#need everyone to know how much jacob in chaps mean to me

[vamprnce]

"okay now let's do a silly one! 🤪"

yippee, I got cowboy Nick and Jacob done finally!!! you guys have no idea how long I wanted to draw their outfits :') anyways here's them being silly goofy and taking pics together (Emma's taking it for them)

also some lore/hc's: Nick is the cook for the group (as it's similar to his counselor job) he's pretty good w shooting as well and will be included for back up if need. Him, Jacob and Dylan are still the best bro's and go off to the bar in town just being dumb. I also just couldn't stop imagining Jacob as like a cattle or something lmao also no one really trusts him w guns but he's really great on robberies and other jobs. I can see him and Emma trying to break in a safe during a robbery together, especially when she distracted guards and everything

(tysm for everyone supporting and motivating me to finish this indulgent project!! esp my friends since the au was formed bc of them :'))

[cdyssey]

melissa snaps at janine and makes her cry. some cute mothery apologies follow.

I'm weak for Melissa being motherly towards Janine. :')

AO3 Link CW: Mentions of Verbal Parental Abuse and Neglect; Alcohol Mention

—

Janine messes up with Melissa again.

It’s nothing new at this point and everything familiar. The first time, it was calling her a bad teacher to ignore her nauseating anxieties that she was one herself. Then, it was trying to meddle in the older teacher’s relationship with her estranged sister, thinking she could “parent trap” them into a tearful reconciliation. (Again, her own insecurities. Her poorly disguised fears. Her sister all the way in California. Her mother less than thirty minutes away, but she might as well be on Mars for all the unanswered blue text bubbles. For all the phone calls that go straight to voicemail.)

And today, ignoring every warning sign flashing at her in bright neon, she kept pestering Melissa about her birthday, wanting to calendarize the date in her agenda with all the rest. She has everyone else’s at Abbott—Barbara’s, Gregory’s, Jacob’s, Ava’s, and even Mr. Johnson’s—but her attempts to get a straight answer from Melissa were met with increasingly wry, blunt, or wryly blunt answers.

“None ya, kid.”

“December 32nd.”

“February 13th, but only when it’s a blood moon and the Eagles’ve won the Super Bowl.”

“Buzz off, Janine! I’m tryin’ to use the toilet in peace for God’s flipping sake.”

Until finally, she asked again at lunch time, perhaps hoping that Barbara’s presence in the teacher’s lounge—and generally softening influence on Melissa—would be enough to put the other second grade teacher in a good mood. However, in front of everyone, she received the most direct reply yet.

“Janine,” Melissa had exhaled, setting her fork down and pinching the bridge of her sharp nose, “you’re giving me a headache. How many times do I gotta politely tell you that no means no before it gets through that stubborn head of yours, huh?”

Barbara had immediately elbowed Melissa.

Hard.

But the effect on Janine was instantaneous and incisive, paring through her like a white-hot knife. Before she could stop them, tears had welled in her eyes, and she’d just stood there, utterly broken, feeling like a little girl again in her Velcro shoes, listening to her mom tell her that she was being a pest and needed to go away.

Marsha Teagues had only slightly been drunk one night when she had muttered, staring Janine directly in the eye, “Gotdamn, I didn’t even want kids.”

She was barely six at the time, but in all the intervening years, she has never forgotten the crucial fact that she was unwanted from the start.

That kind of knowledge sticks with a person, haunting them like a personal ghost.

This isn’t Melissa’s cross and trauma to bear, of course.

What she had said was nowhere near as devastating—wasn’t even really mean all truth being told—and the more logical part of her had readily understood that the other second grade teacher was just articulating a reasonable boundary, finally expressing the breadth of her annoyance after having been mercilessly hounded by Janine all day.

But still.

She doesn’t know how to live with rejection from women who are old enough to be her mother.

She had run out just as her chest started to heave, feeling the world blur and unravel around the shape of her grief, uncaring where her steps took her as long as it was away from Melissa Schemmenti and the painful accountability of having hurt her again.

And for the last ten minutes or so now, she’s been sitting on the stone steps leading up to the eastern entrance of the building, staring at the frost-dusted cars in the staff parking lot and shivering emptily from the cold. She’d forgotten her long overcoat in her haste to escape the teacher’s lounge—was not so much as wearing her gloves, a toboggan, or her woolly scarf either—and she temples her chapped hands together, exhaling into the small gap between her thumbs in a somewhat useless attempt to warm them up.

Her breath is silvery in the iron gray air.

And her heart is unbelievably heavy, nestled like a stone in the cradle of her chest.

But at least she’s stopped crying.

At least, in a few minutes, when the bell rings again, she’ll be able to hitch a smile on her face once again, return to her classroom, and utterly lie to herself.

She will be the first and the most vehement to tell herself that she is perfectly okay.

And she will repeat this broken mantra—emphatically, continually, and smilingly—until the very moment when the lie becomes the closest thing to the truth, and she can happily swallow the bitter medicine that she has personally doctored with sugar.

"I'm okay," she'll eventually reply to the concerned text she's already received from Jacob.

"I'm fine," she'll tell Barbara if her classroom neighbor comes to check on her.

"Really," she'll stubbornly insist if Gregory does the same.

And then the door, half-rusted on its hinges, suddenly creaks open behind her, and ruins all of these best laid plans.

“Kid,” Melissa’s voice comes down to her from above, blunt but not unkind, “get your ass back inside. You’re gonna get frostbite or somethin'."

Janine, frozen on the steps though she is, alternatively wants to melt into the ground—into a puddle, into oblivion, into atoms and nothingness stew. She closes her eyes and wishes it was anyone else but her. She had been going to apologize to Melissa later—she promises, she absolutely swears—but only long after she had pulled herself together and come up with the right words.

She has no words in this present moment—only barely commands a voice that wavers pathetically in the cold.

“H-how’d you find me?” She asks clumsily, refusing to turn around, though she can feel the older woman’s nearby presence like a light, radiating her unmistakable thereness only a few feet away. The door closes with a tinny click. The soles of black boots scuff the stone landing. An exhale like a worldweary sigh. 

“Ain’t too many places in this school where you can go for a good cry,” comes a shrugging response. “You weren’t in the supply closets or the bathrooms, so process of elimination.”

It only vaguely registers, in her benumbed and exhausted brain, that Melissa had actively been looking for her, chasing her around Abbott until she was found. However, the other woman makes the point astonishingly clear when she throws her leather jacket across Janine’s shaking shoulders and lowers herself down on the step next to her in a slightly laborious motion, gripping the black iron rail for support.

“But, Melissa, you’ll get cold—” She protests, seeing that her colleague is only wearing a thin Henley and an even thinner undershirt, but Melissa playfully waves her off.

“Pssh, you kidding me?” She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest in a familiar gesture. “I’m Sicilian. Got hot blood in my veins.”

Janine doesn’t think that’s how being Sicilian works at all, but she doesn’t know enough about the subject to refute the dubious claim; instead, she gratefully wraps the jacket around her more snugly, guiltily relieved that it’s still warm from Melissa’s body heat.

“Thanks,” she smiles weakly.

“Don’t mention it,” Melissa lightly elbows her arm, and for a long moment there—a handful of leaden seconds, a minute, probably, at most—the two teachers sit side-by-side on that frigid concrete stoop, watching the clouds unfurl across the unhappy sky like wispy cigarette smoke.

Melissa almost says something, and Janine tenses herself to react, every muscle taut with unbearable anticipation, but no sound is forthcoming other than that of their mutual breathing. Janine almost says sorry, and Melissa inclines her vivid head to listen, but she chickens out in the end, unsure of how to arrange her words in an order that actually means anything. Eventually, though, after a few of these loaded non-gestures, the older woman is the first to break the silent tango, firmly reaching over and placing a palm on Janine’s knuckles, where her hand is loosely draped over her knee.

“Hey,” she says gently, in the same voice that she uses when she’s soothing her second graders. “I didn’t mean to snap at ya back there.”

Janine blinks once, her eyes stinging from the wind.

Maybe.

"You're not the one who needs to be apologizing," she returns, shame darkening her cheeks. She looks down at the hand covering her own, the perfectly manicured nails, the plain golden rings glinting on every slender finger, and has the gall to be surprised when everything blurs over with freshly renewed tears. She swipes at her face angrily with her free arm. “I was being annoying… and not listening when you were saying no—in lots of different ways. That’s on me.”

Overstepping, never knowing when to stop—always, always, always.

She just wants to get it right for once in her lifetime.

Caring in reasonable moderation.

Never going too far.

Being perfectly and completely enough.

“I mean, yeah, you were being annoying,” Melissa snorts, but Janine must visibly react to this unsweetened blow because she hurriedly adds, "I wasn’t all in the clear either, though. Barbs was quick to remind me that you young’uns benefit from hearing the reasons behind the shit we old fogeys say sometimes.”

Janine’s blush deepens at the implicit reminder that she’d only recently teed off Barbara too with the whole juice ordeal. The kindergarten teacher had eventually been compassionate, though—had even promised to set aside time to mentor herself, Jacob, and Gregory. And a woman of her promises, every few weeks, she’s invited them to her classroom after school for Tea Time with Mrs. Howard, answering their questions with the patience of a saint and the sermonizing intonations of a tent revival preacher.

“To most folks, a birthday ain’t that big of a deal, right?” Melissa goes on, either oblivious to Janine’s embarrassment or kindly ignoring it. Janine decides upon the latter when she receives a subtle squeeze of the hand. “I could’ve answered the first time ya asked, and we could’ve both gone on with our merry lives…”

She trails off in the end, suddenly looking rather drawn and tired in the gray light of day.

“Melissa,” Janine feels compelled to say, “you don’t have to explain if you don’t want to. I get it.”

She doesn’t, really.

Ever since she was young, and her mother either half-assed her birthday or neglected to celebrate it all, birthdays have always been a huge deal to her—both her own and others. She never forgets a friend’s birthday once she’s been told, going all out in showering them with gifts and love, finding the two things inextricable in her mind. And after she got together with Tariq in high school, she’s honestly had more good birthdays than bad. To his credit, her ex unfailingly treated her like a princess on her special day, taking her out on dates that he sometimes even paid for with his own money.

“I want to, though,” Melissa shakes her head, smiling at Janine sadly. “Gotta make up for bein’ a douchecanoe somehow.”

“You weren’t—”

“Oh, I was,” the older woman protests, laughing hoarsely. “I get my back up, teeth bared and hackles raised, when it comes to my birthday… don’t have too many good experiences with them."

A slight pause as Melissa briefly glances away to cough into her fist, her red hair falling in an elegant curtain across the side of her face. 

"When ya come from a Catholic household of six kids and you’re the oldest," she continues, still not looking at Janine, "your poor ma forgets from time to time ‘cause there are so many mouths to feed and money’s always tight, and your pops has gone to the corner store for cigarettes for the fourth time in a year. Or then, the moment ya turn eighteen, you marry a man who’s not really good at remembering shit like that—so he claims—and so after ‘round fifteen years of marriage, he doesn’t bother remembering a day anymore but a month and gets the specifics wrong every time.”

She listens intently, spellbound, and vaguely sickened, by the casual, almost jocular tone of Melissa's voice, that is only undermined by the way she’s tightly clenching Janine’s hand—as though she’s grounding herself in the simple act of not letting go. She hears about a lifetime of forgotten birthdays and immediately translates that into a shorthand for chronic neglect, something Janine knows all too well and probably better than most.

In fact, she hadn’t realized just how similar she and Melissa actually are in some of the most important ways.

Janine loves birthdays precisely because she knows what it’s like to not have good ones.

Melissa must hate hers for the exact same reason.

“My mom forgot mine a lot too when I was younger,” she offers quietly, like it’s a confession, and perhaps it very well is. She doesn’t talk about her mother much with people—hates seeing the inevitable pity in their eyes, the sympathetic condolences that they don't know how to put into words. “And so I promised myself that I’d never let any of my friends feel the same way I did if I could help it...”

Even though she desperately wants to, she doesn’t look away from Melissa as she says it, waiting patiently for the moment when the other teacher turns to face her again, her green eyes softened in realization and tenderness.

But never pity.

Melissa doesn’t pity her.

She understands her, and there is a crucial, cathartic difference.

"But I get carried away sometimes," she adds. Another apology. So many apologies. She's always screwing up in some way or another. "And I'm really sorry, Melissa. I had no idea..."

... that you've been hurt so much in your lifetime.

... that we both have been.

... that we deal with our respective pains the best ways we know how, and maybe we hurt other people in the process. I push too hard. You only know how to pull away.

But these sentences get stuck in the column of her throat—too vulnerable, too explicit, too painfully raw—and the moment slips from her fingertips, just as bitterly and quickly as the passing breeze.

“Still noble of you, kid,” Melissa only says, but she finally takes her hand off Janine’s and fluidly wraps her now freed arm around her side in the same motion, pulling her close. Her embrace is achingly warm, her perfume fittingly sweet—a little oaky, with the barest notes of vanilla and rich, homely spice.

“Kinda sad, though, I guess,” Janine laughs humorlessly, her voice a hundred emotions thick, as she dares to lean into the touch, resting her cheek against the other’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Melissa’s low voice skims the top of her head, as gentle as a kiss. “That too, hon.”

Which is only fitting, she supposes, closing her eyes as the older woman idly rubs circles into her back with her thumb.

It's a sad thing that happened to them.

[carewyncromwell]

Back to School Challenge // hosted by @cursebreakerfarrier​​

🍻𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬 𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑶𝑫!🍻

“Singing Radiohead at the top of our lungs With the boombox blaring as we're falling in love... I got a bottle of whatever, but it's gettin' us drunk, Singing, ‘Here's to never growing up!’ We'll be running down the street, yelling ‘Kiss my ass!’ I'm like, ‘Yeah, whatever, we're still living like that...’ When the sun's going down, we'll be raising our cups, Singing, ‘Here's to never growing up!’” ~“Here’s to Never Growing Up” by Avril Lavigne

x~x~x~x

Content warning: underage drinking and more than a few swears 💙

x~x~x~x

The end of OWL season was a relief to all of the fifth years in the spring of 1980. The exams had been incredibly stressful for just about everyone -- meaning everyone except Jacob Cromwell, who was almost maddeningly cheerful during most of the proceedings. Quite a few of his classmates -- including his boy best friend Duncan -- had wanted to club him over the back of the head for it. At one point, even Olivia had had to put a hand down on top of Jacob’s head and mutter very lowly in his ear -- 

“Jacob...the examiners won’t mark you down for doing your work in silence. Please, tone it down.”

Fortunately once exams were over, both Olivia and Duncan could breathe easier -- and so when Jacob came to them with yet another mad-brilliant idea he’d come up with out of nowhere, they were much more open to it.

“So I was over in the kitchens talking to Pitts -- you know, asking about his old owner’s work with dragons, for Gringotts -- and I got to thinking, the house elves sometimes have to brew their own butterbeer, when they've used all the barrels shipped in from the Three Broomsticks. And Rosmerta even now keeps adjusting her recipe, to appeal to different customers’ taste buds -- I remember she said one bloke asked her for a slightly more bitter brew, so she mixed in some rum and cloves. So I thought -- what if we tried it? Take a whole bunch of drinks -- some butterbeer, some pumpkin juice, a couple types of pop -- maybe even some firewhiskey, and just...mix ‘em up! Pour in some maple syrup or lemonade or chocolate drizzle and mix it in, and just see how they turn out!”

Duncan raised an eyebrow. “So what -- basically play ‘Mad Potionsmaster,’ but with drinks?”

“Yeah!” said Jacob brightly. 

Olivia considered this with a smile. “It does sound like it could be fun. You two are both really good at Potions...and Jacob, you’re not bad when it comes to food, either. Even Rosmerta liked that one idea you had to mix in almond milk with her usual butterbeer draft....”

Duncan brought a hand up to his mouth thoughtfully. “...I guess so...”

He smirked. “...Okay -- let’s do it.”

Jacob threw his arms around both of his friend’s shoulders, grinning from ear to ear in delight and excitement. 

“All right! So the first thing to do is to get ourselves some proper drinks to mix. Butterbeer’s a given, of course, but if we’re gonna get anything a bit more exciting, we’ll probably need access to the Hog’s Head...the bartender’s a swell chap, I’m sure he’d be willing to look the other way if I do him a favor or two, just like whenever we’ve smuggled stuff back before...”

“We’ll have to hash out how we’ll smuggle in more than just firewhiskey back, though,” Olivia pointed out lightly. “And how we plan to avoid Filch -- there are no more Hogsmeade weekends coming up, so we’d be going on a non-school-sanctioned trip.”

“We have the passage behind the mirror on the fourth floor!” Jacob suggested eagerly. “That one’ll drop us off right outside the Hog’s Head, and that way we won’t pass by Filch at all on the way back!”

“We’d also need a place to do this little ‘experiment’ where we’re not going to get caught,” Duncan added much more dryly. “Unless you plan to have me sneak into your dormroom.”

“Why not?” said Jacob with a mischievous grin. “There are no protections on the boys’ dorm, so Liv can pop over whenever. And you’re more than clever enough to solve a little riddle, aren’t you, Ashe?”

Duncan purposefully ignored the dark flush that rose in his face and scoffed. “Your commonroom really has the shoddiest security measures...”

Olivia’s face suddenly grew more thoughtful. 

“I feel like your point might be a bit double-edged, Jacob,” she said with a slight frown. “If I can pop over whenever...well, couldn’t anyone? There would be nothing to hinder other students from coming across us.”

Jacob frowned too, his eyes drifting up toward the ceiling in thought. “...Hm, right. I don’t care if anyone else runs off to snitch on us...but a teacher stepping in could put an end to the fun before it really gets started...”

Duncan’s eyes lit up at that moment. His mouth spread into a very broad, mischievous smirk. 

“Change of plans,” he said, and his face seemed to glint with an oddly devilish expression. “We’re hosting this little get-together in my dorm -- and we’re doing it next Friday.”

That next Friday was Horace Slughorn’s very last “Slug Club” party of the term, meant to “say goodbye” to those club members who would be graduating that year. Jacob had actually received an invitation to the event by Slughorn, though he’d promptly forgotten about it almost immediately, since he was so disinterested in going to parties. Duncan, however, realized that quite a few Slytherins would be at Slughorn’s party, including all of the boys he shared a dormroom with, and even if anyone did spot Jacob and Olivia in the Slytherin dorm, the Slug Club’s party would go well into the morning, so no one would be able to report them to Slughorn until the next day, at which point Olivia and Jacob would be long gone back to Ravenclaw Tower. 

“To play it extra safe, though,’ Duncan said with a smirk, “I’ll let off a Dungbomb at the base of the stairs after us, to deter anyone from coming upstairs...and there’s this charm I learned from an older student to deaden sound through the walls, so that it’ll be less likely that we’re overheard. We should be completely undisturbed until morning.”

And so the mad plan went into effect. Before the Slug Club’s party, Jacob, Duncan, and Olivia met in the hall by the mirror on the fourth floor, dressed in plain clothes with their Hogwarts robes over them. Then, in the passage, they shed their robes and took the passage underground toward Hogsmeade village, popping up in a shed just outside the Hog’s Head. Then, blending in with the other patrons, they headed into the Hog’s Head, where Jacob haggled with the bartender, Aberforth, for a good assortment of drinks. Eventually they left the bar with a bottle each of butterbeer, firewhiskey, Waldorf’s Welsh Green Rum, Vappa’s Classic Vodka, Otter’s Fizzy Orange Juice, and lemon-lime pop. When they got back to the passage, Olivia used a Sticking Charm to attach two bottles each to the sides of her, Jacob’s, and Duncan’s legs, so that when they put their robes back on, the bottles were obscured under the billowing black folds. By the time they climbed out of the passage and headed down to the Slytherin commonroom, Slughorn’s party was already getting underway, which gave Jacob, Olivia, and Duncan the perfect opportunity to stop by the Hogwarts kitchens, pick up another bottle each of Gillywater and pumpkin juice and a small container each of strawberry jam, sugar cubes, and maple and chocolate syrup, and sneak into the Slytherin commonroom. 

“So this is your pad!’ said Jacob delightedly, upon seeing Duncan’s dormroom for the first time. 

He immediately darted over to the window through which one could see the murky Black Lake so he could plaster his hands on the glass and peek into the dark water. 

“It’s a lot darker than the Ravenclaw commonroom,” Olivia said thoughtfully, as Jacob’s nose pressed comically against the glass. “It must be kind of hard to read in here...”

“Not if you light some candles,” Duncan said dryly. “Or if you read by the fireplace -- that’s a good place to study.”

He shot Jacob a rather dull look. “Jacob, take your face off the glass -- I don’t need anyone wondering who made out with my window.”

Jacob peeled his face away from the window at last, shooting Duncan a rather wry grin. “Hey, what can I say? The Black Lake’s pretty gorgeous. D’you know if it’s single?”

“Single? Ha,” Duncan said very coolly. “As if you were in its league.”

“How many leagues would it be, I wonder?” teased Jacob. “I think leagues are supposed to be something akin to miles, except at sea...do you reckon the Black Lake would even be a mile deep?”

“I don’t know, but I’d say we’ll be in deep water ourselves, if you don’t put up those precautions, Duncan,” Olivia said lightly. 

Duncan’s face grew more serious. “Right.”

He removed the bottles of vodka and rum from his legs and put them down on the rug in front of his bed.

“I’ll be right back -- don’t blow anything up until I get back.”

Jacob laughed. “Awwww! But I thought we could try to make our own variation on Exploding Lemonade, Ashe!”

“Do it after I come back, then,” Duncan shot back over his shoulder with a smirk of his own before he headed out to put up the proper wards and chuck a Dungbomb down the stairs.

About a half hour later, the three students were mixing up drinks like mad scientists and daring each other to drink them. A good chunk of them turned out disgusting -- the vodka/Gillywater/Fizzy Orange Juice/chocolate sauce variant made all three of them nauseous -- but on the other hand, more than a few turned out kind of good! Olivia’s Fizzy Orange spiked with vodka and pumpkin juice wasn’t bad, and Duncan ended up mixing and chugging a whole glass of his combination of butterbeer mixed with firewhiskey and maple syrup. Jacob even came up with a brand new drink of his own -- a fusion of Waldorf’s Welsh Green Rum, lemon-lime pop, and a shot of Vappa’s Classic Vodka -- which he, Olivia, and Duncan all passed around several times.

“Hey -- I got a -- got a name for it!” Jacob said with a way too big, dorky grin. His voice was slightly higher pitched and rocked up and down in volume and pitch as if he were on a see-saw. “Here it is, here it is -- a Vodka Kedavra. Get it? Get it? ‘Cause it’s green...”

“Nice one, Jacob,” sniggered Duncan.

The Slytherin seemed to be a lot less critical of Jacob, when he was drunk. And also more “touchy” -- he’d played with Olivia’s hair a few times, and he kept resting his head on Jacob’s shoulder, even while talking more loudly in his ear.

“Like its namesake, this drink will fuck all of us over in the end,” said Olivia, toasting the two of them with a very broad, but thoroughly cynical smile. “Once we leave school...”

She had, oddly enough, seemed to dip into a lot of dark humor and swearing, under all of the alcohol’s influence -- she’d even reached for the guitar she’d brought with her and started writing random, swear-filled tunes about nothing at several points, including this one.

“Avada Kedavra -- Avada Kedavra --

The delight of all fuck-ups and screw-ups and dicks --

Avada Kedavra -- a Vodka Kedavra

Is what I will need to get through all of this!”

“Bravo!” said Duncan loudly, as he and Jacob clapped. “Bravo! Encore!”

“Shut the fuck up,” laughed Olivia.

“Just saying, though -- I’m not going down without a real fight!” Jacob said brightly, as he started mixing the butterbeer, firewhiskey, rum, and vodka all together.“If old Moldy Shorts wants at me, I’ll take him on!”

“Of course you would,” said Olivia with another cynical smile. “And you’d probably be teasing him over his lack of a nose the whole time, you absolute wanker...”

“I love watching you duel, Jacob,” Duncan said as Jacob drank from the glass he’d just mixed together and pulled a face. Duncan clumsily brought an arm around Jacob’s waist and pulled him closer to him. “You’re always so witty when you duel...”

“And you’re so nice when you’re drunk, Ashe!” said Jacob, passing him the drink he’d mixed together with another dorky grin. “You should drink all the time!”

Duncan took a long swig that made him see stars, once he’d lowered the glass. “Only with my bbbbest friends...”

He got right up in Olivia’s face as he tried to loop an arm around her too. Olivia, though, snatched the glass Jacob had given Duncan and wiggled out of his reach.

“Fuck off, your breath smells like shit,” she said good-naturedly. She took a sip too, and she gave a loud choke. “JACOB! That’s absolute...RUB-bish...!”

Jacob laughed.

“Now we all smell like shit!” he said very brightly and way too loudly.

“I think wwwwe smell brilliant!” said Duncan. “You’re bbboth brilliant! I love youuu guys...”

Not long later, all three students had passed out on the floor around Duncan’s four poster, Olivia resting her head on Duncan’s shoulder, Jacob half-sitting in Duncan’s lap, and Duncan wrapping his arms around both of them.

When they were woken up very early the next morning by the rest of Duncan’s dormmates finally getting in from Slughorn’s party and reacting loudly to the Dungbomb smell on the stairs, all three students had such a killer headache that they couldn’t summon up any kind of genius plan to avoid getting caught. So in the end, Duncan did what any child trying to hide something from the adults would do -- he hid all the bottles and rubbish under his bed. As for Olivia and Jacob, Duncan pulled the curtains around his four poster bed, so as to hide all three of them inside until later that morning.

“FFFFFudge, my head hurts,” growled Duncan.

“Mine too,” Olivia moaned very softly.

“It was that bloody Vodka Kedavra of yours, Jacob,” Duncan said irritably. “I must’ve downed at least five of those...”

Jacob buried his face in Duncan’s pillow with a groan. “I am not using that name again -- it’s so beyond not funny...”

“They say misery...” Olivia turned her head toward the far wall away from Jacob and swallowed back the urge to vomit, “...is the root of all humor, Jacob.”

“S’not funny,” Jacob moaned again into Duncan’s pillow.

Duncan fumbled around for his wand on his nightstand through the curtains. Once he’d found it, he used Muffliato to deaden the sound both inside and outside his curtains, before falling back onto the pillows on the other side of Jacob.

“No classes tomorrow morning,” he said groggily. “I’m gonna need to brew us a couple dozen Wiggenweld Potions, once I’m halfway alive...”

Jacob’s voice came out muffled through the pillow.

“What?” said Duncan.

“Water,” Jacob shifted his head and repeated in just as dizzy and nauseous-sounding voice as the other two. “We need to flush out the ethanol in our bloodstream, and the best way to do that is drink lots of water. We’ll also want to boost our glucose levels with carbs and sugars, to help fight off the subsequent fatigue.”

Duncan goggled at Jacob. “Did you seriously research hangover cures, before we did this?”

Jacob gave him a weak smile that ended up more like a grimace. “Hey...I was curious.”

Olivia smiled slightly as she rested her head beside Jacob’s on the pillow and closed her eyes. “Well, thank Merlin for your curiosity, Jacob. For now, though...let’s try to get some sleep.”

Jacob took the advice without any argument, woozily settling back onto Duncan’s pillow in such a way that he unknowingly ended up with his face in the crook of Duncan’s neck.

With a flush, Duncan watched Jacob sleep for a moment, his dark eyes flitting over to Olivia as well before returning to Jacob. Then, very slowly, Duncan eased himself down too, bringing an arm up and over his pillow so that it rested over both of his friend’s heads, and lay his head on top of Jacob’s as he closed his eyes.

Honey. Jacob’s shampoo smelled like honey.

Sadly the three did end up getting caught by Slughorn, when Duncan tried and failed to smuggle his friends back out of the Slytherin dormroom that morning when he thought all of the other students had left. The three received detention for an entire week for breaking commonroom rules, but fortunately no one ever found out about their wild night of underage drinking. And honestly, a week’s worth of detentions wasn’t the worst thing ever -- just another memory the three thought they’d be able to laugh about, in hindsight.

Little did Jacob, Duncan, and Olivia know that this fun little bit of teenage misbehavior would be the last happy memory they’d share for a very long time.

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

Blood red mist - Japer x reader

Hello everyone. Sorry for my long absence, life got in the way. But here you go, a jasper hale x reader pic thats been long overdue for @imyourapocalypse, there will be more parts but heres part 1! :)

“Guys, it’s okay, i’ll take her.”

The one sentence that you didn't think really meant anything, until it did. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Birds. Frikin birds. Normally you were one with nature, but not when it decided to wake you up as soon as the sun rose. You groaned and rolled over in bed mushing your face into the hard lump that was your fiancé. He snickered under his breath and stretched out next to you, rubbing a hand over your back, playing with your hair. You looked up and smiled at him, taking in his brilliance, his messy blonde hair glimmering in the sunlight, the beams from the early morning catching his face making him shimmer, his skin like diamonds.

“Morning cowboy.” He smiled back and pulled you into him, placing his nose in your hair, breathing in your scent. 

You had met Jasper a few years ago now. You think back to when you watched the tall, pale, blonde haired man float through the school office while you were there to pick up copies of your recommendation letters. You'd been so startled and taken aback by his beauty and piercing amber eyes that your fingers shook and the manila folder you were holding slipped out of your hand and landed on the tiled floor with a dull thud. A classic scene from every cheesy rom-com you'd ever watched, only you didn't care, because as you leant down to pick up the folder in embarrassment, Jasper helped and as soon as you looked into his glowing eyes, you knew fate was a real thing. 

Since then you'd been with the Cullen’s through almost everything, well, not with them in person some of the times. You'd been accepted to University across the country and missed most of the recent drama that surrounded the Cullen family and Bella Swan, but having recently graduated you were back now and you couldn't be happier, neither could Jasper. 

At first you weren't sure if you liked Bella, you were a few years older, and weren't one for drama, in the beginning you didn't click, however, overtime when you had a holiday or came to visit the Cullen’s you grew closer and closer and were practically best friends. You could relate to one another… both human (Well, not Bella anymore) both in love with good-looking Vampires. 

You were still away at University when Bella was changed, due to come back only a few days after. Jasper had been filling you in on everything that had been happening, and you face timed with Bella every day until the change happened. You'd got back and were instantly kept away from your friend, only glimpsing her still, frozen form through the smeared glass of the Cullen’s make shift infirmary. Jasper assured you it was for your own safety, his Major side was out in full force, his mind floating back to the time he trained New Borns with Maria. He knew how destructive they could be, what little willpower and resistance they had and he constantly worried for your safety.

You'd managed though. Survived through it all, somehow unscathed, the meeting with the Volturi, which…. you weren't actually there for, again. Something you weren't involved in. If it had been Bella she would have been brought along but Jasper was protective on another level, dominant. You could never win a fight with Jas, his need to protect you and your bond too strong to fight. 

Now it was just another day. The Volturi were gone, the other vamps, the family friend had all gone too, now it was just you and the Cullen’s, you and your mate. You smiled to yourself. Finally, the first day things can start going back to normal. 

-A few hours later -

You were laughing at something Rosalie had said while cupping a mug of hot coffee in both of your chilly hands. The air outside was frosty, the remnants of winter lingering. Rose had been talking about some girl who'd tried flirting with Emmett in the local convenience store.. lets just say if looks could kill, that poor girl would either be a New Born or dead.

Bella and Edward joined you in the Kitchen, even without vampire hearing you could make out what they were saying. Jacob, as much as he wanted to, couldn't come over to look after Nessie, He had pack duties and so now Bella was saying she couldn't join the family hunt. You smiled and coughed a little. Both looked at you, unaware you and Rose were sitting across the room. 

“Guys I’ll be here, I can look after Ness.. I know you wanted to get her some school supplies Bells, I know the perfect shop in town I could take her to and then we could get some food! Have a girls date.” You smiled, your teeth sparkling against your slightly chapped, rose red lips. 

“What’s this about a girls date.” The southern accent made your skin tingle and before you could turn around Jasper was already behind you pressing a kiss to the sweet spot on your neck, you sighed and leaned back against him.

“Y/N is taking Renesmee into town for some shopping and food while we all go hunting this afternoon.” Bella smiles at you gratefully but you feel Jasper tense behind you. You watched as Edward rolled his eyes and gave you a small smile, obviously listening to Jaspers loud thoughts. 

“Darlin, I don't know if I like the idea of the two of you being without one of us..” You were next in line to roll your eyes, turning to look at your fiancé, you took his hand and kissed his knuckles. 

“Jas, were only going to town, we will do a little shopping for school supplies get some food, the human kind, and then before you know it i’ll be calling you to come pick us up again!” 

You stood up off the stool and kissed his cheek, slipping out of the room away from Jasper before the Major could disagree, It was decided. The vamps would do the vampy hunty stuff, and the Human and hybrid would look for cute fluffy pencils and sparkly backpacks. 

———————————————————————————————————————————

It was just after Christmas, the air was frigid and frost still nipped at both your noses as you skipped down the steps of the restaurant. The snow had finally cleared, but still no signs of green life in the town of Port Angeles. Somehow Nessie had persuaded you into getting ice cream even though it was the middle of January. Bags in one hand, Nessie’s gloved hand in the other, you walked side by side back to your car a few streets over from the parlour. It was oddly quiet, but then remembered there was some sort of celebration going on near the dock, the reason you hadn't seen anyone on the walk back to the car park. You had parked where you normally did, the same car park behind the book store Edward had once saved Bella in. 

You could see it, your silver BMW under the single street light, bathed in a warm glow. A belated graduation present from your family. You smiled and thought of Jasper. Wondering how they were getting on at the hunt. Just as you were about to reach for your phone you heard a twig snap at the edge of the trees. Then a swoosh, something passed your eyes in a flash. Something wasn't right.

Your phone started to buzz in your pocket. 

You stopped. Nessie stopped. Something didn't feel right. Your smile faded, somewhere in the distance you could hear a scream, but then realised it had come from right beside you, You slowly turned to look at Renesmee, fear on her little face. You were confused, until you felt it. Your stomach felt warm, hot almost, only one part of it, then all of it at once, flashing burning pain. 

You sank to your knees, the bags in your hands dropped with a dull thud and the contents slipped out onto the wet asphalt. Nessie was staring at you in shock, you looked down and choked as you watched the silver handle of the knife, wedged in your body, bob up and down in time with the rhythm of your laboured breathing. Your phone was still ringing, the sound a fuzzy noise somewhere floating in your scrambled thoughts. In the distance your were sure you heard a howl. They were too far away. You grabbed Renesmee’s hand, giving it a squeeze, you were crying, a red haze seemed to float around you both, like raw energy flickering in the night sky. 

“Nessie look at m-me, don't be scared.” You sobbed, you were dying, you could feel your energy fading, the red haze around you seemed to get brighter. “Nessie, it’s okay, shhh.” You were trying to calm her down, your hand still clutching her small one. Your eyes were flickering. 

“Nessie, my phone, can you get my phone.” You weakly pointed to your blood soaked pocket. She seemed frozen, unable to move, then something clicked inside her. She grabbed it answering the frantic caller on the other end. 

“Uncle Jas, Uncle Jas there’s so much blood.” Nessie cried. Jasper. Your eyes were getting heavier, you could hear Jaspers frantic voice on the other end. Suddenly you felt the phone pressed against your ear, it felt like your could hear the sound of your blood rushing around your body. 

“Jas-jasper,” You were crying harder, the man you loved frantic on the other end. “I love you Jas, I love yo-you.” You couldn't hear what he was saying, not really, the pain taking over, the darkness creeping closer and closer, the red haze getting brighter. You were dying, and everyone was too far away to save you. 

Rose’s P.O.V.

The hunt had been a successful one. We hadn't been able to hunt as a family for a long time, always something popping up meaning people would have to stay behind. Jasper was on edge, everyone could tell, obviously thinking too much about Y/N, his mate. We didn't really blame him, we all know how it feels when it comes to the care of your Bloodsinger. 

We had all finished up, just getting back to our cars when Bella’s phone rings. Jacobs name flashing across the screen, Bella answered still laughing at something Emmett had said, but her tone changed instantly. Everyone could hear the conversation. Jake sometimes freaked out about the whereabouts of Nessie, but this time it was different. Something was wrong. 

“Bella! Wheres Renesmee and Y/N?! Something is wrong, Nessie is in trouble, our bond, I can feel it she's scared, really scared, I'm going to find them now!” 

We all looked at each other and then to Jasper, he was staring at Alice, who had fear and an absent look in her eyes. 

“Y/N’s hurt.” If i wasn't already dead my heart would have stopped. All of us were at our cars in a flash, quicker to get to Port Angeles by car than running. Jasper had his phone pressed to his ear, no doubt trying frantically to call his mate. She was answering, Jasper was banging his fists against the dashboard, anger and fear radiating off his pale skin.

“C’mon darlin pick up pick up.” Pain and worry in his voice. The phone is answered. 

“Uncle Jas, Uncle Jas, there’s so much blood!” Everyone could hear Renesmee crying on the other end of the phone, then it seemed like the world stopped. Y/N’s weak voice whispered through the receiver. 

“Jas-Jasper.” She was crying, if vampires could cry, we all would be too. “Jasper, I love you.” The line went dead just as we reached the “Welcome to Port Angeles sign.” Alice had seen where they were and it didn't take a detective to figure out where Y/N would have parked. 

We just all hoped we would get there before it was too late.  

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

Comment if you'd like to be added to tag list <3

[tomdiddlyumptious]

Can u do a Tom Holland x black reader

Where there relationship has been secret for a while and reader confronts him while there with the ffh cast at a get together and they have a huge argument in front of everyone and reader starts to think he wants to keep her a secret because of what she looks like . Ending in fluff

YES. BTW IF ANYONE ELSE HAS REQUESTS THROW THEM AT ME I NEED TO MAKE IT UP TO UU GUYS🥺

Summary: huh-

Warnings: uhhhh- a dick thomas and a faking it andddd- NOW NOW NOW NANANANA NOW YÆS- jk fluff

A/n: AYO CHILL WITH THE FOLLOWS-AHHHH I LYSMMMMMMMM-

You wanted to not care, you wanted to act like your feelings weren’t hurt- but it wasn’t true, it wasn’t fair. You sigh and laid in bed with him thinking about everything you gave to him, everything you’ve done for him.....but he can’t even take you outside? What the fuck, no really. What the actual fuck.

Your blood boiled on the inside out, just looking at him clouded your mind with all these negative thoughts. You didn’t want it to happen but you couldn’t help it, and since you refused to shed a tear your head was pounding and lips slightly chapped. Hearing his moan made you jump a bit, turning your back to him as you acted sleep. “Y/n?” He whispered, turning enough to look at you and smiled, leaning over to kiss up your arm all the way to your cheek as he took his hand to rub your waist. “Y/n wake up, I wanna make you coffee” he chuckled, biting your ear before kissing it. You opened your eyes and tried best not to laugh, just something about getting caught always made you giggle.

“Hmm?” You let out when he pressed a kiss to your lips, “I wanna make you coffee” you smacked your lips and laid back down “Thomas I’m still tired” lie, you just wanted time to yourself to think about what your gonna do. “Pleaseeeee y/nnnnn!” He shook you and you groaned “fine” he smiled and bit your revealed shoulder making you squeal and try to wiggle him away leaving him laughing at you before he stood up and walked to the kitchen.

“Soooooo” he tried to ease the sudden tension sitting at the table, looking at you drinking the coffee. “Yes?” You looked up at him, placing the mug down. “Uh, I don’t know....just wanted to speak to you ya know?” “Nah I don’t” you shook your head and he furrowed his eyebrows at the mean comment, wondering what went wrong, but he knew better to bother you or else you’d go off the chain. “Zendaya wants to see you” Tom smiled, putting his hands in his lap and rubbing them together while he looked away from you. “Really?” You asked.

It was like a child and their independent, self centering father were talking....the silence loud and the father barely even caring...or at least that’s what it looked like. “Yeah, and so does Jacob, haz, Laura and tony” he cheered up, excited to see you happy. “When?” You grinned as he chuckled, “today, we have to go for lunch” he moved his chair closer to you and pressed a kiss on your forehead before holding your hand. “I love you so much, y/n” it wasn’t the first time he said that, but when he did it sent you unplesant chills as the angel and devil on your shoulders agrued.

‘If he were to love you then he would show you off’ ‘y/n no, he might be scared to’ ‘what is there to be so fücking afraid of, listen to me’ ‘stay positive! You both are gonna get there’ ‘you’ve been dating for multiple months, it’s not even fücking dating it’s like a fling at this point, just a longggg fling-‘

You cut them both out and looked at him “I-I” you choked. “Don’t worry you don’t have to say it, I already know you do” he chuckled.

‘What a cocky bitch’ ‘he just said he loves you!’ ‘He’s laughing at you because you can’t say three simple words’ ‘he’s not pressuring you into doing anything, listen to me!’ ‘You’ve been getting negative signs every single months, it’s time to fucking move on’ ‘just give him another chance! He can change!’ ‘He won’t y/n, he wont’

You didn’t know how to stick to, your angel couldn’t fight anymore because the your devil kept pointing out the larger things and storing up the pot, you chose angel this time and decided to give him one more single chance, after that it’s done. You know your worth.

You smiled up at him and put a kiss to his lips thanking him “it’s no problem princess”

After that whole shannanagin you washed the dishes and took another nap on the couch this time, you wanted to watch Disney+. Tommy woke you up and told you to get ready so you did, just something comfy like sweats and an oversized hoodie with some uggs, he wore jeans and a sweatshirt per usual. “You ready?” He asked watching you when you looked up and nodded, he smile and held his hand out for you to take and you put it there.

‘He’s using you!’ ‘He’s being nice!’

You told your conscious to shut up mentally and then poof they left, the ride was silent and playing some random songs that you couldn’t catch while he tapped his fingers on the wheel.

Once you came in the small quiet restaurant you all sat around the table saying hi to each other, tom sat next to you on the right and on the left was the boys while the rest of the girls sat across from you. Food was ordered and you all were chatting “sooo I see that you two are hanging out a whole bunch...what’s goin on?” Zendaya said. You looked at Thomas “no we aren’t together” he laughed “she’s a friend”

That hit so deep. To deep. You only nodded your head and filled your cheeks with air, Tom looked at you with a smile, his eyes happy too. “Yeah just friends!” You agree, “right” he said after, you released the air in your cheeks and bit the side of your lip. “Cool” Zendaya smiled and looked down at her plate.

Everything was normal for everyone else except you, the small people on your shoulders appearing.

‘I told youuuuu’ ‘y/n I never thought that I could agree with him’ your angel pointed to your devil ‘but I do, whatever needs to come it has to’ the devil perked up to the words, standing and walking to your ear before whispering all the things he’s done.

As you mind cakes up your eyes flare and nostrils perk and jitter, “I have to use the bathroom” you looked at Tom and he only shrugged but noticing the look in your eye he could tell somethings wrong. You stood and walked in the bathroom, your hands shook as you sat ontop of the counter, taking time to yourself to try and calm down but that’s all that you could think about. Trying to be respectful as possible.

Tom pretended to walk inside the men’s bathroom but instead came into the woman’s, seeing you stare at your hands. “Y/n?” He tried to be gentle. “What the fuck do you want, Thomas?” You looked up at him. “What-“ “get out” “tell me what’s wrong” he stepped in and the bathroom door closed by it’s self. “what’s wrong? We aren’t dating so what does that matter? Leave me alone” “I’m not leaving you a fücking lone, you need to get your act together so you can sit down with your fucking friends” he said sternly.

“What am I? Your fucking pet? Child? No the fuck I’m not!” You stood, walking over slowly. “I’ve tried my fücking best to ignore it, to suck it up, to hide it, but you fucking enrage me SO MUCH that I can’t help it!” “Shut up y/n your being to loud” “IM BEING TO LOUD? HERE ILL BE MORE FUCKING QUIETER!” You raised your voice louder.

Everyone’s eyebrows furrowed as they could hear your screams.

As you got closer he backed up more. “Y/n please-“ “what thomas? You dont wanna let everyone know what a fucking bitch you are? The fact that you LIE TO EVERYONE about our relationship”

At this point you were so blinded you didnt notice that you were infront of everyone.

“Why do you hide me away?” You genuinely asked, and suddenlyyou were crashed by a sudden rush of anxiety. “is it because i dont look like your past exes?” He was backed up against the table as you stopped right infront him, your eyes started to water as he didnt reply.

“Y/n i-“ zendaya harrison and jacob looked at tom too, it was clear what the problem was and zendaya was getting kinda mad and was waiting for an answer.

“Thomas” you begged and he had nothing, he said.... nothing.

Tears fell down his cheek as he watched you sniffle and rub your nose, grabbing your bag and running out.

Everyone watched him in silence as he leaned back into the table “excuse me” the lady gently said, tom noticed it wasnt his table so he only walked out of the store and waited outside.

He watched as you pulled out of the car but he didnt even feel like trying to make you come back, you do need to have some time to yourself.

“Fuck” he let out, wondering why he didnt say anything nor do anything. Harrison walked outside and sat next to him.

“Why?” He asked and tom looked at him. “I dont know i just felt like- i felt like my fans were gonna hurt her” “but you did” harrison pointed at tom “you didnt even give a chance and she stuck by your side for how long?” Tom told away and as he speaked he noticed how much of a dick he was......is.

You cried in the bed while you had your things out, getting ready to pack them up as you could barely breathe choking ob your sobs.

What did i do wrong? What did i do to deserve this? Should i change?

All these things running through your head and distracting yourself from putting your stuff up.

You ened up crying your ass off, crying it longer then the months that youve both been together, its all that you could think about honestly.

So when he came home you didn’t even notice your head hurt and your eyes stung, cuddling the pillow while your clothes were on the floor.

He hated seeing you like this, it made him cry and something he couldnt suck up, so when he saw you hurt and hearing your weeps it instantly hit him and made him come over and sit on the end of the bed, uncontrollable tears falling down his cheeks while he let out matching sobs.

You sat up and saw him, your eyes drying as they filled with hatred you stood and walked but tom beat you to the door, shutting it and locking it behind you.

You pointed to the door silently asking him to let you out but he shook his head refusing to. You walked up to him and tried to take his hand to pull him out the way but instead he forced his arms around your neck to hug you.

“Get off of me!” You yelled muffled. “No” he simply said, kissing your head as tears continued falling down his cheeks. “Get off- please get off!” You tried pushing him but he wouldnt budge.

“You can hit me, push me, whatever you want but im not letting you go” he gripped tighter speaking into your hair. “Fuck you” you muttered and he replied with a ‘i know’.

You both sat in silence all day and he was still hugging you but you didnt hug back until you calmed down, sobbing into his chest. “Y/n, you’re the one i want, you’re the one i need. So im begging you please... just dont leave me” he whispered starring at wall, his fingers touching your hair and trying to sooth you.

“Im scared your gonna leave me tom” you look up at him with your chin on his chest. He looker back at you “i cant even think of it, darling” he rubbed away your tears “but why-“ “i was scared” “what is there to be so afraid of?” “My fans are terrible... at least the 12 year olds” he chuckled “im scared they wont see the same beauty i see in my eyes, id rather keep you to myself then share you with this cruel world”

He reached down and kissed your forehead. “But youve been doing it for so long and-“ you sighed “i didnt feel like it was that long, you made me feel like-like you took it away. Like i could spend forever with you and it woukd seem like it was just an hour or so”

You gave him a weak smile and he returned it, reaching to meet his lips you did, the kiss salty from the shared tears but no one was complaining, you both laid in the bed and he cuddled right behind you, while you were sleep he took a picture and posted it with the caption ‘couldnt ever ask for anything better, love you y/n’

After that he shut off his phone and returned to your side and pressed a kiss on your neck before falling asleep, safe and sound.

[matthewtkachuk]

feel something pt 7 - jj maybank

On the outside, you’re a kook princess with a seemingly perfect life and a perfect family. The expectations are suffocating you, to the point where the only thing you feel is numb. You’re chasing different coping mechanisms in order to feel something. Until a chance encounter with a certain blond pogue you know you’re supposed to hate gives rise to a different kind of feeling.

Warnings: angst, toxic behaviour, poor coping mechanisms, drug usage, mentions of sex, mentions of suicidal ideations (brief), Rafe being a grade a asshole, shitty parents, abuse

Pairings: JJ x reader (eventually), Rafe x reader (slight)

Words: 3.1k

A/N: dealing with the aftermath of our runaway reader. They say you don’t kiss and tell, but some people just can’t help it. Special s/o to my babe @ohfreyfrey for her help with the end 😇 I heard yall like cliffhangers…

series masterlist

The next day, the potential consequences of your actions set in even further. This isn’t some Romeo and Juliet fairytale, you’re y/n y/l/n, your life was never going to be a fairytale. Plus, that play ended with them dying and you weren’t really into that. Taking a page out of Sarah’s playbook, you start ignoring the larger group, only speaking to Sarah and occasionally Kie. You know you’re avoiding your problems and your feelings for the blond pogue, but the alternative is terrifying.

You’re imagining allowing yourself to completely fall for him and the thought is paralyzing. It’s like handing JJ a loaded gun, showing him exactly where to shoot to kill, and then trusting him not to. You haven’t trusted anyone in a long time. Not since your parents first put their hands on you in anger, not since Jacob Kane touched you inappropriately at a party without your consent, not since Sarah Cameron dropped you without warning. It really scares you, the thought that you were willing to risk that again.

Your parents also scared you. Even if you could get the courage to fall into the unknown without JJ, you couldn’t be open with your relationship. It could never get back to either of your parents, or  there would be hell to pay. You were expected to marry rich and marry well. But the thought of spending the rest of your life with a Rafe Cameron or Topper Thornton or Kelce Smith or Jacob Kane made you physically ill. Your parents tolerated your behaviour thus far (if you could consider daily screaming matches and bruises and marks tolerating), but you knew lowering yourself to date a pogue would be the last straw. You didn’t know what they would do, but you knew it wouldn’t be anything good.

It’s two days before the texts start rolling in.

maybank: hey

maybank: just wanted to see if you were ok

maybank: did i do something wrong?

maybank: please talk to me

maybank: i can’t stop thinking about that kiss

maybank: y/n

You don’t know who gave JJ your number but you’re sure it was probably Sarah, who didn’t know when to let things be. You know the smartest thing to do would be to block him, but every time you go to click the button, you hesitate with your thumb poised over your phone and you can never do it. A part of you, one that’s honestly pretty big likes that he’s thinking of you too. It wonders if he feels the same way you do. You’re not stupid, you can acknowledge that he at least likes you a little, if that kiss was any indication. You had felt alive under his touch, with your lips pressed together. That night you had gotten drunk and stoned in your locked bedroom, trying to chase that high but you were right. Nothing would ever come close.

You’re sitting on your bed, staring at the text messages that you have memorized from the number of times you’ve read them when your door is thrown open. You look up in shock, you had definitely locked that to avoid your parents. Chick is grinning at you brightly, holding up a bobby pin to show she had picked the lock. You don’t really acknowledge her presence, only scooting over on your bed to give her room to sit with you. “Sarah’s really worried about you, you know,” she states, and you just shrug. The two of you sit in an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two, before she snatches your phone out of your grasp. You gasp and attempt to pull it from her hands, but she’s a lot smaller and a lot quicker, jumping off your bed and running towards your en suite, ready to jump in and lock the door if necessary. Understanding your odds, you resign yourself to the fate of your little sister reading your text messages and finally figuring out what’s wrong with you.

She looks up at you and gasps your full name, middle name and all, “JJ Maybank??” she screeches. You shush her quickly, not wanting to open that can of worms with your parents just yet. It’s probably a waste of time, if they’re even home they’re likely nowhere near the bedrooms, but still you want to be cautious. “JJ Maybank is the reason you’ve holed yourself up in your room and avoided everyone for four days?”

“Chick,” is your only response, tilting your head as you look at her, eyes silently begging her to stop.

“What’s the big deal, y/n? So what, you kissed a pogue, haven’t you kissed like a hundred boys?” she asks.

“Don’t slut shame me,” you tell her grumpily, “and I haven’t kissed like a hundred people. It’s just…” you trail off, unable to find the words. Or maybe you can find them, you just don’t feel like sharing with your baby sister that you’ve fallen ass over feet over JJ Maybank.

“Oh my god,” Chick says, as something like realization sparks in her eyes, and she stands up even straighter than before and exclaims, “you’re in love with him!”

“What?!” You look at her in disbelief, that was quite a jump from a kiss to love. Your tongue trips over itself as you quickly protest, “Absolutely not Chicklet, that’s actually insane!”

“Is it?” She asks, hands on her hips looking much older than her thirteen years.

“You can’t be in love with someone you’ve only known a few weeks,” you tell her drily, unimpressed with the conversation. Sure, you’ll admit that you’ve got feelings for the pogue, but love? Chick is crazy, love is crazy. That’s not what’s going on here.

“I mean, technically you’ve known him for years.” She rebuts your point.

You sigh deeply, “Okay fine, then you can’t fall in love with someone you’ve only been interested in for a few weeks.”

“So you admit you’ve been interested in him for a few weeks!” She shouts triumphantly, “Wait until I tell Sarah.”

“Chick,” you warn her, “don’t you dare.”

“Your friends are worried about you y/n! I’m not going to lie to them!” She tells you.

“Sarah and Kie will be fine, if you tell them they’ll just go even crazier than they are,” you tell her.

“They’re not the only ones worried, Sarah said they’re all worried. Especially JJ.” She explains, causing your heart to constrict at the mention of JJ worrying over you.

Brushing over the feeling in your chest, you can’t help but ask, “Even John B?” Chicks face falls a little at that, confirming your suspicion that John B still doesn’t think very highly of you. “Right, well tell Sarah and whoever else cares that I’m fine alright.”

“y/n” she says slowly, and the pity in her tone causes your heart to ache. Huffing dramatically, you slide down and under the covers, throwing your comforter over your head.

“I’m fine Chick,” you tell her, voice muffled. You regulate your breathing as you hear her steps near your bed, before she drops what you assume is your phone on your nightstand and then leaves the room, door clicking softly shut behind her.

While you’re talking with your sister, JJ is on the other side of the island in a house that is a lot smaller and less taken care of but has experienced a lot more love, having a similar conversation with the best friend he considers more of a brother.

“What is your problem? You’ve been moping around for two days like someone ran over your dog or something,” John B confronts JJ who hasn’t moved from his spot in the spare bedroom except to eat and use the washroom. JJ can’t really explain, doesn’t want to really explain. He doesn’t need to hear it from John B again about how you are the worst of the worst kook princesses and just messing with him. JJ knows it isn’t true, not that the two of you have ever spoken about it, but from that moment at Midsummers to now, he’s felt something starting between the two of you. Despite initial misgivings, he was wrong about you. Like, really wrong.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” JJ grumbles. Truthfully, he can’t get you out of his head. He had asked Sarah for your number and then proceed to not only text you, but text you five times while being left on read each time. JJ didn’t text girls, he hit it and quit it and dodged texts like it was his third day job. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was worried about you. Having been on the receiving end of a parent’s fist on more than one occasion, he wasn’t sure if you were even okay.

He thinks of how you pressed against him, the way your chapped lips felt against his, the soft feel of your hands on his jaw. He thinks of the satisfaction of finally having you in his arms, the slight lilt of hope in his chest that maybe he wasn’t alone in how he felt about you. But then he thinks of the way you froze, saw the panic in your eyes, and felt the ache in his chest as you ran from him.

“Something obviously happened between you and the princess.” John B astutely observes.

“Don’t call her that,” JJ snaps, frustrated. It’s not really John B’s fault, but the mention of the word ‘princess’ just reminds him of when you told him to call you by your name. Reminds him of that afternoon together, when you had firmly cemented your place at the forefront of his mind. When his initial attraction (and yes he was very attracted to you) had blossomed into admiration of your confidence on the waves and your kindness when dealing with Chick. When he had poked at you and entered your personal space and flustered you to the point you threatened to send him through the windshield.

John B throws his hands up. “I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with Rafe’s property,” John B tries again. JJ glares at him, body tensing up with unbridled rage thinking of the possessive way Rafe looks at you.

“She’s not-“ He has to pause to unclench his jaw and his fists, swallowing before continuing “she’s not his property John B.”

“She might as well be, the way she hangs off of him. Or are you blind?” His best friend replies.

JJ shakes his head in frustration, pulls his snapback off his head and wrings it in his grasp, “You don’t know what you’re talking about John B.”

John B gives his best friend his best incredulous look, eyes widening comically and head tilting as his hands move away from his brain to mime an explosion, complete with side effects. “Have you actually gone insane? Like, are you feeling okay dude?” John B reaches for his best friends forehead, to pretend to take his temperature, but JJ slaps his hand away.

“Fuck off,” JJ mutters when he tries to do it again, and that’s when John B realizes things are serious.

“C’mon man, what’s going on?”

“I really like her man,” JJ sighs heavily, “like really like her. I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t like girls. I mean, I do, but not like this man. I can’t stop thinking about her. I worry about her and I wonder if she’s okay. She drives me crazy, but like, in a good way. And then I kissed her, and I think I fucked it up.”

“For the record, I think this is a bad idea and I reserve the right to tell you I told you so when shit blows up,” John B warns, JJ rolls his eyes but nods, indicating for him to continue. “But, I have to ask. Did you tell her any of this or did you just mack on her and hope her wealthy parents bought her the ability to read minds.”

JJ’s silence is telling. He pulls out his phone, unable to stop the small pang of disappointment that you haven’t yet responded to any of his text messages. He can’t help but send another text, texting etiquette or whatever be damned, he’ll text you as many times as it takes for you to reply.

maybank: i just want to make sure you’re okay

seen 2:34 pm

JJ tries to not let the disappointment take root in his chest, recognizing that you need time to deal with what happened, acknowledging the many times he has gone ghost on his own friends, but the insidious feeling takes hold of him anyway. Walking away from John B, he reflects on his best friend’s advice and realizes there’s a lot he needs to tell you.

“C’mon y/n/n, you have to get out of this room,” Sarah tells you. You’ve let her into your house, realizing that you can’t just shut her out completely without her resorting to desperate measures (like enlisting your little sister in her quest for knowledge). It may have been a mistake because she’s spent the last few minutes trying to convince you to go out to a kegger.

“I don’t want to go,” you tell her, despite the fact that your base state of being has been stuck on ‘I could really use a drink’ since that kiss.

“Because you don’t want to see JJ? Because you kissed him?” She asks, sympathetically. You gasp, Sarah has been over for twenty five minutes, and you had assumed her silence on the matter meant Chick hadn’t snitched.

“I can’t believe Chick told you, you can’t trust anyone, not even your own blood,” you said dramatically.

“Chick didn’t tell me, John B did.” Sarah replies, and you’re confused at first, and then you groan.

“Oh my god, I bet he had a lot to say,” you tell her, and she winces a little. You nod to yourself, “Great, that’s great. Is JJ just telling everyone now? Does everyone know?” You can’t help the annoyed look that crosses your face, despite knowing the annoyance is just a deflection.

“Well, I’m sure JJ told Pope, and I may have let it slip to Kie.” You groan audibly, burying your head in your hands. “Listen, y/n, I was sworn to secrecy,” you roll your eyes, knowing Sarah can’t keep a secret to save her life, evidenced by the first half of her statement, “but, JJ told John B that he really likes you.”

You groan louder, “that’s worse!” but your words are muffled by your arms.

“You wanna repeat that in English that the rest of us can understand?” Sarah responds sassily, and you just groan again. She gives you a minute to mull it over before she’s grabbing you by your upper arms and shaking you.

“Hey, get off of me you psycho,” you twist in her grasp, swatting at her hands.

“Tell me what you’re thinking!” she exclaims, still wrestling with you

“I really like him!” You admit. She pauses, grip slackening long enough for you to slide out from underneath her.

“Okay, I’m failing to see the problem here,” she replies sassily, hand moving to her hip.

“Sarah, my parents! Their expectations, The Lecture, it can never happen.”

She nods in understanding, considerably more somber than before, before replying, “fuck them.”

“Sarah, come on you know it’s not that easy,” you protest, but she shakes her head and repeats herself.

“Fuck. Them.”

“Yeah, and then what? I don’t get my trust fund until I turn eighteen next year, and you can bet they’ll take it away from me if I stray away from the perfect daughter before then. And what about Chick? You don’t think that they’ll take it out on Chick if I just up and leave?” It’s not like you hadn’t thought about it, throwing it all away and starting fresh somewhere new. But you didn’t think they would let you go that easily, and you could never leave Chick behind.

“Then we’ll get my dad and Rose to do something,” Sarah continues to protest, but you shake your head.

“Sarah, stop. It’s never going to work, your dad and Rose aren’t going to go against my father.” She sighed in defeat, realizing that you weren’t going to budge. At least not yet.

“Will you please just come to the kegger? Me and Kie can run interference for you.” She pleads, Cameron pout on full display and you roll your eyes before muttering fine. Her excitement makes you smile a little, for the first time in a few days.

You don’t know why you agreed to come. There’s an anxious feeling in your chest as you take in all the moving bodies with red solo cups in their hands. You’re not sure if you’re looking to spot JJ or hoping you don’t spot him at all. Maybe it’s both, you think as you take a small sip of whatever swill is in your own red cup. You don’t know whether you would kiss him again, run away, or maybe both like the last time.

Lost in your thoughts of the blond, Rafe’s hand is on your waist before you even comprehend that he’s appeared at the party. “Heard you’re officially with Maybank now,” his grip is tight, but you’re able to peel his hand from your body.

“I’m not officially with anyone!” You let your many frustrations out on Rafe, without even a hint of guilt. “God Rafe, when are you going to leave me alone? I don’t owe you shit.” You see hurt flash in his eyes, but you frankly don’t care anymore. He is persistent to a fault, and you want to get it through his thick skull for once.

There’s a small crowd around you, mouths gaping, more than one person is on their phone, likely frantically texting everyone your business. You roll your eyes and push past them, dropping your cup on the first surface you find on your way back to your car. You don’t stop to tell Sarah you’re leaving, but you figure she’ll get the memo when she hears about your run in with Rafe, if she hasn’t heard about it already. You’re upset and frustrated, and so supremely grateful that neither your parents nor Chick are home as you stomp up the stairs and throw yourself on your bed. You didn’t need to add Rafe’s gross possessiveness to the inner turmoil running through your head.

It’s a solid twenty minutes of you just staring up at the ceiling before your phone buzzes with a text message. Figuring it’s probably Sarah and you owe her at least a brief explanation, you unlock the phone. But it’s not a message from Sarah. At the bottom of a string of unreplied to messages is a new text:

maybank: i’m outside, we need to talk

Feel something tag list (ily guys sm): @thoughtsofthestars @dreamsndior @duskangxl @agirlwholovescoffee @previouslyforgotten @http-cherries @softtfordrew @gigi-june @httpstarkey @meaganjm @oopsiedoopsie23 @margaritatimebaybee @iamaunicorn4704 @5am-cigarette @kahnacademyforfun @rudths  @llvinlavidaloca @arianabrashierstuff @realistic-breadstick @tattered-masterpiece

Everything tag list (yall are rockstars!!): @velyssaraptor @danicarosaline @copper-boom @x-lulu @prejudic3 @ohfreyfrey @downbytheouterbanks / @gforgenevieve​ @ilovejjmaybank

if you want to be added to either tag list, just shoot me an ask/message/comment love you guys!! shoot me an ask if u wanna talk about this part or literally anything i love you guys thank u for the support

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter eight: the living sea of waking dreams

word count: 10k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: emotional manipulation/some weird humiliation tactics (joseph is a fucker), some weird/uncomfortable relationships getting dredged up, john is a jealous little shit. some spooky scaries go on, blood and body horror (i think? tagging just to be safe).

notes: we've got some ~things~ going on here in this next chapter. i feel really excited about where this story is going and how we're going to get all these little threads put together, but mostly, i hope you enjoyed this chapter! we've got a lot going on but i promise, it will all (hopefully) be worth it in the end. and also, a tiny reprieve: some soft elliot, as a treat, because we deserve it.

thank you to everyone reading and giving me your feedback!! i love hearing from yall <3 special thanks to @shallow-gravy​ and @vasiktomis​​ for listening to me slog through this chap : ))))

“Knock-knock!”

Isolde took in a deep breath, closing her eyes and willing patience to the forefront of her mind. It had only been an hour or so since she’d left the chapel, Joseph’s words ringing in her head, a death knell.

Not after the things I’ve done for you.

Even still, even now—he knew how to get under her skin. She thought she’d never wanted to kiss and throttle someone in equal amounts, in the entirety that she had known them; to think that once, she had let Joseph take her in an embrace, sweep the hair from her shoulder and bury his face in her neck and whisper sweet things into her skin.

He wasn’t the same, anymore. And neither was she.

“Come in, Santiago,” said Arden, from where she had set up her little space across the cabin’s modest room. The heater on the floor rattled laboriously, clicking and chugging away. Isolde swept her eyes over Arden’s space—a small makeshift bed on the couch, the table stacked with a few books and a notepad she was scribbling dutifully on. Isolde had politely offered her the bed, even though she didn’t want to, and the woman had waved her off and said it was no trouble at all, that she often fell asleep on the couch at home anyway.

It was still weird, thinking that someone was—with Jacob. For a long time. But, she supposed if there was any Seed boy she thought would be in a long-term relationship, then—

The door to the cabin swept open, revealing the dark-haired boy from before. Well, perhaps not boy, but young man. Certainly too young and good-looking to be wasting his time with the likes of Eden’s Gate, wasn’t he?

“You don’t have to babysit me anymore, do you?” Arden asked, not once looking up from her writing.

“No, no. Unfortunately, our time together has drawn to a close.” Santiago lifted his arms, spread in defeat. His eyes, a vibrant blue, turned to Isolde. “I am actually here for you.”

“Me?” Isolde’s eyes narrowed. “For what?”

“Joseph has asked me to fetch you.”

“And you’re a good boy, so you do whatever he says,” she replied tartly.

Santiago flashed a grin that was all teeth-pearly, perfectly bleached teeth. He was far more groomed than any of the others she’d seen trawling about the compound. “I am nothing if not loyal, princesa.”

Isolde sighed, passing a hand over her face as a headache began to fester and bloom behind her eyelids. She thought she might have been more willing to kick up a fuss if she thought it was worth the drama—but it probably wasn’t. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Joseph was right; she couldn’t be of any help to them if she was being contrary just for the sake of her own spite. Even if she didn’t know where Joseph got off summoning her like she was part of the peasantry.

“Coming,” she sighed, picking her coat up off the bed and sliding it back on over her shoulders.

“A sweet word, coming from even sweet lips.”

“Alright, Romeo.”

She trudged out after Santiago in the snow, casting a quick glance around the compound. Though evening had fallen, the fluorescents surrounding lining the edges of the compound cast a cold, brutal light across it, highlighting every single pore of the place, every ragged inhabitant shuffling into their bunkhouse as watch switched and folks went to retire for the evening. Some of the roofs sagged with the weight of the snowfall, which trundled on without any kind of end in sight. Isolde couldn’t remember when she’d seen real, unadulterated sunshine last. In Georgia? Had it been that long?

None of it was anything like what John had told her. Of course, she had expected some differences—the man liked to embellish, to be sure—but the members of Eden’s Gate seemed to have lost their fire. They were wayward, adrift at sea, among waves of freezing cold water and what now seemed to be a resurgent threat that they had hoped to be rid of.

And Joseph, having comforted them so very little.

“Icy,” Santiago warned, offering her his hand as he opened the door inside with his other one. “Careful.”

“Thanks,” she muttered dryly. She took his hand anyway, pulling herself into the sputtering warmth of the chapel where—at the front—the silhouettes of Jacob and Joseph stood.

The two of them were suffused in a warm amber glow, but there was nothing warm about the mood in the room; the closer she got, she could hear Jacob’s insistent words—the firm, assertive gestures of his hands, the words, just didn’t feel like it was pertinent at the time, coming out of his mouth—the more she thought, I shouldn’t be here for this. Whatever they’re arguing about, whatever it is that’s gotten them to this point, I’m not supposed to be here.

Joseph didn’t respond to whatever it was that his brother was saying, but instead turned to look at her as she approached down the center aisle of the chapel. Despite the rattling warmth coming from several heaters placed throughout the chapel, Isolde felt a chill sink deep into the marrow of her bones.

“Thank you for coming,” he said by way of greeting. He lifted one hand and beckoned her forward when her feet slowed.

“I just hope this is something I need to be here for,” Isolde ventured cautiously, her gaze flickering to Jacob’s face. The redhead’s expression was drawn tight and hard, and not the way it normally was; it wasn’t calm and focused, but strained, like he was holding himself back from saying something to Joseph that he thought he might regret later.

She had never known Jacob to bite his tongue very much, but from her own experience with Joseph, well—he was apt at bringing out the worst in people.

“Did you know?” Joseph asked when she had finally come to a stop. “About my brother’s...” He wet his lips for a moment, his gaze darting across the empty space of the floor as he looked for the word he wanted to say. And then he landed: “Pursuits?”

Isolde blinked. “If you mean the woman he says is his partner—”

“Yes,” the blonde interjected, before she could finish—a thing he knew that she hated but he seemed unable to refrain from doing. “I do.”

Sol’s eyes narrowed. When she turned her gaze from Jacob to Joseph, she was greeted with the typical unreadable expression; as untroubled as the blue sky over a sunny sea.

But there were storm clouds. Somewhere, in there, on a horizon Joseph would not let her reach now and perhaps had not ever.

“I only knew of her today,” Isolde replied after a moment. “After we saw our little hunter out in Fall’s End, I imagine he felt it pressing that he retrieve her sooner rather than later.”

Joseph made a low noise. It was like a hm, but threatening. Hm, he said, interesting, that. But what it was he felt was so interesting about that particular line of information, Isolde couldn’t only venture a guess; and if she had to venture a guess, she would have said that it would probably be that he felt it was interesting that something was going on that he had not been aware of.

If there was one thing that she knew about Joseph, affirmatively, it was that he did not like not knowing.

“Isolde, why are you here?”

A familiar spark of anger lit, hot and fetid, in her belly. “Pardon me?

“Why are you here? In this compound? In Hope County?” Even as he spoke, Joseph’s gaze was fixed on the eldest Seed, the lines of his face peaceful and serene despite the idle venom burning in the timbre of his voice. “What did John send you here for?”

The anger burned up into soot, into dread, and sat just there, curled at the base of her neck. Isolde could not shake the idea that she had been brought in here to make a point, and that she really shouldn’t be there—that this was something Joseph and Jacob needed to settle between themselves, but that was never how Joseph had operated: fair had never been a stratagem in his playbook.

“Isolde,” Jacob said, his voice a low caution when she looked at him, shaking his head very slightly. It’s not worth it, he was saying, fighting, it’s not worth it.

“Joseph, this,” she plunged on pointedly, “is not something that I need to be a part of. I’ll go, so the two of you can—”

But when she went to depart, Joseph lifted his hand and pointed at her and ground out between his teeth, “Stay. Put.”

The poison in his voice was so potent it almost made her flinch. Almost. And then the indignation started to bloom: who do you think you are, to be talking to me like that? But they wouldn’t come; the words wouldn’t come, because when she lifted her gaze to Joseph’s and saw him looking at her, it was—

“I want you to say it, out loud, in front of Jacob,” he continued, the muscle of his jaw flexing viciously. “Tell him why John needed you here.”

Jacob said, raising his voice a little, “We all know why—”

“Because you are useless unless you are aware of what’s happening. Every detail. Isn’t that right?” he prompted. “Isolde?”

She felt her molars grind. It was clear, now, why he had asked her here. “Yes.”

Joseph turned his gaze to Jacob. “Is that what you want us to be? Want me to be? Ill-informed?”

The redhead was silent for a long heartbeat. He sucked his teeth, and said, “No, Joseph, I don’t—”

“No. More. Secrets.”

The blonde’s voice had pitched so low that she nearly couldn’t hear him, so close and low and intimate was it that he was speaking to his brother, so little space between them. Joseph looked to be controlling himself quite tightly; so very little of the leash available to himself, digging the choke chain deeper and deeper into him in an effort to remain intact.

“Joseph,” Jacob began, “I only—”

“A whole year?” the blonde bit out viciously. “An entire year you spent devoting your time to this—this—”

Isolde was familiar with the precipice at which Joseph was teetering. Right on the edge of saying something vicious and mean and unendingly cruel. She had pushed him there a few times before, in their brief few months together—had seen the way he pulled himself back time and time again, seconds away from grinding out some wretched insult.

“I won’t,” Joseph bit out, lifting a hand as though to temper himself, “tolerate it, Jacob.”

Silence stretched between the three of them for a moment, pulled taut as a rubber band. Though she knew why Joseph had wanted her here—to make a point, but also to put someone there to witness the verbal lashing—looking at the two of them now, she felt more than ever like an intruder on a world she knew so very little about.

John had done nothing to prepare her. He had given her the rosy version of the story, and even that included the cult and the killing and the residents of Hope County. It still hadn’t been enough.

The silence broke when Jacob said, “I understand, Joseph.”

For a second, there was nothing; just Joseph, sweeping his gaze over Jacob for a long moment, like he was trying to wring out any deception or sign that Jacob was being disingenuous—and of course, he could find none, and that meant there was only the tense, uncomfortable silence wadded up between them, in their own fists.

Finally, Joseph said, “That will be all,” and turned, tilting his face to the lukewarm light of the candles at the front of the chapel and closing his eyes.

The eldest Seed lingered for only a moment longer before he left; his eyes met with Isolde’s for a heartbeat before he made his decision, turning down the center walkway and heading for the doors. It wasn’t until they clicked shut that Isolde felt a tiny bit of relief—if only because the source of Joseph’s ire had now departed, and she could get a better look at him.

It was her job to make sure things were under control. John had asked her here for that exact reason—and this kind of in-fighting would be the kind of thing that would, eventually, be their unraveling if they didn’t get it under control. She had only seen Joseph so angry once before, almost over a year ago now, back before he was the Father of Eden’s Gate. Back when they had been—

There are things that I want to accomplish, and they’re best done with a wife—

“Joseph,” Isolde said, leaving the memory somewhere else—somewhere dark and deep she would never find it again, “what’s going on?”

The blonde did not open his eyes when he replied, “I cannot have secrets kept from me.” After a moment, he added, “And in that vein of thought, I should get in touch with our wayward brother.”

“Do you really think it’s that big of a deal?” she prompted again. “To have started a fight with Jacob over a woman that he—”

“Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.” His eyes fluttered open, the flicker of dark lashes illuminated by the amber glow, and he tilted his head to look at her. There was a hardness in his voice when he said, “God is perfect in knowledge, and I cannot be less. Not when He speaks directly to me.”

An unpleasant little thrill crawled down her spine when his eyes fixed on her, darting over her face like he wanted to savor her. “Then don’t use me as the whip you want to lash your brother with,” she snapped. “I’m not a humiliation tactic. You do know better than to do that to me.”

Joseph let out a little sigh. The corners of his mouth ticked upward, the shift in mood almost palpably changing the energy in the chapel—just like that, it was different. Not lighter, not better, but different.

“You’re right,” he agreed after a moment. “I do know you better than that.”

Isolde’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Deciding to forego that comment, she took a step forward, cinching her jacket in more securely around her waist. “You know what you cannot be, Joseph?” she asked. “You cannot be fighting with your brothers. Especially not the only one that’s here. Your people out there are disgruntled, and scared, and you can’t afford to be picking fights with the people who are the most loyal to you.”

“They are all,” Joseph replied, “loyal, Isolde." And then, after a moment of watching her: "Is this what you want to be doing? Herding us? Mothering us?”

“My professional opinion is that the image of your convent is severely lacking,” she bit out, once again ignoring the bait, “and the last thing you need to do is have them noticing that there’s a rift forming between the ones in charge. And yes—that is the only thing I can do for you lot at this point, and like an idiot, I agreed to come here and do it.”

Because I can’t say no to John, something tired inside of her said. Because I couldn’t say no to any of you, even if I wanted to.

The blonde reached up, and it took that gesture for Isolde to realize how closely they had drifted—it was so little effort, so little time between the movement of his hand and the time at which his fingers made contact with her cheek, brushing the hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. He moved so confidently and leisurely that Sol couldn’t think to pull back; and when she didn’t, the calloused fingertips trailed down the pillar of her throat, his eyes following their journey.

It was intimate; too soon her brain said, even though it had been so long since they had been in the same room, let alone regarded each other in even a passive capacity. But it was too soon enough that her brain fizzed out, the air moving thick as molasses in the journey between her mouth and lungs, the violent flashback of their closeness overwhelming her.

She said, “Joseph,” in a don’t kind of voice, and he dropped his hand from where it had come to a stop at the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

“It was smart of John, to ask you to come and shepherd us in his absence,” Joseph said, blithely ignoring the desperate little barb in the way Isolde said his name.

“I always thought you’d make a perfect Mother.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It had been several days since their conversation in the hallway that night, and John had barely seen hide nor hair of Elliot.

Honestly, it would have been impressive how quickly she could make herself inaccessible, were it not so frustrating. He couldn’t help but wonder what the implications there were—had she known she could do this all along, and had been indulging in him for some reason? Had she simply decided to be done and that was it, meaning that she hadn’t been done before?

Not that she was done now, anyway. Not if John had anything to say about that. But for a few days, she barely spared him a glance—passed him in the hallway when she got home with a muttered greeting on occasion. She woke before him, left to the stables without him, and left him alone in the house. Left him alone without her venom, without her eyes on him. With her mother, no less.

Scarlet was, on paper, exactly the kind of woman that John felt confident in his ability to charm. Single, wealthy by inheritance, a little older and always with a martini in hand by ten? If he couldn’t impress her, he had to be doing something wrong. But in a way that seemed to be very typical of the Honeysett women, Scarlet remained veritably unimpressed and even disdainful of his presence—even though she had insisted he stay with them.

More and more, he was becoming convinced that it was not going to be to his benefit.

“Good morning, Mr. Seed,” Scarlet greeted him from where she sat at the table, perusing her magazine. Not once did her eyes lift to meet his, and not once did an ounce of enthusiasm enter her voice. “You are missing from the stables again today, I see. Not a horse person?”

“I might find myself to be one,” John replied with a leisurely sort of bitterness, “if Elliot would only allow me to come.”

“Yes, it’s very annoying, isn’t it?” The blonde mused idly, over her cup of coffee. “To not be handed exactly what you want when you want it?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, pouring himself a cup of coffee and trying to remind himself that this was all temporary. This house, this town, Scarlet and Sylvia and Wyatt—it was all temporary, and soon enough they would be the least of his concerns. All of his time and attention would be wrapped up in Elliot and the baby, and what their lives would look like once the end had come.

Because it would come, and then she would see. She would understand that everything he’d done had been for them, for her and their baby and—

“I only want to spend as much time with her as I can,” he replied, managing to keep his tone pleasant. “Before I go back home.”

“And when are you?” Scarlet idled. “Going, I mean?” And then, in what he could only think was a stretch of graciousness: “Not that you’ve overstayed, because I am sure you would never, and Delia is quite taken with you—”

“Surely.”

“—as is Elliot, despite her best efforts to act otherwise.”

“What?” John’s head snapped to where Scarlet was still browsing her magazine, and he cleared his throat at her arched brow to try and gather his scrambled thoughts. “What I mean is, has she—said anything to you about me?”

The blonde at the table, swathed in her silk robe and curls primly pinned back away from her face, made a sound that might have been amused. Might have been, anyway, had he not turned to look at her and seen the way her face remained serene and unexpressive.

“I am not blind, Mr. Seed,” Scarlet idled. “It takes very little investigation to find that my daughter is fond of you, against my wishes and her own.”

Before John could open his mouth to respond—and press for more information while his stomach did victorious little somersaults—she turned her head to the window, when the sound of a vehicle rolling up the drive spurred Boomer on to barking in the front room.

“Oh, would you look at that,” she murmured with a little sigh. “My prodigal child, returned home at last.”

He glanced out the window to see an unfamiliar car pulling up, a black truck that took the fresh snow of the unplowed drive to the Graves-Honeysett home with ease; from the driver’s side hopped a familiar face.

“Didn’t Elliot drive there this morning?” he asked, frowning as he watched Wyatt jog around to the passenger side despite Elliot’s waving from the front for him to stop. The man had been nothing but polite—even enthused—to meet him at the bar the other night, but that didn’t mean John had forgotten the way he’d gotten comfy enough to try and touch Elliot’s face and her hair. Even now, the man grinned, all sunshine, as he opened the passenger side door for her and offered her his hand.

Scarlet replied, her attention already having departed the window, “What a silly question to ask out loud, Mr. Seed. You're not stupid, so I would beg you—try not to give me that impression.”

His eyes darted to Scarlet for a moment, briefly grateful that she wasn’t looking at him to see the spark of irritation winding its way across his face; he could feel it furrowing his brows, drawing his mouth into a hard, tight line. Setting his coffee cup on the counter, John made his way out the front door just as Wyatt and Ell were nearly there.

“Oh, hey John!” Wyatt greeted him. His eyes swept over him briefly. “Boy, you’re really put together any chance you get, huh?”

“You can never be overdressed,” John replied as amicably as he could. “Watch the steps, Ell, they’re—”

“Icy, I know,” Elliot said. She puffed out a little breath of air and brushed his offered hand aside, instead favoring the railing with one hand and the top of Boomer’s head with the other, still refusing him the courtesy of meeting his eyes. It had been days. She had never once held such a grudge against him—not really, not where he couldn’t at least get her to give him the time of day.

“Where’s the Jeep?” he asked, his voice coming out a bit tighter than he would have liked as she brushed past him. “Surely you didn’t have Wyatt ferry you out here for fun.”

“Tire’s flat,” she snipped. “Would you prefer I walked?”

“You could have called.” He took in a sharp little breath, willing the accusation away. “I would have been more than happy to pick you up, Ell.”

“Don’t have a cell phone,” Elliot replied flatly. “And Wyatt was already there.”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” Wyatt interjected hurriedly, smiling at John with pearly whites on display. “I had to come into town anyway, and it was gonna be hours before the mechanic could get out there.”

“Well, it was very kind of you all the same,” John said with a smile that felt like it pulled too tight across his face, a smile that was harder and harder to maintain with every passing second that Wyatt West put his baby-blues on Elliot. And that was often; the blonde looked a little sheepish when his gaze met John’s, drawn away from the redhead who was readily retreating into the house.

“Like I said, wasn’t any trouble. Always happy to help,” the blonde insisted, hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

“Yes,” John replied pleasantly, “I can see that.”

Wyatt blinked, flushing. “Anyway, uh...Have a nice day, John. And you too, Freckles!”

He waved before turning on his heel and heading back to the truck. As soon as the driver’s door closed and he was starting to pull away, John turned to see Elliot watching him, her eyes narrowed.

“‘I can see that’?” She scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, are we talking now?” His brows lifted, head tilting. “So kind of you, to grace me with eye contact when you’ve been storming around the last few days—”

“Don’t be a fucking baby,” Elliot snapped. “My life does not revolve around you. Especially when I can’t seem to figure out why the fuck you drove all the way here just to sulk around.”

“Perhaps it should at least be in my orbit,” John replied tersely, “considering that we are having a child together.”

“You—”

Elliot sucked in a sharp breath, clamping her mouth shut as she looked at him. There was a very brief moment where she looked like she wanted to say something, and very badly, but instead, the corner of her mouth ticked upward and she turned on her heel to walk inside without saying a word.

“It’s a cute nickname,” John continued tartly as he trailed after her. Don't walk away from me, don't, you owe me at least your attention. “Freckles. Do you prefer that one over Miss Honey?”

She closed the door behind her, promptly and without hesitation, letting it rattle in the door frame and in his face. He sucked in a sharp breath, passing a hand exhaustedly over his face.

Impudent. Surly. Ferociously, viciously, wretchedly stubborn. He knew this about her—had known this about her—and yet at every opportunity, she proved his idea of her correct, and he found himself getting more and more frustrated. It wasn’t fair, that even those moments of her attention still felt good, that the sting of her venom held some satisfaction for him, like he was addicted to it.

If she would just, came the thought, rolling over and over. If she would, if she would just, if she would just—

But just what? Just stop being that way? Would he have even liked her if she were not this purposefully obstinate problem to solve?

“No,” he sighed to himself, raking his fingers through his hair. “No, I wouldn’t.”

The reward would just have to be all that much sweeter in the end.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Three hours later, Elliot had forced herself to come to a decision.

She waffled on it for a while—going back and forth as she showered, scrubbing her hair and trying to let the hot water ease some of the growing aches and pains—and did her best to ignore the way something a little wicked chattered happily inside of her at the knowledge that John’s eyes had been sparking with jealousy. It felt immature, to like watching him squirm; more apparent than ever, too, was that old habits died hard.

There was a sick kind of satisfaction that came with finding John’s buttons and pushing them. It had felt the same way, back in Hope County—when he’d been burning with irritation and jealousy that Joseph had gotten her confession, not him, that she wouldn’t tell him what it was, pushing and pushing and jamming her finger into that button until he finally snapped and—

Kissed her.

That’s not what I’m trying to do, she thought, a little defiantly as she looked at herself in the mirror of the bathroom; tracing the WRATH scar, looking down to realize that there was, in fact, a baby bump. Oh, God, wasn’t that something fucking dreadful? Too real, but even still she’d known it was coming—worn looser, heavier clothes. She’d tried so hard not to look at herself in mirrors as of late that doing so now made her feel like she was looking at a stranger.

I’m not trying to get him to kiss me—the opposite, actually, I’m just trying to get him to fucking lay off for a minute—

And yet, as she found herself standing outside of the door to John’s room, her chest felt a little tight and her heart was doing that funny thing it liked to do when he was around; fluttering, leaping against her ribs, begging for attention. Elliot could have argued that it was just muscle memory at this point, that she had spent enough time around John letting him touch her and kiss her and say sweet things into her neck that her body was only working off of its basest instincts, and that was why she was feeling this way.

Clearing her throat, Elliot knocked on the door and said, “John?”

There was the sound of shuffling on the other side, and then his voice drifting to her: “Yes, Elliot?”

“It’s time for my appointment,” she managed out lamely. It felt even more stupid, saying it now, after she’d made such a big show of marching off after he’d committed to his display of jealousy. “Since the Jeep’s still waiting to get the tire fixed, do you think you could—”

The door swung open; John’s eyes flickered over her for a moment, his head tilting just before his mouth curved into a pleasant little smile that was two parts triumph and one part spite.

“What’s this?” he asked. “You need my help with something?”

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Don’t be an asshole, John.”

“I would never.” He propped himself up against the doorframe, folding his arms. “Wyatt’s taxi services currently unavailable?”

Already, she was regretting her decision—it had felt important, to have him along, but now she thought maybe she had been too forgiving for having forgiven anything at all.

“The appointment might be the one we figure out the baby’s gender, fuckface,” she snapped, “and since Wyatt’s not the baby’s father, I figured maybe you’d want to come in for this appointment, because it wouldn't feel right not to at least ask if you wanted to. Don’t worry though, I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you.”

“Wait!” The exclamation stopped her mid-turn from his door, the feeling of his fingers brushing the palm of her hand making her jerk out of his reach instinctively. John exhaled through his nose, and when she looked him with narrowed eyes and her arms crossed, he said, “I do want to—I want to come.”

“You sure aren’t acting like it.”

“I—Ell, I haven’t heard the baby’s heartbeat a single time,” he insisted, a little frantic. “I’ve respected that you didn’t want me there the last time, and you know, when I wasn’t here before is another thing, but finding out the gender and getting to hear the heartbeat—” He stopped, sighing. “I’m...”

Though there was a bit of pain stinging in the cavity of her chest at his earnesty, Elliot steeled herself, keeping her expression tight. “You’re what, John?” she prompted. She half-expected another blow-up; I’m the baby’s father, that baby is mine, I deserve this, it’s mine.

But instead, John’s mouth twisted and he said, “I’m—sorry.”

Elliot blinked. Had she ever heard John apologize? For anything, ever? And sincerely? She couldn’t recall a day or time in memory—and though her memory was spotty at best these days, she thought for certain that was something she would have remembered. Even when they’d been going to bury Joey, she wouldn’t let him get the words out.

“Uh,” she said very intelligently, “what?”

“I’m sorry,” John repeated, appearing a little frustrated at having to repeat himself. He shifted on his feet. “I want to come to the appointment. I mean—” And then, in what surely must have been pure agony: “Please let me come to the appointment.”

It felt so odd to hear the words coming out of his mouth that she could only blink rapidly and say, “Um, okay,” before turning and quickly heading down the hall and to the stairs. It had been her intention all along to ask John if he wanted to come to the appointment, to see the baby on the screen and find out the gender together—because despite his petty jealousy over someone he didn’t need to be concerned about in the least, and despite his insistence that he was the only person capable of loving her, she did see him making an effort instead of yanking her all the way to the other side. Even if it was a minute, tiny effort; it was an effort nonetheless.

“We’ll have to take your car,” Elliot said uneasily over her shoulder, pulling on her coat quickly. “And it’s soon, so—”

“Making haste,” John agreed from beside her. He reached over her shoulder to pull his own coat off of the rack. It wasn’t lost on her, then, that weeks ago he had gone to reach for her shoulder and she’d about jumped out of her skin; now, the smell of his cologne and his voice close to her ear was almost comforting, in an entirely self-indulgent way.

If she just broke it down to the piece of John she loved the most—his voice and the way the cologne smelled when it was on him, and the way it felt when his hands traced the scars on her hips, and the boyish grin he’d flash her—then maybe it could work. Then, maybe, things would have been fine.

But that’s not love, something inside of her said, as she made her way out the front door and to the car. John says he loves all the wretched things about you. Did you forget?

No. No, she had not forgotten the way John had kissed her when she had blood on her mouth, or the way he’d said, I would’ve fucked you there, or how it felt when he buried his face into her neck and said her name in a voice so broken she thought she might be holy.

“Too hot?” John asked, and she realized she was sitting in the car—that she had checked out halfway out the door—and they were now down at the end of the drive.

Elliot swallowed. Her face felt hot, and now it was not only because of her mind’s wanderings but also because she had been caught daydreaming.

“No,” she said, sinking back against the passenger seat. “No, it’s fine.”

He watched her for a moment before pulling out of the driveway and onto the street. She took a quick glance around the car; it was older, and sort of a beater. The kind of shitty Honda civic she’d see peeling out on the highway at 3AM because some idiot teenager thought she wouldn’t pull them over if the roads were empty. He’d probably lifted it on his way out of town to keep a low profile.

Her foot nudged something solid as she stretched out. Over the sound of the radio rattling and fuzzing tiredly, she heard a dull thunk. She squinted. It was a book. Unconditional Parenting.

“Jesus,” John muttered, “for a town this small, this traffic is a nightmare.”

“What?” Elliot asked, quickly averting her eyes from the book, feeling like she’d just rifled through someone’s personal drawer. “Oh, um—it’s a tourist town. People come here for the Christmas lights. They do like a whole lighting festival with that big tree in the square every night for weeks before Christmas.”

“And that’s why I can’t find parking.”

“That’s why you can’t find parking.”

He shot her a wry smile, taking a second loop around the square and a bit slower this time. Elliot turned her attention back out the window, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it—Unconditional Parenting. How long had he been reading baby books? Why was he so confident he’d get the chance to be a parent, anyway?

When he finally pulled into a parking spot, he let out a breath of relief. “How are we on time?”

Ell glanced at the car’s radio. “Ten minutes early,” she replied after a moment. “Right on time.”

“Great.” John paused. When neither of them moved to get out of the car, he cleared his throat and said, “So, what do you think?”

“About?” Elliot prompted. “The lighting festival?”

“What do you think baby is?” he clarified. Absently, he worried his thumbnail into the rubber of the steering wheel. “The lighting festival in a tourist town is the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Well, it should be on your mind,” she replied, a little petulant. “I think it’s nice, for the record. All of the vendors come in from out of town and even though the traffic’s a nightmare, it’s good business for the town and everyone’s always been respectful of it. Plus, the lights are nice.”

She paused, and when she looked at John, he was grinning at her. He seemed to be enjoying her firm defense of the lighting festival.

“And I think baby is a boy,” she added after a minute, pulling at a loose thread on her sweater. “Just my gut feeling.”

He seemed pleased by her answer, but if he actually was she couldn’t have said why; it was nearly impossible to read John sometimes, but especially in moments like this, in uncharted waters for them both. She lingered for a moment before she unbuckled and said quickly, “Anyway, we should probably go,” pulling herself out of the warmth of the car and into the chilly afternoon.

She wanted to go back to being angry. She wanted to go back to hating John, to being disgusted by him, to relishing in making him suffer, even just a little—but it was like her brain had reverted back to her neanderthal roots. Baby daddy reads parenting books, makes him a good father.

The sooner the moment was over and done with, the sooner she could go back to wallowing on the ways John had wronged her, instead of the ways he made her happy.

By the time they were back in the room, Elliot sitting on the end of the little bed and John in the chair under a pregnancy poster—Pregnant or thinking of getting pregnant? 3 things to discuss!—she had nearly steeled herself. If she just sat there, and replayed the last three months in her head, and reminded herself of all the reasons why she had left John behind in the first place, she would be just fine.

And then the door opened, and Dr. Harding stepped inside, and looked between Elliot and John with surprise.

“Hello, Elliot,” Harding greeted. “I see we’ve a guest today?”

“This is John,” Elliot said, trying not to sound too miserable given the riotous state of her brain. “This is the, uh—he's the father.”

John stood quickly, holding out his hand. “John Seed.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Harding,” she said, reaching out and shaking his hand. “Excited? Elliot’s told you we might find out the gender today, yes?”

“Yes and yes,” John confirmed, sounding more and more like the kind of man she had fallen for and less like the egotistical psycho she’d turned in to the government. Right, the one that had lied, and coerced, and perhaps knowingly drugged her. She couldn’t afford to forget that bit.

As Elliot went through all of the normal questions—have you been eating well, yes, I see you haven’t lost weight, yeah, how is the sleep, it’s fine—she held on tight to that little thread of knowledge. John was here because she was letting him, not for any other reason, and it did feel good to know that this whole time he’d played by her rules. As much as he could have, anyway, showing up at her house unannounced.

She settled back against the propped back, grimacing as she shimmied the hem of her sweater up and Harding put a generous amount of gel on the swell of her stomach. Between doctor’s appointments, it was easy to pretend like maybe she wasn’t pregnant. The morning sickness had faded, her appetite had come back, she was getting fine enough sleep; if she didn’t look at herself in the mirror, if she ignored the pervading aches and pains, the roundness to her features then she could pretend like things were normal.

But then John pulled the chair over to the side of the bed, his fingers brushing hers, and nothing felt even remotely close to normal.

“Alright, let’s take a look at baby, shall we?” Harding said, settling in as she began to glide the instrument across Elliot’s stomach.

“Okay,” Elliot said, feeling uneasy. John’s eyes flickered to her, and while she chewed the inside of her cheek, her fingers curled around his—a thoughtless, absent-minded gesture, like she was a heat-seeking machine and the only heat that would do was his.

He didn’t say anything, but laced their fingers together just as Harding said, “Oh, there’s baby!”

The dull, steady heartbeat echoed. When she stole a glance in his direction, John’s eyes were transfixed on the screen as Harding went over where the features were, pointing them out on the screen to him.

“Your little one is about the size of a peach right now,” Harding was saying, “and let’s just see here...”

Oh, God, she thought, feeling her stomach roll. It was so real. Too real, to be laying there, after all of this time feeling so disconnected from her own body—like a vessel, but now with John’s fingers tangled with hers and the baby’s heartbeat and a fruit analogy regarding the size it felt too real. She could no longer act like it wasn’t happening.

“It looks like we’ve got a perfectly healthy baby boy,” were the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth when Elliot’s eyes drifted from John’s face. “It might be a bit early, but that's my educated inference. Congratulations, Elliot. And daddy too, of course.”

A boy. A boy. I’m having a boy.

A perfectly healthy baby boy.

The room felt a little like it was swimming, her throat tight and a steady burning behind her eyes and nose. She sat up a little and swallowed thickly. John had come to a stand too, to get a better look at the screen, but when she squirmed and moved he looked at her.

“Ell?” he asked, sounding very far away, or like he was talking to her underwater. His hand not interlocked with hers came up to her face, and she couldn’t find it in herself to pull away—not only because of the effort it would take, but because of the way it felt to have him right there when she thought she needed him the most. “What’s wrong? Hey, baby, are you—”

“I’m okay,” Elliot managed out, her voice thick and wobbly. “I’m f-fine, I just—um—”

I’m having a boy. Oh, God, it felt so fucking real, too fucking real, but in a good way—for once, her nerve-endings felt alive, and not with anxiety and dread but with happiness.

Sounding panicked, John tilted her face up and asked again, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, a wet, raspy little laugh bubbling out of her, “nothing’s wrong, I’m just—I’m just really happy—”

It took his thumb sweeping wetness from her cheek for her to realize that she was crying. Some unshed emotion hiccuped in her chest, and she swallowed thickly, fingers wrapping around his wrist in what she understood too late was an effort to keep his hand there; skin to skin, pulse close to pulse.

I want a home with you, she’d said to him, that night, and he’d looked at her and said, You have it, Ell, I told you.

He’d said, I’m all yours.

He’d said, Take what you need from me.

Dr. Harding was saying something, speaking softly to John. It was another reminder that it had been idiotic not to let him come in the first place—there was something so inherently endearing about John mmhming and nodding along, listening raptly as the doctor went over what they would be expecting in between this appointment and the next while his thumb swept affectionately over her cheek. She was sure that she heard the reaffirmation that she needed to be getting good sleep, staying as relaxed and unstressed as possible, but she couldn’t think about that. Her brain was going on loop, on repeat.

I’m having a boy, she thought, a perfectly healthy baby boy. My baby.

When Harding patted John’s shoulder and said, “I’ll give you two a minute,” before exiting, she felt John’s fingers threading through the hair at the nape of her neck; in a gesture that was painfully intimate, his forehead pressed to hers.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “I can’t believe that—”

“I know,” she said, sniffing. “I can’t either.”

“You were right.” He grinned, their noses brushing, giving her hand a squeeze. So close to a kiss; she felt her lashes fluttering, the warmth of his hand spreading along the slope of her neck. “We’re having a boy. My God.”

Yes. We are having a boy. A perfectly healthy baby boy. Without her permission, the thought populated, permeating her brain.

Our baby.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Yes, I have him right here.”

Staci blinked. A quick intake of his surroundings reminded him that he was sitting in the cab of one of Eden’s Gates trucks—lifted from the F.A.N.G. Center. Footage of him with the cultists—the other cultists—would now be available. Footage of him walking past the corpses of Jacob’s gutted chosen would now be available.

Jacob is going to kill me, he thought, lifting his eyes from the back of the seat to look at Helmi. The woman was watching him as she spoke on the phone, with Dani sitting next to him on the backbench. Helmi had been on the phone with someone for quite a while; he’d stopped paying attention what felt like eons ago. If he just let his brain drift off, he wouldn’t think about the bodies. Fucking God, their bodies—

Jacob’s going to fucking kill me.

Helmi's hand moved. On instinct, Staci flinched, and she rolled her eyes.

“Say hello, doggy,” she said, shoving the phone against his ear. He fumbled with it for a minute before he swallowed thickly.

When he looked at Dani frantically, she frowned, her brows furrowing, and she whispered, “Don’t embarrass me, Staci.”

“Um, h...” His mouth was painfully dry. “Hello?”

“Hello. Is this Staci Pratt?”

The voice on the other end was painfully pleasant. She had the same kind of accent Dani did—Norwegian, maybe, or Swedish—but her voice was a bit deeper, a rich timbre to it.

“I am,” he replied uneasily. “I-I mean, yes. It is.”

Helmi had faced forward in the driver’s seat again and started pulling away from the F.A.N.G. Center, turning the heat down low. As the truck pulled out onto the snowy highway, she flicked the headlights off and slowed to something close to a crawl.

“S-Sorry, but—”

“You do not have to apologize to me, Staci.”

“I just don’t know—um, who you are,” he managed out. As soon as he said the words, Dani dug her elbow into his ribs; he barely stifled the yelp, looking at her as she mouthed something he couldn’t understand.

She hissed, “I told you, she is—”

“My name is Kajsa. Helmi, and your Dani, and many of our brothers and sisters are...” Her voice trailed off, and she made a thoughtful hum. Pratt tried to ignore the way she said your Dani made his heart jump in his throat. “They are my charges. It is my responsibility to take care of them.”

“Oh,” Pratt said. “So what...What do you want with me?”

“Helmi says that you have made a very good impression,” Kajsa replied sweetly. “You have important knowledge, and I want to make sure that you are safe, and taken care of. Just as I would any of the others.”

He fought back a grimace. The words sounded sweet and enticing, but he couldn’t shake the way Dani had looked at the gutted corpses on the screen and said delightedly, It will happen to us all. If we are lucky, Helmi will be the one who does it for us.

Pratt’s gaze darted up to the front. Helmi’s dark eyes fixed on his in the mirror, like she had been watching him all along.

“It is my understanding that the Seeds have not endeared you to their cause? That you know what your colleague did, that your friends have left?”

“No,” he replied quickly. “I mean—that’s right. Um, I was working for Jacob, but it was more like—”

“Do not trouble yourself with recounting. I believe you,” Kajsa interrupted. And then, gently: “It must have been horrible.”

His chest tightened. Oh, no, he thought, shaking his head and pressing the heel of his hand against his left eye. No, fuck no, don’t listen to her, Pratt, you fucking idiot.

“By now you must have some grasp of what is going on,” the woman continued, “but in case you do not, I will tell you. Are you listening, Staci Pratt?”

Pratt’s head pressed against the back of the seat. He didn’t want to; he didn’t want to listen to her sweetness, her sympathy, the way she clicked her tongue and the timbre of her voice warming him down to the marrow of his bones when he felt like he’d been freezing this whole time.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I’m listening.”

“We are well-armed. We are organized. We have a common enemy with you. And a common friend, too.” She paused, and he thought that he could hear a smile in her voice when she said, “I can tell that you want to live, my darling. That you don’t want me to have Helmi pull over and gut you open, leave you for the crows and the wolves and the woods to take you.”

Opening his mouth did nothing to inspire the words to come out of him. Nausea rolled violently in his stomach—but there was nothing left to puke up, even if he’d wanted to.

He did want to live, but not like this. Not terrified. Not. Like. This.

“I want you to live too,” Kajsa murmured on the other end.

“But you’re going to have to do something for me.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Elliot opened her eyes, it had gotten dark outside.

It took her a minute to collect her bearings, sitting up in a bed in a dark room. At her feet, Boomer huffed and sighed at the disturbance, and then she remembered; she was in her bed. Back at home. John had driven the both of them back to the house, and she’d said that she needed to lay down—and he’d let her, without protest or complaint. He hadn’t even tried to insinuate she could use a napping companion.

Pulling herself out of bed, she rubbed her eyes tiredly and glanced out the window. Everything felt a little foggy. How long had she been sleeping? Had she really been out until late into the night?

She reached absently to her bedside table, blindly fumbling for the lamp switch; after what felt like an eternity of not being able to find it, Elliot sighed and skimmed her hand over her face, looking out the window. The night outside was brighter than it had been in a while, with no clouds in the sky and the moon illuminating the snowy landscape in an unforgiving blue-white, stretching out far and far and far until it hit the treeline.

Something darted on the horizon. She blinked rapidly, taking a step closer to the window and pushing on the glass pane until it started to slide up, grinding laboriously. The longer she looked, the longer Elliot thought maybe she had just been zoning out—but then she saw it again; a flash of something, pale and long, like spider bone-white in color skittering up the dark wood of a tree in the distant treeline.

A glimpse of pale limbs. Tangled, dark hair—she couldn’t make out the color, it was too dark—but it looked wet, it looked matted, like someone had hurt it. Like someone had blown its skull open.

Something metal rattled. The trash can, she thought, her attention snapping to the front of the house. When the sound of metal crashed in the night, the motion-activated light in the front kicked on. A shadow stretched along the snow, cast long and deformed by the warping of the light.

“Hey!” Elliot shouted, but the shadow did not twitch or move in response; just the sounds of rustling, like whoever it was found themselves too preoccupied with digging through the trash can. Her heart was pounding violently in her chest; the terror that had been knotting in her stomach was doused by something hotter, redder, angrier.

Rage.

She pushed herself away from the window and out the door into the hallway. As her feet hit the stairs, there was almost no noise—just the rushing of her movements as she pushed the front door open and hurried down the front steps, turning the corner to where the garbage can sat.

“Hey, listen to me!” she snapped, propelled by the anger when she saw the figure hunched over the garbage can. “You can’t be in—”

The figure lifted its head. From the back, her eyes swept over what looked like fur, a tail, up and up to the back of a head that had two ears perched on it, until the figure’s head turned—

Fury disappeared. It was now only dread, only pure, cold dread and terror sitting in her, gutting her, washing her out as the dog with a man’s face turned and looked at her and smiled.

The square teeth, gapped and pearly, oozed with the same dark liquid as she had thought she’d seen before. In the yellow light from the porch, it glittered dark as garnets, dropping into the snow and spreading out crimson.

Move, she thought, I have to move, I have to fucking move, I have to go I have to run I have to—

“Hey!”

It was her voice. It was her voice, but it wasn’t coming out of her—it was thrown, echoing from somewhere in the trees, the dog with the man’s face spreading its mouth wider. Somehow, she knew deep in the marrow of her bones that It was making that sound.

“Hey? Listen to me?”

The pitch was all wrong. Elliot felt a moan bubbling up in her, and It turned on its hind legs, feet hanging loose around its ribcage, and faced her fully. She managed one step back before It tilted its head, as if to say, where are you going?

“Hey, listen to me!”

There was something else in its teeth. Something else, wiry and golden, and even when she willed herself a step back

(whereveryougowhereveryourun)

her body would not move; she was trapped, frozen, watching as It stepped closer

(ItwillwaitforyouItwaitsforusall)

she realized that it was hair, in It’s teeth

(ITWAITSFORYOUITWAITSFORUSALLITWILLHAVEYOU)

her hair.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she screamed.

When she lurched and twisted around, she was not met with a familiar face. It was a woman, hair dark and bundled up in winter clothes, watching her with concern furrowing her brows as the headlights of her car made Elliot squint. She immediately jerked away.

“Are you alright?” the woman asked, her hand dropping back to her side. She was tall—she had to be at least six feet tall, and her face was sharp and angular, her eyes nearly black without any light to show their color.

“Where—” Glancing around wildly, Elliot forced a swallow. She was not in front of her house. She was not even close to the front of her house. She was all the way at the end of the drive, standing in the—

“—found you in the middle of the road,” the woman said, the lilt of her accent jarring Elliot back to reality. “I was on my way home when I nearly hit you. Are you quite well?”

Her gaze snapped back to the woman. The dog; where was the dog with the man’s face? Where had she—

Every nerve-ending felt fried, like they had become pure static; she felt like she was vibrating. She stared at the dark-haired woman with the strange, rich accent, wondering why it itched at her. Weyfield was small. Too small for her to not know about someone with an accent living there.

“Who are you?” she asked after a moment, nails digging into her palms. “You don’t live around here.”

A smile stretched across the woman’s face. She had pearly teeth, and the kind of full mouth that looked pretty, sculpted—but in the smile, Elliot only thought, broken glass, her smile looks like broken glass.

Vaguely, she was aware of John’s voice; he must have heard her scream, or seen her down the driveway, the headlights of the unfamiliar car illuminating her in the dead of night. And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling. Paranoia spread along her spine, worming into her lungs, a most effective parasite.

“I know you don’t live here,” Elliot managed out, her voice trembling as she took a step forward. There was a tiny pinprick of relief when she realized she’d regained her mobility. “Why are you driving around this neighborhood? Who are you?”

The woman turned and headed back towards the driver’s side of her car, hands tucked politely into the pockets of her coat.

“You should be more careful of your sleepwalking. Someone else might not have been so kind as to stop,” she called over her shoulder. “And—”

The woman paused, the smile still rooted firmly on her face as she opened her car door.

“I hear stress is bad for the baby.”

Something wretched and vile twisted in her stomach, hot as a branding iron. The panic that shot through her system was so vicious, so potent, that for a second she felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs; it crashed over her in a wave so powerful that her vision swam and she thought, I’m going to pass out.

But there was another thought, too, squirming around in there, blinking its little emergency light:

My baby, my baby, you stay away from my baby.

“Ell!”

John’s hands landed on her before she thought think to pull away, even if she’d wanted to, as the headlights of the woman’s car turned away and began to drift down the drive. The idea that she ought to chase the car down occurred to her, but the tremble in her legs and the hitch of her breath reminded her that it would only serve to make her feel worse.

The brunette frantically checked her over, panting and out of breath as though he’d just sprinted down the drive; when his hands finally came to a stop, they were cradling her face, his eyes searching hers. Over his shoulder, she watched the receding red light of the woman’s car drifting in the dark, aimless in a sea of inky black, and she wanted to throw up.

“I heard you scream,” he said, breathless as his brows knit together at the center of his forehead. “What are you doing all the way out here? Baby, look at me, what’s wrong?”

“She knew,” Elliot managed out. Her voice felt like sandpaper grinding out of her lungs. “She knew I—she knew about our baby.”

“Who?” John looked over his shoulder, and then back at her, his thumbs smoothing over her cheekbones. “Elliot, who?”

I don’t know, but the words wouldn’t come.

I don’t know who she is,

but she knew about our baby,

and she has a smile like broken glass,

and a mouth as red as blood.

[missnight0wl]

Wayward Son

I finally succumbed and wrote an AU fanfic where Jacob dies. It focuses on a few moments between the siblings over the years after the Cursed Vaults. And to be fair, death aspect aside, most of it is basically canon for their relationship.

And yes, the title is a reference to the song by Kansas because it does make me think of Jacob.

Words: 5560

Autumn, 1991

When Helena declared that she wanted to stay longer at home after her graduation, her parents seemed to take it as an obvious decision. Physically, she was completely well even before September. She wasn’t going to waste it, so she started helping at the grandparents’ bakery. Mentally, however… She still needed to heal. And they all needed some time together.

Jacob stayed at home as well. He insisted that he wanted to pass his N.E.W.T.s, and with some help from Dumbledore, he managed to get permission to take exams in June next year without going back to school. He was studying a bit, but usually, he was spending his days similar to his sister: trying to find his place. It had to be more difficult for him because of his absence. Some things had changed their place at the house, people had altered some of their customs. He got new habits too. For their mother, it was especially hard to accept his smoking. Nevertheless, they were surviving, learning each other anew. Helena liked in particular when they were catching up on all pop culture Jacob had missed. It felt familiar, almost like childhood. Almost like it could be normal again.

The days weren’t the worst with all their distractions. When the nights fell, though, it meant either sleepless hours or endless nightmares. If Helena woke up with a scream, Jacob would always run into her room, sitting on her bed and cradling her.

“Shhh. It’s okay, you’re safe,” he’d say, stroking her hair. “I’m here, I’m finally here. It’s just a dream…”

But it hardly was just a dream. Usually, it was her memories - and Jacob knew that.

“Will you sing to me?” she asked quietly once when she calmed down.

He chuckled softly. “Aren’t you too old for that?”

“Please?”

He sighed, left without a choice. They both got more comfortable on the bed, although Jacob was probably too tall for that. He cleared his throat, yet his voice was rather raspy when he began. It didn’t occur to her that he probably hadn’t sung in ages. Still, it quickly turned into a sound she remembered from years ago. Only before the last verse, he made a longer pause.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

You make me happy when skies are grey.

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.

Please, don’t take my sunshine away.

Spring, 1992

They were sitting at the table, and she was sceptically watching him staring at his books.

“You don’t need it, Jacob.”

He glanced at her before starting to browse pages. “But I want it.”

“Then why you’re just pretending that you’re studying?”

He cracked a smile, already knowing where she’s going with that. “Because I know most of those things.”

“See? Then you don’t need it.” She leant back in her chair. “Admit it, you’re just stalling before moving on.”

“Fine, maybe a little,” he replied, finally looking at her again.

She shook her head and sighed. “Bill should be here any moment now. I’ll go get my things.”

She left the room and went upstairs. She’d packed most of her belonging, but she still wanted to double-check everything. Besides, it’d take her mind off Jacob for a while. She was a little worried about him, but she didn’t want to nudge him. It was always hard to recognise if he was going through something because he was great at redirecting people’s attention, but it wasn’t even about him suppressing his emotions. It seemed like he was trying to get back the stolen time and feared that leaving would make it lost forever. As a result, he was stuck. He was offered a job at Gringotts with Helena, but he refused, making excuses about his exams. She wanted to do more for him, but she was ready for the next step, and she felt that if she wouldn’t take it, she’d got stuck as well.

She gathered her luggage and was about to get back to the living room when she heard Jacob and Bill talking.

“You sure you don’t want anything? Tea, water?”

“No, thanks.”

There was a moment of silence before Jacob spoke again. “You know, I never got a chance to thank you.”

“Hm?”

“For being a brother to her. When I failed--”

“Don’t,” Bill tried to interrupt him.

“No, I mean it. Thank you for taking care of her.” He took a deep breath before continuing, more tentatively. “It’s weird to think that you probably know her better than I ever could...”

Another pause preceded Bill asking: “What was she like as a child?”

“Oh.” Jacob got surprised by that question, but when he started to talk, Helena could almost hear him smiling. “She was like sunshine. Brightening your day and pissing off when she shone straight into your eyes. I suppose you know how it can be with younger siblings.” Bill laughed, and Jacob went on. “She… she was so curious about everything. They say there’s a certain age when kids won’t stop asking questions, but for Helena it was permanent. And she always had to defend everyone. Y’know, when Snape started teaching us, I complained about him back home, and she was like: you can’t say that, you don’t know him.” He modified his tone slightly to imitate her. “Maybe he has problems. You’re sometimes mean when you’re upset, too, but you’re a good person.”

They both chuckled.

“Well, she did change her mind on Snape, I can tell you that,” said Bill. “But other than that, sounds pretty much like Helena I know. Give her some time, Jacob. Give yourself time.”

The silence between them was longer now, so Helena took a few steps back to get some natural speed and pushed the door open. Two wizards were standing opposite each other and got startled when she entered.

“I thought I hear you,” she grinned at Bill. “What are you two plotting here, hm?”

“Oh, nothing at all,” the redhead replied with an innocent expression.

“Just gossiping about you,” Jacob added casually.

She gave them a suspicious stare. “Is that so?” She’d love to tease them, but they had to arrive with Bill at the appointed hour, so she glanced at her watch instead and then at her friend. “All right, I think I’m ready. We can get going.”

“You sure you have everything?” asked Jacob. Their parents said their goodbyes in the morning before leaving to work, so he took the responsibility of sending Helena off. “Mum left you package in the kitchen, did you take it? Do you have sunglasses? The cooler ones? What about sun cream?”

“I have everything,” she stopped his babbling with a hug.

“Be careful there, okay?”

She tightened her embrace in respond, feeling his ribs against her body. He still didn’t put on much weight.

Winter, 1994

Dear Jacob,

What the fuck do you mean you’re not coming? It’s Dad’s sixtieth birthday. SIXTIETH. You have to come. I don’t care what other plans you have - you knew about that day. Tell that pretty girl (or whatever you’re busy with nowadays) that you have responsibilities at home.

Seriously though, I know that you want to be here too, so… Please, try to make it.

Love you always,

- Ellie

“I can’t believe he didn’t come.”

“It’s all right, Ellie,” said Christopher. “I’m sure something just came up. He can visit us at the weekend.”

“Something came up? On your birthday?” Helena spat. “You know, but it’s not even that. He could’ve just let us know, say anything. It’s hard for all of us, but why he shouldn’t be trying too?”

Alice gave her a stern look. “Well, now you’re just picking on him.”

“I’m not! Mum, you got him a job at the Ministry. A good job. And what did he do? He quit--”

“That job was a bad idea from the beginning. You’d probably quit as well.”

“No, I wouldn’t!”

Alice only smiled softly. “You’re really not that different. Believe me, I know.”

The truth was that Helena was picking on Jacob. She indeed had no reasons to be mad at him, other than him not showing up on that specific day. He did quit his job, that part was accurate. But while she was certain that he’s getting in all sorts of troubles ever since, he never caused problems for them. He always appeared when his help was needed, during holidays or not. On top of that, Helena caught him a couple of times hiding money in places like a sugar bowl since their parents wouldn’t simply take it from him. But all of that made the current situation only worse. In the best-case scenario, it meant that he’s not telling her something big enough to stop him without giving any explanation. He could also be hurt, kidnapped, or worse…

“All I’m saying is that he has no excuse. Even if he’s too drunk or high to Apparate, he could’ve used stupid Floo Network or--”

And then, just like on command, the emerald green flames appeared in the fireplace, and Jacob entered the room, appearing quite confused.

“Did I make it?” he asked nobody in particular. He beamed when he looked at the clock. It was half-past eleven. He faced Christopher, spreading his arms wide. “Happy birthday, old chap.”

Over the whole day, the birthday man was trying to act unaffected by Jacob’s absence. Yet, he obviously got happier seeing his son.

“I’m so, so sorry that I’m late,” Jacob continued, not breaking their hug. “But! I do have an explanation!”

Helena rolled her eyes. Of course he did. Still, she got curious when he reached to his bag and took out a package covered in brown paper.

“I’ve found a lead for that a while ago, however, a bloke who was supposed to get it for me had some problems, and… let’s say he needed a reminder. Anyway, it created a delay, and long story short, I couldn’t risk not getting it at all after all the effort, so… That happened. And I’m really sorry once again, I should’ve known better from the beginning. But! At least I got some wine!”

When Christopher started to unwrap the gift, Jacob hurried to welcome both Alice and Helena.

“Oh my, is it the first edition?” Christopher was already holding an old book in his hands, studying the front page, his eyes twinkling.

“One of the first ones,” clarified Jacob. “But it has notes made by a professor from Uagadou.”

The old man looked at him excited before carefully browsing a couple of pages. “Oh, I have to compare it with my atlas. I’ll be right back.”

He left the room, patting Jacob on a shoulder while passing by. When he was gone, Alice looked attentively at her son.

“And I wonder how much did it cost you?”

Jacob shrugged and smirked. “A lovely dinner with my family.” He opened his bag again, pulling out two bottles of wine. “Did everyone leave already?”

“They did, not long before you came,” Alice replied softly.

To break the silence, Helena grabbed one of the bottles. “What about that wine? It looks fancy.”

“It is quite fancy. But this one is for Dad, and for Mum. We have the other one.” She looked at the other label and frowned her nose. “It’s the cheapest one they had, and it tastes like acid.” Jacob was clearly amused by his sister’s reaction.

Alice got up. “I’ll go bring some glasses then, how about that?” Then, she also left, letting the siblings stay alone.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” Jacob asked finally.

“I thought we agreed to no secrets.”

This time it was him who rolled his eyes. “It’s no secret! I just wanted it to be a surprise!”

“Still, you could’ve told me! I’d cover for you!”

He was quiet for a moment, pondering on his words. A corner of his lips twitched faintly. “You know you’re terrible at surprises, Ellie.”

“That’s not true!” she said reproachfully. He only raised his eyebrow. “Oh, because I’d go to Dad and tell him everything, right?”

“No, but you’d tell Mum, and she’s no better than you.”

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. Then, not thinking much, she opened the cheaper bottle and took a sip. She grimaced, regretting her decision immediately.

“I warned you it tastes like acid.” He was trying very hard to hold a laugh. “It gets somewhat better the more you drink.”

All four of them were sitting and talking until the late night, so by the time Helena woke up the next day, it was already noon. She got down to the kitchen where she found an unfinished bottle of wine as it turned out that Jacob brought bigger supplies with him. She took a clean glass and poured some liquor when her brother showed up out of nowhere and snatched it out of her hand.

“Ah ah ah, what do you think you’re doing?” he teased her.

She sighed. “I’m having a drink.”

“No, you’re not, young lady.”

“Jacob, I’m twenty-one. If I want to have a drink, you’re not gonna stop me.”

“I don’t care how old you are. It’s only past twelve.”

She gave him a stink eye because he was holding two glasses at the moment: hers and his own. “I’m guessing it’s your third one, you hypocrite.”

He seemed a bit perplexed for an instant, but then he grinned. “Only the second.” Still, he put both glasses on the side when Helena started brewing coffee.

“So, what you’re planning now?” she asked and covered a yawn.

“Like today or in general?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Well,” he started. “I wanted to visit grandparents’ today. That’s probably most of the day. And in general, I thought I could stay with you for a little.”

“Oh! But… I’m getting back to work.”

“I know. I wouldn’t bother you, I can get busy on my own or help you, whichever you prefer. And in the evenings, we could do something fun. What d’you say?”

Every now and then, Jacob would stop by whenever she was currently at her curse-breaking mission. However, he never stayed for long. They’d usually get out once, and after making sure she’s alright, he’d disappear. Spending more time together could be nice.

“Sure, sounds good,” she replied with a smile, filling two mugs with coffee.

Summer, 1995

Jacob was pacing between walls, running his fingers through his hair once in a while.

“We should leave,” he said eventually, stopping and crossing his arms.

Helena looked at him in disbelief. “What?”

“We should leave. I don’t know, to the States or whatever.”

“There’s a war coming, and you want to leave?”

“Yeah, exactly. You’re not gonna tell me it’s not a better solution than becoming Dumbledore’s soldier.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again, not being able to find the words. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Jacob, innocent people will be dying!”

“I know! You think I don’t?!” He started losing control over his voice. “But there are people ready to fight for them, and we don’t have to be among them! Even if Voldemort is back, he never got beyond Great Britain, so there’s no reason to think it’d be different any time soon. We’d be safe across the ocean.”

“How can you be so selfish?”

“I’m selfish?!” He made a sound between a gasp and a snigger, but when he spoke again, he was more steady. “Ellie, who helped you with the Cursed Vaults? Dumbledore? Who cared when we had to stop R which was, let me remind you, an international threat?”

“Oh, so that’s why we should do nothing now? Because that’s how we were treated? Do you hear yourself?! An eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind, Jacob, and passiveness can be as bad as violence! There will be more wizards thinking like you, but if we all leave, who’ll stay to fight?”

He wasn’t looking at her, and he switched to almost a whisper. “I was never selfish in my life. Never selfish enough to let the adults deal with all the cursed mess, as they should. Though, you know? Maybe I was selfish, maybe I just wanted to feel useful, fucking protector of everyone.” He sighed. “But you know where it got me? My best friend died when he was just fifteen, I had to leave my family, and I was imprisoned for years by R. Ellie, I…” His voice cracked and he swallowed hard, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just for once, I don’t want to worry about people being in danger. If it’s selfish of me, so be it.” Their eyes finally met. “I don’t care. I just want some peace.”

“Well, that’s not how life works.”

She left, not giving him a chance to reply.

The rest of the day, she spent with some of her friends, learning more about the whole situation connected to Voldemort’s return. The first shock - caused also by Cedric’s death - had passed, and they had to focus on planning. Still, Helena kept going back in thoughts to Jacob. She probably was too harsh on him. She saw where he’s coming from. In fact, sending their parents off to the family in the States wasn’t a bad idea at all. She came home late, so she went straight to her bedroom to think things over.

The next morning, however, it was neither Christopher nor Alice who she found in the kitchen – it was Jacob.

“What you’re doing here?”

“Breakfast,” he replied blandly.

“No, I mean, I thought you’d just leave after yesterday.”

“Someone has to keep an eye on everything when you’re in Egypt, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t tell you I’m going back there…”

“Yeah, well.”

He was chopping some vegetables while eggs were frying on a pan. There’s a joking rule in their family that you could use magic in the kitchen only if you’d learnt to make the dish also without it. Jacob always preferred to prepare things Muggle way, though. Helena could never match him, even with the help of the spells.

“Thank you,” she said abashedly, sitting at the kitchen island.

“For what? Food’s not ready.”

“For joining our side.”

“No, my dear. Let’s make it clear,” he spoke firmly, involuntarily pointing a knife in her direction. “I’m on no one’s side but yours. Got it?”

“So… you’re not joining the Order?”

“Hell no.”

“Well, thank you anyway,” she repeated. “And I’m sorry. For yesterday. I don’t think you’re selfish at all.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He still sounded a bit coldly, but he smirked ever so slightly. “Just…” His voice got softer as he knitted his brows in a worried expression. “I beg you, Ellie, be smart. Just because you’ll be outside Europe doesn’t mean it’ll be safe. It’ll be hell everywhere. And above all, remember: no information is worth dying for.”

“I know, I know…” She reassured him, though it felt like there’s not much she could say. “So, what are you planning to do?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “Maybe I could renew some connections in Knockturn Alley.”

“Oh, because that sounds very safe.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he cut in. “I’m aware of that. And that was my point. If you get involved, it’ll always be dangerous. But because you’re too stubborn to listen, I can’t simply… sit and watch, y’know. I don’t want to hear from some strangers one day: Hey, remember that cursed siblings? Yeah, the younger one just died. She was killed by fucking Death Eaters because she refused to learn from her brother’s mistakes. And he screwed up again because he could’ve done something.”

She bit her lips to hide a smile. Jacob only glanced at her, shaking his head with feigned disapproval before he focused back at his cooking.

May 1998

It was getting crowded at the Hog’s Head when Helena spotted Jacob near the door waving his hand at her. She immediately rushed to him.

“Jacob! You came!”

He frowned in confusion. “Of course. I told you so.”

“I guess part of me wanted you to not come…”

“Do you really think I’d let you go into a battle alone?” he asked raising his eyebrow.

“I’m not alone,” she replied, mindlessly pulling his flannel. “And you don’t want to be here.”

“And I don’t want you to be here either. But I know I won’t convince you to leave because Charlie’s here. And he’s here because his whole family is here. And I’m definitely not gonna discuss with all the Weasleys because it’d be both pointless and possibly stupid.” His smile faded away when Helena didn’t even react to his joke. “Hey, we faced worse before, didn’t we? At least we’re not the main target for a change, right?”

She nodded haltingly as Jacob embraced her with one arm, leading away from the entrance.

By the time they arrived at Hogwarts, the battle was raging. It was overwhelming chaos with troops of people storming to the castle. Helena was keeping both Charlie and Jacob in the reach of her sight, but as they were in the Entrance Hall, one scream caught their attention among all the noises.

“Fire! There’s a fire!” yelled someone.

“Then put it down!” they heard in a respond.

“I can’t! They had to cast Fiendfyre!”

Three of them froze. If it actually was the curse, there’s no way students could deal with it, and it’d be bad to let it spread. On the other hand, it could’ve been regular fire, looking more dangerous due to fear and panic.

“I’ll go check it,” decided Jacob. “We’ll meet in the Great Hall. Look after her, okay?” he added, smirking at Charlie.

Helena briefly squeezed his hand. “Be careful.”

In the next moment, Jacob was running up the staircase while Helena and Charlie joined the crowd moving to the Great Hall where most of the fighting was occurring. It seemed like they’re gaining the advantage over Death Eaters, but it was still heated, and spells were shooting from all sides. Helena had just helped some girls counter an attack and was looking for Charlie when she felt a sudden sharp headache. For a split second, her vision went black, which was enough distraction to not notice a beam of light speeding in her direction. She tried to dodge it, but it was too late, and the spell grazed her side, causing her to fall.

“Nell!” Charlie appeared almost out of nowhere and kneeled next to her. “Are you all right? Talk to me…”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she hurried to calm him down, though she grimaced with pain.

Charlie quickly checked the spot where she was hit. Her blouse was torn, revealing red skin, but there was no wound. “Come on, let’s take you from here.”

He helped her get up and led her to the edges of the room where he spotted Ben Copper tending to two students.

“Ben! We need you!”

The Healer hearing his name turned his head to them. “What happened?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” replied Helena. “I can--”

“No, you have to rest at least,” Charlie cut in. “Keep an eye on her, Ben.”

He deflected one more spell and run back into the fight. Ben in the meantime tried to examine her, but she gently pushed him away.

“It’s nothing, really. There’s no time for that.”

She was calm but determined, so Ben didn’t push. “All right, but you’re not going back there. I need some cover when I take care of those two.”

He pointed to a Hufflepuff girl and a Ravenclaw boy behind them, both visibly scared. Helena nodded and took her position. Everyone’s attention seemed to concentrate towards the centre of the Great Hall, so they weren’t being attacked directly, but stray curses almost hit them a couple of times. Helena also managed to stop some Death Eaters, whether from escaping or assaulting the others.

Suddenly, the shouting in the middle became louder, and the whole atmosphere got more tense. Helena was too far to tell what’s it about exactly, though - until almost all went silent. She exchanged questioning looks with Ben.

“Go, see what’s happening,” he told her.

When she finally broke into the crowd, she realised that everyone was paralysed because of the encounter within the circle. The Boy Who Lived was facing the Dark Lord. She tensely watched them moving in constant distance between them, looking ready to attack. She listened to the story of the Elder Wand, of the big intrigue behind that war.  And then, with just one hit from both sides, it was over. Voldemort was dead.

The joyful cheering exploded around her. Everyone was trying to reach Harry Potter now, pushing her in that direction. But she needed to find someone else. She was scanning people in search of familiar faces to finally pick up Charlie’s. She ran right into his arms, laughing with relief. However, when she made sure that he’s all right, she felt a wave of anxiety.

“Have you seen Jacob?” she asked, holding onto his arm.

Charlie shook his head and his face got graver. “There are so many people. I still haven’t seen everyone.”

“I better go search for him…”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” He sounded confident, but she knew it was only because she needed to hear that. Anything could’ve happened, and a bad feeling was growing inside her chest.

She left the Great Hall, going oppositely to the most. She didn’t get far when she met Rowan, and she almost sobbed at her sight.

“Helen!”

“Rowan! You’re all right!” she whimpered, hugging her tightly. “Oh god, I didn’t see you at all, I didn’t know--”

Her voice cracked, so Rowan started patting her back calmingly. When they finally parted, Helena noticed an open wound on her friend’s arm.

“Oh god, you’re not all right!”

“It’s not a big deal.” Rowan waved her hand. “I’ll take care of it in a moment.”

Helena frowned, but she nodded and swallowed hard. “Have you seen Jacob somewhere?”

Rowan’s eyes got wider. “No, I haven’t. I thought he’d be with you.”

“He was. But then we got separated.”

“He’s probably helping people around the castle. There’s a lot of the injured. Do you want me to help you find him?”

Helena looked at her arm and took a deep breath. “No. It doesn’t look good, you better have it checked.”

Rowan hesitated, but she agreed to go see the Healers while Helena continued her search, walking faster through the debris, calling Jacob’s name. She started to think that perhaps they missed each other and she should return… when she finally spotted him on one of the higher levels. He was lying unconscious under the wall. There had to be a cut on his head because blood covered a part of his face.

“No…”

She approached him slowly as if it could delay the terrible truth. She fell to her knees and leant over him, cupping his face.

“Jacob, can you hear me?” She brushed his cheek with her thumb. “Open your eyes, Jacob…” She laid her fingers on his neck. There was no pulse. “Open your eyes, please,” she repeated. “Don’t do this to me…”

She wanted to believe that if she waited long enough, if she’d be patient enough, he’d come back – just like Rowan. That it’s not real, just another lie in her life. But at the same time, she knew that Jacob was truly gone. It was a battle, and he was just one of the casualties.  She didn’t even know how he died.

She sat on the ground, leaning on the wall, and pulled Jacob up on her chest. She wasn’t sure how long she was holding him before she heard footsteps and Charlie got down next to her. He didn’t speak.

“It’s not fair, Charlie,” she whispered, sniffling.

“I know.”

“It wasn’t his war, he didn’t even want to fight. We should’ve left as he said.”

Charlie tried to touch her arm, but she got startled, so he just sat by her side instead.

“He already saved that fucking school! And for what?!” she cried out. “To be killed like that?!”

Her last words turned into a shriek. She pulled Jacob’s body up again as it was slipping from her grasp. He was too heavy, and she was too tired to carry him. Some more time had passed before they were found by Ben.

“Helen…” he started softly. “I’m so sorry. But we have to take him to the Great Hall.”

She finally raised her head and looked at them. Ben was squatting in front of her, Charlie still in the same place. She took a deep breath and carefully rested Jacob against the wall. Then, Charlie helped her stand up once more that day, and she immediately buried her face in his chest. She couldn’t watch Jacob being taken away. When she looked at Charlie, though, she recognised that there’s more bad news to come.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, trying to contain trembling of her voice. “Who else?”

His eyes were glistening. “Tonks… and her husband… they didn’t make it.” Helena covered her mouth with both hands. “And Fred--” The words stuck in his throat.

“He’s just a kid…” she murmured, hugging him again. “I’m sorry, Charlie…”

She wanted to stay with him and comfort him. She wanted to find Rowan and make sure that nobody else got hurt. But all the noises were overwhelming, and she felt like she started suffocating.

“I have to get out of here. I’m sorry…”

She somehow reached the exit, not fully registering things around her. Only some young excited wizard stopped her when she was about to leave.

“We won! Can you believe it?!”

“Did we, really…?”

He was too thrilled to notice her blank stare, and so he quickly went his way. As soon as Helena got outside, she choked on the morning air. She sat on the stairs and embraced herself in an attempt to control the shaking of her body.

“Hey, may I?”

Another minutes or hours escaped her attention. This time, it was Talbott standing above her. She nodded without a word, and he took a seat on one of the steps.

“I’ve heard about your brother. I’m really sorry.”

She bit her lips to stop a weep, but the tears fell down her face. They were sitting a long moment in silence.

“Will it always hurt?” she finally said weakly.

Talbott watched her with compassion. “Yeah.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Move on,” he replied softly. “Find something worth forgetting about the pain. And most importantly, always remember the good things.” He hesitated before patting her shoulder. “Tonks would want us to celebrate the victory,” he added with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you need to.”

And like that, she was left alone. She hid her face in her hands. It suddenly occurred to her that her parents probably didn’t know anything yet, so she wondered whether she should go back to the castle or home. But then, she was disturbed again.

“Hey, are you all right?”

She had to shade her eyes from the sun to see who’s talking to her. To her surprise, it was Harry Potter himself. The Boy Who Lived who just defeated the Dark Lord was asking her if she’s all right. He was the same age as her when she entered the final Cursed Vault. The same age as Jacob when he joined R. She suddenly felt bad because if her experience taught her anything, probably nobody showed much concern about Harry in all of that. When the wizarding world would stop relying on children to solve their problems?

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

He took a closer look at her. “Do we know each other?”

“No, I don’t think so. I mean, I know you…”

“No, but I’m pretty sure I saw you at the Burrow.”

“Oh!” She smiled faintly at that remark. It was almost funny that they never had an occasion to be introduced properly. “That is possible, indeed.”

“Well, nice to finally meet you then. I’m Harry.”

He reached out his hand to her. He appeared as exhausted as she felt. “Helena.”

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

She nodded. “Don’t mind me. But I guess you could use some help with those blankets.”

She took a part of the armful he was carrying, and they headed together back inside. She started helping wherever it was needed. She found Rowan being tended to by Ben and who was upset with him because he didn’t let her go find Helena – but he insisted that Rowan’s wound might’ve been too serious. She spent some time with the Weasleys, grieving over Fred. She was trying to keep herself busy and bring consolation to the others.

And the same thought was motivating her in years to come, just to not let herself get lost in the emptiness. Eventually, she even learnt to be happy again. But nothing could change the fact that in the Battle of Hogwarts she lost not only brother and friends. Part of herself died that day as well.

[looselucy]

November

I walked out of my Thursday lecture with a spring in my step, still incredibly happy that thanks to my schedule, I always had a four day weekend, only actually expected in uni on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. I did have to try not to think about how much I was paying simply to do those 3 days a week, because that would ruin the whole thing.

I pulled my phone out of my bag and rang Zayn straight away, hugging my coat tight around me, the weather as shocking as always, drizzle soaking me through. “Alright!” Zayn beamed down the phone. “You need some booze? I’m going to the shop now, I’ll pick you some up.” “Yes! A bottle of vodka, please.” “No worries. Okay, I’ll see you soon.” “WAIT!” He yelled. “What?” “Guess who I’ve just met?” “Who?” I quizzed. “New boy.” I hadn’t had an interaction with him since the morning / afternoon before, when I first met him. He had stayed locked in his room, not coming out to introduce himself or make any kind of effort with anyone. It was safe to say, I had a bad impression of him from the get go. “Really?” “Yeah. He seemed alright. I invited him to drink with us tonight but I don’t think he’s up for it.” “Maybe he doesn’t drink.” I tried to have his back, for some reason. “Nah I asked him that. Said he does.” I scoffed out loud and rolled my eyes, because to me it just sounded like he couldn’t be arsed making any effort with us, and if that was how he was going to be, I would do the same to him. “Fuck him then.” I replied. “If he doesn’t wanna get involved I’m not gunna put in any effort. He seems like a bit of an arse to me.” “I think he seems sound.” I knew Zayn was just excited to have another lad around. He got on well enough with Mike, but the two of them weren’t really similar. Zayn, even though he was a lads-lad, had ended up developing closer friendships with the girls he lived with. And I think he was excited to have another boy around. “Did you find out his name?” I grinned. “Umm, no. Sorry.” “Oh for fuck sake.” I groaned. “I needed to know beforehand so I could have time to like... think up some snotty comment about it. Something witty. You have been absolutely zero help with my plan, Zayn.” “Sorry, but he like, started asking about my tattoos and we got chatting and I didn’t even think!” God, it was ridiculous how utterly desperate I was just to make some stupid comment about his name, so I could high-five myself and start walking off into the sunset with a massive smile on my face. So I could die happy just knowing I had made fun of his name. But I was never too good at thinking up comebacks on the spot. I needed time to mentally prepare myself and think up something hilarious, so everyone could laugh with me and what’s-his-name could cringe for the rest of his life. Zayn was not helping me. “Woops.” He chuckled. “That’s my new name for you. Zero help Zayn.” “You’re a pain in the arse!” “Right, I’ll be back soon. Whack the kettle on.” I groaned. “Don’t forget my vodka, Pain In The Arse Pippa.” “Fuck off!” I laughed, before swiftly hanging up. + + + Myself and Tally sat expertly doing our makeup on my bedroom floor, using the mirror on the back of my door to prepare ourselves for the evening ahead, hair done and outfits on, almost ready. “Y’know, Zayn is dead keen on having this new chap drink with us tonight.” Tally said. “I finally saw him too. You didn’t say he was so fucking fit Pippa!” “Urgh, I know. I’ve been trying to forget about it.” I nearly rubbed over my eyes, forgetting my fresh mascara. “Seriously. He is nice.” It was easier to dislike him when I could forget how nice he was on my tired, hungover eyes that morning, how it looked like I could have cracked a coconut on his fucking abs. “Hm.” I tried not to think about it. “I think we should ask him to drink with us.” “Why?” “Maybe you just got the wrong impression. Or like... maybe he didn’t mean to take the piss. If we spend the night with him, we can all make a good, solid judgment.” I wanted to disagree with her, but she was totally right. I knew I was being dramatic, but that was me through and through, as much as I’d like to deny it, I had always been a pretty dramatic person. So maybe I had misconstrued what he meant a little. Maybe I heard it wrong, and he wasn’t being as snotty as I first thought. It was probably a good idea to give him a second chance. “Suppose.” I sighed. “Right. Yeah. Let’s go invite him.” “Now?” “Yeah yeah yeah. You ready?” She nodded, and we awkwardly stood up, pulling down our dresses as soon as we were on our feet to make sure our bums remained covered. I wasn’t nervous as we approached his door, thankfully. We had shared a few light vodkas in my room whilst we were getting ready, and I was prepared to be nice to him and make the effort. Tally seemed a little more nervous, definitely the type of person who needed a number of drinks in her to be confident around lads that looked like this one. But I was holding up nicely. I knocked loud and chipper on his door, hearing a few scuttles from inside before he opened the door wide, face low, unenthusiastic, looking between both of us like we were mad for being there. And in that moment, I realised even that my first impression was going to stick. “Hi.” I smiled. “We were wondering if you wanted to come out tonight?” His eyebrows dropped even lower, looking us up and down now, a little stuck for a reply, and clearly uninterested by the idea. “I dunno.” He groaned. “Not sure it’s my scene.” “Well, why don’t you come and find out?” I tried my best not to roll my eyes, but the fact he thought he had a scene made it difficult. Zayn walked out of his room, dressed ready for the night, pushing his long hair out of his eyes, greeting the new boy with a slight raise of his chin, which was returned. And I knew it wouldn’t be me who would be able to convince this guy to make some effort with the people he lived with; to actually introduce himself and not be such an arse. Zayn said he had gotten a good impression of him, so if anyone was going to convince him, it would be Zayn. “C’mon, man.” He began his attempts. “I’ll share my vodka.” He looked as though he really didn’t want to. If it was me who had kept asking him, there was no way in hell he would have said yes. I could tell right off he was one of those lads-lads, but not in the same way Zayn was. He was the type who always wanted beers with the lads, and laughs with the lads, and pulling girls with the lads, and it made me cringe. I was really trying not to snort at the whole idea of the boy in front of me. “Alright, I’ll get ready.” He hesitated. He swiftly shut the door in my face, all three of us feeling the gust form the harsh action, stood a little baffled by the interaction. “Prick.” I mumbled, finally rolling my eyes, feeling the relief off my shoulders, having ached to do it. The three of us wandered into the kitchen, Zayn running to be the first to put his phone in the speakers, sticking his fingers up at us and laughing, pleased with himself. He put on music that, unsurprisingly, me and Tally had never heard, but it was perfect to drink to. Hearing noise, Mike jumped out of his room, one of those people who could smell fun from a mile off. “We drinking? We going out?” His eyes lit up, obviously forgetting we’d already invited him that very afternoon. “Yeah.” I giggled over my shoulder, pouring myself and Tally a drink. “Yes!” He clapped and rubbed his hands together. “Where we going?” “Guess?” Tally smiled, sinking into the sofa. “Thimble?” “Damn right.” Zayn smirked, taking a big swig of his strong drink. We all went and sat down on the settees, fresh drinks in our hands and our bottles down by our sides, ready to top up our beverages once we had emptied our cups, which would probably happen pretty quickly if we played Ring of Fire, like we always bloody did. Zayn had even poured a drink for the newbie. Only a few minutes after his reluctant acceptance of our invite, new boy walked calmly out of his room. He was wearing a black baggy top (thankfully covering that body, and that stupid tattoo) skinny black jeans, and light tan boots. I could see Tally’s mouth drop from beside me. He pulled out a camping chair we had purchased in our first week here, knowing there just wasn’t enough space for everyone, and I quite enjoyed seeing him sat on a pink chair with butterflies on it, and a little drinks holder, seeming more uncomfortable by the second. “Glad you changed your mind, man.” Zayn reached a hand across to him. “What’s your name?” This is it, I thought. This is my moment. The moment of truth. Come on Pippa, be witty. Think of something quick. Get him good. Humiliate him. Make me proud. “Harry.” He replied, voice stupidly low. “Harry what?” I asked, I needed more to work with. “Harry Styles.” I was aggressively tapping my foot, trying to think of something funny to say, something hilarious and something to belittle him… but there was absolutely no way it was happening. It was a perfectly fine name, nothing could come to my mind quickly enough because his name was... a fucking decent name. I could see Zayn staring at me, egging me to say something quickly before it just got weird, but I had to bite my tongue. I had nothing. “Umm, well I’m Zayn. Malik.” “Mike Jones. The girl hiding in her room is called Ringo. Don’t know her last name, don’t even know if that’s her real first name, to be honest, mate.” Harry chuckled to himself, and then turned to Tally, waiting for her to introduce herself. “I’m Tally Jacobs.” She breathed steadily. He then turned to me quickly, an annoying smirk on his face and I knew he was going to say something that would boil my blood. “What’s your name again?” He looked me up and down. “I can’t remember what it was, I just remember it was funny.” “Pippa Payne.” I shot him daggers. “Fucking hell!” He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Gutted.” Everyone was awkward. Zayn even cleared his throat, for fuck sake. Mike downed his drink in about two seconds and Tally was just staring at Harry, now understanding why I’d gotten such a bad impression of him. “What the fuck is your problem?” I gawped. “Nowt.” He held is hands up in surrender. “Just... your mum must have been fucked on morphine when she named you that.” “And your mum must have thought of the most typical name she could, for a typical, boring, bog-standard, British twat.” That just made him laugh more, clutching at his stomach, probably liking that he had gotten a rise out of me. “Least there’s not alliteration in my name.” He raised his drink to me proudly, before downing it all. If I could have gotten away with smacking him in the face without everyone there thinking I had completely lost my mind, I genuinely would have done. I hated him. Never before had I come to such a quick conclusion about anyone, but with him my mind was firmly made up. I think a part of it was the fact he was so clearly trying to wind me up. It reminded me of being younger, having an older brother and dad who knew exactly how to piss me off, they were bloody experts and they did it at every given opportunity. Thankfully, over the years they had grown out of picking on me, and I was bloody grateful for it. I hated it. Some lad that had stormed into my life, someone I was going to have to live with, who was clearly getting a kick out of pissing me off as much as he could. I shouldn’t have reacted to him, really. It probably would have put a stop to it right then, but I couldn’t help myself. I topped up my coke with more vodka, feeling his eyes on me and a smirk on his mouth, and he knew from the start I was the perfect target for him. “So, what you studying?” Zayn asked Harry, trying to move the conversation on. “Photography.” He answered. I would have taken the piss out of him, but I probably would have taken photography myself if my parents hadn’t told me it wasn’t worth a degree, that I should stick to something solid like English and just enjoy taking photos on the side. Truth be told I hadn’t bothered to take any since they told me to forget it. “Nice, man. I do art.” Zayn replied. Harry looked next to Mike, obviously wanting to go around the group again, and I suppose I was just surprised he was showing interest in any of us. “Me and Tally do theatre.” Mike told him. “How about you P.P?” He grinned. P.P. Like pee-pee. The guy should have been taking a degree on how to grind on my nerves. He’d pass with flying colours. “English.” I told him glumly. He didn’t say anything snarky, he just curved his lips downwards, shrugged, and raised his eyebrows. Unfazed, uninterested. Everyone did interesting subjects to do with the arts in our flat, other than me. Ringo, unsurprisingly, was doing music. For the first time since I’d moved in, I felt boring, and I knew Harry was thinking that too, but even he wasn’t that rude, to just come right out and say it. The look on his face said it all. “Any-fucking-way,” Mike clapped his hands together. “This conversation is boring as shit. I say we drink and talk about interesting things, like other times we’ve been drunk... And stories about drinks and... anything other than fucking uni, ‘cause I’m definitely not going to my lecture tomorrow.” “Cheers to that!” Harry raised his glass again, in the direction of Zayn and Mike, pretty much ignoring me and Tally. + + + “You’re drunk!” Zayn shouted in my ear. “Am not!” I yelled back. “Yes you are!” He poked my stomach playfully. I tried to pretend that didn’t make me feel like I was going to throw up, but it definitely did, probably because I was as drunk as Zayn had been telling me I was. Why I felt the need to deny it every time, I’ll never know. I was happy to admit the morning after how much of a mess I was, but when it actually came to someone pointing it out to me in the peak of my drunkness, I was all up for pretending I was as sober as a judge. “I’m not! I’ve not even hardly even drank anything. You’re drunk.” I scoffed. “I love you.” He yelled. “I love you more!” We had to yell. It was loud, and we were stood in the middle of the dancefloor declaring our love for one another. I knew me and Tally were always going to be close, we were girly-girls and we worked well together. But me and Zayn had something a little more special. I knew out of everyone, now that Grace had gone, I would be closest with him. “Are you two fucking?” We heard. I turned around, stumbling forward and knocking my forehead into Harry’s chest, before stumbling back, Zayn catching my shoulders to try and keep me steady. “She’s my best fucking mate!” Zayn pointed aggressively. “My best... My best friend.” Harry looked me up and down, and I knew he didn’t expect me to best friends with Zayn. Zayn was all tattoos and long hair and totally, undoubtedly interesting. He just was. I was a pretty typical girl. I got drunk easily, cried a lot, liked wearing dresses and doing my hair and makeup for a night out and giggling about boys with girls. Maybe to look at, we weren’t matched to be best mates, but in other ways, we totally were. We were similar and we connected well. We were best mates. And I knew that. So I stuck my middle finger up at Harry, before he could say anything else. He ignored me, and talked directly to Zayn. “I got the tabs.” “Sound, man! Let’s do it.” Zayn replied eagerly. Harry looked around him for some reason, probably not realising that we were in the grottiest club this town had to offer, and no one would bat an eye at them taking drugs in the middle of the dancefloor. Everyone other than me. It didn’t surprise me that Zayn was into that kind of thing, I think he had mentioned it briefly before, but I certainly hadn’t seen it. Harry handed a small, pink pill over to Zayn. I kept my eyes on the curly haired prick as he stuck his tongue out, and placed a pill on it, staring right back at me as he tucked his tongue back into his mouth, raising his eyebrows as though he had just accomplished something. “You want one, P.P?” “Nope. Not from you.” I scowled. Not that I would have taken drugs from anyone else, it totally wasn’t my thing. I had once taken some kind of MDMA at college and I thought I was the queen of the world, yet woke up remembering very little, in the middle of a puddle down some street near my old home, alone and lost and totally vulnerable. Never to be repeated. The only reason I got through that come-down was because Timmy-Two, my dog, must have sensed that I wasn’t all there, and he stayed sat on my lap all day. “You scared?” He asked me. “No!” I growled. “You are.” “I’m not fucking scared!” “I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to call you Pip-Squeak from now on. Suits your personality more. You scared, Pip-Squeak?” “Are you really trying to manipulate me? Like, is this peer pressure? Are we twelve?” He chuckled, before opening his mouth wide, revealing how empty it was to me, like he thought I would be impressed by his idiotic ways. I was sad Zayn was going along with it. Especially drunk. When I was drunk, it was like Zayn was choosing Harry over me. Totally not the case, I realised at a later date, but in that moment Zayn may as well have skipped off hand in hand with Harry, singing ‘make friends make friends never never break friends’’ leaving me in a pool of my own tears, in the middle of Thimble. “ZEE!” We all turned around to where the yell of one of Zayn’s nicknames came from, and my heart fluttered seeing the lad I had met on Monday night in the same place. “LOU-LOU!” Zayn cupped his mouth for dramatic effect. They shared a hug again, and he was all smiles and friendliness and I wished that it was him who had moved in with us, rather than the complete arsehole whose new life aim was to make me furious. Louis turned to me, drunk and fascinating to look at, another boy who somehow had a tan even though we lived in the UK, in the bloody North of the UK. “The Crier.” He addressed me with a smile. “That’s me.” I smiled back, wishing to sober up to impress him. “What?” Harry chortled from beside us. “You get pissy with me for calling you Pip-Squeak, and this kid walks in calling you The Crier and you’re swooning? You two are definitely fucking.” I looked over to Louis, and I was happy to see him looking Harry up and down with a displeased look. He then pointed a finger towards him, and turned to Zayn. “Who the fuck is this?” “Shit.” The effect of whatever Zayn had taken was hitting him fast, but he just seemed drowsy. “This is Harry. Umm. Shit. I forgot your last name, bro.” “Styles.” ”You’re Harry Styles?” Louis gawped. I groaned, thinking I’d done it quietly but it came out extremely loud, because the fact Louis knew his name lead me to believe they’d be fast friends. “Yeah.” Harry looked confused. “You got kicked out of our halls!” Louis beamed. “I heard about what you did! Nice work, man.” “Cheers.” Harry smirked. I was bitterly disappointed as the two lads started shaking hands, and I ignored them as they sparked up a conversation, turning around to face Zayn, who was dancing on his spot with his eyes shut tight. “You’re my best friend!” I slurred, poking his chest. “Mine.” He went to bite my finger, laughing away to himself, and I knew no matter how fucked he was he would never try to bite Harry’s finger, even if he really, really wanted to. He was my best friend. I turned around in time to see Louis reject a pill from Harry, which made me like him all the more. I grabbed hold of his shoulder, hoping it wasn’t a rude way to grab his attention, but I was drunk and it was done. “You want a drink?” I asked, even though it was not a wise idea. “Only if I’m buying.” He smirked at me. I was almost sure he’d just flirted with me. But he couldn’t have done. He was just being nice. A nice boy with a nice face. I was fucked. “Yeah. Um. Okay.” I spluttered. I guess that did sober me up a bit. Any attention I ever got from boys, if any, went unnoticed unless a boy automatically grabbed my attention. I’d never been the type to settle for any boy on a night out. But most boys that caught my eye, I failed to catch theirs. I had a slight inkling in that moment that maybe, I had caught Louis’ eye. And that terrified me. He ticked his head towards the bar, revealing a devilish grin to me. Honestly, I don’t really remember anything after that drink. + + + I had made it to my bed. That was the first thing I thought when I woke up the morning after. Grateful, so, so grateful, that I was in my bed. Even if it was a rubbish, rock hard, single bed. At least it was a bed, and I was in it. I then realised what had made me wake up, after a second set of knocks went off against my bedroom door. “Come in!” My voice failed me. “I can’t it’s locked.” I heard Zayn on the other side. “Don’t make me get out of bed!” “Come on. I need to go to my lecture in like five minutes!” He knocked again. “I can’t move. I want to, honestly. My day would be off to a flying start seeing your face Zayn-” “You’re a sarcastic little shit.” He huffed. “- but that involves moving. Something that I am not capable of right now.” I could hear him mumbling that he hated me over and over again, possibly lightly banging his forehead against the door. I smiled to myself, enjoying the reaction I was getting from him. “Fine.” He eventually huffed. “I guess we won’t discuss the fact you kissed Louis last night.” I practically fell out of bed, before running over to the door, nearly colliding head first with it before I twisted the lock and swung the door open, seeing that stupid grin on his face because he knew that was going to work. “I did what now?” I gawped. “I knew you wouldn’t remember.” “Did I really?” “Yeah.” “Holy. Shit.” I had kissed Louis. I was the Queen of the world knowing that. I didn’t remember it. It was probably awful and based on vodka rather than attraction but I just thought I was the greatest person in the world. My hangover was practically cured. “You were a mess.” Zayn chortled. “You’re one to talk, Mr Drugs.” “I don’t turn down free drugs, Pip. This is something you should learn about me.” It had shocked me how common drugs were as soon as I went to uni, how common it was for people to be using them and for it to be this completely casual thing, rather than a big deal like it had been only a few, short, innocent years before. They were everywhere. And everyone took them. “I’m well proud of myself.” I leaned against the doorframe. “Do you remember what you said to Harry?” He asked me next. “What? No! Why? Shit! What did I say?” I knew it was going to be bad, something I should have kept to myself, because I didn’t have a positive word to say about him. “I dunno.” Zayn now hushed his tone. “Something along the lines of being an arrogant prick, to stay away from you. And you were all like, you’re not my type of person and I’m not yours so lets keep it at that.” I cringed. I meant every word but that didn’t mean they needed to be said. It made me just as bad as him, if not worse. “That’ll be nice and awkward.” I cursed myself. “You’re telling me, mate!” He puffed. “Right. I’ve gotta go. It’s just a drawing session, so I’ll only be a couple of hours then I’m gunna cook for everyone.” “You’re my favourite.” I pinched his cheek. “Fuck off!” He swatted my hand away. “Reyt, I’ll see you in a bit.” “Would you-” “Yes. I’ll ask Louis about it. And let him know you’re amazing, blah blah.” “Love you.” I cooed. He rolled his eyes and flipped me off over his shoulder as he let himself out of the flat, always choosing to bob down the stairs rather than take the lift, something I would never understand. Almost on cue, I heard a lock, that was uncomfortably close, unlocking. Harry let himself out of the room next to mine, his room, eyed me up and down once, before walking up to the kitchen, shouting over his shoulder just to bring my hangover back, and to make me like him even less. “You look like shit, Pip-Squeak.”

[shotgunsandstars]

Q&A chap 93-101

Hold onto your butts

Ch 93

The ‘thanks Xazz, I hate it’ coming out of the reviews from this chapter filled me with so much life okay? I didn’t need to eat for a week because I was sustained solely on your suffering lols.

Everyone crying about why I killed John I’ll let you in on some inside baseball.

Originally Andrew was going to have more of a redemption arc. But then I decided… you know what? Fuck that guy. He doesn’t get one. Just because you feel bad about what you did doesn’t excuse your abuse or earn you a redemption. Also he hadn’t been as present as he needed to be to earn a redemption arc. He was going to be more around for the Atlantis attack and get a good death but… bitch didn’t deserve it. So John took his place and it was rather poignant that John died, the last of Desmond’s biological family he accepted to having, and he’s found by his adopted family, covered in the blood of their covenant. Since the saying is that the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.

Also I knew all of you would cry when I killed John, which was delicious. I cried too okay. I was not immune.

To say he's done enough. Did John mean he's done enough to save the world or enough good and bad in his life? Maybe he's ready to join the rest of his family in death?

He’d done enough killing. He’d done enough saving. He’d done enough to see that the world was going to be okay. He’d finally saved his baby sister and his baby brothers he couldn’t before through Desmond. John is someone from a world that won’t exist in a few hours. He’s enough. He’s done enough.

you said you regret creating Jake now and would rather he had remained Jacob. Is that why you decided to put Malik to sleep for now as part of your storyline with Jacob and Tommy?

No. Not at all. The character acts the way they would act regardless of what could have been. I literally said why Malik decided to go to sleep. Like I literally don’t know how I can make this any clearer.

Though I prefer your Tincture, tbh, where she never sinks into depression and Altair is Des' biological father and they escape the Farm.

While I do also prefer that it also… isn’t good for the story. Desmond does half of this shit because he’s abandoned. Because he has no family. He is constantly seeking validation, family, and love because he was denied those things growing up. Sadly, if those things don’t happen then none of FM happens because Desmond has no drive to go out and seek the validation of being valued and needed and loved by someone else.

@Wren

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Just wondering why you've gotten away from the bird theme in Flocking Movement, Xazz? Every chapter used to be a bird name or something related to avians. Not that I don't like it, just curious.

What??? 95% of the chapters in this story are bird themed. And the rest are themed around flight or the sky. There are like 300 chapters of FM in total, all of them with unique title names. I didn’t want to just resort to calling chapters by bird names exclusively. That’s rather boring. Just these last few chapters haven’t been exclusively tied to birds.

What has been your fave chapter in each Flocking Movement story, Xazz?

My favorite chapter? Hmmmm. That’s an interesting question.

For FM my fave is chapter 24: Seven Ulama. You know, the one where Desmond thinks Altair’s fucking dead. Bird on a Glass Bridge (25) is also very good cause that’s the first time I bring up Duncan and Desmond nearly breaks Jacob’s arm. The entire arc in those chapters is def by fave in the first story.

In 17th I actually really like chapter 1: Yolk. It was very fun to write. But chapters 37+38 were my faves because DesLucy and also you got to see Desmond just SNAP. I’d had those chapters written for months before they were posted XD

For Triad, to literally no one’s surprise, my favorite chapter is 12: Muninn: My Story Isn’t Pleasant; it Tastes of Folly, of Madness and Dream, the Life of all People Who No Longer Want to Lie to Themselves. Which other than I love it for it’s huge and unwieldy title is also all about my favorite sad, pissed off, son; Duncan.

At the time of writing for Terrible Things my favorite chapter is 36: Wishbone. It was verrrry fun to write. I also really enjoyed 57: Mother of Owls andddd 85: The Freer: Rain Goddess. I have a lot of other chapters I really love in Terrible Things but those are my top 3 :D

For Tincture it’s absolutely 100%, chapter 1: For You. I’m pretty sure I teared up writing it. For Eden is also A+

My fave in Legacy… oh boy. There are a bunch I like. 18: The Pyromancer’s Daughter (for obvious reasons). 10: He is the Sunrise, and its counterpart chapter, 14: The Dusk. And 15: You Lean Towards Dispair because I like hurting myself. God I love that one. It chokes me up every time.

Desmond is finally at the doorstep of the Unnamed, so it's time for me to get some final speculation done. I'm positive that whatever he will do will kill him either immediately or induce the beginnings of brain atrophy. The knowledge/power of turning the tide will take its pound of flesh. I have a feeling this will be the end of the immortals as well. Maybe it'll be part of the price that Des has to pay to accomplish everything he wants.

No. I’ve been saying for years that Desmond does not fucking die.

why did Cain never tell Altair about adrenaline Waking up immortals faster?

The last time Cain had a civil conversation with Altair was literally in the 1440s. And even if he did tell Altair at the time there was no way to get Epinephrine until literally 1900 when the compound was isolated and could be synthasized. Which if you remember… Cain was busy rotting in a cell in a Germany Vault. Cain also didn’t have the words to describe to Altair what adrenaline was. He had words to explain how it worked in hado but Altair… doesn’t know hado and other than to talk to Cain in his mother tongue has no use for hado. And then after Altair abandoned Cain in 1446 they rarely had any civil conversations. Mostly it was spitting words and Cain getting under Altair’s skin to get a reaction out of him since he didn’t seem moved by Cain’s requests for Altair to ‘come home’.

is Hawk still using his glass computer he built before the Apocalypse, or did he make a new, updated one after getting access to Demeter's technology and equipment?

Given the equipment Hawk literally builds himself a new computer every time there’s any sort of hardware update. He had the glass computer in 17th because he literally could not get any more advanced than that for the tech available. But now he’s had access to Demeter and things on the Ilythian ships. He’s nearly figured out personal holographic interfaces, which not even proeathans had really figured out. They could make big holographic stuff like the AI but the power and mechanisms required to power them weren’t suitable for small, personal, use. Hawk has absolitely upgraded. Once tech comes back he’s fully ready to replace his eyeballs with mini cybernetic things and when he’s ready to change that too he’ll just kill himself and everything will reset (he’d have the fake eyes removed first cause having his body consume something that large while he’s Under and then replace them would take a long time)

Did John think Kaley's exile would be permanent from the family? That Troy would never get over his pride and forgive her?

He didn’t think Kay’s exile would be permament. He figured Troy would realize he didn’t have a suitable heir and bring Kaley back. But then one of John’s brothers’ children showed signs of having the Sight and it didn’t matter. Troy just wanted an heir, which for him could only be filled with someone like him with the Sight. That was why Kaley’s probably temporary exile turned into a permenant one.

Will [Mary] have a bigger role in teaching future Angels?

Idk. Maybe.

Is he the first true Stadalla to enter an Unnamed?

Desmond is the 17th named stadalla. As in, there have been 16 true stadallas before him. Only one didn’t actually enter the Unnamed but is still regarded as a stadalla. There were also other people who were born to be a stadalla but just… never reached their full potential. What makes a stadalla isn’t actually that rare. It’s just the nature of their psychic ability. Just so few actually realize that they are that sort of powerful psyhic being to go to the Unnamed.

Kaley was just as responsible for preventing unwanted pregnancies as Andrew, so they share blame for Duncan.

Just because Kaley probably made sure Andrew wore a condom doesn’t mean that he didn’t fuck it up. Condoms are easy to sabotogue if you want to and Andrew knew the pretty, politically powerful, Kaley Miles was his ticket to being accepted as an Assassin. Also Kaley probably wasn’t on birth control because of the nature of how and where she lived. Also someone mentioned somewhere (I don’t remember where) that Kaley probably knew how to drive and could just leave Willow Creek to get an abortion herself because she wasn’t a prisoner and lols WHAT!?

Kaley wasn’t a ‘prisoner’ but she wasn’t free okay. Troy was very controlling of her entire life and body and she was a prisoner of her life being raised in a specific way to make her into something specific. Kaley could not drive, Troy didn’t see a reason for her to learn since she would be staying at Willow Creek with him, and she couldn’t just leave Willow Creek. A big facility like that no one just comes and goes as they please in a car. And if Kaley decided to walk out she’d be found pretty quickly. Like as fierce as Kaley is she is very sheltered and very dependant on her father because she was raised that way. She’s never been to a city before. She has very little concept of life outside of Willow Creek. Mostly because Troy was too afraid she’d be killed like his wife if she was allowed anywhere he couldn’t control.

Like you guys gotta remember. The Assassins are a cult. A fucking creepy fucking cult that trains children to fight so they grow up to be killers. The Assassins are just that; assassins, as in they fucking kill people. People born into the Assassins are basically brain washed from birth to believe their rhetoric and that their way is right and good and they are doing good things for humanity by basically playing god and deciding who gets to live and die.

Also Andrew wasn’t above marital rape which… yeah.

If Des survives the Unnamed, will he be psionically exhausted again?

He’ll be tired but he’ll be… different. It won’t be like when he over extended himself. He’ll have realized himself and his exhaustion will just be from working so much without rest and less life threatening than psionic exhaustion.

He and Des never really had the chance to bond. Des' fault, certainly.

Neither of them are blameless. Don’t put all the fault on a man who was lied to about the nature of their connection when he trusted John to be upfront.

Who took over Willow Creek and the Miles clan after Troy's death? Was it John?

Probably Arlyn or Eric honestly. They both had kids and were younger. John had no heirs and was gay. Troy wouldn’t have put a son who would feel it a burden to continue the line to be the leader of Willow Creek. Eric and Arlyn also did produce at least one Sighted kid. So Troy had them as an heir /shrug

Heron why you gotta cut me deep like this? I’m happy FM is ending cause it’s such a huge monster of a thing and I’m glad the book is being closed on it. On the other… this is like the only place some of ya’ll talk to me on. Which is kinda depressing. I’m literally gonna lose a bunch of friends when this story is over (even if sometimes you guys drive me up a wall. That’s kinda what friends are for lols.)

Chapter 95

(There was some weird overlap in reviews here cause I don’t know how to pick chapters correctly /sigh)

So the Unnamed messes with memories too. That's good to know. /Sarcasm

The Unnamed is a strong independant woman who doesn’t need your sass *hair flip*

I guess Lucy was able to get in with him because the Unnamed doesn't recognise her as a real person.

No that’s literally it. She’s not ‘real’.

Just when I thought Desmond was going to do some epic mind-bending, reality-warping stuff, you've thrown this little curveball.

That’s still going to still happen idk what you’re talking about.

Maybe she's the next Tiamat in more ways than one - a synth who's about to become a Stadalla should she survive the Unnamed. Maybe it'll take two (or even three if Tiamat somehow makes it here) Stadalla to ensure that the cycles of civilization and apocalypse don't keep repeating.

Lucy isn’t a stadalla. She’s was a synth designed to be human. Desmond… isn’t human. Well, not all human. She’s physically incapable of being a stadalla because of what a stadalla actually is.

How did they make the decision for Lucy to accompany Desmond into the Unnamed?

Cause Lucy was getting fucking shot at and followed Desmond into the Unnamed to avoid being fucking shot.

Tiamat explained long ago in OotTT that almost everyone the Proeathans sent into the Unnamed to unlock its secrets died, and the few survivors came out with total amnesia. Except for Tiamat herself, of course. I would've thought Desmond would be too scared to risk Lucy's life bringing her in.

Except synths. And ho shit WHAT DO YOU KNOW!?!?!?

Maybe in 20 years or so [Rinchen] could accompany Desmond into an Unnamed structure?

Why? Like for what purpose? It isn’t a toy. It isn’t a training chamber or anything like that. What purpose does some random human, and remind you, Rinchen is HUMAN, have to be going into the Unnamed just because he shares looks (and not genetics) with and was adopted by Cain?

Didn't you write once there's more than one Unnamed in the world?

No. One Unnamed. The constructs are connected to the Unnamed but they are not the Unnamed or like it or can compare to its power in any way.

Anyway, I could see Rinchen being rebellious and wanting to understand the nature of who and what he is better and venturing into the Unnamed to get answers. And Desmond having to go in after the kid to rescue him since Cain probably can't go in. Desmond is the hero of this piece. Or Lucy could go in to rescue Rinchen, too.

Yeah. Let’s play a fun prank and enter a giant arch I know kills things that enter it to give my dad a heart attack. Honestly if Rinchen tried to go into it he’d just walk through it. Or appear to walk through it. No memory of walking in, seeing fucking nothing, and then walking out after a split second. Duncan would just be like ‘oh, you aren’t supposed to be here Rinchen’ and once Rinchen had decided he’d had enough of literally seeing nothing but white emptiness he’d walk back out and Duncan would memory wipe him for safety so he’d forget the time he was inside.

Tiamat probably not as she must be dying of cryo sickness like the others. She may be synthetic, but she was in a cryostasis chamber for 75,000 years just like the other Proeathans. It would take a toll on her living body, too.

Nah. Tiamat decided that that was bullshit and she wasn’t ready to die yet so she just decided ‘nope, I’m not sick now’. Because that’s what it looks like when you have the psionic power of a god.

I'm guessing time doesn't pass the same way inside the Unnamed as it does in the real world? Who built this thing and why?

Time passes how you want it to pass in the Unnamed. Who and why it was built is in 96.

A bridge. A bridge to past and a bridge to the future.

It’s more an allusion to that chapter in FM after Altair got ‘killed’ and Desmond had his fucking freak out. Same name, just a little different.

Why a house with a white picket fence? Seems like a weird choice especially since Des is saying he finds the house creepy.

Duncan is doing his best okay. He doesn’t know what else to show Desmond. He can’t read Desmond’s mind and doesn’t know Desmond yet either. The white picket fence is a classic dream for Americans and that’s what Duncan is working with.

Or maybe this is about Des facing his fears? Everyone must do that at some point in their lives if they want to grow, to become more. To own his fears would make Des stronger, to conquer them would make him unstoppable.

It ain’t that deep

You must be writing and concluding this story at break neck speed

Not really. I’ve got other things to do lols

So did Des expect to die when he entered the Unnamed?

Not immediatly. But he does expect whatever he does in the Unnamed to kill him.

Why did he risk Lucy by taking her into the Unnamed with him? Od warned him that most everyone who ever tried to enter died. That seems careless and Des is never careless with Lucy.

*Makes a loud fart noise with their hand and mouth*

Will they remember anything about the Unnamed to tell the others when they come out?

Duncan makes people who aren’t supposed to be there forget what they’ve seen. The Unnamed was always meant for Desmond.

hope some day you have the time and interest to write another draft of your Flocking Movement saga because readers would love to see how it changes when Kaley Miles lives and does not sink into depression. Maybe she and Altair would still hook up? Or maybe not, because there is Jake. Or would you keep just as Jacob?

If Kay lived she and Altair absolutely would not hook up again because she’s mad at him for leaving her and her children in an abusive situation she felt powerless to get herself out of. Really she’d become bffs with Cain (who I’d change the name of and also make a girl cause WOW FM is a fucking sausage fest) to fuck with Altair a lot. Jake wouldn’t happen, Jacob would just trip into immortality alone thanks to Altair’s fuck up and Altair would end up hooking up with Jacob probably. Cause as much as I love Jake… idk. He doesn’t need to be there. Honestly Jake is Jake so people wouldn’t throw a fucking hissy fit I was shipping Altair with an OC.

Are the Altair, Ezio, Cain, the Angels, and Baldurs people guarding the Unnamed now from Proeathan incursions?

Mmmm. Kinda. When Desmond made it into the Unnamed there isn’t much the Adjatevs can do now. They’re more just making sure they don’t get away.

6 years creating your masterpiece

I would absolutely not call it a masterpiece. Have you actually read FM lately? It’s SO BAD.

Why did you decide upon [the bird theme]?

Because it’s literally part of the AC lore??? Like every single game from the 1st one features bird themes. Altair and Ezio are LITERALLY bird names.

So is Des building bridges here or burning bridges here?

It’s literally the chapter title dude. He’s on a bridge.

The wall that just went up cuts them off from returning to the real world, does it not?

No???? But they want to go in and to go in you have to actually like… GO IN

Is the Unnamed trying to traumatize Des? Making him feel like he's back in the Black Room of the Animus seems needlessly cruel.

The Unnamed isn’t doing that. That’s just the Unnamed looked like. The Animus is bullshit fake news tech made to break human brains but it uses tech similarly to vessels which also uses tech similarly to the Unnamed. The Unnamed is a psychic presence and the Animus and vessels all (tho Vidic didn’t understand it) tap into the psionic prowess of the person and the Unnamed is such a HUGE psionic marker that has trickled down through all these machines that it is part of its very essense. The Unnamed isn’t replicating the Black Room, the Black Room was replicating the Unnamed.

Des needs to remember that Lucy has her own traumas. She 'remembers' dying as Lucy Prime. She was trapped in Proeathan custody for several years. She still grieves for what happened to Clay. She was tossed aside by the Assassins as expendable. She was forced to compromise herself in order to survive. By bringing Lucy into the Unnamed, Des could cause her unnecessary vicarious trauma

*Continues to make fart noises with hand and mouth*

What was your original plan for this chapter?

Just the memory they watched. I didn’t find that particularly thrilling to write so I just had them watch an abridged form and instead I could set the atmosphere of the Unnamed better.

I like how it's not always the guys protecting the damsel in distress in your FM saga. More like the guy in distress being protected by his butt-kicking lady!

I’m pretty sure Desmond has only saved Lucy once. And that was when he gave himself up to Cain to protect her in Mexico. Lucy’s always saving his ass.

Also, if I counted right, this is review 1300

Y’all are crazy. Thank you.

have you ever considered a Legacy chapter from Lucy's time with the Proeathans?

Not really something I’m interested in writing. Sometimes things are better when you just don’t know

Not that I'm begging, please don't think that! It's just you've said in the past it was all right to suggest ideas for Legacy and Tincture.

I… didn’t think that at all. And this sort of wording you guys do sometimes makes me really uncomfortable like I’m incapable of understanding intent in written words and comes across as kinda disingenuine.

Too bad John and Desmond never had the chance to use their pyromancer powers together, as in one giant fireball they lobbed together at their enemies.

Not really how pyromancy works… Cause then taking out the Storks is them using their abilities together.

You saga absorbs me more than most so-called must read literature. As far as I'm concerned, your saga is a Must-Reat story.

Probably cause like most well written fanfic it isn’t sanatized for the Standard of published media which all kinda sounds… the same.

Did Des lose his black smart matter bracelet/knife/god-killing weapon?

Well Lucy was holding it when she shoved him into the Unnamed…

Did Saturn ever have custody of [smart matter]?

Yeaaaaaap. While not stated explicitly the sword she uses in Rain Goddess is smart material

And now that I think about it, how did Des come to have it?

I never say. He woke up with it on his wrist in the Pacific contrust. As to where it came from I think that a bit of mystery is important to a story.

Ch 96

So I realize I was pretty vague in saying to ask questions but some of you guys like… did not read at all what I had written for the type of questions, nor did you really use any reasoning for what sort of questions likely to be answered in this chapter. I know you’re all very smart but guys… guys… pls

Why did Duncan have to die?

Because then Desmond wouldn’t have been wanting.

Must have just about killed you to write this 5 years ago and have to sit on it for so long.

You have no FUCKING IDEA.

So what was Juno's purpose in using Des to kill Lucy Prime?

That question was answered by one of the AI a long time ago. She did so to manipulate Desmond but realized she fucked up only after when the proeathans had him. Also Duncan would have no fucking idea.

Is Xazz happy she ever started writing this monster work that is the beloved Flocking Movement?

Honestly I just can’t wait to not have to write this story ever again. It’s been a serious love hate relationship with this stupid story.

So I guess that's my question to this semi-omniknowing entity. Please explain this chapter in simple terms dolts like me can understand!

I mean it’s supposed to be hard to understand. It’s like a dream sequence and a training montague. Duncan can’t explain it like that because Desmond understands.

And who fathered her twins, Cain and Abel, if not Adam?

Eve’s sons aren’t named Cain and Abel for starters. And that’s a question I’m never ever going to answer. Stories need to have some mysteries.

For those few who survived and made it back to the real world, did they relive all the memories of their lives and acestors?

Not really. Only psychics strong enough can see anything besides the white room can even see memories and those people aren’t common. Most of them just stayed there a long time waiting for something to happen or they became too weak and were going to die so they left.

Maybe the Unnamed could show him the Miles family, and specifically Kaley Miles, so that Desmond could get to know his real mother, even if only peripherally? Not quite what you meant by questions, but this is probably Desmond's only chance to get to know the real Kaley Miles unless he goes into an Animus with the intention of reliving his mother's memories before his own conception. And I doubt he'll ever willingly climb into an Animus again. Ever. No matter how long he lives or doesn't live.

Y’all are a lot like Andrew; you just won’t let Kaley be dead. Desmond has gone out of his way to literally say just let her be dead and rest in peace.

The Unnamed sounds a bit cruel, making Des relive all of his worst memories. I'm surprised it didn't make him relive killing Lucy, or make Lucy relive Lucy Prime's memories of dying, cause you mentioned once that Angel Lucy remembered the original's death.

It did. But it also didn’t just pull out the worst memories. It pulled out all memories. A lot of the things they experianced in the Unnamed were things Desmond experianced on his travels before he ended up in NYC. And then Desmond built worlds around them based on his memory.

Really, I'd love to know more about this shadowy figure orchestrating mass genocide behind the scenes, the bad guy that has never been seen in Flocking Movement. Also, what is the history behind Tiamat and her connection to Chronos that makes her want him dead?

Chronos will be appearing in another chapter. And I thought locking her in a box away from all other humanity for years was a pretty good reason to want Chronos dead.

May I suggest that the semi omniknowing entity be named Xazz? Seeing as you are the all-knowing entity behind Flocking Movement, it'd be radical if you inserted yourself into your own universe. Honestly, after six years writing your saga, you deserve your own character!

Self inserts of myself actually make me incredibly uncomfortable. As it is I share a name with one of the main characters and that really makes me uncomfortable. So. Never gonna happen.

Can [the Unnamed] show the future, or possible futures?

The Unnamed can show the true past, present, and future. It is literally made by even more advanced pyschics than humans or proeathans who could percieve time differently than either of them and can see the future unaided while proeathans can’t at all and humans need someone else to do so accuratly.

if the whole of Atlantis will transform around everyone standing and fighting there now

I actually didn’t think of that til now and the image is very lovely.

I’ve asked you a million questions and speculated til we’re both blue in the face, so coming up with more may just be redundant

Yeah but you keep trying, Heron lols

Addionally, I would love to know more about past Stadalla. Saturn. Jupiter. HERA and JUNO!

I actually have a series planned that’s just… the Stadalla during their times.

Specifically the part where the twins, Hera and Juno, were the first stadalla to advocate for human freedom. STADALLA?!

I might have mistyped a tiny bit. The actual stadalla who did it weren’t Hera and Juno but Venus and Mercury. Hera and Juno were very important stadalla, especially Hera, but Venus and Mercury existed at the same time and they were the ones who really fought against proeathans keeping human slaves. Sorry I just got too excited about sharing lols

Why then would Juno want to kill Lucy and weaken Desmond, the next Stadalla, if she supported humans being free?

Okay and also. These AI are not the stadalla. The AI are just people who were sacrified by the Adjatevs. The AI known as Mercury isn’t even an Adjatev, he’s a Lesh’v’rin. They were all alive during the fall of the proeathan civilization and none of the actual stadalla were. Not to mention the AI known as Juno isn’t even the right gender or species.

Chapter 97

I assumed the builders of the Unnamed would be a long dead race, native to Earth, perhaps more advanced, but not extraterrestrial in origin.

I really wasn’t sure how fucking far I could keep pushing shit. Cause humans have found a pretty good historical record of stuff and it’s obvious the proeathans didn’t just disappear. They show up as other and in our cultures as things. But I didn’t know how I could like… not make it aliens and it fit??? Cause if it was an older civilizations the proeathans would have known about it! Early humans would have known about it. Aliens was really the only way I could get a good ‘we have literally zero idea or understanding of this giant monolith’ without it being like ‘well actually we found xyz in the fossil record’.

Also aliens

I assume those species had something more sophisticated than cryogenesis, as they would need to freeze themselves in order to survive the distances that would need to be travelled to reach other galaxies. In fact, those species would probably still be sleeping as their ships continued on their way as all of the drama surrounding Earth’s naïve children played out.

Or faster than light travel. Or something like the Mass Effect Relays which don’t even give a flying fuck about your FTL shit. If you could make something like the Unnamed and the Earth’s facilities you ain’t taking long space flights.

Duncan says the Others seeded Earth, too, to help life evolve. But why? They were using Earth as a way station for weary travellers. Why help life evolve on Earth and have to give up their way station in a solar system that could provide all of the fuel they needed to continue on their way and support life on top of that? Then why leave that same life the Other’s helped create to flounder and find their own way to survival?

So Drivers just do… that. They’re a benevolant race of psychics. Which is why Earth has psychics. And they didn’t do anything really. They just saw that Earth could sustain life and were like ‘oh this is neat’ and kinda helped it along and then when the proeathans started devloping culture they peaced out cause it wasn’t an empty world anymore. Things lived there now.

What has become of these Others? Are they still around, watching from afar?

I will tell you they aren’t watching. No one even knows Earth is there. As to what they’re doing; fuck if I know.

Perhaps not making contact is actually better for Proeathans and humans? Look what happened when Humans and Proeathans made contact.

Yeah no the galaxy is gonna be a hot mess when Earthlings figure out FTL. Space orcs and such.

Were Eve’s twin sons, Cain and Abel also Stadallas?

Ya’akov and Le’a you mean. And technically yes. But also no. They’re stadalla in the same way that Tiamat is a stadalla. Stadalla in ability if not by godhood.

Did Eve, who herself was not a Stadalla, but instead a powerful Angel, give birth to twin Stadallas?

Yes

Were Cain and Abel trying to fulfill their mother’s legacy, or just to understand it better?

The first bit

Yet Desmond is the Seventeenth Stadalla, clearly the most important Stadalla ever born.

MMMMM!!! Debateable lols. Desmond is the most important in recent memory but people would argue Saturn was way more important than Desmond. Or Pluto. Or Demeter. Demeter is an insanely important stadalla.

Is that ability unique to Desmond? That he can fashion reality to suit himself and the world?

No everyone could do it in the Unnamed. But not everyone got to sit in the big boy chair lols.

Just imagine how Cronos would fashion the world to suit himself.

Well I mean… reality of the Unnamed only exists in the Unnamed. You can’t just go into the Unnamed and bring it out of the Unnamed without Duncan’s permission. Like Desmond and Lucy’s clothes will leave with them because Duncan is like ‘yeah sure, you can do that’ but Chronos couldn’t go in there, make a super weapon, and bring it back out of it. Duncan wouldn’t allow it. Also you can’t just… brute force the Unnamed unless you’re a Driver. Like Ya’akov and Le’a brute forced the Unnamed because they were Drivers even tho Duncan KINDA HATED BOTH OF THEM but there were two of them and they were ridiculously powerful and he was kinda powerless to stop them. If you aren’t a Driver you just see… nothing. There is no Unnamed for someone who isn’t a Driver and you can only force the Unnamed to become yours if you are one like Ya’akov and Le’a. Which is what they did. Duncan didn’t want them to have access to that chair but they did it anyway.

This must have frustrated Cain and Abel to no end that they couldn't fix the damage their mother had caused, to bring back the world the way it used to be, except with a place for free humans and Angels.

Kinda??? They were more pissed at Duncan cause he kept kicking them back into their own bodies because he was so hateful to them. Which to be fair, they were LITERALLY trying to destroy the entire world and REALLY fuck shit up even worse than it already was and Duncan can’t allow that.

Like where anger and jealously lead one twin to killing the other, as history seems to record...?

Uh… no. Ya’akov and Le’a loved each other. Like to the point it made other people uncomfortable how much they loved each other. And the Cain and Abel mythos is about…. Cains and abels, the type of psychic ability humans have. Has literally nothing to do with Eve’s sons.

Your Flocking Movement wiki must be enormous, bb, to cover all of these characters and their backstories.

Not really??? Cause I just don’t care about those kinda things that much. If you actually want me to write those kinda entries I will but that isn’t really what the wiki is about.

How then did Tiamat interact with the Duncan? He just old Desmond that he modified his program to keep Lucy young and alive and not affected by the passage of time within the Unnamed. Wouldn’t he have had to do the same for Tiamat, since she told Desmond he’d have scads of time in the Unnamed to figure life out?

Yes Heron that is literally what happened you literally answered your own question.

Since Lucy is synthesized, does that mean she contains no Other DNA either?

Yes Heron that is gone kinda in depth with in Clay’s chapter in Triad. Like I explicitly say that Lucy is 100% pure sythasized human DNA.

How sad and frustrating for Lucy that she has been unable to get pregnant?

Less sad and more she’s just frustrated and mad about it cause god damnit Desmond be useful lols

How much worse that she likely won’t be there to see much of her baby’s life…  It is not selfishness motivating Lucy here, not a desperate attempt to leave something of herself in the world. Its hope that’s motivating Lucy. A hope that she’ll leave a real legacy, and the knowledge that Desmond and his ancestors will still be there to love and raise the child in her absence.

I honestly can’t believe you actually thought I’d actually let Lucy fucking die a second time. Like the fuck??? You think I’d go through all this trouble to deus ex machina her back to life and get her and Desmond back together again during the fucking apocolypse for her to ACTUALLY DIE in 3 years? Please.

A child born of her love with Desmond and gift to leave him when she is gone. A reason for Desmond to go on living, which I believe Lucy realizes he’ll need if he loses yet another person he loves.

No but real talk other than cause she wants to that is the primary reason Lucy’s decided she wants a baby. She wants Desmond to have fucking something when she eventually dies cause SHE KNOWS her man and she knows he’s a hot fucking mess and probably would just kill himself eventually because he couldn’t deal with it. Not that she does die tho cause fuck that noise.

Speaking of children failing to live up to their mother's legacies, Lucy's baby would surely have a tall order to live up to regarding the Lady of the Lake being its mother. Yikes. And Desmond as the father if people view him as a demon of sorts? ... Maybe better for Lucy to keep the identity of the father a secret for the child's sake.

Nah. Baby doesn’t have to live up to anything. Desmond and Lucy don’t let them feel like that. As it is they already do live up to it by existing which is a fucking miracle after the shit their entire species and planet have been through.

Fingers crossed for a girl, just like her mama and her nana Kaley.

I mean… they do have a girl. It isn’t the first one tho. I am gonna rip your heart out on the first one lols

I only pay attention when I see reviews climbing, then I know you have a new one up!

That is literally the worst way to see if I have a new chapter cause seemingly ALL y’all do that until someone notices.

When he said he was making animals, I just about fell over! If he's willing life into existence, are these existing animals, or is he creating new creatures?

I mean they… aren’t real?? Like Duncan said they are their reality but Desmond also isn’t spontaniously making life out of nothing. Like objects (clothes) are fine because that’s just matter but actual living things Duncan doesn’t allow out of the Unnamed.

The Unnamed likely had a name once in the alien tongue, long lost to the mists of time by this point.

It absolutely did.

The Others were the gods that the Proeathans fashioned their own mythos after, just like humans adopted Proeathans into their mythos.

No. Absolutly not. The stadalla were real live people who became gods and thus they were worshiped. But the Drivers were never worshiped as gods by the proeathans.

Cha 98

Now Micheal having a nervous breakdown in the middle of the battle and Altair is trying to hold him together, literally and figuratively.

I mean… he isn’t. He just suddenly can feel emotion again and he’s feeling so many emotions all at once that all he can do is cry.

If [proeathans] destroyed [The Unnamed] while Lucy is still inside, there would be no stopping Desmond’s vengeance.

Literally impossible

Have any other lifeforms messed up the Unnamed as badly as humanity and the Proeathans have done? Have any other species managed to bring themselves to near extinction by misunderstanding and misusing the Unnamed on other worlds as badly as the people of Earth have done?

I mean… they aren’t misusing it. It becomes what they need it to become and serves a new purpose when it falls into the hands of the new race. It becomes theirs. But yeah, probably.

What are the limitations of Desmond’s power? He can’t bring back the dead, but can he prevent death if he chooses? Can he prevent his and Lucy’s deaths, or will time take them away anyway?

‘God-like’. Also everyone just like… forgets all the time that Altair has made THREE people immortal thanks to the Apple. Like it isn’t that fucking hard.

Can he create life beyond procreating with Lucy?

Don’t say it like that Heron it sounds gross. But no.

Or is he the sacrificial lamb, risen with his lion-like divine powers to bring peace and justice to the world? A lamb who will tolerate no more fighting

I don’t know how much actually clearer I can tell you what a stadalla is at this point. Either you get it; or you don’t

Okay, now I’m insatiably curious about the first Stadalla. You once wrote that the Proeathans learned how to use the Unnamed to control human and Angelic minds when they found their way to Atlantis and enslave them and mutilate them and wipe out whole races and suppress natural abilities. I assume this was because the first Stadalla, who I surmise was a Proeathan, taught his people how to use the Unnamed to control the other sentient,

Pluto was too busy fucking up his own species to even know humans existed. Humans didn’t enter the picture until… Hera I wanna say. That’s 6? 7?

Finding that Apple in Boston altered Micheal’s life

Philly

Hey, did Cain ever meet Qin Shi Huang, emperor of China who desperately searched for a way to become immortal

Idk man. Maybe

Is Hawk gone for good then after Des woke up Micheal's soul in One of the Terrible Things? Poor Hawk.

Yeah. Hawk’s gone. Don’t pity him. He doesn’t pity himself. He’s happy. He’s happy he’s Micheal again.

Do the Proeathand feel like Hawk much of the time? They aren't ruled by their emotions, to the point Des had to share empathy with them so they could understand human emotions and validate that way of being.

No. Hawk doesn’t feel anything. He doesn’t feel fear or sadness or joy or anything else. Proeathans just don’t possess empathy. They are a sympathetic race but they still feel fear, sadness, joy, loss.

Will he remember Hawk's memories of the past 200 years and everything Hawk did? Is Hawk glad to be going now and returning control over to Micheal?

Yes and yes

I know you said Hawk is an infestation, but is he still part of Micheal's soul, or just memories now?

Neither really? Both? Hawk was Micheal without emotions. But he was still Micheal.

Ch 99

does he realize how much he has become like his father?

Except he fucking isn’t. Desmond isn’t like Andrew. On the surface he is but people are not skin deep. Motivations behind Andrew and Desmond’s choices are DRASTICALLY different. It’s like the Batman argument ‘if you kill a killer the number of killers remains the same’ with the counter being ‘well if you kill 1+x killers the number of killers go down by x’. Yeah they both did the same thing of letting someone die for the ‘greater good’ but their motivations and how they went about it are so UTTERLY different it’s kinda insulting to even compare the two tbh

Altair ibn La’Had al Umar

Heron I’m disappointed. La’Ahad

I don’t know if Duncan’s presence provided more comfort or pain to Andrew

Why not both?

His three daddies (four if one counts Cain)

Cain absolutely doesn’t get dad status okay.

What will happen to the surviving Assassins and Templars in the new world order Des is building? I assume Des isn't going to kill them all?

Both of their orders are dead. There’s nothing left for them to fight. The war’s over. They will help rebuild just like everyone else.

How do soldiers adjust to a period of peace?

There also aren’t a lot left on either side. A few dozen Assassins and actual Templars who understood the war and not just thugs.

Andrew couldn't quite believe Desmond would let him die, but surely he realizes he's merely reaping what he sowed? He raised Desmond to be this practical and this ruthless. The world has not been a gentle place to Desmond Miles.

Winner winner chicken dinner

doesn't kaley share some responsibility for this situation as she was the mother? yes, she was depressed too, but she doesn't appear to have sought much help either and didn't ask anyone else to take care of the boys

Don’t fucking victum blame dude it’s fucking gross. She was their mother but when you’re living in a cult where other people control your entire life it’s hard to just get over shit like what Kaley had. She was as much a victim as her children and casting blame on her is kinda shitty.

Ch 100

Des is like the strongest psychic on the planet now, right? Why didn't he go into Andrew's mind as he lay dying?

Why would he do that??? Like what’s the point of that????

Is he like a spirit or ghost when he detaches from his body like this? Like dead?

Astral projection since you couldn’t understand Duncan’s explanation

Xazz, you have a wicked sense of humor!

I just like ruining Altair’s life/day tbh. It’s my fave thing to dooooo~

What about Lucy? Des is pressuring his ancestors to have some kind of relationship with Tommy, but what about Lucy?

I don’t know if you noticed but Lucy isn’t in this chapter.

Who was Sath’ka?

Idk. I just made it up lols

Rather egocentric that Tiamat assumed the AI would appear as a Proeathan to Desmond, a species that have seriously traumatized all humans on Earth, but then that is the Proeathan way.

In her time, in the ability proeathans had, AI were all gendered and could not change forms. It isn’t egocentric. She’s just going off what she knows about AI which to her makes total sense that the waystation AI would be female and proeathan no matter who interacted with them, just like all other AI she’s ever interacted with and seen.

Ch 101 (the actual chapter 100)

Will Des eventually build up new countries as the population expands over the centuries?

No. Humans and proeathans can do that themselves. He made Atlantis and that’s his home now. Humans can and will rebuild their world on their own.

Are the AI the current ones that Des knows, or AI who've basically been in storage awaiting a purpose?

I mean Desmond doesn’t know about if there even if other AI out there other than the Adjatev ones. So…

Are the AI happy with how this war turned out?

Desmond’s were. The others aren’t lols

What about Morpheus? He said long ago that he helped Des because Venus promised he'd see something amazing if he joined the Flock's side in this war.

Sorry is a god being born in front of you not amazing enough for you?

How did Hera get revenge on Juno, which she told Des was one of her main reasons for fighting?

Hera’s revenge was just helping Desmond who Juno was against, and making Lucy perfect

What role will Tommy have in this new world?

Probably… none. Tommy gets to be a normal guy who gets to kiss cute boys and hang out with his brother and nieces and nephews and be normal; just what Desmond always wanted and wanted for Tommy.

Do the Adjatevs accept responsibility for the war, the genocide of humanity and several races of Proeathans?

Fuck no

Cain, as the last surviving Drell on Earth, surely had something to say about that on behalf of his father, Pipek?

Hey. Hey. Remember that big thing Cain told Desmond about how he buried his people and put them to rest and wasn’t angry about it anymore? WOW it’s almost like that’s a thinggggg

Is even Lilith gone, Xazz?

All the vessels are broken, all the angels within freed, even Lilith

Didn't she say she'd be training Des for years to come in his Angelic abilities?

Just because a character says something doesn’t mean it’ll happen. Desmond is so infititly more powerful than Lilith now to think she’d have anything left to teach him is fucking laughable

What does Tommy think about the big brother he didn't remember?

But he does remember? Like that’s the entire point of what Desmond did. He does remember.

How many birthday wishes have you received today, Xazz?

Idk across the 5 different stories people were wishing them to me I kinda lost count XD Needless to say; it was a LOT

How relieved his daddies must be they're not going to lose Desmond?

They all knew Desmond would eventually die. They were relieved he wasn’t going to die so soon and would get to grow old but now he’s immortal and they’re like ‘oh… sweet!’

If I read your comments correctly, you wanted to complete your story on November 29, which I think you said is your birthday. But according the ff site, your story was completed on November 28? I don't know if that's a glitch or I just missed chapter 101 yesterday?

It’s a glitch. When you get a lot of reviews like I was getting ff.net kinda REALLY FUCKING HATES IT and causes things to display incorrectly. It’s why reviews took a while to show up that week and why it said the 28th. But I assure you, I 100% uploaded chap 101 on the 29th.

Couldn't Lucy and Desmond just take a break from each other if they get bored of one another?

I don’t… know why this is a question? Like. Yeah???

Tiamat probably can't either as she is probably pure Proeathan, being synthetic herself.

Tiamat absolutely is not pure proeathan. She’s like Mercury, a synth made to be a perfect being. Meaning Otherness.

Will Desmond bring Duncan's body to Atlantis to rest near him?

Remember Desmond’s insistance to just let Kaley be dead? Yeah. Same thing. Let the dead fucking rest.

Were there any other Proeathans still sleeping, waiting for the day they get to awaken? Won't they be surprised when they wake up to a world where humans and Proeathans are living together and Angels have returned and the Stadalla is in charge?

Now that would be telling wouldn’t it? ;)

And thanks to everyone who sent me birthday wishes across all of my FM stories. They really brightened my day, especially cause it wasn’t the best day when I had a bit of a row with a friend over dumb shit.

Also someone… somewhere in the giant mess of reviews I got asked about why Desmond is the 17th stadalla and why that number and what’s the significance of 17. And the answer is… well it’s literally canon lols. Desmond is Subject 17 of the Animus Project conducted by the Templars. And then Juno says some cryptic ass shit about 7 in the end of Brotherhood and I just kinda ran with it. So yeah, that’s why Desmond is the 17th stadalla.

[top-hat-assassin]

Bad News (Jacob Frye X Reader)

Hi lovelies,

I’ve got another one for you here. Took me a few weeks to complete this. And I’m sorry in advance for the not so good ending and for another Pub going. Please do not think I see Jacob as an alcoholic, this just happened to be another Fanfiction with such an ending. I still have a few fictions left in my ac:syndicate folder. But you can also give me some ideas, if you feel like it. I wouldn’t mind. All it could take is time due to work and other things coming inbetween.

And yes, I also have NSFW works scattering around, but I’m still not confident enough to get them out when I still have trouble with Fictions like this one. lol

Anyway, thank you so much for following and liking my stories. It may not look enough to others, but for me it means a lot. Enjoy this piece (I really like the first half of this, but the second half is ugh, I dunno, just not right in my eyes). And yes, I know I repeat myself with every story I upload. I just want my Followers to know, that each and everyone is appreciated.

I just received 250 Followers, this is so awesome. You are awesome!

Title: Bad News Summary: Jacob receives bad news about his sister. Characters: Reader, Jacob Frye Relationships: Jacob Frye x Reader Warnings: None Words: 1.678

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; } // ]]>

With crossed arms you had leaned against the door frame of the train carriage, which was mostly occupied by the youngest of the Frye twins. You were waiting for this particular person to come back from Evie’s carriage. You knew why Evie wanted to speak with her brother. As you waited you took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Strange enough, you feel like a nervous wreck as if you were the one receiving the new informations. Your head thudded against the door frame as you closed your eyes. You were listening to the sounds of the train moving and it’s wheels driving on the rails. It became a soothing sound for you over the time you spend here.

Ten minutes later you opened your eyes when you heard a door opening. Your head turned into the direction and you saw the man you were waiting for entering. He seemed a little bit on edge and you could have sworn you heard a little sob coming from him. The thought made your heart grow heavy. You had known about the plans regarding India; it won’t be easy for him as he had Evie beside him his whole life until now. In a few weeks this will all change. The twins would be seperated for the first time - probably for a very long time, too. A little voice in the back of your head told you, that you’re still here. There is one question remaining for you though: will it be enough? That thought made it’s way into the front of your mind, your pulse quickening for a moment of the fear that surged through your body. You scolded yourself for such a reaction.

You shifted your attention back to the twin. Almost furiously he dragged his hand through his hair, letting it look more unkempt. He looked frantically through the carriage, but seemingly blind to your presence, as if he wants to take off to escape his pain. While you watched him, you could almost feel his pain. You can only hope that he doesn’t act upon a reckless thought to forget what he had been told.

You let your arms hang down at your sides and pushed yourself off the door frame. You quietly made your way over to the male twin, hoping you can kind of help him ease his pain. The man had now sat down on the Lounge; his elbows on his knees, face hidden in his hands.

Although he does not like to openly admit it, it was certain he needed his sister. You’ve heard about a special connection between twin siblings and you’re sure that this connection also lies within the Frye twins.

You stopped right in front of him and without saying a word to him, you raised your arms and let your hands ran through his soft hair, trying to console him. You hoped, somehow, this would help him. You did not even know how it feels if a twin was seperated from the other. You had a close family member, sure, but it wasn’t the same.

Since he did not react to your actions, you stopped. “I’m sorry.” you whispered. It was unusually quiet around you. The train stood still at this point and it felt unpleasant to you, like you needed some noise to keep your racing mind calm. Your heartrate was pounding in your ears. Did you overstep a boundary? Didn’t he want anyone around him right now? “Don’t be.” you heard his soft answer and then he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him and putting his head on your stomach. A relieved sigh almost left you after he responded to you. A soft hum was coming from you before you raised your arms again and went through his hair a second time. You learned in time that he relaxes when your fingers kneaded through it. This time he also gave a short, agreeing “Hm”.

“I know she is your twin sister and there is no way someone can replace her for the time she is not here… but you’re not alone, Jacob. When you need to talk, you can talk to me. If you need someone for a pint, I’m coming with you. Whatever you need, just say it.” You wanted him to know that he does not have to cope alone. He needed to know, you emphasized in your head.

He pressed his face even more into your stomach, nuzzling a little bit into the clothes fabric. “Thank you.” he murmured. “Just… Just stay with me a few minutes like this.” his voice was a little muffled due to speaking right into your clothes. “Anything for you.” And you meant the words. It is rare to see him in this kind of emotional breakdown. Most of the time he wants to be seen as a strong individual and he often covers his true emotions up. To his misfortune, you were one of the very few people who weren’t going to be fooled by him.

Thankfully, the silence was no longer as oppressive as it was before. You left his hair, wandered into the collar of his shirt, so you’ll be able to caress his neck with your fingers. Until you took your fingernails into action and started to scratch the nape of the neck gently.

The minutes passed and you almost thought he was asleep. But then he pushed his face off you again; keeping his arms at their place around you. Jacob looked up into your face, while you returned his gaze. When you smiled, his lips also curled into a little smile. You could see that he indeed shed a few tears. Your hands moved back to his face, cupped it and with your thumbs you brushed a few tears away that threaten to run down his cheeks. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, enjoying your touch.

“So… about that Pint.”

As you snorted, he opened his eyes again and his smile turned into a cheeky grin with a mischievious glance in his hazel eyes. You tousled through his hair to make it look more disheveled again after you straightened it out before. “Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Frye.” He let go of you to stand up when you took a small step back. Your eyes met and it was there you can read it in his gaze; how devastated he feels about his sister’s plans and at the same time thankful you’re still here with him. “Thank you.” You shook your head at this. “There is no need for that. I’m glad I can help in some ways.” “You help more than you think.”, there was a gentle smile, which was directed at you. This was a smile you never saw before and as it was only for you, your stomach made a fluttering feeling. You felt the flush of heat going straight to your face. Before you would totally embarass yourself in front of him, you grasped his left hand und started to drag him to the door. “Pints are on me.” you said over your shoulder. “Aren’t I a lucky chap?”

Both of you jumped from the train and somehow you managned to trip over your own feet at the landing. Thankfully, Jacob registered this instantly and caught you, steadying you. “Careful there, (Y/N).” You gave him a short laugh. Well, your thought back in the train about not embarassing yourself in front of him was with this incident for nothing. “You’re not going to hurt yourself while we are looking for a Pub, right?” “No.” you said. “I can’t promise, but-” “(Y/N).”, he growled, slightly annoyed. He was always like this when it came to your health. You rolled your eyes while ee narrowed his own at you. “Jacob, please. I’m fine and I’m sure we will arrive at the Pub without injuries.” you took his left hand again with both your hands whilst you faced the way with your back. You pulled him along to the edge of the bridge you found yourself on. “I’m going to drink you under the table, love.” Your eyebrows shot straight up at the sudden change of subject. He wasn’t ready to talk about what is happening soon and you were patient enough to wait until he finally spills his true feelings about the departure of his sister. A feeling told you he might speak more when his sister has left London. Or when she is gone for a few weeks and it starts to dawn on him, she is in fact not in person with him.

When you thought back to his suggestion you shot him a glare. Like the man himself, you like challenges, there was no way you will let him win this round. You will make it the responsible way though. Which meant no more pints than two, so you had to keep an eye on the man and his mugs. He tends to get himself more pints whenever he is feeling upset about something. This time you’re going to prevent him from doing so. “Don’t be so full of yourself. The last time, if I may recall, I found you slumbed over the table.” “I was tired after we fought for another borough.” was that a pout on his lips? “Keep telling yourself that, my dear Jacob.” your tone was teasing. Oh, that was definitely a pout.

Jacob shook his head, gave you a grin while making himself ready to use his Rope Launcher. “Let’s, love.” You were about to make yourself ready when his arm was back around your waist, pulling you into his embrace this time. “J-Jacob! I’ve got my o-own Rope Launcher!” you stuttered as his action took you by surprise and the close proximity to his body made your head feel dizzy. “I know. It’s faster and I don’t have to wait for you. Now, hold on.” You decided you’re going to slap him after you land on the roof of the pub for his statement.

[vintage1der]

I started reading this book today and I can’t help myself, I have to share it with you, because anything that has me almost choking on my coffee with laughter deserves some attention.

The book is “Tell Me It’s Real” by T.J.Klune and here are some excerpts (this is only the first chapter!)

Chapter 1

Way Too Much Information About My Anatomy

JUST so you know, I don’t have a gargantuan penis.

Shocking, I know, right? Most of the time when you hear stories like the one you’re about to, the narrator is this perfect specimen of man, whether he knows it or not. If he doesn’t know it, it’s because he’s most likely damaged and needs some hot piece of ass to bring him out of his shell and to help him realize his outer beauty dwarfs his inner beauty. Or he knows he’s attractive and uses it as a weapon until the object of his lust-fueled heart breaks down that narcissistic wall with spooge and flowery words. Then they frolic off into the sunset and go live in Everything’s Perfect Land where everyone has a ten-inch cock and big balls that can create semen by the bucketful every hour, on the hour.

But if we’re going to be honest, I’m not small either. I was fourteen when I first noticed other boys in the locker rooms at school (and when I say “first noticed,” I actually mean when I first allowed myself to look to see if they would give me a stiffie—which they did), and I realized penises were like snowflakes—no two were exactly the same. Some were big, some were small. Some had hair around them and others were smooth. Jacob Sides had one that curved wickedly to the left, and every time I saw him in the hall, I couldn’t help but think, There goes Captain Hook, and would blush furiously, sure he would know that I was thinking about his frank and beans.

So the point is, I don’t have a Coke can for a dong, but I don’t have a Mike and Ike either. I’m somewhere in the middle. Average, if you will. Regular. Normal. Ordinary.

But then that describes the rest of me too.

I guess you should know what you’re getting into before we go any further. If you leave before the story is finished, I wouldn’t blame you. Too much. Okay, okay, I’ll probably call you a bitch behind your back. But hey, it’s behind your back, so you won’t even know about it. So feel free to walk away. Bitch.

Anyway, here’s the rest of me. Sorry for the info dump I’m about to take all over you.

I don’t have huge pecs, nor do I have stone-hard abs that you could attempt to grate cheese on. Those two things are so stereotypical amongst gay men that it’s almost offensive. I watched a porno once where this little twinkie dude went to some haunted house in the middle of nowhere (which really looked like a set from an all-white elementary school production of The Wiz—if you get the reference, you’ll know it’s not racist). The little twinkie had little pecs and abs and a huge penis that could have posed as a third arm if he tried hard enough. Anyway, the little twinkie dude then got gang-banged by fourteen ghosts (guys that started out wearing sheets with holes cut out for eyes and ended up wearing nothing but spunk), and I swear to God, every single one of them had pecs and abs that went on and on. For days. So after I finished watching said porno (which, by the way, wasn’t scary at all, especially since it was supposed to be about ghosts. Where was the story?), I decided that I could easily get pecs and abs, so I went to a gym not far from my house, intending to sign up with a personal trainer who would let my outer beauty shine through.

On the way there, I got distracted by the fact that a Dunkin’ Donuts had opened up right down the road from my house and they were giving away free donuts. It was as if God himself saw that my intention was to make my outer self match my inner fabulosity and didn’t think the world could handle such an explosion of amazingness. So instead of letting me get to the gym where I would have transformed myself into a walking sex god, he created a Dunkin’ Donuts out of nothing and then gave them away for free. I didn’t make it to the gym. I had a bear claw instead. And a maple bar. And some donut holes. And then some more donut holes.

So, I don’t have pecs or abs. Not even close. As a matter of fact, I probably have a bit more around the middle than I should. I’m not fat or anything. I’m more… husky. My doctor told me I could stand to lose ten pounds (okay, okay, he said fifteen) and that it would make me a healthier person. I thought he was a cute older thing, maybe forty, forty-five, and I flirted with him until I realized he was calling me morbidly obese.

“That’s not what I said,” Dr. Suddenly Getting Less Attractive said with a knowing smirk. “I said you could lose fifteen pounds and then you’d break all the boys’ hearts.”

I glared at him. “How do you know I don’t break their hearts now?” Kind of like how I want to break your stupid face.

“Do you?” he asked.

“All the time,” I lied. “I’m really a way hot bear. Bears need to have a little extra junk in the trunk and a bump in the front in order to maintain the bear lifestyle.”

Dr. I Don’t Know When To Shut My Mouth almost rolled his eyes. “You? Abear? You have, like, three chest hairs,” he said, reaching out to pull on one. It came off my bare chest almost immediately. “And this one’s a cat hair!” Which was weird because I don’t have a cat.

“It’s a new thing,” I said, insulted. “No-hair bears. We have monthly meetings and talk about how smooth our skin is and how our leathers start to chafe because of it. We’re thinking about switching to denim chaps and vests. Sort of an old-school look. I suggested we also get denim gloves, but it was agreed upon that was too much denim.”

“Paul.” Dr. Not As Gullible As He Looks rolled his eyes and said, “My partner is very active in the bear community. There’s no such thing as no-hair bears. Trust me. I would know.”

“You’re a homosexual?” I screeched at him, trying to put my shirt back on as quickly as I could. “I demand a straight doctor so he won’t judge me!”

[winteriscoming-soldat]

I Need You - Newt Scamander

Warning: None? It’s kinda sad at first. Oops. Fem!Reader tho.

ALSO, I had a different idea of how this would go like an alternate version. I could write it if someones wants me too?

Disclaimer: I could not find a scene of Newt’s trial anywhere so I got the conversation part(?) from this text. I felt bad for using it without mentioning it’s not mine. The conversation part I used is used for completely different plots. Obviously, I wouldn’t do this unless it was necessary because I couldn’t find that specific scene anywhere.

Requested by @imfuckin-gcrazy: “Could you write an imagine where Newt”s girlfriend is a veela, and he keeps her in her case most of the time in order to keep her safe but when Graves’ seizes the case he finds you and the rest is up to you 😉 thank you, I love your writing ❤

You’d been messing around and ticking the niffler when Newt and Jacob had come down into the case. You meet Newt when he worked together in the Beast Division in the ministry where you fought for justice for veelas like yourself. He feel in love with they way you would stand up for veelas and fight for justice just as he did with his creatures, and so did you. You met Jacob along with Tina and Queenie when they had come down into the case with Newt to explore his case and learn more about Newt’s love of work.You instantly took a liking to them because you felt like Newt only let people who he trusted or felt like they had a kind heart and an open mind into the case, much like you were.

With Newt’s feet touching solid ground, he made his way towards you as the most important thing on his mind currently was that he had to tell you to take care of his creatures and the case in case he didn’t get back to you. When he told you so, tears started to form in your eyes.

“What do you mean ‘In case you don’t get back’? Newt, what are you planning on doing? Please don’t leave them or me. They’re practically your children. They need you Newt. I need you.” By then you were crying hysterically. Your face as red as your raining red eyes. Newt seeing the state his words caused you to go into. He instinctively pulled you into his chest hugging you into him. He didn’t want to let you go but a knock called their attention which mean Newt and Jacob had to leave.

“I know. I need you too, but just please. Please.”He stuttered over his words. This could possibly be the last moment with his beautiful girlfriend. ”If I can’t come back, take care of them. And no matter what happens out there, no matter what you hear, don’t come for me. Please.”

“No. Newt, I can’t just leave you- “ You were cut off by Newt roughly placing his chapped lips upon yours. You both could taste your salty tears, but they were not a huge deal compared to the situation you were going through.

“Please.” Newt begged against your lips. You could not speak in fear of crying so you nodded in response. Newt blinked away the tears before turning away with Jacob turned to walk up the stairs that lead to the outside of the case when you ran to Newt pulling on his hand making his turn to face you where you meet him with one last kiss. Pulling away you cried out one last time, “I love you Newt.”

“I love you too Y/N.” Slowly he detached himself from your embrace and began to leave when he turned around and advised her to hide. He turned around sad hoping this truly was not their last moment together and began to climb up the wooden ladder with Jacob behind him.

The whole room was filled with auror wizards and other highly ranked wizards. All of them watching the trial of Newt Scamander, Porpentina Goldstein and Jacob Kowalski. According to what MACUSA understood, Newt Scamander’s case filled with magical creatures were let loose causing havoc around the city and Newt had help from Porpentina Goldstein, ex-auror and Jacob Kowaski, a muggle.

“You know which of your creatures was responsible, Mr. Scamander?” Auror Graves questioned Newt who was on his knees on the floor. They all looked at the soul embodiment of the dead studying it, including Newt.

“This was an obscurus.”

“You’ve gone too far, Mr. Scamander. There is no obsucurial in America. Impound that case, Graves.”,Madame Picquery ordered. With a a wave of his hand, the man Graves had Newt Scamander’s case in his possession.

MACUSA felt threatened and betrayed, mostly threatened as there was now a dead body which they believed was killed by one of Newt Scamander’s creatures and they were blaming Newt. Through out the whole trial you heard everything and it hurt your heart.

“Arrest them.”

“Please you don’t understand. Nothing in there is dangerous.” You heard Newt plead. You could hear the heartache and pain in his voice as he continued to plead.

“We’ll be the judges of that.”

“Take them to the cells.”

Everything everyone was saying was making it hard to concentrate on the promise you had made to Newt.

“Don’t hurt these creatures. There is nothing dangerous in there. Nothing. Please don’t hurt my creatures. They’re not dangerous. Please. They are not dangerous.” Newt’s voice echoed into the case where you hide. His screams and pleads slowly faded away making you want to run to his aid, but you couldn’t. Could you?

The case was given to two aurors to inspect. As soon as the shorter, chubby one of the aurors got to where you hid near the occamy babies, you quickly attacked him with a wand less spell and with a punch to the face just to be sure he was out of it. You were a half-veela which meant you could do wand less magic and you had your own magic.

“Well, looks like your not a no-maj like I had expected.”

“And why would you expect that?”

“Because a women as beautiful as yourself is not capable of doing that and touching a man like that.”

“Well, you’re wrong either way. I’m not a no-maj, but guess what I am?” The man, Graves said nothing.

”I’m a veela,” you revealed slowly stepping closer to him. Blinking you’re eyes turned black “An angry veela. You want to know why I’m angry? Because you have my boyfriend and my friends locked up, yet you don’t know the story as to why this case has all these creatures in it. Nor do you care right? As long as somebody is there to take the blame for your stupid mistakes. Well guess who’s blamed. The boyfriend of a veela. Really not a good thing for you mate. Not at all, but I believe you should run before you turn out like him.” You stopped to point at the small unconscious auror. “Or worse.” You ended with a sickly evil smile to warn the auror.

As soon as Graves, started running you were read to release you wings, but ended up not having to do so as soon as Graves disapparated.

Quickly and carefully you took the body up the stairs that lead to what you believed was the office of the auror. You let the body drop to the floor, not knowing what to do with it. You went to grab the case when the door was suddenly kicked open. Behind the door stood a proud Jacob and a smiling Queenie.

“Oh. Hello Queenie. Hello Jacob. He’s not dead just unconscious.” You turned around with the case and left running with Jacob and Queenie by your side. Panting in between your words you say,“You will not believe what I just did.”

“You did not?” Queenie laughed as she read your mind.

“Did not what? What did she do?” Jacob asked confused.

“Never mind that for now. We’ve got to find Tina and Newt.” Queenie jumped his question in order to continue their quest.

After a few more minutes of running around the MACUSA headquarter looking for your boyfriend and newly found friend, you turned around a corner to be meet with a wand in your face. Quickly it fell. Looking up you realized, you finally found them.

“Oh thank Godric you’re alive Newt.” You exclaimed happier than you should have been considering your current situation. Happily, you pulled his hand into your’s intertwining them.

“I thought i told you-I, I only did it to keep you safe. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be mad right now. I’m glad you’re okay.” Newt pulled you into his chest, placing kisses all over the top of you head as he wrapped his arms around you. “ Oh what about the babies?”

“We’ll had a bit of trouble in the case, but I was able to handle myself. And the babies are alright.”

“She’s pregnant?” asked a dumbfounded Jacob.

“She meant the creatures.” Tina stated.

“Well I’m glad they’re fine too. Thank you so much for that” He thanked you and placed a kiss to your forehead in which you closed your eyes trying to savor the gentle touch,”but we have to something else on our plate.”

“Now come on, we’ve got to save New York.” You state as you all started to walk out of MACUSA headquarters already planning you’re next move.

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

For me personally, Merula is a great villian rather than a good friend, her being a misundertood and secretly-nice-in-the-inside-but-though-on-the-outside (tsundere) protrayal in the fandom is a bit-"different"(?) I can't say for sure but i mostly think that the fandom's Merula and real game Merula are two different person.

Merula is flawed but thats what adds to her villianese side, and It's definitely not flattering to her good side. ( let's not forget that Tulip was so traumatized at being her friend (well not directly but there is a contributor) that she had Merula as her boggart!) If that doesn't scream toxic I cant say more-

This is the same case with Patricia Rakepick, she is not misunderstood. She is already a full grown adult for example, she knows what she is doing. They are both great villians but i don't think they would have a redemption soon. (and most certainly they aren't nice people/)

Tho Merula definitely have more chance than Rakepick, does her saying sorry really justify all of her action? More importantly would the fandom agree to accept Merula when she decided to say sorry? Personally I don't.

She had always been given a lot, and i mean a lot of chances. I agree with your older post (im a different anon) that being Merula's fan is to be patient, but does she deserve it tho?

Merula's evil deed:

- She bullies a lot of people, but the most affected by it is definitely Ben, shattering all of his confidence.

- She definitely have a disliking towards 'Mudblood' a bloodist i think(?)

- She torment the player by poking fun of her brother (who might never come back and (at that time) is still uncertain whether he is still alive or not) like can you imagine having someone you love dearly went missing and to add salt to injury, a person decided to poke fun of it.

- she tried to get the player expelled multiple time.

- This might not be the most talked about but the fact that Merula sometimes is shown using a dillusionment charm to spy on the player is a bit creepy.

- She is horrible to her friend, proof: Tulip and Merula relationship ended with Tulip having a fear that she might not be able to have friend again ( Also again i might sound repetitive but MERULA is her BOGGART!) we both know that a boggart is meant to represents a person's biggest fear. Barnaby ends up switching side to mc and lastly even though Ismelda is her only friend, she still treated her horribly. I mean how bad of a friend must you be that said friend would rather tell their biggest secret to your suppose rival rather than you?

- The fact that Merula kept insisting mc to bring Ben to the forest, in the year 6 chap 18 ( and we know whats to come) only made me believe that she intended to sacrifice him. (I mean she did try to kill mc on her first year lets not forget that, so its not far for her to do that to Ben who, mind you in her head is just a useless 'mudblood')

- she constantly tried to blame and antoganize Ben and MC prior to the chapter, Merula as far as i can tell had NEVER interact or care about Rowan until said chapter. The fact that she act like Rowan is somehow her close friend is border line unsettling.

There is probably plenty of more evil deeds that Merula had done. Which is why she is such a great villian,but as a friend, nope.

(Going under the cut because, predictably, I have a lot to say about Merula as a character.)

Before I go any further, I just want to say that I quite like, and I appreciate, the interpretation of Merula as a villain. It is absolutely valid to see her as one after all that she’s done. Up until recently, she was firmly on the side of the protagonists, and had been for a while. At least based on what the story presented to us. But there’s no denying that she enjoyed antagonizing MC. Would even do so in Year 6. Undermining them at that Circle meeting and trying to force them to teach people the Shield Charm. Throwing Rowan’s death in their face. Flirting with Jacob, and bonus cruelty points for that one if she had previously dated MC. She was, by all appearances, firmly against the villains and this gave her and MC a common enemy. But even then, that common enemy was the only thing that kept Merula with the appearance of being on our side. Naturally, this is all stuff that could make her a villain even before the reveal in Y6CH45, but said reveal more or less confirms her as one in every sense of the word.

However, as a proud fan of the Tulip x Merula ship, I have to say that I take issue with the use of Tulip’s Boggart as something that should be used against Merula. It’s very clear that this wasn’t actually about Merula, the game explicitly says that this is a symbol of Tulip’s guilt for betraying and abandoning her. Merula was just the greatest example in her mind. I likewise take issue when people try to blame Merula for the falling-out or refuse to believe that it was all Tulip’s fault. I’m not saying that Merula was easy to get along with, but the entire point of Tulip’s story is that, yes, it was her fault. You would expect it to be Merula’s fault, but it wasn’t, and I think it does a disservice to both of their characters to pretend otherwise. I’m someone who adores Tulip! But this makes her so much more interesting, and it’s proof that Merula isn’t always the one who causes the problems. I think it’s an important facet of her character that people she allows to grow close to her...well, they keep betraying her after she does.

Speaking of that, let’s talk about the forbidden character. The wound that we’re all still recovering from. Patricia Rakepick. The reveal that Merula is the mole has thrown a wrench in our understanding of this relationship, when it was so clear before. The spurned child who just wanted a mother figure, having been used by the woman she latched onto. Having been stabbed in the back and then some. But now knowing that Merula was probably the mole at this point...at this point my theory is that Merula’s hatred toward Rakepick, and that betrayal, were still genuine. Merula may have known ahead of time that Rakepick was going to turn on MC, she may not have. But either way, I don’t think she agreed to being tortured, and it’s not like it was necessary. All Rakepick needed to do was kill one of MC’s friends and get the hell out. Because of this, I think Merula genuinely did want revenge, and didn’t care that she and Rakepick were supposed to be on the same side.

It’s true. To be a fan of Merula is to be patient. And there’s a very strong case to be made that she doesn’t deserve said patience. But every player is going to have their own perspective on Merula, and have different levels of what they can accept before they decide they’re done with her. Mine is probably going to be her level of involvement with Rowan’s death. I don’t personally believe she knew that was going to happen. I think she was just as blindsided as MC by that. Like, here’s the thing - I don’t believe Merula knew that Rakepick was going to show up. Which means that R didn’t tell her everything about the meeting. So there’s that. But if Merula knew that the Forbidden Forest was a trap, if she was aware that she was leading Ben to his death, presumably...then Rowan’s death is blood on her hands too, and I don’t think that’s something that could be forgiven. Rowan is where I draw the line - which is why Rakepick is irredeemable too. Still, I think Merula can still be rescued from the dark, and I think she will be, story wise. She’s such a popular character that I expect redemption for her...but the writers are going to have their work cut out if they want the Merula Antis to accept it.

I know she’s done terrible things, and for that, you’re right. She does make a great villain. But she’s also in such pain, and she’s presumably been indoctrinated into R for a long time, that I want redemption for her. I truly believe she deserves it, and I know not everyone will agree with that.

[lindyhunt]

Stop the Madness: 6 Expert Tips on How to Declutter Your Makeup Collection

Last week, my Instagram stories were filled with similar images: mountains of clothes piled high atop various beds. “Marie Kondo made me do it,” one person captioned their picture.

Netflix’s new series Tidying up with Marie Kondo—which follows the well known Japanese organizing consultant as she tries to declutter various people’s lives—has clearly left people shook and examining their own hoarding tendencies. Even I took to my own closet shortly after watching to see about making some (much needed) cuts. And while I breezed through that process, when I got to my bathroom it was a whole different story.

I rummaged through the bins of overflowing makeup and the cupboards filled to the brim with skincare. I tried holding each lipstick in my hand, realizing with panic that although I owned 15 nudes, I couldn’t part with a single one. It made me wonder, what exactly does a makeup lover do when everything under Sephora’s roof sparks joy?

To answer this philosophical dilemma, I called up makeup artists Sheri Stroh and Jodi Urichuk who schooled me on how to downsize the right way. So get ready to purge, because spring cleaning is coming early this year.

Pile up your products

That’s right, do the signature Kondo pile up. Take all of your makeup and put it in one massive heap. “You’ll probably be horrified when you see it all like that and you’ll realize how much you don’t use and how much needs to be thrown away,” says Stroh. “Only keep what makes you feel like a million bucks.” She mentions that this is also a great way to rediscover old favourites; when we’re constantly buying new stuff we often forget about the gems we already have at home.

Figure out what your essentials are

Determine which products you can’t live without. This will be different for everyone depending on what “sparks joy”. For Urichuk, she prioritizes skincare. “I feel like if you take care and protect your skin, the rest is simple.” For Stroh, her must-haves include bronzer and a creamy cheek highlighter. “I think makeup is so intimidating for some people and that’s actually why they end up keeping so much,” she says. “When decluttering, first go through and pick out the things you never use, the things you bought on impulse or that you haven’t even opened yet. Then you’ll find your essentials.”

1/5

The Essentials

Bronzed Beauty Bronzer Duo

($58, lilah b.)

Stroh recommends this bronzer duo by lilah b. for a sun-kissed glow. It’s also cruelty-free, vegan and free of synthetic fragrances and gluten.

Buy Now

2/5

The Essentials

Hollywood Flawless Filter

($50, Charlotte Tilbury )

“I don’t wear a ton of makeup on a day to day basis but I do like a youthful glow,” says Urichuk, citing this product as one of her current favourites.

Buy Now

3/5

The Essentials

Triple Lipid Restore 2:4:2

($148, SkinCeuticals)

Urichuk recommends this anti-ageing treatment by SkinCeuticals.

Buy Now

4/5

The Essentials

Champagne Rosé Luminizer

($48 , RMS Beauty )

Stroh loves cream-based highlighters and this dewy option by RMS Beauty is one of her staples.

Buy Now

5/5

The Essentials

Caviar Stick Eye Colour

($35, Laura Mercier )

“A long wearing cream eyeshadow or eyeshadow sticks are my preference,” says Urichuk. “They’re fast and have no fall out.”

Buy Now

Keep a couple of fun items

Neutral palettes definitely get a lot more use than colourful ones, but decluttering shouldn’t mean throwing out everything fun. Keep a couple of things that aren’t in your everyday makeup routine. “And don’t just save these items for special occasions,” says Urichuk. “They go bad or turn if they’re creams or liquids in six to 12 months.” For products that will last a little longer, Stroh recommends fun items like pastel or jewel-toned eyeliners and bold lipsticks.

1/4

Fun Items

Highliner Gel Crayon Eyeliner: Intro(Vert)

($31, Marc Jacobs )

This mermaid green liner can transform any look.

Buy Now

2/4

Fun Items

Colour Riche Matte Lipstick: Matte Mandate

($13, L'Oréal Paris)

Hold onto colours that can easily spice up any outfit.

Buy Now

3/4

Fun Items

24/7 Glide-On Eye Pencil: Vice

($25, Urban Decay )

Make a statement with this pearly eggplant shade.

Buy Now

4/4

Fun Items

Amplified Lipstick: Morange

($23, MAC Cosmetics )

This fiery orange colour is as bold as it gets.

Buy Now

Be wary of expiration dates

As discussed above, makeup does have an expiry date. When you’re decluttering, don’t hold on to things you know are beyond their time. Pay extra attention to products that are cream-based, contain water or get exposed to the air often. “I use a lot of green beauty products and I do find that they don’t last as long as conventional brands,” Stroh mentions.

Keep multi-purpose products

Multi-purpose products are amazing when it comes to space saving and they’re great for the bank account, too. “I’m a working mom and I have zero time,” says Urichuk. “So I live for these multitaskers.”

1/4

The Multi-Taskers

Agave Lip Mask

($30, Bite Beauty )

These hydrating lip balms also work great as glosses and come in a variety of shades. One of Urichuk’s favourites is “Champagne” a rose gold pearl colour.

Buy Now

2/4

The Multi-Taskers

Nudies Matte Blush & Bronze: Naughty n' Spice

($33, Nudestix)

These sticks are ideal for multi-tasking. From eyeshadow to lipstick to blush, you’ll be able to create an edgy monochrome look with ease.

Buy Now

3/4

The Multi-Taskers

Eight Hour Cream Skin Protectant

($31, Elizabeth Arden )

“Eight hour cream can be used for everything,” says Urichuk. “Burns, chapped lips, wind burn, highlighter, glossy lids etc.”

Buy Now

4/4

The Multi-Taskers

Ambient Lighting Blush: Luminous Flush

($45, Hourglass )

Stroh recommends investing in a shimmery blush that can double up as a highlighter.

Buy Now

Get your makeup storage just right

“If you can’t see it, odds are you won’t use it,” says Urichuk. “Like your closet, the rules are the same for your makeup bag. I have a few clear bins with things that I love but don’t wear regularly and I switch them in for a change-up every couple of weeks.” Both makeup artists also recommend make-your-own palettes and de-potting things you already own. “I know that people love palettes, but for me whenever I buy one I only use a couple of eyeshadows and there always ends up being ones that I don’t even touch,” says Stroh. “So building your own is really nice. You get exactly what you want and what you’ll use.”

[wgwhite]

David Brin’s ‘Uplift Trilogy’, A review – Or: ‘You had me at intelligent Chimpanzees fighting alien Birds’

How long would it take you to read a book about spacefaring Dolphins, and Chimpanzees at war with giant birds? A week, maybe two? It took me eight months.

But that’s because I’m a slow reader.

Some time last year I picked up David Brin’s ‘The Postman‘. I was in full swing of my post-apoc one man hype train and I was choo-choosing a classic that I’d heard good things about. I loved it, and David Brin went straight to my ‘keep an eye on this chap’ list. I then picked up ‘Sundiver’, also by Brin, and the good scientist-come-author had cemented his place on my ‘I’m watching you’ list.

I was about a third way through Sundiver when Christmas reared its jolly head. My girlfriend’s parents had gotten me (on top of a bitching Superman onesie) the Uplift Trilogy. So, Sundiver, Startide Rising, and The Uplift War all rolled into a mammoth 1205 page monster. It’s big. I’ve seen smaller toddlers. This thing could kill a pensioner.

I’m not sure how to approach this review really. There were aspects I liked of all three books, and things I didn’t like. I mean…Startide Rising and The Uplift War are Hugo and Locus & Nebula award winning, whilst Sundiver (my favourite of the three) received no awards.

The scope and the concept are fantastically large. Brin does a spectacular job of making his universe feel dauntingly huge, and then–somehow–manages to make it feel claustrophobic too!

The concept, whilst simple at its core, is built brilliantly and remains, throughout the whole series, as the central conflict. That concept? Uplift. Uplift is the act of dragging an animal kicking and screaming into intelligence whether they want it or not. Because misery loves company, and why be content with only arrogant humans when we can surround ourself with a Noah’s Ark of wise-crakin’ know-it-alls?

In Brin’s universe the only way for a species to achieve sapience is to be ‘Uplifted’ by an intelligent species. The Uplifted species become Clients (read: slaves) to their Patrons (read: masters) for a few millennia until they get to spread the joy of intelligence to their very own Clients (read: salves)! Humans (the Wolfling Clan) are special because we don’t have a Patron race. We allegedly stumbled and fumbled our way into intelligence by evolution–a process thought impossible–so every other race in the five galaxies hates us. The rest are indifferent. Only a handful actually like us. Sounds about right, I only like a handful of humans myself. The leading theory in-universe is that we were half Uplifted and our would be Patrons cut and ran. Can’t blame ’em really.

The stories themselves are also pretty basic at their core (the best ones always are).

Sundiver details a mission to the Sun (hence the name) where funky lifeforms have been discovered. Our hero, Jacob Demwa: a marine biologist/ astronaut/ political mastermind/ Private eye/ human swiss army knife, finds himself caught in a mysterious conspiracy to debunk humanities’ competence on the Galactic stage.

Startide Rising focuses on a mostly Dolphin crew hiding out in the waters of an alien world whilst a huge, intergalactic war wages overhead. What are the powerful galactics fighting over? The Streaker, the Dolphin crewed ship. They made a discovery and now everyone wants a piece’a that sweet, sweet sushi. The crew need to work out a way to escape the star system in one piece, whilst keeping their findings close to chest…close to fin?

The Uplift War takes place towards the end of Startide Rising and then just after. This time we’re on the planet Garth during an invasion of the terrifying, brutal, Gubru. A race of super intimidating bird folk…We’re sans Dolphin this time, as Garth is a human/ Chimp planet. All across the five galaxies, war is waging over the Streaker’s mysterious discovery. Earth and her colonies are under siege, and the Gubru, religious fanatics, decided to roost on good ol’ Garth…Bloody Dolphins ruining everything.

There’s no suggested reading order (if you get all three books separately that is, and are a shameless anarchist) but in a chronological sense the order is as seen above. The stories, however, are all so independent, and the concepts so throughly explored in each book, that you could, in theory, read them whichever way you’d ruddy well like (in theory I could scream whilst I’m on the bus, but I don’t…some things are just wrong). Sundiver takes place a good century before the events of the next two, but only affects Startide Rising in the sense that one of the protagonists is a mentee of Jacob Demwa, the protagonist of Sundiver. So he’s mentioned maybe twice? If you read Uplift War before Startide you’ll hear mention of Streaker and a bunch a cowboy Dolphins, but it doesn’t affect the plot of Uplift War. Startide does provide some context though, as you’ll understand why Garth is under siege. I’d recommend reading them in order, because why not?

I enjoyed Sundiver immensely, even with Demwa’s almost God like abilities. It’s a fun read from a (at the time) new author with really big ideas. The concept of Uplift is fascinating, and I found the creatures living in earth’s sun to be really well imagined. I’d hoped, however, that Brin would focus more on the life forms in the sun and less on the crime/ mystery plot. But that’s Brin’s business. Good book, very enjoyable read.

Startide Rising I didn’t enjoy quite as much as Sundiver, but it’s still a solid read. It’s tense in all the right places, tragic and exciting. Brin imagines the nature of intelligent (neo)Dolphins very well, and does his best to flaunt them. To that end we only have four or five human characters against a whole crew of Dolphins (and one Chimp–what a lad). Truthfully, I fond my suspension of disbelief wavering somewhat; there were moments that made me put the book down, but there were also plenty of moments where I couldn’t stop reading, too. For me though, Startide Rising shows Brin’s ambition. The novel is saturated with perspective characters, all of whom have complicated names, a lot of the time it’s a struggle to remember who’s who.

An issue that’s made significantly worse in The Uplift War.

My least favourite of the three, The Uplift War has long, confusing names like Uthacalthing, Athaclena and Prathachulthorn. Only two of these names belong to aliens, the other is human. Bet’cha can’t guess which one. I kinda just made a noise when Prathachulthorn reared it’s ugly head…It really destroyed my flow.

The saving grace of this book is Fiben. Your classic anti-hero action type who just happens to be a Neo-Chimpanzee. I lived for his chapters, and (surprisingly) the Gubru chapters. With the exception of perhaps Unthacalhing, I found a lot of the other perspective characters borderline boring. None more so than Athaclena. A member of the Tymbrimi, Earth’s closest (read: only) allies, the Tymbrimi are galactic pranksters, hilarious rogues. Yet Brin decided not to show us your typical Tymbrimi prankster, instead we got Athaclena. She’s brash, stubborn and almost completely humourless. I don’t understand the purpose of introducing a race of jokers if the only two you show us are considered ‘boring’ to their own people!

I didn’t dislike The Uplift War, not at all. I only felt it was…flat compared to the other two books. It fizzled. I can’t recall a climatic scene, only a slow pattering away, and then the end. A shame really.

There are more books in this series, and I might get around to them one day. But for now I need smaller books. I need books that don’t double the weight of my bag every time I head out for the day.

* * *

David Brin is a multi-award winning novelist and scientist. He’s a ruddy good author, so check him out!

Links to his website: www.davidbrin.com

Link to the Uplift Trilogy on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Uplift-Complete-Original-Trilogy-Omnibus-ebook/dp/B009EA355E/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1438893373&sr=1-2&keywords=Uplift