dumpster fire.

she’d help him with the midnight dishes, and he’d rub at her strained muscles caused by the day’s work. every midnight, like clockwork, she’d find him, sneak past abi and emma, no questions asked; olivia will seek him out and bask in his attention, no matter how awkward and winded. it was good, they were good, this summer is good—was good. and now it is ending and, with that, their small hour meetings become less frequent, but longer. more hidden.

she wonders if one more night could save them, save her heart from breaking.

( the answer, unfortunately, is no. )

ULRICH, THE WARLOCK OF HAMELIN. NATURE’S ABOMINATION. THE SON OF THE PIPER.

—up in flames, cannot be saved.

—THE WAYHAVEN CHRONICLES: DETECTIVE ISOBEL ROSS.

“I really thought coming here would do me some good, y’know? I’d set myself straight, get a lil’ bit of fresh air, drink by the riverside. But—this place, this, this fucking County, God. 

Next thing you know, you’re trying to scrub your hands clean for hours and, even after all that, you’d still feel the guts and the blood slick on your fingers as you run through the Mountains, firing back without even looking, without even caring. Kill or be killed. And—when all of that was said and done, after countless people lost their lives and their homes and their loved ones? 

Boom. 

Fuck, I still recall the first bomb going off. Blinding. Ringing. 

The ones who still had something precious to them after the Holy War saw its end lost everything in an instant. Me? I was unfortunate enough to have the absolute fucking pleasure of being stripped of everything I held dear. Bit by bit. I saw some of my friends burning in hellfire, and then I—I had to watch as my husband faded into nothingness, slowly and painfully and, afterwards, I lost myself. I know I did, and, frankly, I don’t care.

This world is rotten, kid. Don’t hold out too much hope. We’re all doomed anyway.”