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frost-queen · 1 year

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The little things (Fem!Reader x Harriet)

Requested by: anon Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco @idkwhatmyusernam, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr

You touched your cheek feeling the sting of pain. – “Shit!” – you called out. Spitting some blood on the ground. Sonya walked over to you, moving her gun to her back. Her face contracted with sympathetic pain. – “That is for sure going to hurt.” – she said. – “Why did that idiot had to use his gun as a puncher!” – you exclaimed, looking down at the man. – “Well at least have some comfort that he is dead.” – Sonya answered setting her foot on his thigh.

“Yeah, thanks for that.” – you breathed out. – “No worries. Harriet would have my head if something would’ve happened to you.” – she replied patting your shoulder. You laughed quietly putting your own gun away. Sonya moved her arm around you, walking you back to the vehicle. – “I think Harriet will have my head after seeing this.” – you pointed at the wound on your cheekbone.

Sonya shrugging her shoulder. – “Maybe today is a good day to die?” – she laughed getting behind the wheel. You hopped in the seat beside her. Dust flying up from underneath the tires. You kept touching the wound, flinching at the pain. Sonya sighed. – “Will you stop touching it, you probably make it worse with your dirty hands.”

“I don’t have…” – you started looking down at your hands. Grinning sheepishly, you tugged them between your legs under Sonya’s ‘told you so’ glance. Sonya drove the truck back to camp. It didn’t take long before Harriet approach the truck. Stopping in shock at the aftermath on your face. You smiled, the only thing missing was you say ‘tadaa’. – “What the hell happened!” – Harriet looked to Sonya, angered.

Sonya shut the door of the truck hard. – “Some idiot bullet’s ran out so he decided to knock Y/n with his gun.” – Sonya told her. Harriet gaped at you seeing you pull your shoulders up. – “Don’t worry he didn’t lived very long after.” – Sonya said having approached Harriet. Leaving her hand on her shoulder. Sonya looked over her shoulder to you before heading off. You came closer to Harriet, swallowing nervously. – “Sorry…” – you said, eyes down.

Harriet exhaled relieved, wrapping her arms around you. – “I’m just glad you are alive.” – she spoke hugging you tighter. You hugged her back, needing her comfort. – “Come.” – Harriet said, taking your hand. You followed her through the camp.

She seated you down near a bin that contained burning wood for heat. – “I’ll be right back.” – she said leaning down to kiss your forehead. You nodded watching her head into a tent. A moment later she returned with aiding supplies. Presenting them flirtatious to you. You dramatically waved yourself some cool. – “Oh I am so getting spoiled now.” – you teased when Harriet came sitting down in front of you.

“Give me one more heart attack and I won’t be so spoiling anymore.” – she commented sarcastically. – “Then I’ll just have to do it for you.” – you answered with a wink. Harriet rolled her eyes at you. – “This might sting Y/n.” – she let you know, putting some liquid on a tissue. She touched your chin to keep your head in place. You flinched making Harriet lower her hand bothered. – “I haven’t even touched you yet.” – she said.

“I know, I was just preparing.” – you answered. Harriet grabbed your chin firmly wanting to make sure you wouldn’t pull back again. The tissue touched your wound as you bit on your lip, fighting the urge to curs you heart out. – “Told you it would sting.”

“Fffff fuck!” – you blurted, needing to shout something for the pain. Harriet chuckled dapping your wound more. – “You are enjoying this aren’t you?” – you spoke seeing her smile. – “Not at all…” – she answered pressing the tissue deeper onto your wound, making you cringe in pain. – “Okay maybe a little.” – she confessed teasingly with a chuckle. You crossed your arms, finding it anything but funny.

“Oh come on Y/n. I am just playing around.” – she said lowering her hand. She reached down for a bandage. Before she stuck the bandage on your cheek, she kissed you by surprise. You smiled, kissing her back. Harriet grabbed for your shoulder, taking it. You gulped, pulling away at something sticking on your arm. You looked at your shoulder, seeing the bandage stick half on your skin.

Harriet laughed loud apologizing. She took a new bandage sticking it over your wound. – “Now you may once more.” – you told her, gesturing for her to kiss you again. – “Yes please.” – Harriet answered kissing you. Her fingers running through your hair.

Later that night you laid on Harriet’s stomach watching the stary sky. Harriet moving her fingers through your hair. Her other hand on yours that laid on your chest. – “Does it still hurt?” – she asked. You shook your head. Harriet’s fingers going through your hair was so soothing it made you sleepy. – “Harriet.” – you said hearing her hum loud in response. – “I love you.” – you needed to say out loud before you’d fall asleep. – “I love you too Y/n. My survivor girl.” – you laughed at the nickname.

Harriet’s upper body shuddering with laughter as well. You removed your head from her stomach so that she could lay next to you. You snugged up to her, taking a deep breath. Her arms protective over you. – “I’ll always protect you, Y/n.” – she’d whisper. You drifted away, falling asleep from a long day. Harriet kissed your forehead. Enclosing you tighter in her embrace.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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dearharriet · 2 months

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congrats on 150!! for your celebration can I please have 🫧 with sirius black + “oh, that’s new”? Maybe reader got a tattoo without telling him and he likes it

thank you for requesting! 🩷 (wc: 664)

Sirius can’t stop staring at you in the sauna towel you’re wearing. You’ve both been in for several minutes now, and you’re relaxing more and more into the wood bench. He’s not sure he’s ever seen your shoulders so far away from your ears, and he’s definitely never seen your hair pulled off your neck the way that it is.

It gives him too much skin to work with, visually speaking. You’re completely free and clear of any curtains, your skin sticky with dew, legs sprawling and bare. The two of you make a happy sight.

As the air thins down, you stretch up and ladle more water over the hot rocks. Sirius watches a bead of sweat race down the back of your neck with rapt attention. He loses sight of it when he spots your tattoo.

“Oh,” he breathes, a strange twisting in his chest, “that’s new, yeah?”

You hum breezily, pouring one more generous scoop onto the hissing stones before giving him your questioning eyes.

“What’s new?” Sirius brings a hand up to absently rub at his own bare nape, and you seem to catch his meaning, sweeping your fingers over it bashfully. “Oh, that. Yeah. You’ve seen it haven’t you?”

He shakes his head no. “When was this?”

“Umm,” you dally. “Like a week and some ago? I wasn’t really planning it at all.”

Sirius watches you carefully, perhaps reading a small bit too far into your rosy flush. The air in the steam room is thick and hot now, thanks to you, which could easily be the cause. Still, you’ve retreated from him slightly, holding your arms nervously over your torso.

“Can I see?” Sirius requests, beckoning you to his side of the room. You oblige him, standing and relocating to the spot on his right.

You face your back to him, pushing away nonexistent baby hairs to clear the view. Sirius tentatively takes your neck under his fingers, holding you still.

It’s worse up close, which is to say dangerous for his health. He can’t believe what he’s looking at.

“You got a star,” he says distantly, not quite trusting his voice to keep steady. A star.

Your head falls forward and Sirius marvels at the way your tattoo stretches, wraps tight over your vertebrae.

“Like I said, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “right.”

Reluctantly, Sirius peels himself away from you, returning stiffly to the cedar bench. His skin feels alive, thrumming with heat.

You settle back beside Sirius instead of returning to your bench.

“Is it what you hoped?” he asks, half to break the tension and half because he’d really like to know.

You nod, and Sirius’ eyes train down to the black shape again, unable to resist now that it’s right there.

“Yeah. I always wanted something for my neck, but I never could decide what.” You’re picking at your towel wrap awkwardly, sickly aware of Sirius’ hot gaze on you. You knew for a fact he hadn’t seen the tattoo yet, and you were almost dreading when he'd finally catch sight of it.

“I like it,” he says in passionate agreement. “I really, really like it.”

Your lips twitch into a smile, and you throw a sideways glance his way. “Yeah?” He nods avidly, and you release a relieved laugh. “I was hoping you would.”

“Can I see it one more time?” he asks. You laugh some more.

“Um, okay. Yeah.”

Sirius stares at the ink for another long minute, long enough for you to begin fidgeting with impatience.

“Yeah,” he concludes finally, “you’ll have to show this off more. Keep your hair up like this, maybe?”

Puffing in amusement, you peek over your shoulder shyly. “If you say so.”

“I say so,” he laughs. “I definitely say so.”

Stomach swooping with butterflies, you face forward again, trying to retain some semblance of composure.

“Well, okay then.” You sit back, relaxing some, milling in the warmth you feel inside and out.

thank you for reading! xx

masterlist

join the celebration!

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thebluestbluewords · 3 months

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Dunderback, oh Dunderback…

Somewhat graphic descriptions of injury, isle-related violence. Not actually that dark despite this.

"Dizzy," Evie asks sweetly. "You've been on the isle more recently than us. Do the twins..."

She trails off meaningfully.

Dizzy blinks up at her like a little red-headed bobble toy. "Do they what? I was thinking about the best ways to starch cobweb lace into shape for a hair bow and I think I stopped listening at the end there. Sorry. What did they do now?"

Oh, little Dizzy. Never change.

Mal puts down her spoon, and actually swallows her mouthful of cereal, instead of talking with her mouth open and full, because despite her insinuations otherwise she is aware that it's a disgusting habit and Evie hates it. "Do they talk, Diz? Because from where we are, it looks like they've been here for a week, and the only people we've seen them talk to is each other."

They do talk!" Dizzy says quickly, putting down her own spoon as well. "Just. Not to other people."

Great. Perfect. They'll have a great time explaining that one to Fairy Godmother. Their new kids, who are supposed to be a hand-picked selection of model citizens, fresh from the ferocious claws of Harriet Hook herself, only talk to each other. That'll go over great, Mal's sure of it. Nothing at all to make FG absolutely nutty there.

Still. Mal's old and wise now, and the twins' issues aren't Dizzy's fault.

"Do they talk to you, Diz?" she asks, trying to emulate Evie's sweet tone. "We thought maybe they like you better than us."

Dizzy frowns. Her whole face scrunches up when she does it. It's cute, but it's also a reminder that they have got to get that girl a new pair of glasses that aren't so broken they're falling off her face. Maybe there's a special Auradon glasses store out there somewhere, where they'll be able to achieve one of Evie's lifelong dreams and get glasses that are actually cute and functional for Dizzy.

And maybe sheep will fly, and the twins will start talking, and they'll all get a pony.

Dizzy pushes her glasses back up her nose with a practiced flick of her fingers. "Well, no. They used to talk to me more, but... Evie, do we have to talk about it?"

"We want to make sure they can communicate with us, Diz."

Dizzy sighs. Her sharp little elbows are resting on the table, which is another thing they're going to have to train her out of before the fall. Fairy Godmother is nuts about table manners. "They used to talk more, but there was a fight in March between Hook's crew and Harriet's crew, and it got so loud that a bunch of the unaffiliated pirates decided it was their problem to shut them all up before they all started burning buildings again, so they stepped in with their swords, which were fresh out of Gaston's fight club, the one he fired Gil from, remember?"

"I remember.”

Spirits bolstered by the acknowledgement, Dizzy nods, and flicks her glasses up her nose again. "So their swords were really sharp, and Mister Smee, he's the one who always tries to step between pirates and talk them down when they're getting loud, because he knows how mean the neighborhood is. But this time, the unaffiliated gang didn't let him get a word in, and they--" She stops. "Do I have to say it? I don't want to remember."

Mal looks to Evie, who shrugs, and looks back to Dizzy again. They're not really equipped to deal with something so bad that even Dizzy won't talk about it, but if they don't know what they're dealing with, they're not going to be able to make a plan of action. "You can summarize."

"They made him into meat." Dizzy says bluntly, shuddering. "It was awful. Like sausages were spilling out of him, only it was just guts, and I had to go wash the blood off the front steps after, because Harriet dragged him out and brought him to the house, because she knows that Anthony keeps a guts needle in the house, and the twins were there when they were stitching him back up, and I don't think they saw everything that happened, but they were there when-- when he started dying for real, and I think that's when they stopped talking to other people."

#my fic #descendants #descendants fic #Harriet and Anthony and Sammy and Maddy do exist in this AU!!#they’re just #playing some isle politics games #so they’re not exactly on their way to Auradon yet

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go-catch-a-chickn · 3 months

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but this is not the end

Newt in death, is not smiling, but there’s no furrowed brow either, no stress painted on his face. He has nothing to worry about anymore. Sonya has no idea what the future holds for them, but she hopes that Newt has gone to a place as dreamy and safe as the island they are headed to. She doesn’t want his soul to miss out on paradise.

Sonya expected to go to Safe Haven with her brother at her side, but then everything goes wrong. They never get to reunite as siblings and it leaves Sonya heart broken upon the arrival at Safe Haven. When Sonya is given Newt's necklace it brings her unexpected comfort.

or: Newt is a ghost in the Safe Haven

written as a secret santa gift for @astralpenguin 💖💫

read on ao3

#yes i broke my own heart with this fic and i cried multiple times while writing it #major character death #hurt/comfort #sonya tmr #newt tmr #harriet tmr #thomas tmr #sonyarriet #newtmas #tmr #the maze runner #my writing #my moodboard

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humaudrey · 6 days

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My version of Anthony Tremaine!

The only grandson of Lady Tremaine and the second eldest of all of her grandchildren (this leaves many people to assume he's the favorite and they're not entirely wrong, he's just one of the few she's willing to put up with. ((the real favorite is Dizzy and he knows it)))

His father is one of Shan Yu's soldiers, who was in a committed relationship with Anastasia at first.

His father immediately disowned him and his mother the second Anastasia had announced she was pregnant, and since then, Anthony prided himself on being a Tremaine.

He doesn't know who his father is, and at this point, he tries to act like doesn't care.

He treats most of his sisters and cousins as nuisances, but you wouldn't dare disrespect any of them around him (and don't refer to them as "half-siblings" either).

He's not a fighter or warrior of sorts, so don't expect a fight (he'd more than likely lose), but he's smart and clever enough to find other ways to exact revenge.

Bisexual, he doesn't lean toward any gender in particular and doesn't really bother hiding it.

Self taught on the piano, Lady Tremaine offered lessons but neither of the two had the patience for the other.

Anthony's also a talented dancer, he learned ballroom from Lady Tremaine, and mimicked what he saw on TV (his favorite show was Dancing With The Royals).

Lady Tremaine also taught him how to sew, which is why most of his clothes are fitted perfectly for him (he started the patched leather trend).

Anthony is no stranger to makeup. He usually sticks to a natural colored lip and eyeshadow, and concealer, but he also contours his face and sticks to darker colors to make himself look older and more mature ("like a lord") for special occasions.

He's as vain, greedy, and self-centered as any other villain on the Isle, but he stays in his own lane. As long as you mind your business, he has no real problem with you.

His desire to leave the Isle rivals that of Uma's. He's usually very low-key about it though.

Anthony swears that he will regain his family's property, assets, and social standing, and he's willing to do so, no matter the cost.

Despite the Isle's unique societal norms, Harriet was the first person Anthony truly fell for and they became the first official power couple of the VKs (This would then boost his reputation with his peers, and have others throwing themselves at him, thus ruining their relationship and resulting in Harriet and Ginny's fight at Uma's birthday party).

Once he gets to Auradon, he and Chad become sworn enemies. (And it doesn't help that he and Audrey start dating soon after Maleficent's second attack at Auradon Prep)

@lilicohirukoma (because I remember you wanted to be tagged in anything I post involving him).

#disney descendants #anthony tremaine #chad charming #audrey descendants #anastasia tremaine #dizzy tremaine #harriet hook #ginny gothel #lady tremaine #my fic series: barriers #my fic: tptel #😍#✊

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toby-du-coeur · 7 months

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sonya looking at aris moodboard

#ARE YOU SEEING WHAT IM SEEING #plus bonus harriet & sonya both looking at him like hes something to eat #i was making the liveblog for tdc and i..#this is..#they're so soft?#i ship it so much now ok #there's only 5 sonyaris fics why :'#sonyaris #sonyariset #sonya x aris #art of my heart #from the heart #aris tmr #sonya tmr #maze runner aris #maze runner sonya #sonya maze runner #tmr moodboard

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khronysus · 6 months

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Colony

Item #: SCP-11230

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-11230 is to be kept in a 2m x 2m x 2m containment chamber in Site-██. Any vents in the chamber must be fitted with a 0.███mm mesh screen. A decontamination chamber is to separate the room containing SCP-11230 and the rest of the site. All staff must pass a psychological evaluation and be cleared for entry by the on-site psychologist before attempting to make contact with SCP-11230.

Staff entering the chamber with SCP-11230 must wear a level ██ hazmat suit. When exiting the room with SCP-11230, staff are to be doused with carbon dioxide gas to kill any instance of SCP-11230 that may be present on them. In the event that a staff member’s hazmat suit is breached while in the chamber with SCP-11230, they are to be doused with carbon dioxide and immediately taken to quarantine, where they will be monitored for infection.

All instances of SCP-11230-01 are to be reported as soon as possible to MTF ████-██ (“Entomophobes”) and avoided at all costs. If physical contact is made with any instance of SCP-11230, immediately report to Dr. Kennedy for quarantine and monitoring.

Description: SCP-11230 is a colony of insectoid creatures resembling larvae of the Vespula genus. Their behaviour aligns with that of non-anomalous wasp larvae. Despite being in Foundation custody for █ years, the larvae do not appear to mature. They are able to reproduce by [DATA EXPUNGED].

SCP-11230 originally resided in an object resembling a wasp nest (SCP-11230-01-A) in the attic of an apartment building in Archway, London. SCP-11230-01-A was destroyed in 2014 after [REDACTED].

Foundation personnel were first notified of SCP-11230-01-B (formerly known as J███ P██████) after [DATA EXPUNGED] resulting in seven deaths. In 2016, SCP-11230-01-B was located once more by Researcher B███████ in Archway, London. It was successfully contained and sent to Site-14. According to reports sent to ███ ██████ ██████, at least two more instances of SCP-11230-01 exist.

SCP-11230-01-B is still capable of walking and speaking but otherwise does not display any signs of life. The body appears to be rotting, held together by material similar to that used to make wasp nests. Utterances by SCP-11230-01-B are solely focused on creating new instances of SCP-11230-01.

#the magnus archives #scp #jane prentiss #jordan kennedy #timothy hodge #harriet lee #the corruption #tma scp au #tales of site 14 #tma #tma fic #scp fic #my writing #cw unreality

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ricardian-werewolf · 2 months

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Fanfic Masterlist:

(Cover is of Gassed, by John Singer Sargent. Held in the custody of IWM London). (cover made using Canva). Abstract: Set in an alternate timeline of the Grishaverse where the country of Ravka very closely resembles the Western Front of the Great War, this is a fic that sets out to explore an idea: What if First Army developed their own order of Saints, and how this affects the war effort. Part reflection on Religion, War, femininity, and social propaganda movements, part war-story Straight from the early 20th century a la the writings of Will R Bird. All angst. Characters: Nikolai Lantsov, Dominik Vertov, Olga Kylov (oc), Will R Bird, Alina Starkov, and others! Pairings: Nikolai x OC. Rating: Mature CW/TWs: War, mentions of extreme violence, universe typical prejudices, heavy discussions of religion. Later chapters go into period typical sexism of the late Victorian period, and share cases similar to that of the Red Army's female soldiers of ww2. Masterlist: (updated with new chapters) 1. Over There

Rating: Mature Cw/Tws: heavy discussions of mental health, prices of religious trauma and sainthood. Lots of mentions of attempted assassinations by Vasily. Sexual assault mentions, smut in later chapters, graphic depictions of violence, but canon. merzost being used anti-canonically.

Ao3 Link: Masterlist: (Updated with new chapters).

Stars 'round his wrists.

When I am King, you will be first against the wall.

Take My hand, I'll drown you with me.

But your profile could not hide the fact you knew I was approaching your throne.

The world is lying fallow and you are apart from me.

Holy Water cannot help you now.

Still, I follow the Heartlines on your hand.

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap.

The Cost of the Crown.

I am a world's forgotten boy.

Non-Grishverse FIC. **** Profunda Venae - Deep veins.

Chronicling a split off of English history during the weeks after Victoria’s coronation, this series explores the What-Ifs of the English Industrial revolution and the idea of vampires being representative of the ruling class. It also dives into the ideas of class revolution, Nuclear Winter, the usage of productive power to control the narrative, and more. It is also mainly a narrative of just how dangerous controlling the reins of who tells history can truly be.

Written during the hardest years of my life, this series was created to be a distraction from the mires and misery of Neurodivergency in a common-education experience.

Book 1 is set in a world much like our own with certain shifts. Book 2 is a world that starts out similar and quickly becomes quite different. Book 3 is a world that is far in the past and far in the future all at once.

Book 1: The Lineaments of Malefaction: [Finished]

Synopsis:

1838 - the house of Hanover and the United Kingdom are at last stable. Queen Victoria has taken to the throne with Lord M at her shoulder as her beloved Prime Minister. However, as always, those left in the shadows squabble and plot.

For what more of a travesty can there be than a sweet queen of 18, and a human one at that?

Wrongs must always be righted, regardless of who is in the way. Sometimes those means are more dastardly than anyone could imagine. As someone once said, family is not stronger than the blood that is spilt on the battlefield of power.

Chapter List, with dates of publication:

1. Pills and plans (2022-03-11)

2. Blood in the water (2022-03-12)

3. A murder of politicians (2022-03-13)

4. Ballrooms and bites (2022-03-13)

5. The Revenants of Pemberley (2022-03-17)

6. Lifting the veil (2022-03-17)

7. Burning down the castle (2022-03-28)

8. Shadows, the stars, and you. (2022-03-28)

9. Oh Noel (2022-04-02)

10. For the Queen (2022-04-02)

11. If we burn, you burn with us (2022-04-07)

12. recovery and revolution (2022-04-07)

13. Paint it black (2022-04-07)

14. A wedding and a honeymoon. (2022-04-07)

15. All that ends well (2022-04-07)

Book 2: The Evils of Darkness: [Finished]

Synopsis:

1848 - the house of Kingsbridge and England have enjoyed 8 years of relative peace and quiet. Victoria and Lord M are at last united in matrimony and state, and those who opposed their rule are defeated or interred. Yet, plans always abound to take down those some see as unpopular.

For vampires aren’t fit to rule humans. Even in a place like Great Britain, wrongs must be righted, and balance must be restored.

No matter the personal cost.

Chapter List:

1. A bad beginning (2022-04-18)

2. Hold tight London (2022-04-21)

3. The Threads of eternity. (2022-04-21)

4. The War Game (2022-05-06)

5. When the wind blows (2022-05-06)

6. The Day After (2022-05-18)

7. Protect and survive (2022-05-30)

8. Operation square leg (2022-06-06)

9. Do no harm (2022-06-25)

10. Nuclear winter (2022-07-22)

11. Babylon (2022-08-17) Book 3: Dum Pugnatur, Bellum Amittitur [ongoing]

Synopsis:

1865 - the thrones of Queen Victoria and King William are lost to the wastelands. The House of Kingsbridge is no more, and in its place, factions plot and squabble to rule the destroyed land once called England.

But that is easier said then done, for England herself is a place of ruin and starvation. For the nuclear winter that ripped the royal family apart has rolled its citizens back to the Middle Ages. But for those who have survived the hell of 1858, there is a new threat on the horizon that may blot out even 1848 - America has been at war with itself for going on 4 years, and there is whispers abounding that the Royal Family may be amongst the evacuees who fled on the steamship, the Kerberos.

All of these whispers and plans within plans make for a perfect firestorm to be set upon England's starving lower classes, for as someone once said: fealty is not stronger than the blood that is spilled on the battlefield of power.

Chapter list:

1. Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent (2023-02-02)

2. Ravens feathers and Mozart (2023-08-11)

3. Paternoster Row (2023-09-25)

4. The Evil Genius of the Republican Party. (2023-10-09)

5. A Plea To Fate (2023-11-15)

6. Marian (2024-03-07)

Fear and Delight, or how I learned to stop worrying and wear gloves to hide my trauma.

Synopsis:

* Set During Season 2 of the Gilded Age - does not follow central plot by the beats*. Title taken from Dr Strangelove. ***** The Russell's Newport mansion could be called many things. The New York Times called it “Grandiose - a paragon of modern architecture.” The Post deemed it: “The newly-built mansion is a sign of the shifting tides of New Money upon our cities elite,”. More attention was paid to the ongoing Opera War waged by Bertha Russell and her arch nemesis, Caroline Astor. Astor had the boxes at the Academy of Music and dealt them out like generals awarding medals to soldiers who’d survived a conflict: rarely given and precious to only a few. Bertha Russell had set up the enemy camp with her Metropolitan Opera house (still undergoing building and desperately needing funds), and sought to gain some of the broken backs of the Academy’s patrons. The more soldiers - patrons - Mrs Russell could win over in advance of the Met’s opening, the better. ***** Robber Barons, The Crows, a Princess who is in America to settle an old Score, all for one very mediocre production of Faust.

Chapter list:

1. Washington Square (2024-01-12)

2. Old Money (2024-01-21)

Blood of the Immortals:

Synopsis:

Atlantic City, 1921. Prohibition has come in with a bang, and the bootleggers long to profit off of people’s desire for spirits. But some of their intentions and creations come with nasty consequences. Sometimes, liquor really can kill. And for Nucky Thompson, that’s a gamble he’s willing to take. Even if federal agents are snapping at his heels, and people are dying in the streets, Atlantic City, is after all, the world’s playground.

Chapter list:

1. Blood stained sheets (2021-07-14)

2. The ivory tower (2021-07-14)

3. The tin soldier (2021-07-24)

4. A Wolf, a man, and a plan (2021-08-10)

5. Every little thing she does is madness. (2021-09-14)

6. Leave before the sun comes up (2021-09-27)

7. Burning for you (2021-10-05)

8. Death Race (2021-10-14)

9. The darkest hour is before the dawn (2021-10-18)

10. Don’t turn your back (2021-10-18)

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dylanconrique · 20 days

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idk if i'm gonna include this in my chenford pregnancy fic, but i was thinking about who would be the certified baby whisperer at mid-wilshire, and at first i was like, "it's totally grey", but then as i was thinking about it some more i was like, "nah it's totally smitty". 😂😂

#*carly catalogs #chenford pregnancy fic #i was just thinking about exasperated new chenford parents showing up at the station with their baby who won't stop crying #and angela and nyla urge them to go to smitty #to which tim and lucy look at each other like 'really? smitty??' 🤨#and they're like 'yes trust us there's just something about him that babies love'#was thinking about that one time in grey's where owen was looking after harriet and this just came to me #you know how some people just have that energy about them that instantly calms babies down???????#yeah you can't convince me smitty doesn't have that superpower #i can totally see them handing off their daughter to him and her instantly going quiet like 'how the holy hell did you do that?' 😧#the rookie #chenford #maybe i'll write a lil snippet of this separate from my actual pregnancy fic

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dearharriet · 2 months

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HII!! CAN I REQUEST TEN THINGS I HATE ABT YOU + JAMES POTTER PLEASE 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 I FOUND UR BLOG AND I AM OVSSESSED !!!!!!

hi hi you’re so lovely!!! i had to think on this one for a while but i think i like how it came out! james seems much more like cameron than patrick, i hope u don’t mind <3 (wc: 1.2K)

You get the sudden feeling that you’ve been completely messed about at this stupid house party.

Down the driveway, your so-called friend is climbing into the passenger seat of a Porsche, leaving you behind in less than ideal autumn-garb; A red dress that falls too short and clings too thin to your wind-whipped torso, and a sad excuse for a shawl are all you have for warmth.

And if things could get any worse, you’re likely going to have to walk home in the kitten heels you insisted on wearing.

Behind you, a clunky wooden front door heaves open, producing the sweet but hopeless guy who’s been following you around all night. James, you think is his name.

He’s relatively attractive, in a sort of lost puppy way. Big brown eyes and pouty lips, a softness to his tone that could probably buckle knees if he took better advantage of it. Still, he’s thinner and scraggly, and lacks any kind of social quip to make that likely.

He skips down the steps, his dress coat flung dejectedly over his shoulder, and a frown tying his brows together. His friend from earlier is nowhere to be seen.

“Hey,” you say tentatively and his hung head picks up, though his mouth only hardens its angry line. He takes in your unlucky state, and any trace of the puppy-love softness he’d shown you all night is gone.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

You scoff. “Please. He’s not my boyfriend.” His face remains stony and unaffected. “I don’t know what I ever saw in him.”

James reaches his free hand up to push back his hair, and you stare at his tensing arm without really realizing it.

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, hiking his jacket further over his shoulder and walking past you.

In a small window of time, you realize he has keys that he’s fishing out of his slacks pocket—car keys—and your aching feet override your nerves.

“Uh, James?” You both spin towards each other, your back now to the house and his to the cars. You realize that’s probably not the only thing that switched between you tonight. Ironically, you’re the one chasing after him now.

“Yeah,” he says, agitated, when all you do is stare. You look to the empty space where your ride once was, and back to James.

“Could you give me a lift home?”

Something about the way his expression slackens turns your insides out. When was the last time someone looked so disappointed in you? As far as you know, most of the decisions you make go over very well, and no one is ever upset with you (save your sister, who is never happy if she can help it).

But here is James, with eyes holding the most loathing likely ever directed your way, and with every right.

He shakes his head, but says, “Yeah, whatever.”

Somehow that might be worse.

Trailing after him, you come up on his old sedan, a car that seems like it’d have a myriad of mechanical problems. He has to stick his key in the driver’s door to unlock it.

When he gets his door open, he unlocks the rest of them, and you slide awkwardly into the leathery bench beside him. James seems to notice your unfamiliarity and shreds your self esteem further with a scoff.

“It’s not a convertible, I know. Sorry to disappoint.”

“No,” you immediately defend, warm from his apt assessment of you. James gives you a sideways glance of warning. “I mean, yes, I was expecting something else, but it’s—I’m not…”

“It’s fine,” James sighs, turning the car on, “it’s just a lift home. You made it pretty clear that that’s all you want me for.”

As James pulls into the street, you watch the house slip away, party like a fizzling ember fighting the midnight cold.

“That’s not true,” you say, though you’re not sure you feel it at all. Your voice is overly sweet, an attempt at the voice that serves to get you what you want, when you want it.

You’re not entirely sure what you want anymore, but James brushes it off anyway, like it’s a revolting bug.

“Yes, it is.”

It astonishes you how easily he can cut you down. He’s hardly speaking loud enough to be heard above the radio, just a bitter rake of a comment, but you’re floored all the same.

The car falls silent, and you stare at your lap instead of out the window. You feel thoroughly scolded, dissected and left to put yourself back together. You don’t think you’ll cry, but you’re not ruling it out.

When James pulls past a stop sign, approaching your neighborhood, he glances over at you.

“Yknow.” He pauses, licking his lips. “I didn’t even expect you to like me back.” His eyes return to the street “And it’s fine that you don’t, but—but you could’ve just told me.”

You rub your hands over the hem of your dress, a foreign set of nerves gripping your chest. Realistically, you could weather the storm until he drops you off, but for some reason you desperately want to rectify the situation.

You want to tell him that yes, of course you liked him all this time, because that should be true. Except it’s not.

James’ car rolls up to the curb outside your place. He sighs, gripping the steering wheel.

“I really cared about you. I went to that party for you, and I ignored everyone who said I was stupid for doing it.” Shaking his head, James looks at you, anger peeling back to reveal raw hurt. “But you’re so conceited.”

You expel a painful breath, all the wind knocked out of you.

“I know.” Breaking eye contact, you flick your eyes to your shoes. Flattery and shame twine together in your throat. “Did you really go to the party for me?”

James nods.

“Went to the party, got that guy to date your sister,” he lists. “I even learned French for you. And what did it get me? A whole lot of—”

Without really thinking, you surge forward and pull James’ lips onto yours. They lay warm and firm over your mouth, and you can’t deny how right it feels.

You’re expecting James to pull back, to push you away, but he does the opposite. One hand laces into your pristine hair, holding you to him, and the other wraps around your back.

It’s a perfect kiss, the kind that you always dreamed of, and it makes a giddy laugh bubble out of your mouth.

When you pull away, you’re dizzy and a little self-pitying. You could’ve been kissing James like this whole time instead of chasing after some pea-brained asshole in a nice car.

James seems to watch the thought wash over you, because he kisses you one more time to remind you that it doesn’t matter, that you’re here now. Then he lets you go, and you relish in the way his hands linger over your waist, your neck. The giddy feeling comes back twofold.

“Night,” you say through a prim smile. “Thanks for the lift.”

James’ eyes crease a little at the edges from his returning smile. “G’night, beautiful.”

thank you for reading! xx

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pynkhues · 7 months

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I just finished the scripts for Succession S2 and I think some of your tags indicate you have as well. The finale script left me with two questions I thought you might have a view on. 1. Maybe it's me but I read the "summer of competitive eating disorders" line from Connor as non-literal. Like there was that one summer where everyone was messed up about food (and maybe everyone did have eating disorders) but it wasn't a literal competition. Is that a weird read? I keep seeing fics that are taking it literally so I may have misunderstood. 2. What is up with Logan being so possessive of Kendall? It's there in the episodes but the way he talks to Naomi is crazy in the scripts. I don't think Logan's really interacted like that with Tom or Willa or Tabitha - is it because Naomi is a Pierce or is it another one of those weird Kendall and Logan things?

Yeah, I have only recently finished reading the s2 scripts, and I've just started on s3. I've actually been enjoying reading them pretty slowly and percolating on them, but I was even more slowed down the last couple of weeks because my nephews were staying with me for the school holidays. It's meant most of my reading has been with and for them, haha, but I can highly recommend Mike Lowery's Bug Scouts book series for the five year olds in your life!

But yes! To your questions.

The Summer of Competitive Eating Disorders

I don't think that's a weird reading at all.

I think a lot of people have a tendency to view things mentioned on the show as very literal (the dog pound being probably the most obvious example, but also Roman's comments about being molested and all of the Roy siblings' insistence around things they did or didn't know about cruises / the wolf pack [especially after reading the s2 scripts and starting the s3 scripts, I think it's pretty heavily implied that Shiv and Roman ignore the things that they knew while Kendall does know more than them, yet not as much as he thinks. He postures his insider knowledge when his dad kept him more in the dark than he cares to admit, which of course falls apart over the course of s3).

That said, all four kids do have textual issues with food, and way back in 2022, I talked about the way the show utilises food as a symbol for power, particularly in the sense of who has it and who doesn't, which is something I stand by.

In tha sense, I think you're right - there wasn't a literal Summer of Competitive Eating Disorders, but I think the memory of it as one is probably reflective of a period of time where either Logan was particularly neglectful, or particularly present. Something abnormal that triggered a new way of dealing with food - enough for Connor to notice and remember it - and personally I'd kind of read it as the former? This is of course totally a headcanon, haha, but I could see it as the summer after Logan pushed Caroline out and the kids were left with the lingering aftermath of that.

In other words, I agree with you, haha, but I can absolutely see why it captured people's imaginations too.

Logan's possessiveness of Kendall

I actually have another ask in my inbox that I've been circling for ages on this, so I'm going to try and answer that tonight (finally!), but yes, I do think his possessiveness around Kendall is specific even among his children, and I agree that it was definitely even more explicit in the scripts.

It's an interesting sticking point that Naomi is a Pierce, but I honestly don't think that's entirely an issue - if it was Roman, for instance, I think Logan would think it was a great in or a strategic move for him, and he clearly didn't think anything of Connor's friendship and political partnership with Maxim.

Logan's possessive of all of his kids, of course, but it does feel different with Kendall, and I think there are a few reasons for that which I'll talk about in this other answer (and I'll try and link back here so it's easy to find!), but it really does make me so curious about how Logan was with Rava.

Bad, I imagine, especially because I do think the show wants us to view Rava as canonically Jewish.

#succession meta #i'm also feeling very vindicated with my age difference hat on with that clip of harriet walter saying the golden trio #are spread over five or six years #i really do think they're supposed to be pretty close in age which the summer of competitive eating disorders really lends itself to #in my head at least #and so many fics write jeremy and sarah's age gap as kendall and shiv's #which i just flat out don't think makes sense for their dynamic #but that's neither here nor there haha #hbo succession #kendall roy #shiv roy #roman roy #connor roy #roy siblings #welcome to my ama

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catwings-writes-things · 3 months

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Find the Words Tag

I was tagged by @thethistlegirlwrites! Thanks, dear one!

Searching chapter 11 of A World of His Own, or what I have for it at least!

Light:

“Hey, Harriet,” Jon said as he sat up, properly this time. “Thanks for the help.” “You’re welcome,” Harriet chirped, setting a large plastic bag down on the floor by the sofa and untying the handles. “Martin, I didn’t know what sorts of clothes you generally prefer, but I did my best." She retrieved a pair of jeans, a plastic three-pack of white t-shirts, similar packs of socks and underpants, a light green button-up, and pajama trousers made of some light, soft material in a similar shade.

Star:

Hoping it wasn’t a terrible decision, Jon slowly and deliberately lay back down against Martin’s side, grabbed Martin’s arm and returned it to its previous position around his person, and snuggled in as close to Martin as he could possibly get. Martin’s arm around him tightened in a half-hug, and he tilted his head to rest it on Jon’s, even though it had to be putting his neck at a somewhat awkward angle. “Stars, that's adorable,” declared Harriet’s voice from the gust of wind sweeping through the living room.

Touch and Water:

When he was met with only more awful silence, Jon took a deep breath, removed his nightshirt, grabbed the damp towel he'd used to dry off, and stood. "Martin, I'm coming in, if that's all right." When he didn't hear an objection, Jon pulled back the curtain and stepped into the shower. Immediately, he hissed in pain. The water was hot, hotter than could possibly have been comfortable even in cold weather, let alone on a relatively warm day like today. Jon adjusted the temperature until it was still hot but no longer painful, then let himself properly look at Martin. Martin was standing unnervingly still, skin an angry deep pink where the water touched it, staring straight ahead with a blank expression.

Tagging @hauntedsuns, @emthetimelady, @runarelle, @dragonsthough101, and anyone else who sees this and wants to play! Your words are "think," "hurt," "warm," and "luck" or "lucky"!

#tag game #wip tag game #fic: a world of his own #AWOHO ch. 11 #wip word search #jailbreak jon and martin #jailbreak harriet #dissociation cw

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mazegays · 2 months

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could've followed my fears all the way down

please do enjoy this sunday offering of angst : ). i've played with this one a bit since i originally wrote it and personally i think it has a lot of great lines. let me know what you think!

Chapter 21

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 22

Harriet falls to her knees at the edge of the ditch, the shock of the impact zinging through her body and pulling something in her lungs taut. She has to force herself to close her eyes so that she can take a breath.

He’s on his side, wood tied to his chest.

He’s even still got his bag; if she didn’t know what she was looking for, she wouldn’t have been able to find it.

He—the body—he’s covered in mud, and dirt, and she can’t tell what’s wrong with him. She needs to get someone, needs to move, but she can’t make herself stand up,

One of his arms—oh, that looks bad. His legs look okay, just positioned oddly. He doesn’t have shoes on. How could he have lost them? What happened? Did they wear out that quickly? His feet will be a mess of cuts, for sure. And if they’re infected… what if they have to remove them? Maybe Gally will be able to build him something…

Harriet shakes herself. She can’t afford to get distracted now. She doesn’t even know… she can’t tell, not while she’s still so far away.

She can’t tell if he’s alive, or if she’s just found his body.

How long has he been here? How close were they to finding him?

If they’d spent just one more day looking, would have they found him in time?

His eyes are open, just halfway, and Harriet unfreezes. She moves as quickly as she can down the side of the ditch without tripping herself, and taps his face lightly.

It’s red, swollen; his lips are dry and cracking.

She doesn’t know what that means. Dehydration, but that’s a given. She’d be more surprised if he wasn’t dehydrated. She has to find a way to get her fingers under the wood on his chest to get to his neck.

She can’t tell if he’s dead or not. Her heart is racing in her ears, all the way down to her fingertips; she can’t get a pulse.

“Thomas, can you look at me? Can you hear me? Thomas, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay. I promise. I’ll get you back.”

Harriet’s strong, but she doesn’t think she should be able to carry Thomas.

He’s lost weight, again, that much is obvious—he’s been out here for a while without food. She doesn’t let herself think about how long it’s been. Too long, probably.

And he was right here… he was so close.

His arm is definitely broken. There’s not a lot she can do out here, but she makes a sling out of her shirt to keep it from getting worse while she carries him.

She’s not sure it even matters, but it makes her feel better, at least. If he is still alive, somehow, she’s helped. She’s helping.

So she keeps talking to him, narrating what she’s doing like it matters. Like he can hear her.

“Thomas, I’m going to carry you, okay? We’re not far, you almost made it by yourself.” It’s easier if she pretends he can. Anya can tell her later, but for now, she’s pretending. Pretending that it’s possible for him to be alive, and here, and that she’s just saved him.

“We’ll take care of it, Thomas, I promise. It won’t hurt like this for much longer.” Carrying him is awkward, but she manages to keep his broken arm against his chest.

He’s just too tall for her to be able to support his head at this angle, but she can’t worry about that too much right now.

Anya will know what to do.

She has to know what to do.

They can’t lose Thomas twice.

They can’t.

And if Anya tells her that she’s just found his body, at least she’s brought him back.

They won’t have to leave another friend unburied, with no idea where the body ended up. He won’t be eaten and picked apart by scavengers until only his bones are left.

Harriet can’t do much else now, not if he’s really gone, but she can run, and she can hope.

It’s that hope, faint as it is, that keeps her legs from giving out under her as she tears back out of the woods, directly to the medical cabin.

finish on ao3 or continue reading

Sonya knows something’s up when Harriet doesn’t visit the greenhouse after her morning run. It’s become part of their routine. Harriet runs in the woods, and Sonya pretends she’s working instead of just wishing that she could have another dirt fight with Thomas or something similarly unproductive.

Maybe Harriet tripped on a root or something, and had to go wrap her ankle. Or she could have decided to go on a longer run today. The change in routine itches at her a little; not as much as it would have back in the Glen, she’s more used to changes happening day-to-day now, but it still doesn’t feel right.

Sonya makes herself wait a while before she goes down to the medical cabin, to make sure that Harriet’s really not coming.

Then she can’t get into the medical cabin, and she knows something is really wrong. Had Harriet broken a bone? Someone should have come to get her. Unless there was no one to come and get her.

She’d be allowed in, though. She would be allowed in if it was just a broken bone, as long as it wasn’t, like, poking through the skin.

Why else would Harriet and Anya be locked in the medical cabin for? The kitchens and the greenhouse are the most injury-prone spots, and she already knows that no one in the greenhouse got hurt.

Had Harriet found—

No. She couldn’t have. There’s no way.

Sonya doesn’t let herself think about it. It’s not possible.

Minho’s by Thomas’s tree. Gally’s in the kitchen with Frypan, and Aris, Rosa, and Frankie are working somewhere. Even Jorge is out working this morning.

From what she can see, everyone is where they’re supposed to be. She can’t see everything, not as easily as she could have in the Glen, but she can see enough.

Everyone is working—or playing, in the case of some of the kids—and no one is hurt. They’re all where they’re supposed to be.

Everyone but Harriet and Anya. Well, and herself, since she’s not in the greenhouse.

Harriet might have gotten hurt, or found an injured animal. She didn’t find— she couldn’t have found him.

Thomas can’t have been that close all this time.

His body can’t have been that close the entire time.

Because that means they almost found him. It means that if they had just looked a little harder, they would have been able to save him.

Feeling lost, she sinks down next to Minho and lets him tell her facts about spruce trees.

She’s heard them all from Thomas before, but she thinks she could stand to hear them a few more times.

Minho doesn’t watch as Harriet carries Thomas’s a body into the medical cabin. He can’t.

Gally doesn’t know yet. He’d be rushing over here if he did. Shuck, not even Minho knows yet, not really. He just knows that Harriet was carrying something and rushing. It doesn’t mean she’s found a body. It could be an injured animal.

It’s probably an injured animal.

If it’s Thomas, then Minho’s not going to be the one to tell Gally. Minho hadn’t even been able to tell him the first time around, that they hadn’t found him.

When Sonya sits next to him, he tells her the facts he can remember, the ones he’s been repeating to himself for days like they’ll bring Thomas back.

Nothing will bring Thomas back, not even his body.

Maybe they’ll bury him under this tree, and then Minho can recite Thomas’s spruce facts back to him, over and over again until the roots and trunk have grown their way around him.

Sonya listens, but she’s watching the door.

“Harriet’s okay.” He tells her, realizing she didn’t see what Harriet had been carrying. “She found Thomas’s body.” He hadn’t meant to say that. He doesn’t know that Harriet found Thomas’s body. She found something, but that doesn’t mean it’s Thomas.

“No, she couldn’t have— she doesn’t go that far, he can’t have been that close for all this time. Why didn’t we find him?”

“I don’t know.” If he were less numb, Minho knows he’d be freaking out the way she is.

But he hasn’t felt much of anything since he realized they were never going to find Thomas alive.

“I just want him back.” He whispers, interrupting her. “The tree facts, they’re all from Thomas, and I don’t even remember most of them. I just— I want him back. I want him to tell us this is a stupid place for a tree, especially one that will get as big as a spruce. I want to watch his face when he’s thinking and try to figure it out. I want him to know how much I love him. He didn’t know, Sonya. I never got that chance.”

“Minho, I don’t think he’s dead.” Sonya’s still watching the door. “I don’t think she found a body.”

“What else could she have found, Sonya? He’s dead. It’s…” There are countless reasons.

It’s been too long. He would have run out of food days ago. Probably before they even started looking for him, from what Sonya and Aris have said about how much food he had. The wind storm could have caused him any number of injuries, he might have been crushed by a tree and actually died under it, because Minho wasn’t fast enough to save him.

He wasn’t fast enough to find him in time. He should have gone ahead sooner, and maybe then he would have found Thomas before the worst could happen. If they ever find him now, it will only be his body.

Minho doesn’t know if he’d rather never see Thomas’s face ever again, or be able to bury him properly.

“I think she found Thomas.” Sonya’s still insisting, but Minho can’t let himself believe it. He can’t think he has Thomas back again, only to find out he’s wrong.

He’s the one who wasn’t there in time. Thomas had always been there to save him, to make sure he was safe.

But Minho hadn’t been… he just…

He wasn’t good enough. Not this time. Not when it mattered.

Is this how Thomas felt all the time? That he wasn’t enough?

Minho should have told him earlier.

Should have said something one of those nights where they curled into each other to chase away nightmares, told him ‘I love you.’ and asked if he could kiss him.

He’ll never know what that’s like, now.

He and Gally have moved in together, but it’s not the same. They don’t love each other the way they love Thomas, not yet. They’ve been too distant for that.

He wants to.

He wants to have them both, but Thomas is dead, and now he won’t have either of them.

“No, Minho, why would they still be in there if Thomas is dead?” Sonya insists. He tunes her out.

Thomas is dead. He’s accepted that.

(He hasn’t.)

So why is he hoping for more now?

Making this applesauce, something Thomas would have loved— once he’d made the strawberry jam, it’d been his favorite food to eat. He hadn’t shut up about it.

So why now? Why would Frypan have him make this now?

He can barely see Thomas’s tree from this angle; he knows Minho’s sitting under it.

He hardly goes anywhere else these days.

Sometimes, Gally wants to join him.

Usually, he’s too afraid he’ll say or do something he’ll regret. Things have been weird between them.

Worse than before, even though he moved into Minho’s cabin because it’s closer and easier to manage with his leg.

They don’t have Thomas tying them together now, not in the same way he was before. Gally’s not quite sure what to do with that.

So he draws on his anger the way he always used to in the Glade, because it’s easier than having to deal with the sadness and the worry and the numbness that threatens to creep in and weave ivy walls over his heart and mind.

“Fry, what are we going to do with this? How long will it keep for?” Smashing the strawberries up has been vaguely therapeutic, and as much as he hates the thought of making something Thomas would love that he can’t eat, it’s still been… kind of fun.

“Well, it’s only one batch, so it should go pretty quickly.” Frypan seems tense. Like something’s wrong.

Gally can’t see anything wrong, but he knows Thomas was put at this station because it’s pretty hard to see everything.

What does Frypan know?

Why is he not saying anything about it?

Or maybe it’s just that he’s remembering Thomas, too. Whenever they lost someone, Frypan would do this. He’d be tense for a few days, throw himself into cooking and baking almost aggressively, and it’s nothing new.

But Gally desperately wants for there to be another reason for Fry to be tense.

“What’s going on, Fry?” He can’t leave the applesauce, it’ll burn, but he wants to know.

“I don’t know, Gally. I just saw Harriet running back, is all. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Running back…

Running back from the woods.

Fuck.

She’s found Thomas’s body.

“I want to see him.” He says, moving faster than he thought he could.

“Gally, don’t— ” Frypan takes his spoon and tosses it to one of the other cooks. “If you’re going, you can’t go alone. Your leg is still bad.”

“Mina, you’re in charge. Please make sure nothing burns.”

“Got it, boss.” Frypan takes one of Gally’s arms around his shoulders— it’s faster than the crutches he hasn’t quite gotten the hang of yet.

He can use them fine in the cabin, but he still has a difficult time on the grass.

They go to Thomas’s tree. Sonya, who usually avoids it, is sitting pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Minho.

Gally sits on Minho’s other side, but not quite as close.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Frypan asks. “I saw Harriet run by, but I wasn’t sure.”

“That’s why you wanted me to make strawberry applesauce. You thought— ” Gally cuts himself off.

Does Frypan think Thomas is alive?

“Would they have been in there this long if he wasn’t?” Sonya counters, softly. She sounds tired. Like they’ve been doing this over and over.

They probably have.

“He’s dead, Sonya. It’s been too long.” Minho sounds tired, like he doesn’t want to hold onto any hope that Thomas is alive, that Harriet found him after all this time.

It’s only been a week and a half since they planted the tree, but it feels like a lot longer.

Most things feel like that. Gally feels like it’s been ten years and also no time at all since they escaped the Glade, since he joined the Right Arm, since they got here.

“She wouldn’t have been running like that if he were dead.” Frypan says. “She was moving pretty quickly. Why would she do that if there was no hope?”

“To keep us from seeing? Because it wasn’t him?”

“No one else has gone missing.”

“Could be an animal.” Gally hears himself say.

He wants to believe it’s Thomas, but— he can’t. He can’t do that to himself. Because if he believes it’s Thomas, lets himself have that, and then it’s not Thomas, it will shatter him.

Minho’s doing the same thing, he realizes.

To protect himself.

Sonya and Frypan were his close friends, but they didn’t know Thomas the way Gally and Minho did.

They weren’t in love with him.

If it is Thomas, Gally’s never letting him go anywhere alone again.

Not in the near future, anyway. And by near future, he means in the next ten years.

(He’s still clinging to the faintest thread of hope that it is Thomas, that he’s alive, that he’s safe.

That he’s here.

Somehow.

He knows the truth is probably that Harriet was moving quickly to conceal the body from them, at least until she and Anya could clean it up a little, but Gally can’t force himself to squash that little bit of hope.

It’s going to be what destroys him, in the end.)

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