#points to toast* look how horribly off balance you are

[intotheelliwoods]

toast looks like his tail would fall off and regrow like a gecko

D: !!!!!!!!!!!!

[whadd-up-babie]

✨🥺🥰 Sykkunos Sister 🥰🥺✨

Part One

Author's Note: Fuck time lines. I don't care if time lines don't add up. I mean on any other occasion I would care but right now at this exact moment in time, I couldn't fucking care less.

Word-count: 4k

Warnings: idk

~~~

You walked into your new apartment, your two roommates and life long friends by your side.

You smiled and turned to the two, “You see this ladies?” You said with a satisfied smirk on your face, “All of our hard work finally paid off.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually here.” Addie said with stars in her eyes. “A couple of years late maybe, but still here in L.A”

You chuckled “I can't believe we wanted to move here as soon as we got out of highschool.”

“Yeah imagine how horrible that could've gone?” Your other friend Selena spoke up.

You visibly shuddered at the thought of how bad that could've been. You felt a buzz in your back pocket and looked down at your jeans.

“Me and Selena are gonna check out this place before we start bringing the boxes in.” Addie told you as her and Selena walked off.

You nodded your head as you pulled out your phone from your jeans. It was a text message from one of your brothers' roommates.

Toast Are you in L.A yet?

You Yeah, I just walked into my new apartment

You quickly typed out and hit send. You’ve been in contact with your brothers’ friends for a while now. You haven’t seen Thomas, or Sykkuno, in years and you wanted to surprise him during one of his streams.

He was streaming Proximity Chat Among Us with; Toast, Lily, Poki, Rae, Ludwig, Dream, Brooke, Jacksepticeye and Corpse. You were a fan of all of them.

You lived a couple blocks away from your brother and his friends which was very convenient for you, considering as the younger of the both of you it is your duty to be the most annoying human being possible. So random pop ups at his home would be much much easier.

Toast I told the lobby that I ordered delivery so they expect an interruption

You Ooooh big brain moment

Toast But I did actually order pizza, it’s pick-up so can you do me a favor and pick it up on your way

You I revoke my “big brain moment”

Toast sent you the address for the pizza parlor and the OfflineTV house.

“I’m gonna go surprise Thomas.” You called out into your apartment, “I promise I'll be back to help unload the stuff.”

“You better, considering you're the strongest one here.” Selena responded.

You chuckled and walked out of the door and into the hallway that led to the exit of your new home.

Your apartment only had two floors, you were lucky enough to score the bottom floor. It was two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The three of you slept in the smaller guest room. You had bought two bunk beds from Ikea that you planned on placing in that room.

In the master room was where everything Important was. Selena wanted to be a streamer, so her gaming set-up was in that room. Selena wasn't one of those well known streamers but she had a following. Addie wanted to be a model, so the majority of her clothes were in the master bedroom closet, whilst you and Selena shared the smaller closest in your shared room.

You on the other hand wanted to make music. All of your instruments were in the master bedroom. You owned an electric keyboard, a guitar, a bass guitar, a cello, and you just started learning how to play the ukulele.

The room set up plan was simple. You had two desks on opposite sides of the room. Selena would get the wall with the window if she ever planned on using more natural light. Selena's desk would hold her gaming set-up, she currently had two monitors, but she's saving up to buy a third.

Your desk had the latest IMac, it was a moving away gift from your family, everyone pitched in. You had an inexpensive but high quality microphone to record vocals.

In between the two desks you had a futon and coffee table gifted to you guys by Addie's grandma. Noise cancellation foam pads would coat the walls.

But you haven’t done any of that stuff yet considering everything was still in the U-Haul truck.

You walked out of the apartment whilst typing the address to your brothers home in your Waze app, you added the pizza parlor in as a stop.

You got into your SUV and started the car. You connected your phone to the bluetooth and shuffled one of your Spotify playlist.

White Tee by CORPSE began to blast through your speakers. You bopped to the rhythm and began to lip sync the lyrics.

~~~

It took you 30 minutes to collect the pizza and drive to your brothers house. You stood outside the door with the pizza balanced in your hand as you attempted to ring the doorbell.

You texted Toast beforehand so you hoped he was prepared and wouldn’t make you wait outside. You didn’t like being outside, it meant that people could see you. And you didn’t like that.

You stood outside for a couple of seconds before Toast finally opened the door.

“Finally!” You exclaimed as you pushed past him to enter his home.

“Welcome.” He said sarcastically.

“Where’s my brother's room!?” You asked excitedly.

Toast pointed you towards the direction of Sykkunos’ room and you went running.

You stood outside of his door all giddy and happy, apparently they were playing proximity chat among us. So if Sykkuno was next to anyone in- game they would surely hear you, as well as the rest of the offlinetv house.

You took a deep breath and shouldered the door open.

“I’VE GOT A PIZZA DELIVERY FOR THE BESTEST BIG BROTHER IN THE ENTIRETY OF THE WORLD!” You all but shouted, scaring him off of his chair.

He turned to look at you and his face of fear quickly morphed into one of pure happiness.

“I call him Thomas but apparently his stage name is Sykkuno. I wonder where he got that from.” You said, this time more calmly.

“Y/N!” Sykkuno said happily. He quickly got himself off the floor and tackled you in a hug.

“You know I would hug you back but like… I’m holding a pretty big pizza.” You told him. The smile on your face was so big it began to hurt your cheeks.

Sykkuno brought his hands to your shoulder and held you at arm's length. He looked you up and down.

“You’ve really grown.” He told you.

“Yeah.” You agreed, nodding your head, “You still look like a ten year old.” You said jokingly.

You laughed and he joined in. You placed the pizza down, and he led you towards his set up.

“We’re gonna need another chair.” He said looking around.

“No we don’t,” You said plopping down into his chair.

He gave you a weird look.

“I’m the guest.” You said waving your hand.

He didn’t say anything, he just looked you dead in the eyes. Right into your soul.

You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“I don’t like it when you do that.” You said as you stood from his chair.

“I only ever do it to you.” He said as he walked by you to reclaim his chair.

“That’s why I don’t like it.” You grumbled.

A couple of minutes later you got your own chair, they were even nice enough to give you a water bottle. You sat next to Sykkuno with one of his earbuds in your ear so you could hear what was happening in his game.

So far you’ve run into Rae, Poki, Toast and Lily and you told all of them about your relation to Sykkuno though Toast and Lily already knew.

Sykkuno passed by Jack and you were about to scream in the mic, but someone reported a body.

“Well now I’m disappointed.” You mumbled to yourself.

“The body was i-“

“What! Toast is dead!” You said shocked, “We were just with him.”

There was a moment of silence within the game.

“Who’s that?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” The other players muttered in agreement.

“That’s my sister, Y/N.” Sykkuno said.

A gasp could be heard from almost everyone

“Sister!” Ludwig shouted over the gasps, “Sykkuno you didn’t tell me you had a sister. I thought we were best friends.”

“I’m not really his sister.” You told them.

“Yeah she’s my foster sister.” Sykkuno explained.

“When I was younger Sykkunos' family was my foster family, until I was adopted by a lovely couple in Chicago.” You said.

“We haven’t seen each other since her adoption.” Sykkuno continued.

“And that was. What? 10-ish years ago?” You finished turning to Sykkuno.

“Yeah around that time.” He answered.

You brought your water bottle up to your lips and began to drink.

“Well it’s great to meet you Y/N!” Brooke said excitingly.

A chorus of “nice to meet you” entered your ear, but a very distinct “what up baby” caused you to spit your water back into its bottle.

“What’s wrong?” Sykkuno asked as he looked towards you.

“That did something to my stomach.” Was all you said.

“The water?” Sykkuno questioned further.

You felt your face heat up.

“Yeah.” You said nodding your head. “It’s totally the water. It couldn’t possibly be for any other reason.” You said bring your hand up to hide your smirk with your knuckles.

You turned your head and saw the chat exploding with the word SIMP in all caps.

~~~

You were at Sykkunos house a couple of days after that incident. He was streaming Proximity Chat Among Us with the same lobby again. They were playing in Polus.

Corpse was telling the lobby about his day when you thought to yourself, “I wanna wake up to the sound of your voice.”

You scrunched up your eyebrows wondering why it got quiet all of a sudden before Sykkuno bursted into fits of laughter as well as the rest of the lobby.

It finally dawned on you that you said that out loud. Your eyes widened and your face began to heat up.

“That sounded so suggestive, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I was speaking out loud.” You began to laugh with the rest of the group and Corpse joined in quickly after.

The game started and you were all calmed down.

“I still can’t believe I said that out loud.” You announced to the group. A few giggles left their mouths as well as your own.

“No but just imagine waking up at 7 am to Choke me like you hate me but you love me! Every single fucking day.” You said before bursting into laughter, the lobby joining in soon after.

Sykkuno was doing his tasks in O2 before he announced to his stream he had to use the bathroom.

“I’ll watch the game for you but I won’t play because… I don’t want to.” You told him as he muted his discord and got up from his chair.

“That’s fine.” He said and left the room.

You turned to his chat. They started bombarding you with questions.

“What’s your Instagram.” You read aloud.

“Oooh shameless plug, follow me on all of my socials @y/n, also subscribe to my YouTube channel “Y/N L/N” I make music…sometimes.” You answered.

“Do you simp for Corpse.” You read another.

You pursed your lips. “I’m not gonna answer that question, but I will confidently admit that I simp for Rae and Poki.” As you finished that statement, Corpses avatar walked into the room.

You reached over to Sykkunos Keyboard and un-muted his mic.

“Hey Corpse!” You chirped.

“Hey Y/N.” He replied. “Where’s Sykkuno?” He asked you.

“What, am I not good enough?” You asked with mock offense

He chuckled before speaking up. “No, I was just wondering.”

“He’s in the bathroom.” You answered. “I’m all by my little old self. Minus the stream of course.” You turned to smile at Sykkunos camera before focusing your attention on the game.

“Would you like some company?” He asked.

“I would love some company, thank you Corpse.”

He brought his Avatar to stand by Sykkunos.

“How’s your day?” He asked.

“Not very fun.” You answered thinking back to what happened this morning. “We were finishing building the second bunk bed, but I dropped one of the heavier parts on my foot, so that hurts.”

“Oh that sucks.” He stated.

“I know. How’s your day?” You asked him.

“Very uneventful, just writing some potential lyrics and stuff.” He said.

“Oh yeah you write your own music.” You responded. “How did I forget that.” You mumbled to yourself.

“What do you like to do for fun?” He questioned.

“Oh I make music, or do covers. Depends on how lazy I’m feeling.” You told him.

“You make music?” He asked. You could hear the shock in his voice.

You hummed in response. “Yeah I dabble in music production. I write a nice chunk of the music, but I have some other musical friends help me with other stuff. It’s not enough for me to be noticed by the big producers or record labels though.”

“You think you could show me some of your stuff?”

“Yeah!” You said excitedly. “Do you want me to send it through Discord, Insta or Twitter.” You said as you fished your phone out of your back pocket.

“Do discord.” He told you.

“Got it.” You pulled up your discord app as Sykkuno got back from the bathroom.

You already friended the lobby Sykkuno was playing in after your first meeting.

Sykkuno got back in his chair. “Alright I’m back.”

“I unmuted your mic by the way.” You told Sykkuno, your eyes glued to your phone. You had to send Corpse the perfect snippet. So far all your options were shit.

“Oh hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno said once he got situated.

“Hi Sykkuno.” Corpse replied, “I was just talking to Y/N, she’s great company.” He complimented you.

“I am good company,” You said looking up from your phone, “I wish my roommates thought that.” You muttered to yourself, apparently louder than you thought because Corpse began to chuckle.

You smirked slightly. The sound of Corpses’ laugh caused a blush to spread to your cheeks.

“Shouldn’t you two finish your tasks.” You coughed up, trying to hide your blush. “I mean you’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Does anyone ever do their tasks when they play proximity?” Sykkuno asked.

“Exactly.” Corpse agreed.

“I’m a very work oriented person so I probably would.” You told them. You finally found the perfect audio file to send Corpse.

“I hope he likes it.” You thought to yourself. You sent Corpse the file the same time a body was reported.

“I found Luds’ body in decontamination.” Rae said.

“Sykkuno and Corpse did nothing in o2 practically the whole round.” You told the lobby. The lobby has gotten used to you speaking up while they played.

“I was keeping a new friend company that's not exactly nothing.” Corpse said, trying to defend himself.

“It meant nothing to me.” You said, you were quiet for a few seconds before you spoke up again, “I’m sorry! That was mean! I didn’t mean it! Thank you for disregarding your tasks just to keep me company!”

The lobby broke out into laughter while you continued spewing out apologies.

~~~

The game ended quickly, turns out Poki and Rae were the imposters. You decided then to make your departure.

“I should probably head home.” You told the lobby, “The only food the girls know how to cook is pizza rolls, pizza bagels and ramen. And we promised each other we would start eating healthy.” You got up from your chair as the lobby was saying their goodbyes.

You exited Sykkunos room and walked towards the exit. You ran into Michael and Lily and said goodbye to them on your way out.

You reached your car and pulled out your phone, checking for notifications. You usually stay off your phone whenever you watch your brothers’ stream so you never know what's happening.

It turns out you had 10 missed calls from Selena, and over 100+ messages of her asking you to answer the phone.

You quickly got into your car and called your roommate.

The phone only rang twice before she answered.

“YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT I JUST DID FOR YOU!” She screamed into the phone.

You brought your hand away from your ear and cringed at how loud she was being.

“That’s fun.” You muttered to yourself. You put your phone down in one of the cup holders and put it on speaker.

“What did you do exactly.” You asked aloud as you put your key into the ignition.

“So you remember that cute guy we ran into-” She began but you interrupted.

“NO!” You shouted. “I am not in the mood to go on dates. We are here in L.A to focus on our careers. I don’t have time for dating.”

Selena was quiet for a few moments before she spoke up.

“Okay, but if you meet him and start catching feelings but it's too late, just know it's not my fault.” She said before she hung up.

You sighed to yourself. You were not ready to go out on dates. Especially not after your last relationship.

You drove in silence for the majority of the way home until you got a discord notification on your phone. You waited until you reached a stop light to look at it. Apparently it was from Corpse.

CORPSE I loved the vocals I honestly wasn't expecting this type of music from you

You quickly typed out a reply while still paying attention to the road ahead of you.

You Thanks! I just thought you would like that type of sound so I decided to send that one

You hit send right as the lights turns green. You placed your phone back into the cupholder and began to drive. You got another discord notification, you assumed it was Corpse.

“He can wait 5 minutes.” You thought to yourself. Corpse may have peaked your interests but that doesn't mean you were willing to get into a car crash for him.

You quickly pulled into your apartment complex and ran into your home, phone in hand. You had gotten 3 discord notifications whilst you were driving. You quickly sat down on your couch in the living room and propped your feet onto the coffee table.

CORPSE I like how this is mixed and produced You have a great tone throughout the song Would you want to collab sometime?

You felt your heart leap into your throat.

“This couldn't possibly be happening.” You thought to yourself.

Corpse was very relevant in the music industry, he had told you during one of the Among Us games that many labels were reaching out to him. This collaboration with Corpse could make you a star!

You A collab with one of the most trending people in the world? Count me in!

CORPSE Great! we can meet up whenever you want to work out some lyrics

You smiled to yourself thinking of how many doors this could open for you. This could make or break your career.

“Holy shit.” You mumbled under your breath.

“Me and Corpse are making a song together!” You thought to yourself.

“What kind of Wattpad fanfic is this?” You said out loud as Selena and Addie came out of the Master Bedroom.

“Oooh what about Wattpad fanfics?” Selena asked, as she headed towards the kitchen.

“My life is a Wattpad fanfic.” You told her. You furrowed your eyebrows in thought, “Is this my existential crisis?”

“What?” Addie asked, very confused as she sat down on the arm of the sofa.

“What am I rambling about.” You turned to your roommates. “You’ll never believe what I just scored.” You told them excitedly.

“What?” Selena asked as she exited the kitchen a bag of chips in her hands.

“I’m going to do a collaboration with Mr. Corpse Husband himself.” You said proudly.

“No way!” Selena shouted, dropping her bag of chips on the floor. “You lucky bitch.” She said.

“You guys have only known one another for like 3 days.” Addie said.

“We’re making a song, not getting married.” You told her.

“Yet.” Selena said with a smirk.

“I’m going to bed.” You told them as you stood up from the couch.

“What!?” They said in unison.

“But it’s like 8 o'clock.” Addie finished.

“I know but I’m not in the mood to put up with the both of you.” You said as you left the living room.

“I only said one thing!” Selena complained.

“One too much.” You told her.

You walked down the hall and entered your shared room. You sat down at the foot of your bed and sighed.

“This is not at all what I expected when I told mom I was moving to Cali.” You threw yourself backwards.

“How are we gonna go about this?” You asked yourself. Were you and corpse gonna work together in person, were you gonna work over a discord call? You haven’t seen his face, you’re not sure if he’s seen yours yet. All these thoughts came and went inside your brain, it was starting to give you a headache.

You grabbed your pillow and brought it down on your face. You made a noise somewhere in between a groan and a whine when you heard you got another discord notification from your phone.

You reached around for your phone until you finally grabbed it and brought it up to your face. It was another message from Corpse.

CORPSE For making the song I was thinking maybe you could come over to my apartment because I remember how you once told the lobby that your roommates are very loud

YOU They are very loud And thank you for the invitation, I was just starting to wonder how we were gonna work together

CORPSE Here’s my address and number Wanna meet up on Sunday 3 o’clock?

“Sunday, Sunday, Sunday.” You thought to yourself, You’re pretty sure you don't have any plans that day. You typed out a quick reply before turning off your phone and going to sleep.

~~~

It was Sunday 12 o’clock you left your house with a nice hot cup of joe in your hands. Corpse lived 2 hours away so you wanted to leave early to hopefully grab some breakfast.

The night prior you placed your guitar in the back of your car, knowing you wouldn't remember to do it the morning of.

You got into your car and pulled out of your apartment complex. It was a long drive filled with random songs. You pulled into the first McDonalds you saw and ordered your usual.

When you were back on the road you had about 30 minutes before you would arrive at Corpse’s house. Which meant, using the power of mental math, you would get there 30 minutes early.

You grabbed your phone out of your bag keeping your eyes on the road. You opened up your contact list and scrolled through looking for Corpse. You found his name and gave him a call. You put your phone on speaker and put it into your cup holder. The phone rang about eight times before he answered.

“Hello.” He answered, his voice was deeper than usual.

“Did you just wake up?” You asked as you turned off the highway.

“Yeah, I got a good… 35 minutes.” He told you with a chuckle.

“Make yourself some breakfast. I should be there in about 30 minutes.” You told him with a smirk.

“Yes ma’am” He told you before he hung up.

“This is gonna be a long day.” You muttered to yourself.

~~~

Sykkunos Sisters Master list

Story Snippets/Master list

Taglist:

I couldn’t tag some people, if you are one of those people message me so we can hopefully tag you successfully. If you want to switch lists just ask :)

All Corpse fics:

@carlosoliveriaownsmyass, @cookiewhoree, @zunmie, @phriendophphrogs,  @i-love-stamps-blog, @cupidsloverr, @cassie12435, @fivedicksinatrenchcoat, @mythicalamphitrite, @wiseflamingoqueen, @cherry-piee, @mono-has-a-gun, @ilovepizzaandimhot, @rambling-rabbit, @thecanterburywitch, @daisiesandmarvel, @brooklyn22, @and-claudia, @captainbuckyy

Sykkunos Sisters:

@punnypuppylove, @emsies-dream, @bbecc-a, @soft4kei, @penflop

[writesowhatnext]

submerse myself in brie // fred weasley

Summary: Bill & Fleur’s wedding is quite the event… too bad about those wedding crashers. Anyway, what wedding is complete without awkwardness at the buffet table?

Request: Are you taking requests? If you are could I ask for another Fred Weasley? Maybe something where they’re fighting together (bills wedding or battle of Hogwarts maybe?) and the reader rescues him in some way but gets injured herself but not fatally because I can’t deal with too much angst 🙈 hope that’s not too specific... also just wanted to say I love your writing it’s amazing 💕💕

A/N: thank you!!!! Terribly sorry for how long this took holy cow but I hope this is alright love I loved the request and that is why this is so long also I wasn’t quite sure how to split up the flashbacks so like we’ll see how this goes

Reader: female

Warnings: injury, battle, suggestive, couple stuff, alcohol, suggestive, implied sex

A groan peeled open your lips before you could even think about opening your eyes. You couldn’t really focus on anything, though, not when everything just ached, not with your head pounding and your ears ringing. People’s feet blurred past you, rushing and falling with flashes of light. You frowned. Blades of wet grass pressed against your cheek. The smell invaded your senses.

__

Fred groaned like a child at Molly’s pestering, the vibrations echoing down your spine. You rolled your eyes, pressing your back further into his chest in response.

“When I get married,” he said, turning to face George with a grimace. “I won’t be bothering with any of this nonsense. You can all wear what you like, and I’ll put a full-body-bind curse on Mum until it’s all over.”

Molly tutted at her son, ignoring him for the most part as she scurried away to fix something else that didn’t really need fixing.

“Oh, really, mate?” George said, drinking his tea.

You were happy to see him up and around; you remembered how scared Fred had been after the incident on the broomsticks. The bandage around George’s head still looked particularly grizzly, but you were glad he was feeling better.

“Does Y/N have anything to say about that?” he said cheekily, hiding his face in his mug as he watched you with playful eyes.

“Why would I?” you asked, pulling away from Fred to grab a piece of toast off the table. “It’s not like my standards are low enough to marry this git.”

“Oi!” Fred huffed.

You tried to move out of his reach before he grabbed you, or worse, tickled you, but you weren’t fast enough and you squealed as he clapped his hand on your arse.

“Cheeky,” Fred said, pointing at your accusatorily as you glared back, pulling your dress straight with your toast balanced in your mouth.

“Might have to teach my wife a lesson,” he teased, shooting you a wink. As you moved to sit by George on the kitchen counter, you mimicked Fred, ignoring the backflips of your stomach at his words.

__

Your stomach flopped again as you rolled over, the wet grass splaying over your face, no doubt covering your cheeks in mud. There was a sharp pain at your side and a nagging in your head as you tried to remember what exactly was happening. Where you were. Where the bloody hell Fred was. Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, every breath felt like daggers in your side, your ribs bruised horribly. Whatever happened had certainly left you winded. It could have been worse, though, you thought as your vision cleared up.

Standing up was almost impossible and each breath was wheezy as you fought the fog clouding your mind, your knees sinking into the mud as you did. Your dress was ruined, that much was obvious. The fabric and your skin were both covered in dirt and dust and black marks as you reached your feet. You tried to smooth it down, but it didn’t seem worth it, especially not as your eyes trailed up to see the wedding tent.

Well, what was left of it.

The golden marquee was in tatters, torn here and scorched there. Guests were running under the archways and disappearing into thin air like there was no tomorrow, no doubt encouraged by the black figures shooting brightly coloured spells at their feet. You almost wished the ringing in your ears hadn’t stopped as the sounds of shouting and carnage began to fill your senses.

__

“Y/N, you look lovely, dear,” Molly said, the pride in her voice obvious.

“Thanks,” you said, shooting her a wink. “I’ll be sure to pass the message on to my stylist.”

She laughed at the joke, patting your hand softly and leaving to tell someone off, no doubt. You remembered fondly her insistence earlier that no, she was never too busy to do her favourite soon-to-be-daughter-in-law’s hair. It was a good job though, you thought, that Fleur was too busy getting dressed up herself to hear that one.

You finished your champagne, more than grateful that the flute was enchanted as you watched it refill. As you stared, you became suddenly aware of someone’s eyes on you and turned to see Fred sat beside you, a strange look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked lightly, sipping your drink.

“Nothing,” he said, a decidedly un-Fred-like smile playing on his lips. It was far too angelic to be recognisable in his features.

“Is there something on my face?”

You all but slammed your glass on the table, using the shiny napkin holders to try and get a better look at your reflection.

“No,” he chuckled, his laughter only growing as you made faces, looking for some stray crumbs or Aunt Mildred’s lipstick. “There’s nothing wrong with your face.”

He placed his hand on top of yours, stopping your borderline-neurotic inspection. You looked up at him with a pout and a fond smile spread across his lips.

“There is,” he said, cupping your face in his hand and running his thumb along your cheekbone. “Nothing wrong with your face.”

Struggling to hide your pleased grin at his compliment, you leant into his touch.

“Sounds like someone has a crush, Weasley.”

“Oh, really?” he said, his hand leaving your face with a pout in its wake. You smirked though, when he scooted his chair closer to yours, like a child, leaning on the back of yours with his elbow instead.

“I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, his smile contagious. “Is that so?”

“Actually,” he said conversationally, leaning the side of his head on his hand. “I think you might be the one with the crush.”

“How did you know?” you said dully, slowly placing a hand on your chest in mock surprise. “How can I ever cope with the knowledge that you will never feel the same?”

He barked a laugh at your dry, monotonous tone, his head dropping to the side as he watched you for a moment, an unreadable look in his eyes. That was before, however, a sly smile lifted his lips – a look you were very familiar with when it came to Fred. You fixed him with a suspicious stare.

“How about we get out of here?” he said, shifting in his seat.

“What?”

Your eyes followed him as he stood up, brushing down his suit briefly before offering his hand.

“Come on,” he insisted impatiently. He made a face at your unwillingness.

“Fred,” you said incredulously, shaking your head at his gall. “This is your brother’s wedding.”

“I have other brothers,” he shrugged before rolling his eyes and leaning down to grab your hand. “And we’ll be back in 20 minutes, half an hour, maximum.”

You stood up, enjoying the way his hand twisted to thread your fingers together.

“We will, will we?” you said, raising your eyebrows with an amused grin.

“Yes.”

He moved to wrap his hand around your waist, pulling you closer so he could whisper in your ear.

“With you looking like that, I doubt we’ll need any longer, sweetheart.”

You choked out a laugh at his words and looked around you as you escaped through the side of the tent.

“If we get caught-“ you threatened, cutting yourself off when he shot you a smirk.

“Live a little, sweetheart.”

__

“Fred,” you said quietly, your voice coming out hoarse. You blinked, swallowing and letting yourself adjust to the frantic rush of your surroundings.

“Fred,” you repeated, slightly louder this time as your heartbeat began to race.

People were apparating in and out like wildfire and there were already a few bodies collecting on the ground. Only injured, from the looks of it, but your mind thought the worst. Spotting your wand on the ground, you bent down to pick it up, your whole body singing in pain at the stretching of your muscles.

“Merlin,” you muttered, a grimace contorting your features. That was going to hurt tomorrow.

You searched for someone you knew in the crowds, a recognisable face in a sea of sparks and mist and gold wedding decorations. Your reactions weren’t the best, though, and your head was swimming. Albeit, though, you were grateful to be getting your land-legs back with each shaky step. Every flash of red hair you saw had your heartbeat jumping, but none of them were Fred, all most likely some distant Weasley cousin and none of them anybody you wanted to see right now.

What had even happened? One minute you and Fred were watching Fleur and Bill dance – she did look ever so lovely in that dress – and the next you woke up on a bed of damp grass with a killer headache and a distinct lack of memories. You didn’t have to be a genius, though, to put two and two together. The dark figures slowly herding people inside the tent and shooting spells every which way were Death Eaters; you could only hope that Harry had gotten out safely. Despite your hopes, though, your thoughts were preoccupied with Fred and you found yourself praying that he was okay.

“Fred!”

__

You hoped you weren’t giggling too loudly, and that your dress wasn’t too creased, and that it wasn’t too obvious what you’d just spent the last 23 minutes doing. As you snuck back into the tent, you separated from Fred, shushing him and moving to interest yourself in the buffet as to avert suspicion. Necessary, you figured, with Fred being so very suspicious. Typically, he ignored your plans and followed you to the buffet table, a cheeky grin slapped across his face

You glared at him, distracting yourself with the mini sausage rolls and putting as much distance between you both as possible. Harry, unlucky as ever, was caught in the crossfire.

“You alright there, Harry?” Fred said, looking over the display. “Any of the classically beautiful Weasley cousins taking your fancy?”

“I’ve got other things on my mind, actually, Fred,” Harry said tightly. You felt your stomach drop slightly; he was far too young to be carrying so much weight on his shoulders.

“Ah, no mind,” Fred replied, as unaffected and blasé as ever. “I’m sure you’ve got your eye on someone else anyway, eh?”

You watched Harry’s face heat up and rolled your eyes affectionately: Fred had a knack for turning even the darkest of issues to humour.

“I’ve got my eye on someone here actually,” Fred said, piling cocktail sausages onto his plate with a mischievous smirk.

“Oh, really?” Harry asked, turning to face Fred. He clearly didn’t care but you did notice his double-take and frowned, your brows drawing together. “Who’s that?”

“Well, if I told you then I’d have to kill you,” Fred nodded solemnly, shoving three mini sandwiches in his mouth at once and shooting you a surprisingly subtle wink.

“Sorry, uh,” Harry stuttered, pointing at Fred and then gesturing to his own face. “You have, uh, something on your-“

“What?”

Fred frowned, his mouth stretching as he swallowed the food and began to rub at his cheek.

“Lipstick, I think,” Harry said, decidedly awkward.

Your eyes widened and you gulped, not daring to look at Fred

“Ah, cheers for that Harry.”

“Not a problem, Fred.”

With that, Harry turned to leave, surprised to see you behind him. You watched his eyes flicker down to your lips and you prayed to Merlin, Godric and even Salazar that he wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Alright, Y/N?” Harry said softly, his mouth set in an embarrassed smile.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice a couple of octaves too high. “Thanks. Enjoy your…”

You looked down at his plate, swallowing uncomfortably as you felt your face heat up.

“Chocolate frogs.”

“Ah,” Harry nodded. “Thanks.”

You clenched your teeth as Harry walked past you, cursing Fred under your breath. Chuckling, he slid next to you, his plate once again overflowing with food.

“Brilliantly eloquent there, love. I don’t doubt that Harry’ll enjoy those chocolate frogs, but I’m sure your well wishes are appreciated.”

“You’re the worst person alive,” you snapped, not looking at him.

“That is not what you said earlier,” he said smugly. You turned to shoot him a dry look as he pushed a block of cheese into his mouth.

“I hate you so much,” you insisted, your smile giving you away.

“Me?” Fred pressed a hand to his chest defensively, spewing crumbs everywhere as he spoke.

“Yes, you-“

Your bickering was cut off by the clinking of a spoon against a champagne class. You both turned to face Molly, who was looking particularly happy with herself as she announced Fleur & Bill’s first dance.

“Come on, you pig,” you huffed, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the crowd forming around the happy couple. Despite his grumbling, he put down his plate and followed you. Ever the gentleman, he brushed off crumbs onto his trousers before grabbing for your hand.

As you watched them dance, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. It was hard not to imagine you and Fred in their shoes in a couple years. Molly always told you that you argued like an old married couple as it was, surely it wouldn’t do any harm to make it official. You couldn’t think like that now though, not with the constant threat of war looming. It never seemed more real, though, than when Kingsley Shacklebolt’s patronus appeared, his deep voice ringing through the tent, announcing the incoming storm, creating a frenzy.

Fred’s hand tightened around your own and when the Death Eaters started appearing, you were grateful for the contact. You looked between the faces you recognised, somewhere between heartbroken and horrified to see Ginny and Molly already firing out spells; Harry, Ron and Hermione rushing outside, hopefully apparating to safety. Distracted by the others, you barely noticed a Death Eater appearing next to Fred. Fred, in his panic, didn’t seem to either. Just as he readied his wand, you found yourself pushing Fred to the side and out of the crossfire. The force of the hit ripped your hand from his and the last thing you remembered before you were knocked out cold was your body flying through the side of the tent.

__

“Y/N!”

You spun around, the new memories and very familiar headache making you wince as you all but collided with Fred, suffocated instantly in his tight grasp.

“Merlin,” he sighed, his breath fanning against your cheek as you struggled to form a sentence. “Am I glad to see you.”

He pulled away, cupping your cheek with one hand whilst the other still held your waist gently. “You had me so worried.”

He didn’t need to tell you that; you could see it for yourself. His relief was slowly ironing out the deep crease between his brows and his eyes were shining with tears in the light of the moon.

“Pushing me out the way like that, what were you even thinking? Could’ve been killed. Merlin, you flew right through that tent, George had to hold me back, he did. If I wasn’t so bloody worried, I would’ve ripped that bastard to-“

“Fred, we really need to go,“ George insisted, his eyes drifting to you for a moment as he anxiously fiddled with the wand in his grip.

“Hang on a minute,” Fred said distractedly, turning to his brother for a moment as his fingers slotted behind your ears, cradling your face.

“Are you okay, love?”

You breathed for a second, only vaguely aware of the commotion still going on around you. Without another moment’s hesitation, you threw your arms around Fred’s neck, holding him close and revelling in the familiar scent of his shampoo. You smiled as he relaxed in your hold, his chin digging into your shoulder.

“Guys-“ George said, the urgency in his voice unmistakable. Fred pulled away abruptly, his worried eyes scanning your face.

“Are you alright to apparate?” he asked, wetting his lips with his tongue.

You nodded.

“Let’s get the hell out of here then.”

harry potter tag list:

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[wiypt-writes]

Leave No One Behind

Ch2- The Red Sea Diving Resort : Part 2 Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Just a reminder- episode Warnings: Bad Language words. Allusions to death and serious injury.

Leave No One Behind Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 1

Later that night Ari headed out to meet Kabede who took him to the refugee camp. It was dirty, crowded, there was hardly any food…and then there was the woman. She’d shouted at both Ari and Kabede for bringing her to the camp exclaiming that her father had died, her husband was missing and her son was sick. Ari left feeling like shit, determined to do what he could, as soon as he could.

By the time he arrived back at the resort it was already dawn. As he parked the jeep he spotted Hannah walking down the sand towards the main part of the resort dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a tank top. He gave her a shout and she stopped and turned to face him, her hand shielding her eyes from the rising sun.

“You’re up early.” he smiled at her.

“None of us have been to bed.” she shrugged “We had too much to do, making the place habitable. We’ve figured out what each of the staff do…oh, and we also now have functioning showers. Max and Sammy got the hot water running.” she smirked slightly, nodding at him “You should take one…”

“Do I smell that bad?” he teased.

“Not considering you’ve been in those clothes for like, what? 48 hours?”

“Fuck knows.” he shrugged.

“How did it go?”

Ari took a sigh, his hands dropping to his hips “Honestly? It was horrible. There’s hundreds of them crowded in there Han. They’re sick and…”He ran a hand over his face as Hannah waited for him to continue “There was one woman there, she was crying, saying she’d left her home for nothing and she’d lost her husband and…”

“Well I know how she feels.” Hannah said softly as her hand moved to her neck involuntarily, and Ari saw her eyes flutter shut when she realised her necklace wasn’t there. She’d left it at home, for the same reason his Star of David chain was on his bedside table in his apartment- they were too obvious, invited too many questions, pointed to a part of their real lives and they couldn’t afford anything at all to do so.

“Firefly…you know, if I could change anything, about what happened…”

“But you can’t Ari.” she said softly before she took a deep breath “Andy knew the risks, we both did…” and just like that the walls were back up, and her face had recovered. “Come on, we should get some breakfast and then you can fill everyone in properly.”

With that she reached out to gently touch his arm before she headed off towards the hotel.

Ari watched her go. He hadn't reacted to her soft touch, not even a smile back or even a squeeze of her hand. The skin on his arm was burning where she had placed her hand but he was frozen on the spot consumed by guilt. Guilt about what he had just witnessed a few hours prior and guilt about what he was sure Hannah was feeling thanks to his desire to bring up Andy, once again, to purge his guilt. Fucking asshole, Levinson.

She reached the spot by the tables at the back of the resort where Max was stood having breakfast. He watched the rising sun glowing on her shoulders' skin, her hair blowing due to the sea breeze. Again, fucking asshole, Levinson.

"You ok, Cracker?" Max asked Hannah when she reached him by the back of the building.  He was concerned about the sad smile on her face.

"Yup." She answered and in a flash Max saw that sad simile turn into a wicked grin. But before he could ask what it was about, Hannah had stolen the toast that was in his hand and entered the building.

"Thank you for breakfast, Maltese Falcon." she quipped.

Max stood there, looking at her and then at his empty hand before sighing and following her back in. What was with these lot and fucking up his meals? 

Ari chuckled lightly as he watched the scene. That was the Hannah he had met all those years ago, the annoying but lively little sister. Firefly. He ran his hands through his hair before stretching a bit and heading back to the main building to freshen up and give instructions to the team.

Half an hour later they all had finished breakfast and the local staff were busy doing their assigned chores. Rachel had explained she had been talking to them and had instructed them to resume the usual jobs each one of them had been doing when the previous owners ran the resort. She had made a list with the names of the staff along with their designated tasks, and had asked them to address to her for any doubt or question, as she was the general manager of the hotel. 

When Ari made sure none of the staff were within earshot, he started to explain the situation the refugees he had visited the previous night with Kabede were in.

"It’s worse than we thought. We have to do something as soon as possible." Ari said and stopped as he could hear a pair of men from the staff speaking in Sudanese.

"It's too dangerous to speak here." Hannah said looking over her shoulder to where the voices came from.

"They are just discussing who cleans the kitchen floor." Rachel offered.

"Still. We need to come up with a way to speak more privately." Ari added.

"We could do it on the beach...." Sam started.

"Wait. The boats! We could tell the staff we're looking for diving spots, testing the waters." Jake cut in.

"Great idea, Jake. Let's go for it." Ari grinned.

"Have we unpacked the wetsuits yet?" Max asked looking at Hannah and she shook her head.

"We don't need them. We arrived only yesterday and we want to explore the surroundings there's nothing odd about that." Ari conceded.

They hopped on one of the boats and Jake steered it a few hundred yards off the shore where he cut the engine and allowed the soft waves and current to simply hold them in place as Ari began telling the group about his trip to the camp and his thoughts on their first run.

“Friday's holy to Muslims, so we'll have less military on the street.” Ari nodded as he took off his jacket. The sun was already blazing hot and he could feel it on his arms as he folded the jacket, dropping it to the floor of the boat. “We need a dark night, darkest Friday of the month”

“When is that?” Max asked.

“In two weeks.” Rachel answered him.

“Two weeks. Two weeks it is, then.”  Ari nodded. “Kabede's going to get two trucks from the locals, something inconspicuous that we can park out front of the hotel.” he said, pointing out of the boat back to the shore.

“We should do a dry run.” Sam said, “Familiarize ourselves with the terrain.”

“Jake, we gotta make sure the Navy's on time.” Ari looked at the man.

“What if they can't be?” Jake asked.

“I don’t care, tell them they don't have a choice.” Ari said, an air of urgency in his voice as he shrugged.

“I said, we should do a dry run.” Sam spoke again and Hannah looked at him, taking a deep breath as once more Ari ignored her bother.  

“Max, you and Rachel go with Kabede to get the trucks.” he instructed and Sammy gave a sarcastic scoff of laughter.

“Guess we're not doing a dry run.”

“They're dying, Sammy.” Ari said softly, and everyone turned to face him.  “They're sick, and they're starving. And we're not gonna sit here and enjoy Aziz's fucking cooking, working on our suntan while they're out there suffering, not if we can do something about it.” Max glanced at Hannah who was looking at her feet, before he sat up and cracked his neck. She winced and looked at him.

“I fucking hate it when you do that, you jerk.” she glared, reaching over to shove him. It wasn’t a particularly harsh push in his chest, but it threw him off balance enough to make him wobble backwards, almost sending him over the side of the boat.

“Easy Cracker!” he said, as the rest of the team gave a soft chuckle, the tension of the moment relived slightly as he pointed at her “Just so you know, I go in, you’re coming with me.”

She snorted and looked around, and Ari smiled as Max took a deep breath.

“Sam?” Ari looked at his friend who simply shrugged

“Better start making arrangements.” he replied, raising his eyebrows.

***** Over the next two weeks, in between the preparation they were making for the Mission, the team spent their time ensuring the Resort was cleaned up as much as possible, so that it at least looked passable from the outside. The days consisted of breakfast, work, lunch, work, dinner, drinks, work, bed. They’d done a supply run, stocked up the bar and collected the first supply box that had been shipped out from Ethan which to Hannah and Rachel’s’ delight contained a number of LPs which the girls spent a lot of time listening and dancing to.

The mood was largely light, growing serious when they were planning the mission in depth but overall it was happy, despite the few disagreements Ari and Sammy had over a few minor points. But then, one Wednesday morning drew round, and the mood was noticeably much more sombre. For good reason.

“You ok?” Max asked as Hannah reached into the middle of the table for the coffee pot. She nodded and made herself a drink before she simply turned made to walk away.

“Red?” Jake looked at her, but she ignored him and headed away from the table.

Max watched her go before he turned back to the table. He shared a glance with Ari who was watching Hannah’s back, before he turned his blue eyes to the table, his head bowed slightly.

“What am I missing?” Jake frowned.

“It’s 4 years today since her husband died.” Sammy said gently, looking at Jake.

“Oh, shit.” Jake said with a sigh “Sorry man.”

Sammy waved his apology off and watched Hannah out of the corner of his eye.

"How did it happen? I mean I know you were all on a mission but..." Jake inquired out of curiosity but in an attempt to not hurt anyone with out of place comments or questions as well.

"Jake." Max warned but Ari cut him off, his eyes fixed on the table.

"No, it's all right." he shook his head slightly.

"Ari you don't ..." Sam began to say.

"No, it's not necessary, Ari." Max added looking at Sam and then Ari whose eyes were still fixed on the table avoiding anyone's gaze.

"Sorry, I didn't want to..." Jake frowned as he glanced at Ari who shifted in his seat.

“Ari, are you ok?” Rachel asked him, frowning slightly.

"I'm alive. He isn't. So yeah, I should be ok." Ari replied still not looking at any of his team mates

"What do you mean?" Rachel spoke again, her tone cautious.

"He pushed me out of the way.” Ari spoke slowly “We were ambushed. Most of the team managed to get to a safe place, but Andy and I were stranded. He wouldn’t leave me, because ‘We leave no one behind’ he said. Then there were shots. They were shooting in the dark and a bullet impacted on a rock behind us and ricocheted"

Ari’s voice was steady like he was explaining a story someone had told him hundreds of times. He lifted his head before continuing and everyone could see his eyes watering.

"He pushed me out of the way and took a bullet that was meant for me, straight in the chest." he said looking at Jake.

"Fuck" Jake muttered.

"Fuck indeed" Ari conceded.

Sam and Max looked at each other and sighed. Rachel was unable to take her eyes from the table surface, struggling for something comforting to say and Jake lit a cigarette as he scratched the back of his neck. 

There was a moment’s silence before Ari suddenly stood up and strode swiftly away from the chair.

“Ari…” Max also stood, as if to stop him but Sammy gently grabbed his arm.

“Let him go.” Sammy said.

Max took a deep breath and dropped back into his seat.

********

Ari approached Hannah where she was sat on a large rock cluster at the far end of the beach just before it curved round the shore. But before he could open his mouth she spoke.

"I'm fine, Ari. I just needed to be alone" Hannah said startling him.

"How did you..." he asked.

"I can recognize your smell. Ok, erm, that sounded weird. What I mean is I can recognize the smell of the tobacco you smoke. It's different from Sammy's or Jake's." She explained without looking back at him.

Ari chuckled softly and asked for permission to sit her. "May I?"

She turned her head and looked at him, nodding. Her eyes met his for a few seconds before she turned her gaze back to the sea. 

“I’m sorry.” he spoke softly, “I really am…”

“Yeah, you keep saying, Ari.” she said with a sigh, “But there’s no need. I don’t blame you, you know.” She turned to look at him.

“I was convinced you did.” he said gently, the pair of them staring out at the sun bouncing off the blue water. “That’s why I never reached out to you. Shitty excuse I know but…”

“Would you?” she asked, turning to face him. “Blame me I mean, if it was the other way round and Sarah had died. Would you blame me?”

“How would I know? She left me.” Ari sighed.

“I know. Sammy told me… But still, you know what the answer would be…” Hannah looked at him. “And yeah, for a long time I was angry.” she conceded “Maybe at you too at first, but mostly at him for having to be the hero…but, that’s what you do isn’t it? When you’re out there and you have a split second to make a decision that you think is going to work out…”

Ari didn’t reply, because she was right. He wouldn’t blame her. Knowing what it was like in the field, as a team it was just what you did. You took risks, you watched each other’s 6. You were prepared to make the sacrifice play. With a sad smile he shook his head, looking down at his hands.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t” he said, looking back up over the ocean. “Guess you can still read me like a damned book Firefly.”

She scoffed “I’ve never been able to read you Ari, I thought I could but…”

Ari took that for what it was, a direct stinging barb about him breaking off their relationship, or fling, whatever the hell you could call it. And he deserved it. He had never given her an explanation.

“Andy was a great guy…” Ari cleared his throat. “I’m glad you found each other and got married. You deserved one another.”

“Just wasn’t meant to be huh?” Hannah sighed. “Ironically he’s been dead now longer than we were together…” She fell silent for a moment before she let out a snort “You know, about 6 months ago I went on a date. Just a guy I know from around…”

Ari felt his heart skip a beat. He had taken for granted Hannah would still be grieving and wouldn't be interested in dating. But then again, what did he know? It was over four years now since he had last held a proper conversation with her. She had obviously tried to move on and she had the right to do so. Only he wasn't sure as to why the thought of her going on a date with someone other than Andy made him sick to his stomach. Nevertheless, he smiled and looked at her “Yeah?”

She nodded “I wasn’t gonna but both Mama and Sammy told me I should, that I needed to get out and meet people…” “They’re right.” Ari said, smiling softly.

“Well I wish I hadn’t bothered.” she looked at him “It was a disaster, nothing in common…and he ate his lasagne with a fucking spoon, who does that?”

Ari laughed loudly at the look of disgust on her face “Maya, and she’s 7.”

“Exactly.” Hannah smiled, “and then to top it all off Andy’s sister saw me. I didn’t realise that until the next morning when his mother turned up at the surgery and unleashed absolute hell, calling me every name under the sun.”

“Seriously?” Ari frowned.

Hannah nodded “Mama nearly slapped her.”

“Han, that’s…that’s not fair.” Ari shook his head “They can’t expect you to live your life alone in mourning.”

“Well they clearly do…”

“Then they’re fucking idiots…” he said fiercely “You’re not even 30 yet. Andy…well, he would want you to live your life, be happy.” “Yeah I know.” she said, before she gave a soft laugh “You know, we used to play that game in bed at night. You know the one, the whole would you move on if I died…question. Andy told me he’d run off with a Bond Girl…so I replied that if Simon Le Bon came knocking I’d be off like a shot…”

Ari gave a snort.

“And then it got serious, and he told me…” she took a dep breath, swallowing as the lump formed in her throat “He told me that if it came to it, my heart was more than big enough to love someone else but still remember him.”

Ari glanced at her and sighed as he saw the tears trickling down her face. Automatically he reached out, his arm wrapping over her shoulders. For a moment she tensed, and Ari thought she was going to push him away but she didn’t. Instead she leaned into him slightly, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I never thought I’d find myself actually having to answer it for real.” she said, her voice broken. “Not so soon after us getting married anyway…”

Ari felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. She had said didn’t hold him responsible but still, hearing her broken voice as she spoke of Andy made him feel beyond remorseful because the simple fact remained that he was to blame for tearing her life with Andy apart, no matter how much of an accident the whole situation had been.

Eventually she sat up slightly, his arm still round her as she wiped at her face. “Sorry.”

“What for?”

“This…” she gestured to her face and Ari shook his head.

“Don’t…” he said softly “There’s no need to apologise.” he gave her shoulders a squeeze and then he had a sudden idea. “You know, seeing as it’s the first time we’ve all been together in years we should do something tonight, celebrate him a little.  A few drinks, camp fire…” “Yeah.” she smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

“Well then that’s settled.” he smiled, as his stomach gave a huge growl.

Hannah looked at him, and raised an eyebrow “El Lobo Hambriento huh.”

Ari couldn't help but smile at the use of her old nickname for him. He believed her when she had said she didn't blame him and he took her calling him The Hungry Wolf  for what it was, an olive branch of sorts. The line drawn in the sand. But he also didn’t miss the change of pronoun. She had avoided using My instead switching to The. He was once Mi Lobo Hambriento…but that was another story.

For now, the mere fact she’d called it him in any way was music to his ears. His hopes of being able to rekindle whatever friendship they both may have had once were a damned site higher than they had been. So, he let out a loud laugh and gave a sheepish grin.

“It’s been a long time since you called me that.”

She looked at him and gave him a little smile “Well, somethings never change huh?”

He held her gaze for a second before he gave a little sigh and stood up “Well, not wanting to ruin my reputation, I gotta eat…”

He offered her his hand and she took it and he pulled her to her feet. Dropping his hands back into his pockets he walked alongside her back towards the outdoor area where everyone else was sat eating.

“So I take it that it’s safe to assume, seeing as you never left, that Duran Duran’s lead Singer never showed up on your doorstep?” Ari teased and she laughed, genuinely before she looked at him.

“No.”

“His loss.” Ari said, shrugging and she smiled at him again, a genuine smile that warmed the very depth of his soul.

******

The day of the first mission rolled round, and Ari was like a coiled spring. It was planned as best it could be. They went over the maps, the plan, the route again, and their various roles. It was decided that for this one Hannah would be running with them, whilst Rachel would remain behind at base. Sammy was insisting that his sister ride with him and Ari, which Ari wasn’t bothered by in the slightest. If truth be told he was looking forward to it, but the way Hannah had rolled her eyes and merely called her brother a fucking idiot had made him chuckle.

They were fiddling with the military radios that they’d been installing in the trucks, soldering wires, tuning frequencies, Ari slotting an aerial onto his when Jake called over.  

“They're on.”

“Good.” Ari nodded, jumping down from his truck, satisfied both radios were working. “Leaving here in 12 minutes!” he yelled, clapping his hands together.

“All right.” Jake called back.

Ari made his way back into the resort as Rachel dismissed the staff with a thankyou in Arabic

“What did you tell 'em?” Ari asked

“That we were scouting diving spots and that we'd be back in the morning.” she said.  

“Good.” he nodded. At that point he heard some kind of vehicle trundling in the distance.

Hannah and Sammy, who were packing their medical kit also heard it. The siblings shared a glance before Sammy stood up and opened the wooden shades of the window of the hut they were in, and they both glanced out to see a bus approaching in the distance over one of the hills. Looking at one another again, they both exited and began walking across the sand. Max, who was stood by the side of the main building looked at them, waving them over before he glanced back at the approaching bus. The three of them joined Ari, Rachel and Jake at the front of the resort, Ari shooting a glance round at his team.

“You expecting someone?” Max asked.

“Roof. Now. Take the spear gun.” Ari instructed him. Max looked at Ari then down to the half-eaten sandwich in his hand. Hannah reached out and took the food off him with a grin as he rolled his eyes and jogged away to get in position.

As the bus drew closer, Ari turned his head to look up at Max who in turn stared down at him, the spear gun poised whilst the bus stopped outside the main entrance. Hannah instantly spotted the Sudan Ministry of Tourism logo on the side. The doors opened and a large man appeared, clipboard in his hand.

“Ah! Not an easy place to find.” he greeted them cheerily in a prominent German accent “You need better signage, for sure.”

Jake looked around, locking eyes with Ari who turned back to the new arrivals, his face passive as the man continued to talk. Rachel stepped forward and started to converse with him in German, Hannah tilting her head slightly to the right as she caught the odd word, enough to make her understand that Rachel was asking him what he was looking for.

The words “Red Sea Diving Resort” came across loud and clear, however, to the rest of the team and Sammy looked down, scoffing slightly, smile on his face as he shook his head.

“It is, but we are still under construction.” Rachel said, switching instantly into her cover role of Angela.

“Well, we're still months away from opening.” Ari added

“We just drove eight hours from Khartoum because of this.” the man said, his tone less friendly as he pulled out one of the diving resort brochures from his pocket “Huh?” Rachel took it from him no one quite sure what to do.

“Come, come. Alles gut. Alles gut.” the man started beckoning the people off the bus as Rachel turned and handed Ari the brochure. “Ja?”

Ari took the brochure and smiled at the man, as Hannah looked up at Max on the roof who was watching, a puzzled expression on his face as the tourists headed off the bus and into the resort.

“Show them out the back…” Ari looked at Rachel and then to Hannah. “Get them a drink, let them take in the view. In the mean-time have the staff set some of the tables out inside, and then meet us in the kitchen.”

They did as they were told, and once the loud excited chattering between guests outside made Hannah assume they were happy, Rachel nodding and laughing with a few of them, the two women headed inside, where the guys were already waiting, Max once more eating. Hannah hopped up onto one of the counters at the far side of the room, her legs gently swinging as she sat. No one said anything for a moment, Rachel standing and watching the movement in the main room through the lattice wall screen.

“Well, you have to send them home.” she said, turning to Ari.

“We can't do that.” he said as he leaned against one of the wall columns, his hand resting inside his open dark denim shirt, fisting slightly in the black T-shirt he had on underneath.

“Yes, we can. We point them in the direction of a real hotel.”  Sammy said, his back resting on the refrigerator.

“Colonel Madibbo sent them here. The last thing we need is to get complaints about this place.” Ari sighed, looking at his watch. “Fuck, we're an hour late.”  

He strode forward and glanced into the room, watching as he folded his arms, running his hand over his beard.

“So what do we do?” Hannah asked, watching him.

Ari shook his head, thinking for a moment. There was really only one thing they could do.

“Check 'em in.” he said after a moments pause, his hand held out at the side of his face before he turned to look at everyone “Give ‘em rooms”

“Check them in?” Sam asked in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“Are you crazy? This is a fake hotel.” Sam shook his head.

“So fake it.” Ari pressed.

Max chuckled from behind him, and Ari turned to look at him before he spun back to face the group as Hannah spoke.

“Ari’s right.” she said gently, and Ari looked at her, surprise evident on his face. “We send them back it’s gonna open a whole can of worms and before we know it our cover is blown.” she shrugged and looked round at the team before her bright blue eyes settled on her brother’s “What else can we do?”

Sam’s mouth fell open and he turned to his sister “You’re out of your mind!” he shook his head “You’ve no idea what-“

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a kid Sammy.” she cut him off, her voice stern.

“Ok, ok, look…” Ari said, breaking up the siblings squabbling “We all knew this could happen at some point, right?” “We did?” Sammy said, sarcastically.

“I didn't.”  Jake shook his head.

“Well…” Hannah shrugged, hopping down from her perch, looking around with a soft smile “Our fake hotel just became a real one.”

****

Chapter 3

[great-jenna-bake-off]

Season 3 Episode 6: Queen of Puddings

I started watching GBBO at least four years ago, and yet I still do not know what a pudding technically is. Sometimes it seems to just be a catchall term for “dessert”. This VOX article claims that “A British pudding is a dish, savory or sweet, that's cooked by being boiled or steamed in something: a dish, a piece of cloth, or even animal intestine,” which is confusing, because I don’t think I did any of that for this week’s bake. (There were certainly no animal intestines involved.) But whatever a pudding is, this week I made the Queen of Puddings, at least as defined by Mary Berry.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/queen_of_puddings_79904 

Step one was to grease a ¼ liter shallow ovenproof dish, which I do not have. Off to a great start! In my defense, there is only so much room for baking equipment in my apartment’s kitchen. I dug this dish up from my parents’ house and went with it because it was oval-shaped, like Mary’s example photo, but it definitely doesn’t qualify as “shallow”. 

Good enough.

Next up was to make a custard. First, I heated up milk, butter, lemon zest, and sugar in a sauce pan.

Does this count as “boiling or steaming” something?

Then, I carefully poured my warm egg mixture into a bowl with my egg yolks, which I had already separated from the whites. I whisked it together, and a custard was born.

Custard!

To make this custard more substantial, it is poured over a base of bread crumbs. Mary’s recipe specifies “fresh” bread crumbs, but I did not have a bunch of semi-stale bread lying around, so pre-packaged bread crumbs it is.

I told myself after my last bake that I’d stick to the recipe moving forward. Clearly that lesson did not sink in.

Crumbs + custard

I put my dish into a roasting tin, filled the tin with water, and stuck the whole thing in the oven.

At least my dish fits in the tin.

While my custard baked, I turned my attention to the next element of my bake: jam. Mary’s recipe suggests that you can use store-bought jam if you don’t want to make your own, but I have never made jam before and figured it was one of those things that was bound to come up sooner or later. Plus, I knew the bakers would have to do it, and I wanted to stay in the spirit of the competition. So I gave it a shot.

I used a mixture of raspberries, strawberries, and blackberries, since that’s what I had on hand in my freezer, but it seems any “summer fruit” will do.

I had some trouble getting my frozen berries to fully reduce into a cohesive sauce, and after what felt like ages of cooking time, my jam still seemed a bit watery with big chunks of fruit.

I guess this also counts as “boiling something”…

I decided to run my jam through a strainer, which didn’t help my watery-ness issue one bit, but I managed to mash the bigger pieces of fruit against the strainer to make them more sauce-like, and reincorporated it into the strained juice to produce something that could pass for jam, albeit a very runny one.

It’s a pretty color, at least.

Meanwhile, it was time to pull my custard out of the oven. I think I overcooked it slightly, but I had trouble getting the custard to set as much as I felt it should.

I baked the custard for about 35 minutes, instead of the 20-30 specified by the recipe.

While my custard cooled, it was time to make meringue. Luckily, I had some egg whites just sitting around that I had to separate from their yolks for the custard earlier. It’s always nice when a recipe doesn’t waste ingredients. Those egg whites and a bit of sugar quickly became meringue.

Thanks, KitchenAid stand mixer!

Finally, it was time to assemble. First, I put my jam on top of my custard. I vastly overestimated how solid the custard was and dumped a whole bunch of jam right on top, which caused it to mix in a bit with the custard. I quickly realized that it was better to gently spoon the jam on top of the custard.

Hopefully didn’t mess up the layers TOO much.

Next, it was time for meringue. I piped little poofs all over the top of the dish.

I’m actually very proud of my piping on this one.

And with that, the whole thing was ready to go back in the oven to brown the meringue. Not too difficult, all said and done. But would the bakers agree?

Sarah-Jane isn’t feeling too confident heading into the technical, as per usual. “You just have to kind of draw on everything you know about… everything… ever… in the space of five minutes,” she says.

I think Sarah-Jane might be my spirit animal.

Ryan has somehow never made custard or jam before, which leads me to question his GBBO preparation techniques.

Even I’ve made custard before!

Mary explains that the Queen of Puddings is many families’ favorite pudding, which I guess presumes that said families eat a variety of puddings on a regular enough basis to choose a favorite.

I’m really hung up on this whole “pudding” thing, I know.

As the bakers prepare their custards, Mel explains that they shouldn’t bake their custards too long or the surface will crack. I’m now thinking back to my own custard, which definitely had some cracks in the top. Whoops!

I mean it will be covered in jam and meringue… no one will know. 

Next, it’s time to move on to the jam, and Brendan seems to be some kind of jam savant, explaining that he’s looking for a soft-set jam. After all, he says, “There are some advantages to being older… you learn the setting point of jam.”

Showoff. 

Like me, John has some problems with the jam running into his custard, although his are much worse.

“Mary’s going to slap me in the face,” he moans.

The bakers seem intimidated by the meringue layer, which I find confusing. Meringue just… isn’t that hard?

Here, Danny whips up a second meringue, worried that her first one was too runny.

Finally, all the puddings are in the oven. 

Classic GBBO on-the-floor oven-watching pose.

Brendan seems to have gotten a nice golden brown color on the top of his meringue. Will this be the key to a technical challenge win?

Like a perfectly roasted marshmallow.

During the judging, Mary announces that the glass dishes they gave the bakers were part of her evil plan, so she and Paul can see how even the layers are on the puddings.

Feeling grateful for my ceramic dish right about now…

Unfortunately, James has overcooked his custard, which means it came out watery. 

Would I fall victim to the same pitfall?

In the end, Brendan’s lifetime of jam knowledge proves useful, and he takes home the win.

It does look like a rather royal pudding. 

My pudding was ready to come out of the oven, but would it be fit for a queen? First, here’s Mary’s example pudding… 

That’s a very elegant shallow dish.

And here’s mine.

Look at that piping!

The slice admittedly didn’t look too delicious, but there’s a reason Mary’s photo only includes the dish – I just don’t think this one is meant to look pretty on the plate. The show also didn’t really showcase what the bakers’ slices/scoops of pudding looked like. So I’m pretty sure mine is about right. Also, Mary’s recipe said to serve with “pouring cream”, so that’s what the puddle is around the pudding, not melted custard. (The bakers did not seem to do that in the show).

I thought my Queen of Puddings was pretty regal, actually. The meringue had good volume and was nicely crispy, and the jam and custard layers actually held up on the plate. But now it was time to see if my esteemed panel of judges would agree.

***

Matt’s Review: I was actually full from dinner when I dug into this pudding, and I was worried it was going to be too heavy. But as soon as I took my first bite and felt how soft and airy it was, I quickly ate the whole thing. Turned out, that’s a purely mouth-feel thing and I got a horrible stomach ache. But it was worth it. It’s a bread mush with surprisingly complicated flavors—sweetness was potentially the least pronounced one there. The fluffy texture (which I have to assume Jenna nailed) really let you focus on those flavors. It’s a balancing act, and the pudding landed it gracefully. I have no way to fairly judge presentation, but I will add that there’s nothing better than having a Tupperware full of pudding arrive at your door.

Wilson’s Review: Beautiful presentation, clearly defined merengue structure. Some nice peaks, clearly have a steady hand with the piping. But, the color’s a bit light isn’t it? In the future maybe keep it in the oven for a touch longer, or up the heat. Cutting it open you’ve got some nice defined layers, well done. Flavor is good, you can really taste the summer in the jam. The lemon isn’t really coming through, and that’s a key element to balance the sweetness of the jam and the crisp of the meringue – need that acidity. Overall a very good bake, worthy of being served on anyone’s summer table. 

***

Final Thoughts: As Matt mentioned, the pudding was delivered to him in the least royal of ways, dumped unceremoniously in a Tupperware and left on his doorstep. So sadly he didn’t get to witness the beauty of my pudding in its original form, and personally, I thought it looked great. I also enjoyed eating it – the meringue was crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, and the custard was smooth and creamy. The jam was definitely a little runnier than a store-bought variety, but I did like it enough to use the leftovers on toast for several breakfasts, so it worked out well enough. And to Wilson’s point, it needed a little more browning on the top of the meringue – perhaps I should have used the broiler at the very end to get that nice golden color. Overall, this was not a particularly tough bake, which was a nice change of pace after trying to get pie dough to defy gravity for the last bake. I still don’t know what a pudding is, but I did enjoy eating it.

[plush-anon]

Happy Halloween Scooby Doo! Review

Muahahhhahahhahahaha! Thanks to the Walmart tradition of stocking movies for sale weeks before the intended release date, I have myself a copy of what claims to be Scooby Doo’s FIRST Halloween adventure!

…in spite of movies like Witch’s Ghost and Goblin King, holiday specials like WNSD’s A Scooby Doo Halloween (which had a haunted Scarecrow too…), BCSD’s EL Bandito (for Dia de los Muertos - obvs not the same, but most companies act like it) and Halloween, The NSDM’s Halloween Hassle at Dracula’s Castle, and the DTV short film Scooby Doo and the Spooky Scarecrow (which, ironically enough, did NOT take the opportunity to feature Dr. Jonathan Crane). 

So let us take a look now at Happy Halloween Scooby Doo! and see whether this film will be a graveyard smash of a treat, or a black licorice bomb of disappointment.

Full review (and SPOILERS TO GO WITH IT) are below the cut in my new review format; if all goes smoothly, I’ll go with this for future Scooby films.

WARNING: This review is very long.

One minor note before we begin: the Special Features actually include BCSD’s Halloween, WNSD’s A Scooby Doo Halloween, and PNSD’s Ghost Who’s Coming to Dinner

...so they were AWARE this was not the first Halloween adventure of the Scooby gang, and yet still use that tag line. Hm. 

Still, kudos for including them - this’ll help boost the reasons to keep this movie, if it turns out to be a real Milk Dud of a movie *ba-dum tish* :D

-----------

The movie starts off rather abruptly, actually - no slow pan over the setting, just WB Animation credit and BOOM, we’ve cut to a Halloween parade and Elvira is talking. 

I’m of a mixed opinion including Elvira on top of having Bill Nye and a Batman Rogue - while she most certainly fits the Scooby aesthetic, it doesn’t feel as grand an impact after her weird little cameo in Return to Zombie Island (ugh) and I’m not sure how well the movie will balance her in wait a minute

wait just a

WAIT A MINUTE

Did - did that parade float skeleton just sing Crystal Cove as the town’s name?

oh no. 

Oh No.

....also their song is terrible and they should feel terrible.

-------

Fred: We got him! Banh Mi Shop, second floor!

me: the heck is a Banh Mi Shop? *mild googling noises*

So I guess Jonathan Crane really had a craving for a Vietnamese sandwich before he enacted his Halloween scheme.

...you think he’s a lemongrass chicken type of guy or a BBQ pork guy? It’s always hard to guess at these things, esp when coffee and pumpkin spice aren’t on the table (as per fanon, of course)

-----

Velma: We have a flawless track record!

So I guess WB is just gonna ignore the past few DTV retcons established in 13 Ghosts and Return to Zombie Island?

I mean that rather defeats the purpose of them existing at all, but fcuk YEAH I can get behind throwing that retcon garbage out of canon!

And STAY OUT!!

------

Shaggy, talking about ghosts being real: I’m like the boy who cried wolf - I keep warning you but like, you won’t believe me until I finally get eaten!

Yet again, Warner Bros makes a wolf reference to Shaggy. Yet again, I am torn asunder between wanting werewolf!Shaggy in a new Scooby property, and fearing for the appearance of werewolf!Shaggy in a new Scooby property. 

-------

Velma: Point is, being afraid is a waste of time!

Scarecrow, LITERALLY EXPLODING THROUGH A BRICK WALL three buildings away:

------

He’s floating through the air and t-posing to assert his dominance 🤣🤣🤣

Gods bless animation 😁

------

Daphne @ Shag and Scoob locking themselves in the van: Are you serial?

Me: wait, SERIAL? *re-reads captions* yup, that says “serial”.  

Is this an editing mistake? I don’t think that works here…unless that’s supposed to be a joke on how they always do this. But then why would that be an irritating surprise, they literally do this EVERY episode 🙄

-------

Oh hey, Red Herring’s Party Screams truck has Red Herring running out of it

Could this be a hint to how the story goes? The villain appearing on a literal Red Herring?

Naaaaaah, WB’s not THAT smart

-------

So if we take @captainbaddecisions​​ crack theory on Jonathan Crane being Shaggy’s uncle seriously, does this mean that Jonathan is using magic to fly, float fear toxin orbs around himself, and making things explode, a la the family trait of Crack Theory A? 

Logically he’s probs using wires or magnets or some shit, but it’s a fun thought to entertain 😁

------

Welp, we finally get the opening credits! … with Jonathan Crane smashing through the Mystery Machine’s windshield, set to a slow poppy song straight from the 60s, and spewing the title of the film out in glittery pink mist.

All the while Scooby and Shaggy throw candy at each other, deliberately obtuse to the cloud of fear toxin enveloping their friends and the townsfolk, the steady destruction of the Mystery Machine they’re laying in as multiple cars crash into it and send it spiraling, and the general mayhem and destruction that Scarecrow is causing

Never change, guys, never change

--------

I just choked on my lemonade

There’s an article plastered to the roof of the Mystery Machine titled “Talking Dog Confounds, Ignites Ethics Debate Over Dog Labor”

ahahahahaha

-------

Annnnnnnnd there goes the Mystery Machine, tumbling in the air and over the roads with Shaggy and Scooby still inside without seat belts. Will they perish in this horrible road accident? Will Death finally come to claim them at last?

Of course not. This is Shaggy and Scooby we’re talking about - I’m almost positive they can survive anything up to and including a nuclear bomb. This is child’s play to them.

-------

So they “capture” Scarecrow… by pinning his cape to a tree with crossbow bolts. 

And they do not try to at least tie up his arms or his hands in ANY capacity. 

JUST the cape. 

...you know, Velma, for a team with a “flawless” track record, you guys are making a hecking TON of mistakes in facing against one of Batman’s ROGUES GALLERY, ESPECIALLY with no Batman in sight, good freakin’ grief. 😩

------

Yaaaaaaaaas, this Scarecrow design is LUSH

He’s got the lank, the height, the BTAS costume colors, the elongated face with beaky nose and pointed chin and angular cheekbones, the eyebags like Gucci, the furrowed brow… honestly the only thing missing is the more reddish color hair, and even that isn’t mandatory. I love 😍

Not to mention the HOT DAYUM voice he has - low and velvet rough and so godsdamned particular in a way that could either tie in to obscuring a southern accent as in fanon or just as a stringent academic, oh my yes. He’s voiced by someone called Dwight Schultz, who’s most well known for playing Captain ‘Howling Mad’ Murdock in the OG A-Team show, and someone called Reginald Barclay in Star Trek TNG and Voyager, if any of y’all know that character in particular. 

And of course, the first line he says is a delightfully wry “Oh, but I AM getting away with it,” with the sort of smirk that absolutely lends credence to why he’s a threat to Batman, and not some simpering wimp that can be defeated with some crossbow bolts in a tree.

I think I’m going to enjoy this movie at least somewhat, so long as we get to see him 🥰🥰🥰

(tho on a side note: Daphne why on EARTH are you trying to film Crane saying the meddling kids line? Do you have a video compilation of past villains who’ve done that, and you hope to add his to it? Was your phone damaged when you went up against the Riddler a few DTVs ago and you want a second shot at recording a Gotham Rogue saying it? Bc I don’t think a Gotham Rogue would be too pleased with seeing himself as a Mystery Meme on the Youtubes, you get what I’m saying?)

-------

Okay, so the floating orb things are explained away as fear toxin bomb drones somehow… despite looking nothing like the other drones and being much smaller with no visible propulsion, while also flying unassisted through and around objects to explode against places once flung…

(tho interesting note, none of them are aimed directly at the crowds, just behind them - odd, that)

But how did he heckin’ FLY at the beginning?

Yeah, they show him wearing wrist-mounted grappling hooks at the end of the intro song sequence, but they are NOWHERE IN SIGHT at the beginning - and I do mean in sight, since he emerges against a backdrop of flames. There was nothing there (see the T-pose above for further evidence), and nothing there when he FLEW THROUGH THE MYSTERY MACHINE’S WINDSHIELD AND FLEW BACK OUT AGAIN. And these things are pale silver, which stands out like crazy against the darker backgrounds, so no hand-wavy ‘they were always being used’ bullcrap we’ve seen in other movies. 

Hmmm *scribbles in notepad* note to self, add notation concerning Crack Theory A on magic!Shaggy to “Uncle Crane” theory files - evidence denotes that Crane is able to fly (or at least hover in mid-air unassisted) for terrorization purposes. May boost strength of CTA by family association, lending credence to magic inheritance along the bloodline...

------

“Avocado Toast Generation”? Crane, I honestly don’t know if you really mean that, or if you understand just how much that phrase gets under any Millennial/Gen Z kid’s skin. Having seen multiple variations of your character, it really could swing either way (tho kudos on the dead switch idea - very nice 👍🏻) 

Although this does lead to an interesting stand-off: Fred, upon seeing the town threatened with 3 days worth of fear toxin, immediately moves to let Crane go, while Velma stops him and refuses to consider compromising if it means Crane escapes.  They both look legitimately frustrated at the other for taking the stance they do. 

Fascinating~

------

Hmmm

Crane honey, I don’t know if your drones are made of flash paper and hope, or if Scooby and Shaggy are using the reeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaally old candy (the stuff made about ~3 years ago most neighborhoods give out to the teenagers that knock around midnight on Halloween) to shoot them down, but either way you may wish to speak with the manufacturer about this

Then again, this IS Shaggy and Scooby - they probably could’ve spat marshmallows at the drones and brought them down with equal success and explosions 

(and good on them for shooting those down! Atta boy 👍🏻)

-------

Aw dang it

1. They still have Crane captured and now in handcuffs (despite having… you know… NOT been bound by anything except cross bolts in his curtain cape thing)

2. Dwight Schultz has decided to pitch his voice higher and more nasally than what he has. Hopefully this is more of an incredulous sort of pitch than something that sticks for the rest of the movie, ugh.

Also, I think they’re framing the movie to be more Velma-centric this time around - she’s the one explaining to Crane how they tracked him down, apparently through a piece of fan mail he sent Elvira (is that the only reason she’s there? Also why was Velma examining random pieces of fan mail for toxins, Elvira probs gets hundreds a week irl) and it looks like they’re framing something up on how fear isn’t something you can pretend isn’t there. neat!

------

whajit

53rd? 

53rd?!?!

ONLY 53rd?!?!?!?!

Boooo, Scarecrow’s WAY more popular than that! I call foul

---

Okay why is Daphne’s schtick so far to spit laaaaaaame slang after every sentence Velma says

I would rather this not be her schtick

Actually could she go back to filming mystery stuff, bc at least I can pretend it’ll build into the OG Zombie Island Daphne

----

Phew, his voice has returned to its low, raspy goodness

also, Crane needs to learn about personal space, good grief

(interesting clue brought up tho - Crane only steals tech that CAN’T leak his toxin, ergo it can’t be tracked until he releases it. Sensible use, given that Batman probs tracks it if it does.)

----

Velma: I’m not afraid of you, Crane. Fear is an illogical reaction to an imagined threat. 

Crane:

-----

Crane: Fearless, then. Intelligent. Proud and stubborn. You remind me very much of the one person in this world I care about. 

uhhhhhh

Yourself? Harley? Edward Nygma? Ichabod the raven? Idk, I’m honestly curious as to where this thread will go 🤔🤔🤔

-----

Fred, leaning against the Mystery Machine: Guys, it’s gonna be okay. She told me!

O_o

Fred? Honey? Are you sure you weren’t supposed to join Crane in the transport vehicle back to Arkham? 

----

OH SWEET JESUS SHAGGY GREW YAOI HANDS

WHAT THE HECK 

THAT’S WAY MORE UNNERVING THEN YOU GUYS NOT BEING AFRAID ANYMORE

(although the fact that they’re both unsettled by NOT constantly shaking or having their heart racing is honestly kind of heartbreaking. Y’all need therapy, good grief)

----

Shaggy and Scooby just chewed up candy (wrapper and all) to make themselves a Halloween costume of… what looks like barfed-up candy (ew)

Before then proceeding to dance so well that everyone around them also starts dancing in a 60s-70s era rainbow light show and giving them candy

I worry for these two sometimes - that kind of power seems to be getting to their head 😬😬😬

---

Oh hey, acid green toxic waste is spilling from an 18-wheeler onto the Fear Toxin drones and emitting a purple pink haze that envelops a pumpkin patch! That won’t do anything suspicious at all I bet!

(wait is Poison Ivy going to come into this at some point)

(also major kudos to the music here - very 80s horror synth, I like)

----

So the Pumpkins have grown faces, limbs, consciousness, the ability to fly and a lust for human flesh

And they appear to be led by the Pumpkin King of the Pumpkin Patch mentioned in the Charlie Brown Halloween special

He’s not as friendly as I pictured him being, sadly 😕

---

Why is this random ass cop coming up to FD&V to say that they’re in over their heads… AFTER the mystery’s been solved?

Like dude, you’re only making yourself suspicious at this point, go home

----

Huh, interesting - the gang are being interviewed for a tv news network while they’re considered the town heroes

Why am I getting bad vibes from this…

Eh, it’s probably nothing

----

Velma: {Shaggy and Scooby} are, um… REALLY into the Halloween spirit. 

Shaggy: THIS ISN’T COSPLAY, VELMA!

I’m dying 😂

------

Holy Shit

Velma just snapped and went off on Shaggy and Scooby for acting scared and doing nothing to help wrap up the mystery

(even though these guys are the ONLY reason that the gang didn’t have to choose between setting Scarecrow free and poisoning the entire town for 3 days straight, but hey, what do I know - I’m just writing an in-depth reaction post to this movie and taking note of details like this, clearly I know nothing *eye roll*)

Last time I saw Velma critique the guys’ usual mystery solving shenanigans, it was much more low-key and without knowing they were nearby

But I’m sure that’s just a coincidence

------

What the

Bills?

Bills?!?!

Fred just mentioned that fixing the Mystery Machine was going to leave a hefty bill and that they may need to get dishwashing jobs to earn money

Which is more of a job you might expect a high schooler to get on the go and yet

They actually have to pay bills 

How old are they here??!

------

wait a tic

THIS is how they introduce Bill Nye?

He just calls up Velma with no explanation other than Velma saying “Oh hey, it’s Bill Nye!”

I just - what?!?!

How do you know him so well that he can just pull up your number and call you, and then geT YOU A NEW FREAKING CAR LIKE

WHAT?!?!?!?

Was there a Scooby episode with him in the past two years where the fcuk did this come from

------

Also the car is dressed like Bill Nye

And he can talk to the gang directly as the car

So that he can solve mysteries with them whenever he wants

This… this was not what I was expecting to come about from the Bill Nye cameo 

(alas, poor predictions of being Crane’s roommate, you will not come to pass this day) 😔

-------

Ooooo, purple haze throbbing on the horizon! That’s always a good sign of things to come! 😀

------

 And now Daphne’s… asking Elvira to mentor her fashion wise. And Elvira’s taking her on as her unpaid intern/personal assistant.

Yooo, movie, can you pick a direction and stick with it for Daphne? You’ve gone from her spewing outdated slang to wanting a costume for trick-or-treating, and now this. 

-------

Welp, now I can say I saw a giant pumpkin dog vore an old woman

I didn’t WANT to see that mind, but I guess I can say it now 😐

------

OH SHIT NO

IT TURNED HER INTO A FLYING PUMPKIN SHAPED LIKE HER FACE

ABSOLUTELY UNSETTLING, 0/10 WOULD NOT RECOMMEND

-------

At least we get a nice scene of Daphne kicking the pumpkins’ collective butt

Something normal

------

Elvira: WOW! You’re a regular Mary Sue!

*falls over cackling*

------

And now there’s a giant purple fissure opening up in the concrete to swallow the town of Crystal Cove whole 

(good, i whisper softly into the darkness of my living room. Let it fall)

--------

Man, I feel so bad for this single father right now

He’s gotten wrapped up in all of this nonsense with his daughter, and he is just Distraught at being chased by Jackal Lanterns, having the town collapsing under his feet, and having to gorge jump in his sedan to get away from the worst of it

It’s okay, Mike Dad - we would feel the same way in your shoes

-------

Hologram Bill Nye is wearing Cat ears and cat whiskers/nose, and is cleaning his hands like a cat cleans its paws

Why was this the movie we found out Bill Nye was a furry

Why Warner Bros 

Why would you inflict this upon us in a Scooby Doo-Scarecrow mystery

-------

Hey, can Jonathan Crane return now? The movie needs its dignity back. 

------

A clue on the whys here - the town was built on top of a MASSIVE lithium deposit, with the talks to mine it being scrapped due to environmental concerns. That’s actually a decent lead in for why some 

-------

Welp

The Jackal Lanterns just went full Mad Max with the Halloween Parade floats and cars

No, I don’t have any idea why either, just roll with it

-------

Nice, they confirmed that Fred’s full name is still Frederick Herman Jones XD

Also a great little action sequence with Daphne - while there’s not much movement, they frame the scene dynamically, with some good quick wordplay. Very nice. 

--------

Velma has a mind palace

Aight

--------

Velma: Shaggy, I could kiss you!

Oh, to hear this as a child, when I still hardcore shipped Shelma *sigh*

------

Oh thank gods we’re going back to Scarecrow again

------

Shaggy ate some Scooby Snacks, leapt out of a moving vehicle, and onto the backs of two flying pumpkins that he promptly reined in to fly to Crane’s prison transport

...yet again, I am amazed at the sentences I am led to type for Scooby Doo DTVs

------

Ah, how very Hannibal Lector of you, Jon 

Man, he actually looks very meek in normal clothes - red long-sleeved shirt and grey slacks

-----

Hmmm

So Crane ISN’T behind the Jackal Lanterns - in fact he’s outright befuddled by them. This means his whole spiel to Velma earlier about both of them being caught in the same trap was… metaphorical? The breakdown doesn’t actually go into WHY he thinks they’re in the same trap - Crane’s whole schtick is tied to accepting fear, not denying it, so why would they be the same?

Either way, someone is using both him and Mystery Inc to do something to Crystal Cove (please be Red Herring, please be Red Herring, please be Red Herring)

Actually, that reference at the beginning really WAS a red herring - they framed it as being Jon the whole time when it wasn’t. Kudos!

Additional kudos to having Jon be seen more out of mask than in - he is a looker, and I aim to look as much as I can ;)

-------

Annnnd Daphne’s now trying to convince Elvira to switch clothes with her

I don’t get it - how on earth did we get from Daphne trying to find a good costume for trick-or-treating to asking Elvira to switch oh there it is nevermind.

-----

There is literally a scene where a giant buzzsaw is slicing towards Crane

and he just

stares at it

going “huh, that’s different”

And I LOVE IT

------

And here we have another fascinating scene: Velma going to free Crane from his cell, as Daphne tells her to just leave him to die by pumpkin

I’m wondering if they meant to draw a parallel between the two here - Velma starts by reciting a nursery rhyme, then overcoming her fears in order to release madness to take control. It’s not done very cleanly - mainly bc we barely have any time with Crane in this movie - but I wonder if they meant to insinuate that Crane was like Velma once, where he refused to acknowledge he was afraid, which caused him to lose focus on his initial goals

Idk, ignore my ramblings

---

Crane, smirking: I’ll need my personal effects - extenuating circumstances.

Me, fanning myself: I’ll need you to remove yours first

(i am not even kidding, Crane is an absolute DILF in this movie and it flusters me. Stupid sexy animation)

---

YAAAAAAAAAAASSSSS

SCARECROW TO THE MOTHERFCUKING RESCUE BABY, SCYTHE AND FCUKING ALL!!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

----

FCUK YEAH THE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING

HE HAS A DANCE LIKE QUALITY WITH SOME OF HIS FIGHTING MOVES

VIOLENT DANCING BRINGS THE GIANT JACKAL LANTERN DOWN BABY

THEN HE BACKFLIPS AND GYMNASTIC SWINGS INTO THE VAN

ROCK IT SCARECROW FCUKING ROCK IT

(minor note here, but the subtitles show Dr. Crane instead of Scarecrow - unsure if that’s more that the movie calls him Dr Crane or if it indicates he’s acting more heroic than villainous)

---

GODDAMNIT

THE GIANT PUMPKIN SNUCK VINES INTO THE VAN AND STOLE HIM BACK 

WHEN CRANE WAS... wearing a seatbelt before, but isn’t now.

...

BOOOOO

---

Yet again, we find a Scooby movie that attempts character development, but with Velma

Unlike Shaggy’s Showdown however, I’m mixed on how successful it is.

For starters, Velma hasn’t been this cocksure in other DTVs we’ve seen, so it’s a bit odd to see it now. While not 100% out of place - after all, the gang DID capture one of Batman’s Rogues Gallery on their own - it still feels a touch forced. Compare that to Shaggy’s Showdown, where Shaggy has ALWAYS been a coward (one that, in more recent years, writers have had willing to abandon his friends for safety), so the character development there feels more natural. 

The progression of events with Velma actually work somewhat okay - but again, here’s where past DTVs come to bite them in the ass. The past handful have had the gang be wrong, have had them fail, or catch the wrong guy. This makes Velma’s attitude here at odds with the other films, something that sticks more due to a character that’s appeared in the past few films as a minor inconvenience - a Sheriff who keeps telling the gang not to interfere, they’re doing things wrong, etc. If this had been a character who was completely wrong in the past AND SHOWN TO BE WRONG FOR HIS OPINIONS, while the gang never guessed wrong, this would work much better. Unfortunately, it doesn’t, and here we are. 

I think it would have flowed better if Velma’s cockiness came solely from catching Crane on their own. Have a random cop character or reporter or whatever (just not the recurring cop), insinuate that the gang is in too deep with Scarecrow, that he should be handled by the adults or professionals or whatever. Velma could bristle, overcompensate, and THEN fall from her pedestal like we see, reach out to the gang and commiserate over feeling scared, and grow. Again, it’s not too far to reach for, but they handle it poorly; as a result, the outcome feels a little more shoehorned in. 

It’s an honest shame, bc we haven’t had a Velma centered story since Frankencreepy, and we all remember what a hideous fcuking mess THAT was *shudders*. Still, it somewhat gets its point across, I guess.

---

Fred why did you rip your shirt off

Actually better question why do you not have nipples

--- 

Awwwwwww

Velma just apologized to Shag and Scoob for snapping at them earlier, and admits how she doesn’t appreciate how much they make Mystery Inc what it is

Also she eats a Scooby Snack with them and admits they taste pretty good

----

Huh

Velma’s mind palace is the Mystery Machine driving through space

Also Shaggy and Scooby are able to telepathically follow her in and communicate with her

Literally, they actually followed her into her head telepathically, and show her their memories of things she hasn’t gotten to see tonight (while also possibly enhancing her ability to remember things, given how much DETAIL she captures perfectly of things that she would maybe have glimpsed in a millisecond AT MOST)

...another tally for Crack Theory A of magic! Shaggy and Scooby *scribbles*

-------

Fred, be very very thankful that there are no people operating those pumpkins in person cause uhhhh

Those traps would be spraying red instead of orange

------

Another weird music choice - the gang goes up to fight the Jackal Lanterns, but the music is the same 60s bubble we heard earlier 

Not terribly atmospheric, really

(wouldn’t a Smashing Pumpkins cover of Scooby Doo be more appropriate, or did you guys spend all your money on hiring Elvira and Bill Nye?)

------

Dang

Velma just admitted her fears and jumped into the mouth of the Mega Pumpkin, before getting Fred to use the app from earlier to shut it down, revealing it to be a giant drone surrounded by smaller pumpkin drones

This feels… counterintuitive, but I’ll try to explain at the end

---

Okay

I’ll admit it

The Whodunnit is actually pretty decent in concept

There was a sprinkling of tidbits that could be assembled for the final conclusion and still make a decent amount of sense, all to find the sheriff doing it 

Only he isn’t a sheriff

He’s a former Tech CEO who was also busted by the gang years ago in a case the Sheriff kept bringing up throughout the movie - due to his prison sentence, he lost more than half his wealth and the opportunity to expand it further with the Crystal Cove Lithium deposits

He was also someone who sold tech to Crane for his fear toxin distribution, where he got the idea to frame him for it

(tho on a side note, Crane is an absolute dork and a terrible liar - just look at the email he sent XD and that profile pic, my gods)

He deliberately picked at the gang for the past few DTVs (specifically 2: Return to Zombie Island and Curse of the 13th Ghost) to fracture their confidence, undermine them, etc - all so that in one fell swoop, he could retake his fortune, frighten everyone in town away from the mines so they couldn’t interfere, frighten away the gang (while also ruining their reputation as mystery solvers), and take Crane off the docket so he couldn’t identify the CEO when he pretended to be the sheriff

This… is actually a pretty damn good plan, for a Scooby villain. He was patient, manipulative, and clever, learning how best to tie up loose ends and win back what he lost. A clever revenge story that came so close to coming to fruition, and could have honestly been sold convincingly… 

...if it hadn’t been done so much better in Scooby Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed. 

Yeeeaaaah, this movie basically lifts the rough framework up from that one - past mystery villain comes back to attack the gang and ruin their reputation (tho this one decides to also make his fortune back and tie up loose ends with former criminal contacts, a la Crane). Gang is embarrassed in front of the news folk, another villain is framed for it (like Old Man Wickles of the Black Knight fame), and the gang must reconcile to foil the villain for good.

Although it also??? Merges elements of Frankencreepy in it?? The movie is focused on Velma, who is struggling to admit when she’s wrong (which ties into her fear, somehow… I’ll think on that point a little) and things purportedly go haywire when she won’t bend. This… isn’t illustrated as well here, since there’s very little direct cause-and-effect from Velma’s actions that would prove this point - that insisting her way is the right, best, and therefore only way to go ends up making things worse.  

As much as I despised Frankencreepy (and I DESPISED IT), it did do that part well - showing that refusing to budge on something can lead to you hurting your friends (literally, in that one), and that admitting you were wrong and need help isn’t the end of the world. 

(that movie also had former villains returning to gain vengeance upon the gang using psychological warfare, hm - may need to go over that one again, unfortunately).

It’s a shame, too -  the basic elements for this plot are all here, they just need to be polished and reworked a bit to make a really fascinating movie. 

------

Anyways, back to the asshat CEO who just… faked being a sheriff. Because white people can get away with that so long as they have the outfit and the car *throws up hands* (the sad part is this is probably something that actually happens)

As he drives away we see a familiar silhouette looming in the cornfields, watching him approach

Velma had Bill Nye on speaker, so he could record the entire confession for the federal officers nearby (who were taking Scarecrow back to Arkham), and track the phone signal to his exact location

And right as his holographic call cuts out, we see the shadow of a Scarecrow looming over him, causing him to scream.

When the feds arrive at his final location, both his body and the money have vanished. The car still sits, engine running, before the crows leering over him from the field vanish into the sky. 

-------

Now that he’s dead, the gang walks and finds themselves at a Halloween party, with friendly faces and good food. The mystery is solved, though the culprit may never be found again. 

Then Daphne admits to NOT trying to steal Elvira’s costume for Halloween, but instead trying to steal Elvira’s identity and replace her. 

Something that she’s apparently nearly gotten away with on past mysteries working with Phillis Diller

*sighs* movie, why couldn’t you just stick to the costume schtick? This is just… so much worse. 

-----

From there, Elvira walks off to wrap things up, reveal the monster face on the back of her head sans wig (which was also a monkey), and start the credits, where we see the gang working to bring the Mystery Machine back to its former glory a la Frankenstein pastiche. 

This movie… this movie is a hot mess, but at least it’s an OKAY hot mess. 

It really does feel like someone started writing a decent Velma-focused movie concerning the Scarecrow and a past Mystery Inc villain interfering, but was bogged down by notes from higher-ups: Wait! Write in Elvira! Also write in Bill Nye! Hey, let’s have a Mad Max car chase with the Jackal Lanterns! And have Daphne obsessed with literally becoming Elvira! Also make reference to things that we’ll insist be explained this way instead of a way that makes sense! Great!

(seriously tho, we never find out who Crane cares about most that reminds him of Velma, what the heck?)

It’s like two or three different scripts were smooshed together without being cleaned up - stuff is said that doesn’t get resolved, the celebrity guests don’t get to breathe much and feel squished together, and the build-up for the villain feels… less impactful, even knowing that he’s been in the past two films. 

It might have worked if he’d been in… let’s say like 5 or 6 DTVs in a row, speaking roles for dissing the gang growing in each (ex start with “Good job kids! But maybe next time, leave it to the professionals, okay?” and growing more bitter from there), but only 2 feels kind of meh. Still, I do appreciate the clues we got to collect together, and they all work in the final breakdown of the scheme - some DTVs can feel like they pull stuff completely out of nowhere, so kudos there. 

I appreciate what they wanted to do with Velma - give her a character development arc similar to Shaggy’s in Shaggy’s Showdown. Unfortunately, it wasn’t set up quite so neatly: they blended her ‘refusal to admit fear’ with her overconfidence that she was always right, and it led to a weird conclusion. To face her fears, she leapt into the Giant Pumpkin, which… proved that she was right all along about it being fake, and that solves things somehow. It doesn’t address how she can get something wrong sometimes, it doesn’t really address what she’s afraid of (which is honestly quite good: she’s afraid of failing in a way that allows bad guys to escape justice and in a way that hurts her friends), it’s just a bit of a mess. Points for aiming the focus the right way (and in a way that DOESN’T sexualize the underage teenage girl, unlike some DTVs cough cough Frankencreepy cough cough), but it’s very very messy how it goes about it. 

The movie actually balanced pretty well for the whole gang - no excessive focus on one leaving the rest in the dust (too much at least - Fred was a touch underdeveloped, but nowhere near as annoying as past iterations have been. Shaggy and Scooby were kind of meh in some places but great in others, while Daphne was just odd. I think they were trying to recapture the BCSD Daphne characterization, but they failed. Still, she did spend some good time kicking ass with the pumpkins, so that was fun.

Now for the Rogue, Jonathan Crane. If you like Crane, this movie gives you: maniacal Scarecrow, calm and creepy Crane, a brief glimpse at fanboy!Crane (he admits in his own awkward way that he’s a fan of Elvira, and later tells her he loves her work - it’s fun), and (best of all for me) a heroic Crane - one who helps the protagonists and ends up kicking ass pretty damn well, brief as it was. And while DILF Crane is always a treat, he feels underutilized in this. In comparison, Scooby Doo/Batman Brave and the Bold really utilized a lot of different aspects of Riddler, to the point he actually does feel pretty menacing by the third act. It’s a shame we don’t quite get that with Crane, but I do love seeing him 1. More out of mask, and 2. Acting as a good guy (in his own way), so he’s enjoyable on the whole. 

I kind of wish that the whole movie was spent more with Crane, but again, the script is a bit of a mess on this part - the fact that he’s not completely screwed over is a goddamn miracle. 

Elvira was… okay. She didn’t have much of a purpose beyond getting the plot started and giving Daphne some hooks to play off of. Bill Nye (abrupt as his introduction was) did provide some necessary elements to the mystery, as well as the tech; he wasn’t too bad by the end. (still a touch bitter we didn’t get ex roommate Nye, but hey, what can you do)

Humor was… mixed. Some good, some meh, but very few long enough to feel painful. Some bits felt extraneous at times, but they did help to build to the conclusion, so points for effort.

At the end of the day though, I’m probably keeping this more for Jonathan Crane than anyone else. It does have a lot of fanfic potential tho 🤔🤔🤔

That’s all from me tonight, folks! Hope you enjoyed my own little breakdown of the movie. 

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Leave No One Behind Ch2: The Red Sea Diving Resort

Part 2

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Just a reminder- episode Warnings: Bad Language words. Allusions to death and serious injury.

Series Master List   //  Main Masterlist 

Part 1 

Later that night Ari headed out to meet Kabede who took him to the refugee camp. It was dirty, crowded, there was hardly any food…and then there was the woman. She’d shouted at both Ari and Kabede for bringing her to the camp exclaiming that her father had died, her husband was missing and her son was sick. Ari left feeling like shit, determined to do what he could, as soon as he could.

By the time he arrived back at the resort it was already dawn. As he parked the jeep he spotted Hannah walking down the sand towards the main part of the resort dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a tank top. He gave her a shout and she stopped and turned to face him, her hand shielding her eyes from the rising sun.

“You’re up early.” he smiled at her.

“None of us have been to bed.” she shrugged “We had too much to do, making the place habitable. We’ve figured out what each of the staff do…oh, and we also now have functioning showers. Max and Sammy got the hot water running.” she smirked slightly, nodding at him “You should take one…”

“Do I smell that bad?” he teased.

“Not considering you’ve been in those clothes for like, what? 48 hours?”

“Fuck knows.” he shrugged.

“How did it go?”

Ari took a sigh, his hands dropping to his hips “Honestly? It was horrible. There’s hundreds of them crowded in there Han. They’re sick and…”He ran a hand over his face as Hannah waited for him to continue “There was one woman there, she was crying, saying she’d left her home for nothing and she’d lost her husband and…”

“Well I know how she feels.” Hannah said softly as her hand moved to her neck involuntarily, and Ari saw her eyes flutter shut when she realised her necklace wasn’t there. She’d left it at home, for the same reason his Star of David chain was on his bedside table in his apartment- they were too obvious, invited too many questions, pointed to a part of their real lives and they couldn’t afford anything at all to do so.

“Firefly…you know, if I could change anything, about what happened…”

“But you can’t Ari.” she said softly before she took a deep breath “Andy knew the risks, we both did…” and just like that the walls were back up, and her face had recovered.  “Come on, we should get some breakfast and then you can fill everyone in properly.”

With that she reached out to gently touch his arm before she headed off towards the hotel.

Ari watched her go. He hadn't reacted to her soft touch, not even a smile back or even a squeeze of her hand. The skin on his arm was burning where she had placed her hand but he was frozen on the spot consumed by guilt. Guilt about what he had just witnessed a few hours prior and guilt about what he was sure Hannah was feeling thanks to his desire to bring up Andy, once again, to purge his guilt. Fucking asshole, Levinson.

She reached the spot by the tables at the back of the resort where Max was stood having breakfast. He watched the rising sun glowing on her shoulders' skin, her hair blowing due to the sea breeze. Again, fucking asshole, Levinson.

"You ok, Cracker?" Max asked Hannah when she reached him by the back of the building.  He was concerned about the sad smile on her face.

"Yup." She answered and in a flash Max saw that sad simile turn into a wicked grin. But before he could ask what it was about, Hannah had stolen the toast that was in his hand and entered the building.

"Thank you for breakfast, Maltese Falcon." she quipped.

Max stood there, looking at her and then at his empty hand before sighing and following her back in. What was with these lot and fucking up his meals?

Ari chuckled lightly as he watched the scene. That was the Hannah he had met all those years ago, the annoying but lively little sister. Firefly. He ran his hands through his hair before stretching a bit and heading back to the main building to freshen up and give instructions to the team.

Half an hour later they all had finished breakfast and the local staff were busy doing their assigned chores. Rachel had explained she had been talking to them and had instructed them to resume the usual jobs each one of them had been doing when the previous owners ran the resort. She had made a list with the names of the staff along with their designated tasks, and had asked them to address to her for any doubt or question, as she was the general manager of the hotel.

When Ari made sure none of the staff were within earshot, he started to explain the situation the refugees he had visited the previous night with Kabede were in.

"It’s worse than we thought. We have to do something as soon as possible." Ari said and stopped as he could hear a pair of men from the staff speaking in Sudanese.

"It's too dangerous to speak here." Hannah said looking over her shoulder to where the voices came from.

"They are just discussing who cleans the kitchen floor." Rachel offered.

"Still. We need to come up with a way to speak more privately." Ari added.

"We could do it on the beach...." Sam started.

"Wait. The boats! We could tell the staff we're looking for diving spots, testing the waters." Jake cut in.

"Great idea, Jake. Let's go for it." Ari grinned.

"Have we unpacked the wetsuits yet?" Max asked looking at Hannah and she shook her head.

"We don't need them. We arrived only yesterday and we want to explore the surroundings there's nothing odd about that." Ari conceded.

They hopped on one of the boats and Jake steered it a few hundred yards off the shore where he cut the engine and allowed the soft waves and current to simply hold them in place as Ari began telling the group about his trip to the camp and his thoughts on their first run.

“Friday's holy to Muslims, so we'll have less military on the street.” Ari nodded as he took off his jacket. The sun was already blazing hot and he could feel it on his arms as he folded the jacket, dropping it to the floor of the boat. “We need a dark night, darkest Friday of the month”

“When is that?” Max asked.

“In two weeks.” Rachel answered him.

“Two weeks. Two weeks it is, then.”  Ari nodded. “Kabede's going to get two trucks from the locals, something inconspicuous that we can park out front of the hotel.” he said, pointing out of the boat back to the shore.

“We should do a dry run.” Sam said, “Familiarize ourselves with the terrain.”

“Jake, we gotta make sure the Navy's on time.” Ari looked at the man.

“What if they can't be?” Jake asked.

“I don’t care, tell them they don't have a choice.” Ari said, an air of urgency in his voice as he shrugged.

“I said, we should do a dry run.” Sam spoke again and Hannah looked at him, taking a deep breath as once more Ari ignored her bother.

“Max, you and Rachel go with Kabede to get the trucks.” he instructed and Sammy gave a sarcastic scoff of laughter.

“Guess we're not doing a dry run.”

“They're dying, Sammy.” Ari said softly, and everyone turned to face him.  “They're sick, and they're starving. And we're not gonna sit here and enjoy Aziz's fucking cooking, working on our suntan while they're out there suffering, not if we can do something about it.” Max glanced at Hannah who was looking at her feet, before he sat up and cracked his neck. She winced and looked at him.

“I fucking hate it when you do that, you jerk.” she glared, reaching over to shove him. It wasn’t a particularly harsh push in his chest, but it threw him off balance enough to make him wobble backwards, almost sending him over the side of the boat.

“Easy Cracker!” he said, as the rest of the team gave a soft chuckle, the tension of the moment relived slightly as he pointed at her “Just so you know, I go in, you’re coming with me.”

She snorted and looked around, and Ari smiled as Max took a deep breath.

“Sam?” Ari looked at his friend who simply shrugged

“Better start making arrangements.” he replied, raising his eyebrows.

***** Over the next two weeks, in between the preparation they were making for the Mission, the team spent their time ensuring the Resort was cleaned up as much as possible, so that it at least looked passable from the outside. The days consisted of breakfast, work, lunch, work, dinner, drinks, work, bed. They’d done a supply run, stocked up the bar and collected the first supply box that had been shipped out from Ethan which to Hannah and Rachel’s’ delight contained a number of LPs which the girls spent a lot of time listening and dancing to.

The mood was largely light, growing serious when they were planning the mission in depth but overall it was happy, despite the few disagreements Ari and Sammy had over a few minor points. But then, one Wednesday morning drew round, and the mood was noticeably much more sombre. For good reason.

“You ok?” Max asked as Hannah reached into the middle of the table for the coffee pot. She nodded and made herself a drink before she simply turned made to walk away.

“Red?” Jake looked at her, but she ignored him and headed away from the table.

Max watched her go before he turned back to the table. He shared a glance with Ari who was watching Hannah’s back, before he turned his blue eyes to the table, his head bowed slightly.

“What am I missing?” Jake frowned.

“It’s 4 years today since her husband died.” Sammy said gently, looking at Jake.

“Oh, shit.” Jake said with a sigh “Sorry man.”

Sammy waved his apology off and watched Hannah out of the corner of his eye.

"How did it happen? I mean I know you were all on a mission but..." Jake inquired out of curiosity but in an attempt to not hurt anyone with out of place comments or questions as well.

"Jake." Max warned but Ari cut him off, his eyes fixed on the table.

"No, it's all right." he shook his head slightly.

"Ari you don't ..." Sam began to say.

"No, it's not necessary, Ari." Max added looking at Sam and then Ari whose eyes were still fixed on the table avoiding anyone's gaze.

"Sorry, I didn't want to..." Jake frowned as he glanced at Ari who shifted in his seat.

“Ari, are you ok?” Rachel asked him, frowning slightly.

"I'm alive. He isn't. So yeah, I should be ok." Ari replied still not looking at any of his team mates

"What do you mean?" Rachel spoke again, her tone cautious.

"He pushed me out of the way.” Ari spoke slowly “We were ambushed. Most of the team managed to get to a safe place, but Andy and I were stranded. He wouldn’t leave me, because ‘We leave no one behind’ he said. Then there were shots. They were shooting in the dark and a bullet impacted on a rock behind us and ricocheted"

Ari’s voice was steady like he was explaining a story someone had told him hundreds of times. He lifted his head before continuing and everyone could see his eyes watering.

"He pushed me out of the way and took a bullet that was meant for me, straight in the chest." he said looking at Jake.

"Fuck" Jake muttered.

"Fuck indeed" Ari conceded.

Sam and Max looked at each other and sighed. Rachel was unable to take her eyes from the table surface, struggling for something comforting to say and Jake lit a cigarette as he scratched the back of his neck.

There was a moment’s silence before Ari suddenly stood up and strode swiftly away from the chair.

“Ari…” Max also stood, as if to stop him but Sammy gently grabbed his arm.

“Let him go.” Sammy said.

Max took a deep breath and dropped back into his seat.

********

Ari approached Hannah where she was sat on a large rock cluster at the far end of the beach just before it curved round the shore. But before he could open his mouth she spoke.

"I'm fine, Ari. I just needed to be alone" Hannah said startling him.

"How did you..." he asked.

"I can recognize your smell. Ok, erm, that sounded weird. What I mean is I can recognize the smell of the tobacco you smoke. It's different from Sammy's or Jake's." She explained without looking back at him.

Ari chuckled softly and asked for permission to sit her. "May I?"

She turned her head and looked at him, nodding. Her eyes met his for a few seconds before she turned her gaze back to the sea.

“I’m sorry.” he spoke softly, “I really am…”

“Yeah, you keep saying, Ari.” she said with a sigh, “But there’s no need. I don’t blame you, you know.” She turned to look at him.

“I was convinced you did.” he said gently, the pair of them staring out at the sun bouncing off the blue water. “That’s why I never reached out to you. Shitty excuse I know but…”

“Would you?” she asked, turning to face him. “Blame me I mean, if it was the other way round and Sarah had died. Would you blame me?”

“How would I know? She left me.” Ari sighed.

“I know. Sammy told me… But still, you know what the answer would be…” Hannah looked at him. “And yeah, for a long time I was angry.” she conceded “Maybe at you too at first, but mostly at him for having to be the hero…but, that’s what you do isn’t it? When you’re out there and you have a split second to make a decision that you think is going to work out…”

Ari didn’t reply, because she was right. He wouldn’t blame her. Knowing what it was like in the field, as a team it was just what you did. You took risks, you watched each other’s 6. You were prepared to make the sacrifice play. With a sad smile he shook his head, looking down at his hands.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t” he said, looking back up over the ocean. “Guess you can still read me like a damned book Firefly.”

She scoffed “I’ve never been able to read you Ari, I thought I could but…”

Ari took that for what it was, a direct stinging barb about him breaking off their relationship, or fling, whatever the hell you could call it. And he deserved it. He had never given her an explanation.

“Andy was a great guy…” Ari cleared his throat. “I’m glad you found each other and got married. You deserved one another.”

“Just wasn’t meant to be huh?” Hannah sighed. “Ironically he’s been dead now longer than we were together…” She fell silent for a moment before she let out a snort “You know, about 6 months ago I went on a date. Just a guy I know from around…”

Ari felt his heart skip a beat. He had taken for granted Hannah would still be grieving and wouldn't be interested in dating. But then again, what did he know? It was over four years now since he had last held a proper conversation with her. She had obviously tried to move on and she had the right to do so. Only he wasn't sure as to why the thought of her going on a date with someone other than Andy made him sick to his stomach. Nevertheless, he smiled and looked at her “Yeah?”

She nodded “I wasn’t gonna but both Mama and Sammy told me I should, that I needed to get out and meet people…” “They’re right.” Ari said, smiling softly.

“Well I wish I hadn’t bothered.” she looked at him “It was a disaster, nothing in common…and he ate his lasagne with a fucking spoon, who does that?”

Ari laughed loudly at the look of disgust on her face “Maya, and she’s 7.”

“Exactly.” Hannah smiled, “and then to top it all off Andy’s sister saw me. I didn’t realise that until the next morning when his mother turned up at the surgery and unleashed absolute hell, calling me every name under the sun.”

“Seriously?” Ari frowned.

Hannah nodded “Mama nearly slapped her.”

“Han, that’s…that’s not fair.” Ari shook his head “They can’t expect you to live your life alone in mourning.”

“Well they clearly do…”

“Then they’re fucking idiots…” he said fiercely “You’re not even 30 yet. Andy…well, he would want you to live your life, be happy.” “Yeah I know.” she said, before she gave a soft laugh “You know, we used to play that game in bed at night. You know the one, the whole would you move on if I died…question. Andy told me he’d run off with a Bond Girl…so I replied that if Simon Le Bon came knocking I’d be off like a shot…”

Ari gave a snort.

“And then it got serious, and he told me…” she took a dep breath, swallowing as the lump formed in her throat “He told me that if it came to it, my heart was more than big enough to love someone else but still remember him.”

Ari glanced at her and sighed as he saw the tears trickling down her face. Automatically he reached out, his arm wrapping over her shoulders. For a moment she tensed, and Ari thought she was going to push him away but she didn’t. Instead she leaned into him slightly, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I never thought I’d find myself actually having to answer it for real.” she said, her voice broken. “Not so soon after us getting married anyway…”

Ari felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. She had said didn’t hold him responsible but still, hearing her broken voice as she spoke of Andy made him feel beyond remorseful because the simple fact remained that he was to blame for tearing her life with Andy apart, no matter how much of an accident the whole situation had been.

Eventually she sat up slightly, his arm still round her as she wiped at her face. “Sorry.”

“What for?”

“This…” she gestured to her face and Ari shook his head.

“Don’t…” he said softly “There’s no need to apologise.” he gave her shoulders a squeeze and then he had a sudden idea. “You know, seeing as it’s the first time we’ve all been together in years we should do something tonight, celebrate him a little.  A few drinks, camp fire…” “Yeah.” she smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

“Well then that’s settled.” he smiled, as his stomach gave a huge growl.

Hannah looked at him, and raised an eyebrow “El Lobo Hambriento huh.”

Ari couldn't help but smile at the use of her old nickname for him. He believed her when she had said she didn't blame him and he took her calling him The Hungry Wolf  for what it was, an olive branch of sorts. The line drawn in the sand. But he also didn’t miss the change of pronoun. She had avoided using My instead switching to The. He was once Mi Lobo Hambriento…but that was another story.

For now, the mere fact she’d called it him in any way was music to his ears. His hopes of being able to rekindle whatever friendship they both may have had once were a damned site higher than they had been. So, he let out a loud laugh and gave a sheepish grin.

“It’s been a long time since you called me that.”

She looked at him and gave him a little smile “Well, somethings never change huh?”

He held her gaze for a second before he gave a little sigh and stood up “Well, not wanting to ruin my reputation, I gotta eat…”

He offered her his hand and she took it and he pulled her to her feet. Dropping his hands back into his pockets he walked alongside her back towards the outdoor area where everyone else was sat eating.

“So I take it that it’s safe to assume, seeing as you never left, that Duran Duran’s lead Singer never showed up on your doorstep?” Ari teased and she laughed, genuinely before she looked at him.

“No.”

“His loss.” Ari said, shrugging and she smiled at him again, a genuine smile that warmed the very depth of his soul.

******

The day of the first mission rolled round, and Ari was like a coiled spring. It was planned as best it could be. They went over the maps, the plan, the route again, and their various roles. It was decided that for this one Hannah would be running with them, whilst Rachel would remain behind at base. Sammy was insisting that his sister ride with him and Ari, which Ari wasn’t bothered by in the slightest. If truth be told he was looking forward to it, but the way Hannah had rolled her eyes and merely called her brother a fucking idiot had made him chuckle.

They were fiddling with the military radios that they’d been installing in the trucks, soldering wires, tuning frequencies, Ari slotting an aerial onto his when Jake called over.

“They're on.”

“Good.” Ari nodded, jumping down from his truck, satisfied both radios were working. “Leaving here in 12 minutes!” he yelled, clapping his hands together.

“All right.” Jake called back.

Ari made his way back into the resort as Rachel dismissed the staff with a thankyou in Arabic

“What did you tell 'em?” Ari asked

“That we were scouting diving spots and that we'd be back in the morning.” she said.

“Good.” he nodded. At that point he heard some kind of vehicle trundling in the distance.

Hannah and Sammy, who were packing their medical kit also heard it. The siblings shared a glance before Sammy stood up and opened the wooden shades of the window of the hut they were in, and they both glanced out to see a bus approaching in the distance over one of the hills. Looking at one another again, they both exited and began walking across the sand. Max, who was stood by the side of the main building looked at them, waving them over before he glanced back at the approaching bus. The three of them joined Ari, Rachel and Jake at the front of the resort, Ari shooting a glance round at his team.

“You expecting someone?” Max asked.

“Roof. Now. Take the spear gun.” Ari instructed him. Max looked at Ari then down to the half-eaten sandwich in his hand. Hannah reached out and took the food off him with a grin as he rolled his eyes and jogged away to get in position.

As the bus drew closer, Ari turned his head to look up at Max who in turn stared down at him, the spear gun poised whilst the bus stopped outside the main entrance. Hannah instantly spotted the Sudan Ministry of Tourism logo on the side. The doors opened and a large man appeared, clipboard in his hand.

“Ah! Not an easy place to find.” he greeted them cheerily in a prominent German accent “You need better signage, for sure.”

Jake looked around, locking eyes with Ari who turned back to the new arrivals, his face passive as the man continued to talk. Rachel stepped forward and started to converse with him in German, Hannah tilting her head slightly to the right as she caught the odd word, enough to make her understand that Rachel was asking him what he was looking for.

The words “Red Sea Diving Resort” came across loud and clear, however, to the rest of the team and Sammy looked down, scoffing slightly, smile on his face as he shook his head.

“It is, but we are still under construction.” Rachel said, switching instantly into her cover role of Angela.

“Well, we're still months away from opening.” Ari added

“We just drove eight hours from Khartoum because of this.” the man said, his tone less friendly as he pulled out one of the diving resort brochures from his pocket “Huh?” Rachel took it from him no one quite sure what to do.

“Come, come. Alles gut. Alles gut.” the man started beckoning the people off the bus as Rachel turned and handed Ari the brochure. “Ja?”

Ari took the brochure and smiled at the man, as Hannah looked up at Max on the roof who was watching, a puzzled expression on his face as the tourists headed off the bus and into the resort.

“Show them out the back…” Ari looked at Rachel and then to Hannah. “Get them a drink, let them take in the view. In the mean-time have the staff set some of the tables out inside, and then meet us in the kitchen.”

They did as they were told, and once the loud excited chattering between guests outside made Hannah assume they were happy, Rachel nodding and laughing with a few of them, the two women headed inside, where the guys were already waiting, Max once more eating. Hannah hopped up onto one of the counters at the far side of the room, her legs gently swinging as she sat. No one said anything for a moment, Rachel standing and watching the movement in the main room through the lattice wall screen.

“Well, you have to send them home.” she said, turning to Ari.

“We can't do that.” he said as he leaned against one of the wall columns, his hand resting inside his open dark denim shirt, fisting slightly in the black T-shirt he had on underneath.

“Yes, we can. We point them in the direction of a real hotel.”  Sammy said, his back resting on the refrigerator.

“Colonel Madibbo sent them here. The last thing we need is to get complaints about this place.” Ari sighed, looking at his watch. “Fuck, we're an hour late.”

He strode forward and glanced into the room, watching as he folded his arms, running his hand over his beard.

“So what do we do?” Hannah asked, watching him.

Ari shook his head, thinking for a moment. There was really only one thing they could do.

“Check 'em in.” he said after a moments pause, his hand held out at the side of his face before he turned to look at everyone “Give ‘em rooms”

“Check them in?” Sam asked in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“Are you crazy? This is a fake hotel.” Sam shook his head.

“So fake it.” Ari pressed.

Max chuckled from behind him, and Ari turned to look at him before he spun back to face the group as Hannah spoke.

“Ari’s right.” she said gently, and Ari looked at her, surprise evident on his face. “We send them back it’s gonna open a whole can of worms and before we know it our cover is blown.” she shrugged and looked round at the team before her bright blue eyes settled on her brother’s “What else can we do?”

Sam’s mouth fell open and he turned to his sister “You’re out of your mind!” he shook his head “You’ve no idea what-“

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a kid Sammy.” she cut him off, her voice stern.

“Ok, ok, look…” Ari said, breaking up the siblings squabbling “We all knew this could happen at some point, right?” “We did?” Sammy said, sarcastically.

“I didn't.”  Jake shook his head.

“Well…” Hannah shrugged, hopping down from her perch, looking around with a soft smile “Our fake hotel just became a real one.”

[brvdleymilligan]

HLO slinks in thru a bead curtain.......... truly sry this took me so long to concoct bt i’m here now, hand on hip, smiling coyly at u all...... i’m nai n i’m rly excited to b here so i’ll just dive right in!! u can find bradley’s pinterest board here n her muse tag here. like this or hmu for plots!

[ cis female, she/her, margaret qualley , twenty-four ] i can’t be sure, but i think i just saw BRADLEY MILLIGAN drive onto the parkway. don’t they know we’re not supposed to be driving on that haunted road right now? maybe it has to do with the fact that they’re so +RESILIENT and -VOLATILE that makes them feel UNPHASED about everything going on. i guess we could also chalk it up to the fact that they’re always reminding me of LEMON IN A FRESH CUT, THE AMBER BLINK OF AN ANGRY ALLEY CAT, GRINNING WITH BLOOD ON YOUR TEETH. either way, i hope they get back safely. [ nai, she/her, 24, gmt ]

aesthetics: singeing a hole in your fishnets with the cherry of a menthol, spitting a pistachio behind the bar just to hear it ping off the nozzle top bottles, lemon in a fresh cut, a war torn poppy standing alone in an empty field, pressing thumbs to yellow bruises, stomping over flowerbeds when there’s a path right besides it, dangling over ledges just to feel your chest jolt, a snarling rottweiler that needs muzzling, limp feet poking out behind a door, ‘I PROMISE I DON’T BITE’ scrawled on a name tag, slapping a bald head in front of you at the cinema like it’s a bongo, not owning a single jacket that isn’t stolen, driving a stranger’s car down the wrong lane against the screaming traffic, hair more feral than a wolf cub and eyes smudgier than a coal mine.  

BACKGROUND:

ok SO. her father owns a strip club in crescent hill named no angels. it’s kind of.... a seedy establishment i won’t lie. hs a red glowing sign like it’s lighting up a window in amsterdam. cigarette butts floating in oil slick puddles outside. unsavoury characters crawling all over like rats in a sewer. despite this it’s a legitimate business on the surface of things n it does pretty well in trade. it’s like.... that place people warn u NOT to have ur bachelor party at unless u fancy urself the type tht willingly enters a lion’s den bt tht almost??? adds to the allure in a way??? ppl r like wow so sketchy it’s the thrill of a lifetime........ i mean run while u still can bt go off i guess

it isn’t Confirmed Public Knowledge bt it’s pretty heavily implied thru the rumour mill that bradley’s father is the head of a gang of rly............ Not Nice people. all the ppl that work for him u would hands down NOT want to run into in a dark alley. while things seem legitimate on the suface it’s pretty clear they’re into shady dealings n the townsfolk that suspect that would indeed b correct! the club’s a front for a drug business n they’re also washing n running counterfeit cash thru it. they probably also have their hands dipped into a few other local businesses to run their cash thru these too n keep it all seemingly by the books so nobody comes sniffing around. they even r friends with a member of local law enforcement that’s working w them for a cut so they honestly have all bases covered to keep things airtight n foolproof. perhaps a business in reed too which bradley oversees bt i haven’t given this Too Much thought as of yet??

so ya she’s grown up fairly local most of her life n would maybe be known around town as such.................. the milligans r certainly Interesting as far as families go so like. it honestly wldn’t surprise me if ppl nudge elbows when they see one of them coming n immediately walk in the opposite direction. just quite an intimidating presence...... they’re like caged animals where ur specifically instructed NOT to stick ur fingers between the bars bc they WILL bite

on a more personal note her dad is pretty much the worst human being alive n bradley hs like….. a lot of issues with herself as a result of years of toxicity n abuse

in terms of more family bkground info her mum’s name was alyssa n she vanished when bradley was 12. jst like…. into thin air. nothing. no note. zilch. gan! n when bradley asked her dad abt it his response was essentially “guess she didn’t love us enough to stay”. as bradley’s got older tho n become (without intention) more involved in the business side of things, it’s become pretty clear there was far more to the story.

(abuse tw) they had a horrible marriage n tony ws emotionally manipulative at the best of times, violent at worst, which didn’t help the fact tht alyssa ws struggling a lot w severe depression n rly just… not in the mindset to b dealing w anything else, even where motherhood ws concerned. bradley p much… would look after her a lot n they’d both b scared of her dad n it was just a whole unhealthy mess.

(death implied tw) anyway im rambling bt basically tony (bradley’s dad) gt wind of alyssa sleeping w men tht worked fr him n he just… got rid. bradley’s kind of worked out over the yrs tht her mum didn’t jst leave on her own accord n tht something must hav happened to her bt she’s too scared of her dad to ever directly accuse him

when her mum went all of her dad’s cruelty pretty mch got channelled straight onto her. it ws diluted between two before bt as u can probably imagine her upbringing was jst…. a steep downhill decline

(drugs implied tw) she learnt ways 2 deal w the incurring trauma bt they weren’t healthy ones at all! bsically jst. will do or take anything fr the distraction. chases a thrill like it’s the only way to remind her she’s alive. has absolutely no regard fr her own wellbeing n often gets other ppl in trouble too bc she’s so insatiably reckless

(hospitalisation tw) she hd….2 separate stints of psychiatric hospitalisation n she never tlks abt it. like ever. acknowledging she’s been vulnerable is her worst nightmare n bc of the way her dad raised her she always thinks any sign of struggling within herself is weakness. truly does…. not kno how to properly emotion

CUT TO!!!! the present. she’s currently living at the motel which is like. the least homely place she cld ever live rly but bradley loves making her life uncomfortable n doesn’t rly believe in growing sentimentally attached to anything if she cn help it <3 probably gets into arguments all the time w her neighbours it’s a whole thing.... atrocious at feeding herself has breakfasts frm the vending machine like her organs aren’t screaming fr vegetables.... plays music too loud n sometimes vanishes for days at a time without a word. she’s a lot.

i honestly feel like the murders haven’t rly phased bradley too hugely....... i won’t lie she probably genuinely is like. oh maybe it’s smthn to do w my dad. n just blinks the other way not rly that phased. on some subconscious level i think she rly just thinks........ death follows her wherever she goes n is like. this is just life for me! kind of depressing. holds her hand bt then screams n pulls away when she inevitably bites me.

PERSONALITY:

the kind of sour cherry only certain people have a taste for

once drank a bottle of whiskey, insisted she could still do a cartwheel and accidentally kicked an old man’s front tooth out in the process. proceeded 2 collapse into a flower bed and laugh so much abt it that she cried

barely takes anything seriously 50% of the time and is angry the other 50%

if she was a coffee she’d be black with five grains of sugar that you couldn’t taste until the last sip

(alcoholism tw) high functioning alcoholic. if u ever see her w a coffee cup u jst kno tht one sniff will confirm high alcohol percentage. honestly idk hw she does it her liver must b yellin

loyal to a point of fault. if she cares abt u (rare) and u murder a man in cold blood (not so rare in the broad scheme of bradley’s life) she’ll brawl anyone that says ur guilty

honestly wld probably fight a person over anything. sometimes she’ll jst be having a bad day n she’ll burst n take it out on whoever says the wrong thing. minefield!

has the worst luck in romance…. ever. ALL her past bfs hav been absolute beasts n as a result she has the ‘romance is dead n love is a lie’ mentality. definitely NOT a romantic. very cut n dry abt these things. sex is mostly just sex n she’d kind of scoff at anyone that wanted more from her

mostly wears stolen clothes from strangers and jackets that swamp her. huge chunky stomping boots with steel toe caps that would RLY bruise if they gave u a kick. hair is p much always a wild mess n she usually hs kind of smudgy/smoky makeup bcos apparently she’s allergic to combs and generally looking presentable… relatable content. the only time she rly looks put together is when she has to do something/go somewhere/see someone on behalf of her father....... he kind of uses her as a sort of. honey pot sometimes fr shit his gang get up to it’s like. not! a way u should ever utilise ur daughter but :/ i cannot stress enough how much i wna drop kick him in the neck

she’s v sarcastic. blunt. kind of has a habit of…. assessing a person n she’s quite perceptive bc she’s been trained to b by the way she always has to monitor her dad’s expression fr the slightest emotion change. she’s very confident n can p much mke a conversation out of whatever if she feels like it. independent too like she hs a bunch of (predominantly surface connection) friends bt she doesn’t care abt going out places alone n does this often. she’s probably kind of known around town bt itd b a 50/50 balance between bein known as intimidating n bein known as that one girl tht always gets into anarchy

likes: drunken snow angels that drag on so long they flirt with pneumonia, stealing cars, throwing watermelons off rooftops to watch them explode, shooting pedestrian’s with bb guns from hidden spots on rooftops. 

dislikes: telling the truth, tulips so yellow it’s like they’re gloating, playing music loud enough to fry your brain and serve it on a piece of toast, going home.

PLOTS:

someone tht works at the ‘no angels’ strip club?? either as a dancer or bartender or whtever. just a forewarning it’s probably gna b a pretty….. seedy and Not That Pleasant environment bc it’s like. a crime hotspot inevitably bc it’s a gang hangout so. ur chara wld truly be in fr a rollercoaster ride to say the least

(drugs tw) she deals coke fr her dad’s gang so perhaps ur muse buys off her

anyone….. she’s brawled in the past like. she’s literally a menace i cnt express this enough. wil jst randomly throw a drink in someone’s face fr no reason bc she’s bored. she’s probably pissed off 1000 diff ppl in 1000 diff ways. the possibilities r endless n i jst think tht’s a sexy prospect!

fwbs perhaps??? exes??? (probably ws a tumultuous relationship honestly bradley is. a handful...... it’s also rly not often she ties herself down tbh so this would maybe have to b discussed/be circumstantial/kind of rare)

mayb someone tht she met at an aa meeting when she hd to go fr a court mandated thing one time after bein arrested fr public indecency. i feel like there’s probably a rly expensive statue somewhere thts fancily sculpted n she like. did a flying kick n broke the dick of it off n gt arrested fr it

ppl she……. Goes Wild Goes Crazy w. truly jst the most self destructive person alive so anyone w a similar mindset wld b a hellish bt fun combination

on the contrary a gd influence cld b nice perhaps? like someone tht genuinely cares abt her n she jst doesn’t kno hw to compute it

maybe people who r her neighbours that live at the motel too??

OH it could b fun if ur muse runs or works at a local business maybe like. a bar? idk? n bradley n ur muse have developed a rapport bc she frequents the place n is................ a Character

um. honestly the world’s our oyster. hmu n we cn brainstorm if none of tht catches ur eye!

[autistic-stedebonnet]

A modern version of the ridge pole scene, but I got carried away

Avonlea springs were perfect in Anne’s eyes. Especially the oddly sunny days after a rainstorm, when the ground was damp and wildflowers were abundant. Today was one of those days, and Anne should’ve been tucked in a corner of the forest, her sleeves pulled up to her elbows and her usual jeans swapped for a flouncy skirt or brightly colored shorts.

But instead, she was sitting in the middle of a (thankfully, outdoor) roller rink for Jane Andrew’s 16th birthday party. Anne loved skating, and thought herself quite good at it. But she preferred to do it alone, and not in the company of Josie Pye. Despite being able to spend a whole day outside, Anne was just near the depths of despair over having to be civil towards Josie for a whole 3 hours.

At that moment, the teenagers were gathered at the picnic table, indulging in snacks and an entertaining game of truth or dare. Jane was returning from a failed attempt at skating a lap on one foot, when Josie Pye was dared by Moody to skate a few feet on the rim around the rink.

“Please,” Josie scoffed. “That’s the easiest thing ever.”

And much to Anne’s chagrin, the blonde devil completed the dare with relative ease.

Anne let out a mocking laugh upon Josie’s return. “That was nothing,” she said. “I once knew a girl who could skate the entire rim of a roller rink...” she paused for dramatic effect, “backwards.”

Both Diana and Gilbert stiffened as Josie’s bewildered expression turned into a sly smirk. “Alright then,” she hissed. “Do it.”

Anne’s eyes doubled in size and her freckled skin paled. “What.”

“Do. It,” Josie repeated, with an added air of malice.

Anne stood up steadily and narrowed her eyes at Josie. “Fine, I will.”

“Anne! You don’t have to!” Diana cried, leaping up and grasping her friend’s arm. “If you fall, it’s at least 4 feet down, you could really hurt yourself!”

“It’s a pretty wide space to work with, I’ll be fine.”

At that moment, Gilbert eased his way into the intervention. “Yes, but you won’t be able to see where you’re going.”

Anne shot daggers at the boy, his insistence only fueling the fire that was her pride. With a final huff, Anne glided over to the rink and stepped up to the rim tediously. It took her a moment to find her balance, but she hadn’t fallen.

Meanwhile, Diana was in a horrible state, already imagining her best friend in a bloody heap on the concrete. Josie Pye was stiff and pale. She hadn’t expected Anne to actually take the dare, and she was terribly afraid of the reputation she’d gain from being the cause of Anne Shirley breaking her neck.

Anne turned to face the group, keeping eye contact with a worried Gilbert. Halfway across, she stuck out her tongue and grinned. And then she stumbled. There had been a mere pebble that got caught in her wheel, but it was enough to send her barreling over the side and into a bush.

Diana shrieked as if she’d just been shot and skated over to her friend as fast as humanly possible. “Anne!” She cried out in dismay.

Lucky for Anne, she’d avoided a most horrible fate, by landing in a bush, but she still hadn’t moved. Her fiery hair enveloped her sheet white, unconscious face, and her ankle lay at a terribly worrying angle.

“Anne! Are you alright!? Are you dead?!” Afraid to shake the girl, Diana simply swept the hair from her eyes and caressed her freckled face. “Oh Anne, please don’t be dead!”

Unbeknownst to a distraught Diana, Gilbert was shoving past a huddle of children to reach Anne, his face white with shock and his entire body shaking.

Diana moved away, her mind just clear enough to recall Gilbert’s brief medical training. “Gilbert, please say she’s not dead!”

Gilbert pressed his hands to Anne’s neck, and then her wrist, breathing a shaky sigh of relief upon feeling her steady pulse. He felt her scalp for any injury, finding none. “She seems to have gone unconscious from shock,” he relayed. “But I don’t think she’s hit her head.” His eyes darted to Anne’s ankle and he winced. “She does seem to have broken her ankle,” he added. “But if an ambulance is called and we don’t jostle her, she should be fine.” He closed his eyes, blinking away tears he hadn’t realized had begun. Anne was okay. She was okay.

“Oh!” Diana yelled, startling the eerily silent crowd. “Someone needs to call the Cuthberts.” She reached into her skirt pocket, fumbling around for her phone and cursing her sweaty palms.

Once the information was given to a very frantic Marilla, and an ambulance called, the children were picked up by their respective guardians and taken home.

*

Anne regarded it as a downright tragedy that she’d be bedridden for the majority of and most glorious part of spring. She spent countless hours lamenting over all the wildflowers and rainstorms and breathtaking sunsets she’d miss whilst cooped up in her gable room. Despite Diana’s constant visits(and facetimes, and baked goods) she simply couldn’t bring herself to enjoy her time. I mean honestly, there’s only so many days one can spend doing nothing but reading and scrolling through tumblr.

Her horrific boredom however, was not even the biggest of her problems. She couldn’t bear the thought of Gilbert Blythe stealing her hard-earned spot as top of the 10th grade. The utter humiliation would fuel her rage for weeks to come. But she tried not to focus on that possibility, instead pouring all of her energy into assignments her teachers had emailed her and occasionally craning her neck towards the window in hopes of seeing how many flowers had grown recently.

When, 4 weeks later, Anne was able to return to school (on crutches), there was only a month left until summer break, but nonetheless, she was determined to leave that year with the prize of top student. Not that they handed out prizes, but the mere knowing that she’d beat Gilbert was enough for her.

Anne did the closet thing to leaping she was capable of to get out of bed, already having laid out her clothes the night before.

She relished the feeling of simply being able to sit at her mirror and pull her auburn locks into twin braids. She let her gaze fall onto a mass of purple lilacs, almost hiding beneath the plethora of cards and flowers on her desk, and her breath caught. She loved lilacs, more than anything. But she didn’t recall being brought them. What she did know however, is that purple lilacs symbolize ‘first love.’ She shook the ridiculous thought from her mind. Lilacs are a beautiful flower and whoever brought them was just being kind, she reminded herself. The meaning of flowers is not common knowledge.

“Marilla?” Anne sang as she precariously made her way down the steps.

Marillas face went deathly pale upon seeing Anne. “For heavens sake child!” She cried. “What are you doing? I told you to wait for Matthew to come and help you down the stairs!”

Anne scowled as Marilla placed a frantic arm around her back and assisted her down the staircase. “I’m not completely incapable, Marilla.” She muttered.

“Yes, but you have a broken ankle.” Marilla pursed her lips and pulled a chair out for Anne. “I’m still convinced that you should just do work from home for the remainder of the year.”

“And let Gil- everyone else get ahead of me?!”

“I thought you and Gilbert were friends now?”

Anne shrugged and sunk down further into her seat, grumbling a response. “I suppose we’re friendly. But that does not dissuade me from beating him... fair and square of course.”

The two sat in silence, two soon becoming three upon being joined by Matthew.

Anne was the one to finally break the quiet. She had come to absolutely despise the lack of noise after being stuck in her bed for 3 weeks. “Who left the lilacs?” She questioned. “I’m sure they weren’t there yesterday. But I’ve been brought so many flowers, I could’ve missed them.” She looked up at Marilla expectantly.

“Gilbert brought those by yesterday morning.” She replied, as if she hadn’t just delivered the most ground breaking news ever. “You were asleep, so I brought them up to your room.”

At this, Anne almost choked on her toast. “Gil-Gilbert?!” She cried. “Gilbert Blythe brought me purple lilacs?”

Marilla raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I don’t see what’s gotten you so worked up. All of your other friends brought you flowers.”

Anne’s eyes were still wider than the plate clutched in her whitening hands. Her face resembled a sheet of paper and her mouth hung open, as if she expected the words to just fall off of her tongue. “Gilbert,” she finally squeaked. “Gilbert Blythe brought me purple lilacs.”

“For goodness sake child,” Marilla sighed. “Do calm yourself. Hurry and finish your breakfast so Matthew can drive you to school. I won’t have you walking all that way in such a state.”

Anne however, did not finish her breakfast. Nor did she utter a word until she arrived in her English classroom.

“Diana, I think I am going to quite literally die on the spot,” Anne groaned, dropping her head into her arms.

“Why is that?”

“Gilbert Blythe brought me purple lilacs!” Anne spat, her tone making it seem like Diana should know the importance of purple lilacs.

“And...”

“And do you know what purple lilacs symbolize?”

“No.” Diana paused, expecting Anne to explain why she was so devastated over some flowers. Gaining no response, she encouraged the disheartened redhead. “Care to tell me?”

This earned her a terribly theatric sigh. “I couldn’t bear the humiliation. Google it.”

One google search and a whole lot of squealing-on Diana’s part-later, Gilbert Blythe walked into the classroom, seemingly oblivious to Diana’s smirking.

“Morning Gilbert!” Diana chirped. She gave an all too obvious point to a pouting Anne and grinned at Gilbert’s flushed cheeks.

“I-um, morning Diana, Anne.”

If it were even possible, Anne’s head seemed to sink farther into her folded arms, until all that was visible was less than an inch of her scarlet hair.

Diana waited impatiently for Gilbert to take his seat, before turning and whispering to Anne, “Anne, please say you’ll admit your feelings now.”

A muffled “no” escaped Anne’s tiny hideout.

Diana opened her mouth to give well-meaning, but harsh and probably embarrassing advice, but Ms. Stacy spoke first.

“Because of the many up-coming exams, we’re going to take a bit of a break today.” She paused and waited for the cheering to end. “But don’t think that means we won’t be hitting the books tomorrow. I just mean to let you all have a breather.” She clapped her hands together excitedly and pulled a stack of paper and a large jar of flowers from her desk.

Anne, who had lifted her head just enough to see her teacher’s face, went white. She didn’t even dare look over at Gilbert, but Diana’s stifled snickering told her that he was probably just as pale as herself.

“Diana.” Anne hissed once Ms. Stacy had finished a explaining the activity. “I don’t know how, but you did this.”

Diana simply smiled innocently and prompted Anne to read her poem.

“Of course.”

She’d been given a poem that was simply titled “Love”, and below it, written in Ms. Stacy’s neat and concise script: ‘First love’

Diana glanced over at her friend, and was surprised to see that she’d grown even paler. “What’s wrong? What’s your flower meaning? It should be at the bottom of the-“ She cut herself off with a sharp breath. “Oh. Oh! Anne this is so romantic!”

Anne shook her head vigorously. “It is not!” She protested. “And besides, he probably just has a daisy or something stupid like that.”

“So you admit that you considered the possibility that Gilbert might be standing on the other side of the room holding, once again, a purple lilac.”

“I did not consider it, not even once,” Anne huffed. She twirled a delicate daffodil between her thumb and forefinger and hummed lightly. “Now to find someone with a poem about ‘regard and unequalled love.’ Just peachy.”

“Of course you already know what a daffodil means.” Diana rolled her eyes and skipped away, leaving Anne to avoid Gilbert all alone.

Anne shuffled along the edges of the cramped classroom, doing the closest thing she could to turning on her injured heel anytime a certain boy made to approach her. She ignored the pounding in her heart upon seeing him clutching a thin branch sprouting dozens of delicate, lavender-hued blooms. She pushed away the tiny voice in the back of her head that told her that even if he didn’t know yesterday, he certainly knew now, what a stupid purple lilac meant. And most of all, she refused to meet his adoring, slightly pained gaze.

“Anne-“

“Uh-I think Diana needs me.” Anne limped away at an alarmingly fast speed, her heart begging to simply fly from her tightening chest.

“Anne, Diana’s in the bathroom.”

Anne winced and cursed under her breath, before clumsily turning around. “Fine, what is it?”

Gilbert looked almost hurt, but he seemed to shake off the feeling quick enough. “I just wanted to see your poem, I haven’t found one that matches my...” he pointed at the flowers in his hand and Anne nodded curtly.

“Ok.” She all but shoved the scrap of paper into his face, before dipping her head down, her eyes boring into the cheap carpet.

It seemed like several, agony-filled hours before Gilbert cleared his throat hesitantly. Anne’s gaze stayed fixated on her shabby boots, a lump rising in her throat.

“I-uh... here.”

Anne looked up to see him holding out the flowers, his hand just barely clinging onto them.

She stayed frozen, her eyes flashing up and down from the flowers to his eyes that made her stomach flip. His expression was so very hopeful and pained, it seemed that he was reaching for something he knew he’d never find. But there was something else, something else that had been there for years but Anne had been too stubborn to see it.

Just as suddenly as her thoughts had drifted off, they came back to reality. Anne jerked her head to the side momentarily, before adjusting her crutches in a futile attempt to take the flowers from Gilbert’s hands.

Realizing her struggle, Gilbert set the blooms on her desk. “Can i see your, um, your flower?”

Anne was seconds away from unknowingly crushing the yellow petals when he said this. “I, I doubt that-“

“Can I just-“

“Fine, just, take it.” Anne thrust her hand out towards Gilbert, her breath hitching in panic upon seeing the worry flit over his hazel eyes.

“Anne, you, you’ve been digging your nails into your palm,” he breathed.

Anne tore her hand from his tender grasp, hardly even realizing that he was twirling the daffodil between his calloused fingers.

“Just a bad habit,” she muttered, still determined not to meet his gaze.

“Right, well-“

“Anne, Gilbert, please sit down, everyone’s found their flowers already.”

Anne and Gilbert’s heads shot up in unison, their eyes guiltily meeting those of a thoroughly amused Ms.Stacy.

“I do believe we have enough time to recite our poems then,” she declared.

Oh no. Oh this was the worst of it all. This, this was an utter catastrophe. Anne settled into her seat, her pale cheeks burning very uncooperatively. And why, oh why on Earth was Gilbert staring at her as he spoke? Why was his gaze so unbelievably affectionate?

As he spoke, so much more eloquently than he ever had, Anne came to the same realization she had a week ago. The same realization that had caused her to call Diana sobbing and continue to do so for what felt like hours. A realization that was so powerful, so so painfully obvious, that it scared her.

It scared her 13 year old self, who was cold to one of the few people who didn’t judge her harshly, simply because she was desperate for friends.

It scared her 15 year old self, who’d warily accepted a true, real friendship, despite the voice in her head and the fluttering in her stomach.

It terrified her, because she didn’t know what to do with it. For her entire life, she’d convinced herself that she wasn’t worthy of love, especially not that kind. It had been difficult to accept that even Diana loved her, but this was something entirely new. This was like a thrashing, rolling wave, that had been chasing after her for years and had finally toppled downwards and stolen her from what she’d come to know and accept.

So, Anne did what Anne always did when she was scared. She ran. Well, metaphorically, considering her ankle. And no, she didn’t just leave the classroom, she was smart enough not to risk Marilla’s wrath. More, she waited for the moment when Ms. Stacy released her five minutes early and was out the door as fast as possible.

She managed to scrape through the day without a conversation with Gilbert, however arduous and shockingly painful it was.

And of course, right before she could step inside her house and let out a huge sigh of relief, she heard those dreaded footsteps behind her. She really hated that she knew it was him before even turning around.

“Gilbert, I’m not in the mood,” she snapped, her back still facing him. She could hear Gilbert take a shaky breath and for a moment, she almost felt bad.

“I-I know,” he said. “I just didn’t want to... not explain myself.”

“What explaining do you have to do?” Anne was facing him now, hoping he couldn’t see the panic behind her raging eyes.

“I, um, the flowers.”

“Flowers. Right.” She nodded curtly. “It was nice of you, I should’ve thanked you at school. Is that all?”

Gilbert furrowed his eyebrows and gaped at her slightly. “I- no, no it’s not all, Anne what did I do?” The last part was choked and soft, and Anne almost felt bad.

She caved.

“You didn’t do anything, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, I shouldn’t have been so rude- can we sit?”

He nodded and helped her up the wooden porch steps. They settled onto the cramped bench, knees and elbows brushing inconveniently.

“Are you alright?”

She hated how sincere, how worried he sounded. And she hated that this wasn’t new, that this was always how he spoke to her. Sincere, genuine, caring. Why was this so difficult?

Anne shut her eyes momentarily, gathering her thoughts and her courage, before speaking.

“In books, characters always know,” she paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. “They don’t have to battle the voices in their head or the anxiety in their stomach. They always know what to say, and how, when to say it.”

“Books aren’t real life.”

“I know that, I do, but I wish that it was easier to say this.”

“Easier to say...what?” His tone told her that he already knew, he just wanted to hear it.

She wiped at the tears pricking the corners of her stormy eyes. “Easier to say everything, really. In books, in my imagination as well, everyone knows their heart and is able to bear it with seemingly no trouble.”

“Anne...”

“Please, let me finish.”

He nodded and went quiet.

“They don’t have to... they don’t have to worry that the other person will be...disgusted. But, but I’m not-“ she cut herself off, her words caught in her throat. “I’m not a book character, and this isn’t easy. I’m just... I’m just Anne. I’m not pretty, or well dressed, or interesting. The only thing I have is my smarts and my imagination, and I cling to that. I suppose it’s difficult to accept the possibility of there being more for me. Things I always told myself, and was always told I’d never have.” Her last few words were almost lost to the wind, just barely tumbling out before she collapsed into a heap of sobs.

Gilbert pulled her towards him, letting her bury her head in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, grounding her.

When she pulled away, breath evened and face red and splotchy, he took a chance.

He reached out and brushed his hand against her cheek gently, as if afraid it would shatter beneath his touch. “Anne,” he whispered. “You are the most beautiful-“

She scoffed.

“Really,” Gilbert continued. “You are so incredibly stunning, but that’s only one of the many reasons I’m so drawn to you. You’re so smart and creative, and incredibly compassionate. You always stand up for what you believe in and never back down, which is very admirable of you.”

Their faces were mere inches apart now, but there was still a wall between them. No longer the brick wall it was many years ago, or bulletproof glass from a month ago. It was a sheet of stained glass, so broken, so fragmented, that it would shatter with one small nudge.

“Anne, I love you, because you are you, and I would not have you any other way.”

That was the nudge. Anne’s walls fell down and revealed a vulnerability she didn’t even know she had. “You-you love me?”

“Of course, how could I not?”

Her bottom lip quivered slightly. “I- I never dreamed that someone would, could love me in that way.” She gazed up into his hazel eyes, trying desperately to capture every emotion, every meaning behind them.

The wall was gone, for the first time ever, there was nothing stopping them.

As equals, they moved to close the gap between them. There was a split-second of fear, but that melted away like sunlight dripping onto flower petals doused in morning dew. It seemed cheesy to say, but it was as if this was destiny, as if some part of something had been predetermined, and this was meant to be.

Anne had always dreamt of first kisses. She never thought hers would happen with her eyes still stinging from tears, her ankle broken, sitting on the Green Gables porch, and with Gilbert Blythe. But you could ask her many years from now, and she would attest to the fact that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[strongsassysexysloane]

Ain’t Life a B*tch - Chap 7

Well I want to apologise for the mistakes because ive rewritten this chapter a few too many times now and I can look at it anymore so I’m positing it instead. 

. . . . 

It wasn't the most peaceful sleep but you managed to sleep all the way through apart from the random check up in the early hours of the morning when the Doctors changed over. You weren't very coherent then to remember much of what happened but you do remember Jack was still sitting in the visitor's chair just like she is now. The lights were dimmed but you could see the sunlight shining under the curtains, it was probably still too early to be awake but no one ever slept right in a hospital. Jack was purring away still asleep in the chair with her feet stretched out in front of her. It reminded you of a time back in San Diego where you'd both fallen asleep at your desks at work and your boss had barged in slamming down coffees on your desks, waking you up. You'd both woken up with stiff necks and sore lower backs but the boss didn't want to hear it. That was the first and last time he bought you both coffees.  

The breakfast trolley came by not long after, giving you a tray with strawberry yoghurt, toast with butter and some kind of jam to spread on. It wasn't much but you weren't expecting a three-course meal. Hopefully you'd be out of here by this afternoon and would pick up a pizza on the way home. There was a possibility of it coming right back up again but it would be so worth the taste on the way down. You laughed at that disgusting thought just as you saw Jack shift.

That's when Jack woke up, the smell of food and coffee bringing her out of her slumber. She probably heard your thought of pizza as well. "Coffee?"

You smirk at her first words. "Not enough sugar for your liking." There was barely enough sugar for your liking.  

"I'll go get some from the cafeteria and check in with your team."

You watch as she stretches, twists from side to side. Most likely working out a kink in her back. "It's 0630 Jack. No need to wake my team up."  

"Right. Coffee then." She hops up, bending over to touch her toes and then back up, placing her hands on her hips.  

"Get some breakfast while you're at it." Jack salutes you and you laugh at her poor attempt at one before she walks out of the room. You wished she had gone home but part of you were glad she had stayed.  

She was gone a while, enough time for the Doctor to come in and check on you. "Everything seems fine. I'd like you to stay another 24 hours just in case. Concussions, especially because you blacked out for a short time can be varying."  

"I know Doc. Not my first rodeo."

"Then I definitely should keep you in for another 24 hours." He looked over your charts again before slipping it back on the hanger at the end of your bed.  

"But you don't have to, right?"

"This isn't a flea market in Thailand. We don't bargain down hospital stays."  

You sigh slumping back into your pillows. You really couldn't take spending a whole day and another night in here. "Come on Doc, I'm fine. Heads pounding less, got a reasonable full night sleep. Kept down some food. Haven't harassed the hospital team - yet."  

"Threats won't work, y/n. You need to stay another 24 hours, you need to be under someone's care just in case."

"Someone's care, so not technically a nurse or doctor." You were slowly forming a plan. You half told the truth, your head was still pounding, just not as bad as yesterday.  

"You got someone who can look after you for the next 48 hours?"  

"I can."

Your gut dropped. You weren't even aware that Jack had come back into the room. Let alone thinking about her looking after you. You were going to call a friend and ask them to check in on you every hour, not stay with you permanently. "Jack you don't-"

"I won't let you leave unless someone promises to be with you for the next 48 hrs. No exceptions."  

"I'll do it Doc. I can work from my laptop. Plus, I've put up with her complaints and seductions before."  

The last part threw you off. She was smirking, sassing you. She hadn't sassed you in over five years. That part left when you broke her heart, since when had it returned?  

"Alright Agent Sloane. I'd like to keep her here until 1200 just to be sure and then I'll release her into your custody."

"Hello, Hi. Do I get a say in this?"

"Would you rather stay here?"

You pout. Both of them looking at you with amused expressions. "No. Fine." You huff causing your audience to laugh and Jack follows the doctor out. Probably talking about what she needs to watch out for and do for you. This was a horrible idea.  

The morning went quickly, Jack went back home and to NCIS to check in on things and talk to the Director on her new assignment which gave you a few hours to over think and figure out how the next two days were going to work. Jack came back in just after the Doctor was discharging you and ready to drive you home. The ride home was awkward to say the least, for you. You weren't in the mood to talk and she'd easily picked up on that. You hated this arrangement but here you were. She'd packed an overnight bag so even if you had managed to convince Jack to go home for the night, it wasn't happening now.  

"I can sleep on the couch and you can take the bed." It didn't make sense when you thought it but ended up saying it anyway.

"Absolutely not. You will sleep in your own bed as it's yours and you're the one with the concussion. Don't be silly." She sighed. "I know this was a rash decision on my part and I should've asked you first but did you really want to stay at the hospital another night?"

The situation wasn't ideal but if you were being honest with yourself this could be a good thing. This was the most you had talked to Jack in years and this could be the turning point in your newfound friendship due to your injury. You just didn't want to get your hopes up. "Look Jack, I'm thankful that you offered and are doing this. Just trying to wrap my head around why the sudden change and how the next 24 hours is going to work."  

"48."  

"What?"  

"48 hours."  

"You aren't staying two nights."

She turned to look at you properly when she pulled up at the red light and smirked at how adamant you were. "Watch me."  

"Fine. Hopefully the couch will be sufficient enough." You look back out the passenger side window as the car turned down your street. "Thank you." You whispered because you really were grateful for her even though this situation was going to be hell.  

"Of course."  

She pulls up her car along the curb in front of your building and runs around to help you out of the car but you push her away. "Jack, I can walk by myself."  

"I just don't want you to fall and have to drive you back to the hospital. It really is a long way."  

Her joke does what it's meant to and you smile. So maybe this would actually work out and you were over thinking all the ways it could go wrong. "Would be such a hassle."  

She smiles along with you but grabs your bag along with her overnight bag before you can protest and runs ahead of you. "Can't get the bag if you can't catch me."

"Such a child."  

Jack laughs and the sound wave hits you right in the chest. That sound always made you smile and melt on the inside, now it had the opposite effect. It tore at your heart because it was such a rare thing to hear, you making her laugh.

She opened the door to your apartment and dropped both bags near the foot of the couch and turned to watch you stumble into the room. "You sure you don't need me for balance?"

"I'm fine." You don't convince her by leaning against the wall because you were slightly out of breath from the short walk up the stairs and into your apartment. "I will be." Which was closer to the truth and Jack nods in response. "Now, bathroom is down the hall on the right, linen closet is the door on the left. Kitchen well you can see where that is and help yourself to anything. Other than coffee and some frozen pizza. There isn't much there I'm afraid."  

"What happened to you cooking all the time?"

"Don't get much time lately, wanted to get back into it but there's not much fun in it when you're only cooking for yourself."

"Since when did that stop you? You loved creating meals even for yourself." Her hands shifted to her hips, trying to make more of a point but you weren't in the mood for this to turn into an argument that she would win.  

You shrug finally finding the strength to shift and move a few steps to fall not so gracefully onto your couch. "Guess times change."  

"That's for sure. Mind if I freshen up?"

"Go for your life. I didn't get the chance to clean so apologies if it's a mess or anything." All the possibilities of what she could find in your bathroom sprang to mind. Did you put away the vibrator? You might've prayed a little to someone to make sure you had because she was down the hall before you could change your mind.  

"Nothing I haven't seen before." She threw back and you smiled. You had practically lived together for a month or so before the inevitable heart break.  

To your surprise and you assume Jack's as well, the rest of the day was quite simple. You lounged on the couch watching tv while Jack sat legs crossed in the armchair and did some work on her laptop. It wasn't until dinner time that Jack insisted on get takeout and paying that a small argument happened but your head was pounding again so you just let her win.  

"Wow the concussion is really working in my favour."  

"If by your favour you mean getting two days out of work and babysitting me then yes, your favour."  

"Take these and shut up." She walked back over with a glass of water and your medication.

Dinner was spent mostly in silence while you both watched TV. You weren't really concentrating on tv though because fuzzy memories were starting to come back. From the breach and moments in the hospital you forgot because you were high on painkillers. One particular memory you weren't sure about. You tried to convince yourself it must've been a drug fuelled dream but weren't 100% sure that was the case.  

You'd been working up the courage to ask Jack when she decided to clean up the dishes from dinner and have a shower. It was probably for the best, gave you more time to over think it and make sure you were actually sure this was a conversation you wanted to have tonight when she was going to be at least staying for another one. You didn't want to make things awkward again. They'd been somewhat pleasant for the past few hours. But the feeling was there.  

"Acted, yes. Felt, no?" You repeated and this time out loud.  

"What did you say?"  

You jumped and tweaked your side causing you to roll over in pain. "Ow."

"Sorry!" She rushed to your side, crouching down in front of the couch. "Maybe it's time you went to bed."

You nod and try and straighten yourself out as best you can. Your side was still hurting from the sudden movement but you knew it was best to go to bed and ignore the reason why this happened in the first place. "All the linen you'll need is in the closet. I'd help but -"

"No need. Go sleep." She smiled but you could see her eyes were searching again. She clearly hadn't forgotten what you'd said but you weren't going to break the ice now.  

"Night."

"Good night."  

Your dream wanted to curse you. They made you relive the hostage situation over and over and the last one your mind decided to be a cruel trickster. You weren't in the building, instead it was Jack inside and you on the megaphone. Everything played out the same. You gave the order to breach and came rushing in after S.W.A.T and found Jack on the floor covered in blood. She was gasping for air and you had tears running down your face.  

"Stay with me Jack! Jack!" You yelled but she was slipping away, her breaths becoming more and more shallow. "Jack!"

"Hey!" A sharp voice rung in your ear, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder but when you looked around no one was there. "You're having a nightmare." The voice whispered and you shook your head. It was a living nightmare. "Wake up." The squeeze to the shoulder was a bit more forceful this time and a grace to your cheek had you squeezing your eyes shut. When you opened them again you were in your room, the lamp was on and Jack was sitting on your bed beside you. Her hand was cupping your cheek, wiping away a tear that escaped. "Hey." She whispered, running her thumb across your cheek one last time before pulling away.  

"Sorry I-"

"Want to talk about it?"  

"Nightmare."  

"I got that much. You shouted my name?"  

"You were in the bank, I came in behind SWAT and you were gasping for breath on the floor and then you-"  

"It was just a nightmare." Her hand cupped your cheek again and you couldn't help but lean into it just to make sure she was really here. "I'm right here." She could always read you like a book.  

"Jack in the hospital, you - "

"Acted, yes. Felt, no."

"I wasn't just dreaming that?"  

"Well you might've been with the state you were in but no. I said those words."  

"What did you mean by.. it?" At that question she got up, making herself pace back and forth in your bedroom because it was the middle of the night and neither of you were prepared for this conversation right now. But it just felt like the time to ask.  

"Does it really have to be said?"

"Answering my question with a question.."  

"Don't do that."

"Use your deflection tricks against you." You sigh, raising your left arm and tucking in behind your head. "If you don’t want to or can't I -"

"You don't understand. I was so angry for a long time. I hated you for most of it." She stopped pacing for a second to look at you but you didn't say anything. You couldn't, you needed her to finish her thought. "You broke my walls down but then broke me as well. The one person I trusted not to do that to me and you did." She choked and sat back down on the bed, tears falling down her cheeks and she buried her head in her hands.  

You were expecting an admission, even anger directed at you but you weren't expecting this. It broke your heart all over again to see her like this. Like the day you left. You tried your best to sit up in bed but the pain to your side and leg were too painful. Jack felt you shift and immediately put a hand on your thigh to still your movements. "I'm sorry. I'll say it til the day I die to let you know how sorry I am for that night."  

"I wish I tried harder to get you to stay or-"  

"Jack you have nothing to be sorry for. That decision was all me. I put my career first and didn't want to drag you along with it. I was going to be gone for months on end and didn't want to leave you-"

"You left like I was never a reason to stay." The words just slipped out, like she'd been holding onto them for five years and finally had the chance to say them.

You could feel the tears building up again, the corner of your eyes becoming blurry. "I left because I needed to and you deserved better."

Tears still rolling down her face, you moved your hand up to wipe them away but she moved away. Her hand coming up to wipe them away herself. "I deserved a chance to give us a try."  

"Yes you did and I'll regret letting you go and pushing you away for the rest of my life." You'd regretted it the moment you did it and saw her walking away but you'd made your bed and you had to sleep in it for the next five years.

Jack yawns, trying her best to hold it in but you can't help but yawn as well. "I should go back to sleep." Her walls were back, the only evidence of her emotional breakdown was her tear stained cheeks.  

"Jack.. I really am sorry."  

"I know." She nods, standing up and fidgeting with the hem of her top. "Try and get some sleep. I'll be down the hall if you need anything."  

You just nodded and then she was gone. The emotions from the last few minutes still swirling around in your head. Did that all just really happen? You slump back into your pillows and shut your eyes, willing sleep to come but it never did. The clock on your bedside table read 0345 and you groaned. This was going to be a long few hours battling with your thoughts.  

At some point you must've drifted off because the loud clash from the kitchen had your eyes springing open and your head pounding. You sat up slightly, propping yourself the best you could on your pillows.  

Jack walked into your bedroom moments later and saw you were awake and concerned. "Sorry, just misplaced a glass in the sink." She placed a fresh glass of water on the bedside table and handed you your medication.  

You took it and relaxed back into the pillows. Jack walked out of the room and with that the memories of early this morning flashing back through your mind. This was going to be a long day. Who was going to break first? Or were you both going to do what you did best, ignore it ever happened.  

Ignoring it was. You managed to get out of bed once the pain medication kicked in and even slipped into the shower for a moment to yourself before getting changed and joining Jack in the lounge room. She was curled up in the armchair with her laptop and a cup of coffee.  

"Want me to get you something for breakfast?"  

"There's nothing in that kitchen other than coffee and maybe some milk, Jack."  

"Look again." You saw her smirk before you wondered into the kitchen and saw a new box of cereal, bread and brownies on the counter. "Alex called this morning asking how you were and if you needed anything. I asked if she could pick up some necessities."  

This only reminded you that you needed to call your team. Alex was sweet for checking in, the fact that she called Jack instead of you was something though. "Brownies are necessities now?"  

"They are when you have nightmares early in the morning."  

"Right." You agree before picking up at brownie and returning to the couch. The calories didn't count when you felt like this, that would just be cruel.  

Jack smirked seeing you choosing the brownie for breakfast. "There's more milk in the fridge as well as some cheese, bacon and butter."  

"You planning on making something Jack?" There was nothing about that list that was healthy and it made you smile. Same old Jack if she wasn't getting take out, she was making comfort food. There was one night early in your previous relationship that she made you dinner and there were some green vegetables on your plate. You wouldn't stop teasing her about it for the next week which ended with her elbow in your side and later her legs around your -

"Which leads me to the macaroni I found in the back of the cupboard."

Your prayers were answered. It was one of your favourite meals and no one could make it the same as Jack Sloane. "Ah, Mac and Cheese."  

The brownie was scrumptious and the perfect breakfast after the night you had. The nightmares you could remember. Unlike a nice dream, nightmares you could always remember. You distracted yourself with a book for a while and then found a movie to watch and fall asleep to. Thankfully this time you just saw darkness, no dreams, no nightmares and were woken up to the sound of Jack moving around in the kitchen a few hours later. You didn't move, just looked over at Jack and watched her.  

There were those feelings again. Bubbling up to the service, they really hadn't died down since last night or when you heard her voice over the megaphone, come to think of it they hadn't been far below the service since you walked up those stars all those months ago and there was Jack Sloane. She was here, after all that had happened and doing her best to ignore you, avoid you, she was here. She hadn't hesitated when offering to look after you and take you home, she hadn't backed out when she could've and now, she was cooking in your kitchen like she was meant to be there.  

The image made you smile as she prepared the mac and cheese. The conversation from last night flooded your mind and how it was still left hanging. Did you make a mends? It was a step in the right direction, you hoped.  

"You know staring is rude."  

You couldn't help but laugh. How long had she known you were awake? Probably the whole time, she was just that good. "Just enjoying the view." It was so cheesy and you hoped cute as well. If it didn't then you could always fall back on the concussion as an excuse.  

Jack turned and gave you a wink before turning back to the stove. "Think that explosion hit you a little harder than you've been letting on."

You laughed, shifting back down onto your back lifting your hands behind your head. She was thankfully in a sassy mood today. You flicked back through the channels and not finding anything satisfying to watch you turned to Netflix.  

She walked into the lounge room and sat down in her chair. It was now her chair. "I watched that a few months ago." She commented as you clicked on Dead to Me.

"New season just dropped last week. Want to watch?" You quite enjoyed the first season, it was a bit dark but funny. Not to mention the slight crush you had on Judy.  

The mac and cheese was crisping in the oven and was smelling delicious as you enjoyed the first episode and you watched the second episode enjoying the creamy heavenly meal. There definitely was something different to her mac an cheese and you were determined to get the recipe from her, one day. That was the realisation there. You wanted Jack in your life, not just right now but in the future, far in the future. You had started something last night and she had finished it or just put a cork in it for now. Was now the right time? Was there ever a right time? Time was usually wasted trying to figure that out and then before you know it, it's gone all together.  

"Just speak."  

"You're too good -." Of course, she’d caught you thinking, probably staring but some days you could’ve sworn she could read minds.  

"Pause the show first."  

You laugh and hit pause before shifting to face Jack a bit more. She's in the armchair with a mug of coffee in her hands and her feet tucked under her. You take a deep breath and try and pick up where you finished last night. "Last night.. We said some things, admitted more things and seeing you this morning. It just feels right." The words were all wrong and didn't sound at all the way you wanted them to but how were you meant to ask her out again? Like she would even give you another shot but the way she was watching you, the softness in her eyes. It was a look you hadn't seen in a while. "How do you feel Jack?"

Her eyes didn't leave yours, searching, she was always searching. Something she probably couldn't help from her profession. "That this, us has been considerably easier than I thought it would be."  

"Minus all the tears and heartbreak from last night." You watched as she tensed again, she was trying her best to keep her emotions under control but her eyes were welling up. Her emotions always seemed to be right on the service around you lately, probably because of all the high stress and no space.  

"It was needed."

"Definitely was."  

Jack diverted her eyes, wiping a tear away before placing her hands together and looking back at you through her long lashes. "So where does this leave us then, y/n?"

"Where do you want to be, Jay?" You knew the use of that nickname would soften her and you watched as the emotion washed over her. The memories of when you used it in the past and all the happy moments it brought up. She softened in front of you, her shoulders relaxed as she took a deep breath.  

"I want us to be able to be friends again. To go to the farmers markets on the weekends, to chat at the office, to chat about anything to each other. What do you want y/n?" Her eyes were searching yours, hoping you'd want the same.  

Your head was pounding, the painkillers were starting to wear off and you'd need to take some more soon but that wasn't important right now. Jack had just laid it all out on the table for you, you could tell she wasn't telling you the whole truth. How could she? You'd ripped her heart out before and could never make up for that but maybe, just maybe one day you'd get close.  

"I want to have all those things and more. I want to run my hand through your hair because I can, I want to trace the lines in your hands just to feel close to you, I want to just look into your eyes and see the possibility there, I want to trace my fingers over your soft skin any chance I get. I want you Jack. I never stopped wanting you." Drawing in a shaky breath as you watch a tear roll down her cheek. One would've rolled down yours as well but the headache was too painful for you to be able to concentrate on anything else. You were surprised you managed to get the words out.

She got up from her seat and joined you on the couch. Her hand cupping your cheek and drawing you in. You sucked in a breath, your heart pounding so hard because you couldn't believe it and before you could say anything her lips met yours. You both just stayed there for a minute, not moving because one if you did your head might explode and two you just didnt want to. This was perfect, you didn't need a deep, tongue driven kiss. You felt her emotions, the way she brought her other hand up to cup your other cheek and the tears that flowed from her. She was a mess but hopefully she was your mess now. You wrapped your hands around her waist and pulled her close. She broke the kiss and placed another one on your forehead.  

"I hate to break up this out of the universe moment but I really need more pain meds or I'm going to chop my head clean off my body." You sigh, feeling Jack's hands leave your face, you close your eyes as she goes and collects the meds and a glass of water.  

And it was really that simple. When she brings you the water and meds, she doesn't leave your side, even insists you move over so she can slip in beside you. The rest of the day and night spent watching Dead to Me wrapped up in each other's arms. She wouldn't stop touching you after that and you wouldn't dare stop her. You both fall asleep on the couch, mostly because you didn't dare move once you heard her snoring. You tried to wake Jack once years ago from a peaceful sleep and regretted it for a week.  

The next morning you wake up to the smell and comfort of Jack wrapped around you and your nose pressed firmly into the base of her neck. "Morning." You mumble with a smile.  

She wrapped her arms tighter around your waist at the sound of your voice. "Morning." She breathed, placing a kiss to your cheek.  

Just like that life was right again. She took care of you for the rest of the day until you forced her out, only for her to get more clothes and check in on her apartment and then she came right back. You hardly spent a night apart unless you had a long case then she'd stay at her place but most weekends off were spent together and you started cooking again. The biggest reward was seeing her huge smile when you made her favourites and her moans of pleasure while eating usually lead to other activities. Sure, it wasn't perfect all the time, she was Jack Sloane after all but no one was perfect. Life was a bitch and in your profession that was evident almost every day.

. . . . 

There we have it. That’s all she wrote. Hopefully it was worth the wait. 

[korpuskat]

Summary: He’s dangerous. The thought whispers in the back of your skull. You smother it. Overreacting. He’s scared. He didn’t hurt you. You couldn’t have brought someone dangerous into your house. You’re smarter than that. You glance to him, and find him sitting down on your couch again, watching the TV. Please, fuck, be smarter than that. Rating: Explicit (sexual content) WC: 7,785 Warnings: Soft citrus content, threatening/controlling/inappropriate/intrusive behavior from Michael, implicit violent threat to Reader >Chapter 1 >Chapter 2 >Chapter 3 >Chapter 4   >Chapter 5 >Chapter 6 >Chapter 7 >Epilogue

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You open your eyes already tired, bouts of wakefulness left you with broken sleep and the acute knowledge you were not alone. Even in the absolute dark, you felt him. You blink and rub your eyes, try to bring some alertness back to yourself before you sit up.

He sits in a chair at the corner of your room, the white latex illuminated in the low morning light that slips between your blinds. He watches as you rise; there’s no intensity to his mask this time, no hard line to his shoulders. You meet where his eyes should be, too tired to discern why he’s in your room this morning.

Should be obvious; he came in your underwear.

He’s watching you sleep.

That should be so much more concerning than it is, but in a way… You can’t help but like him. It’s nice to get attention, even if it’s so very different than what you had wanted. He’s demanding sometimes, and scary- but he wanted you. And as much as you want to ignore it, want so desperately to focus on the fact that he’s been so horrible injured- you want him, too. You’d dreamed of a real relationship one day, the kind with dinner dates and flowers, but you can’t really complain about whatever it is that’s happening between you and your stranger.

You were circling the drain; sooner or later you’d fall in, but for now the dance you had around each other was… new. Unique. Something so different than the normal dreary aspects of life, the closest you’ve come to romance. You just had to wait until he was well enough, until you could reconcile the fact you wanted someone who wouldn’t speak to you, who had blood on his clothes that was surely not exclusively his own. A wry smile curls at your lips. You don’t even know who he is, don’t even know his name.

You stretch your back, willing your muscles to wake and ready themselves for whatever else he’d do to you today. The mask lifts as you move and you imagine in the darkness he traces your shape with his eyes. "Good morning," You rasps and swallow compulsively. Must've slept with your mouth open.

Just as with yesterday, he follows you to your bathroom and watches you brush your teeth, but as far as you could tell he remains focused on your face. He even steps aside as you move to leave. Not enough, of course, forcing you to fit between his body and the door frame, but at least you didn’t have to guide him into moving out of the way. You don't hear his footsteps behind you through the hallway, but you trust he's here anyway.

“Breakfast, then I’ll check your bandages again?” You ask, turning to glance behind you. He actually doesn’t crowd into your kitchen this time, seemingly okay with just lingering in the hallway, only half visible. He doesn’t nod, but he certainly didn’t mind telling you when something displeased him, so you figure that’s okay.

You poke through your fridge, displeased at the remaining edible foodstuff. “We’re low on eggs, but I could make toast with it?” Some produce catches your eye. “Oh, I know. Breakfast might be a little small, but I can get groceries and we can make a soup for tonight. Got some potatoes and onion left here, could add corn? Would just need to grab some meat.” You peer over the top of the fridge door. You are unsurprised that he has not moved, still standing statuesque in the shadows of your hallway. You try to meet his eyes, silently ask him to answer: “I could make it without, too. Do you prefer meat?”

He nods. The corners of your eyes crinkle as you smile. Again, you pull out the eggs and a skillet. You press your luck. “Do you like coffee?”

He doesn’t move this time. Oh well. You crack your eggs and leave them to start cooking while scooping grounds into your coffee maker. You’d make an extra cup for him, just in case. Soon enough the smell of fresh brewed coffee filters through your home. The eggs- only <i>really</i> enough for one plate this time, follow soon after. Buttering bread and throwing it in the toaster is the final touch. You stick two pieces of toast on each plate and split the eggs between you.

He still waits in the hallway, having either forgotten or ignored your plea for him to sit down yesterday, so you fill a cup of water for him and hand him both the plate and the cup. “Go sit down, turn the TV on if you want.”

He stands there a moment as you turn and begin fixing your cup of coffee, balancing the bitter taste with how awake you want to be. This time, the floorboard does not creak. You only know that he leaves and enters the living room because the prickling feeling of being watched fades from between your shoulder blades. He does not turn on the TV, but he does sit in the same spot on the couch. You enter the living room just in time to see him rolling up the latex again.

He’s a little more controlled with his hunger this time- and a little more deft with his fork. You turn on the TV again, still early enough to catch the weather. You sip your coffee and watch as the local weatherman- a young man that’s gone gray much too early- talks about the chilly breezes coming through and the long, dark nights. He makes some off-color joke about not having someone to spend those nights with. 

Crunching draws you back to your guest, already done with his eggs and moving on to the toast. You hoped it was close enough to how he liked it. Not that he'd tell you. Despite the calming of his hunger, he still drinks as if parched- and to your amazement, when his glass empties, he stands, goes to the kitchen, and with the sound of running water, he actually fills his own glass.

You aren’t quite sure what to make of it. Was he getting more comfortable with you and your house? It’d be nice- maybe he could relax more. Talk to you, maybe. He stays in the kitchen for a minute- you eat in peace for the first time in two days. The water runs again, but he does not return quite yet. You watch as the anchors speak distantly, caught up the glittering of the woman's necklace. From the corner of your eye, you see the man reappears in the entryway to the living room, but does not return to his seat.

You twist to look at him directly. There’s still little wet spots over the neck and chest of his coveralls, but his mask has already been pulled down, his hands empty. He stops in the doorway and just stands there, watching. Sometimes you, sometimes the TV. You sneak glances at him between bites, only letting your eyes loiter when you’re sure he’s fixated on the screen.

You finish your breakfast and take a while to just sip your coffee. It’s actually kind of normal. Drinking coffee on the brisk November morning, watching boring news reports, trying to budget your limited funds in your head. A stranger looming in the shadows. You almost do laugh: at this point, one of those might actually be scarier than the other.

You take another long sip before tabling your remaining half-full coffee and wave him over, “Bandage time.”

He is silent as resumes his place in the cushions- even turns slightly towards you. His chest rises and falls in steady pace, and once more, he does not undo his zipper for you. That’s fine. Behind his mask, he watches as you pull the zipper down with increasing confidence. 

His bruises are lightening slowly; what the shower had darkened has faded, and slowly the purples along his pecs have faded, ceding the first vestiges of his natural skin tone back to the greens and yellows of lighter bruising. He heals fast for an old man. The mottled colors highlight the pale white of the round scars over his abdomen. You struggle not to touch them.

You check his hands first. The gauze over his stumps is clean, so you tape it back down. The knife wound along his right wrist had reopened during his shower, but now is clean and scabbed nicely. The slash higher on his arm is also clean, but you take your time smoothing the bandage down, feeling the shape of his arm. He doesn’t seem to mind.

You peel off the front gauze pad to his gunshot. It’s stained a yellow-pink across the bottom, a shiny, hard crust ringing the lower edge of the scab. Concern draws you mouth tight; you’d read a little about drainage in severe wounds. “I have to check this one more often.” You say more to yourself than him and touch his shoulder. You wish you could knit his skin yourself, to rub your thumb over the puckered hole and have it disappear entirely. “I think your others are closing nicely.”

You change the bandage easily; the man’s lack of pain reaction still astounds you. He doesn’t even flinch when you touch too close to the wound itself. With the new gauze pad taped into place, you’re done. It's much faster when you aren't having to clean him and not being disgusted by the gore.

“Alright, that’s it. You’re free.” You lean back and begin to stand to throw out his dirtied bandage. His hand wraps around your left wrist- tugs you back towards him. His breath whistles through the holes in his mask, a peculiar tightness to his grasp. You meet his eye line, searching the darkness for meaning.

Your voice is delicate, “What is it?”

He leans forward- the remaining fingers of his left hand grabbing a small bottle from your medkit. You set his dirty bandage aside and take the bottle with your free hand. It’s the burn salve. Worry pangs you, “Do your burns hurt?” You should’ve looked up more about them.

He’s still except for the movement of his chest. You expected a nod at least, he’d been practically talkative today! But he says nothing, betrays nothing at all. Perhaps he didn’t want to admit his injuries pained him? Or maybe it had just felt better with the salve. “It’s okay, I’ll put it on.”

His hand loosens, then slowly lets go, turning to offer you his palm. You unscrew the lid and look inside; it’s only about half full now, but that should last you long enough to cover his hands and neck again. You’ll have to get more when you’re out later.

You rub the cream into his skin, trying to gauge if you could tell if his burns were healing. The skin seemed less red and inflamed and the new skin is shiny and taut, but you couldn’t be sure how much it had changed since you first cleaned him up. You turn his hand over and rub the cream onto his knuckles. His index finger twitches, rubbing against your wrist, the nail scratching lightly.

You switch hands. The long, peeled burn on his forearm did look better, a little less aggressive than it had before. A lightness fills your chest at the sight; he <i>is</i> healing. Slowly, but surely- despite your total lack of medical expertise, he was on the mend. To be sure, you liberally coat it with more cream and spread it to cover every edge until a pastel mint color covers the entire wound.

You look up as you finish, finding the same pale mask staring you down. His hand lingers on yours, not breaking the soft contact between you, but you motion to his neck. “That too?”

The shifting of his head is so slight, you think you might’ve imagined it. But he’s confident enough to tell you when he doesn’t want something, so you scoot closer and move up to smear cream just above his clavicles. He must’ve nodded, because he doesn’t stop you. Instead he tips his head back, lifting the mask’s latex flaps so you can reach the burn easier.

The memory of yesterday makes you shiver and try to catch a glimpse of the eyes hidden beneath the mask. The foggy blue is gone now, the shadows obscuring his face. You follow the full circumference of his neck, even getting him to lean forward so you can get it on the nape of his neck. But it’s done quickly for how small and regular the red skin is, and after checking your work, you move away to put your kit back together.

The feeling of his hand on your wrist is becoming disturbingly commonplace. Again, his touch is slick on your wrist with the cream covering his fingertips. You look up to him. His grasp spasms; pulling too tight- pain lancing through your arm for a fraction of a second, before loosening, lingering on your skin. You wince, your eyes flit over the mask, searching for what it is he wants you to do. You tilt your head at him, raise on eyebrow. You’d checked all the wounds you’d bandaged- rubbed cream on his hand <i>and</i> neck. Did something else hurt him? Had you forgotten a wound?

He withdraws from you, the warmth of his hand pressed deep in your skin. His hands raise- and touch the edges of his mask, then every so slowly, he begins to peel it up and away. The same stubble you saw while eating returns, silvery gray and ever so slightly longer than when you’d found him. His lips are drawn in tight. When the mask rolls over the tip of his nose, he reaches up and grabs the mask by its brown hair and pulls it off.

He lays the latex in his lap, his gaze glued to it- and all you can see is the strong profile of his nose and jaw, the long lines of wrinkles of his aged face gathered around his eyes, yet somehow clear of laugh lines. You can see it without the blood and rage that had obscured his features; he must’ve been  attractive when he was young. Young and before his eyes was damaged- not that you didn’t find a rugged handsomeness about the mismatched irises. There’s a strange innocence about his countenance- if he’d only smile he’d look angelic. But his eyes are sharp and piercing rather than soft and loving, yet with his pink lips, and well-shaped face, you can imagine the women fawning over him.

Without the last two digits of his left hand you hadn't even thought to look for a ring. You flush and look away.

What you need to focus on now is the glued skin of his cheek. That’s the only reason you can imagine he’d take his mask off for you. It’s the first time he’s done so- the only other time you saw his real face was when <i>you</i> had demasked him. The significance is not lost on you and you take care not to overwhelm him.

His budding trust in mind, you lick your lips and so delicately touch his jaw. You take it slow, giving him time to stop you if it’s too much. His stubble is prickly on your palms, but feels nice when you smooth it down with your thumb. The glue over his cheek is messy- specked with dirt and debris, but still in place. You guess he listened to you when you asked him not to scrub it. But you don’t know how to assess a wound that had skin glue on it, considering by nature it was sealed up tight. At best you would have to look at the inside of his mouth and you don’t think he’d be keen on <i>literally</i> opening up.

As long as it’s not still bleeding, you’ll take it as a good sign. The scar will be something nasty, though. The wound was rough and uneven when you’d last seen it open, and with your unskilled closing, that wouldn’t help. Not that he had much to lose; he already had a prominent facial scar. Your mouth is dry as you speak, “This one looks good, I think.”

You back off, try to assess how you'd reach the other head wound. “Could you, lean forward? I want to check the top of your head.”

His head turns slowly, and finally: the cold chill that runs down your spine is familiar, comfortable, terrifying; your eyes lock with his. He’s more guarded today- or perhaps you’re getting used to his hypnotic, electric gaze. You can breathe, your chest not lost to his will; a few moments hold is all it takes for you to be able to blink and look away. He does not move more. So, he won’t be cooperating entirely. You can still work with that.

You resettle on the couch, moving to kneel on the cushions and using the back to straighten yourself up enough to see the top of his head. You worry that he’ll try to follow you with his eyes again which would entirely spoil your ability to reach the wound you hadn’t been able to check in a long while. But he doesn’t. He’s unnaturally still except for the rhythmic sounds of his breathing, the soft lifting and dropping of his chest and shoulders. He doesn’t even blink.

Again, you find his cheek- reaching around to touch his already scarred cheek, and oh so gently guide him to turn fully towards you and drop his chin. You feel the muscle in his jaw tighten, his eyes narrowing, but he complies. It’s still not a great angle, he’s so tall and the wound is more behind him than anything. You try to straighten up a bit- at least so you can see around the edges-

Your knee slips between the cushions. You waver- You grab his shoulder to stop yourself from falling on him-

And one warm hand with only three fingers catches you at your ribs. The unexpected touch makes your breath stutter. You peer down at him, blink rapidly, feel your pulse against his palm, but his eyes are level, gazing somewhere far off. He’s under your shirt. That alone makes you shiver, feel the imprint of his fingers on your skin.

You don’t know how he was fast enough to slip up under the hem as you wobbled. Had he been waiting for it? Was it somehow an accident? You swallow thickly but can’t find it in yourself to say anything. His hand is warm, his touch is strange with only three fingers. With the extra support you can nearly see the whole wound, you move your hand from his shoulder to his cheek again-

His other hand finds you. He holds at your hip, just above the hem of your pants and under the hem of your now slightly raised shirt, but does nothing else. His breathing is still steady, low and consistent in contrast to your stuttering, shallow gasps. It’s nothing. You tell yourself, You nearly fell on him. It’s for balance. It's a lie and you know it, can't even accept your own placations. One hand might be an accident, but not both. Not both warm and squeezing softly into your skin, feeling your shape-

You bite your lip. You need to check the one last wound and then you'd be done. With one hand keeping balance on his shoulder that doesn't have a bullet wound, you reach with your other hand and touch around the edge of the scab. He hadn’t minded it before, and if it gets you out of his hands before you’re actually on his lap, it’s fine. The edges of the scab are irregular and bumpy, the clotting forming extra thickly, trapping a few short hairs in the clump of dark cells. But it feels okay- none of the crust you found on his shoulder or even active dampness of blood or drainage. He's regained control of his arm and aside from his muteness, he doesn't seem to have brain damage.

You start to move back, just a hair away-

His hands jerk once, then start to slide across your skin. The one at your hip slips over your back, his hand long enough to feel the line of your spine- then both move up, up- resting just before your curve of your chest. You shake, wanting to pull away and stop before it gets too far- and yet captivated by the feel of his fingers on your skin. He's nearly burning to the touch- the sensation new and strange and wonderful and more than that, you're taken by the wonder of what he’d do to you. 

You don’t have to wonder long. His hands turn, finding your breasts in his palms. It’s odd how his touch is asymmetrical, three long fingers to five. He just holds them- long enough for you to question what he’s doing just sitting there, if this was even sexual for him. So calm while he’s unmaking you with hardly more than a touch. If it weren’t for your hold on his shoulder, you’d have collapsed into his hands, onto his chest. What would he have done then?

The pressure on your breasts tightens- he closes his fingers, squeezing; first gently, like he’s unsure of what he can do- then turning rougher, faster. He gains confidence at lightning speed, leaving you dizzy and confused. You press into his palms, the new feeling of being groped too good to ignore. His fingers pull at your skin, drawing from sternum to nipple, one calloused thumb catching sideways it by accident. You gasp, jolt in his hands-

He notices.

His touch is experimental, but firm: both thumbs center on your nipples now, feeling over their shape, swiping across in all directions, pressing and flicking-- you bite your lip, close your eyes to keep from crying out. You've never been so glad you can't see his face at this angle- if he were to see you now you might simply burn away. You find the back of his neck with your free hand- you want to pull him close, to give in, to give him whatever it is he wants from you despite every alarm you’ve ever had ringing at the mere sight of him.

His head shifts under you, his short hair moving over the back of your hand as he tips his head up- 

For a moment, there’s teeth on your throat. He doesn’t get to close his jaw.

You gasp, and finally push away from him, falling back onto one side of the couch. You chest heaves and the sound of your panting breaths fill your ears; the memory of his touch tingles on your breasts. Through your pajamas, your nipples are hard, stiffened under his exploration. He moves- you sit upright, slide backwards until you're nearly crawling up the arm of the couch- but he only turns away from you, fingers already curled into the white latex. He pulls the mask back over his face, as if nothing had happened. With the jumpsuit curled around his waist, you can't even tell if he's hard.

Your legs wobble as you stand, but you make it all the way to your bedroom without stumbling.

You lock the door this time.

You didn’t want him to stop, it occurs to you. You don’t know anything about him and you hate yourself for wanting him anyway. You need to calm down.

The bathroom tile is freezing, but it’s refreshing. A solid connection to the real world outside of the all-absorbing nature of his gaze, his touch. You turn on the cold tap full blast, cupping your hands under the spray and pressing them to your face. Heat still lingers in your cheeks and in the mirror you can see teeth marks where you’d bit on your lip to keep quiet. There’s nothing on your neck- it’d been too brief.

You wished there were marks.

You spray your face cold again, rest your forehead on the faucet. You had to stop. You were supposed to care for him- all you have to do is wait it out until he’s healed or he’ll talk to you or maybe he’ll still go to the hospital. Even if he did-

He’s too much. The slightest touch of his skin has you shivering and now? Now you’ll never be able to forget what it felt like to have him be the first person to caress your chest, knowing his fingers were just as deft as they looked, injured or not. You bite at your lips, feel the sensitive spot you'd left there, and focus on the physical, the present. You were so screwed. If you don't get your head on straight before you did something you’d regret…

Well, at worst you’d have slept with a stranger... Of mysterious origins and questionable morality and dubious intent. But still, there were worse things in the world than giving it up to a handsome man.

You needed out of the house for a while. Just to get a breath of fresh air- ground yourself in a world that isn’t exclusively centered around your visitor. That's all this was: cabin fever.

Groceries. The light clicks on in your head. You needed to run errands. Yes, yes- you could go and get food and restock your first aid kit. That should give you time to calm down, to figure out what you were going to do about him. You shut off the water and pat your face dry. Normally you’d jot things down on your phone, but it’s still out there. With him. And you can’t trust yourself quite enough for that yet. 

You dig around in your nightstand and produce a notepad and a pen that takes a few strokes before it leaves a dark blue mark. First, medical supplies. More bandages- and gauze pads for his shoulder. Burn cream, definitely. You had no idea how long he’d need that. You could do with more plain band-aids too. Food wise... Well. He didn’t seem very picky. You’d get some meat to make a stew tonight, you needed eggs, could probably do with more bread. Maybe you could grab some pasta? That’d be easy to make. Or a casserole?

You didn’t need to get a lot- you could go out again another day. Just enough to get you through a few nights.

You double check the door before undressing. The little turn-bit is firmly horizontal. A moment of paranoia makes you want to check if you can hear breathing on the otherwise of the plywood, but you shake that idea away. Even if he was there, he couldn't get in. You pick clean clothes from the dresser- it feels good to be dressed; it feels normal. A much needed break from the delirious dream you’d been stumbling through the last two days. You brush your hair in the mirror and straighten yourself up. You only needed control for a minute.

You stop at your door, one hand laid on the cool metal. Tell him you’re going to get groceries. Get your phone and keys. Leave. You only need control for a minute

You turn the knob. The empty space of the hallway surprises you- absurdity nearly makes you laugh. Had you really expected him to stand at your door and wait?

He’s still sitting, he’s too tall for the couch; his knees are folded up just too high, his hands laid serenely in his lap. The coveralls have been adjusted and rezipped, covering all the wounds you'd cleaned. He stares at the TV-- which is now on. The news plays, it’s the same anchor from yesterday morning. You can’t focus on her words, instead forcing your own voice from your throat. “I’m going to go to the store.” 

The mask turns. He stands all at once- his height alone makes you tremble, makes your mind wander. You steel your spine, quiet the shuddering in your breathing. “To make soup. And to get more bandages for you.”

You can feel it again; a neediness in his gaze that threatens to consume you whole. But he doesn’t move towards you, just stands. Your knees nearly give out, but you make it to the coffee table and retrieve your phone. He doesn't move to stop you, does not follow you to the kitchen as you get your keys. He still stands in the living room and watches. You feel his displeasure and some part of you doesn't want to disappoint him. But you need to get out- if only for a little bit. 

“It’s alright, I’ll be back in an hour or so.” The calmness in your voice surprises even you. Caring for him does come naturally and the purpose of your excursion is not entirely selfish. “Just sit and watch something. Let your wounds rest some more. It won’t be long.”

You want to leave without looking- to just let him deal with his problems himself. But you stand at the door for longer than you should’ve, wishing he’d sit and take your advice. To give you some unspoken approval, to give you permission. He doesn’t. His only response is the heavy breathing through the mask, nearly lost under the sound of the news station’s jingle playing.

You roll you teeth over your lip and leave.

He doesn’t stop you.

You lock the door behind you. The November air is crisp and fresh, the cool breeze breathing life into your frazzled nerves. And as you step into your car, you see a shape in your window. Peering through your blinds, a cracked white mask watches you leave.

It’s not there when you return.

Of course he isn’t. You scold yourself.  He wouldn’t just stand there for half an hour. Your goods managed to fit in only two bags and you hang those on your wrists. They’re heavy, but it’s doable. All you have to do is get to the door anyway.

The key turns and you drop the bags inside- double checking that you locked your car. “Hey,” You call out- and get no response. About as expected. You close the door with your foot and manage to haul the bags around the corner and into the kitchen. The plastic left lines in your skin across your wrists, but you did it. 

You peek out into the living room. The TV is still on, the fake judicial show having made a return. The judge bangs her gavel- and there’s no man on your couch. Or peering through the windows, or bleeding out on the floor. You blink, look down the hallway- he’s not there either. Must be in the bathroom, you reason and push the little voice in the back of your head down. The little thing whispering he’s gone.

He wouldn’t. He was weird and obsessed with you. Unpacking groceries eases the sudden fear- a normal, everyday thing. The plastic bag crinkles softly as you remove items one by one. It needed to be done, and as you put the beef away, you hear the soft click of a door latching.

The relaxation is instant, even if your self-hatred for still being so worked up is persistent. You pull out the potatoes and a cutting board. You can feel him again, the hairs standing up on the back of your neck; it’s not uncomfortable. “The potatoes have to boil, so I’m starting them now.” You speak to the void. It says nothing back. 

You wash the tubers quickly, and take a knife from your block. There’s a sharp intake behind you; you turn. He’s back, as you had expected. No longer staying further back, he's taken his previous post of standing in the kitchen with you. It really confirms how damn silent he can be- and your brow furrows as you realize he's staring at you more intently than normal.

No, not you.

His mask dips just too low to be on you. The knife shines in your hand, glinting off the kitchen lights. A knife...  Guilt lays heavy in your stomach. You turn, try to hide the blade behind your body. “Are you okay?” Did you bring back bad memories? He'd been stabbed and-

The mask snaps up to you, his right hand flexes. His breathing is loud, but steady, muffled through the latex. His nod is a sharp jerk of his chin.

You worry- but return to cooking. He’s been forward enough before. There’s something different about him now- before his agitation had been either of self-preservation (as warped as it was to avoid doctors) or... sexual in nature. You can’t tell- was he just anxious seeing you with a knife? Did he not... trust you?

You cube the first potato and push the thoughts away. You'd have to deal with them later, after you get everything cooking together. The sharp knife slides smoothly through it, thudding pleasantly on the wood board. You’re careful to cut them evenly- undercooked potatoes are torturous and you might as well spare your guest the additional trauma.

There’s a trauma you’d wish he’d spare you in return. The hunger- the devious heat behind his eyes is back, radiating in the air- his need to devour. Something predatory wafts off him, makes your hands shake. You swipe your pale cubes into a bowl and pull over another potato to begin again. Footsteps- and you can feel his presence over your shoulder, any closer and you would feel the heat of his body. His breath whistles in the narrow nose holes.

Your heart pounds in your chest and you feel like a rabbit in the wolf's maw. You steal a glance at him. His height is exaggerated from the high angle, towering over you- chin dropped to watch each motion of your hand. You tremble before him, your cutting paused so you don’t hurt yourself. He eyes slide up your arm to your face- the breathing even louder now.

You can’t imagine what he wants- you lick your lips. In the tight space, you manage to turn sideways towards him. “Do you... want to help?” You motion to the blade, hanging loosely in your hand.

His mask turns slow from you to the knife and back again. You move slow- if he was hesitant about knives you didn’t want to startle him. You turn the knife in your hand so you can offer him the black handle, the long silver point angled back at you. He stands there-

And slowly takes the kitchen knife. His hand is so big it dwarfs the black plastic, almost entirely hidden under his huge palm. In the transfer his finger brushes against yours and you nearly drop it. He squeezes; you watch his knuckles turn white. You think nothing of it, until he steps forward again.

The flat of the blade brushes against the side of your shirt- through the fabric you can feel the cold of the metal, solid and unwavering against your ribs. You gasp, try not to inhale too sharply. It’s exactly where he’d touched you before, where his right hand had paused before engulfing your chest, the heat still present in your mind. You search the blackness of his eye holes but find only that radiating power, the knowledge he could end your life with a flick of his wrist. It's no accident for him to do this- it's purposeful. He wants something-

And his wrist turns, the knife spinning sideways, scraping along your shirt- the cutting edge cradled delicately between two ribs. That thrilling, terrifying power surrounds you- the knife pressing closer for one agonizing moment. He’s fighting something, the dark impulse that guides him. All the other times he’s crowded you and threatened you or been inappropriate- it was for himself or to get a rise from you. Trying to goad you into giving in to whatever it is he wants- to not go to the hospital, to make some sexual pass at  you.

But there’s no lust in this action; he could touch you with his other hand, or press the knife against your throat- hell, he could just choke you again if he was trying to punish you, to give you warning for some unseen trespass. But he stands there, the blade pressed just too hard into you, just on the edge of beginning to hurt. Your lips part of their own accord, drawing in a soft breath, seeking his eyes through the mask. You wished he’d show them to you again. You can’t look away now, can’t speak- can’t even will yourself to cry out or fight against him. 

And then, he wins. 

The knife moves away. You blink, wide-eyed up at him, silent despite the very real possibility that he would’ve killed you- that he wanted to spill your blood across your kitchen floor. Your side hurts. His mask turns, looks to the cutting board and the potato, half cut and forgotten behind you

He steps around you, and you follow his lead like a dancer, turning and letting him stand in front of the chopping board, lingering over his left side. You should be so much more afraid than you are. Your fingers tremble, everything about you trembles, but his heat is familiar, comforting- you can’t move away. “Try to cut them the same size, like mine.” You point to the ones already cut. “It’ll make them cook evenly.”

He holds the potato in place with his injured hand, you touch his arm, his back- he stiffens under the touch as he brings the knife back over the board. His arm flexes and the knife thuds into the board- too hard, but not hard enough to get the blade stuck. Light glints off it again and he raises it, scoots it over on the potato and tries again- still too hard, but working fine enough. You’ll just have to sharpen the blade later. His cuts are irregular, some bigger followed by smaller, like he’s trying to compensate but can’t judge it quite right. Must not cook often. You wonder if it’s to do with his eye.

You can’t help but smile; it’s kind of endearing. You could teach him to cook, at least some simple things. Another thud and he’s almost done with the cuts one way. “Now turn them,” You instruct, and watch as he holds the cuts together with his three fingers, and begins chopping longwise. You’ll definitely have some interesting potatoes.

 bang

You jump, twisting your fingers into the man’s coveralls. The front door. He hesitates, turns to look at the exit of the kitchen. You shake your head. “I’ll get it, you keep working on those. It’ll only be a minute.” Now who would be calling on you? You certainly weren't expecting anyone- maybe one of your neighbors?

You round the corner out into the entryway, wiping your hands messily on your pants. A peer through the peephole does not assuage your fears. You undo the lock and open the thick wood.

A man stands before you in a pressed blue uniform, not too different from your guest’s. Except for the black belt covered in pouches- and the gun holstered on one hip and the shiny silver badge on his breast. He has tight gray coils and there is a warmth to his large, dark eyes. The fear pours into you- cops were never a good sign. Yet the fact you’d so nearly called them twice before is not lost on you.

His voice is smooth and deceptively happy. “Hello, I’m Officer Jake Windsor with the state police. May I come in?”

You introduce yourself curtly, but hesitate. “I’d rather not. Privacy and all.” Instead, you step outside and close the door behind you. Out in the driveway you can see the cop’s car parked next to yours, the lights off and empty. Alone.

He smiles and nods- it even looks genuine. Maybe it was. “I understand, we’re just out canvassing, looking for any leads on a recent case. Have you seen anything strange in the last few days?”

Case. What case? Could it be him? You try not to betray too much, “What do you mean by strange?”

He ducks his head, picks his words carefully. “Well, people that shouldn’t be around. Maybe someone wearing a mask after Halloween?” A rock plummets through your stomach, every muscle going tense. Had someone reported him missing? The man before you sighs and takes off his cap, to scratch at his short, thick hair. “Listen, between you and me, this is about the Myers case.”

“Myers?” The gears click in your head, the lens finally, excruciatingly coming into focus. Myers. The news story had been everywhere a few days ago. Your voice is far away, muffled in your own ears. “Michael Myers? The serial killer?”

Windsor nods, grimaces. “He escaped about a week ago now. Left a string of murders around Haddonfield. He was last seen at a cabin a few miles from here. Wasn’t much left, mostly just ashes-” his burns “-but until we know for certain that he’s dead, we just want to be cautious. Check if anyone's seen anything.” 

You stare past him, out into the woods. Into piles of orange and brown leaves that have begun to rot. “I haven’t… seen anything.” You shake your head, how could you have not seen it? His wounds- the excess blood. He wasn’t attacked, he was the attacker. Oh, god you’d let him feel you up, he’s been in your room, and he- in your shower-- You wrap your arms around yourself in a weak attempt to keep the fear from pouring out of you.

The cop raises his hands, placating. “There’s no need to worry. If you see anyone unusual, call the police.” He shrugs, tries to come off as nonchalant, but you can see the shadow of worry over his dark eyes. “Just, don’t approach them.” He looks at you- and you can feel him trying to gauge your reaction. Did he have a clock on I almost slept with a murderer?

He sighs and steps away. Seems not. “That’s all I needed. You-”

“Is he dangerous?” Your voice comes out too fast, too worn to pass as anything other than terror.

Windsor bites his cheek and measures his options. He nods, “He’s killed seventeen people that we know of, this time. Plus the five he killed before.” He touches your forearms- gentle, just the tips of his fingers, trying to bring you back to the present. So different than- “Listen, we’re fairly sure he’s dead. Keep your doors locked and be cautious, you’ll be fine.”

You could yell. You could tell him right now in whispered words- could drive off with him until the cavalry arrives. It would only take a word, take two- he’s here.

You nod, and try to smile, your lips drawing tight across your face. “Thank you.” Why? Why why why-

Because it's not true. It can't be. He smiles back, eyes crinkling at the sides. “Don’t you worry. And have a good day.”

You nod, and watch him climb down your creaky wooden stairs- watch him all the way to getting in his car. He waves, and you wave back- and he drives off, kicking up gravel as he goes. You watch- and see your life going with him. It's not true. You knew better than that. You had to,

The breeze picks up again, but you’re already cold.

You turn the knob, hear the tumblers click, step inside. The warmth of your heater can do nothing for the chills on your skin, the icy knot in your stomach. You close the door and lean against it. You can’t mask this, what are you doing? If he knows you know, if it's <i>true</i> then- dread chokes at your throat.

There’s no thudding in the kitchen, no scraping of the knife on the board.

He knows.

Your heart races, blood rushing in your ears. A single boot steps into the entryway. Your eyes shoot up. Another footstep- and slowly, the blue coveralls return to view. He stands upright, tall and imposing, the white latex glaring down at you over his nose. He knows.

You have to. “Michael?” The name is foreign, strange as you say it. He wouldn’t respond. He was just your guest- not an escaped murderer. Just silent and scarred and traumatized. He couldn’t be.

He turns his wrist- the knife flashes in his hand.

Your mouth falls open but no sound comes out, the tears finally spouting from your eyes, leaving hot tracks over your cheeks. You lick your lips and taste salt. How could you not recognize the mask? Not piece together who he was?

The handle creaks in his grasp, his head tilting ever so slowly. Your tongue is thick in your mouth, your whole body heavy under his gaze. You’d bandaged him, washed him- the white gauze on his left hand peeks out from under the sleeves. Your breath is ragged, and every fiber of you wants to run because he knows

The light shines through your living room windows and as he tilts his head, you catch his eyes.

You’re pinned, frozen where you are, tears blurring your vision even as you blink them away to hold onto the weak connection you have. He’s icy blue-gray, cold and far away, his pupils grown wide in something you can’t name. There’s a heat to them, a burning need somewhere inside him that threatens to consume- and you watch through the lit mask as his eyes narrow, one gray brow dipping into sight for a fraction of a second.

His mask turns upright, and the vision is gone. Your connection is gone. A sob catches in your throat and you just want to know why-

And he turns. Turns away from you. He walks down your long hallway with even, unhurried steps that creak at your floorboards. His shoulders hardly move. He turns out to your laundry room. He does not look back, does not even hesitate- and you hold your breath as you hear the turning of your back door's lock, the creaking of the old wood protesting opening.

You stand there for several long minute, time turning into a sluggish slurry. When he does not return you slide down the front door, your head spinning.

Wind filters through your house.

=====

Next Chapter

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[sweetteaanddragons]

Other Shadows

I should probably be working on prompts right now, but my brain wanted to write these instead.

These are short AU snippets that explore the concept of “What if a different Vala had been the one to go evil?”

Warning: They are all pretty dark.

. . .

Irmo

Fingon hadn’t slept for thirty-six hours, so he was probably one of the sanest people in the camp at the moment. Those who’d been awake for too many hours longer were either all but nodding off or jittery with stimulants; those who’d been asleep too much sooner were still trembling from their dreams.

Trembling. Screaming. Sobbing. Trying to wrench free from their restraints so that they could drive a tent peg into their brains.

They all had their little ways of coping.

The healers promised that soon they would find a way to induce dreamless sleep. Fingon nodded, and smiled, and told the good news to his people.

Inwardly, he had his doubts.

But now was not the time for doubts. Not here of all places. 

Maedhros’s tent had a wide ring of space around it. Even the two guards stood a wary distance from the tightly tied flaps. Both of them had bloodshot eyes and shaking hands.

They didn’t need steadiness for this job. There was no real threat. It just - It made everyone feel things were safer.

For everyone involved.

Fingon nodded at them. Smiled.

Thirty-six hours ago, he had dreamed that his smile stretched on and on until the skin split and his whole face slid off like the mask it was. It had hurt, slipping off, it had hurt even when he’d held it in his hands -

But that wasn’t real. This was real.

As soon as he forgot that, he’d be in the tent right beside Maedhros.

He slipped inside the tent. There was a light burning because there always had to be a light burning to keep Maedhros from screaming out, and it was a gem glowing out, not an open flame, because there were far too many flammable things in a tent to possibly trust to Maedhros’s restraints.

He was still restrained for now, though. Still tied to a chair since he flinched so violently from every bed they’d offered.

Still trembling in every muscle because he refused to sleep.

Or, as he sometimes put it, to wake up.

He didn’t say anything today. He had yesterday, but Maglor had sung to him yesterday, and that helped, sometimes. Maglor hadn’t sung today, because today was Maglor’s shift to go under the poppy.

It was the only way any of them could bear to stay asleep long enough to truly rest, if it could be called rest.

Maedhros always just spat it back up.

“You really are safe now,” Fingon said helplessly. Hopelessly. It had never worked before. Why should it work now? “This isn’t another nightmare. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Maedhros looked at him and - laughed. Actually laughed. Laughed until tears came out of his bloodshot, sunken eyes, and his chipped, brittle nails scrabbled for purchase on the chair’s left arm, leaving flecks of blood behind.

The right arm just shook under its painfully tight straps.

The stump of the hand he’d gnawed off to escape whatever nightmare he had visioned sprouting from it had no nails left to scrape.

“Alright, it is a nightmare,” Fingon conceded. “But it’s still reality.” He smiled weakly, and the smile stretched and stretched and stretched -

It did not break. His skin did not break.

He told himself that firmly as he forced the smile down.

This was real. This was real. This was real.

It had to be.

. . .

Mandos

The walls of Hithlum were ridiculously tall because they had to be.

It took the dead longer to stack themselves into high enough towers to attack that way.

Caranthir could see them even now at the bottom, reforming after their last attack failed. Pale grey bodies in bone white armor that stacked themselves up with no care for pain and no mind left to think of tools.

As far as they had been able to tell, most of them had only enough mind left to think of what would happen to them if they failed.

There had been a few exceptions.

“He should have known better,” Fingon said numbly beside him. “Turgon knew Ada was gone, he knew - “ He bit back whatever words were next and gripped the top of the wall to balance himself instead. “And now he’ll be the next face over the wall.”

“Not the next face,” Caranthir offered. It was all the limited comfort he had to offer. “He’s strong. He won’t break easily.”

Fingon considered this for a moment before saying what they both already knew. “That doesn’t actually help.” He looked down at the seething mass of undead below. “What do you think he does to them that it makes them fear returning to him so much?”

Caranthir actively tried to avoid thinking about that. It helped nothing, and they couldn’t afford guilt when they sent the shrieking horde back to its master.

The living were already outnumbered by the dead. They had to take precedence if they were to stand any chance at all.

“I’d be more interested to know why only one in ten Men end up in that horde outside our walls,” he said instead. They had been Fingolfin’s walls once, but Fingolfin was dead, and thanks to the retreat, Caranthir had as many men trapped here as Fingon did. He had as much claim to the walls as anyone.

“Maybe they move on too quickly for him to catch them,” Fingon suggested, latching onto the topic quickly. “We’ve always thought they moved on somewhere. Not like us.”

“Not like us,” Caranthir agreed grimly. Not for them was a hoped for paradise. For them there was nothing but the promise that they were bound to the circles of the world for however long it lasted.

Living, dead, or a horrible perversion of both.

His hopes were slowly fading that somewhere out there his brothers were still in the first category.

Fingon was curiously silent beside him, and Caranthir realized, looking at him, that he was building up to something.

“What?” he asked. He had spent the midnight hours removing his uncle’s head so that Fingon would have time to light the body on fire; there seemed little point in delicacy now.

“Seeing my father return after so long made me realize that we still haven’t seen your father yet,” Fingon said quietly. 

“He was strong,” Caranthir said firmly. Perhaps there was still need for delicacy after all, little though he usually thought of it,  if this was going where he thought it was. “Maybe - “

“It’s been two hundred years,” Fingon interrupted. “No one’s that strong, and you know it.”

It had taken Fingolfin twelve years to fall and consent to be pushed into a stretched thin body covered in armor that looked too much like bone. Fingolfin had lasted far longer than most.

Caranthir’s father was strong.

But no one was that strong. Not against a Vala. Not in the end.

“Maybe he’s off attacking Maedhros’s people,” he said.

“Maybe,” Fingon said almost faded hope, and he politely did not mention what they both knew but tried not to talk about: That Curufin had last sent a bird with a message a little over a year ago, and there was a limit to how often messages could simply go astray.

But that wasn’t what Fingon was driving at now.

“That’s not what the men think,” Fingon said. “They think the Halls of Death never held him. That maybe he went straight to the Void.”

The Oath, the accursed Oath, stirred to life within him, and even on Hithlum’s cold walls it felt like a dragon’s wealth of fire.

“I want to swear an Oath,” Fingon said bluntly. He held up a hand to forestall Caranthir’s startled protest. “Not to claim the Silmarils, I’m not fool enough to try to cross you in that, but something else. Anything else that seems unattainable.”

“Do you really think the Void will be better than Death’s halls?” Caranthir demanded when he got his voice back. “It’s like fire, Fingon! Even now it’s burning me up from the inside out, and it won’t be too much longer till there’s nothing left but its call or the darkness beyond. It’s not better.”

“It might be,” Fingon said wearily, looking down at the shattered remnants of those that were once their people below. “And even if it’s not, at least the Void won’t spit me back out and send me out against whoever’s still breathing.”

Caranthir closed his eyes and tried to think. It made sense. Horrible, burning sense. It would be the highest bargain he had ever witnessed being driven, but it made sense.

“What will you swear?” he finally asked, defeat in his voice.

“To kill Death,” Fingon answered promptly. “That way either I fail and go to the Void, or succeed and don’t have a need to.”

A faint smile, the first for a while, stole across Caranthir’s lips. “To killing death,” he said, miming a mocking toast.

“To killing Death,” Fingon repeated.

The warning bell cut off anything further he might have said.

But as they raced to answer it, Caranthir saw Fingon mouthing further words, and he felt a shiver of power when his cousin finished. 

. . .

Yavanna

When Dior was a child, the forest had been green and lush and safe.

But then his grandfather had died and Grandmother had left them, and there had been no choice but to set the whole thing ablaze. He still remembered the choking smoke as they’d fled and the hideous heat. They had run as close to the fire as they dared because it was safer than the alternative.

In the charred skeletons of dead trees, there were twisted fragments of bone still visible that had once belonged to those who had not stayed close enough.

The area remained safely scorched, though, and what little had grown back flinched away from the holy light on his brow.

The caves of Doriath loomed ahead, the soilless stone promising even greater safety. 

They had fled the forest, but the forest was gone. Maybe now it would be safe to return. They said there were a thousand caves in Doriath; they could plant their gardens at the far end, pin them in with steel, and guard them with axes and fire until they were ready to sing the plants to sleep long enough to snatch their fruits.

It would be safe in there, even with Melian gone, or at least safer than being out here, always waiting for a vine to strangle you softly while you were sleeping or for roots to shoot up and drag your bleeding body into the earth so that their tress could grow lush and strong.

It would be safe, he thought, and his hand brushed the moss that had grown up on the side of the cave.

He snatched his hand back immediately. His hand still stung, small drops of blood clinging to the palm. The moss grew fat upon its own share, bulging outward, but even it shrank back from the light.

Nowhere was safe, he reminded himself, and he proceeded more slowly. Safer than most places did not have to mean particularly safe at all.

(But the stone holds. It holds steady and firm, and they lose only a few to the harvest each year until the Feanorains come.)

(When the Feanorians come, the guards’ blood flows freely into the garden, and it sends out a call to the Ents.)

(Elured and Elurin do not expect to see a forest when they flee from the caves. There was not one there last night. It is the first time they have seen full grown trees.)

(It is also the last.)

[wordlessbabbling]

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 14

“How the FUCK did you make porridge taste good?”

Masterlist

Sunshine all the time makes a desert.

While Dorothy slept soundly and heavy in the bed upstairs. Thomas sat for hours on the sofa, nursing a glass of whiskey.

He racked his brain with ideas on everything to do with Bonny.

He thought about where she lived.

He thought about why she lived there.

He thought about how she could live there and still be the Bonny that he knows.

He thought about her, and her stature.

He thought about how he didn't notice straight away.

He thought about the fact that he could just ask around and get her name.

He thought about how doing that could break her trust in him.

And finally, he thought about how to help her.

Thomas had never cared so deeply for someone that wasn't his family. If he was honest, it scared him.

He knew that by getting out of her life, she'd be safe, but he had to be - nay, needed to be selfish.

He needed her.

The night drifted on and Thomas found himself wavering in and out of consciousness.

His body aching to go upstairs and check on her.

It was only when the clock on the mantle struck 2:00 did he push himself off the sofa and stumble up the stairs, his bones aching and his joints creaking with strain.

He opened the slightly ajar door and peeked round.

She was curled up into a tight ball that he doubted could possibly be comfortable. She had her curls strewn over her face, the fringe falling about haphazardly. Thomas knew that if she were awake she'd find herself fussing with the placement of it on her forehead.

Creeping in a bit further, he sat down on the chair next to her bed and just looked at her. Taking in her frame, although she was shrouded by the loose clothes, which Thomas could still not get over, she still looked deathly thin and pale.

He brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and smiled slightly.

"This is kind of creepy." Thomas thought to himself, only now catching the fact that he'd been just watching her while she slept.

He got back up and stiffened when a floorboard groaned under his foot.

His eyes darted back to her, he saw her face scrunch up, she dipped her head so her nose was touching her knee. Thomas was baffled by the fact that she could sleep like that and still move her head the next morning.

Maybe she was cold? Thomas didn't know. The only logical thing he could think to do was to take the spare blanket and put it over the duvet that she was sleeping under.

Thomas didn't know if it was the warmth that stopped her shaking or the extra weight, but he sighed in relief when her shaking subsided.

He left the room again, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Going back down the stairs, back to his whiskey, to waste the night away and think about his Bonny.

——

Thomas had not realised that he'd fallen asleep when he woke up that morning to the sound of shuffling upstairs.

For a brief moment he panicked before remembering the events of the previous night.

He cracked his neck and pretended to make himself look busy or lost in thought as he heard light footsteps coming down the stairs. He pretended not to notice her, though he did twitch a bit when the sound briefly stopped.

Though it was followed by the sound of feet slamming down the stairs. Thomas thought she had fallen down the stairs, but was pleasantly surprised when two arms wrapped around his shoulders before he could turn around.

"Good morning!" She rasped excitedly in his ear, squeezing him tight.

Thomas froze. He, for one, was definitely not used to this kind of physical contact. Any physical contact for that matter.

But surely, he found himself relaxing back, "mornin' Bonny. I see you've slept well."

She came around the side of the sofa and sat down next to him, stretching her arms and rubbing her eyes, "yep!"

She settled back down and with that, they settled into silence.

"You hungry?" She peeked over at him.

"You must be very hungry, I imagine." Thomas  waved off her question, annoyingly.

"Maybe I am, but you must be hungry."

"If you're hungry then I can go raid the kitchen for food?"

These two were honestly useless. Couldn't make their minds up for shit. If anyone else was there, they surely would have stormed out and made the decision for them.

Huffing at the fact they were getting nowhere, Dorothy stood up, grabbing Thomas' arm and trying her best to pull him up. To which Thomas responded by staring back up amusedly as she feebly attempted to lift the weight of a fully grown man.

"For gods sake, man. Help a girl out!" She squealed when he suddenly jumped up and she lost her balance, still gripping onto his arm.

She shut her eyes as Thomas' arm jerked back and pulled her back up, steadying her, he chuckled mockingly at her.

Once she had recovered, she slapped him on the chest, "meanie!"

Thomas raised an eyebrow at her language and tutted teasingly.

"Right, food it is then. I'll see what I can steal from your kitchen. You must be starvin'!" She marched off determinedly in the direction she hoped was the kitchen

Thomas only watched her walk away, very confused. Wasn't she supposed to be hungry? Isn't that how this works?

Following her into the kitchen as she opened cupboards and tried to find some ingredients to use.

"Go on then, sit down. I'll be done in a jiffy!" She waved over towards the table.

"Yes dear." Thomas chuckled mockingly, to which Dorothy let out a small giggle.

"Aha!" She smiled at the box of oats that she'd found..

Thomas watched her as she fiddled around at the stove, watching her movements as she hummed quietly to herself.

Even though the two were nothing, not even close to a couple, they both shared brief moments of domesticity around each other.

——

Thomas was lost in his thoughts as a bowl was placed down in front of him. A bowl of porridge.

Thomas hated porridge.

He remembered when he was younger and they could barely put anything on the table, for ages, all he could eat was porridge. Plain, bland porridge. It reminded him of when eating was a privilege, not a right.

Thomas hated porridge.

He stared at the bowl with a frown until Dorothy sat in front of him and leaned on her hands on the table, tilting her head up at him.

"Where's your bowl?" Thomas furrowed his eyebrows.

"There was only enough for one portion, so I just made one for you." Dorothy shrugged.

"You haven't eaten anything in three days, Bonny." Thomas frowned at her. He pushed the bowl in her direction.

"Yeah but that's alright. I'm not going to waltz into your home, sleep in your bed AND eat your food. That would be very rude of me."

"It's also rude to refuse food when it's offered to you." Thomas pointed back at her.

"Is this going to become a routine, Bubs?" She slumped out of her chair.

Thomas quirked an eyebrow at her as she dug into a draw and pulled out another spoon.

Thomas understood what she was getting at and chuckled lightly to himself, "we're never gonna eat a full meal at this rate." She shook her head.

Thomas noticed that she hadn't made a move to eat anything yet, and glanced up at her, she only gestures to the bowl saying, "go on, give it a try! I saw the way you looked at it earlier, but I believe I can convince you." She waited impatiently.

Thomas only took a bit on the spoon, he tried his best not to grimace at the mush, but his eye twitched, just a bit.

He decided it was best to just get it over and done with then eat a few more and make sure she ate the rest.

Thomas shoved the spoon in his mouth and for a second he just let the mush sit there.

Thomas, to say the least, was surprised. The porridge was sweeter, it was thick, it was smooth and it confused him.

He swallowed the food and put his spoon down. Dorothy leaned forward expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"How the FUCK did you make porridge taste good?" Thomas could only gush before he stopped himself.

Dorothy leaned back in her chair and smiled smugly. Dorothy didn't have a big ego but she knew where her talents lay, and she, without a doubt, could make anything taste sweet and good if she tried.

"So let me guess, you're an aspiring chef, going for the big leagues?" Thomas picked up her spoon and gestured for her to take it.

Dorothy dug the spoon into the sweet porridge, "would you believe me if I told you I was a horrible cook?" She grinned before scooping the food to her mouth, "I'm only really ok at sweet treats, never had much experience cooking n' that. But I do think I hold the world record for spreading lard on toast."

Thomas let out a small laugh and picked up his spoon again, surprisingly going for another spoonful. Dorothy only grinned and went back to eating.

Thomas thought of the taste of lard. He remembered it when that's maybe all he could get if he wanted something on his bread in the morning.

Thomas hated lard.

It was only then that Thomas leaned back and thought of Dorothy's situation. He hated it.

He didn't pity the woman because that's not what needed to be done. He didn't find it endearing that she needed his help last night. He didn't like the fact that she was so overwhelmingly caring that the idea of feeding herself first, even though she had not eaten in three days, was a preposterous idea. He didn't like that she refused to back away when she realised who he was, she only seemed more comfortable.

Dorothy seemed lost in thought, just as much as he was.

"What's on your mind?" Thomas took another mouthful and leaned back.

Dorothy shrugged, "there's something very important in human bonds that relates to eating. See, I read a book on it a while ago, it's a very primitive thing, eating communally. The logic behind it is that when a person feels comfortable in the environment they're in, they feel safe to eat. People only eat when they know they can put their head down to chew and not get it bitten off. There's just something lovely about small intimate things that we do in our day to day that no one thinks about."

Thomas mulled over her words and found himself agreeing with what she had said.

Nodding his head slowly, "you read a lot then?"

Thomas lit a cigarette as she finished the last spoonful of porridge, "I try my best to read as much as I can to educate myself. After having to leave school, I found that I wanted to learn more. I want to do so many things, Bubs. I want to become a photographer. I want to be what history will call an intellectual. I want to live and be. I know I will not amount to much, cosmically. But maybe, just maybe; if I could change someone's life, for the better; then I know, I will not have lived in vain."

Dorothy stared off into the distance before seemingly snapping back and smiling sheepishly at the information she'd just very unintentionally shared.

Thomas liked her small rambles, it made him want to listen and engage in the conversation. She made him talkative, and he thought he liked it.

"An intellectual then, huh?" Thomas smiled fondly at her. Thomas wanted her dreams to come true.

He'd be lying if he said that he didn't already have plans to help her achieve them.

——

ANOTHER ONE IN THE BAG.

Thanks for the love.

Feedback is always welcome.

See ya next time!

[writingpcges]

— "i have a horrible feeling I am a greedy, perverted, selfish, apathetic, cynical, depraved, morally bankrupt woman who can’t even call herself a feminist." - fleabag

MANNERISMS:

What words or phrases do they overuse?

she uses the word ‘basically’ a lot. she also definitely overuses her britishisms but that’s mainly because she’d been living there for the last few years. favouite curse word is ‘fuck’. ends too many sentences with the word ‘me’.

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic?

ellie will tell you she’s a realist, though she does tend towards optimism, particularly when it comes to the outcomes of certain events in her life. 

What bad habits do they have?

speaking before she speaks, drinking way too much coffee (and as a result has developed an unhealthy addiction to breath mints, seriously she’s always gone some on her person!), nail biting/picking (particularly when she’s nervous/bored), flirting before thinking (she’s sure your partner is great, she just didn’t consider their existence), pouting until she gets what she wants.

What makes them laugh out loud?

friends reruns, friends in general, lana sullivan. she’s also the sort to laugh at her friends embarrassments/trip ups but would also be the first to bail you out in a bind so figurers that balances things out. 

How do they display affection?

little touches (on your arm, your shoulder, your lower back), little gifts/things she’s seen that remind her of you, sending random texts/pictures throughout her day, sharing anecdotes/gossip. 

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider?

she’s an impulsive little sun of a gun, just ask lana. she detests feeling stuck and that has driven her to make many questionable decisions and has resulted in the breaking down of some important relationships in her life. 

How do they react to praise?

she THRIVES off of it. like tinkerbell she needs applause and praise to live. 

How do they react to criticism?

she’ll tell you she can take it, and that’s not totally untrue, as an actress she has developed a fairly thick skin but she only really takes constructive criticism well. trolly comments on the internet will send her into a tailspin and often result in her seeking some outside affirmation of her awesomeness (often in the form of hookups or friendly cheerleaders). 

What is their philosophy of life?

work hard and be kind. 

When was the last time they cried?

professionally? daily, her current project requires a lot of mental gymnastics. personally? after meeting up with lana. 

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?

apart from forever appearing ageless?? physically she wouldn’t mind being a little taller, but she thinks her face is nice and her ass is good so she happy with her appearance. there are a lot of internal things she’d change about herself but mainly she’d like to be braver and a little more vulnerable about the things that matter with the people she loves. 

What is their obsession?

herself?? sex?? skin care??

What are their pet peeves? 

she does get annoyed easily and pinning down what will set her off from one day to the next isn’t an exact science but some things that never fail are slow walkers, people who talk on their phone in public, traffic (she probs shouldn’t drive bc the road rage is real), and people who insist on continuing conversations when she’s clearly checked out. 

FRIENDS&FAMILY:

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of?

pretty small, just her dad, step mum and gran left. 

What is their perception of family?

family used to be everything but after her mum passed ellie hasn’t been super connected to her family, with the exception of her gran who is her favouite person in the whole world. 

Do they have siblings? Older or younger?

she’s an only child, i’m sure this surprises no one. 

Describe their best friend.

the real yin to her yang and the one person she will never put the moves on because it would totally ruin their vibe. also it would be weird because they are basically sisters at this point. if ellie is ever able to sit still long enough to sit and think things through things it is down to this person. big mom friend vibes. 10/10 angel on earth. 

Do they have any pets?

oh god no, she shouldn’t be trusted to care for a living creature. 

PAST&FUTURE:

What was your character like as a teen?

not unlike herself now, which speaks to her emotional maturity but much more moody and reckless, very little regard for the consequences of her actions, and pretty listless/unmotivated. she’s since learned to reel some of that in as she’s focussed on her career. 

Did they grow up rich or poor?

middle class, they were comfortable, but they didn’t go on holiday every school break or anything. 

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected?

nurtured, but when she lost her mum she an her dad started to neglect each other. 

What is their greatest achievement?

winning a bafta. 

What was their first kiss like?

awkward and the result of a game of spin the bottle gone wrong -- she’d really wanted to kiss matt jones but instead the bottle had landed on rory tyler. 

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved?

LEFT THEM AT THE ALTAR?! 

What are their ambitions?

she’d really like to have a career that lasts past her 35th birthday

What advice would they give their younger self?

hang in there, be kinder to mum, go easier on dad, don’t forget to keep your promises. 

What smells remind them of their childhood?

cinnamon sugar and french toast, mum would make it every sunday. 

What was their childhood ambition?

to be an actress and a unicorn doctor, so she’s definitely lived up to some of her childhood ambitions!

What does their five-year plan look like?

become a house hold name, successfully bake banana bread, take a dance class, learn to play piano, take someone she loves to an awards show. 

LOVE:

Do they believe in love at first sight?

no, not even a little which is funny because she is definitely the sort to fall quickly. 

Are they in a relationship? Are they in love?

no, but she is still in love with her ex so that’s fun. particularly for someone whose default is to seek vey surface level/fun ‘relationships’.

How do they behave in a relationship?

depends on the relationship and the person, honestly. ellie hasn’t been in many serious relationships because she typically bolts at the first sign of feeeelings as she tends to lean towards her need for freedom rather than commitment but on the rare occasion her heart has fallen before her brain was able to catch on she’s been quite happy to hermit with her partner. she becomes so smitten the idea of wanting someone else escapes her completely. 

When did your character last have sex?

probably last night. or this morning. she’s a ho and she doesn’t like to be alone. that’s when things like thinking happen and that’s no good! 

Has your character ever been in love?

yes, twice. and both instances left her gutted. 

Have they ever had their heart broken?

she has, but in the end it’s usually by herself as she has the tendency to leave before she gets left. 

Are they crushing on anyone now? Tag them!

lana (and also probs sabrina lbh): @lauralaword​ , sean: @gapsofsvnlight​ , quinn: @sonderbound​ , and probs pyper: @chvrryglcss​ bc she seems emotionally unavailable and ellie likes a challenge, plus she a babe. guys i said she’s a ho. 

WORK&LIFE:

What is their current job?

actress, she’s also an aspiring screen writer/playwright and director, but that’s mainly born of fear of what she’ll do when the industry decides she’s too old to play a lead

What do they think about their current job?

loves it, a +, everything she’d hoped it be even if the hours are maybe a bit longer than she’d like and she doesn’t always love feeling like she has to hide parts of herself from rabid fans/news sources, but she likes her privacy. 

What are some of their past jobs?

bag girl, ride attendant, bartender (at uni), nanny, waitress, and snow white for a tick!

What are their hobbies?

she likes to read and netflix, but her main hobby is bugging her mates until they entertain her. 

Educational background?

went to the royal academy of dramatic art in london where she studied acting. 

Do they have a natural talent for something?

photography, the written word, charming her way into your pants. 

Do they play a sport? Are they any good?

no, she does not sport well nor does she understand any of the rules. her disdain for football is just another point of contention between her and her father. 

MISC:

What is in their fridge?

a half drank bottle of vodka, seltzer, diet coke, some probiotics she never takes and a variety of take out containers. she does not cook. 

What is on their bedside table?

cellphone charger, a book she’s been trying to finish for ages, and a sound machine. 

What kinda car do they drive, and is their car messy or clean?

honestly she couldn’t tell you the make or model unless she read the manual butt it gets her to auditions and that’s all that matters. it’s basically always got at least three changes of clothes and a takeaway coffee cup and/or wrapper somewhere so if you think that’s messy...  

Do they carry a purse? What is in their purse or wallet?

usually, but if she’s out at retrograde she’ll pair her essentials down to things that can fit in her pocket -- basically that means a lip (red if she’s feeling feisty or insecure), her debit card, her cell and some mints. her purse has at any given time four different lips, a chapstick, some gloss, three packs of gum, mints, a pack of emergency smokes (for when things get intense and she needs to break her clean streak), her wallet, a compact, an umbrella, and so many receipts! 

What is in their pockets?

if she has her purse they’re likely empty, if she doesn’t all the things. also sometimes her hands when she doesn’t know what to do with them. 

What is their most treasured possession? 

her mums wedding band, she wears it basically all the time on her index finger. 

[solitaria-fantasma]

((Session #7 shenanigans, GO!))

We’re skipping the filler stuff this week and jumping straight into the Plot bc our DM has figured out how to connect us to her main campaign and really wants to get to the good parts.

It’s been a while so we had to do a little discussing to remember where we’d left off: Destroying a dog-fighting ring, making friends with the dogs, and kidnapping the pit boss.

We dragged the pit boss halfway back to town bc we’d left our horses at the inn, and then dragged him into the woods to interrogate.

I woke him up with a slammin’ lute chord (and I was absolutely thinking “SECRET TUNNEEEEELLLLL!” in my head as I did).

Udaji rolled another ‘4’ on her Perception check and someone else in the voice chat said “yeah that’s on-brand for her”.

ZONE OF TRUTH! ZONE OF TRUTH! ZONE OF TRUTH!

(the pit boss calls the dogs ‘stupid animals’) “Someone needs to hold Udaji back, please.”

“Lord Hassan? Yeah, he’s the boss-.....I shouldn’t have said that.”

This poor man didn’t have a high enough intelligence to recognize the spell ‘Zone of Truth’ and is confused af right now.

The second piece of the map to the Crescent Gang’s Hideout was rolled up in a little bottle on a string around the pit boss’ neck - now we have two!

We asked where the third piece was, but the pit boss didn’t know - he gave us a few towns that he thought it might be in, though (such as Caister, in Everton).

Apparently, you need to layer all three map pieces over top of each other to see the full picture - like animation cells!

We asked about the marriage-murder scam, too, but the pit boss didn’t know anything important.

“If these bitches were cute enough then maybe-” *angry Dragonborn noises*

“Maybe we could feed him to the dogs?” “No way! Burnt Toast and Matthias Jr. need a well-balanced diet, not junk food.”

The only thing holding Udaji back from killing this man rn is Claus’ hand on her shin.

We leave the pit boss tied up in the wilderness, and he’s probably going to die. It’s a good thing none of us are Lawful Neutral.

The fastest way to Caister is by boat, which will take about one week, rather than two weeks if by land.

We have to pay to board the horses on the boat, but as long as the sailors were allowed to pet our new dogs, we didn’t have to pay for their boarding.

“What would you like to do on your two week boat ride?”/”I would like to train Matthias Jr. to play dead when shot with a pretend bow and arrow.”

Level Four! Yay!

We had barely landed in Everton when we heard an NPC shouting about a thief.

Mountain was too distracted trying to keep Señor Guapo from eating poison ivy to notice the commotion.

I have only just now realized that I did not include in my last session’s notes that the other two dogs are named “Señor Guapo” and “Joel”.

“Because Claus is a good boy and he is the conscience of this party.”

“We could also surround her. We number quite many.”

*insert Benny Hill theme here as the party & our dogs attempt to surround the suspected thief while our horses graze serenely a few meters away from the chaos*

The thief is a hungry young woman I don’t care what her role in the story is I have already mentally adopted her.

Mountain paid the farmer the five copper the carrots were worth, and the man stormed off, threatening to call the guard if we let her near his farm again.

“You offer her your rations, and she looks at you like you are God.”

The child is absolutely bewildered by the size of Ganondorf the Horse, but then she looked back at me (the Dragonborn) and whispered “Oooh, that makes sense…”

Soothing lute music is good for panic attacks and that’s about all Udaji’s good for right now.

Her name is Colette De Mir, and she claims to have fallen on hard times after receiving a letter pROPOSING MARRIAGE TO A LORD IN EVERTON OH NO-

She survived an attack on her traveling group, and was the only survivor. Lord Hassan tried to kill her, and threw her off of a bridge into a ravine, where she once again managed to cheat death. No-one else in her party survived, and everything in their carriage that could be stolen was.

Burnt Toast and Joel are therapy dogs: Confirmed.

Colette was horrified when we told her that she was not the only one who had been targeted by this scam, and demanded to know what we knew.

Matthias doesn’t trust her, for some reason, but the high Insight roll checks out.

“Yeeting princesses is not a very Lordly activity.”

Colette says she woke up underwater after the fall, and found herself breathing rather normally. What a way to find out you’re a sorcerer.

I lent her one of the costumes from my Entertainer’s pack, to replace her dirty and mismatched clothing as we go into town, and it’s WAY too big for her, considering it was sized for a Dragonborn.

Once we get to town, Astrid and I take Colette on a spa/shopping trip so that she can get cleaned up, and have some proper clothes.

At the inn, Colette tells us that she didn’t know that this town was Caister - she had been told that it was Kenkilly by the ship that had carried her and her entourage.

She was lied to about which town was which, basically, and - being from a completely different country - she had no idea.

Our money from Swadlin is still good in Everton, but almost all of the shopkeepers and merchants could pin us as tourists from our foreign currency.

Colette asks us to take her to Kenkilly, where Lord Hassan is supposedly supposed to be. Safety and strength in numbers, right?

Udaji - having been raised by an overprotective party of retired adventurers in a quiet, but populous, town - has no survival skills of her own.

For all intents and purposes, Colette is a Waterbender. 

Colette has a blue cloak that she tried to hide from the party, and took great care to dry and keep when changing clothes. It was a gift from her mother, meant to protect her.

When we set out the next morning, Colette rode with Astrid and got the tea (whether she wanted it or not) on the rest of the party.

“She has all the embarrassing stories on you, like what you do when you sleep.”/”Oh, no! She’s seen me cuddle my lute??”

Kenkilly is actually a small, rural village on the coast, rather than the larger city it had been made out to be in the letter to her family.

We track down some shady locals to try and get information, and we….are not subtle about it.

Between the Dragonborn, the Tiefling, two half-elves, a princess, and four dogs, we stand out quite a bit.

Matthias joined the shady people for a game of chance with dice, and won a bit of money, but no information.

Mountain joined in the betting, and Astrid is shit-talking both of them while Colette, Claus, and Udaji stand off to the side and watch.

Claus lasts about five minutes before he gives up trying to pretend we aren’t doing some shady BS and goes back to the inn to drink.

Mountain asks about the Crescent gang, but one guy asks for a bribe for his answer. Mountain tries to intimidate him, and fails miserably

Matthias also tried (and failed) to intimidate, but with Astrid’s help, the criminal was successfully intimidated.

Lord Hassan does indeed live in this town (or at least the castle nearby it), and he does not seem to be entirely well-liked by the people.

None of the complaints are super-bad, though….”trash day changes too much”, “the cost of living is too high”, “there’s too many damned foreigners-” Okay. Okay. We get the point.

“Udaji’s gonna look herself up and down from her boots to her flower crown and ask: “Do I look like a cop??’.”

“If we’re gonna ‘case this castle’, may I recommend not sending the Tiefling or the Dragonborn?”

Matthias goes out to scout, and finds out that Lord Hassan has ‘appointment times’ where he is available to the public - the next time being 2pm the next day.

He signs up the party for the 2pm meeting and comes back to the inn where the rest of us are waiting.

“I have been giving you guys tons and tons and TONS of money! You know you can spend it, right??”

The local armorer can upgrade our weapons with silver, but it would take two days, and we don’t expect to be in town that long...bummer.

I bought some new Studded Leather Armor for Udaji, sold her original Leather Armor, AND got it refined - my bby now has an AC of 16 now!

“Why do you still have all these rotten apples in your inventory?!”/”She’s fermenting them!”

Matthias’ player had him eat twenty rotten apples in one sitting just to spite the DM (their sister).

He then had to go throw up in the harbor.

So earlier, Matthias horribly embarrassed Astrid back in the alley, and now she’s refusing to talk to him.

Colette is confirmed for 19 and Udaji is still the baby of the party at 17.

The rest of the party is hanging out in the tavern, completely unawares, as Astrid yeets herself out a second story window to avoid talking to her father.

The innkeeper gave Udaji some alcohol, and Mountain casually stole it, drank it, and said “Underaged drinking is bad.”

Everyone goes around placing dinner orders at the inn and Udaji orders an entire chicken.

Astrid came back after brooding out in the wilderness for a few hours and we settled down to sleep.

Astrid steals a crown that Matthias had ‘found’ in an earlier session for Colette, arguing that “she’s actual royalty, and we’re going to talk to a Lord tomorrow, so we need to make the best impression”.

We also get a ‘glow-up’ montage as Astrid uses Matthias’ disguise kit to alter Colette’s appearance (bc if Lord Hassan really DID try to murder her, then walking straight back into his castle with no disguise would be a death sentence).

Still refusing to talk to her father, Astrid paid a very confused and slightly offended Colette to bring her breakfast in her room, just so she didn’t have to look at Matthias’ smug elven face.

Astrid also does not join us at the castle.

The Lord that we meet in the castle…..is NOT the same Lord that tried to kill Colette.

“It is kind of rude to show up for your scheduled appointment and just stand at the door, not saying anything.”

Colette storms past the party to demand an explanation of Lord Hassan, who is very unimpressed with this strange woman’s attitude.

“She’s a little upsetti spaghetti.”

Udaji’s soothing lute music saves the day again.

We tell the Lord that we are from the land of Swadlin, and were sent to investigate a series of deaths.

This Lord Hassan is a widower who is deeply faithful to his late wife and has no intentions of marrying again, and is VERY confused to hear that someone is using his name.

An advisor steps forward to take over the situation, and Matthias’ successful Insight roll gives him TERRIBLE vibes.

“He’s the kind of person whose teeth are too straight; too white.”

This advisor offered to pay us to investigate who was impersonating his Lord, and despite the bad vibes, Matthias agrees.

“Maybe DON’T intimidate the advisor while surrounded by guards.”

“He’s essentially offering you $7,000 EACH.”

We got sent off to investigate this impersonation of a Lord, and went back to the inn to try and shake off the Bad Vibes and calm Colette down.

Colette draws us a (rough) sketch of a frowning man with a pointed hairline and stiff moustache as the man who threw her off the bridge.

*two minutes of the DM (lovingly) insulting her cat in the background*

Colette says he was incredibly handsome, but Udaji just doesn’t see it.

We decide to try following the river upstream until we find a bridge that matches the one Colette was thrown off of.

Colette uses some of Matthias’ paper to write a letter to her parents, and asks Udaji to come with her to find a sailor to deliver it to her parents (for a modest fee).

The DM brought up the map and showed us the island of Mir, where Colette was from. It is a tiny dot out in the ocean, down in the far right bottom corner of the map. No wonder she needed to sail for two months!

“Matthias drinks one drink and then is blackout drunk.”/”Why do you think I have a kid?”

When we leveled up I took “Suggestion” as my next 2nd level spell, and I absolutely cannot wait to use it.

I CAN TAKE THE “DRAGON WINGS” RACIAL FEATURE AND GIVE UDAJI A 20FT WINGSPAN! Oooooooh boy the sTORYTELLING I can do with this!!!

[rosies-batim-blog]

Ink, Animal Spirits, and Magic

Notes: This story was started a couple years back, just after I'd read and fell in love with the first book in the Witch Boy series by Molly Ostertag. I highly recommend it, not only for its fantasy world and storytelling but for its underlying and very well presented LGBTQ+ themes.

If you get the chance, you should definitely read it.

This is just the prologue, but I do have more written/planned out and have done serious thinking about the universe, my understanding/interpretation of magic, and the identities of the characters. I dearly hope you all enjoy it!

Prologue: The Letter

"Did you find your spirit, my little shifter?"  Hazel eyes glittered in delight.  He was so excited, spirits had been visiting his dreams for months, but he had still been worried he wouldn't meet his spirit during the Finding.  Though he had more on the line than the other boys if he hadn't met his spirit.  After all, he was the only one getting Witchery lessons.

"I found it, Grandma!  It's a bobcat.  I'm a bobcat!  It challenged me to a climbing contest up the rocks by the river, and I won!"  The elderly woman smiled at him, a playful twinkle in her eyes at the boy’s excitement.

"Ah, so you’re a little kitten then."  The boy pouted, crossing his arms with a huff.

"I am not a kitten, Grandma!"  She chuckled, leaning over and ruffling his hair.

"You'll always be a little kitten to me, dearie.  But we have other things to discuss.  Since you've found your form, it's time I taught you how to make a containment rune.  It will make a good defense for you if you are cornered by something too strong for you to handle right away."

"Okay, Grandma."

"Perfect.  Now then, the first thing we'll need is some white chalk..."

.

.

Henry Stein thought of himself as a simple man.  He didn't ask for much in the world; he just wanted to live comfortably and draw cartoons in his free time.  Even if he came from a clan of magic-users, he still didn't think of himself as complicated.

It had been nearly six years since his clan had been wiped out, but he still lived in his grandmother's old home (he was the only one left, he was alone, simply because he hadn't been there when it happened) and cared for the land.  He worked hard around his Clan homes, keeping them clean, making sure the animal spirits were happy, and ensuring that the gardens, animals, and orchards stayed healthy and well.

It wasn't easy for a single person, but it kept him busy (like how he preferred).

Which was why something waking him before the sun could rise immediately alarmed him.  Hazel eyes narrowed as he prowled out of bed.  He snatched his hunting knife on his way out of the room, carefully stalking towards the front door, letting his senses fall into a partial shift as he went.

The scents, sounds, and shapes of the world around him became clearer and more defined than before, letting him pick out every shadow being cast in the darkness, the rustling of the leaves outside, and the scents that filled his home.  He couldn't see or hear or smell anything out of place, but something in the air had changed, there was a tang that hadn't been there before.  Whether it was a living being or some kind of magic was something that remained to be seen, but he knew it was there.

The entirety of the Clan property was protected by boundary spells and wards, nothing that intended harm on those inside them should be able to pass through.  But no one should be coming inside without an invitation either.  (The invitations hadn't initially been part of the protections, he'd added it when he came home.  He still wasn't sure how they'd been breached before.)

Henry didn't know who (or what) was out there, but if they were an intruder, they were going to be in for a very unpleasant surprise once he got his hands on them.

He pressed an ear to the door, listening for some hint of what had woken him, but only heard the natural sounds of the world outside.  His eyes narrowed, becoming even more suspicious at the silence.  Henry braced a shoulder against the door, slowly grasping and turning the doorknob.

Henry let out a snarl and threw the door open as hard as he could, planning to stun anyone standing on the other side, brandishing his knife in a threatening manner.  The door bounced against the wall with a tremendous bang, revealing an empty porch and a darkened yard.

There was no one there.

"What in the..."  Henry started to step out, only to feel something crumple under his barefoot.  He startled, jumping back and looking down at the welcome mat on the front stoop.

Laying there was a single, now slightly crumpled letter bearing his name (and only his name).  No address, no visible runes, no way to tell how it got there, just the name in a messy, blotched scrawl.  In handwriting that he hadn't seen in years not since he had been living among the nonmagicals.

"Joey?"  He muttered in confusion, kneeling to examine the letter.  Joey had never seen Henry's home, he'd never been invited onto the grounds at any point, so how had the letter gotten there?  He picked up the envelope but didn't go back inside, instead calling out into the early morning air.

"Joey?  Are you out there?  Hello?"

Standing in the silence, Henry strained his ears to find some hint of what was going on.  His nose twitched, unable to find any trace of his old friend on the wind.

There was no sign of anyone, never mind Joey Drew, having come onto his property.

"How strange," he murmured to himself.  Henry hesitated at the door, taking one last glance at the darkness outside, then retreated into the house.  Joey wasn't outside, but maybe the letter would hold some answer to the strangeness that had woken him that morning.

Henry wandered into the kitchen, setting the letter and hunting knife down on the counter to turn on the lights and start a cup of tea for himself.  It was too early for him to be running on willpower alone; he needed some caffeine in his system.  And maybe some bacon too.

He'd need the energy to deal with Joey's antics (like always).

He made himself a simple breakfast of bacon, eggs, and some toast as the tea water heated up.  He couldn’t help glancing back at the letter now and again as he cooked, half expecting something to happen if he turned away from it for too long.

He picked it up again, carefully examining the letter.  The handwriting bothered him.

Joey, for all his manic energy and crazy ideas, has always had meticulously neat handwriting.  Never a smudge or line out of place.  Though he could tell Joey had written the letter, it bothered Henry with how…  Different it was from usual.

It was sloppy, smudged, and uneven.  Joey usually would have never sent out something so messy.  Even if it were just going to Henry, his perfectionist views of letters would have never allowed it.  Joey’s scent was faint, but definitely there, confirming its authenticity.  Not only that, but the entire envelope was covered in ink stains and smudges that looked like fingerprints.  It bothered him.

He picked up his knife and slit open the envelope with a smooth flick of his wrist, pulling out an equally stained sheet of paper from inside (where had Joey gotten this?).

Dear Henry,

Please my friend, I need your help.

I’ve done some made a horrible mistake.  I should have listened to you all those years ago.  Come to the old workshop.  I don’t think I can explain it all in a simple letter.  You’d have to see it with your own eyes.  I can’t undo this on my own.

Please Henry, I need you.

Signed,

Joey Drew

Henry reread the letter, brow furrowing in confusion.  What was Joey talking about?  What could Joey have done for him to need to call on him for help?

They’d gotten in a small argument before Henry left, nothing that could genuinely hurt their friendship, but something that had gotten heated at the time.  It had mostly been about how soon Henry would return after dealing with his “family business.”  The wound had still been fresh at the time, so he hadn’t told Joey about the “incident” before the argument had started.  Joey had immediately retracted his complaints when Henry had blown his top and shouted the news he’d been given.

Joey had then told him to take as long as he needed before coming back.  But, with the size of the property, he simply couldn’t balance caring for the land and working at Sillyvision at the same time.

While unhappy about it, Joey had understood that Henry was too loyal to his family to let their homes in despair.

Joey probably would have attended the funerals if Henry had held any open visitor ones.  But, in Family Tradition, he had held several small, private ceremonies on the property and buried everyone in the forest within the boundaries  (safe in the clearings, deep in the woods with all the ancestors that came before them).

Actually, now that he was thinking about it, when was the last time he had contacted Joey?  He’d tried to keep in contact for a while, but…  It must have fallen by the wayside while he cared for the property.  How embarrassing.  How could he have forgotten to keep up with his friends at the studio?

But now, getting this strange letter from Joey, he was worried about what could have happened without him there to keep an eye on things.

He’d been away from the studio long enough; it was long past time he visited.  With how long it had been, he wasn’t sure how well he could draw anymore, but, at the very least, he could take some time to see his friends again.

Henry nodded to himself firmly.  Yes, he would visit and find out what this letter was about.  After he finished his usual morning tasks, he would leave.  He glanced out the window at the still darkened sky and gave a small wince.

He should probably head out once the sun had finally come up.

.

Henry had gone about his usual morning chores, intending to get them done before leaving for the studio.  Doing a weed run in his herb garden, checking his fruit trees, feeding his small number of livestock, just the general chores before going off into the unknown.  The work was mindless, and he rarely had to put much thought into it as he got it done.  His only issue that day was how early he’d started on the chores.  (It took time since he was alone.)  He’d packed a small travel bag, and tossed it into the front passenger seat of his small town car before he began.

Henry had almost crossed the boundary when his mind had finally connected what Joey could have meant when he’d written: “I should have listened to you.”

Years ago, he had found a book of forbidden witchery in Joey’s office.

His grandmother had warned him against trying to learn Witchery on his own; things could easily go wrong if there weren’t someone with more experience watching over you. He hadn’t known the contents of the book in question, but he had recognized the seals on the cover from his grandmother’s lessons on what magics he should always try to avoid.

He had immediately told his friend to get rid of the book, saying that it was dangerous.  Joey, in all his “wisdom” (which was to say, his polite ignorance),  had assured his worried Navajo friend that the book was perfectly harmless.  Henry hadn’t let it go, repeatedly warning Joey books like that were forbidden for a reason.  It had been one of the few arguments between them that hadn’t been quickly resolved.  At some point, Joey had finally told him that he would get rid of the book if it would make Henry feel better.  He had thought that had been the end of it.  But, perhaps it hadn’t been finished so efficiently.

If Joey hadn’t gotten rid of the book, if the fool had actually tried to study from the thing, then…  There could be a very bad situation waiting for him.

But how could the letter have gotten to him?  Joey certainly hadn’t sent it through the post system.  He must have called on wild magic to get the letter to him; it was the only way he could think of for the message to have reached him inside the boundaries.  Though rare, such things could happen if someone was desperate enough for it to happen.

That made a terrible amount of sense to him.

Henry’s heart sank at the thought of Joey not only attempting to cast magic without someone watching him, but illegal magics to boot.  He wrenched the wheel around and hurried back to the house; he would need much more than just his Shapeshifter magics for this.

Now the question was, what should he bring with him?  He had no idea what had been in that book, never mind what Joey could have done to himself with it.

Wait, Joey had mentioned the workshop specifically.  Had that fool been practicing the magic there?  Could it have affected the rest of the crew?

He was going to need a lot of stuff for this.

Chalk was the first thing to spring to mind, followed closely by a medical kit (full kit to be safe).  Runestones would be good too.  And some incense and herbs.  Would the scented ritual candles be too much?  Wait a moment; this was Joey he was talking about.  Joey was firmly believed that if it’s worth doing, it's worth overdoing.

“It’d probably be better to grab the entire Witch’s Weapon box.”  Henry mused to himself, eyes narrowing as he pulled back into the drive and hurried out of the car.  “And I’ll swap to the farming truck while I’m at it.”  Henry half-jogged half-ran to the library; he’d have to call a neighbor to keep an eye on things for a little while.  This was probably going to take some time.

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