

You were on duty, there was little you could've done

Dwight Enys 7:24

Don't worry

Ross Poldark 7:26

Anyway much appreciated. Demelza is coming to mine for dinner so I will tell her I said thanks

Dwight Enys 7:29

Enjoy your date

Ross Poldark 7:29

?

Dwight Enys 7:30

Sorry, dinner…

Ross Poldark 7:31

That's more like it

Dwight had just enjoyed the absolute nap of his life after the shocking revelation of Caroline Penvenen’s return from the dead. There was still very little he knew of her but as he scrolled through Facebook, he saw she'd commented on Demelza’s photo.

Caroline Penvenen

♥

He sneakily clicked on her profile, telling himself it was an accident. Her privacy settings weren't all that high but her Facebook was absolutely empty like it had been wiped, despite the fact she had over 1000 friends.

Hm, seems odd.

He went and clicked on her profile picture which seemed like a model type shot and saw it had 324 likes but the comments section was blocked.

He quickly clicked back onto home before locking his phone and mentally scorning himself for his actions.

Demelza Carne changed DWIGHT ON THE PULL to THE HOLY TRINITY

Ross Poldark 9:30

I always feel it’s really best not to ask when she does this

Demelza Carne 9:31

It’s cool…

Dwight Enys 9:35

Use of ellipses? Demelza are you ok?

Demelza Carne 9:36

Yeah fine just fine

Demelza Carne 9:37

Dwight I need you to come over tomorrow after work what time do you get off?

Dwight Enys 9:38

Wow do you do this to all the guys? And 4pm :(

Demelza Carne 9:40

Haha. Ok meet at mine at 5pm.

Dwight knew that something was wrong and completely ignored his heart freezing before going back to sleep.

Dwight was in his office finally getting some lunch at 2pm. By lunch, I mean an apple and a Kinder Bueno.

Typing in the latest medical notes into a family file was mind-numbingly boring. So it was almost a relief when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.” He said almost enthusiastically.

When he spun his chair around his eyes rolled so far into his head, he went a little blind. “Sister Keren, how did I earn the pleasure of your company?” He wanted to say Oh wait, there is none, but he remembered he was the nice guy, as always.

“Oh, believe me, I wish I came in different circumstances.” She winked and Dwight’s eyes widened. How on earth did she get promoted to sister? No one will ever know. “But it’s about Caroline Penvenen.”

“I told you Keren,” He shrugged. “I’m sorry, I’m not her doctor.” He was turning back to his computer.

She sighed. “She asked for you.”

Dwight turned back around with a confused expression. “Why though?”

“Fuck knows Dwight. She’s made Sister Verity cry three times today.”

He went from confused to deeply disturbed at this information. “Fucking hell. What monster would make Verity cry?” It just didn’t make sense. Verity was the single nicest person at that hospital and took so much shit from patients. Dwight went to her wedding the previous year. It was beautiful.

“Right. I’m going.” He pulled on his white coat. “But I’m off at 4 sharp, ok?”

“Whatever.” Keren winked. “I’m off at 7 if you’d like to-”

“No.”

It was ten past 4 and Dwight had finally made it to Caroline Penvenen. It seemed everywhere he went he was harassed with more tasks from overworked, underpaid doctors and nurses.

He peeled back the curtain of bed number sixty four and looked straight at Caroline. He wasn’t afraid. She looked back challengingly, creating an odd feeling inside of him. “So I heard you’ve made grown women cry this morning.”

“And men.” She smiled softly. “All of the men.” He didn’t understand why he’d heard reports that she screamed every time someone tried to touch her yet she was here, jesting with him about… well very little.

“Ah you see,” He smiled back… good, friendly rapport. “I find it more impressive that you made the women of this hospital cry. They’re tougher than all of us men put together.”

“And yet… You’re here.” She was fully teasing now and he could see little dimples appearing on her cheeks.

“At your slightly odd request.” He reassured her with a mock sincerity but she could see his eyes were laughing.

What was this? Dwight didn’t feel like he had control of the moment so he butted in on himself. “So I actually need to check your vitals.”

“Go on then.” She spread herself on the bed like a starfish before wincing in pain. “I sometimes forget about the ribs. And my leg. And everything else that’s hurting.”

“Just to be clear.” Dwight popped his bag on the floor next to her bed before sitting at her bedside. “Nobody hurt you when they tried to check you over earlier, right?” He found it highly unlikely that this was the case but it was always right to ask.

“Only my soul.” She smiled but no teeth were on show. It was a joke… right?

“My god! I’m kidding.”

Ah, it was.

“Ok so, don’t want to be rude but I’m getting out my skin thermometer now to check.” He took the cap off and pressed it to her neck.

So he had a whole minute before it’d tell him the temperature… Should he make small talk?

“Nice weather today.” He spoke with caution.

“Wouldn’t know.” Caroline replied simply. “I haven’t left the hospital in months.”

“You’re not even in intensive care anymore.” Dwight was questioning her motive. “Why haven’t you left?”

“I don’t know.” Caroline seemed confused at her own actions.

“Well we have really nice gardens here.” Dwight smiled because this was in fact, not a lie. “Here’s a deal; if you survive vitals, we can go to the gardens.”

There was a moment of hesitation which made him think he’d overstepped the mark before she replied with a genuine smile. “Deal.”

Dwight knew it was genuine because for once the smile reached her eyes. The moment was broken, however, by the thermometer going off.

“You’re at 36.9 degrees celsius.” Dwight stated. “A safe body temperature.”

“Wow.” She smiled. “Well done me.”

“You ready for pulse?”

“I think so.”

After finding some plainclothes for Caroline (“You can actually see my behind in this gown.”) Dwight and Caroline had made it to a bench, a few metres outside the main entrance of the hospital. There were bluebells growing around as it was springtime and the sun was out. Caroline leaned back in a position most comfortable for her ribs and she seemed almost as if to glow in the late afternoon sun.

“Dr Enys?” Caroline inquired. “Why are you staring at me?”

Dwight looked away quickly, creating an awkward silence. Damn it.

“Well.” She looked down at her plainclothes. “I’m going to have to agree… I heart New York.”

“Sorry.” Dwight apologised truthfully. “This is my first time in the garden with a patient. I never really make conversation with women anywhere other than with patients. I don’t really know them at all.”

Caroline smiled and he realised his candor paid off. “Well my parents always led the conversations between me and men,” She expressed. “Hoping I’d marry a rich one. Explains my awful taste in men to be honest.” Dwight’s thoughts immediately went to her boyfriend. “So you can probably say… I don’t know men at all.”

“What would you like to know?” Dwight asked hastily.

There was a pause. A silence. And then-

Dwight’s phone rang.

“Hang on a sec. It might be important.” He picked it up. “Hello?”

“Dwight would you like to tell me where the fuck you are?” Demelza sounded less than amused. “It’s quarter past five.”

“Oh no.” Dwight shut his eyes in frustration, completely forgetting their engagement. “Ok ok, I will be there in fifteen minutes.”

“It’s an hour and you know it.” Demelza seemed disgruntled. “Where are you anyway?”

“I’m in the hospital gardens.”

“With who?”

“Caroline Penvenen.”

“Right ok, get here as soon as possible.” He could tell she was pissed because she hung up straight away.

As he wandered back inside and handed Caroline to Verity (she promised she wouldn’t scream this time) he wondered about the news Demelza had to give.

--

It had just gone half six when he arrived at Demelza’s house. It was tiny and inherited but comfortable and uniquely hers. He knocked on the door, completely wiped from a full day at work.

She answered the door. “Dwight. Come in.”

He could hear odd noises in the background. “Is everything ok?” He asked as he stepped inside.

“Ok you have to promise not to freak out.” She looked at him, expectant of an answer.

“I promise?” To be honest, he was just desperate to know what on earth was going on.

She opened the door and Dwight was confronted immediately.

With

Was that a dog? Licking his leg?

“Demelza what the fuck!” He looked down at the tiny pug licking his ankle, simultaneously woofing. “What the fuck possessed you to get a dog? You’re a nurse? How could you get a dog knowing you work 12 hour shifts? You can’t expect this dog to have a good quality of-”

“It’s not my fucking dog!” Demelza cut him off sharply. “It’s Caroline’s.”

Ah.

“That makes sense.” Dwight calmed a little. “I’m still worried for the dog though- does it get walked regularly? Is it ok?”

“His name is Horace.” Demelza picked him up and Horace growled. “And he fucking hates my guts. But yes I walk and feed his stupid arse and when I’m on shift Ross drops in.”

Ah, that’s why Ross had been spending so much time here.

“But why you, Demelza? Where the fuck is her family in all of this?” Dwight had so many questions and very few answers.

“Ok it’s for another reason.” She pointed her finger warningly. “That you’re not going to freak out about and listen to with no qualms.”

“Well I can’t guarantee that.” Dwight laughed a little. “You’ve just thrown a dog on me.”

Demelza looked silent and almost guilty, making him tense up. “Follow me upstairs.” He did so and with every step he had yet another question about the enigmatic Caroline Penvenen.

They stopped outside Demelza’s room. “Promise not to freak out?”

“You speaking is only making me want to freak out more and more.”

“Okay.” She pushed open her bedroom door and in the middle of the fucking floor.

Was a fucking crib.

“Yours and Ross’s love child?” Dwight joked. “No seriously Demelza, if you’re letting Horace sleep in that, you’re spoiling him way too much.”

Demelza walked over to the crib and picked up its contents. Which was.

A small baby, no older than 18 months.

Remember, Dwight is a doctor, he knows these things.

“Oh fucking lord.” Dwight’s eyes were wide. “You've really done it this time Demelza.”

“It’s not mine!” She looked pretty offended. “This is Sarah. She’s Caroline’s.”

“Oh God.” The impact of the situation swooped into the forefront of his mind like a brick. “How on earth are you looking after her?”

“We have a nanny. As in, the court gave me Caroline’s bank details so I could afford one.”

“You had to go through the court?” Dwight was freaking out- he didn’t even know it and Demelza was going through so much.

“It was either me, the godmother or a care home and we all know the care system is fucked. I’ve grown about 100 grey hairs Dwight.”

“Can I hold her?” Dwight loved babies and Sarah was for sure a cute one.

“This is what I wanted to talk to you about.” Demelza sighed, holding Sarah closer. “In the last year Dwight, Caroline has isolated her entire family, had the worst boyfriend ever just to avenge her parents, ended up pregnant and alone, been knocked into a coma and she’s just woken up with a whole string of responsibilities she can’t even cope with.”

“I didn’t know.”

“And when you said you were in the gardens with Caroline, that worried me Dwight.” Demelza confessed. “Because she doesn’t understand what she’s coming back to. She asks every single day how Sarah is and I say the same, missing you. But that’s not true, Sarah’s lived most of her life with me as a stand-in mum whilst Caroline can’t even dress herself. When I signed up to be godmother, I signed up for buying Sarah cute clothes once a year not being a full time mother. Does that make me a bad person?”

“I don’t think so.” Dwight said after a moment of hesitation. “You’ve been stretched to the max and it must’ve been so awful that night Caroline was in surgery.” “You have no fucking clue.” She shook her head. “I’m just going to say it now. When I took Caroline for her shower this morning, I heard her request you and I’m just going to ask you to leave her be for a bit. She obviously has a little crush on you which I entertained for a while but now I’ve realised how serious this is. She needs stability and chasing after some guy, even the nicest guy I know, isn’t going to give it to her. Do you understand?” She smiled weakly but Dwight felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

Hard.

“Yeah.” He replied with a strained smile. “If she requests me again, I will ignore her. It’s not really professional anyway.” He couldn’t even make himself believe it.

“I’m so glad.” She smiled stronger now. “So glad you understand.”

Dwight did not understand shit.