#this was also right after a really tragic death of one of our patients

[wildernessuntothemselves]

my last shift was so exhausting, literally back to back multiple traumas and arrests that we barely got any time to sit down and right before i was going to sleep for a bit we got another arrest

and then when i did go to sleep i was woken up an hour later at 5 am because the prosecutor wanted to take my statement because the dude who died was a judge or something and i was the one who wrote the death certificate

[tietoons]

Soooo listening to Saint Motel n the song "Bullets" is so Ghost Trick coded I cannot sit still

(SUPER DUPER SPOILERS BELOW)

The whole song made me think so much about our favorite dancing desk lamp and I'm going to ramble about it and no one can stop me mwahahaha

Standing in the shadows/Hero of the story -> Ray (aka Missile) waits patiently for ten WHOLE YEARS just to wait for Sissel to come along aka die so he can 'guide' Sissel in the right direction that will save everyone.

It's a sure shot, it's yours to lose -> When Lynne is manipulated into shooting Sissel n Yomiel...later when Missile swaps the bullets to save Cabanela and, more importantly, Yomiel back in time.

It's the kind of love that rains down/once upon a lifetime -> Ray waited so, so long to save his 'little ladies' Lynne and Kamila. Ten whole years. That's long enough for a human but for a dog? That'd be the rough equivalent of +50 DOG YEARS. That's an overwhelming majority of his lifespan, yet he waited, all because he loved his owners.

Can you see the goal line?/Everything is lined up/Waiting for your moment -> Again Ray waiting in the junkyard for Sissel after Yomiel manipulates Lynne into shooting, which in itself is akin to a stage (to make conclusive evidence n get Lynne in jail). And the moment Sissel goes down, Ray takes his cue and jumps into action.

You don't stop a bullet that you set into motion -> Ray. Missile. Swap bullets. Several times. Along with giant statues that squish little girls to death. Even when it's in motion, Missile/Ray can and WILL stop a bullet in motion.

So then, why would we fight it...counting down, down, down -> Ray doesn't have the powers to save Lynne or Kamila. He can swap items and rewind time, but it's not enough. Yet he doesn't give up. He chooses to fight it, by waiting it out to guide Sissel--who DOES have the power to save them--in the right direction that will save everyone. Also counting down, the countdown until death, until dawn, along with waiting for again TEN HECKIN YEARS to avert a tragic fate.

Once you made your mind up/ You're never going back -> Ray is loyal as a dog (for obvious reasons) and refuses to give up. He can't undo their fate, and after those ten years, his spirit is weak, he's running out of time. But he never turned his back on his beloved owners. His mind was made up the moment he reached out to Kamila's lifeless body.

I really, REALLY would like to make an AMV of some sort, maybe more of a bunch of still images lol. I don't have the manpower to draw that right now, but gosh darn would I love to storyboard this alghesigshligehil

BTW "It's All Happening" also by Saint Motel from the same album is post-game if I ever heard it

[evilbeanieman]

For YTTD's 6th anniversary, here are my

Top 6 Most Iconic Shin Moments

Number 6: Sacrificing himself for Kanna

I mean this moment kind of just. Lays it out for itself. It shows his true nature, gives us the reason as to why he has the 0.0% survival rate. We see the most human side of him, the side that's completely and utterly selfless and kind. It's a great act of sacrifice and love and kindness, while equal parts tragic for what he put himself and Sara through. I could say more about it, but that's best saved for a post by itself.

Number 5: Working Together with Nao

I remember playing through this moment and having this strange feeling of surrealness. I thought, "Was Nao really teaming up with Shin? Could this actually be something good?" And even if it was a brief hope, they still managed to form a great team and get everybody together. I think additionally it's interesting that Nao came to Shin for help. Obviously he was the most reasonable choice, considering his computer skills, but it makes you realize that Nao doesn't necessarily see Shin as a bad person. She knows he's a good guy, even if he's done some terrible things in the death game. Again, another thing to be saved for a later post.

Number 4: The First Case

guys holy shit shin drank the grimace shake first holy shit he ate the grimace shake HE WAS PATIENT ZERO

Number 3: High Five!

Come on, this moment is adorable. You can give him a high five for his good work! Even if it ends a bit awkwardly, it's just such a simple but funny gesture. Shin would be the type to wince when you give him too hard of a high five, but appreciates it all the same.

Number 2: Pleading at the Grave

There's something about this moment that just gives me some goosebumps. It's the way that this is after Kanna dies, after he's sworn to come after everyone who let her die, after believing that he has no control in this death game, after coming face to face with Midori once again. There's so much weight here. Gin has shown Shin little kindness, always wary of him and calling him loner and other things. Their relationship is nothing like the one he had with Kanna, and yet, and yet we get this scene right here. Shin begging Midori, calling him Hiyori, in order to try and convince him not to kill Gin. This is Shin. This is everything he is.

Number 1: The Slutty Sprite

Hear me out. Not only is this sprite half responsible for our collective thirsting over this loser, but it also serves a huge narrative purpose as it shows us that he's a victim just like us. He's not the main antagonist. It perfectly sets up the reveal for the later main game and oh my god look at that collarbone I JUST WANT TO MUNCH-

(fun fact- turns out this moment is a "most replayed" moment on the no commentary run by Mono Chrome)

[cadybear420]

Cadybear's Re-Reviews- With Every Heartbeat

Welcome to the third of Cadybear’s RE-Reviews! In Re-Reviews, I of course reassess my original opinion of a story I’ve recently replayed. Maybe my opinion has changed, or maybe it still holds up and I have further thoughts. 

Today I will be re-reviewing With Every Heartbeat, the twenty-second review I’ve done. The last time I played this story was 3 years ago, in April 2021. I last reviewed it in March 2024, putting it on the Silver Tier with a 7 stars out of 10 rating. As of my most recent replay however, I can comfortably put it on the Platinum Tier at 9 stars out of possible 10.

Okay. Uh. What the fuck. My last review did NOT do this book justice. It was praising, but more or less apathetic. Which I think is because… it's not one that got a lot of strong opinions out of me back when I first and last played it, which was about 3 years ago. But still. 

Anyways, this time around, the story really grew on me and I am so so glad I replayed it. 

To start, a lot of elements of this story are pretty goddamn refreshing, especially as a single LI story. The romance between MC and Dakota, most notably, is actually very enjoyable. It barely feels like a romance that leans heavily into gendered/normative tropes, and instead feels more egalitarian. Dakota is a single customizable LI, but they actually have character and depth. Not to mention they’re also the sweet and soft babygirl type that we’ve sorely been missing lately. 

Although I wasn’t really sold on how fast Dakota fell for our MC, as time went on and we saw MC and Dakota spend more time together in the hospital and on the film project, it did start to feel more grounded. And by the time of the student film festival, where we got to see the final result of their hard work culminate, I was definitely invested in their relationship. 

One part in particular that stuck with me is when Dakota ran out after seeing Nolan Grant come in, and the premium scene where we can follow and talk to them, they confess they’re worried because a lot of other student projects seemed to go into more deep, abstract, serious themes, and then theirs was “just a silly little ghost story”. Honestly, that just hit really close to home for me, because I’ve felt similarly to Dakota about my own creative works. I’ve often felt insecure that some of the fanworks I’ve made don’t delve into nearly the level of complex themes as what my friends have made, and thus just look “trivial” and “childish” in comparison. So when I see Dakota expressing that insecurity, I JUST WANT TO FUCKING HUG HIM. 

In my original review, I did say that it was serviceable in being a tragic romance– it was done well, but it didn’t wow me. After my replay, however, I say it was done quite masterfully. I feel like it would have been really easy for this story to treat Dakota’s cancer cheaply or be overly wishy-washy about it, and like I said, I do think Dakota fell for MC just a bit too quickly… but in the grand scheme of things, it was anything but cheap or wishy-washy. It treats Dakota’s situation (as well as that of other hospital patients) with a lot of maturity and nuance, and the emotional framing is all in the right places. 

And can I just also say how well-constructed the atmosphere of the book is? Especially the scene that leads up to Dakota’s death. I usually don’t go in-depth about the use of sounds and music in Choices, but I absolutely have to here. In my original review, I said that it still shook me quite a bit, even knowing it was coming. That still rings true, but even more strongly now. 

First of all, the thumping heart audio sound from ILB that’s used just as MC arrives at the hospital and hears that Dakota’s body is rejecting the bone marrow transplant. That in itself is absolutely chilling and captures the feeling of sudden shock and internal panic quite well. 

Second, and probably most importantly, there’s something to be said about the choice of music track that’s used as we see Dakota in their last moments. Instead of going with one of the emotionally-charged sad piano tracks that they’ve been using throughout the story that one would typically expect… they go with the slow and tender guitar track. And personally, I think this is a fantastic move. 

After the aforementioned scene with the heart pounding, which captures the mood of shock and internal panic, we transition to what I think is a more… peaceful mood to Dakota’s death. It emphasizes that even though everything suddenly went wrong for them… Dakota died having been with their loved ones. They died having experienced all this happiness and adventure in the past year with the MC, their friends, etc. They died having been supported and loved. Kind of like the old saying “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened”.

Which is exactly the message of the story overall. Making sure your loved ones have, as well as making sure you yourself have, in Dakota’s words… a life worth watching. No matter what adversity or tragedy you face, no matter how your life may end. Whether it’s a potentially terminal illness, or the loss of a loved one. And not gonna lie? That got me to tear up, in this playthrough. And it still gets me to tear up when I think about it. 

My main problems? Obviously this book being the most pointlessly genderlocked story that ever pointlessly genderlocked, for one thing. But besides that, my only gripe would have to be the part of the story where MC’s mom was being a hardass on MC dating Dakota. Most especially when she says MC is becoming a different person she “doesn’t recognize” from hanging out with them, after MC taught Dakota how to bike. 

I get why the mom was worried about MC dating Dakota, because she herself had lost her loved one to cancer… but the “I barely recognize you” line just did not feel fitting for any of MC’s behaviors. It felt more like it was written for the ROD MC’s dad. I also think they had MC be a bit unfair to her mom over her not spending a lot of time with her. Like, I get why MC might feel neglected, especially as a teenager, but these are surgeries where people’s lives are on the line. Luckily those whole plotlines seemed to be short-lived, but like… why even include them at all?

The story did feel very minimal in impactful choice gameplay, which is why I can’t quite rank it on the diamond tier… but I don’t think that harms the story nearly as much as it does others. And the choices that do exist– such as customizing Dakota’s film, or choosing which college your MC ends up going to, or choosing to shave our MC's hair in solidarity with Dakota– still feel pretty meaningful and engaging. 

Honestly I feel kind of bad that I didn’t care much for the story in my first playthrough. It’s really well-done, and is definitely among my favorites now.

[astranite]

Funny story: today I rescued a chicken.

This got kinda long but it is fairly funny and has a happy ending. Also there is Thunder and Birds involved, but not in the usual way. And I have no one to give the blow-by-blow account of the saga to, and I Need to Tell Story. So dear friends, *drags you to sit around my figurative fireplace* enjoy my tale!

(Minor warning of reference to past animal death.)

Because the universe really does have a sense of humour, this all started when I was sitting outside, because it was a nice sunny day, while reading @gaviiadastra's 'Chicken Dad' series. (its great, Im only 5 chapters in, go read it!)

And then I hear loud chicken clucking noises. Which I am understandably very surprised to hear. There is some *looks at laptop* *looks up again* "What the fuck???"

So I go out to investigate. I find a chicken. A very cute, fairly large black hen with the slightest green sheen to her feathers. In all likelihood a Black Australorp.

Outside my yard, just chilling. And still bok-bok-boking loudly.

And I'm like, "huh." And wow, that was not just my imagination.

Now backstory time: My family used to keep chickens, a small flock of them living happily in our yard. I loved them very much, and I kinda still miss them even though it was years ago now. They also had ridiculous triple-barrel names.

Tragic backstory time: One of our chickens got eaten by a fox. (it was extremely upsetting, the chicken was our friend.)

There are also a whole bunch of outdoor cats around the neighbourhood, and a highway nearby, and generally a lot of dangers to escapee chickens. So I'm understandably pretty worried about this chook, because its also lateish afternoon and will get dark. And just leaving it there really doesn't fly with me.

Time for the rescue plan: I'm going to catch that chicken, then figure out where it lives and return it. Because I vaguely remembered some neighbours keeping chickens, and a door knock around should point me in the right direction. (Or if not, I get to keep chickens again, y'know, if it still needs a good home.)

I put shoes on, because stomping around in my slippers is likely ill advised, grab a crust of bread because it the best chicken attracting thing i can quickly find, and yell to a family member where i'm going, getting the underwhelming response of, "Uh huh, sure."

Plan A: Lure chicken close to me with bread and catch it once it is in arms reach.

There is some throwing of pieces of bread, me making inviting clucking noises (actually one of my talents, I have fooled people with it before,) me staying very still, the chicken slowly coming closer.

Eventually the chicken is pecking the bread piece from my hand. I take my moment. My fingertips brush feathers. The chicken runs off. Note to self: chickens are fast and I'm very out of practice at chicken nabbing.

Takes two through like eight or something: Lure chicken in, gain its trust, wait until it gets really close, then catch it.

And nope. The chicken is having None Of That. It still gets a fair bit of bread bits, thrown out around me. And its having a merry old time, wandering around, pecking at grass, and being adorable. (I really like chooks, they're cute.)

By this point my butt's gone numb and my shitty knees are Complaining. And I've been at this more than half an hour, like seriously, this chicken has mastered the art of 'close enough for snacks, but not close enough to get got.'

And I am Very Patient (in some circumstances, such as these, though not all), but I can also hear thunder as a storm is coming in. And this clearly isn't working. And the chicken is wandering away. And I'm at least ten times its size and supposedly the cleverer one here.

So onto Plan B: Get me close to the chicken. Catch the darned chicken.

I get up, shove the bit of bread in my pocket, stretch, then calmly walk after the chicken. Because panicky chicken could definitely out-sprint me. And we're gonna avoid that. I'm also hoping the whole 'persistence predator' thing pays off.

Additional context notes: I live right next to a park. Sort of. There's several metres of rocky cliff between the row of houses and the park. And a narrow strip of land between said cliff and houses. Which is where me and the chicken are, of course.

So there is the additional difficulty of 1) dont chase chicken off cliff (the chicken would be fine, its only couple of metres high and it has unclipped wings. Also would be new problem of chicken running loose in big park.) 2) dont fall off cliff because i dont want to explain it to family/curious strangers/paramedics that this was all because of a chicken.

There is a lot of very careful manoeuvring. Some tactical retreats because that chicken really likes that cliff edge. An amount of bush bashing. Some strategic climbing of slopey parts where it's not so cliff steep. I run into sticks and tree branches and spiderwebs. I Follow That Chicken.

There is a stand off. A rout. I direct the chicken towards the houses and manage to corner it with a fence. And then I've got an armful of somewhat flappy chicken until I get the wings under control. Then I've just got a chicken. A very sweet chicken who is now pretty chill with being held.

Return of the Chicken: It's the first house I go to. I ring the bell, no one answers. I wander round the side a bit thinking maybe I ended up at the back door with all the chicken chasing. A dog spots me in the window and starts barking. So I stand there to wait for that to get someone's attention because I'm 90% sure its the right house.

Person appears in window. Me: *waves* *points at chicken*

Epilogue: It was confirmed that the chicken belonged there. The person was very grateful for the return of their chicken. And wasn't too put out by a rando showing up at the door with a chicken in their arms. Me in my red chequered flannel and possibly covered in leaves. The chicken did not have a name, I asked. I suggested Jailbreak as a suitable one.

I gave the chicken one last pat then handed her over (somewhat reluctantly. She was a very soft, fluffy, lovely chook) (and I named her.) (I really miss having chickens, if you can't tell that already.)

I went home and after a while it stormed, seriously like right on top of us with no break between thunder and lightning. Very glad I got the chicken before that. And got inside. I also won't tell you how long it took to find the bread still in my pocket but I'm very glad it didn't go through the wash. Now I blogged on tumblr about it.

And so the chicken rescue saga comes to an end, with all parties safe and dry and no one even fell off a cliff. Also I got to hold a chicken and that was a major win for my day!

*THE END*

[emailsicantsnd]

inspired by @imtalkin​ but here’s my sabrina story!!!! took a long time bc there’s a lot of history and i remember it all in great detail so this was written in hella chunks bc a girl gets tired 😗 also adding the cut just so y’all are prepared for the amount of stuff that’s under it lol

so i started watching gmw way back when it first aired and first off just felt so seen by maya’s character and then learned that she was played by the incomparable sabrina carpenter right around the time CBAGFT came out and i just LOVED the song right off the bat esp. because i was really into a guy i did sports with and it was kinda my hype song to get me to ask him out (nothing came of it tragically). with the pilot and following the show so intently as well as loving her music from the get go, i just knew i had to follow everything she did. so i kept watching gmw, started my main blog for the purpose of posting about it (it’s still all there at the start of my archive since i was a diehard lucaya shipper and am still not over it) and patiently waited for her debut album after playing the CBAGFT ep to death (and silver nights, her best christmas song). 

so we keep watching gmw and she releases eyes wide open and i was sad ONLY bc she wasnt touring near me and i really wanted to see her live! but i of course loved the album front to back. the chokehold the lyric “everybody loves to tell me i was born an old soul” had on me was INSANE. also top three from the album bc i feel like it: your love’s like, seamless, and probably ewo (although i would def put some of the ep songs up there in the top 3 but since we had them before the album i only wanna rank the new album songs)

some time passes and she announces on purpose which will always have such a special place in my heart and always be one of my favorite songs of hers forever bc the day after it was released is when i had the epiphany i was in love with my best friend after spending the night with him and that was the song i played the next morning as i was packing my bags to go home and i realized “oh shit i’ve been in love with him for years”  🥴

finally, she releases EVOLution which also is a special album to me bc that was the first tour i finally got to see her on and meet her! i remember buying m&g tickets in my health class and she was actually coming to my city (never happens) so i was ECSTATIC!!! i will never forget that day of the concert, i was wearing the smoke and fire limited capsule merch she did to raise money for the red cross and a pair of booties i had bought that she had worn that one of those like “fashion of sabrina carpenter” blogs posted back in the day. also that tour was so well set up like the line to get to the meet and greet had a stop at the merch table so we could buy our merch on the way which is so smart and im mad no one’s ever done that since (at least to tours i’ve been to w/ m&g). she was such an angel to meet, i was so stupid and the first thing i said when they opened the curtains to the little photo op was “oh my god you’re you!” and she was so nice about me being awkward and she was like “im me!” i told her how i was such a fan and loved her music and loved gmw and she was so nice and thankful and we took our professional photo and a selfie on my phone and i will never forget how she is the only celeb i’ve met who made sure to ask my name bc i always forget to mention it and she would not let me leave until i told her my name, which she said was a “beautiful name” 🥰🥰🥰 and then i went up to the french fry party upstairs w/ the q&a portion. i think i was like one of the only ppl who asked a genuine question whereas everyone else asked her to record a vid saying hi to their friends. i had asked what her favorite song to write on the album was and she said feels like loneliness “becaue it happened like lightning*snapped her fingers*” and explained the writing process (i still have the vid of her answering my quesiton) 🥰 it was the first concert i ever got to be in the front row, and it was AMAZING like the chair dance??? iconic. the neon signature sign???? iconic. that’s when i knew i chose the right person to stan. 

fast forward a while and im still listening as strong as ever, almost love drops, she announces singular, PARIS DROPS and i remember my jaw was on the FLOOR when that came out (im a paris girlie more than a sue me girl like i remember her tweeting something like she’s played both songs and finds certain types of ppl liked paris and other types liked sue me does anyone remember this???). i remember putting my earbuds in and strutting around throughout my day feeling like such a baddie. the most devastating part of this era was that she did not come to my state to tour, and the next closest location i couldnt make it to so i didnt get to see her which was so sad especially bc maggie lindemann was opening for her and i also love her too :( but singular act 1 was and is phenomenal and i adore it so much. not to mention act 2 dropping, i was so glad we actually got exhale instead of it getting the alone together treatment 👀 👀 but im still so sad i didnt get to see any of those songs live. but i am thrilled i’ll get to hear honeymoon fades this month (god i remember the way we acted when she released that song and was dating gr*ffin 🥴 what a doozy that was)

i really dont like talking about the DL drama at all bc it was SO unfair to sabrina and josh and i dont like the way any of it went down and the lack of accountability. all im gonna say is i’ve been a diehard fan of sabrina since day one, and it broke my heart that she went through that at all and nothing could make me turn on blondie. it’s still kinda weird that i have friends that act like it’s a sin when i bring up that im a sabrina stan like bffr y’all are weird for asking me if she’s really my fave... skin was so good tho i loved that song 

anyhow, so onto the eics era!!!! my hot take is that i love skinny dipping (the song lmao), but i feel like fast times would have been a stronger choice for lead single 👀 🤷🏽‍♀️ 👀 (like literally just swap the order, release skinny dipping as the second single w/ the video) i played the SHIT out of fast times like she was right especially after learning how short life is after covid especially, these really are fast times and fast nights. also vicious??? INCREDIBLE i was screaming that shit daily until the album came out. and the ALBUM!!!! i was on vacation in california when it dropped so i think im always gonna associate it with staying up late to listen to it while looking out at the city lights from the suburbs. and i ADORED it. how many things had me crying bc call back to the on purpose story from earlier! by listening to it in california which is where we were last togtheter, not only did how many things remind me of him, but being in the same place again??? ouch my heart 🥴 this makes me want to do a ranking bc i love all her songs and eics is skipless perfection but safe to say the album has been on repeat ever since. sadly, she didnt come to my state AGAIN for the first leg of the eics tour, but she is for this leg so i’ll be seeing her this month for the first time since 2016 and i could not be more excited !!!!!!!!!!

ALSO since i dont ever get to tell this story i was one of the winners of the signed sweet tooth perfume sweepstakes which was fucking insane???? one of the best moments ive had being a fan of hers bc that was insane and it smells so fucking good???? the email saying i had won went to my junk folder so im so glad i actually checked it when i did or i would have been DEVASTATED 

also the deluxe???? opposite and things i wish you said BROKE ME IN HALF and ofc lonesome and feather are also incredible!!!! she doesnt miss ever!!!!

i feel like most of this is just reactions to her albums and my evolution tour story but it really is just that i’ve been a fan since day one and have not wavered in that, and will always be here for miss carpenter  ♥️♥️♥️

sorry that was a lot but it’s been a lot of years i’ve been a fan lol

[thedrixie]

I made a creepypasta AU.

It is simply called Blood on the Ground

Blood on the Ground  is a creepypasta au that is mainly focused on the slender family. In this Au, most of the slender siblings are not related at all and only knew each other due to the town they passed away in. With each death, a new branch of the slender family is almost always opened. A slender is born from a weary soul whose life was taken away under tragic circumstances. Each death lands in a different category, which determines the victim's slender color.

For example: Murder or homicide is red.

This Au takes place the very quiet and lovely town of River Brookes that resides in a valley where both sunny days and rainy days are treated the same. Like a gift. The town is surrounded by lush woods and plenty of wildlife. Rare plants also grow on the edges of town and nature is treated with respect. In this town, everybody knows everyone and everyone is treated with kindness and respect. Travelers are welcomed in but are often shooed out if they break the town's peace. Sometimes visitors get paranoid at how kind and sweet the town is, often thinking it's a trap to lure people in for some cult reason (which it's not, they are really just kind people). And when some of these visitors let the Paranoia get to them, it often leads to tragedy, which takes us to our first victim in this AU.

Lucy Calprium: Lucy is the second oldest sibling in the Calprium line, right after his brother Richard (who is this universe's slenderman and Lucy is this universe's version of my own creepypasta character, Surgical). Lucy was a hard working doctor that used basically every penny he earned for charity or used it to help the very old hospital he worked in despite being brought up in a very wealthy home. By the time Lucy had turned 11, he knew he wanted to be a doctor as he believed he had was it took to make a mark in the town of River Brookes. He used every ounce of free time he could and studied as many times of medicine and medical practices as he could in order to prepare himself for the doctor role he wished to fulfill.  Doing so caused him to have an excelled knowledge of medicine and helped him get his medical license quicker.  He was professional in almost every form of medical field. He later got a job as one of the head doctors in the New Hope Hospital. He cared so much for his patients and always put them first. He would adapt treatments as best as he could in order to keep patients calm. He would often talk them threw it whenever he could and did everything to show that they were going to be ok. Sometimes he even forgot to eat when treating patients. When he had been in the profession for several years, he started to notice how out of date the equipment was and that there was a need for repair but the hospital didn't have the funds for it as there was hardly any staff there as not a lot of people had the intelligence to become a doctor and several more were blocked with the problem of being far too sensitive when it came to seeing how the body worked, deeming them unsuitable for the medical field. So he held fundraisers and used his own money to update the hospital. He was beloved and was seen as an honest and trustworthy man. However, someone had a strong belief that deep down, he was poisoning people and killing them. That someone was the grandchild of one of Dr. Calpriums elderly patients. Lucy knew he could save the poor Mrs Eldwood, no matter how hard he tried and no matter how much he wanted to help her live on. She had just turned 109 the previous summer and was suffering from serious health issues. Mrs Eldwood made Lucy promise that once she started to go that he would not try to save her. He reluctantly agreed despite it being heavy on his heart. He knew it was best as despite how much he fought to keep patients alive, he didn't want her suffering anymore. Eventually, she passed away mid conversation with Lucy after she told him she was feeling so tired. He knew it was time and held her hand as he told her his goodbyes. Mrs Eldwoods grandson came hours after her passing and believed Lucy was to blame. After a bit of stalking, the grandson caught Lucy working in a lab and was mixing up some sort of solution. At the time, Lucy was also holding a fundraiser for a new children's hospital to be built as he found New Hope wasn't suitable or safe to house the few ill children that were there. The grandson believed Lucy was holding a type of poison he was injecting into his patients that caused them to perish under his care. Unfortunately, that was far from the truth. After about a year or two of work, the new children's hospital was built. A few towns folk helped Lucy install the new equipment and get everything set up inside. Soon everyone left as the job had been done, leaving Lucy alone inside. The grandson took the chance and caused the building to catch on fire, making sure Lucy got trapped inside. Despite his efforts of fighting, Lucy was crushed under the debris of the hospital in the entrance way. His two siblings Richard and Sunday unfortunately only made it in time to see him reach out for help before the hospital's roof collapsed. It was later discovered that the grandson was the one to cause the fire. The grandson held up a sample of the fluid he caught Lucy mixing and exclaimed that he put an end to Lucy's reign of terror and that he could now no longer poison any more patients. Infuriated, one of the other doctors that had been working with Lucy revealed that the strange fluid wasn't poison at all, but was a medication that Lucy had made that was helping people who had been trapped under falling rocks or under a vehicle to calm down and put them in a state where their breathing was drastically slowed down so it was easier to get them out, turning the grandson into a paranoid monster.

.......

Shall I tell more?

[populationpensive]

Difference

Found this in my drafts from when I was on burn service- not sure why I didn’t share it before. I think because at the time I wrote it, I was very angry and felt that I shouldn’t write something and post it out of anger. It’s been many months since this patient case, and I feel ready to share it. 

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I am frequently asked by a variety of people how I do my job. “How do you work in burn?? How do you handle seeing the things you see?” HOW?” I’ve got a simply and more thought-out/complex answer for that question depending on where I am or who I’m with. This week, I’ve been challenged by my job in profound way. While what I’m about to say is at times graphic and upsetting, I really want people to consider the unimaginable - that you, a friend, or a loved one may be put in a situation where who have to make a decision. 

We recently received a patient who was regrettably burned >60% TBSA in a house fire. Tragic story in all ways. This person, we will can him Bill, is almost 70  y/o with a variety of health ailments which limit function on even the best of days. Bill’s burns are on his face, back, chest, abdomen, buttocks, and bilateral upper extremities with severe inhalation injury. Most burns are full thickness or likely to convert. When we receive a new patient, we begin to fluid resuscitate them until we can speak with family unless they are quite clearly charred (yes, this is a thing and it is as horrific as you may imagine). 

We have a few decent mortality indices in burn. The most reliable index we have in the revised Baux score which accounts for age, %TBSA, and inhalation injury. The presence of inhalation injury generally pushes the likelihood of death up by 15-20%. By this index, Bill has an unsurvivable injury. This was, of course, explained to the family. They decided to move forward. 

Sometimes, it’s a crap shoot if someone will survive resuscitation. Families sometimes want to see if their loved one can make it through this process. Someone who is already older or ill will receive up to 20, 30, even 40 liters of fluid in 24 hours. In conjunction with normal burn swelling, this renders someone completely unrecognizable. 

Bill struggled a little with resuscitation initially and required more fluid that we anticipated. Because his injuries were circumferential, we had to perform escharotomies on the hands and arms. We make incisions in the skin down to subcutaneous fat from the upper arm to the wrist because the extraordinary amount of fluid compresses the muscles and starves them of oxygen; the escharotomy is meant to reverse compartment syndrome and potentially allow Bill to use him arms if he manages to survive. 

Bill survives resuscitation and daily monitoring of the burns reveals conversion to full thickness. All areas of full thickness (3rd degree) burn injury have to be surgically removed because that dead tissue will cause him to be septic in short order. We explain this to the family, but also caution that we are not confident that he will survive surgery due to his other health problems and depth of burn. We caution them that he is at a high risk of being completely colonized with bacteria, fungus, and mold. We are asked to proceed anyway. 

In the OR, we use large blades akin to a cheese slicer to remove this dead tissue. An initial large excision in the burn OR usually ends with the floor covered in blood and it is not uncommon for patients to lose up to a liter intra-operatively. Poor Bill had his entire arms filleted down to muscle, and that muscle is beginning to look necrotic. All the skin and fat on his chest is removed. Down to muscle. Which also doesn’t look healthy. Many of these muscles do not contract with electrocautery.

We took intra-operative pictures and showed the family. Sometimes, we do this if we feel the family might not fully understand what we are doing to their loved ones. Because, and I have to stress this, there is a VERY big difference between doing something FOR a patient and doing something TO them. We are currently doing things TO Bill at this point. 

“He’s a fighter! He believes in miracles!” says his family. Ok. But. 

We have weekly care conferences with all families to discuss goals of care. The family wants to proceed full steam ahead in spite of our advise. When we asked “what would your dad want?” (because we are MORALLY and ETHICALLY obligated to care about the wants/desires of the PATIENT), we were told that as his medical team that we were not privy to that information; “we won’t tell you that.” We were told that we were being “too serious” and that unless his organs fail and his neuro status is trash that they will press forward. We were told that they expected their dad to be in a wheel chair anyway so his future contractures from his burns “aren’t a problem.” 

It really took every ounce of patience within me not to not slap them. It really did. I understand the trauma and shock of a loved one being in that sort of situation. Not personally, of course, but I have seen this happen so many times that I know it is trying. Making decisions like this is so difficult. Families are forced to go through stages of grief at warp speed and processing everything is undoubtedly overwhelming. I know that. However. It is ABSURD that we were told we don’t have any right to know what the patient wants. Like, it doesn’t work that way. As the living next of kin, it’s YOUR JOB to be speak on their behalf. If they don’t want this shit done to them, you’re obligated to speak out. 

In the end, the patient coded. We brought him back. After this the family FINALLY came to terms with the unsurvivability of the injury. They let their dad go peacefully. 

What forever burns me up about this is that we were all medically hijacked by a family that could not see how cruel the treatments were to this individual. No matter what methods we tried or how sensitive we tried to be. By the time it clicked with them, we had effectively tortured their loved one and left them...left them like that. Half their skin missing. Covered in wet bandages ripe with bacteria. The smell. Everything. 

The reason why I so candidly write this is that I think it’s important to know that just because we have the medical ability to “fix” something does not always mean that we should. Of course, every patient situation is different and every family is different. But I encourage you as a providers and I encourage you as family members to really weigh the treatment options. What is the result of the option. If you’re a surgeon, speak candidly about what exactly you are doing. 

Because, in the end, there is a very big difference between doing something FOR the patient and doing something TO them. 

[weasleydream]

siblings are the angels who lift you up when your wings forget to fly

Another idea i’ve struggled to write, but i really love it! do you think i should make it a series? we would see different moments of the triplets life, it’s something i would love to write!

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

Masterlist 

(photo not mine) 

“There’s no way you’re coming with us Y/N, that’s all.”

For absolutely everyone, my triplets, Fred and George, were funny guys never afraid of anything. But Merlin, when it came to me… 

The atmosphere at the 12, Grimmauld Place had been really tense since the beginning of the day, when some members of the Order and our family had gathered to talk about the most important mission of all: bringing Harry safe and sound to the Burrow. The first plan had been simple and only involved Mad-Eye, but since the Ministry of Magic had been infiltrated by Death Eaters, we had to think of something else. That’s how Mundungus had come up with the idea of using Polyjuice Potion, which could work only if six people volunteered to enter Harry's skin. We had been seven to agree taking the risk, and when Mad-Eye had grumbled one of us would stay with Mum and Ginny at the Burrow (which Ginny didn’t like at all even though she hadn’t her word to say), Fred had claimed I would. 

Now, he, George and I were arguing because I didn’t want to stay on the sidelines.

“You know you don’t have to decide for me, right?”

“We just want you safe and sound, Y/N.” intervened George. “We know you can do this, but we would be worried and -”

“And you think I won’t be?” I interrupted him. Fred and George exchanged a look I couldn’t read, which annoyed me a bit more. They had always been like this, with this deep connexion I didn’t share with anyone. Don’t get me wrong; I was extremely close to them and we understood each other perfectly, but there was something unique between these two. “Practically all our family will be in danger, and you two will be out there without me and- and if anything happens, I don’t know what-”

“That’s exactly why you’re going to stay at home.” Fred put his hand on my shoulder. “If you’re not out there, nothing will happen to you and if, by the greatest of misfortunes, we die tragically, you’ll be there to carry our legacy. What do you think?” he added with a wink. 

“I think you’re a git. You’re both gits.” I mumbled before storming out. 

At this point, I knew arguing was useless: the plan was ready, and all of this was bigger than just my worries. But I just couldn’t picture myself waiting patiently on the couch while they were outside, threatened to be killed at every second, fearing the moment they would come back injured, and dreading the moment someone would tell me they were dead. I would have given anything to be able to go with them, even though risking my life to not fear for my family was selfish. 

I was downing the stairs as quietly as possible - even Filch hadn’t ever uttered insults as demeaning as the ones Sirius’ mother loved to throw to us - when shouts came to me. They seemed to come from a little room at the end of the corridor and I recognized Remus’ voice. I slowly approached the door. I didn’t want to eavesdrop, just to know if I could help, but what I heard made me stop. 

“You can’t go! I forbid you, you just can’t put yourself in danger!”

“But that’s my job, Remus!” It was Tonks, and her voice was high-pitched. I was sure her hair was currently bright red. “And the plan is ready, we can’t change it.”

“We can ask Y/N to take your place and-”

“And let her put herself in danger like this?” interrupted Tonks. “She’s too young!”

I groaned and decided to make my big entrance. 

“What’s happening?” I asked with my most innocent voice while opening the door. 

I met Remus’ eyes and mentally scolded myself. I used to reserve that voice for the professors when Fred, George and I were caught after a prank and I had forgotten for a second that Remus had heard it more than once. Now, he knew for sure I had heard everything. 

“Nothing!” replied quickly Tonks. “Nothing! Tell me Y/N, can you go and ask Molly if-”

“She’s pregnant.”

A long silence followed, during which Tonks was glaring at Remus who was looking at me with a determined look. And me, between the two, looking at them in turn with my mouth wide open, I was understanding why she couldn’t possibly participate in the mission. 

“Y/N, I’m begging you, you have to exchange places with her!” said Remus. 

“Of course.” I immediately agreed. “I’ll do it, yes, you can’t put your life and your baby’s in danger.” Another silence and I exclaimed. “I’ve almost forgotten! Congratulations!” 

But the couple didn’t seem in the mood of rejoicing and they were still tense. 

“Do you think Molly will agree?” finally asked Tonks.

“She won’t really have the choice.” I shrugged. 

“And Fred and George?”

“Don’t worry, they’ll understand.”

_ _ _

“Are you crazy? We told you no!”

How could I think they would be okay with that? 

I had joined Mum, Dad, Ginny, Fred and George in the kitchen. They were talking about how Aunt Muriel would be happy to see two members of the Order bursting in her place when I had innocently dropped the news. Ginny was glaring at me, Mum and Dad sharing worried glances, George rolling his eyes and Fred infuriated. 

“You do remember you have no right to forbid me anything, right?” I asked sarcastically. 

“She’s right, boys.” intervened Dad, which caused him to deal with some murderous looks. “She’s as adult as you both are.”

“Yes, I’m even older than you, George. Respect your elders.”

“Shut up, there’s only twenty minutes of difference between us!” replicated George. 

“That’s twenty minutes of constructive experiences more than you have.”

“Stop this!” interrupted Mum. “Stop now, or else I swear none of you will go out there. Y/N, whose place will you take?”

“And why?” added Fred. 

“Tonks is pregnant.”

Mum seemed torn between her concern for us and the happiness brought by the news of a baby’s arrival. 

“I understand…” muttered Dad. “That means you will protect someone else. Are you sure you will be okay? Maybe you can trade place with Fleur, I’m sure she will-”

“No, it’s okay! Bill wants to stay with her, I can’t separate them.”

Plus, I had understood during the meeting that Tonks would have been paired with Ron, and I was relieved to be able to stay with him. I knew my little brother had a true gift when it came to finding the problems, even more than Fred, George and I. And even though I loved all my siblings unconditionally, I had always had a soft spot for Ron. I was feeling like I had to be the one staying with him for this mission. 

“What’s happening here? I bet all London can feel the tension.”

Ron had opened the door but was staying on the doorstep, eyeing us all suspiciously. 

“Yes Y/N, what’s happening here?” asked Fred in a cranky way that was getting on my nerves. 

“Hope you still know how to fly on a broom, I won’t wait for you.” I winked and Ron smiled before frowning when George groaned. 

_ _ _ 

“Come on guys, you’re not going to ignore me forever!” I whined as Fred left the kitchen unceremoniously.

Mum shot a glance at me and turned her attention back to the pie she was baking. We were back at the Burrow and the house, even though it wasn’t particularly emptier than usual, was more silent. Something like a heavy tension seemed to be stifling all the sounds, and it made it even more obvious that my brothers were mad at me. If George was just a bit more withdrawn when he was in the same room as me, it was a whole other story with Fred. It’s not like I didn’t know he would be the worst about it because let’s be honest, I knew he was the most impulsive. But not speaking to me in three days? It was childish and definitely hurtful. 

“You know he’s just worried, right?”

George’s voice made me jump and I looked up. His back was resting against the back door. He was just standing there, his hands deep in his pockets and his eyes soft. 

“All I know is that he’s being a prat.” I muttered. 

Of course I knew he was worried, not only about me but also about the rest of our family. I knew this little voice he had probably in his head, the one that said There’s no way everyone is going to come back alive.

“And you’re being a prat too, Georgie.”

“Shut up.”

“You, shut up.”

George rolled his eyes and smiled.

“Sometimes I wonder why I even tolerate you.” he said while patting my shoulder as he walked past me. 

“Because you love me?”

“Obviously.”

“George?”

He stopped and looked back at me, his eyes a bit darker than usual. 

“I know,” he sighed heavily and grabbed a chair to sit next to me. 

For a minute or two, we watched silently as Mum was walking everywhere in the kitchen, grabbing things and putting them elsewhere, cleaning a corner of the table and placing an apple back on the basket. She eventually left the kitchen to go I didn’t know where, clearly disappointed as we hadn’t said anything else yet. 

“I’m as scared as you are, Y/N.” murmured George. “And so is Fred. You know how he is,” he added with a humourless chuckle. 

“Of course I know. George, we’ll be six out there, there’s no way-”

“Talking about our bright future without me? I’m hurt.”

Fred grabbed a third chair and pushed his way between George and I, the beginning of a smile on his lips. 

“Oh, so you suddenly remembered I’m your sister?”

“Yeah but unfortunately I haven’t forgotten how stubborn and annoying you can be.”

“That’s one of the nicest things you’ve told me these days. Oh wait- that’s the only thing you told me!”

George was watching out bickerings with a smirk. 

“Sometimes I wonder who is really the youngest,” he stated. 

The effect was immediate. Fred and I shared a glance before defending with an all renewed vigour our oldest-ness, and we kept screaming until George’s chuckles made us stop. 

“Here, I was beginning to think I would have to get Mum involved to get you two to talk again!”

“Same for me!”

Mum entered the kitchen again, a small smile on her lips. She made her way toward her, caressing my cheek and ruffling the boys’ hair before sitting in front of us. Any trace of joy had left her face; at this moment, the realization that she had never looked older hit me, hard. 

“I know we’ll all be worried to death tomorrow,” she began, and her lower lip trembled, making her stop a second. “I know it, but I also know how you three will be. I just wanted to remind you that no matter how hard it’ll be, you’ll need to focus on getting home safe and sound. Okay?”

“Come on Mum, you know we’re always focused!”

_ _ _ 

“Y/N, you need to focus!”

Ron’s voice arrived in my ears like a distant echo, but the urgency in his tone made me look away from the spot in the sky where the green light had just disappeared. I didn’t know who it was, but my mind couldn’t stop imagining the worse even though I didn’t even know what exactly the worse would be. Fred, George, Dad, Bill, my heart was aching at the very thought of one of them even slightly hurt. 

“Y/N!”

My instinct reacted for me, and my broom swerved violently to dodge the curse. Ron came closer to me and accelerated, making me understand I had to follow him. 

“Ron!”

For a split second, I thought that he had been hit and was going to fall off his broom, but it was knowing very little about my little brother. Not only did he dodge and regain his balance, but also stupefied the Death Eater, the spell hitting him right between the eyes. I didn’t have enough time to say anything though, because an intense sensation of heat enveloped me. With horror, I realized my broom was burning, and the responsible was just behind us with four of his friends. 

“Ron, leave!”

I barely registered him shaking his head and extending an arm toward me. 

“Y/N, take my hand!”

I couldn’t though, because I was falling, fast. The sound of my scream was getting lost in the deafening noise of the wind in my ears. The floor was getting closer and closer, and my thoughts got confused, becoming nothing more than an ocean of regrets, the biggest of them being failing my brothers, my family. I wouldn’t get Ron home, I wouldn’t get to see Fred and George again, and Bill’s wedding, I wouldn’t be able to hug my parents and Ginny, to reconcile with Percy and to hear Charlie’s stories. 

The vague thought that I still had a few seconds to live crossed my mind, and then I closed my eyes. 

_ _ _ 

It wasn’t the soreness of my body that woke me up, or the flow of thoughts that was crossing my mind, but Ron’s rambling. 

“Bloody hell,” he said, “what’s wrong with this family? No one is able to stay safe, crazy that we’re even still alive. ‘Ron, leave’? Seriously, Y/N? Come on I’m not a coward and certainly not a quitter, I thought you knew me better than that. You’re getting heavy though, I would love it if you-”

“That was mean.” I murmured.

All absorbed by his thoughts, Ron realized two seconds later I had spoken up and almost dropped me. 

“Y/N! Glad to hear your voice! You scared me to death earlier, I barely caught you before it was too late but I broke my broom. That’s why,” he stopped before letting go of me and wrapping an arm around my waist as I faltered, “we’re walking to Muriel’s. I think we’re almost there- here, isn’t it this awful tea room she loves?”

“You mean the one George almost set on fire when we were four? You’re right, it’s just here.”

_ _ _

Saying that Muriel wasn’t pleased with us being late would be a massive understatement. The portkey disappeared just before our eyes, meaning that we would have to take another broom, and it obviously wasn’t going to happen without us receiving “the lecture Molly and Arthur should have given to all of you when still in the crib”. If usually it was hard to listen to Muriel rambling about our lack of education, at the moment it was definitely the most infuriating thing I had ever experienced. It was getting more and more on my nerves, and I would have exploded if Ron hadn’t decided he had had enough. 

“Listen Aunt Muriel, we’ll finish this great conversation at the wedding okay? We have to go back home. Bye!” he added with a loud voice to cover Muriel’s protests. 

We got out and snuck into one of the neighbour’s garden to grab a broom. It was old and not very well maintained - which made Ron groan, how could someone with a Firebolt leave it in the garden all night long? - and eventually flew back home. 

I heard Ron mumbling something but the wind didn’t bring his voice to my ears, only vague sounds. I was behind him, tightening his waist as hard as I could as I didn’t trust my arms. They were shaking, as were my legs and pretty much all the rest of my body. I was trying to convince myself that it was because of my fall, but vicious images of Fred or George or anyone in my family being hurt kept creeping in my mind. It was a huge relief that the Burrow appeared in my sight, and as soon as our feet hit the ground, Ron let go of the broom to join Harry and Hermione, who were waiting in the garden, and I rushed to the door, oblivious to the voices calling for me. 

I had never actually felt my heart stopping beating. Sometimes, it was very close calls, like the day McGonagall had told us Ginny had disappeared in the Chamber of Secrets, but the second I registered the dried blood and the hole…

“George!”

My voice was high pitched, my sight blurry and my legs trembling, and I didn’t even hear what was said after my entrance. In a breath, I had crossed the living-room and I was now hugging George as tight as I could. My arms didn’t stop moving, trying to get a better hold on his body to make sure he wouldn’t leave and get himself in danger more than he had already. 

“George… Georgie you- you-”

“I’m okay Y/N, don’t worry. Don’t worry.” he added softly. 

I looked up, not even realizing I was crying. Once I was sure George wouldn’t magically disappear in the next seconds, I let go of him to engulf Fred in an equally tight hug. His arms wrapped strongly around me, and after a few seconds I grabbed George’s sleeve and pulled him toward us. 

I didn’t know if the living room had become silent or if I just wasn’t paying attention to anything that wasn’t Fred and George's breath. I could have stayed like that for years, making sure they were alive, they were okay and here with me, but they obviously decided otherwise. Fred pushed me gently backwards, and my eyes fell on him after having watched worriedly George’s weak movement to lie back on the couch. 

“Where the hell were you? What happened to Ron and you? Y/N, do you even have an idea on how worried we were?” 

“I- we were followed and- Ron, he saved my life. I was falling and-”

“Falling?” 

Fred’s horrified look only left his face when Ron finally entered the living-room, followed by Harry, Hermione and Bill and Fleur, who had just arrived. I jumped on my feet and rushed to Bill and Ron, hugging them both tightly before being pulled out of the embrace by Mum, and then it became a blur because of all the hugs that succeeded one another. 

Such sentimentalism was rare in our family, and it was in time like these that I regretted it the most. 

_ _ _ 

Everyone had gone to bed for a while. Fred and I were sitting on the floor next to the couch, keeping an eye on George who was sleeping soundly. His pain had only seemed to fade away when he had closed his eyes, and he had gotten two hours of sleep so far.

“You should sleep,” I murmured when Fred yawned extensively. 

“If you don’t sleep, I don’t sleep either.” 

“And I’m the stubborn one?”

Fred chuckled. 

“Guess that’s something we share.”

A moment of silence followed, the both of us watching George stirring weakly. 

“I couldn’t believe my eyes…” whispered Fred. “When I saw him I just- I didn’t even freak out, it was so much more than that. So much worse.”

“It felt like I just died on the spot.” I added on the same tone, my voice so low George probably wouldn’t have heard it if he had been awake. “I’ve never felt that before and I- I would give everything to never feel it again.”

“I’ve never seen Dad like that before. It scared me, Y/N. I thought ‘If Dad loses his calm like that- it’s not good, right?’”

Fred wiped a tear from his cheeks and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. 

“And then you weren’t coming back. For a second, I thought the both of you had left me and-”

“It’ll never happen Fred.” I interrupted him, my voice not really steadier than his. “Never. It’s the three of us, there’s no other way. Believe it or not, but you’re quite good to be around.”

“I’m flattered, Y/N.” Here it was, this smirk I liked to see, the one he, George and I used to have almost daily. “I could say the same for you, actually.”

“You know what? I think I’ll sleep. You should too, Freddie.”

“I will. Good night, insufferable little sister.”

“Barely little sister.” I mumbled before closing my eyes, comfortably snuggled against Fred, just next to George, in the warmth of our childhood home. 

Safe. 

[popculturebuffet]

Watchmen Issue by Issue: The Abyss Gazes Also (Patreon Review for WeirdKev27)

Content Warning: This review will contain mentions of extreme and graphic violence. While i’m going to not show it because I love you all, it is vital and necessary to the story I talk about some of it so if you have sensitivity towards that sort of thing or the deaths of children or dogs, please skip this one. 

Times up times here for the watchmen once again. I’m Jake, I review comics, film and animation and for this year i’m taking a monthly look at the watchmen courtsey of my patreon weirdkev27. And i’ts been an enlightning return as while I liked it as a teen having to really drink everything in has made me appricate it more the second time around.

That said while I had to wait till the end of the month for this one as it was the easiest to rework in my schedule when I hit some sliippage, I wasn’t that put off.  And it’s not due to quality: This issue is easily the best so far, the most iconic in the series with MANY of the most memorable moments of it comign from this, and one of the most intense and captivating issues i’ve ever read.... but it’s also bleak, gory as hell, and hard to stomach. This issue is a dive into Rorschach’s mind and just what turned Walter Kovacs into the obessive right wing murderous nightmare he is. And the results are well...

It’s a great issue but I was dead serious, as I always am, about the content warning. If you’ve read this one or at leats know rorshachs backstory, then you know why i’m like this this go round. And if you don’t.. well be prepared to gaze into the abyss because what stares back.. is a lot. 

The issue is, as you could probably guess, another character focus, but while it does focus on one of our leads in Rorshach.. it also focuses on his pyschatrist, dr. malcom long who wants to study our formerly fedora clad man of many creepy rants to help him. And to possibly get a book deal but unlike the sam hamm script after it, it DOES feel like Long geninely WANTS to help Rorshach and comes off as the only friendly face in the prison: the guards don’t seem to like him any more than the police, the prisoners naturally all want him dead and taunt him in his cell every night, Long is the only one genuinely WANTING to change him for the better instead of just see him as a bloody smear on the wall as quickly as possible. 

The problem is that Therapy requires the person to actually WANT to change on some level: to adress their problems and manage their mental illness. It’s what I hope to get some day and why I take medication. It helps. But while Rorshach IS clearly mentally ill on some level, and the story sadly does the classic dovetailing of mental illness with violence, he’s HAPPY as what he is. He’s vengance in an unjust world and he dosne’t WANT to change or come back from the edge. He won’t compromise.. even in the face of armageddon.. so Long was doomed from the moment he sat down. 

The issue is framed by the twos sessions and Rorshachs flashbacks as we learn WHY he ended up like this and that he’s suprisngly tragic. I still don’t LIKE him as a person.. but I do feel sorry for him. While again the story mistkaes mental illness for violence, to moores credit he also shows Rorshach didn’t get this way out of nowhere: a society unwilling to get him help, a mother who actively hated him, and a traumtic incident to end all incidents got him there. Just because he’s an asshole at the end dosen’t make it any less tragic the world failed him so badly. That a man who ended up despite all this becoming a hero.. wound up as only marginally better than the monsters he fights. 

So we see that path during the first sessoin even if Long, sadly dosen’t get that insight to actually help his patient: we get our first really iconic bit as Kovacs says a bunch of nice stuff.. while imagining a dog with it’s head split open. 

You were warned and it ONLY gets worse. IT’s why i’m also, as you could probablyu noticed not mocking rorshach as usual: it’s just.. not an issue for that. 

Our first flashback shows him walking in on his mom .. who was a prostitut, had sex in the home and abuses her son when the john leaves because he walked in.  Yeah this work.. dosen’t have the best views on sex work, and I wince at the sterotype of prostitues who are moms doing all their work in the home. It paints them as stupid and neglegent and all sex workers who happen to have kids as  badly needing the money> Which does happen.. but geninely just because you work in sex dosen’t mean your a bad parent. Anyone in any line of work can be a bad parent. The only things I can give moore is it likely wasn’t intentional, and that it does answer why Kovacs is such a dick towards said sex workers: he had a terrible experince himself. It dosen’t remotely justify it, but it adds depth to his actions instead of just bein ga right wing ass

His next flashback during the same section is of some kids bullying him.. till he snapped and just started snarling into one like a beast, a sign of who he’ dbecome.. and what was lurking underneath. The rage, the pain, and the lashing out at a society he correctly sees dosen’t care about him. 

Dr. Long works on the case at home, and we get updates on what happened next: the incident caused Kovacs home to be investigated.. and thus him to be taken away and him to do FAR better. He got good grades in school and seemed fine.. though his reaction to his mom’s death, good indicated he hadn’t forgotten nor forgiven how she treated him. 

So at the next session Long admits he got that Roshach wasn’t engaging and asks him too.. and Ror admits he dosen’t LIKE dr. long, feeling a rich man can’t understand what he went through, but agreeing to actually talk to him about Rorshach. It shows the tragedy as well as why Rorshach remains unlikeable: He was through a lot... but he also refuses to empathize, to see that Dr. Long is TRYIGN to help walter and isn’t being condescending or anything. He gets he had a hard life and treis to understand it. The work isn’t working because Long is fat or wealthy, it’s not working because Rorshach dosen’t want it to and woudl prefer to break a geninely kind, decent man wanting to help him.. than actually GET help. 

So we get the story: after leaving the orphanage at 16 Kovacs worked in garmets, not minding except having to work with women’s clothing. It’s there he found the mask and we find out why it shifts, something I hadn’t even noticed till now: it’s a special fabric made my mahattan. the client abandoned the dress so walter took it home and played with it, as frankly I would in that situation then forgot about it, again as I would. It wasn’t till two years later when he heard about  the woman who ordered it’s rape and murder that something change. He heard how her forty neighbors, all above.. did nothing. Some even WATCHED. 

So Kovacs made a face he could look at in the mirror..and Rorshach was born.. but as Kovacs says not really.. it was still walter in the mask. not the Rorshach he BECAME. Kovacs also points out there are more severe cases than his but the doctor isn’t visiting THEM... and makes a valid point there. I do like that: while I do think Dr. Long is a good man he’s not infaliable, as seen right after when he assumes the kitty genovese incident was just an excuse to do this.. when what caused Walter to become Rorshach was much deeper.. and that Rorshach did beocme a hero for good reason. To protect those who couldnlt

Long then recounts an incdient after that.. and we get one of the most iconic scenes in the comic as an inmate tries to intemdiate rorshach.. and soon wins his darwin award as rorshach flings a hot tray of food at him burning the man. And as he’s carried away he says the line bart..

“I’m not locked in here with you.. your locked in here with me”... Long is starting to realize how wrong he was, Kovacs isn’t getting better.. and Long is getting worse, neglecting his wife for the case.. or as he muses

Ror procedes to prove how far gone he is claming Kovacs was soft for having friend sfor having mercy.. for in short being a good hero, venting his resntment at everyone quitting and again adding a layer to his respect for the comedian: while he was still an ass about the sexual assault and always will be, we see he saw a kindred spirit: someone who didn’t give up and who saw the world was fucked up and kept up the work anyway. Granted he dosen’t seee that the work was jut an outlet for the comedian to kill and abuse people, so again, asshole, but it does make it more than just being right wing that makes rorshach respect him and shows WHY he dove so hard into this: i’ts not just the conspiracy.. it’s a person he admired and kept him going dying and him wanting to know WHY. 

He ends it by saying “We are compelled” and Malcomn Long.. wonders why. He’s also unnerved to find out the newstand he goes to is the same one Roshach went to.. it’ trivial but I’d be spooked too. Still Malcom’s wife has a party planned with some couple friends to try and smooth things over, and things seem better... so yeah.. about that..

See.. now we get what caused Walter to become Rorshach.. the Rorshach we know. And find out about the dog with it’s head split open. This.... is what haunted me and kept me away a bit. The stuff with him slowly breaking malcom dosen’t help.. but this.. it chills my bones. It utterly unsettles me and i’mnot the hardest mark for horror: horror stuff can shock me. But this.. may be one of the most intense and unsettling things and we hardly see anything... and that just makes it worse

So Walter was investigating a kidnapping, a chlid was taken for ransom on a stupid mistake as her father wasn’t rich like they thought and taking it personally for reasons you can probably guess, Walter looked for her. And while he foudn where she was clearly kept, he also found butchers tools, a childs clothes in the incenerator... and the worst thing the attack dogs the guy had.. feasting on human bones. I.. I can’t even use a reaction image for this it’s so fucking disturbing. And Moore to his brilliance.. dosen’t show any excess gore or anything dosen’t show the child being devoured. All it takes is the implications and the sights of the dogs fighting over the remains..a nd that.. that is enough.  It’s enough to leave me barely able to write the rest of this and it’s enough to kill walter kovacs. Rorshach then picks up the cleaver.. and well .. you know what happens next. 

So we get a naturally brutal death for the monster, as he first THROWS THE DOG CORPSES AT HIM, which as a dog lover all this dog stuff.. jesus christ it’s a lot, then chains him to the furnance, gives him a saw and jigsaw style tells him “won’t get through chain in time’ ... giving him an obvious implication.. and then lighting the place up. 

And from that Rorshach took his philosphy: there is no meaning, no purpose, no greater design.. only what we make. No one shaped it.. it’s us.. just us. 

Naturally he ruins the dinner party talking about the incident, and his wife runs out on him like n ass instead of seeing you know, he’s heavily fucking traumatized... and he ends the issue starring into the abyss.. but finding nothing. There is nothing left for Dr. Long.. or anyone

This issue is a masterpiece.. but as you might of guessed it is a lot. It made me respect Rorshach as a character a lot more, see far more complexity and thankfully Dr. Long’s story isn’t over just yet. Though thankfully this part of it is. Thank god. This issue is brilant, intrancing.. but fuck is it a lot. It’s probably Moore’s best work.. but it’s also easily darkest. So be careful when you hit this chapter.. nad be good to each other. Because yes, maybe something didn’t shape this, I belivie something did though I have no idea what. Beleivie what you belivie as long as it dosen’t hurt others. But even if it didn’t.. even if all we hav eis the meaning we make.. there’s no reason to not be good to each other. There’s no reason to not help one another and there’s no reaoon to not care about what we do have, what meaning we have made. Rorshach wasn’t wrong people can be terribhle and sometimes violence is just there... but they can also be good.. and despite everything, especially in the past week.. i have to belieive there’ shope and that we can make this world better again and that a select few can’t ruin it no matter how hard they try. Thank you for reading. 

[magnumdays]

Are they doing the secret romance thing + Higgy figuring feels out just as it is revealed thing? :O *Spoiler-y?*

4.01 - Island Vibes - Fri Oct 01

As Magnum tries to keep his new relationship a secret and handles cases solo while Higgins is away, he is tasked with finding a single mom being hunted by two very dangerous gangs. Also, while Higgins is abroad with Ethan, a misstep forces her to assist an old employer, and Rick gets some bad, but also very, very good news.

Thoughts: Well, we’re going to establish trouble in paradise for Ethan and Higgy, Lia and Magnum, Susie is leaving but is she and Rick gonna do the long distance thing?

Higgy will be wearing all black leather at some point. We are excited.

(From the sneak peek I think I might like Lia. She seems cool and smart!)

4.02 - The Harder they Fall - Fri Oct 08

While Magnum and Higgins reunite and work the case of a construction worker's tragic death, TC and Shammy get skyjacked by a pair of drug runners posing as tourists.

Thoughts: So from this we kind of get the fact that 4.01 will probably not have too much of Higgins having returned? Right? This is their first ‘real case’ and not just joint take down, I’m assuming?

Lia is still a secret here I would guess? I hope we get some partners friction as they get used to working together again here but it ends with a fluffy feel good Miggy moment. 

Is Shammy taking TC up on his becoming a pilot thing then? :-)

4.03 - Texas Wedge - Fri Oct 15

Magnum, Higgins and Rick go undercover at a ritzy country club when a young caddie is fired after being accused of stealing a member's golf clubs. Also, Jin's niece, unaware of her uncle's shady past, asks him to speak at her school.

Thoughts: Jin is back. That’s always a good time. We got the undercover episode...can’t wait for Higgy in her little golf outfit! And the hat! Undercover is always fun and I’m excited to see what they do with this one!

Maybe this episode will not feature very much Lia or Gordy? I guess we could have some sort of Lia secret here. I don’t know how long they can push her being secret from people if she’s in a lot of the episodes, but maybe I’m just not imaginative enough...

We know there is trouble with Ethan, I’m assuming that’s going to be brewing in 4.01-3 to the point in 4.04 where therapy is required. 

I would really love for some sort of moment here where our two faves play happy married. Or if they want to torture us, having it be Rick and Juliet being undercover couple and Magnum being annoyed by it...

4.04 - Those We Leave Behind Friday -Oct. 22

Higgins’ therapist hires her to look into why one of her teenage patients died of suicide, on the CBS original series MAGNUM P.I..

AKA

Thoughts: SO WE’RE ACTUALLY TALKING ABOUT FEELINGS HIGGY!?!?!? THIS IS NEW!

How I imagine it going...

___

Shrink: So that’s Ethan done... now tell me about your partner? You guys have never dated or been more than friends?

Higgy: No but there was this one time when we were going to get married for a Green card. And this other time he traded himself for me when I was kidnapped. And he just generally is always there for me and we talk about everything and workout our problems together and he wants me to be happy.But really he’s such a good guy he’d do that for anyone.  I mean we DO bicker all the time but we really love each other to death. But you know in a very platonic way...

Shrink: Yeah. Course... you don’t think there is anything more to it?

Higgy: No. I mean we do occasionally look soulfully into each others eyes, but don’t everyone do that with their best friend?

Shrink: No...But let’s move on, I actually need help with something. Well come back to you later...

___

Back when I first heard we were getting Lia, I though; one way they could make this season angsty was having Higgy figure her feels out and tell them to like Kumu and then WHAM, two seconds later we get a Lia/Magnum dating reveal. (Like a MacXRiley sort of deal...only do it right.)

But a shrink helping her figure it out (if even just a little...) that would make more sense. Because Juliet wouldn’t just talk to Kumu or anyone about feelings without a damned good reason. And therapy + Higgy = hilarious. Or depressing more like it, if it takes us down the route I’m worried about...

Because imagine what whammy to end things with in 4.04. 

Juliet figuring herself out, breaking up with Ethan on the phone and then calling Magnum - only we see his abandoned phone ringing - while he’s getting it on with Lia. 

(Or because TV is all about traumatizing characters, Higgins walking in on them...)

I mean, that’s the drama TV producers live for right? Plus right before we get a few weeks of hiatus (which we might get over Halloween + maybe a week in November?) would be the perfect time for it.

Then we’d be done with Ethan. We’d have Higgy feels out in the open (to us the viewers at least). The fact that A) Magnum is dating someone B) he lied about it to Higgy and everyone C) she’s actually Gordon’s partner... is just a treasure trove of drama waiting to be opened. Just saying...

But for now, let’s just enjoy the countdown for tonight and hope this (sure to be excellent) moment of Higgins in a leather jacket and Magnum looking extra fine (if somewhat confused!) is all I’ve imagined it to be...

[theasstour]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟑.𝟒𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

A/N: Thank you to the lovelies who nominated Strange Tides, Baby Blue, and moi for the 1D Craft Awards 🌊🐚 If you have the time and feel like spreading some love, go vote for your fave fics and authors here ✨ ENJOYYY CHAPTER 5! x

Tuesday, 7 July

“I’d say you’re doing quite alright for someone who has just gotten into knitting,” Bessie said, looking at Y/N’s creation over the rim of her glasses. “What technique did your mother teach you again, sweets? ‘Cause you’re a natural.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Y/N answered honestly, taking her blue square back. “Are there different types of knitting styles?”

Bessie’s laugh was warm and joyous, looking out at Camila, Florence, and Barb, who smiled at Y/N. Though Y/N had been scared of being judged by these women for not knowing how to properly knit at first, there was nothing but kindness and appreciation in their eyes. It seemed they really were just happy to see the beginning of Y/N’s knitting journey. They had all been beyond helpful, taking their time and being patient with her as she learned the ins and outs of knitting. She was still not sure what she was making, but she was knitting a bunch of squares to start off, and she would see where to go from there.

“So,” Florence said, turning her attention back on the knitting in front of her. “What do you think of St Ives thus far, Y/N? Is it living up to your expectations?”

“You’ve been here a month now,” Bessie said, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite believe it. And Y/N couldn’t believe it herself. Time had flown by so incredibly fast it did not seem quite real. It seemed like only yesterday she had checked in here and met Bessie, or when she ran into Harry and started their little thing. It just did not seem real that time had gone by this fast. In a month’s time, summer would almost be over and she would have to start thinking about checking out and finding out what to do next. Going back home to Winchester was out of the question, but she didn’t really have anywhere else to go.

Y/N took a deep breath, telling herself not to think about that now. Debating what to do after she checked out of The Roaming Crab Inn could be done at another time, not while she was knitting with four lovely ladies. For someone who had lived her whole life with a plan laid out for her near and far future, Y/N was awfully relaxed about the prospect of the chapter of her life that would start once she left St Ives in August.

“I love it here,” she answered truthfully, finding some red yarn so she could start knitting a red square. “I’ve met so many people while staying here, it’s been amazing.”

“It’s been fun to meet Harry’s family as well,” Barb said. “If your name comes up in conversation when we’re at the chess club, Jessa won’t shut up. She’s so proud Harry’s dating such a lovely lady.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, both because she took pride in that compliment but also because she knew Jessa wouldn’t think of her like that when she and Harry “broke up” later.

“Speaking of people you’ve met, my son tells me you went to the pub with him, Harry, and their little group.” Florence looked at Y/N, smiling. “Did he invite you to his birthday this Saturday?”

“Yeah, Harry told me we were invited,” Y/N said.

“Dax and Harry have been close ever since Harry came to St Ives. He even slept at the lighthouse for close to a month after Harry’s father got lost at sea.”

Y/N stopped knitting. When she looked over at Florence again, the older woman was already knitting so she didn’t notice Y/N’s sudden interest. She looked over at Bessie who only gave Y/N a nod as to confirm what Florence had just said, and in that second Y/N was very happy Bessie knew her and Harry’s relationship was only pretend.

“The day they found the empty boat was absolutely horrible. All of St Ives in mourning. Remember it like it was yesterday,” Camila went on, sighing dramatically. “Devastating time.”

“Let’s not talk about that,” Bessie chimed in. “It is such a sad time to reminisce about.”

“Yes, no reason we should think about such things,” Barb went on. “I’m sure it’s a touchy subject for Y/N as well, seeing as Harry is so close to her.”

Y/N focused entirely on her knitting, not really wanting to say anything in regards to Harry’s dad. She knew he died, but she hadn’t really questioned how that happened. For some reason, Y/N had assumed he had been sick, but knowing something happened to Harry’s dad while he was at sea… she didn’t know how to feel. Was it worse to have a loved one be sick and know the end was inevitable and close, or to have them ripped suddenly and unexpectedly out of your life?

“I’m sorry for bringing the mood down, girls,” Florence said, letting a bright laugh escape her lips. “Maybe we need some tea to brighten up our mood some?”

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Bessie said, getting up from her seat. “Y/N, dear, would you give me a helping hand?”

“Of course.”

Y/N got up and followed Bessie inside to the kitchen, the three others chattering away as the two started making a new batch black tea. Bessie busied herself with finding some mugs, her sugar, and milk, as Y/N just stood beside the kettle and waited for it to finish boiling. With her arms crossed, her mind wandered off to all those times Harry mentioned his dad and his death, not once had he mentioned he was sick, so Y/N didn’t know where she had gotten that idea from. She knew it was not something she should be speculating or thinking about, but right then, she could not help herself.

Instead of thinking about something so tragic, she forced herself to think about Dax’s birthday party the coming weekend. Harry had only mentioned it in passing yesterday, but Y/N was already looking forward to it. There wasn’t much else she did now anyway besides knit, read for the UCAT, and lie about being in a relationship. Throwing some partying into that mix seemed like a bit of fun.

Saturday, 11 July

“I’m about to do it,” Y/N said, eyes on her laptop screen in front of her. Her white summer dress blew a little in the wind from the open window beside her, but the breeze was welcomed, as it always was in Cornwall.

Harry looked up from where he was going through some bills on his couch, wearing his red knitted jumper along with a pair of short dungaree shorts. Y/N was sat on the other side of his tiny house in the windowsill beside his bed. It was big enough to fit her, her books, and laptop, it was kind of her spot now.

“I’m really about to do it,” Y/N repeated, more for her own sake than for Harry’s - who was a little confused and sat with his mouth open, waiting for her to elaborate – because she simply could not believe she was doing this.

“What?” Harry asked after a while, and when Y/N met his eyes, he blinked a few times as if readying himself for whatever she was about to say.

“Apply for the UCAT exam.”

Last week, Y/N had taken Harry up on his offer to study for her UCAT exam at his place. She came over Friday, and upon seeing her walking up to his house around 8:30, Harry walked toward her on the gravel path. She didn’t know why, but she liked that he did that instead of just standing stoic and just watching her. It made her almost feel urgently desired at his house when he did that.

“Hi,” Y/N greeted as they fell into step beside one another. “Report time?”

“Yeah, just walking around and checking everything.”

She smiled. “And so you walked over here to check on me?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

Y/N wanted to laugh, but Harry was looking at the gravel in front of him, lips sucked into his mouth as if telling himself to shut up. He walked her all the way into his house, telling her to make herself feel at home. She sat down by the round table and placed her books out before her, sighing a little to herself as she opened the first one to the page she’d left off on last time. Before going about his day of lightkeeper chores, he made her a cup of tea and told her to help herself to anything in the fridge. He left in a hurry to report, and Y/N didn’t see much of him till two hours later, when he came inside to look through some paperwork.

The rest of the week, she’d popped by almost every single day and then stayed for hours on end. Though she’d mostly been studying, she had also stayed a little longer just to hang out with Harry. She felt safe on Clodgy Point, with Harry, who, once she got him talking about something he found interesting, would talk someone’s ear off. It was so nice to hang out with someone her own age. Someone who would curse and who didn’t need to gossip all the time. There was something so relaxing about Harry’s presence and his little bungalow that attracted Y/N. She simply could not study in her own room anymore, and Harry didn’t seem to mind. He’d meet her on the gravel path and walk her to his house before he went off to report, every single day without fail. She always looked forward to seeing him there, a sight that made the moors around her seem less turbulent and the world a little more colourful.

Though she sat by the door the first two days, she ended up in the windowsill after a while. When Harry caught her there, he asked if her bum wouldn’t get numb from sitting there all day, to which Y/N jokingly said not to worry, she could just bring a cushion next time, though she always forgot. She didn’t mind though; she liked that windowsill so much that her sore arse didn’t bother her. It also seemed Harry liked that his windowsill was being used, because at one point, he brought his Super 8 camera out, taping her doing her work in the windowsill.

On Monday, something happened that took Y/N’s breath away. Harry walked into the house, zipping his mouth shut when their eyes met as if to tell her he didn’t intend on interrupting her. He made himself something to eat for lunch and sat by the round kitchen table, minding his own business and looking out of the window beside him every now and again for some sort of entertainment. Once he was done eating, he washed his plate up and then, instead of walking back out to work, he walked over to his piano. Y/N immediately sat up a bit straighter, resting her hands on her bent knee as she watched Harry open the piano chair, pull a notebook out, and then sit down once he closed it.

Harry’s hands hovered over the keys before he slowly started pressing down on them, producing the softest melody Y/N thought she might have ever heard. He moved along with the piece, feeling the rhythmic waves take over his body and guide him through the history that melody held. It was clear Harry had some sort of attachment to that piece. Y/N didn’t know how carefully musicians played, how much attention and care they gave to each of the pieces they performed, but there was something graceful and almost intimate about watching Harry perform that piece. Y/N simply could not put her finger on it, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Once he was done playing that specific melody, about to start the next one, Y/N opened her mouth, “What’s that piece called?”

Harry looked at her over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows some as if he hadn’t heard her right.

“Is it well-known?”

“No, uhm…” He furrowed his brows some, looking at the dresser stood beside the piano where a few photos were placed. “I wrote it myself?”

“You did?”

“Yeah, it’s a few years old.”

Y/N couldn’t help her smile. “Does the piece have a title?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Saving Grace,” he explained. “It’s got a dual meaning.”

“Which is?”

“Well, I was 20 when Grace was born. Until then I hadn’t really been around babies, so it took some getting used to when Grace was around most of the time. It had only been my dad and me for a long time, then Jessa came into our lives, which ultimately brought Gracie.” Harry looked out the window Y/N sat in. “It had been a very… content life till then. Nothing spectacular, Dad and I really did love each other and were best friends since before Mum left us when I was 6. But…” He trailed off. “But then came Jessa and Grace, and they truly changed all that. They made us so happy.”

A warmness that was not due to the hot temperature outside, made its way like a wave down Y/N’s body.

“Grace became my little person, you know? Though I worked at St Ives Bakery and had friends, I still didn’t know what I wanted to really do with my life. I was about to apply to study music at uni, but… I dunno, I just didn’t. Grace became my purpose for a little while. I earned money so I could take her places and buy her ice cream, or I taught her how to walk, talk, and we did everything together.” Harry turned back to the piano, playing the first few notes slowly. “This melody came to me when I watched her walk without trouble around the moors outside, she was looking at flowers and she was so happy. The melody tries to capture that moment and how perfect that day was.” He stopped, glancing at the sheet in front of him. “She was two years old.”

“So, essentially, you try to capture feelings and moments in your music?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any other pieces?”

Harry chuckled, looking over his shoulder at her. “You know, the reason I started playing was to help you concentrate. Piano music is great for that.”

“Sod my work, I want to know more about your music.”

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed, turning his body in her direction now. “I’ve never heard you say that word before! Never heard you speak like that!”

Y/N laughed, but persuaded Harry to play a few of his other pieces before he went back to work.

That Saturday when Y/N brought up the exam, Harry hadn’t played any piano. He sometimes would, both to calm himself down, but also to help Y/N concentrate. She would sometimes take breaks just to listen to him, but his playing really did help her focus. Harry was doing some of his work in the house that Saturday, probably to keep her company, but she was very happy he was there. She needed someone to talk this through with.

There was an instant pull to the edges of Harry’s lips, something that he didn’t have to think about, it was instinctive and genuine. A slight breath left his mouth, almost like something of a chuckle, a relief of sorts that made her all hot. He smiled and got up from the couch, a reason for his movements as if he moved a little easier now that he’d just heard that.

“Are you really?” he asked, taking his tea mug and nodding at Y/N’s beside her. She picked it up and handed it to him.

“I mean, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, and I feel like it’s stupid to study for an exam if I’m never going to take it.”

“That makes sense, yeah.”

“So, I’m just gonna do it now.”

Harry put their mugs down, filling up the kettle before making another round. Y/N liked that he just assumed she wanted another cuppa. She liked the fact he made her this hot beverage that took a long time for someone to drink up. That he made her several a day. She really liked that.

“I’m thinking, you’ve been reading for weeks and you clearly know the material, you might as well,” Harry said.

“There’s just… I dunno…”

“What?”

“No.”

Harry was quiet, so when Y/N looked at him, he was already looking at her, waiting for her to continue. Both knew she wouldn’t hold back once she’d already started saying something.

“I’m scared I won’t show up.”

Harry frowned. “Why? That something is gonna come up?”

“No, that I’ll just oversleep on purpose or find any possible solution so I won’t have to go. Maybe my brain will refuse to revise the entire week before it, I tended to do that in school. When I have an opportunity to, I make things hard for myself.”

Harry plopped two sugars into her cuppa. “I won’t let that happen.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “How, you’re gonna carry me out of my room and to your van, then drive me to the exam?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

She laughed, looking back at the laptop in front of her as Harry walked over, putting the tea down beside her.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I think you should just do it.”

“I know I should, but… once I sign up, it’s all happening. It’s not just something I’m thinking about doing, it’s actually happening and there’s a date I gotta work toward.” She sighed. “It’s not just a dream anymore.”

“It stopped being ‘just a dream’ the second you bought those books,” Harry said, sipping his tea as Y/N looked up at him where he stood beside her. “When you started reading, you knew what you were doing and yet you did it anyway.”

She studied him for a second, meeting his eyes the second before she turned back to the laptop. “Guess you’re right.”

“I’m right.”

She flung her arm out, hitting him just across his knee. “Cocky.”

“No,” Harry giggled. “I’m correct. You should try being it sometime.”

“Tone it down!”

Harry laughed, walking back over to his paperwork again. He sat working for a bit longer, finishing his tea before he put everything back in the folder and walked back out of the house and to the lighthouse. When the front door slammed shut, it was like Y/N was slapped out of a sort of trance. She had just been looking at the UCAT website, mouse hovering over the ‘Register and Book’ button, mind somewhere else completely. She remembered what Harry said, how registering and taking this exam wouldn’t make this dream of hers reality all of a sudden, she had done that herself when she started deliberately revising for the UCAT.

She clicked the button and made herself a new user on the website. Reading through everything carefully, Y/N felt her heart picking up speed. It was dawning on her that she was really doing this, despite everything, she was finally registering to take the test. The next few minutes as she took all of this in, she completely forgot where she was. All she knew was the information being fed to her. The wind, the sun, the fly flying around her head, nor whatever Harry was doing was any of her concern. She focused entirely on registering and booking a date. A fee of £75 had to be paid, and though Y/N would never have thought about paying that kind of money before, she hesitated now.

She didn’t have a job, her parents weren’t providing for her anymore because… well, she wasn’t talking to them, so she only had the money on her one card left. Though she was sure she could afford the test fee, there would come a time when she couldn’t. Money had never been a problem until now. This hadn’t been something she thought about before, it hadn’t been a problem then because her parents were filthy rich, but she recognised this now. However, this test had been on her mind for years and it was something she really wanted to do, so spending money on it wasn’t something she needed to feel guilty about. Y/N paid the fee and sat there staring at her screen as a ‘Thanks for your booking’ popped up on her screen. Her test was September 10th. That was in two months. In two months she would be taking the UCAT.

She got up from the windowsill, shaking her clammy hands to dry them some, a shaky breath leaving her parted lips as her heart galloped inside her chest. It didn’t feel real. None of it felt real. She was doing the UCAT exam. This was her first big step into dentistry. She was actually doing what she had been dreaming of doing for years now.

She had no idea what made her do it but she walked out of the house, instinctively walking towards the lighthouse. Harry was already halfway to the cottage from the lighthouse, halting a little at Y/N’s abrupt exit. She stopped when she saw him.

“I did it.”

Those three words took a few seconds for Harry to comprehend, but when he did, he gave her the biggest grin she’d ever seen on his face. His eyes completely disappeared behind his cheekbones, crinkles appearing beside them, and his crooked smile was accompanied with his brilliant dimples that breathed light and meaning into every situation they were present in. The sight of it made her own appear and she put a hand over her chest, feeling her heart still going hard against her ribcage. Harry must have not thought a lot of it, because he nearly opened his arms, but they quickly fell to his side. Next, he went to give her a high five, but that almost seemed inappropriate because it was such a huge moment to Y/N.

But Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about the way Harry had opened his arms for her just now. Couldn’t stop thinking about how he wanted her close like that to congratulate her on what she’d just done. And, the part of her that hadn’t really experienced someone’s noticeable pride in her like this before, wouldn’t mind at all. That’s why she ran towards him, and the two seconds Harry had to prepare, Y/N both saw the visible shock at her sprinting for him, but also a sort of jubilation like it was an honour. Y/N threw her arms around him and Harry quickly wrapped her in his, a breath of relief skimming her neck and making goosebumps run through her entire body. She laughed as Harry picked her off the ground, groaning in triumph at the news of her finally having signed up for the UCAT.

She leaned her head against his, smelling that same perfume on him that she remembered smelling when she wore his knitted jumper a few weeks ago. Her theory had also been right: Harry was an amazing hugger. His grip was tight and she was sure he closed his eyes, really immersing himself completely in the person he was embracing. Fingers spread out across her back, the tips of one just touching her shoulder blade and the other on her waist, squeezing her slightly for a few seconds before letting her down again.

“That’s amazing, Y/N,” Harry said, and Y/N tightened her grip.

When they finally let go of one another, Harry ran inside and came back some seconds later holding his camera, said he needed to document this. Y/N did a few poses that made Harry laugh, then proceeding to run out into the field beyond the lighthouse. She felt absolutely ecstatic as she ran around, grinning and jumping, her arms held up high and her heart soaring. After all this time, she was finally pursuing this. If she was able to do something that terrified and excited her like this, then what else could she do? Part of her felt like she could do anything now.

Porthgwidden Beach was like Harry described it: small. Once Harry and Y/N arrived at the tiny car park above the beach, Y/N stopped for a moment to take in the beach that wasn’t even a fraction of what the other two major beaches of St Ives were. Some Tiësto song was playing somewhere and the beach was crowded, all guests of Dax’s birthday party. The Porthgwidden Beach Café seemed to have been booked for the occasion as well, people around their age all sitting grouped around the table with their bottles and cups. No one seemed to be going crazy on their alcohol, which reassured Y/N some because it had been a while since she had been drunk, a glass or two of anything would make her very lightheaded and giggly. She had brought with her a bottle of wine in her tote bag, Harry seemed to be relying on his mates having brought drinks. If not, Y/N wouldn’t mind sharing the rest of hers with him.

Y/N had left Harry’s place not long after she signed up for the UCAT so she could get ready for Dax’s birthday party in her own room. She wore a dark green column midi skirt along with a white tee shirt and some short heels that she regretted wearing the second her and Harry stepped out into the sand. He looked over his shoulder at her once he noticed her struggling a bit, offering his hand for her to hold so she could take her heels off. While she did that, she took the liberty to study him again. His outfit was simple, yet effortlessly hot. High waisted mid wash denim jeans, a baggy black tee shirt tucked into them, along with some white socks and black Converse. Y/N had a theory Harry would end up taking his own shoes off by the end of the night too.

The two had met on Island Street where they knew none of the other partygoers would venture. That way, people would’ve seen them walk together all the way to the party, assuming they must’ve spent time at Harry’s place before coming here. They had discussed this plan over a last cuppa tea before Y/N left earlier that day, Harry had seemed very happy with himself for coming up with that one. And as they stood there, Y/N holding his hand while taking her shoes off, they heard some loud whistles followed by a “There they are!”

Looking over, they saw the birthday boy making his way over, arms spread wide and the biggest grin on his face. “My boyo!”

“Dax, not now-“

But the man didn’t listen. He hugged Harry to him, causing Harry to take a few steps, resulting in Y/N losing her balance. With a squeal, Y/N almost fell face first into the sand again, but Harry was fast to bring one hand under her armpit and the other to her hip. He dragged her toward him, her torso flat against his. She saw Harry’s eyes on her face in her peripheral vision, felt his breath on her cheek.

“Oi!” Dax laughed. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Got a bit carried away seeing this hunk.” Dax put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, causing Harry to jump right out of his trance and let go of Y/N, as if couples didn’t normally embrace each other like this without hesitation.

“Happy birthday, Dax,” Y/N smiled before picking up her shoe, shoving the pair into her tote bag along with her cardigan and Harry’s red knitted jumper.

“Happy birthday, mate,” Harry said.

“You know, I expected you to be the first one here.” Dax crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at Harry.

Harry furrowed his brows at Dax. “What do you mean?”

“Well, isn’t your best friend’s birthday important to you?”

Harry was quiet for a second. “Oh, my word, Dax.”

“I’m just a joke to you.”

“You sure are.”

“Look who it is!” Ellie called, grinning as her and the rest of Harry’s little gang made their way over. “You made it!”

“We were starting to think you two wouldn’t come,” Amir said, his hair in the most effortlessly pretty bun at the top of his head. “Too busy?” Amir wiggled his eyebrows.

“You’re too caught up in people’s sex lives for it to be normal, mate,” Harry said, taking the cup Fatima offered him. “Cheers.”

Something about Harry referring to him and Y/N’s sex life made Y/N’s cheeks feel awfully hot. Even though their joined sex life was non-existent, it still got to her. Maybe it was the way Harry always dodged those questions so the two wouldn’t have to answer any awkward queries they had absolutely no idea about. She didn’t know, but she rummaged through her bag so people wouldn’t see how flustered she suddenly got.

“Just trying to make conversation,” Amir said.

“Well, don’t,” Jo chimed in, their smile mocking and Amir only huffed in response.

“By the way!” Dax exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re going Terraland next week, you coming this year, Y/N?”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in question. “What’s Terraland?”

“Theme park in Helston, we go every year towards the end of the summer vacation,” Jo explained. “Harry here-“ They gestured at the man standing beside Y/N. “-Doesn’t like Terraland.”

“I do,” Harry protested. “I like laying by the pool and not doing shit. I don’t particularly like it when you force me on rollercoasters.”

Y/N smiled. “I’ll come if Harry decides to.”

“Brill! All of us are coming, maybe a few others,” Amir said.

“So, it’s like an adventure park with rollercoasters and such?” Y/N asked

“That and pools, very much the kind of thing you visit when you’re on vacation in, like, Spain,” Harry explained. “But it’s in Cornwall.”

“Good for a group of grown up kids, ey?” Dax grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Come, Y/N, babe.” Ellie linked her arm with Y/N’s, taking Y/N off guard, but she didn’t stop Ellie. She looked at their arms and smiled a little. “Let’s get you a cup so we can get this party started.”

“Love your skirt, by the way,” Fatima smiled as they reached a table with tons of cups and napkins.

“Ahh, thank you. Haven’t worn it in a while, so I felt it was fitting to do so today.” Y/N glanced down at her skirt, running her hand over it before reaching for a cup.

“Ellie and I were saying the other day that you’ve got such a sophisticated sense of style, you need to take us shopping.”

“Could use a few pointers,” Ellie agreed, watching Y/N as she poured herself a glass of wine.

“Really?” Y/N screwed the cork shut before putting the bottle away, smiling at the two girls. “I mean, it’s not that good-“

“-Out of respect for what Harry said, I will stop you before you discredit yourself,” Ellie smiled back.

Y/N laughed. “What about respect for me? Respect me wanting to discredit myself for having a mediocre clothing style.”

Both Fatima and Ellie joined in on the laughing and the three girls walked away from the table so they could hang out by themselves. Though St Ives had around 11,000 inhabitants, Y/N was sure a lot of the guests weren’t locals. Maybe friends from University or friends-of-friends, everything to get a good party going. Judging by what Fatima and Ellie told Y/N, this was an annual thing. Dax Rose held a massive birthday party and absolutely everyone was invited. Bring your own alcohol, bring a friend, and bring a smile, and you were welcomed with open arms. People were sitting in the sand or by the café, others were just standing around, some were dancing, and a group was also taking a swim and joking around in the water. Y/N genuinely liked the atmosphere; it was just really freeing and nice. People wore whatever they wanted, laughter could be heard everywhere, and it just seemed like everyone wanted to have a good time.

Though anyone could come join the party – something that made her look around her a few too many times -, there were still enough people there to notice something suspicious going on.

Fatima, Ellie, and Y/N stood just talking for a while. It was really nice to talk to some girls her own age again, she couldn’t remember the last time she had done that. She had some good friends at school but once they had gone off to University or moved away from Winchester, she fell out of touch with most of them. Y/N knew it wasn’t personal, she quite liked the fact her friends had acquired new lives for themselves, being happier and more fulfilled. But she had missed just standing around chatting nonsense. The conversation didn’t hold much significance, there wasn’t much crucial information going around, or any sort of seriousness attached to it, just some mates having a chat. Y/N found herself wondering if Fatima and Ellie would come if she asked them out for lunch one day.

“I saw this documentary the other day, it’s on iPlayer,” Ellie said. “It was super interesting and disturbing.”

“Oh?” Y/N said, tipsy at this point and just holding the cup of wine in her hand, not wanting to drink more in case it would make her dizzy and very giggly.

“Yeah, it was basically about all these people who committed gruesome murders in the UK, and who go free now.”

Y/N looked up from her cup with wide eyes and at Ellie as Fatima gasped.

“Yeah, I can’t remember what it was called…” As Ellie started thinking, a shadow appeared beside Y/N and she jumped. The tall red-haired man standing beside Y/N only smiled at her, holding a hands up to indicate he was friendly.

Fatima clicked her tongue. “Are you trying to give her a heart attack, Cam?”

“No, I’m sorry, darl,” the man said, looking at Y/N as he held a hand out for her to shake. “Just saw an unfamiliar face and thought I’d introduce myself, is all. I’m Cameron.”

Y/N took a huge breath, meeting Ellie’s eyes before looking at Cameron and shaking his hand. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he mused under his breath, nodding his head as his hand fell to his side again. “Haven’t seen you around here before, Y/N.”

“I’ve only been here a month now.”

“Too bad we didn’t meet earlier, then.”

Y/N’s eyes widened a bit, the compliment taking her off guard. She only chuckled some, wrapping both her hands around her cup as she looked down at the liquid in it.

“When did you come back, Cam?” Ellie asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Two weeks ago. Are you on vacation here then, Y/N?” Cameron didn’t even spare Ellie a look, his undivided attention on Y/N as she continued to stare at her drink.

But suddenly a pair of black Converse appeared beside her bare feet. She felt a hand on her lower back, a warm and comforting pressure that slowly trailed its way to her waist, wrapping his fingers around her curves and bringing her toward him. Her figure fell against his, fitting against his side as if they’d done this before.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re trying to pull, Cam,” Harry said, his voice steady and a little darker than normal. Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol he had drunk this far or it being late, Y/N didn’t know, but she knew she liked it.

Cameron was quiet for a second. “Your girlfriend? Mate, you got a girlfriend?”

“This is her,” Harry continued.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Haz.”

“Don’t apologise to me, apologise to my girlfriend.”

Cameron smiled, as if he couldn’t believe Harry, but he met Y/N’s eyes. “I apologise, I didn’t know.”

Y/N nodded, not really knowing what else to say or do. Cameron looked at the other three, saying a quick goodbye before buggering off. As he disappeared, Harry’s hand slid back around her waist as he came to stand in front of Y/N. She felt his touch along her forearm, rough fingers caressing her with such sensitivity as if he was afraid of crossing a line. Whenever he touched her like this, she could tell by the rough skin of his hands that he wasn’t used to being gentle like this; wasn’t used to being careful when touching someone else. His work made him have rough skin and maybe even a rough touch, but he was always so incredibly cautious when he reached for Y/N.

He slid his hand into hers, squeezing her fingers as she wrapped them around him. Their eyes met and upon seeing him in front of her, seeing him this close, she felt her eyes widen a bit. Though the entire reason why he was doing this was because there were people around watching them, it still felt like everyone was intruding on a special moment between the two of them.

“You okay? Saw he made you jump a bit,” Harry said, hooded and glassy eyes searching her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just came up out of nowhere,” Y/N answered, offering a smile because she knew Harry’s concern was genuine.

Y/N wasn’t sure if Ellie or Fatima noticed Harry’s slight hesitance because by the sound of it, they were chatting amongst themselves, but Y/N did. Harry leaned in, eyes on hers till he closed them. Every single hair on Y/N’s body shot up as Harry pressed his lips gently against her cheek. He was covering her view of Ellie and Fatima, so the two couldn’t see the immediate shock on Y/N’s face. Their conversation halted, she was aware of that, but all her attention was focused on Harry’s lips and how hot her entire body got in the matter of a second. She closed her eyes, eyelashes brushing his skin. Harry pulled away, resting the right side of his forehead against her left for a few seconds. She wondered if he could feel how hard her heart was beating, how clammy her hands were. Could he tell she wanted to reach for his neck and hold him there, but she was carrying her cup and her other hand was already holding his? Could he feel her breaths on his neck like she could feel his? Did he want to stay like that, safe in each other’s company and unbothered by everyone else, for the rest of the night?

“I’m sure there are taxis driving about town if you two wanna go home,” Ellie said, and Fatima cursed her right away.

Harry took a step away from Y/N, clearing his throat as a familiar redness came to his cheeks. His hand was about to fall away from hers, but she gripped his harder, not ready to let go yet. He gave Fatima and Ellie a tight-lipped smile before meeting Y/N’s eyes again, the muscles in his face relaxing.

“El, I need a refill,” Fatima said, and though Y/N couldn’t read their faces yet, she could kind of tell what that meant.

“Let’s go get you a drink then. See you two in a bit.” Ellie and Fatima walked off, falling into conversation right away.

Harry made sure they were completely alone, that no one was eavesdropping before he said lowly, “Sorry if that was too much, I just… I just thought it’d look good, you know? To kiss my girlfriend- my pretend girlfriend around other people just to underline that we are… you know…”

Y/N nodded, biting her lips together as she watched Harry continue to try and find his words.

“Also, sorry if you wanted to chat to Cameron, I’m… I don’t want this to get in the way-“

“-I didn’t. I don’t.”

Silence stretched on, eyes on one another as the party continued around them. They didn’t have any regard for it as they kept their attention on one another. Y/N had answered so quickly and so honestly that it made her nervous when Harry didn’t say anything. Because it was true that she didn’t want to talk to Cameron, she didn’t know who he was and would probably never see him again. But she knew who Harry was, and she wanted to see him all the time. There was a comfort in his presence that settled over her like a warm, safe blanket. She liked being around him. She didn’t want to be near Cameron or anyone else.

“Do you think people think we’re a couple right now? Are we believable? Is this believable?” Harry mumbled.

Y/N giggled. “Well, you just kissed my cheek out of nowhere, I’d hope it’s somewhat believable and that they think we’re a couple.”

Harry laughed, looking down at their hands. “Yeah, it’s kind of… it’s kind of easy, isn’t it?”

Y/N frowned. “What is?”

“Being like this with you. I might feel like a right idiot when I take your hand or kiss your cheek, but you don’t make me feel like one.”

She smiled.

“It’s natural. Not that… that being in a relationship with you and acting like this is natural, I didn’t mean it like that, but it’s-“ He stopped himself looking up at her again as he bit his bottom lip, shrugging slightly. “-It’s like joking about with a friend and just having fun, feeling comfortable.”

“Yeah?”

“You know… I hope I don’t sound like a melt and I’m probably only able to say this ‘cause I’m a tad tipsy,” Harry said, and Y/N giggled. “But you’ve become one of my best friends. If not best friend, a very good one. Like… dunno, I can talk to you about anything, I don’t feel weird being silent around you, or saying or doing stuff that is weird, and I-I feel like you might feel the same way about me. At least I hope so.”

Her smile widened. “I do.”

He let out a small breath and Y/N chuckled.

“It’s sad that when this ends it’ll look weird if we remain friends, won’t it?” Y/N hated that she was thinking and talking about a time in the future they both knew was coming, but avoided talking about at all costs.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, do exes stay friends without it being weird to a degree? If you start dating someone for example, will our friends expect us to act a certain way, and if they do and we contradict their theory, will that make them suspicious of us?”

Harry furrowed his brows a little.

“I want to hang out with you and it’s sad to think that in August, we might have to part ways and never talk again ‘cause it’ll look… weird. Dunno, I haven’t really gone through this before.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle. “Neither have I.”

Y/N laughed.

“I mean, I’ve gone through a break-up, but not like this.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t talked to my ex since it happened.”

They were quiet for a moment as Harry digested Y/N’s choice of words. “You haven’t talked to your ex since you broke up either? Like, at all?”

“He, uhm, he’s sent me texts, but I don’t want to talk to him.”

Harry must have noticed how little Y/N wanted to talk about her ex, because he looked down at their hands again and let their conversation end there. Y/N held her cup out for him and Harry took it, looking at it. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking if she wanted any more of it, but she shook her head. He poured it out in the sand.

“You’re enjoying yourself?” Harry asked after a little while, wiping something off the corners of his mouth with his free index and thumb.

“The party?” Y/N met Harry’s eyes and then searched for Ellie and Fatima, she’d have to find them later. “Yeah, it’s nice. I like your friends.”

“There are a couple more who want me to introduce you, so we’ll have to do that later if it’s okay.”

“Of course.”

Harry’s eyes fell to the now empty cup. “And are you enjoying yourself in St Ives?”

Y/N smiled. “I am, it’s fun.” As she laid extra pressure on the last word, Harry looked up and as she raised her eyebrows, he knew she was referring to them and their fake relationship. He chuckled and Y/N watched him.

“Is it everything you hoped it’d be?”

She was unsure what he was referring to, but she said, “More.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she answered, folding her hands.

“So, you’re… you’re staying?” Pause. “Right?”

Confused, Y/N furrowed her brows at Harry, studying his face to try and find some sort of explanation to that utterance. She slowly opened her mouth, and said, “Staying?”

“Here.”

“On the beach?”

“No.”

“In St Ives?”

Something that could be interpreted as a nod happened, but no words left Harry’s lips. Instead, he continued to look at her, eyes searching her face as if he could find her answer somewhere there. A slight breeze blew past them, making a curl come loose and hang in front of Harry’s eye. He quickly pushed it away, not letting anything prevent him from seeing Y/N fully as she realised what Harry meant. Y/N felt his fingers brush her arm on their way down.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Harry didn’t say anything or nod this time around. Their eyes didn’t waver, looking at each other and not daring to look away. Y/N didn’t register till then how close they were standing. When the wind blew from behind Harry, she smelled his familiar scent and it made something inside her flutter. It was instinctive to look down at his lips, just as instinctive to look up and feel her breath hitch somewhere in her throat as she saw his lips part. Unapologetically, Harry’s eyes did the same that Y/N’s had done just a few seconds prior. A fire-hot shiver ran up her spine as he glanced at her lips, taking a step forward so that their hands rested against one another. Y/N wanted to look at his lips again, but she simply could not look away from his eyes. He was so close and she didn’t want to ruin it, didn’t want to look away.

“Do you think we’re believable now?” Harry whispered, his voice hoarse.

Y/N couldn’t bring herself to answer, she was waiting for something unspeakable; something that couldn’t be put into word for fear of the reality of those words being too raw, too true. She felt his curl against her forehead. His breath on her nose. Her body prickling with anticipation and confusion, unable to properly decipher if what was going on was all part of the show or if this was genuine. Harry was too respectable to make a move, and Y/N was too perplexed to do anything. If she kissed him, how would he feel? Would he take it as her being genuinely interested in him, or that they were just doing it to seem like a genuine couple? And if she kissed him, would she interpret it as her genuinely fancying him, or would she do it just to feed into their façade?

Before she could think about anything else, someone shouted something above the music and everyone else talking. It seemed to have caught quite a few people’s attention, because the volume on the beach lowered considerably. Harry tore his eyes away from Y/N and looked in the direction of the commotion. Y/N did as well, craning her neck to see beyond the group of people that were hugging and crowding what looked to be a new guest. Harry froze in front of Y/N and she looked at him, then back at the group.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“My…” Harry mumbled, pausing for some seconds. “Emilia.”

Y/N looked back at Harry. “Emilia?”

Harry nodded.

“Your ex?”

“The one who lived in Munich for two years, yeah.” Harry ran a hand through his hair before he met Y/N’s eyes. “I haven’t seen her since she came back, think she came back sometime last week.”

“Do you want to go say hi?”

“I…” Harry glanced in Emilia’s direction again, clearly thinking it over thoroughly. “I mean… yes, but… she’d meet you as well. She’d have to.”

“Why?”

“’Cause Dax won’t be able to keep himself from bringing up the fact that I have a new girlfriend. Pretend girlfriend, but… you know…”

Y/N nodded.

“If she knows I’m here and I’m with my new girlfriend, she’s gonna wanna meet you.”

She inhaled sharply. “Why would she want to meet the person you’re supposedly being intimate with now?”

Harry’s eyes grew wide for a single second before he composed himself, blinking himself back to reason. “Dunno. Emilia is very sociable. Just like you.”

“But she’d meet the person you’re with now, I don’t see why she’d want to meet them.”

“Maybe she’s happy for me, maybe she wants to meet someone who supposedly makes me happy,” Harry offered, shrugging his shoulders.

Y/N stared at him for a few seconds. “I know you said she didn’t want to be with you ‘cause it affected her mental health, and I get that, but leaving you when you were at your lowest is still an awful thing to do.”

Harry glanced at Y/N.

“And then not talking to you for two years after just sodding off to Munich. She doesn’t know what you’ve been through since then, do you think she’s gonna care now?”

Harry furrowed his brows. “Y/N, I loved Emilia.”

“I’m aware, but the people we love don’t have to love us back the same way we love them. One part always ends up loving more, feeling more, doing more. We can’t choose how much we love someone, and we don’t have a say in how they love us, but the fact of the matter is that if you love someone, you act like it. You let them know.”

Harry didn’t say anything, he just bit the inside of his cheek and continued to look at Y/N.

“I’m fully aware you loved Emilia, probably still do, but it doesn’t sit right with me that she just removed herself like that completely. You’re not a toxic person, you were just going through a rough time.”

“Harry!” Amir shouted, waving Harry and Y/N over. “Harry, mate!”

Harry watched Y/N for a few more seconds, probably either debating what she’d just said or losing every shred of respect he had for her, Y/N didn’t know. He nodded in the direction of everyone and the two started walking there, strolling the distance in silence. She didn’t know how she was supposed to interpret said silence, if it was a good kind or if he just didn’t want to talk to her for the rest of the night because he had taken offense to what she’d said.

When they reached the group, they made space for Harry and Y/N, and the first thing Y/N noticed was the brunette standing on the opposite side to the circle from them. Her blue eyes lit up when she saw Harry and she smiled at him instantly, clearly happy to see him after two years of no contact.

“Hi,” she exclaimed, crossing the circle, and giving Harry a hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too,” Harry said. “How was Munich?”

“Amazing, I’m moving there permanently after University, I’m sure.” Emilia stepped away from Harry and immediately, her eyes fell on Y/N. “And this must be the girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N’s eyes met, Harry raising his eyebrows in a quick “told you so”, which made Y/N smile some before turning back to Emilia.

“Yes, I guess I am. And you’re the ex.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he looked from Y/N to Emilia and back again. It was evident that the rest of the group, and quite a few others as well, were watching this interaction with keen interest. They were probably waiting for one of them to start a fight and the other one to feed into it, something Harry would step in to stop and take sides, which would ultimately just end badly. It was clearly something a lot of people thought would be great entertainment. But Y/N kept her cool, not wanting to sound passive aggressive or make Harry uncomfortable. Though she was not impressed with Emilia’s past actions, she wasn’t about to judge her solely on them. Y/N hoped she was right not to.

“I am, it’s been so long since I’ve seen Harry.” Emilia looked back at Harry, considerably smaller than him, looking up at him through her lashes. “That rain check you were talking about, you could make up for it by walking me over to get a cup?”

Y/N looked at Harry, about to open her mouth and ask what rain check Emilia was talking about, but she realised it was none of her business. And questioning Harry like this in front of everyone would just feed into everything everyone wanted. So, Y/N just crossed her arms over her chest.

“Actually, we’re about to leave,” Harry said, giving Emilia a small smile.

Emilia pouted. “Really? It’ll only take you a minute.”

Harry opened his mouth to inhale hugely, looking over at Y/N who hoped he could tell she didn’t like this. But Harry met Emilia’s eyes again, taking a step back and Emilia grinned as the two started walking towards the table in the middle of the beach with all the cups. Y/N watched them, how easily they fell into conversation and how eager Emilia was to talk to Harry again. While witnessing this, Y/N kept reminding herself of what Harry had said earlier, about her becoming one of his closest friends. She hoped repeating that moment to herself would prevent her from getting hurt and sad and angry, but it didn’t. When turning back toward the gang, she realised both Ellie and Dax were watching Harry and Emilia as well. And upon taking a look around, she realised Jo, Amir, and Fatima were as well. Y/N didn’t know for what purpose, but if Dax’s tense jaw was any indicator, it couldn’t have been for a particularly good reason.

Why would Harry do that? Though Y/N wasn’t in a relationship with him, it was still embarrassing for her to have to stand there and wait for him. She felt ridiculous when Fatima met her eyes again, giving her an apologetic smile, one Y/N – Harry’s fake girlfriend – didn’t deserve, but she appreciated it nevertheless. Because despite everything, this hurt. She dug her nails into her upper arms as she stood there, mad at Harry for the first time ever. Though it had been gormless of Emilia to ask in the first place, Harry hadn’t really needed much persuasion.

As Emilia and Harry’s voices got louder, the gang started up a light conversation that Y/N pretended to be part of. She only gave Harry a slight glance before looking back at Dax who was talking, the guy not giving the returning two any of his attention either. Y/N wondered if Dax thought the same way about Emilia’s behaviour as she did, but then again, it wasn’t like Y/N could take Dax aside and ask him that. If Y/N sought Dax out to talk about Harry’s ex, it wouldn’t look good.

“Ready to leave?” Y/N asked, reaching into her tote bag for her cardigan. Some of her passive aggressiveness was detectable in her voice, she hoped no other than Harry picked up on it. She was still tipsy so she blamed her incapability to hold back on that.

“Yeah,” Harry said, standing very still as he watched Y/N put her cardigan on. Once it was on, she smiled at everyone, and then looked at Harry as he directed a “See ya, yeah?” at everyone. Though Dax was visibly sad the two were leaving, he seemed to know why they were bailing because he didn’t ask them why or stop them. Y/N put her shoes back on and the two started on their way back up the hill that led to the car park.

It was unexpected when Harry reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers so slowly and so deliberately that she felt it in every single one of her cells. Though it was nice to feel him there, she had to bite her lip from saying anything as they walked up Burrow Road. The second they were out of sight and alone, Y/N let go of his hand. This wasn’t something Harry would’ve usually paid much attention had he not heard her passive aggression just a few moments earlier.

“Is it Emilia?” Harry asked.

It was stupid how the only time Harry managed to be blunt and upfront was when he knew he was in trouble or if someone was annoyed with him. At least Y/N thought so.

She straightened her back, wrapping her cardigan tighter around herself. “What about Emilia?”

“Is that why you’re all… mad? Dunno if mad is the best word.”

“Think it describes how I’m feeling perfectly,” Y/N said. “’Cause I’d say I’m mad with a dash of disappointed.”

Harry looked over at her, frowning again. “Why?”

“Why am I mad you walked over there with Emilia?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders exaggeratingly. “Call it intuition, call it paranoia, call it whatever you bloody want, but I think she wants you back now that you’re not broken up about your Dad anymore.”

Harry took a few seconds to say, “I’ll call that stupidity.”

The laugh that left Y/N was anything but friendly and warm. “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

“Why are you so mad about this anyway? It’s not like we’re…” Harry stopped himself, looking over at Y/N who refused to look at him. “It’s not like we’re a couple.”

“It’s still embarrassing. I was left standing there while my boyfriend walked off with his ex. You don’t even want to admit that what you did was stupid.”

“’Cause it’s not, we just walked down to that table so she could get herself a cup.”

Y/N sighed, running her hands over her face. “Yes, it’s an innocent act and I probably have no right to act like this, but I’m being a friend. I’m trying to look out for you.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Being a friend, looking out for me?”

Y/N looked at him, seeing his set jaw and piercing eyes. “Why wouldn’t I look out for you?”

“Right now you just seem mad I hung out with my ex.”

She glanced away again, so frustrated with him that she felt like screaming. They reached Back Road, Y/N walking straight ahead to take the quickest way back to the Inn, Harry was turning right to Clodgy. “Interpret it any way you want, Harry. I’m being truthful when I tell you I just want what’s best for you.”

There was a pause as Harry watched Y/N cross the road. “You’re just gonna leave like that? You don’t wanna talk it out?”

“You don’t understand where I’m coming from, Harry!” Y/N exclaimed as she faced him, turning her back on the dark alleyway behind her. “What’s the point?!”

“Y/N, it’s not like I’m making out with Emilia in front of everyone!”

“I know, but that small act of just walking down there has a lot of meaning! She wants to make up for lost time!”

“You’re just reading too much into this!”

“And you think the best of people who hurt you!”

“She left for her own good, don’t blame her for that!”

“I’m not! I just think it’s odd to not check up on you in those two years following your breakup when you were clearly having a tough time when she left!”

“Oh, my days, Y/N.” Harry ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

“I know you want to see the best in everyone, but I’ve experienced people fucking me over ‘cause I gave them the benefit of the doubt. Multiple times. I’m not doing that again, I’m-I’m just not. And I don’t want to watch that same thing happen to you.”

Harry blinked when Y/N cursed, but quickly regained himself. “I can take care of myself!”

“I’m just being a friend and looking out for you, I’m sorry if-“

“-And what if I don’t want you to look out for me as a friend?!”

Y/N was about to answer, but she felt something brush against her back and then a figure moving out of the dark alleyway behind her. Her heart skipped a beat and the next thing she knew, she felt it in her throat. She jumped out of the way, stepping just in the crack between two cobblestones and stumbling away from the stranger. The man looked at Y/N as she regained her balance, about to reach his hand out to help her when Harry rushed across the road. Y/N managed herself, but she took another step away from the stranger who genuinely looked baffled as to what had just happened. Y/N put a hand over her heart, feeling it beating furiously. Calm down, calm down, calm down, she told herself, feeling safer the second Harry put a hand to her upper arm.

“You alright, miss?” the man asked, looking at Harry who was standing beside Y/N, making sure she was okay.

“Sorry,” Y/N said, doing her best to give him a smile. “I’m just a bit jumpy. And a tad drunk.”

He laughed joyously before continuing on his way, and the second he turned away, Y/N’s face fell. Harry noticed and turned her to face him, squeezing her shoulders so she’d look at him. She balled her hands into fists as she felt her heart beating hard, calming down from the sudden rush of adrenaline.

“You’re okay,” he said, recognising her reaction from that first time she read to him in the grass beside the lighthouse.

Y/N nodded, meeting Harry’s eyes and telling herself it was all fine. She would be fine. Harry was here and nothing would happen to her while he was here. She continued to look at him till she was calmer, but the thought of walking down that dark alleyway now made her want to hurl. However, she didn’t have any other place to walk and she had to get back somehow. Maybe she could call Bessie and talk to her, or maybe she could find another and maybe longer route back. But then she’d be out in the open longer than she initially wanted to.

“Have you always been like that?” Harry asked, the question curious and without any hint of judgement.

“Like what?”

“Paranoid.”

Y/N smiled a little as if that would brighten the mood that had fallen considerably. Slowly, she nodded, averting her eyes from Harry’s. “I like being prepared for anything, for any possible outcome.”

Harry didn’t remove his hands from where they rested on her shoulders.

“So, I either make them up, or if something happens unexpectedly, my brain does this thing where it tells me that the worst possible thing is happening, and I need to escape.”

“What’s the worst possible thing that can happen?”

“In any scenario?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N watched as someone turned every light in their flat off, wishing she was in her bed right now. “That my Dad finds me.”

Harry stayed quiet.

“He terrifies me. Always has. I know he won’t hurt me, but… he’s a bad man, Harry. A very bad man.”

“He won’t come here, Y/N. You’re safe in St Ives.”

Some part of her laughed at that, but when she met his eyes, she knew he genuinely meant it. If Harry was there, he would not let anything happen to her. No matter what. Even if they had a disagreement the second before her Dad showed up. But her father knew where she was and if he wanted her back, he would do what he could to get her back. A lighthouse keeper wouldn’t stand in his way.

Y/N felt her bottom lip starting to wobble at the thought of it, and she put a hand in front of her mouth when the back of her eyes started to sting.

“Hey,” Harry said, squeezing her shoulders. “Let’s go back to mine, yeah? You won’t have to be alone.”

She met his eyes, blinking a few times as she processed his offer. “Yours?”

“Yeah, if you’re a bit shaken up, I thought you might… might not want to be alone.”

Without really registering what she was doing, Y/N was nodding her head to answer his question. “If you’re sure I won’t be a burden in any way-“

“-Flower, you’re never.”

She almost thought she heard him incorrectly. Flower. She had never gotten a nickname before. Her friends back home used to call her ‘babe’ and her mother would sometimes call her ‘sweetheart’ and Bessie referred to her as ‘dear’, but never this one. She suddenly felt a little lightheaded.

Harry wrapped an arm around her and held her to him as they walked through the city. He hummed to The Power of Love as they strolled, keeping the empty and quiet streets of St Ives alive as long as they were walking through them. Y/N looked about them, staring down alleyways and streets, sometimes being too afraid to even to study the shadows or look to make out silhouettes in the darkness. Harry’s humming kept her grounded and reminded her that she wasn’t alone. Once they were walking along the road up to Clodgy Point, Harry let go of her, letting her walk by herself. It was starting to get a bit chilly when the winds of the moors started up around them, so Y/N reached for Harry’s knitted jumper in her tote bag and gave it to him. He was a bit taken aback by that, seemingly having forgotten it was there, but he thanked her, the only two words being uttered at all on their 30-minute walk up to the lighthouse.

Harry unlocked the door and walked in first, turning the light on the coffee table on as Y/N locked the front door. He opened a window to let some air in, then took his jumper and shoes off. Y/N did the same, wrapping her arms around herself. She was aware it had been Harry’s idea for her to stay here, but she suddenly felt like she was intruding. This was his space and his bedtime routine. They had walked off most of their drunkenness, so when Y/N tripped over her own feet a bit, it was purely from exhaustion. Harry was almost about to reach out and catch her even though he was across the room, but his dedication to help her made her chuckle a little. Harry smiled at the sound of it.

Y/N put her tote bag on one of the chairs, putting her cardigan over the back of it as well.

“I…” Harry started, making Y/N look over at where he stood by his dresser. “I have a few shirts and stuff if you wanna freshen up some.”

Y/N chuckled. “What do you mean?”

Realising he probably didn’t make sense, Harry let a breath escape his lips as well. “I meant, if you wanna have a shower, I’ll lend you a tee shirt.”

The thought of showering in Harry’s space seemed almost a bit surreal, but for some reason, also completely normal. She spent so much time here and with him that in a way, it was weird that she hadn’t showered here before. She slowly nodded her head, and Harry opened a drawer, pulling out an old tee white shirt with a small Elton John logo on the chest.

“Towels,” Harry said, walking over to his tiny bathroom and turning the lights on for her. “They’re here, and I got everything you might need in the shower. There’s an unused toothbrush in the cabinet under the sink.”

“Thank you.”

Harry gave her a smile before closing the door. Taking a breather first, the next thing Y/N did was get undressed and take that shower. She washed away the argument with Harry and the reason why it was cut off so abruptly; tried to soak herself in everything else that happened tonight that made her entire body warm. When Harry kissed her cheek; the way his hot lips felt against her skin, how the thought of that moment alone made her feel some type of way. She knew Harry only did it so everyone would think they were a couple, but her cheek was tingling.

She got out of the shower, drying herself off, and putting Harry’s tee shirt on, her skirt under it. Yes, the two were starting to get comfortable around one another, but she wasn’t sure if they were just there yet. Last thing she wanted to do was walk out there in her knickers and one of his tee shirts, then make him uncomfortable in any way. Though she felt like a raisin since she was not doing her usual post-shower skin routine, nor any hair products for her hair, she told herself she’d do it tomorrow when she was back to the Inn.

She walked outside to see Harry laying in his bed, his small telly that was stood by his couch, turned around so he could watch a rerun of an old Would I Lie To You episode. When the bathroom door opened, he instantly looked in her direction, placing his hands on either side of his form as if he got ready to get up. Their eyes met and his eyes fell to her tee shirt, where the material hugged her waist firmly. He met her eyes again, swallowing thickly before he gestured beside him at two glasses of water.

“One by the window is yours.”

“I’m literally so thirsty, thank you.”

Harry smiled, walking past Y/N and into the bathroom, going to take his own shower. Y/N sat down in Harry’s bed, nuzzling under the covers and taking a hold of her glass. She brought it to her lips, sipping it till it was empty, watching the telly as she did. She got up for a refill, drank half, and then just continued to watch the telly for a bit. The light in the room was dim enough so she could easily fall asleep, and she almost did drift off against the headboard, but then Harry exited the bathroom and woke her up with a start.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

She smiled, sinking down into the pillow. “Almost went off to dreamland there.”

“Soz.”

“I’m a light sleeper, it’s not your fault.”

Harry nodded, walking over to turn the lights off, the only light in the entire little cottage now being the light from the telly. He strolled over to the fridge and took a cucumber out. Y/N watched him as he brought a knife out, cutting it up in half.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Just brushed my teeth.”

“So did I, but after I’ve been out, I usually eat half a cucumber before bed.”

Y/N stared at him.

“What?”

“Just… just a cucumber? Nothing else?”

“What else? Do you spice your cucumber? With what?” Harry looked at his little box of spices by his stove. “Onion granules?”

Y/N laughed, placing her hands on the duvet above her stomach.

“I actually had jalfrezi leftovers after we went to the pub a few weeks ago,” Harry said as he came over to the bed, giving Y/N half the cucumber. “So I dipped my cucumber in that and ate it.”

Y/N grimaced. “Were you still pissed?”

“No,” Harry chuckled. “I just like cucumber and Indian food.”

“Fair enough.”

Harry picked up one of his quilts and sat down in bed beside Y/N, draping it over himself so she could have the duvet for herself. He bit into his half of the cucumber, completely unfazed as his eyes fell on the telly. Y/N tried not to laugh, but he looked so incredibly cute, munching on his cucumber and smiling at something Rob Brydon said. He must’ve noticed her not eating, because he looked down at where she laid in bed, raising his eyebrows.

“You weren’t hungry?”

“It’s not that.”

“It’s honestly refreshing.” Harry took another bite. “I love it.”

That made her smile and she took a bite of her cucumber as well, Harry watching her as she chewed and then swallowed.

“Well…? Your verdict?”

“It’s just a cucumber.”

Harry rolled his eyes, making Y/N laugh again. “You’re humiliating.”

“Says the person who eats half a cucumber before bed!”

“I’m quirky!”

Laughing again, the two fell into comfortable silence as they watched the rest of the Would I Lie To You episode. Though the idea of eating half a cucumber hadn’t been very appealing to begin with, it did make her feel a bit better. She didn’t know she’d been hungry till now, the cucumber and the two glasses of water had done a well enough job to fill her stomach up before bed, so she didn’t bother asking Harry if she could make herself a toastie. Instead, Y/N found her eyes falling shut, her entire body relaxing completely. All the worry and the paranoia and the fight earlier all came together now, making her so tired she could barely stand to keep her eyes open. Her entire body ached with the effort it took to stay awake. She stayed as close to the wall as possible, where she could look out across the dimly lit lightkeeper house.

Y/N felt the move as Harry reached out to the windowsill. He sat back, screwing the lid open, revealing a balm of some sort. He rubbed his middle finger in it, slowly sliding it along the thick balm till his finger was wet with it. Y/N bit her bottom lip. For some reason, she thought he was going to smear it across his own lips, some sort of cream to help keep his lips moisturised. No, instead Harry dragged his finger under his eyes. Not directly under his eyes, but along his cheekbones, slowly and gently.

“What’s that?” Y/N asked through a yawn.

Harry looked away from the telly and at her. “Face cream.”

“You put it on before bed?”

“It helps me sleep, it’s made of lavender and apricot. Both are supposed to help you fall into a deep sleep.”

“Can I try?”

“Yeah.” Harry handed it over, leaning his head back against the headboard, watching Y/N as she smelled it.

“Lush.”

“It is.”

Y/N rubbed her finger in it, putting it along under her eye. She was aware Harry was keeping an eye on her, but she pretended to find the programme incredibly interesting right then. She heard a slight chuckle.

“Not directly under your eyes,” Harry said. “Not there.” He leaned over, taking a delicate grip of her wrist and moving her hand down. “Here.” His hand moved upward to cup hers, his little finger, ring finger, and middle finger hooking themselves tenderly between her thumb and index. His index rested on top of hers as he guided her hand slowly and gently, tipping his head to the side to rest against the headboard while he concentrated. She didn’t dare look away from the telly, too overwhelmed to do anything but let him help her.

“Then the other eye,” he mumbled, telling her what was going to happen next. Because without warning, he dipped his finger in the balm Y/N was holding, swirling his finger slowly around till it was moist. When he did that, she simply could not help herself, and her eyes fell to look at his hand, taken aback by what was happening. However, she didn’t move or tell him to stop when Harry brought his hand up, sliding it over her cheekbone. Soft, slow, graceful. A prickling hot sensation followed where he touched, slowly spreading through her entire body. She looked away from the balm and at Harry, the second she did, he glanced back at her. A slight breath left her lips, Harry’s eyes falling to them. She sat up, finding the lid and placing it back on the balm. She handed it back to Harry.

Harry took it, placing it back in the windowsill before he got up from bed. Y/N lay back down, quickly checking the pulse on her neck because she knew her heart was beating hard. If it beat hard enough, would it somehow make the bed creak? Was it possible her heartbeat made her entire body shake like that? Just in case, Y/N switched so she was laying on her side. She watched as Harry turned the telly off, the room falling into complete darkness. Y/N closed her eyes, realising for the first time in a minute or two how sleepy she actually was.

It took a second or two before she felt the bed move and creak as he sat down. He shuffled till he was comfortable laying on his side facing her. Only reason she knew that was because she heard his content sigh and felt his breath on her face. It had been quiet for a minute or so before Harry whispered her name.

“Hm?” she asked, opening her eyes slightly. She could not make out much, but she thought she might’ve seen him looking at her. That might also just be her imagination playing tricks on her.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said, his voice a whisper.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“I know you’re just looking out for me and I’m sorry if it was embarrassing for you when I did that.”

“I’m sorry I criticised her for leaving you when it was bad for her mental health, I just know that it can’t have been easy to have been in your shoes just then, so that break up can’t have been easy to deal with on top of everything else.”

Silence stretched on for a few seconds. “It wasn’t. But I don’t blame her for leaving if that was what was best for her.”

Y/N closed her eyes again. “Okay.”

She felt the bed move again as Harry found a new position that was more comfortable. The pillow she rested her head on moved a bit, she reckoned he slung his arm over the top of her head.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry said, voice slurring now as well.

“Night.”

“My alarm will go off at 3am, by the way.”

She smiled. “I know.”

She heard him let out a slight breath, sounding like a small chuckle, and the next thing she knew, she was having the slumber of her life.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 27 September, 9PM GMT!

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[muffinlance]

Ok so Kindling!AU Zuko probably would be pretty useless as a firebender right? I mean by the time he got banished he was probably like... instinctively afraid of fire, even his own (especially his own if Ozai trained him heh) Does this mean he pretty much stopped firebending? Or does he like... not care how afraid and even more burned he gets, he's gonna firebend because he won't dishonor himself even further and also like surely that's what his father would want from him? ;))))

No one called them Kindling, officially. The word never appeared on any written document, any report. It got censored out of letters home.

Unofficially, everyone called them that.

In the 41st Division, their unit was officially dubbed the 41st Fire Starters. Like all Kindling units, they were kept largely to camp outside of active duty. For better supervision in their training, of course. Their talents weren't to be wasted on scout patrols or minor scuffles. Their barracks were in the middle of everything, the non-bender units and command posts and sentries standing between them and the outside world. For their own protection, of course.

Not firebending was not an option. Not even for their newest recruit, the wobbly kid who was only going to have half a face once those bandages came off. Kuzon of Nara got a peek when he was in the hospital tents getting his hands rebandaged. He wasn't very good at bending. The kid must be worse, with a face like that. The kid was young. So was Kuzon.

The average life expectancy for Kindling in the field was three years. One of those was their training year.

The 41st Division's training year was ending soon. The new kid must have ticked someone off, to get assigned here just as they got their first marching orders.

(The new kid looked a hell of a lot like Prince Zuko, may he rest in peace. It was a training accident that claimed the young prince's life. Of course.)

(Under those bandages, the new kid's raw burn was the size and shape of a grown man's fist. If that fist was on fire. No one said anything about this. Of course.)

Kuzon didn't gossip about what he saw. He told everyone, but that wasn't the same as gossip.

"Hey, kid," he said in the dark of the barracks. (It was after light's out, and they'd been locked inside for their own good, of course.) "We're going to take care of you, okay? Wherever you came from, that's over now. They don't... they don't hurt us, here."

Kuzon had some scars too. Not from bending; his mum wasn't a bender. His mum complained that if she had to raise a piece of Kindling for the military to burn, the least they could do was pay to feed him. His mum had three other non-bender kids to look out for. It had to be hard raising a kid you knew you couldn't love.

"Not on purpose," Kuzon added, into the silence. The kid curled up tighter on his bunk. Maybe he even got some sleep.

Officially, the kid's name was Li. The kid was real slow about responding to that.

Unofficially, they called him Prince.

"Just a nickname, Sarge," Kuzon smiled at their squad leader. "Harmless, right?"

The Sarge let out a breath, and then got back to yelling them through their drills.

The kid had been cleared for training (too soon).

The kid went through water like he was running a fever (he was).

The kid came with them all to the hospital tent afterwards, and fell asleep sitting up while they chattered around him. While the healers wrapped their new burns, and checked their old. Kuzon nudged him awake before the nurse could set a hand on him. Prince did not like waking up to unfamiliar faces. Kuzon wasn't exactly familiar, but he was better than nothing.

"Where are you hurt?" the nurse asked. Clinical, perfunctory. It must be hard, helping patients who would never really heal.

"Just my face," Prince said.

The nurse's lips turned down. "I mean new injuries."

"Nowhere," the kid said, and he sounded so puzzled about it. Like after a full day of training, that was normal.

(Prince Zuko was said to be a crap bender. Such a tragic death. If only he'd been born with the talent of the rest of Sozin's line, that innate control that had let them ascend to leadership, their bending blessed by Agni himself.)

(A lot of the kid's scars had the wrong edges to them, if you knew what to look for. Accidents were accidents: they flared, they dotted little ember-trails, they didn't stop clean like a hand wrapped around a forearm.)

(Kindling were allowed to wear short sleeves during training. Encouraged, even, for their quartermaster's sanity. The kid never did. He barely ever lit those trailing edges on fire, either.)

"You never have to go back," Kuzon said, into the darkness between their bunks. "I know this isn't a great life, but it's better, right?"

"...I miss home," the kid whispered back.

"Yeah," Kuzon said. "Me too."

You could miss things even when they were terrible for you.

The Sarge had been working them extra hard since their deployment orders came. He didn't need to remind them that the only prisoners the Earth Kingdom ever took were non-benders. Kindling were dangerous enough to themselves.

The non-bending units were getting worked just as hard. The officers all looked like they'd swallowed lemon-kumquats. They stopped sometimes, and watched the Kindling squad at training. Watched Prince. Left, after a good long look, their expressions unreadable.

Now that the kid's fever had broken (now that he almost-trusted that they wouldn't lay a hand on him, with fire or not), he'd taken to yelling at their sloppy bending almost as loud as the Sarge. The Sarge allowed it. The Sarge might have been in love.

The kid's new nickname was Sergeant. Sergeant Prince, Sir Yes Sir, if they were being formal.

"I hate you all," the kid said, and only growled when they ruffled his chick-fuzz hair. (Their entire unit might have been in love.)

Deployment day. Camp was packed up, and distributed largely to the wagons and the backs of the non-benders. Couldn't really trust the Kindling not to light something vital on fire, after all.

"You've got your full three years until retirement," Kuzon tried to joke. (It wasn't a joke.) "We've already used one of ours up. Remember that, okay? You're the one who's going to be fine. Statistically speaking."

The kid's scowl was really good, with that scar.

They reached their new camp site, on the wrong side of the lines. The Kindling unit took one of its small pleasures in life: heckling the non-benders as they set up.

"You could help."

"With our delicate constitutions?" Kuzon gasped, a hand over his heart. The fake swooning was probably unnecessary, but it made Sergeant Prince snort. Which was pretty much rolling in the dirt laughing, from anyone else.

None of the officers were laughing. Or shouting more than necessary. The camp was reassembled to military standard, and not a polished-boot more. It felt hollow, somehow.

Their first fight made it pretty clear why. It was also their last fight, after all.

The kid was alive, the last Kuzon saw. They'd done that much right. Without a locked bunk room or checkpoints or sentries watching inside the camp as much as out, he could leave. Run. They made him run, scared him with fire when he wouldn't, gave him a few more non-accidental scars. They wouldn't look any different then the rest of the kid's collection, but they were.

Where would be go? He was as obvious as firebenders got. The Earth Kingdom would kill him on sight; he'd have to go back to the military. That was the real trap. Not the locks or the guards. There was no place else that let Kindling burn, even for the short time they had.

But the kid was alive. That wasn't nothing.

Kuzon hissed in pain when the soldiers flipped him over. They weren't trying to be rough about it, but they weren't trying for gentle, either. Just checking the bodies.

It hurt too much to hold his breath, so playing dead had never been an option. He just kept breathing in quick tight breaths, and gave the guys in green his best smile. More or less.

"You a bender?" one of them asked.

Didn't really seem much point in answering, all things considered.

The other one lifted Kuzon's arm--stopped lifting when Kuzon couldn't help the noise that brought out of him--and rolled up his sleeve.

Rough burn scars, and yesterday's bandages. Yeah, he was a bender. The guy's face twisted in disgust, but the way he set Kuzon's arm back down was almost gentle.

"They're all so young," the guy said.

"Yeah," his partner said. Which was about the only thing a man could say, when everyone knew the truth didn't change anything.

Kuzon of Nara didn't see much after that.

[bellamioneotp]

Bellamione Fic Master List

Making a list of Bellamione fics to guide the poor innocent souls into temptation organize stories based on AU type. 

DARK AU’s

Bellatrix isn’t a bright ball of sunshine, but rather than have a story where she becomes a better person, Hermione becomes like her, or even joins her side. This AU type isn’t limited to only that, but also to general dark themes in the story such as violence, war and ‘wtf this is so wrong but yet I can’t stop reading’. 

Reign Down Like wow. A whole world built around what if Voldemort survived and used Hermione in his evil schemes and had Bellatrix engaged to her. Very detailed and the author doesn’t hold back on aspects of the new world that can be somewhat unsettling. 25/10 this will leave you wondering just how sexy dark magic can truly feel. 

The Dark Corners of the Earth This one is dark in an entirely different sense. Bellatrix and Snape are pitted in an ancient war against one another and Hermione is caught in the middle. The romance moves a bit too fast paced for me but the lore and detail in this will have you really thinking this story over the next few days, trying to figure out just wtf is going on. 45/10 will have you hoping your nightlight can keep Cthulhu away. 

Haunted This story won’t leave you haunted, but it is pretty good even with it’s short chapters and all. It tells the story of Hermione sort of losing her marbles but I won’t get into too much detail. Just read it for yourself; it’s a quick easy read. 10/10 is poetic as fuck. 

I Dream of Sin Takes place in a sort of canon world in which Hermione is an American teen being bullied. You can imagine how well that goes for the bullies especially when she learns she has magic and is taught by Bellatrix herself on how to use it. It gets progressively darker each chapter. 16/10 don’t want to mess with magical nerds ever. 

For whom the Bell Tolls is an interesting look into how Hermione’s actually a death eater and Bellatrix is not. While Hermione is not bat shit insane, she is a murderer and Bellatrix is the sane one. Nice to see things switched up. This story is not necessarily as dark as the others but it gets brownie points for making the usually good Hermione evil right off the bat. 9/10 come to the dark side, we have cookies. 

Staring at Nothing is just...wow.  A very powerful one shot about Hermione’s descent into darkness as told by Harry’s perspective. 10/10 for who needs friends anyways, when you’ve got black leather. 

Visions of You in which Hermione is a depressed youth after the war and has to deal with hallucinations of Bellatrix. Hermione isn’t dark here so much as she is gray type, and the story has a permeating tinge of sadness to it, given the circumstances. 8/10 for maybe Bellatrix isn’t a hallucination? 

Deep Below what’s more awful than being accused of Harry’s death? Being falsely accused of it, and having to deal with trying to prove your innocent. This is a situation Hermione ends up in. But will she get out of it? 8/10 for this gets deep. 

How to Love Bellatrix captures Hermione and sort of indoctrinates her into the world of darkness. Hermione is mad at first, but then she realizes how sexy Bellatrix is and is like, ‘alright fam, sign me up’ and boom Bellamione. 8/10 you love this story but not it’s update schedule. 

TIME TRAVELER AU’s

Basically, what it says on the tin. Someway or another, Hermione goes back into time to stop Bellatrix from ever becoming evil. Drama and romance ensue. 

Future Shocks A good time turner fic with a more modern take on war. It’s pretty long and it is the slowburn of all slowburns. But it’s a very interesting story and the ending will have you definitely shook. 8/10 will shock you awake from that boring lecture you’re reading fanfic in. 

Time Heals all Wounds Hermione gets sent back in time to ‘redeem’ Bellatrix but not in the gift card way, more like saving the future type way. They end up, you guessed it, falling in love and changing the future somewhat. 6/10 is a young teen romance that will have you reliving your adventures as a young sapphic witch. 

Mirror, Mirror Not exactly a time turner fic, more like a parallel world, I suppose. Hard to explain but has good amounts of mystery and trying to understand what is happening. Focuses more on Bellatrix’s POV which is a nice change of pace. 8/10 will have you looking in the mirror and summoning Bellatrix like she was Bloody Mary. 

Let the Light Come and Take me A time turner fic that ends up with Bellatrix time traveling but to the future and the chaos her arrival there causes for those who are acquainted with her devious ways. Looks at the growth of our two ladies relationship into something more. 5/10 if it’s not slowburn romance is it really Bellamione?

The One Within the Other this story is about, you guessed it, time travel! Hermione goes back on purpose to stop Bellatrix from achieving her evil potential and in the process love blossoms. 7/10 for never enough time to read Bellamione in peace!

Caught in the Time series this is a series of three full length stories about Bellamione stuck in different times and universes. So much happens in them it’s kind of hard to summarize so the best thing to do is read them. 8, 8.5, 7/10 I’ll let you figure out which score goes for which series.

Just say When started off as a time turner story but then it ended up becoming something more of an espionage tale. It’s a good read and interesting to see how Bellatrix aims to save Hermione from a dementor’s kiss (spoilers!) in order to save their future together. A good mix of romance and action. 8/10 The name’s Black. Bellatrix, Black. 

The Broken Wand It all starts with a wand and then before you know it, boom, time travel happens. Featuring Loki and adventure all around, this fic has interesting plot points to keep you engaged despite the slower update times. 7/10, will break your wand too. 

Hourglass basically, a young Bellatrix is brought into the future and consequences abound from that mishap. The plot is a bit wonky and there are some logic mistakes, but if you can get over it, it’s a decent time travel story. 5/10 for it must be canon that Bellatrix has a lovely hourglass figure. 

Times they are a Changing where Bellatrix travels back in time to save her wife, Hermione. Nice to see a story where Hermione isn’t the one doing all the saving. Unfortunately there’s only six chapters to this story and it’s unlikely it’ll ever get finished but it’s a nice fresh concept. 6/10 for that’s how many chapters there are. 

Destined in this one, Hermione experiences some wonky times after the battle at the department of mysteries. Hermione has to find a way back home, but perhaps she might find love along the way? 10/10 for this is destined to be an interesting read. 

HEALER AU’s 

Let’s be real, Bellatrix has got a lot of problems and these authors try to solve them, with sex. And you know, medical help. But sex definitely helps a lot. 

Portrait of a Tragic Woman Not a typical healer type au, because Hermione is a therapist whose helping Bellatrix with her mental disorders. Focuses a lot on the relationship between the two and really makes you try to figure out what exactly is up with Bellatrix and what is her past, etc. The ending chapters will leave you shooketh and wondering what even is real anymore. 50/10 because it feels like an acid trip, man. 

The Healer is only one chapter but still worth a read. Hopefully the author will have some time to get back to it because it has a huge potential. 6/10 because I need some healing. 

1k is a one shot, featuring Hermione as a therapist and Bellatrix as her patient. Can’t say too much without spoiling it, but despite it’s short length, the author paints a vivid look into Bellatrix’s mind if she was just an insane muggle. 1k/10 because that’s one patient I would never like to meet.

Darkness Underneath I mean, Hermione runs a team of healers, so technically it’s kinda a healer au fic, right? This story looks more in depth at the Death Eaters and dark magic surrounding them. 9/10 is that a dark mark or are you just happy to see me?

TEACHER AU

We all know this is the holy grail au of this fandom and yet there’s only a couple of long stories for this. Someone, write some more!

Fractures A long fic, that has a sequel. Basically, Bellatrix is Hermione’s teacher during a very trying time for Hermione when a competition goes very wrong and dark truths are revealed. Lot’s of action, Bellamione interactions, and overall interesting plot. 8/10 will leave your heart in fractures when you find out the sequel is unfinished. 

In the Dead of Night Hermione asks Bellatrix if she can teach her some.....magic and things end up becoming very magical indeed. Bellatrix is the teacher in this story (because who wouldn’t want her as a teacher). It’s a WIP with only a couple of chapters out. 7/10 time to learn some real lessons, Granger ;)

Just a Brand features not only Bellatrix as a professor, but a magical soul mate bond between Bellatrix and Hermione that leads to much deliciousness. There’s a lot of chapters to this story but they’re pretty short. An updated and revised version can be found on a03 for those who like longer chapters. 7/10 Bellamione is branded on my soul. 

It Just Felt Right is another fic with Bellatrix as the professor. Hermione starts off hating her and then it evolves into liking Bellatrix. The fic leaves off before any real progress can be made so if anyone is up for reading an unfinished fic from 2012 then go for it. 6/10 for this story feels right but not write because it’s abandoned :(

CRIME AU 

Because there is never enough crime involved even with Bellatrix, these authors amp up the trouble and make it double. And gay. So very gay. 

Two Sides of the Same Coin where Bellatrix is basically an auror. It’s only five chapters and it hasn’t been updated in a long time but it’s an interesting concept worth checking out. 9/10 wish there were more sides to the coin. 

Murder Most Horrid A crime story, where Bellatrix is a magical cop and Hermione is a murder suspect. Bellatrix interrogates Hermione by banging her and then the two of them proceed to basically get married the day after. A bit ooc for Bellatrix but very in character if you consider this world not from the canon. -89/10 for how badly your vision will deteriorate if you try to read this all in one night. 

The Mysterious Department Technically Bellatrix and Hermione are both magical detectives and they go and solve crimes and shit while also possibly trying to prevent the world from ending. You know, just casual stuff. 10/10 for the perfect crime, would commit again. 

Darkness is Falling A story that has Hermione as an auror who replaces Bellatrix’s old partner. They butt heads, they solve cases, and naturally, begin to fall in love. 7/10 for this case is closed. 

Some Things Aren’t Seen Hermione investigates Bellatrix’s crimes and past and ends up over her head. There are two follow ups to this finished work, all in the same vein. It’s all a good bit of fun watching Hermione try to take on the criminal Lestrange. 7/10, no, this has no relation to the musical Wicked. 

SOUL MATE BOND 

In one way or another Bellatrix and Hermione have a special bond in between them that destines them to be together. Angst, love, friendship, all abound in this au type. Features a combination of other factors thrown in, but the stories put in here are largely advertised in the blurb as more focused on the bond. 

Lotus Flower Hermione finds out after Bellatrix’s death that they are bound together and that because Bellatrix is dead, Hermione is dying as a result too. This begs the question, will Hermione go back in time and save Bellatrix, or will she willingly submit to the bond’s curse? 8/10 I think we all know what Hermione chooses.

Our Mercurial Selves ever wonder what it would be like to have a murderer share your mind? In this one, Hermione and Bellatrix can communicate telepathically with each other, creating a bond that draws them together. Features evil schemes by Voldemort, a flying horse, and Narcissa beating the ever loving shit out of Bellatrix for even daring to breathe in Hermione’s direction. 9/10 will leave you with warm fuzzies for the Malfoy family before the ending crushes you. 

The House Ring Bellatrix sends Hermione a magical ring that engages them and basically makes them wives. Prophecies abound about how Bellamione is meant to be the one and only true pairing. 7/10 for that ring better come with diamonds.

Demons AU

As if Voldemort isn’t scary enough, there are demons and scary things in this au type that will leave you and Voldemort both calling for mommy. 

Unsteady Precipice technically also a time traveling fic, except Hermione ends up in an alternative universe. where she tries to change things from happening in the canon world like they did. But will it work? Who knows! Only a few chapters are out so it’s hard to tell where this story will go, but one things for sure, it’ll be good. 9/10 if you don’t pray after reading this the demons will get you. 

A Demon in the Mist is also about, gasp, demons! Dangerous things are afoot in this story and Hermione is caught in the middle of it all. It takes part in the same universe as the caught in time series by the same author, but with slight alterations. Unsure if the story will be finished as the author has contemplated leaving fanfic writing. 7/10 can you find the demon in the mist?

MAGICAL CREATURES AU

Technically a category, right? Let’s pretend it is, because there are some stories out there that pit our two ladies as other than human and it’s fun to read about it. 

As we Chase the Sun Very Black family centric and features Bellatrix as a big fluffy wolf. What’s not to love? Cuddles, and hair balls, and good times all around. 9/10 would tame that wolf. 

Sing to me Your Insanity in which Hermione and Bellatrix are both sirens and will basically die if they don’t do the ol’ frickity frack. This is a long story and the slowburn feels like hellburn but it’s worth the read. 56/10 but you will need earplugs so those sirens don’t seduce you too. 

Metamorphosis in which Bellatrix is also a wolf and doesn’t like being stuck with Hermione but gets used to it and basically they’re house wives of London and don’t know it. 8/10 for your mind with undergo metamorphosis from slightly obsessed with Bellamione to even more obsessed. 

This Poisoned Blood of Ours vampires, vampires everywhere! Two parts to this series and features a confused Bellatrix and a changing Hermione. 7/10 do you think vampires like steak rare?

Cursed Doll Pretty self explanatory title. Someone ends up as a doll and shenanigans ensue. Won’t say more because it’s only two chapters, but it’s well written and worth a read. 10/10 Chucky? Is that your sister? 

Liquid Measure these chapters are thicc boy. Only two chapters but such a good set up and everything. I hope the author is able to update at some point. 10/10 makes me thirsty for more!

My Demons in the Dark Hermione is a ghost. That’s it, that’s the plot. Boo/10 for this not so spooky spirit. 

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter eleven: after you've gone

word count: ~12.6k

rating: m

warnings: canon-typical religious blasphemy, though it's in full-force here with joseph so i wanted it to be noted in the warnings. there are mentions of self-harm, both past and implied presently, and they're not treated very lightly. elliot is having a hard time.

notes: there's a lot of moving parts in this so i apologize in advance if it feels a bit slow, but everything felt really important to include and i wanted to make sure nothing got left out. thank you so much to my beta @starcrier who literally proofed this beast with all of the love in the world.

i won't ramble on too much, but i did want to say that the reception for the last two chapters really made my whole heart just explode and i wanted to thank you all! what an incredible experience it is getting to write these two gigantic idiots. <3

“I saw her. Our mor.”

Helmi cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear, scribbling absently on the side of the file she’d continued nosing through once she’d gotten back to the bunker. Like this, she felt far from Kajsa—farther than she had in the longest time. Maybe since they had welcomed her into the Family.

“Did you?” She stretched back against the truck’s seat, feet kicked up on the dash as she scanned the page, going over her own notes. Starvation, classical condition. On animals and people? In the back seat of the truck, Peaches rumbled her discontent at lack of attention; Helmi reached back and scratched her ears until the rumble turned into what she recognized as a more contented purr.

“Yes. She is doing well. Her color is just as Ase said, you know. Perfectly balanced. Poor John—I can see his suffering.”

Helmi hmm’d, the thoughtfulness matching the patient rumble Peaches had rewarded her affection with.

“Is Deputy Pratt behaving?”

“I should hope so. He has no reason to have any loyalty to the Seeds, outside of fear.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. Helmi was sure, in the very marrow of her bones, that Kajsa was smiling.

“And what did you give him, Helmi? To make him loyal?”

She considered. “A more impressive fear.” And then: “Also, I said I wouldn’t kill him.”

“That is just a more impressive fear bundled up pretty, my heart.”

“Mm,” Helmi replied in agreement. Whatever the case, she thought that Pratt had more to gain from fucking the Seeds over than he did by fucking them over—and that’s why Kajsa entrusted this sort of thing to her and didn’t do it herself, after all. If it had been Kajsa here, eyeing Pratt like a piece of lunchmeat, she’d have him drugged to the gills and barely aware of what was going on. Not being of use.

It’s why we make a perfect pair, something inside of her said, joy shared, joy doubled.

“Don’t rest on your laurels.”

Sorrow shared, sorrow halved.

Helmi sighed. “I’m not.”

“Keep putting pressure. I want them squirming, hjärtat.”

“I will.” She paused, sitting up in the truck and glancing out at the remaining members of the Family. Those that hadn’t given themselves a swift, clean death. After Kian’s face was crushed in, Kajsa had gathered them all and said, It’s going to be harder, from here. If you feel you cannot do it, if you think that you do not have the strength to answer our calling, then it is your time. We love you.

It had been the time for many. Morale had been—and still was—low. Ase’s death first, gut-wrenching and tragic, and then Kian’s; worse than the last. Worse, because while he had been grieving, while he had been suffering, he had still been their second-in-command. Meant to be infallible, even more so than Ase. He had been meant to carry them into their next life, after It was appeased. Contented. After It had turned the world to winter.

Now, more than ever, with only a handful of them left to huddle around their fires and sleep in the backs of cars, and kiss and laugh and hug each other in the inky black night, they felt like a ship adrift at sea.

Kajsa’s voice hummed in her ear, plastic and metal vibrating where it lay trapped between her head and shoulder. Helmi’s gaze swept away from the remaining Family members and turned her gaze back to the file. The Seeds were deeply rooted in this place—the tendrils of a tree that might be dead at the trunk but stayed for many decades after, if it wasn’t ripped out at the base.

“Did you hear me, Helmi?”

“No,” she replied truthfully. “I was distracted.”

“I am coming back,” Kajsa reiterated patiently.

“The others will be happy.”

“And what about you? Will you be happy?”

Helmi paused. She closed the file, dropped it back onto the dashboard and cranked the seat back so that she could stretch a little, her eyes tracing the tinny, ancient ceiling of the truck she’d lifted from Eden’s Gate. She exhaled, once, and then held her breath; closed her eyes, felt the ache of it between her ribs.

“I sense before me a lost lamb.”

“Not lost,” Helmi replied, her lungs tight. “Just—thinking.”

“Must I divine the dark cloud over your soul myself?”

She allowed her body to take air back in. “I wonder,” she murmured, “if it will be enough to appease the Father.”

“Do you wonder,” Kajsa hummed, “or do you worry?”

A moment of silence stretched. And then, the rich, melodic timbre of the Hierophant’s voice came through again, idle and pulled snug against her ear, like Kajsa was really right there again to say the words against her skin: “What will you do, if Staci Pratt defects despite your Machiavellian threats of harm so great he should never consider to incur it?”

“I don’t know,” Helmi replied uneasily. “It would depend on if he brought mor and the interloper, or if he just—”

“The answer, hjärtat, is that you do not know, because it has not been revealed to you yet.” Despite the interruption, Kajsa’s voice was pleasant and serene. Ever since Ase’s death, she’d been more tempered—like she was playing a role, filling a void. Helmi almost missed her cruelty. Like it was a creature comfort. “There is no use in wondering, because we will never know before it is our time to. We want for much. Whether or not we are given it remains to be seen. Our Father is a most...”

Her voice trailed off. Helmi tried to think of what words Kajsa might use; stringent, perhaps, ambitious, or even enigmatic—

“Wretched god,” Kajsa finished, a grin in her voice. “It does so love to watch us toil, does It not?”

“Yes,” she answered after a moment, because wretched resonated somewhere in her soul, somewhere in the marrow of her bones, reminding her why this had felt like home ever in the first place. Wretched, to watch them suffer, to give them so little information and let them suffer wreck after wreck.

In front of her, the dark of the forest swelled, breathed, reminded her: failure was not an option. Theirs was not a benevolent, forgiving God, the kind who would forgive sin if one only asked—the Father was wrathful, was vengeful, and would make them suffer their insolence and their ineptitude.

“I should get going. I imagine our mor will not be far behind, thanks to your ingenuity, and I want to be in Hope County to welcome her.”

“I am,” Helmi blurted out after a second of hesitation, “happy, that you’re coming back.”

There was a pause on the other end; and then, a soft breath, where Helmi thought maybe Kajsa was smiling again.

“Ingenting under solen är beständigt, my heart.”

The call clicked. Only empty air and static, then, buzzing faintly in the ear, the words dead in her mouth before she’d had the chance to say them back.

Nothing under the sun is lasting.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Elliot was going to be sick. Nevermind the morning-after-dread of realizing she had caved in on her most basest animal desires—What, the man who’s perhaps lied to you the most tells you he’s never thought you’re crazy, and you let him fuck you? Come on, Elliot,—but listening to Pratt ramble nervously into the phone about how he didn’t realize everyone was gone, nobody stopped to look for him, nobody tried to call, he thought she had left too and she had, where was she? Was she okay?

“I’m fine,” she managed out. Guilt ripped through her sternum, burning hot and shameful. I’m fine, Pratt, don’t worry about me. Got well and truly railed last night, it’s fine. Oh, also, I’m going to have a baby. And I’m married. Don’t worry, you found out about the same time as me, just off a few weeks. “I’m at my mom’s.”

“In Georgia?”

“Yeah.” Elliot swallowed thickly. “Are you okay? You sound like shit.”

Pratt laughed uneasily on the other end of the line. “I’m with, uh—I’m with them.” He paused. “The Seeds. And their—the lawyer lady.”

“That doesn’t tell me if you’re okay,” she reiterated, more firmly.

He laughed again. “I’m on the phone with you, aren’t I?”

Frustrating. They might all be looming around him, waiting to hear what she was going to say. It was a trap, of course. Jacob or Joseph had done enough digging around in her past to find out they’d gone to school together, had gone to school dances, had basically dated—and they knew she’d evacuated the entirety of the Resistance otherwise. They were clearly laying a trap to get her to come back. But for what?

“Hey, um—” Staci cleared his throat. “Ell, there’s—a lot of bad stuff going on. There’s these people, and they’re—they’re just killing people, left and right, gutting them and sticking them up and—Jesus, they fucking split Miss Mabel open like a fish, and I’m—”

Oh, there it was; the sickness, the violent urge to throw up. The Family was supposed to be dead. They had been killing themselves off in pairs after Kian’s death, weren’t they? Elliot blinked rapidly, trying to calm the furious beating of her heart, the way it slammed against her rib cage and demanded penance.

Calloused fingers swept her hair to the side and squeezed at the juncture between her neck and shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. She closed her eyes tight, willing herself to accept it for what it was—John, comforting her, because even now he knew her well enough to see she was spiraling.

I can’t, is what she needed to say. I can’t come back, Staci, I can’t, not me and not my baby, my hands are already covered in blood I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—

“—I’m so fucking scared, Ell.” Pratt’s voice wobbled on the other end, hitting straight at the fresh welt of guilt in her chest, ripping and tearing at it.

I can’t—

“I don’t want to be alone—”

I’m sorry I can’t I’m sorry—

“—I’m sorry—”

“I’ll come,” she blurted out, her voice hoarse, the burn behind her eyes and in her nose a threat of oncoming tears. She couldn’t stand it—couldn’t bear to hear him like this, when this whole time he was supposed to have been safe. She’d let him down, and while she had a responsibility to herself, the responsibility to the others had always come first.

And, better still, was the tiny, tiny fragment of hope that the dark-haired woman with a mouth like broken glass would be left behind, too. The dog with the man’s face and the strands of her hair glinting between Its bloody teeth would stay here, in Weyfield. It would wait for her, but perhaps there would be some peace there, too.

It waits for you, It waits for us all, It will have you. As It gives, so too does It take.

“Tell them I’m coming back.” Elliot bit the words out through her teeth. “And tell them if I come back and you’re hurt, or dead, or—if there’s anything wrong with you, I’m going to fucking kill them. Okay?”

“No need,” came Jacob’s voice over the phone. “You’re on speaker, Deputy Honeysett. We’re well acquainted with your particular brand of mania.”

“Great,” she snapped, feeling a vicious flush spread through her cheeks despite the fact that she didn’t feel bad at all for what she’d said. “You thought I was fucking manic before? I had nothing to lose, then. Imagine how much worse I’ll make your life now—”

John’s hand squeezed again. This time, she shot him a venomous look over her shoulder and shrugged him off. Elliot knotted her fingers in Boomer’s fur and prompted again, “Is that clear?”

The eldest Seed sounded like he was smiling when he said, “Crystal, Deputy.”

“Good.” She paused. “And don’t fucking call me that. I’m not a deputy, anymore.”

“Sure thing, hellcat.”

“Pratt—”

Jacob’s voice came again: “Have a safe trip.”

The phone call beeped once, twice, three times, and then ended. The hard knot of dread in the pit of her stomach did not lessen; she hit the redial button, and it went straight to voicemail. Again, and again, and again, her hands shaking as she thought wait, I didn’t get to say goodbye, I didn’t get to promise I’d be there, I’m coming Pratt, I’m coming please don’t be worried, before she shoved the phone into John’s grip.

“Call him back,” she demanded, “make him pick up the phone—”

“Elliot,” he began, “if he turned the phone off, I can’t—”

“Fuck you!” she snapped, coming to a stand and raking her fingers through her hair. “You fucking knew they had Pratt, didn’t you? You knew that he was still trapped there and he didn’t get out, and you fucking left him there, so that you could pull me back if it didn’t go the way you wanted—”

John stood too, setting the phone on the bedside table and lifting his hands. The gesture was meant to calm and soothe, see my hands? Here they are, no threat here, but all it did was make her angrier, stoke a fire inside of her that had apparently lain dormant since she’d left Hope County.

Elliot smacked his hands down. “Don’t treat me like some fucking animal, John.”

“I’m not,” he defended quickly, dropping his hands all the way back to his sides when Boomer barked twice, sharp and accusatory, hackles lifting. “I didn’t know Pratt was still there. I thought the Resistance had got him out, and I didn’t bother asking.”

“You should have bothered—”

“I’m just as displeased as you are,” John interjected dryly, the dark coloring of his tone implying that he was—but for perhaps a different reason. It struck her that he might, in fact, be so displeased because he was aware of their history, on some level. It did feel a little gratifying to know that he was squirming for such an insignificant reason.

“You fuckhead,” she spit. “You put a fucking baby in me and you still have the insecurity of a middle school boy.”

“We both know,” he replied tartly, “that our baby is not in any way binding you to me, Elliot. And is it so shocking, considering that the thing that I want most in the world is for you to come home, and you fight me at every turn—”

“Hope County isn’t my home anymore—”

“—but Staci Pratt calls you and cries a little into the phone, and you’re jumping at the bit to go back?”

“Fuck. Off,” Elliot bit out between her teeth, face flushing. “Pratt is my friend, which is more than I can say for you.”

“Right,” John agreed, “because you let the person you hate fuck you.”

Her mouth clamped shut, biting and swallowing back a wad of venom she thought might make her sick if she let it out. There was too much of it, the things that she wanted to say—fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou, I fucking hate you, you make me sick, if anything is wrong with Pratt I’ll kill your brothers and then I’ll fucking kill you too—but she didn’t say any of it.

Instead, she said, “Get out. I’m getting changed and we’re leaving.”

John sighed, passing a hand over his face for a moment like maybe he regretted what he’d said. “We can’t.”

She felt her voice spike, near incredulous hysteria: “Pardon?”

“Old Father Time of the Job Ineptitude mentioned he had Federal agents showing up out of nowhere,” he snapped. The words had her stomach twisting; her first thought was a tiny spike of happiness at the idea of Cameron Burke, and then it was quickly doused by the sharp reminder that she’d stolen his gun and ran with it. Because he thought she was crazy. Because he was going to put her behind bars.

John continued, “He seemed to be implying it was somehow related to me showing up, and by proxy you, and if we up and leave—”

“It’ll make it look more suspicious,” she finished, feeling a little numb. “Okay, so—what? How long do we have to wait?”

He scratched his cheek, his eyes flickering absently over the duvet on the bed, like he was trying to map it out in his own head. No doubt, he was trying to operate on multiple timelines—the timeline of Not Raising Suspicion, and whatever timeline Joseph had given him.

Some things really did never change.

“After your mother’s Christmas party,” he ventured finally. “It’s not quite Christmas—could look enough like we’re sticking around for enough holiday cheer to be passable before leaving again. Pritchard’s clearly not unfamiliar with your mother’s...”

His voice trailed off. He looked to her as though asking for permission to say something critical; when Elliot remained stonefaced and immovable, he finished, “...temperament.”

“Nice save.”

“Well,” he replied, humble as ever. “Anyway, that probably wouldn’t rouse suspicion. If it is Burke, and your house isn’t getting stormed right now, I have to think he’s here on unofficial business. Otherwise, why wouldn’t they just come and bust the door down and grab you?”

Elliot hoped that was the case. She hoped this meant that Burke was just trying to find her, and was not hunting her down at the behest of the government. If there was one thing that Joseph had been right about amidst all his doomsday-saying and whatnot, it was that according to the news, there was a big chance the government had bigger things on their hands. Bigger concerns than a tiny town in Montana and its cult inhabitants.

“Get out,” she said again. “So I can change.”

“You—” John sucked in a little breath, stopping himself from what was inevitably going to be stirring another argument; he lifted his hands again, this time in surrender. “Alright, Ell. I said you’d get anything you want, I’ll give it to you.”

“Chop-chop.”

“I’m going. Mind if I pull some clothes on before I walk out into the house owned by your mother, where she has almost assuredly been sipping her vodka martini since four AM?”

She felt her eyes narrow. “Fine.”

Turning, she crossed the bedroom into the master bath and shut the door behind her, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes until fine webbing scattered across the dark of her eyelids. This was the last thing she needed—and it felt, surely, traitorous and awful to think it, to think, this is the last thing I need, Pratt needing rescuing, when the only reason she’d felt comfortable leaving Hope County in the first place was because she thought the only people who were left were cultists.

Elliot dropped her hands from her eyes, blinking a few times until her vision cleared. In the mirror—much as it had been since coming back from Hope County—stood a girl that she thought looked like a stranger. Blushed cheeks and kiss-reddened lips, her neck littered with love marks, the healthy glow blooming up from beneath the WRATH scar on her chest, exposed by her loosely cinched robe.

That’s not me, she thought, pulling absently on a strand of red hair and swallowing thickly. I’m not that girl.

Her face was softer than before, more lively color rising up around her eyes and cheeks and mouth. More of her freckles had come out. There was a tiny, tiny—almost imperceptible—slope to her tummy, now, too.

Not me, came the thought again, more distressed this time, her brows pulling together at the center of her forehead. That’s not me. I’m not that girl. Who are you, pretty girl? Not me.

The woman and her dark hair—dark dark dark, like an oil slick, looming in the corner of her mind. Her mouth red as pomegranate and stretched like broken glass.

I hear stress is bad for the baby.

A knock came at the door. Elliot blinked, feeling unwell and unsure of how long she’d been standing there, her hand having dropped to cup the slope of her stomach experimentally. Women did that, right? When they were pregnant? Did it make them feel closer to the baby? Did it make them feel more protected?

Did she feel safer?

“Ell,” John said, nudging the door open, “your mother is...”

Pulling away from the door, she cinched the robe tight and busied herself at the sink, turning the water on. As he stepped into the bathroom, she could see John was now fully-dressed, freshly-showered. She’d been standing in front of the mirror trying to recognize the person staring back at her long enough for him to do that, it seemed.

“That was a quick shower,” she said briskly, splashing her face and rubbing absently at her cheek. She could feel John’s eyes on her through the mirror, even though she refused to meet them.

“I’ve always preferred it that way,” he replied casually. And then: “Get distracted?”

Yes, she thought, but didn’t say, because then the things he’d said last night that had made her feel sane and normal wouldn’t mean anything anymore. John would have said I don’t think you’re crazy and he’d have to take it back, because if she told him there was a stranger standing in her mirror, he would think she was crazy.

“It’s weird,” is what Elliot offered after a moment, trying to find a way to be honest and redirect, “to see a baby bump. Even if it’s small.” She cleared her throat and fished her toothbrush out of the holder. Continuing briskly, she added, “And the scar. I spent a lot of time avoiding it.”

John’s expression had done that funny thing that she supposed was softening at her words. He stepped forward; the ghost of his fingers trailing her ribs over the robe made her skin prickle with goosebumps.

“I’m not done being mad at you,” she warned him, eyes flickering to meet his gaze through the mirror.

“I know,” he replied, tone agreeable. “I just—”

The brunette paused then, waiting for her to stop him before he smoothed the warmth of his palm over her hip, across the expanse of her abdomen. It was painfully intimate in a way that didn’t imply sex—intimate, in the way that she felt seen, that she could see the relief coloring the edges of his expression.

John pressed his mouth to the back of her shoulder. “Just missed you,” he murmured after a moment. “Getting to touch you. Even just like this. Especially just like this—”

Something panged sharp and unforgiving in her chest. “Well, don’t get used to it,” she replied tightly, brushing his hand away from the baby bump after letting it linger for a moment. “And I don’t remember inviting you in.”

“Your mother was asking after you,” John said, by way of explanation, looking pleased from their little moment. Fucker. “She wanted to know if you’d be drinking coffee this morning. I think her exact words were, ‘Mr. Seed, would you ask my daughter if she’s going to take the risk of drinking coffee this morning? I know she shouldn’t be, with her condition—’”

“Ugh.”

“‘—but since we’re going to be picking out her dress for the Christmas party today, I could make an exception—’”

“Fuck me,” she muttered, wetting her toothbrush and putting the toothpaste on it. “Ask her if she can make it extra strong.”

“I’m actually enjoying being out of your mother’s ire for a minute.”

Elliot rolled her eyes. “No coffee for me.”

“Got it.” John headed for the bathroom door, and then paused again, turning to look at her. “Ell,” he began, “I really didn’t know—you know, about Pratt.”

That pesky little flutter of something agonizingly sweet—softness—in her chest flared again.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” is what she said, before she turned the toothbrush on and started scrubbing her teeth. That seemed enough of an answer for John, for once, because he left and closed the door quietly behind him after deliberating.

The minutes, and hours, and days—well, day or two—until they got back to Hope County were going to be something close to agony. She could only hope they had taken her seriously when she told them that she’d better come back to a Pratt in one piece.

I don’t want to be alone. Pratt’s voice echoed hauntingly in her head. She thought she could remember the sound of voices in the background—a woman’s, at least. Faith? Or John’s friend, Isolde? Surely Jacob and Joseph were there listening to him call her, too. She’d been so fucking stupid to let them get to her.

No, not stupid. Not stupid to want Pratt to feel safe, and like someone was coming back for him.

I’m sorry, she thought tiredly, as though the words could somehow get to him. I’m sorry, that it’s me you have to wait for.

I’m sorry that I won’t be the person you remembered.

I’m sorry.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You did so well, Staci.”

Faith’s voice jarred him out of the weird pause in time he’d been marinating in. It had been just a few seconds, maybe—Jacob and Joseph were talking in low voices, the dark-haired woman standing at the point of their little triangle with her arms crossed and her brows furrowed—that his brain had shut off, the distress in Elliot’s voice echoing eerily in his head. She’d sounded so upset. He wouldn’t have called, wouldn’t have started to ask her to come back, if he’d known how much she didn’t want to.

But that wasn’t true, either. He would have called, because Helmi had said, Either the Seeds are going to drag her back by her hair kicking and screaming, and eventually kill her, or she comes back and we keep her safe.

‘Safe’ had been the keyword there. He didn’t know how much he could take the woman at her word, but considering everything—well, it was better than trying to take the Seeds at their word.

Faith’s hand touched the back of his, startling him into a tiny jump. He cleared his throat. “Um—I wasn’t...Acting.”

“Still,” she replied sweetly, “I know it must have been hard.”

She was so polished—skin all dusted silver and moonlike, flushed with a little high color in her cheeks, her blonde hair tumbling around her face loosely. In the chapel, the air was tepid at best, and frigid at worst, keeping a little pink in everyone’s faces.

It was strange to look at her now. Her hands were soft; her skin unblemished. Just hours ago, he’d been sitting in the car, noticing the same kinds of details about Helmi—about how human she looked, hand slung over a steering wheel, her cracked phone plugged into the truck’s stereo and her chipped nail polish and the scars and bruises littering her knuckles. The way she’d shot him a toothy, wolfish grin as she cranked the volume up and said, What, Staci Pratt, you don’t like Blue Öyster Cult either?

In comparison, Faith didn’t feel human at all. She felt like a dream.

“Can—” Pratt came to a stand, rubbing his palms on the tops of his thighs. “Can I go? Lay down, or something?”

Three pairs of eyes snapped to him. The dark-haired woman, who Jacob kept referring to as Sol, completely ignored his question and looked at the redhead to say, “Has someone checked him for head trauma?”

“I’m not—concussed!” Pratt snapped, his voice wobbling. “I’m just tired.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He looked like maybe he wanted to say something, and then reconsidered, saying, “Dr. Hale will take a look at you and then sure, Peaches, you can rest.”

It took every ounce of his self-control to not tell Jacob to stop calling him that. He had to remember that as far as they were concerned, he hadn’t been taken in by the “other side”, he’d been sitting scared and meek like a good boy at the compound.

Pratt’s eyes darted, catching sight of the woman that Jacob gestured to with a free hand. Right. The Fall’s End vet. She’d been here for what—a little over a year? He couldn’t tell if she was being held captive by Eden’s Gate or if she was there by her own volition, though the few times he’d run into her before she’d seemed like a pretty even-keel person. Didn’t she have like, two degrees or something? What was she doing here?

He made his way to the back of the church, meeting the curly-haired blonde halfway. Definitely looked too clean to be a cultist. “You’re not a people doctor, right?” he asked uneasily, watching as her head cocked to the side and her mouth quirked in a bit of amusement.

“No, Mr. Pratt, I am not a people doctor.” She fell into step beside him, opening the chapel door for him. “But I do have first aid training, which I think is about as good as you’re going to get around these parts.”

“I didn’t get a concussion.”

“That’s good. When was the last time you ate?”

His mouth twisted in a frown, trailing after through the snow as the cold began to sink into his bones. She seemed awfully confident moving around the compound, if she wasn’t part of the cult. But if she was, what was she doing here? How did—?

Pain bloomed behind his eyes, a fresh headache sinking into his nerves. Too much. It was too much confusion, about Elliot (pregnant? And John Seed was with her?) and about the Family and about all of these—these people that he didn’t really recognize hanging around the Seeds. And the compound was so quiet. Where was everyone? Had the Family really taken that many of Eden’s Gate out?

“Mr. Pratt?”

The woman opened a door into a bunkhouse that glowed with golden light from within and radiated heat. Two long-haired shepherds lay on the floor at the foot of the bed, lifting long faces and peering at him with dark eyes. He stepped inside and cleared his throat.

“Uh, a day, maybe,” he replied after a minute. Taking a seat when she gestured for him to, he shifted uncomfortably as she set a first aid kid on the cushion beside him and pulled one of the wooden chairs up in front of him.

“And slept?” She blew a curl out of her face and opened the kit, fishing around to find some alcohol wipes and Neosporin. He guessed he was a bit worse for wear than he’d thought, initially; not that he’d been taking great care of himself, even when it had just been him and Dani. She’d encouraged him to stay high, not stay better.

Fuck, I’m such an idiot.

He let out a little hiss when she pressed one of the alcohol wipes to a cut on his cheek.

“The same,” he replied, reaching up and brushing her hand away. “What—what are you doing here, doctor?”

“Arden is fine.” She sat back, regarding him curiously. “I’m cleaning that cut, Mr. Pratt. It looks agitated.”

“No, I—” Pratt let out a little breath. “I mean here. In the compound.”

Arden stared at him for a moment, like she didn’t understand why he was asking her that question. She lifted her hand and arched a brow inquisitively; when he nodded shortly, she leaned forward again, balancing her free hand on his shoulder and using the other to gently dab at the cut.

“I’ve spent the last month or so holed up in my house,” she explained to him. “Me, and the dogs, I mean.”

A little smile ghosted over her lips, and despite himself, Pratt felt a wry smile tugging at his own. It was difficult not to feel relaxed, when Arden moved with so much surety. In the glow of the radiators ticking away and the warm yellow light, especially.

“Mostly reading. They had assigned one of the boys to me—Santiago. I think he’s John’s man. He doesn’t strike me as one of Joseph or Faith’s.”

Pratt made a little noise of agreement, because he knew exactly what she was talking about. She dropped the alcohol wipes to the side and reached over for the Neosporin, dabbing some onto her finger and then reaching back up to resume her work.

“Sorry,” he said after a moment. “That you got—stuck, I mean. Here.”

“Oh, you don’t need to apologize, Mr. Pratt.”

“I feel partially responsible,” he admitted, feeling some of the tension flee his shoulders. “You know, being law enforcement and all—”

“Hold still, please.”

“Sorry,” he said again. “I guess what I mean is—sometimes it feels like a real failing on our part. All of those people, I...”

He paused, and Arden leaned back, giving him a pat on the knee. “That’s alright, Mr. Pratt,” and her voice bloomed with comfort. “Where was I?”

“Up at your house, with the dogs and maybe one of John’s men.”

“Right. I wasn’t allowed to leave, you know, on account of the—” She gestured with an elegant hand. “Cult running amok.”

He nodded. “Cult number two.”

Arden smiled, and continued, “And then just a few days ago, after one of them started killing those folks in Fall’s End, Jacob came up to get me.”

The way she said it made him feel, a little uneasily, that maybe he was misreading it. Jacob came up to get me did not sound like Jacob came to pick me up because I’m his prisoner.

And then she said, “He was worried, you know. Only having a radio up there. I know how to use a gun, but I’d prefer not to, if I don’t have to, and—”

“Sorry,” he blurted out, “but are you—”

She blinked light eyes at him, almost owlishly, like she didn’t understand the question. “Am I...?”

“With? Them?” Pratt gestured towards where the chapel lay, beyond the bunkhouse walls. “The—Eden’s Gate?”

“Oh!” Arden laughed, almost sheepishly; he felt a nervous little laugh bubbling out of him too, almost hoping for the relief of her assuring him that she was, in fact, not in league with the Darwinian psycho that had spent the last few months mindfucking every resident he could get his hands on.

She came to a stand and pulled a bottle of ibuprofen and a granola bar out of the kit, dropping them in his hand.

“Eat the bar before you take the ibuprofen,” she told him, “or it’ll—well, I’m sure you know. Upset stomach, and all that. Do you want to take a shower?”

Pratt’s fingers curled around the ibuprofen bottle. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m sorry,” Arden replied, not sounding very sorry at all, “I guess I just thought it a bit silly. Who else would I be “with”?”

His stomach somersaulted, sinking viciously. Suddenly, the granola bar—which had certainly been sitting in the kit for who knew how long—looked even less appetizing than before. While his vision swam for a second, the woman carried on conversationally, as though she had not just revealed herself to—

Well, to be in league with the Darwinian psycho that had spent the last few months mindfucking every resident he could get his hands on.

“But—they think the world is ending,” Pratt blurted out, lifting his eyes to look at her finally. “And—doctor, all the people they killed, and—”

“Don’t strain yourself, Mr. Pratt. You’ve been under quite a bit of duress as of late, I think, and it would be best to try and keep those stress levels down.” She moved to the small pantry beside the bathroom, shuffling around and producing a few towels, leaning into the bathroom to set them on the counter. “Though, you do bring up a funny point—have you been listening to the news? I suppose you haven’t. I remember listening to the news before all of this business went down and thinking that the world had ended a long time ago. We were just a bit behind, all the way out here. Do you want to take a shower?”

Blinking furiously, Pratt searched his brain for the answer; he muddled through the disappointment raking down his spine, the delicate little hope that had been fostered at the prospect of finding someone who was kind and not under the Seeds’ thumb being crushed beneath the weight of the reality of his situation.

“Yes please,” he managed out, his voice hoarse.

“Alright. Eat that bar first, so you don’t pass out in the hot water. And Mr. Pratt?”

“Y—” He had clumsily ripped open the granola bar and shoved half into his mouth, the fear of being seen as disobedient when Jacob Seed was within radius flickering like a wildfire through his body. He swallowed thickly, the dry food feeling like it was sticking to the inside of his mouth. “Um, yes?”

Her expression colored sympathetic, Arden reached down and fished a water bottle out of the case, dropping it in his hand.

“The honorific isn’t necessary,” she told him. “Remember, Arden is just fine.”

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbled. “I mean—Arden.”

She smiled, this time with teeth. “Good. You holler if you need me.”

I won’t, he thought, even though she was probably preferable to anyone else coming to his rescue.

Maybe he really would rather be dead.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Scarlet insisted that John stay at the house while they went to the boutique. It was all a big show of his mother-in-law attempting, he thought, to be polite, though she failed miserably at it; and as much as John wanted to argue that it would probably be best if he came along—considering their late-night visitor—he could tell when a battle was a lost one, and when it wasn’t.

“Do you think you can do that, Mr. Seed?” she asked, pulling the objectively ostentatious fur coat around her shoulders and buttoning it. “Remain in my home for a few hours, without causing me any problems?”

He said, “I think I can certainly give it a shot,” to which the blonde rolled her eyes.

“Please do more than that.”

“Rest assured, I am fully capable of behaving myself, Mrs. Honeysett.”

He couldn’t wait to be rid of her. Every second he spent in her presence, being reminded of how little she liked him given how much she didn’t know about him—or care to get to know about him, anyway—he thought, I cannot fucking wait to get back to Hope County and the resurgence of the Family. I cannot wait until that is my only fucking problem. Anyone else and she would have been thoroughly cleansed; clearly, Wrath ran in the family. Just the thought of it made his fingers itch.

Elliot had looked tired already, standing at the door and letting her mother go first. As soon as Scarlet was out the door, carefully picking her way down the front steps, John’s hand went to Ell’s hip; her lashes fluttered at the contact, but she didn’t jerk away; only tensed, considering the act of balking and pulling away from him but not yet committing. So there had been progress.

Her free hand came to his shoulder, resting there uncertainly. “Please don’t do anything to my mother’s house.”

“As much as I would love to, I will refrain from my wretched impulses. I am a man of God, after all.” He grimaced. “Do you think she’ll like me more if things are immaculate?”

“Ha-ha. She certainly will not.” She paused, letting out a little breath. “Okay. Back in an hour.”

He felt a smile tug at his mouth. “Ambitious.” His hand drifted to the small of her back, and he said, “Ell, before you go—”

“John, I don’t—”

Elliot turned to look at him at the same time that he stepped forward, closing what little distance there was and rapidly; she blinked, and her eyes flickered to his mouth instinctively, like she was expecting it—like she’d gotten used to the affection when he closed in on her like that. The gesture sent a little thrill through his stomach.

Mine.

“Don’t let her stress you out,” John murmured, keeping his voice low between just the two of them. “You’ll look good in whatever you pick.”

She turned her face away, cheeks going pink. “What’s this, huh? Still trying to make up for being a complete fuckhead this morning?”

He grinned. “You really have gotten brattier.”

“Goodbye, John,” she said, and then he leaned in and kissed her; the connection made every part of him sigh, collectively, as though he’d just been waiting for it.

Waiting for her.

Yes yes yes, it all said when she didn’t pull away, his fingers curling into the fabric of her sweater at the small of her back as her hand slipped from his shoulder to his chest, yes, mine all mine.

Elliot did pull back after a moment, putting a bit of space between them—though it seemed more to catch her breath than anything else. She only pulled back enough for their eyes to meet; John’s gaze darted downward, watching pearly teeth as they tugged at her lower lip, worrying it there for a moment.

“To answer your question,” he continued as casually as he could, “that’s not how I intend on making that up to you.”

“So you agree?” Elliot asked. Her voice came out evenly, despite the color blooming underneath the freckles on her cheeks. “You were being a complete fuckhead this morning?”

“I did so miss our banter.”

“Bunny,” Scarlet called impatiently from the driveway, “the boutique is going to get crowded if we don’t get there when it opens.”

“I’m coming!” Her gaze darted back to him. “The best way to make it up to me would be to say the words out loud,” Elliot informed him as she inched toward the door. “So that baby can hear them, too. At least you’ll have been more honest around our child than with me, if we’re keeping a running tally, and we should—”

He tugged her back from the doorway again, lighter, more playful as he went in to kiss her a second time; but she pulled back, just out of his reach, hand planted firmly on his chest.

Elliot said, “I told you not to get used to it.”

“I’m not,” he answered lightly, “just taking what I can get.”

“Elliot.”

“Coming!” Elliot cinched her coat up more snug, closer to her throat and where the scar lay expertly over her sternum, and snagged the keys off of the counter to the beat-up Honda Civic John had lifted from Eden’s Gate. Right. He couldn’t wait to hear Scarlet’s input on that car ride.

The redhead made it down two steps before she paused, turning and looking at John and going, “Um, bye,” in a tone that was more sheepish than he anticipated; it was almost shy, and it caught him so off-guard that he didn’t even get the chance to muster a response before she was making her way across the snowy driveway.

“Drive safe,” John called, once he’d gathered his senses a bit more. Elliot glanced at him over her shoulder and then ducked into the car, closing the door and beginning to pull her way down the drive. He waited until they’d turned onto the freshly plowed road before he turned back into the house and closed the front door behind him.

Boomer had seated himself in front of the window, letting out a little whine as his tail swept along the floor.

“C’mon, furry sentinel,” he sighed, not risking putting his hand within biting reach. “Just you and me today.”

The Heeler whined again, apparently thoroughly displeased at this news, and stayed rooted at the window to watch for his girl to come home.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he hit the redial button on the number they’d gotten a call from that morning and waited as the phone rang, pacing around the polished living room. It rang enough times as he idly adjusted glasses on a bar cart that he thought for certain no one would pick up—and then the phone clicked, and a warm voice came through.

“Hi, John.”

He blinked in surprise. “Hello, Faith. How’d you get this phone?”

“Isolde passed it to me when she saw your call. She wanted me to tell you that she’s too busy to talk to you.”

A wry smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Sounds like everything’s operating as normal, then.”

“I suppose.” Faith paused. “Are you coming home soon?”

“I am.”

“With Elliot?”

“Yes, she—” John cleared his throat and made an effort to sound as unbothered as possible. “She’s very concerned about Deputy Pratt’s well-being.”

“We’re taking good care of him. Will you tell her that? Better than he’d be getting out there, anyway,” and she said the word out there with such a surprising amount of venom that John realized he’d nearly forgotten about the Family’s reappearance. Well, there couldn’t be that many of them left, could there?

And then Faith said, “A lot of us are dead, John.”

His hand went to the mantle for a little support as he leaned against it. There was a bit of a bite to Faith’s voice—almost accusatory. A lot of us are dead, she said, as he stood in the plush home of his mother-in-law while they went dress shopping for a Christmas party. It occurred to him that none of his siblings—nor Isolde—were aware of what they’d been dealing with the last couple of days; they must have felt like he was getting off easy.

“The Father says we only have a little while longer,” she continued, “and that if we can’t fix this in time, we won’t wait for you. He’s been alone, a lot. Talking to God. Praying for more time, for you.”

The words made his stomach wrench, a little. He would have felt worse if he didn’t know already that there was an exit plan in place, one that Elliot was already on board for. “We’re only here for another day, and then we’re leaving” John replied. “The sheriff mentioned some—Federal agents. I don’t want to rouse suspicion and bring them down on us again.”

“Do you think it’s Burke?”

“Maybe.” He pressed his forehead against the stone mantle. “Probably. No one’s come storming in yet.”

“I hope it’s him. I hope he follows you all the way back here.” And then, darker: “He has a lot to apologize for.”

John made a low noise of agreement. It felt good to have a conversation with someone who seemed to be on the same side as him, for once—no bickering with Scarlet, no bickering with Elliot, and no bickering with Isolde. As of late, it seemed he was only capable of incurring arguments; though that did seem to be changing quickly with his wife.

“We’re having a service soon. Did you want me to tell Joseph anything?”

“Ah, no, that’s alright. I just wanted to let you know we had a plan.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“No,” John said again, more quickly and with a bout of unease sprinting up his spine. “No, that’s alright. I’ll let you go. We’ll be home soon, okay?”

“Alright.” Faith’s voice lightened when she added, “Tell Elliot I said hello.”

Bad idea, he thought, but said, “Of course,” and hit the end call button. It wasn’t until his entire body relaxed that he realized he’d been fully tensed, waiting for some kind of verbal blow—and though there had been a few, he felt...

Fine.

I feel fine.

It was fine. Everything was fine. Joseph was praying for more time for them. They’d make it back without a hitch. And then, when the world ended, and took the remainder of the Family with them—

Well, that would be all the better.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“My children.”

The heaters rattled, clicking in the lukewarm air in a steady, mechanical heartbeat. Candles lit throughout the chapel drenched the members of Eden’s Gate in a strange, golden glow, and as Joseph’s voice carried all the way to the back where Staci sat between Jacob and Arden. He could see in the front row sat Faith and the dark-haired woman—who he’d come to understand was Isolde Khan, John’s old business partner—and there was a moment where Joseph’s eyes fixed on her before they lifted back to the congregation.

“God has truly been testing us,” the man continued, pacing away from the altar the front, hands folded behind him. “As you know, I have spent a lot of time in silence and solitude so that I might be the most open to receiving from Him. For the longest time, I thought—had we done something wrong? Had I led us astray? Were we being punished?”

An uneasy murmur rippled throughout the crowd. In the front, Pratt could see Isolde writing something down in a notebook; he wished he was closer, so he could see what it was—what was so interesting that she was taking notes now, of all times? What could she possibly be doing?

Preparing for the worst-case scenario, he thought idly, shifting in his seat. Jacob’s eyes cut over to him and he cleared his throat. The shower had done nothing to ease his nerves.

“But I’ll tell you—devout, and loyal, we have not been left to the wayside.” Joseph stopped, pressing a hand onto a woman’s shoulder, squeezing. “I have heard His voice. I have received His word. We are not only followers of God’s word—we are His soldiers.”

The noise that passed through the congregation this time was brighter, agreements—it must have felt good. Not just passive sheep, to be shepherded; soldiers. Capable of violence. And they were.

“We are His warriors.”

The woman Joseph’s hand was on was getting teary-eyed, and when he departed from her to sidle his way down the aisle, she all but collapsed in on herself, folding in half to bury her face in her hands. Another attestation of acknowledgment rippled around him, louder.

“This world is a wretched, vile machine, taking in and spitting out sin, flooding our garden with locusts,” the Prophet continued, his voice lifting in volume. “We are, my children, the only people who have the great fortune of seeing this—of knowing what no one else in the world seems capable of understanding. God has told me—”

Sick, Pratt thought dizzily, I’m going to be sick.

“—that a life of bliss awaits us, if we can only...”

Joseph paused, as though he needed to look for the words, as though he hadn’t been reciting this all day in preparation for the sermon; Pratt knew that he must, the assured cadence of his voice coming so firmly that there was no way it wasn’t rehearsed.

“...look past the dread, and the fear,” he continued earnestly, allowing his hand to be taken by another member, “because fear is the language of the Devil—if we can look past it, and dedicate ourselves fully to His cause, there is only happiness and serenity waiting for us on the other side of this.”

“How do we do it, Father?” a man to the other side of Jacob cried out, his voice a panicked fever-pitch. “How do we show Him we’re devoted?”

Joseph’s head turned. His gaze landed on Pratt, lingering before lifting to the congregant. “We’ve got to stop the machine.”

Optimism flooded the crowd. An easy solution. Stop the machine, like it was nothing. Like they weren’t dealing with a group of people who killed as easily as they did.

“Throw your bodies upon the gears, upon the wheels, upon all the apparatus,” Joseph intoned dutifully, pacing back toward the front. “Whatever it takes to bring the machine to a grinding halt. We can no longer passively take part in the End—we are warriors of God, and our divine right is not instinctively endowed. It is earned. And we will show that we have earned it by exterminating these interlopers invading our garden.”

Pratt’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Eden’s Gate members came to a stand around him; loomed in his vision; eclipsed what little murky light reached him. Cheers and applause rolling around in his head. He thought for sure he’d heard this all somewhere, before—

Oh, yes. And you've got to indicate to the people who run it, to the people who own it, that unless you're free, the machine will be prevented from working at all! The irony of Joseph lifting lines from an activist’s speech was not lost on him.

A heavy hand gripped the collar of his shirt, hauling him to his feet. “Stand up,” Jacob muttered. “Good posture’s important.”

He steadied himself on the pew ahead of him. Amidst the chatter of the congregation, eventually quieted down by Joseph’s patience at the front of the chapel, he could hear renewed excitement. More life had been breathed into the peggies than he’d seen in a long time—well, considering that he’d only been here roughly a day, and the whole place felt like a ghost town even now, that was saying something.

“Please,” Joseph called lightly, “join me in prayer.”

Heads bowed. Pratt let his chin drop to his chest, but his eyes didn’t close; his gaze darted to his right, where Arden stood, hands clasped politely in front of her. Her head did not bow for prayer.

He was only vaguely aware of the words coming out of Joseph’s mouth, redirecting his eyes back to the floorboards beneath his worn shoes. Lord, we pray that you might show us guidance and wisdom in these uncertain times; show us how to be most like you, for only you are perfect...

Elliot was going to come back to this. She was going to come back to this, and he was going to have to figure out how to get her out of here without any of the Seeds noticing. Helmi had said, meet me out back, by the river, in three nights, but he couldn’t keep track. Had it been one night? Two? Less than one?

“I am your Father,” Joseph was saying. “You are my Children. Together, and only together, will we march through the Gates of Eden.”

A rousing amen echoed around him. They milled about, chatting excitedly—perhaps delighted to have a focus for their ire, for their agitation. The members of Eden’s Gate looked worse than Pratt remembered. Dirtier. Thinner. More exhausted. He thought that it must be nice to have a purpose—

Fuck me, not that shit again.

He filed out of the row behind Arden, and with Jacob behind him, following her to the front where Isolde and Joseph stood. They were speaking in low tones, bundled close together; she tapped her ten against the front of her notepad in what looked like an agitated tick, but he couldn’t hear what it was she was saying. By the time they were close that he might have heard, Joseph lifted his head from where he’d bent a little to speak closely and looked at him, smiling.

“It was nice to see your face in the crowd this day, Deputy Pratt,” he said, his voice warm. “Did you enjoy the sermon?”

Pratt opened his mouth, and then closed it. He didn’t want to play this game.

“Go on, Peaches,” Jacob prompted, clapping his shoulder.

The nickname sparked something angry inside of him, like dragging a match against the sandpaper side of the box. If there’s anything wrong with you, I’m going to kill them, Elliot had said.

Pratt turned his gaze to Joseph. “I thought the Mario Savio part was a bit much.”

A surprised, abrupt laugh barked out of Jacob. Joseph’s expression remained flat and serene. In fact, the only person who seemed to have any negative opinion about his words was Isolde, narrowing her eyes as she turned to look at him fully.

“We’re not exactly looking to hit notes with the intellectuals in the crowd, Deputy Pratt,” she informed him coolly. “They don’t care who said it first. They care who said it better.”

“Y—” Pratt swallowed. “Okay, well—”

“‘Okay, well’ shut the fuck up,” she snapped. “Or I’ll have Jacob take you out back and put you down like Old Yeller.”

“You can’t,” he protested quickly, “Elliot said—”

“Do you think I care in the least what some woman five states away said?” Isolde cut over him quickly, the elegant, soft roll of her accent a strange and unsettling juxtaposition to her words. “I’m getting this ship in fit fucking order, and that means I don’t need you inspiring dissent. Anyone with an opinion that is less than glowing, radiant, gorgeous—they get taken care of, whatever that means. Got it?”

Pratt closed his mouth tightly, until the pressure was beginning to build between his molars. I just have to make it until Elliot gets here, and then—and then I’ll—then I can get—

He took in a little breath. “Yes.”

“Peachy.” Isolde flashed a smile that was all-too-saccharine, and then turned to Joseph. “Let’s sit.”

“Of course.”

They departed to a pew just to the left of them. Jacob was grinning at him, wolfish.

“Thought about telling you she wrote it,” he said, “but that was much more entertaining.”

“You look pale, Staci,” added Arden, her voice light as it redirected from Jacob’s apparent joy at his suffering. “Maybe you should go lay down. I don’t want you straining any of those injuries.”

Okay, he thought, and maybe the words came out of him but he couldn’t tell; he couldn’t tell anymore, but he did want to go lay down. Lay down, and close his eyes, and sleep until Elliot got back.

He’d never been happier at the prospect of seeing an ex-girlfriend.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When they arrived at the boutique, Sylvia was standing outside, bouncing on the balls of her feet in what Elliot could only assume was an attempt to get warm. It was difficult, to focus on something as inane and arbitrary as dress shopping when she knew that Pratt was back in Hope County, dealing with God-knew-what the Seeds were throwing at him.

Well, the Seeds. And more. The Family, who were supposed to be dead, and—

I hear stress is bad for the baby. A familiar accent, wasn’t it?

“Well, are you just gonna sit in there all day or what?” her mother asked, having stepped out of the passenger side.

“Did you invite Sylvia?”

Scarlet sighed. “I thought it might be nice, for you.”

It was an unexpectedly sincere gesture on her mother’s part. She swallowed a thick emotion down, clearing her throat and managing out, “It—is, mama, thank you,” before she got out of the car and took the keys with her, heading towards the front doors of the main street store.

“Howdy, Freckles!” Sylvia greeted her warmly, throwing her arms around her in a tight hug. “Been a few. Wyatt’s still got your Jeep, he’s been runnin’ it a few minutes a day to make sure the battery doesn’t go bad.” She smiled brightly, turning to Elliot’s mother. “Mrs. Honeysett, you look mighty lovely.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Sylvia tugged the door to the boutique open, ushering them inside so that she could trail in after. The inside of the store was toasty warm, making Elliot regret having worn a scarf, but it was too late now—the coat and scarf combination were doing the work to keep her scar covered.

“I just love this place,” Scarlet sighed, shrugging out of her coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. “What do you think, Elliot? Maybe something blue. I’d put you in green, but with that red hair, you’d look like a Christmas ornament. Blue’s a nice winter color—very fashionable.”

“Sure, mama,” Elliot replied, brushing her fingers along the silk of one of the dresses. The last time she’d been in anything that blue and nice had been back in Hope County. At her “baptism”. The same one Burke had been dragged to, the same one that John had held her under for just a little too long for, maybe distracted by the Marshal’s arrival back then.

“Psst.” The sound of Via’s voice caught her attention, pulling her from the waking memory. The blonde had pulled what appeared to be the most atrocious Christmas gown that could have been looked at off of the rack, holding it up and lifting her eyebrows as Scarlet chatted enthusiastically with the store’s saleswoman.

“Stop it,” Elliot said, fighting back a smile. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, dead serious, Freckles.”

“It has mistletoe on it, Via.”

“How else am I supposed to fetch a husband, if not by readily-accessible entrapment?”

Well, she thought a little dryly, that is how John got a wife.

It was odd, to think of the moment with anything less than hostility—to have come to a point where there were things more pressing than a marriage that, in the end, might not matter anyway. John had said that he knew the baby didn’t mean she’d take him back; had acknowledged there was no guarantee. For once, he’d shown up in her life with every intention laid bare for her to see.

Maybe not every intention. But she’d root them all out, eventually, and pretend like it hadn’t become something of a game, to catch John in a lie and watch him squirm.

She let the boutique’s owner show her around, clearly making quite a show for her mother, and politely turned down any suggestions for a deep v or off-the-shoulder type of garment. Sylvia had picked out a few; most blue, some blush, a few red, and then loaded some into Elliot’s arms.

“Try ‘em on!” she chirped. “Yes, even the green ones. Maybe your mama doesn’t want an Elliot Christmas ornament, but I do.”

Elliot heaved a sigh, though it was only half-sincere—anything delivered with Sylvia’s bright, cheery smile, she was hard-pressed to feel anything less than good about. Maybe that was dangerous, to be so comfortable with someone.

Or maybe, she thought, closing the dressing room door behind her, that’s just how having friends are. You remember what that was like.

She did. As she undressed and zipped the back of one of the red dresses Sylvia had selected—thoughtfully aware of the fact that she’d want most of her chest covered—she regarded herself in the mirror. There was that stranger again, flushed cheeks and bright eyes staring back at her. A familiar nose shape, a familiar slope of her cheekbones—but the rest of her. Where had she gone?

With one hand she pushed the door open, the other one lifting the back train of the dress as little as she walked out. A grimace had planted itself on her face, even despite Sylvia’s elaborate applause at her appearance.

“Oh, bunny, you look darling,” her mother sighed, having turned to take a look. “What’s the matter? You don’t like it?”

“Not big on the sparkles,” she admitted.

“I like them. You’ve always looked good in red, though. That fair complexion of your father’s.”

Sylvia grinned. “Try on a green one. I wanna imagine how you’ll look on my tree!”

Elliot stuck her tongue out at the blonde, turning around and scurrying back into the changing room. There were a few more dresses—even a green one—that were in the running, but eventually, she’d settled on a floor-length piece, dark blue velvet and halter-topped to get the most sternum coverage. When she’d redressed and rejoined the group outside, her mother was beaming as she gossiped with the boutique owner.

“Elliot’s quite modest,” her mother said conversationally, “and she’s already married, you know.”

“Thank you, mother,” Elliot sighed, a little smile fighting its way onto her face.

“Whatever are you still wearing your coat for? Your face is all red.”

“I’m—” She paused, swallowing. “Still cold.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Cold? It’s eighty degrees in here. And your face is all red.”

Sylvia had glanced up from across the store, neck-deep in dresses of a warmer shade. Elliot could feel the eyes on her—her friend, her mother, the boutique owner—and she cleared her throat and tugged absently at the tag on the dress.

“It’s fine,” she said after a minute.

“Well, at least take your scarf off.”

“I think it’s a lovely scarf,” the owner tried, a little helplessly.

“Mother, it’s—I’m fine—”

But her mother moved too quickly for her to realize what was happening; her mother’s hand unwound the scarf with expert ease, and then froze, her eyes fixed on what Elliot thought assuredly was the little of her WRATH scar, revealed.

Her stomach rolled. Heat flooded her body, worse than before—it was the kind of sticky-wet heat that came with the threat of throwing up, the kind that crept up the spine and gripped by the nape of the neck. Elliot felt her lashes flutter; she dropped the dress abruptly and yanked the scarf out of her mother’s hands to wind it securely around her neck again. The boutique owner had quickly turned to the clothing rack, as though something very emergent had occurred on the inanimate objects.

Stupid. She was so stupid. She should have just worn a sweater. She shouldn’t have looked at her scar that morning and thought, maybe it is something to love, she shouldn’t have ever risked the chance that her mother would see it, stupidstupidstupid—

“My God,” Scarlet said tightly, the tone of her voice washing Elliot with shame. “What did you do?”

I’m sorry, she wanted to say, automatically. Mama, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m not good anymore, I’m not—

“Phew, I sure am dressed-out,” Sylvia announced, having come over. “I’ll have to go home and weigh my options. Ell, you wanna head outside for some air?”

“I think that’s best,” her mother replied curtly, before Elliot could even think to formulate a sentence. “I’ll finish up in here.”

She thought about trying to say something—trying to explain, maybe, what it was that had happened. But how could she? Her mother had suffered through the years she’d inflicted pain on herself, after daddy and after Mason, and she had told her mother she was better, now. Healed. Good. What could she say, to make it alright?

Because there was no world where she could say, I didn’t want it, and mean it.

Via’s hand fit snugly in hers, tugging her lightly out through the front door of the boutique onto the street. It wasn’t until she took in a lungful of cold, dry air that she realized she’d been holding her breath; her lungs ached, her head swimming, and she was gripping Via’s hand too tightly.

“Hey,” Sylvia said softly, “s’okay.”

It’s not, she thought miserably, it’s not okay, I’m not okay, I want to go—

Where? Where could she go?

I want—

Nowhere? Anywhere?

—to go—

“Home,” she managed out unsteadily, “I should go home—”

Sylvia gave her hand a squeeze. “You want I should give your mama a ride back to the house?”

“Yes.” She swallowed, sniffing. “Yes, please.”

“Okay, Freckles. Sure. You just—maybe you just take a little drive for yourself, collect your thoughts.” Via paused, and then leaned a little to catch Elliot’s eyes; though her vision blurred from the threat of tears, the blonde still smiled a little. “You gonna be okay all by yourself?”

It was a strange question to ask, but Elliot knew what she meant. Are you safe? Alone?

“Yeah,” Ell replied in a thick, watery mumble. “I am.”

“Okay. Can you give me a call when you get home?”

She nodded weakly. Via pulled her into a hug, tight and gentle all at once, enough to make the dam break; just for a little, just for a minute, the tears streaked down her cheeks and caught up in the fabric of the scarf where it wadded against her jaw.

My God, what did you do?

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, pulling back and sucking in a sharp little breath. “Um, I’m really—s-sorry—”

But Via shook her head firmly and brushed some of the hair back from Elliot’s face, wet from her tears. “Don’t apologize. Go get a little breather.”

She fished the keys out of Elliot’s pocket for her, putting them in her hand and hesitating.

“Promise you’ll call,” she reiterated.

Elliot nodded. “I—I promise.”

“Okay. No take-backs.”

“No take-backs.”

Via gave her another hug before ushering her towards the car. As she climbed in and turned the key, her hands shaking, she thought about the way her mother had looked at the scar—with disgust. Horror. Shame. Via hadn’t looked at her like that, when she’d seen it. She’d seemed embarrassed, at having put Elliot in such a position; but not like that. She hadn’t looked horrified.

John didn’t look at it like that. He’d spent a lot of time last night, tracing the shape of the scar with his eyes, with his mouth, reverent and adoring. Makes you hungry, doesn’t it?

At least leaving would be that much easier.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They came back separately.

When John heard the front door open, he’d been starting a pot of coffee in the kitchen. He poked his head around the archway to look out in the foyer, only to find Scarlet standing there, furiously unbuttoning her coat and dropping her gloves into the drawer. Two dress bags hung on the coat rack.

“Ell outside?” he asked casually, coming around.

“Certainly not,” Scarlet replied tartly. “She’s—”

And then the woman let out a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment—for the first time, Scarlet Honeysett looked to be composing herself, which he thought she was nearly incapable of losing sight of. It seemed even the impenetrable armor of the Honeysett matriarch had its own weaknesses after all.

His tiny little thrill at the sight of Scarlet looking troubled was short-lived, however, because she said, “My daughter walked into the boutique sporting this—wretched scar—”

Oh, he thought, suddenly.

“—never been so humiliated in my whole life—”

Oh, no, because he knew exactly what she was talking about and Elliot would be—

“—have no doubt, Mr. Seed,” Scarlet bit out viciously, “that scar is new and you have certainly not influenced her away from such activities.”

He needed to find Elliot. She would be distraught; why hadn’t she come home with her mother? And why wasn’t Scarlet more pressed concerning her daughter’s well-being?

“And where is she?” John asked, ignoring the stinging anger bubbling in his chest. Wretched scar, she’d said. Like it wasn’t beautiful. Like it wasn’t gorgeous. Like he hadn’t spent a whole night looking at it, running his hands and mouth over it, knowing that Elliot had looked at him and wanted it and trusted him and if there was something more devoted, it was carrying someone’s child. “Elliot? Where is she?”

“Taking a moment to regain her senses,” the blonde replied sharply. “She has vowed to be home soon. Mr. Seed—”

He had gone to reach for his coat, pausing at her words and looking at her expectantly.

Scarlet twisted the gloves in her hands for a moment, her brows pulling together.

“I just think,” she finally said, “that as her husband, you are responsible for her as much as I am. You have to be taking care of her when I’m not around.”

“I do,” he replied.

“Evidence says contrary,” Scarlet snapped. “She has come back to me with more—damage—”

The sound of a car pulling up outside snapped John’s attention elsewhere. He knew that if he stayed much longer in the conversation, they would be leaving sooner than what they had planned, if only because Scarlet wouldn’t tolerate him in the house for the things that he wanted to say to her. Damage, he wanted to say, that is only as bad as it is because it’s compounding on your incessant need to brush aside her problems like they’re nothing, like she didn’t need help then.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, pulling his coat on and opening the door. The rush of cold air bit at his face and hands; Boomer came rushing out around his legs, springing down the steps and hurrying to the driver’s side of the Honda. John was only vaguely aware of the door closing behind him—and it didn’t matter, anyway.

She didn’t open the door when Boomer got there, scrabbling at it for her eagerly. She kept her hands on the top of the steering wheel and pressed her forehead into it, the engine ticking as it cooled. When John got there, he reached for the door handle to tug it open. Elliot hit the lock button.

“Ell,” John said, “open the door.”

She lifted her head tiredly from the steering wheel. Where her hand sat over the lock button, her fingers trembled a little, and her face was flushed—not with health, but with the sickly red of feverish, panicked crying.

“Baby,” he tried again, a little more urgently, putting his hand on the glass of the window, “Boomer wants to see you.”

Elliot’s eyes were fixed on his jacket. “Would you—” She stopped, her voice muffled by the glass, and then she took a deep breath and said, “Would you even be here if I wasn’t pregnant?”

“What?” John blinked at her.

“If I didn’t have the baby,” she tried again, her voice thick and watery with unshed tears, that pouty lower lip trembling, “would you have even come for me?”

He stared at her. It had never occurred to him, that there might be a world in her head where he didn’t come for her, where he didn’t find her, where he didn’t try and bring her back.

“Of course I would,” John said, drawing her eyes to him. “I love you, Elliot.” And then, more urgently: “I love you, with or without the baby.”

She looked away from him, then, staring out the other side of the window, fingers curling uselessly against the steering wheel even as the keys lay in the passenger seat—like she wanted to run. Like she wanted to floor it, and go somewhere, anywhere.

“Open the door, Ell.” He swallowed thickly. “Won’t you?”

The door lock clicked. He tugged at the handle and it opened with ease, Boomer instantly shoving his face into Elliot’s side and whining, tail wagging so furiously his whole body moved with it. John pushed the door open the rest of the way and reached for her, and her hand caught his wrist and pulled, and she buried her face into his chest and trembled like a leaf in a breeze.

“I’m so tired,” she moaned miserably into his chest, hiccupping with grief, “I want to go home.”

John wrapped his arms around her, one hand cradling the back of her head and keeping her tugged close.

“I know,” he said. “We’ll go. We will, I promise, Ell, okay?”

“Please—” The redhead pulled back to look at him. “I can’t—you can’t—lie to me, anymore—”

“I know,” John said again, a little helplessly, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone. She was clutching him so tightly he was sure her nails would leave marks on his skin, even through the fabric of his clothes.

“I won’t.”

[deans-haunted-baby]

Lately I can’t stop thinking about Adam, like I’m legit crushed over what this show did to him. I know Supernatural was never perfect but the way it treated this character was so damn vicious, condescending and nasty; no different than a high school bully picking on an injured elementary schooler.

He never stood a chance. The thing is I don’t know what it was that made me latch onto Adam so strongly for over a decade. Maybe I could just sympathize and easily relate to his situation of being discarded and forgotten by family members. Or maybe I saw potential in this character and couldn’t fathom why no one else on that writing staff and the SPN fandom couldn’t.

I want you to take a second and absorb these pertinent facts about Adam Milligan that this show put forward. This is not anti-anything this is all the truth so bare with me:

He was the illegitimate youngest child of hunter John Winchester; a man who treated his older sons Sam and Dean like soldiers on his platoon.

Adam only saw his bio dad ONCE A YEAR and it was only to take him to ball games not to train him so that he could protect himself and his mother from (supernatural) threats.

He never knew the existence of his older brothers nor did they know about him because John deliberately ripped those pages out of his journal. Essentially trying to erase any evidence of Adam and Kate.

Because Adam grew up having no clue what was out there or about the “family business”  he and his mother suffered VIOLENT PRE-MATURE DEATHS at the hands of ghouls which Adam STILL REMEMBERS long after being murdered.

Oh and John failed to kill those ghouls, providing them the golden opportunity of impersonating him and his mother so they could kill John and his half-brothers.

Adam was only an 18 year old pre-med studying medicine. Probably wanted to follow in his mother’s footsteps in helping people as she was a nurse.

Because Kate worked nights as a single mother, Adam had to grow up being his own parent at times; cooking his own meals and putting himself to bed.

Adam was ironically born on September 29th (1990) which is also known as Michaelmas aka the Feast of Saints Michael, Gabriel and Raphael. A potential storyline that could’ve gone somewhere but didn’t.

Adam is also by birthright a Men of Letters legacy though his brothers fail to mention that 10 years later.

The last thing Adam was doing while he was in Heaven, designed to look like his Prom, he was kissing a girl Kristen McGee; whom we’ll never know about or if he’ll ever see again.

Adam was ripped out of Heaven against his will by the angels to be used and manipulated as their backup device in the Apocalypse because Sam and Dean refused to comply with their demands.

After being resurrected, Adam was then recovered, kidnapped and held hostage by TFW (Sam, Dean, Bobby and Castiel) where they all took turns mouthing off at this angsty teenager about why he should trust a bunch of complete strangers over those who made him promises.

Adam only wanted to work with the angels in order to stop Lucifer and return to his mother. Highlighting that this character had a sense of justice, responsibility, cared about doing the right thing but also had his own reasons for wanting to save the world.

Sam tried to emotionally manipulate Adam with excuses for why their dad never told him about his family. And actually had the gall to say that him and Dean would’ve looked for him had they’d known he existed so they could be a family. Forgive me if I just laugh at this for a moment 🤣

Zachariah was able to get into Adam’s head because he knew how vulnerable he was. Telling him that trusting the Winchesters would only let him down which *SPOILER ALERT* turned out to be true.

Zachariah tortured Adam for hours before the Winchesters arrived to save him. And Dean was only willing to submit to the angel when Sam was just briefly tortured.

One of the last things Dean says to Adam in 5x18 after he was shocked to see his half-brothers come to his rescue was “Cause you’re family”. Again I have to...🤣🤣

At the moment of their escape, Dean doesn’t even help Adam (WHO’D BEEN INJURDED AND TORTURED) out of the room nor does he care about ushering him to safety. Dean just grabs Sam and hurries out the door. So much for being part of the family.

The last thing Adam screams before before being possessed by Michael was “Dean, help!” and then he hears Dean say “Just hold on!”

Adam, not being Michael’s true vessel yet born from the powerful Winchester bloodline, was able to look directly at the archangel’s true form without his eyes burning out. And this is NEVER explained why.

Dean mentions Adam only a total of THREE TIMES after this happens in 5x19, 5x22 and 6x11 while Castiel mentions it to Sam in 5x21. And Sam, WHO’D BEEN THE MAIN EMOTIONAL MANIPULATOR, just doesn’t give a shit to remember him.

Castiel threw a Molotov cocktail at Michael (who was using Adam’s body) to briefly cast him out which Adam probably felt in excruciating detail based on what Michael says in 15x08.

Sam, possessed by Lucifer, pushed himself and his innocent half-brother possessed by Michael into the cage for all eternity.

Castiel somehow managed to pull Sam out of the cage but decided to leave Adam behind.

After Dean bargains with Death to get Sam’s soul and Adam out of the cage. Only to get just Sam’s soul and leave Adam to his fate. The issue is never brought up again between the Winchesters.

Adam sits a prisoner in a cage with an archangel for 10 years our time but thousands of years Hell time.

Michael most likely protected Adam from some of the horrors in Hell which is why he was able to keep his sanity.

Sam and Dean went to Hell to talk to Lucifer in the cage but continue to ignore Adam’s existence and don’t bother releasing him yet they let Lucifer escape.

Dean also went back to Hell to retrieve Bobby’s soul so he could go to Heaven and again doesn’t even bother with Adam.

Season 10 for Supernatural’s 200th episode, Sam and Dean were reminded by SPN fans putting on a musical that Adam was still in the cage yet THEY NEVER DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT.

Mary Winchester STILL doesn’t know about Adam even though she was reunited with John during the 300th episode. He’s never mentioned during their big family get-together. I guess he never counted.

Adam and Michael are finally set free of Hell only because Chuck threw a giant hissy fit at the Winchesters and opened all the gateways.

The first thing Adam wanted to do as a free man in 15x08 was not seeking revenge on his brothers for abandoning him, but to eat some diner food, change his clothes and get a “little job”

After years of imprisonment, Adam actually befriended the Prince of Heaven aka the one friend he has/the only other person besides his mother who actually gave a damn about him.

TFW trapped, kidnapped and imprisoned Adam and Michael at the bunker in order to force them to help against Chuck.

And Adam, though still angry, hurt and worn out over the situation; chose to help his brothers when there was NOTHING in it for him and successfully convinced Michael to do the same.

Despite how his brothers treated him, Adam STILL believed in their best and vouched that they “always try to do the right thing”

Adam went to Hell a cranky, sassy, angsty, naïve teenager and returned a kinder, wiser, more patient, humble and rational-thinking man who still managed to smile and laugh after enduring centuries of pain.

Dean gives Adam his much due apology for not saving him but Sam doesn’t. In fact Sam doesn’t even bring him up the next time the Winchesters see each other.

Adam’s last words on this show are to Dean and they’re “Since when do we get what we deserve?” and “Good luck” 🤓

Chuck Thanos-snapped Adam’s soul out of existence OFF-SCREEN yet Michael somehow remained in his body.

Adam was 90% of Michael’s impulse control hence why he was so dark in his last appearance without Adam because that’s the only way I can cope with that disgusting character assassination in 15x19

Jack supposedly revived Adam along with everyone else after becoming the new God. BUT his current status now reads “Unknown” instead of “Alive” so what the fuck am I suppose to think now?!

Sam and Dean didn’t even think about checking in on Adam to make sure he was okay before they hit the road on their last solo bro-outing.

If Adam really is alive then he’s doomed to a miserable, lonely existence without his best friend (who’s now dead). Broke, homeless, jobless; his brothers STILL DON’T GIVE A RAT’S ASS after he’d helped them in good faith. He’s legally deceased thanks to the ghouls. And he gets to look forward to demon city the moment he dies cause guess where he’s ending up?

No one remembers him even after he’d returned in 15x08

The car and the dog are more important to the Winchesters than their innocent half-brother.

Okay I realize I just unloaded a whole mountain of salt but this is the full outline of Adam’s tragic story on Supernatural. These writers never cared about him and why? What did he do to deserve this gross treatment from the show’s protagonists or just in general? Why was he even introduced if this was going to be the outcome of it all? I don’t know what’s worse leaving him in Hell (cause at least he had Michael for company) or bringing him back and not knowing what became of him after. It’s insufferable 😣 I just want everyone to know that the showrunners and writers may not care about him BUT I DO.