#unexpected but Charlie is helping me feel very grounded right now.

[cosmic-ships]

Lookit my cute, adorable, handosm man! He's so ah!

I love him.

By the way, he sucks at playing that ehehe... he's still adorable though because it made him laugh when he tried and I'd do everything and anything to see him smile~

[howtosingit]

Fic: Ice in My Veins, Fire in My Heart

An unexpected, once-in-a-lifetime ice storm in Austin leads to a chaotic day for Carlos and the 126. 

*

Written for @911giftexchange | For @charlie-bradburyss

6K | Also on AO3

A/N: Happy Holidays, Holly! I hope this fulfills all of your “tarlos + fire fam/found family + hurt/comfort (emphasis on the hurt)” wishes. May the New Year bring you all the love and light that you deserve! 

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

The thing is, no one’s really expecting Austin to be pummeled by a once-in-a-lifetime freak ice storm.

Though rare, it’s not unheard of for the Texas panhandle to get hit by the southern tip of major storm systems that move across the Midwest, but Austin is typically too far south to really experience that kind of intense winter weather. Sometimes, they’ll have icy nights that lead to dangerous morning commutes, but that’s mostly because the majority of Austinites aren’t experienced with driving on ice-covered roads. There’s always a surplus of vehicular accidents to respond to on those mornings.

But, this is way more than that.

When TK first looks out the kitchen window, he has to do a double-take to confirm what he’s seeing, his coffee burning the back of his throat as he swallows quickly in shock. Every single inch of the world outside is covered in a shimmering layer of ice - every tree branch and leaf, every fence post and door handle; individual blades of grass find themselves trapped inside a shell of frozen water, and the back patio has turned into a miniature ice skating rink, complete with furniture coated in long, thin icicles.

He takes a moment to admire the ethereal beauty of a rare, wintery Austin, how the early morning sunlight dances across the rooftops of the neighboring houses. Then, realizing what all this ice is going to mean for the rest of his day, he glances down at his watch, cursing when he realizes what time it is.

“Babe!” he calls, grabbing two thermoses from the cupboard. He transfers his coffee into one, then fills the other. “Move faster, we’ve gotta get to work!” He quickly preps Carlos’s coffee the way he knows he likes it, then grabs a few protein bars for each of them to eat on the way to work. “Babe!” he calls again when he doesn’t hear anything from the bedroom.

“What the hell are you yelling for, TK? We still have an hour before our shifts,” Carlos gripes as he comes around the corner, uniform already on and shoes in hand. He gives TK a look of mild annoyance, his signature sass on display, and TK honestly adores him even if he is being obtuse at the moment.

Instead of answering, TK just points out the window, watching as Carlos takes in the icy spectacle, his eyes widening as his jaw drops. “Wow,” his husband breathes out, clearly in awe. Then, having the same realization that TK did, he glances down at his own watch. “Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah, I thought you might say that,” TK laughs, moving towards the hall closet to grab their coats. He reaches towards the back, finding the ice scraper that Carlos kind of made fun of him for buying a few years ago. 

“You made me coffee?” Carlos asks when he reappears, holding his green thermos.

“Of course I did.”

“Have I mentioned that I really love you?” his husband questions, pulling on his coat.

“If this is your way of apologizing for getting sassy with me, I’m going to need you to work a little harder, babe,” TK jokes, sliding up next to him and raising his chin. Carlos rolls his eyes, a smile pulling at his lips as he ducks down to press their mouths together in a gentle kiss.

“How about I give you a ride to work?” Carlos suggests, still close enough that his lips drag against TK’s as he speaks.

“That’s a very sweet offer,” TK says, staring into his husband’s twinkling brown eyes, “but you were going to do that anyway.” Carlos’s police cruiser drives better on ice, so he always drives TK to work if there are hazardous conditions. “Try again.”

“How about,” Carlos starts, his voice going deeper as he trails his lips along TK’s jaw and up to his ear, “I drive you to work now, and then when we get home later, I run you a bath to help warm you up?”

TK hums, his heart rate picking up. “Make it a bath for two, and I’ll consider all of your indiscretions forgiven.”

Carlos huffs out a laugh, moving to press another kiss to his lips. “You are quite the negotiator,” he says, stepping away and grabbing two protein bars off the counter. “I accept your terms.”

The drive to work takes twice as long as usual, Carlos driving as carefully as possible through Austin towards the fire station. The roads seem somewhat deserted, and TK wonders if most people got stuck in their driveways before they could get far enough to cause mayhem in the streets. For the most part, the ice seems to be sticking around longer than it usually does. Carlos pulls to a stop outside Ladder 126. 

“See you later?” TK asks, leaning over the console to give him another kiss.

“Probably sooner than that, I’d guess,” Carlos says, knocking their foreheads together gently, the way he always does when they’re saying goodbye at the start of a workday. TK smiles, reaching for the door and climbing out onto the slick pavement. “Be careful out there.”

“You too, officer,” TK responds, giving him a wink before closing the door. He turns, heading into the station to being what will no doubt be a non-stop day.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Carlos is right. 

Almost immediately after his husband texts him that he made it safely to the police station, they’re called out to an accident on Lakewood Drive. When they arrive, TK spots Carlos in the distance, directing cars to use an alternate route.

A large semi-truck takes up the middle of the bridge, the trailer sitting nearly perpendicular to the tractor section. It still seems to be standing upright, so TK doesn’t immediately understand what accident they’re responding to.

“Officer,” his dad calls when Carlos spots them and starts moving their way, careful on the patches of ice that still remain on the bridge. “What’ve we got here?”

“Semi swerved a bit on the ice into the lane of oncoming traffic. Passenger car coming from the north then swerved to avoid it, completely lost control on the ice, and hit the guardrail on the passenger side,” Carlos reports, pointing in the direction of a mangled section of the barrier. “Car flipped and slid down the embankment.”

“How many passengers?” his dad clarifies, and TK can tell the way he tenses, his brain already working on a plan of action.

“Just the driver, an adult woman,” Carlos answers, his breath visible in the cold morning air. “My partner made it down to her and she’s responsive, but definitely stuck.”

“Okay,” Owen says, turning to face his team, jaw tight. “Jaws of life, everyone down. Medical will be here in a minute, let’s try to have her out for them.”

There’s a near-collective nod from all of them, but before they can move, they hear a crash in the distance. Turning, TK watches as the line of traffic becomes a danger zone of its own when an approaching car is unable to stop before it runs into the car ahead of it. Like, dominoes, the line begins to splay, cars trying to move to avoid being hit. 

“Damn,” his dad sighs, shaking his head. “Change of plan. Ryder, Strickland, Strand-Reyes, you’re down with the jaws of life. Marwani and Chavez, let’s see if we can keep things from getting worse up here.”

TK follows Judd and Paul to the truck, grabbing everything that they might need. As they head towards the damaged guardrail, he passes close to Carlos, nudging him in the side. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love to watch you work?” he says, giving his husband a wink as he moves past him. Carlos follows after him, laughing softly.

“TK, for God’s sake, will you stop flirting with your husband for one day,” Judd cries, and TK looks over to find him smiling at him, his eyes dancing with mirth. 

“Now, come on, Judd,” Paul adds, his tone teasing. “They’re just being newlyweds.”

“Newlyweds?” Judd scoffs, rolling his eyes. “They’ve been married for two years!”

“Oh, wait, you’re right,” Paul says exaggeratedly, like he’s just remembered. He turns back to TK and Carlos, now walking side-by-side, his face morphing into a look of disgust. “Stop being so in-love, it’s getting weird now.”

TK huffs out a fake laugh, his breath swirling through the air as he sticks his tongue out at his friends. They reach the top of the embankment, looking down at the wreckage. The car still seems to be pretty intact, so TK is hoping this won’t be too bad. He feels a solid hand on his back, turning to find Carlos looking at him, his face serious.

“Don’t do anything reckless down there, or I will arrest you,” he jokes, beginning to walk away.

“On what grounds?” TK gasps, his jaw dropping.

Carlos pauses, his eyebrows furrowing as he thinks about it. “Trying to give me a heart attack before I’m 35,” he finally decides, shooting TK a wink before leaving them to go help with the traffic pile-up.

It’s slow-going, but TK, Paul, and Judd finally make it down the hill to the overturned car. Paul moves over to the window, speaking to the woman, while TK and Judd set down their bags. From what he can see, it looks like it’ll be a pretty straightforward removal.

They’re just prying the door open when his dad radios that medical has arrived. TK moves back to one of his bags over by the bridge, looking for more gauze to press to their patient’s shallow head wound, when there’s a loud crack to the right. He looks over, watching as a somewhat large icicle drops from the bridge and shatters onto the frozen creek below. Looking up, he watches another icicle detach itself and rapidly fall to the ground. 

“Shit,” he says, jerking to the side to avoid another one. He feels his feet slide out from under him, unable to gain traction on the ice, and before he knows it, he’s falling flat on his back, his head slamming hard against the solid ground beneath him.

His vision swims, pain coursing through him. His stomach turns, and he feels like he’s going to be sick. He closes his eyes, trying to breath. He thinks he hears a voice in the distance, maybe Paul or Judd calling to him, but he can’t make it out. There’s another loud crack from above, and he opens his eyes just in time to watch a rather large icicle grow larger as it flies towards him.

Pain bursts from his abdomen as he lets out a gasp, his vision swimming once more as his body tries to handle all of the trauma it’s currently experiencing. He clenches his jaw tightly, refusing to let out a yell. He can handle this, he’s done pain before. Between a gunshot and falling through the floor of a house and then falling off the roof of a house just last year, he can handle this. It’s no big deal, so he’s not going to make it one.

He lifts his head, blinking to clear his vision. There are voices around him, fuzzy shapes moving in his peripherals, coming closer. He ignores them, instead looking down towards his stomach. The sight causes him to gasp again, the pain coming back full force now that he has eyes on the source.

There’s an icicle buried inside of his abdomen.

From what he can see, it looks to be as round as his fist and about two feet long, the top of it gleaming threateningly in the sunlight, almost as if it’s proud of itself for the damage it’s just done.

“Fuck,” TK moans, lowering his head as Paul and Judd finally reach his side. He still can’t hear what they’re saying, so he just looks up at the clear blue sky instead. A thought pops into his head, almost making him laugh.

Carlos is totally going to kill him for this.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Sometimes, Carlos really hates living in Texas.

Well, that’s an oversimplification. It’s more that he hates the kind of stereotypical attitude that many straight men from Texas possess. The kind of “I’m built Texas tough” mentality that leads to reckless, dangerous, and truly annoying behavior. The kind of attitude that causes a fully-grown man responsible for a six-car pile-up to scream in his father-in-law’s face about how stupid and moronic everyone else is, including the firefighters currently fixing the mess he’s made, forcing Carlos to handcuff him and stick him in the back of his cruiser just so that they can all get a moment of peace. 

“Did you see the size of that vein in his neck?” Mateo asks as they move from car to car, making sure that everyone’s okay. “I thought he was going to collapse or something, his face was so red.”

“TK’s gonna be so upset that he missed you wrestling him to the ground,” Marjan pipes in from his other side, elbowing him in the ribs. Carlos just rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“You know that’s not a turn-on for him, right?” 

Marjan scoffs. “Sure, okay, I definitely believe that.”

Captain Strand approaches the three of them, effectively ending the conversation. “No one’s injured in those three cars, so I told them all to sit tight until the tow truck gets here. We may be able to help them once we’ve got the driver down there stabilized.” They all nod in agreement. “Marjan, Mateo, why don’t you keep making the rounds, keep people from trying to get out of their cars. We don’t need any unexpected accidents or falls.” The two firefighters accept their orders, moving away. “You’ve got someone directing traffic further down the road?” Owen asks Carlos.

“Yeah, at Lakewood and Carpenter,” Carlos says, pointing in that direction. “We shouldn’t have any traffic through here from now on.”

Before Owen can respond, they hear a sound from the bridge. They both turn to see the ambulance arrive and begin to walk towards it, eager to fill Michelle and her team in on what’s happening. At his side, Owen radios to his team that medical has arrived and will be down soon. 

They’ve just made it onto the bridge, Michelle already making her way towards them, when they hear a shout from down below. They both freeze, trying to listen, but then can’t make out the words. Then, Owen’s radio crackles to life, Judd’s voice coming through, his words rushed.

“We need medical down here ASAP, I’ve got a firefighter down.”

Carlos feels the blood rush from his face, his heart slamming into his ribcage. He shares a look with his father-in-law, and it’s clear that they both know who Judd’s talking about.

“Talk to me, Judd. What’s going on?” Owen says, already heading to the edge of the bridge, Carlos following right behind him. 

He stops short when his eyes land on the scene below. He doesn’t even need Judd's report to confirm what he’s seeing. At the bottom of the embankment, almost under the bridge itself, he sees TK laying on the ground, unmoving, a giant shard of ice sticking out of his midsection.

He doesn’t even think before he takes off down the slope, moving as quickly as he can without falling.

“TK!” he shouts, not even sure if the other man can hear him. He finally gets to the bottom, rushing over to his side. “TK!”

Paul moves aside, allowing him to kneel down by his head. He takes his face gently in his hands, watching as TK’s eyes blink dazily, his pupils unfocused and his mouth slack. 

“Nobody jostle him,” Michelle yells, and Carlos looks up to find her and her team closing in. “We don’t want that thing to shift an inch. Paul, hold it steady for me if you can.”

Carlos stares down at the two-foot icicle currently buried in his husband’s gut. Every time TK breathes, it pulses, almost threatening to fall over. Paul reaches out and wraps his hands around the top, keeping it vertical.

“What happened?” Michelle asks, kneeling on TK’s other side as she assesses the situation.

“He slipped on the ice and fell, then the icicle came down on him before he could move out of the way,” Judd explains. 

“He might have a concussion from the fall,” Michelle mutters, moving to shine a light in TK’s drooping eyes. “Seems likely. Rosewater, take over for Paul, Gillian, see if you can stabilize our patient in the car over there. Carlos,” she says, and his eyes snap up to look at her. “I need you to talk to him okay, try to keep him awake and responding. He could go into shock at any minute, and that’s not going to help us.”

He nods, ducking down to press his face closer to the one that he gets to wake up to every day. “Hey, baby,” he says softly, stroking TK’s forehead. “Hey, it’s me. Can you open your eyes for me? Just open your eyes for a minute, okay?”

TK moans, his eyes blinking rapidly a few times before he opens them enough for Carlos to see those green irises that he loves so much. “Carlos?” he mumbles.

“Yeah, hey, it’s me, I’m right here,” Carlos says, his voice a little unsteady as he tries to stay calm. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold,” TK mutters, his breath creating wisps of steam in the air above him. 

“Any pain?” Carlos asks, his eyes shifting down to glare at the icicle for a moment. 

“My head hurts,” TK admits, letting out a small gasp. 

“Anywhere else?”

TK shakes his head, his eyes darting everywhere.

“That’s probably the adrenaline,” Michelle interjects. She stands up, surveying the bridge above them. “I’m worried his body heat’s going to start melting that icicle faster than we want it to. We’ve gotta get him up there.”

“I don’t think we can get him up the slope without jostling him too much, there’s too much ice,” Tim says. 

Michelle turns to Owen, her face grave. “Get the ladder ready, Captain, we’re gonna have to lift him.”

With only a quick, wide-eyed glance down at his son, Owen shoots back up the hill, Judd following him. Off to the side, Carlos sees that Paul and Nancy have managed to remove the driver from the vehicle.

“Carlos?” TK says, and he quickly looks back down at his husband, running his thumbs along his cheek. 

“Yeah, Ty, I’m right here,” Carlos assures him, his bottom lip wavering. 

“I’m a little scared,” TK admits, his eyes glassy as he stares up at him. “It looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?”

“You’re gonna be okay, cariño,” he says, his voice hard and clear. 

“You look scared,” TK tells him, raising a hand to touch Carlos’s mouth.

“I’m not scared, I promise,” Carlos lies, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m never scared when I’m with you.”

TK doesn’t respond. He just stares up at Carlos, eyes still unfocused, a wide smile taking over his face. 

Minutes later, the team loads TK up on a stretcher with no major problems, and for one shining moment, Carlos thinks everything’s going to be fine. 

He climbs up the embankment as fast as he can to meet him at the top, Michelle at his side. She’s telling him that she’s called for another medical team to come for the driver, who thankfully doesn’t appear to be in critical condition, when they hear a shout from Tim.

“Damn it,” Michelle says, running towards where TK’s stretcher is now laying on the pavement. Carlos follows, his heart back in his throat, and the sight that greets them nearly causes him to collapse. 

“Tim, apply as much pressure as you can,” Michelle says, throwing her hands on TK’s abdomen, blood rushing from where the icicle has shifted. “We have to get him in the van, we’ll have a better chance of stabilizing him there.” 

Carlos watches as TK’s head lists to the side, his eyes dropping closed.

“He’s crashing, let’s move people!” Michelle shouts.

There’s a mad rush all around him, but Carlos barely comprehends it. All he can do is stare at his husband, his unmoving body, the blood draining from his face while simultaneously gushing from the wound in his stomach. 

He doesn’t feel the way his knees hit the pavement, or Marjan’s arms around him. He doesn’t feel the tears falling on his cheeks, or the way he starts to shake. He doesn’t even feel the cold, unfamiliar Austin air. 

As TK is pulled away from him, he doesn’t feel anything at all. 

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

TK wakes up in the hospital.

At this point, it all feels very familiar. Every hospital room seems to smell the same, sterile and uninviting. The sheets are scratchy, which coordinates nicely with the scratchy hospital gown they have him wearing. He can hear the gentle beeping from the monitor next to him, and feel the pinch of an IV in his left arm. 

TK opens his eyes slowly, staring up at the ceiling as he assesses his current state. The lights are low, but it still takes him a minute to adjust, his head faintly throbbing. He recalls how much his head hurt on the scene, how his vision went blurry, and assumes he got a concussion from his fall.

He shifts slightly, gasping as the movement pulls at his midsection and an intense pain radiates throughout his entire body. The sound causes a weight against his right arm to shift, and he looks down, his eyes immediately softening at the sight before him.

Carlos is seated next to the bed, his body bent so that he can rest his head against TK’s arm, which he’s also gripping with one of his hands. His other hand is awkwardly linked with TK’s own, their fingers threaded tightly together. Carlos’s face is turned towards him, his eyes closed as he rests. TK notices how puffy his eyes are, and how his skin is more pale than usual. His heart sinks in his chest, an intense guilt masking his own pain as he stares down at the man he loves more than anything.

Before he can even think about how much pain it might cause, he lifts his left arm across his body to run his fingers through Carlos’s dark brown curls. It’s his favorite thing to do on the rare occasions where he’s the first one to wake up in the morning, and he knows his husband absolutely loves it. Sure enough, Carlos lets out a soft moan, unconsciously tilting his head towards TK’s fingers.

He can tell the minute that Carlos realizes what’s happening by the way his whole body tenses. His eyes fly open, his brown eyes wide as he sits up straight. His gaze finds TK, drinking him in, and TK can’t do anything but smile back at him, squeezing their hands together.

“Ty,” Carlos breathes, his eyes filling with tears.

“Hey, baby,” TK says, pulling gently on Carlos’s hand until he gets the hint.

His husband stands, shifting closer to the head of the bed, before bending down to press a soft kiss to his waiting lips. Carlos tries to make the kiss quick, but TK reaches up to grip the back of his neck, keeping him close.

“How long has it been?” TK asks when they separate, rubbing their noses together. At this point, it’s their traditional question when one of them is in the hospital. 

“They rushed you to surgery when you first got here, which took about four hours,” Carlos explains, his voice shaking as he runs his fingers soothingly through TK’s hair. “You’ve been sleeping for about five.”

“So, still the same day?” TK confirms. It’s an odd question, but after going through one multi-day coma in his life, he’s hoping to never have to do another. Besides, he knows Carlos wouldn’t handle it well.

“Still the same day,” his husband confirms, the first sign of a smile pulling at his lips. 

“That’s good.”

“Very good,” Carlos agrees, leaning in to kiss him. This one feels a little more heated than the last one. “You know how I get when I don’t get to kiss you goodnight.”

“You become the equivalent of a child who’s told he can’t have ice cream right before bed,” TK supplies, enjoying the shocked look that appears on Carlos’s face. “Or so I’m told.”

“Told?” Carlos cries. “Who told you that? Give me the traitors’ names, Tyler!”

“Just for that, I’m not going to,” he laughs, gasping for air when the movement sends a flare of pain through him. 

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks, worry written clearly on his face. He reaches out, his hands fluttering around him but too afraid to touch. 

“Yeah, I just,” TK grits out, holding his side. “Fuck, that does not feel good.”

It takes a few minutes of deep breathing for him to finally settle back down, reaching for Carlos’s hand when he’s sure that his grip won’t break his fingers. Carlos gingerly takes a seat next to him on the bed, running his free hand through his hair to soothe him.

TK’s just about to ask exactly what the damage is when there’s a knock on the door. They both turn to find his dad poking his head through, an apologetic smile on his face.

“Hey boys, sorry to interrupt,” he says, glancing behind him at something they can’t see. “There’s just some people here who wanted to say a quick hello.”

TK rolls his eyes, sharing a smile with Carlos. This happens every time someone from the firehouse ends up in the hospital - though to be fair, it’s usually him.

“You know you can always let them in, Dad,” he says, his fondness clear in his tone. Carlos just scoots a little closer, pressing one last kiss to his lips. 

“I love you,” he mutters, his eyes shining.

“I love you, too,” TK whispers back as the door is thrown wide open and the equivalent of a clown car files into his room.

Judd and Grace lead the way, followed by Paul, Marjan, and Mateo, then Michelle, Tim, and Nancy. His dad, the last one, closes the door behind him. Strictly speaking, this is way too many visitors to have in a single room at a time, but there are nurses at every hospital who are willing to bend the rules a bit for familiar first responders, as long as they’re discreet about it.

TK looks around at them all - Grace, with her hand on Carlos’s shoulder, and Michelle at the foot of his bed, her eyes glinting with happiness; his dad standing next to her; Mateo, Marjan, and Paul all standing to his left, Paul reaching out to punch him lightly on the shoulder, a bright smile on his face. 

They’re his family, all of them. And they all saved his life today.

“I, um,” he starts, his voice thick with emotion as he looks around at them all. He feels Carlos’s hand slide up his arm, his thumb gently caressing his bicep in support. He turns to look at him, noticing how Carlos still has his back to most of the room as he faces him on the bed. They share a look, just between the two of them, and Carlos nods, a tear falling down his cheek as he squeezes TK’s arm.

“I, um, I wanted to thank you all,” TK says, looking around the room again, his eyes hovering over every face that makes him feel safe and loved and whole, “for saving me today. I - we - will never be able to tell you how much it means to know that we have all of you by our side, looking out for us.”

He feels a tear fall onto his cheek, but before he can reach up to brush it away, Michelle shifts from the end of his bed, coming around the side to stand next to him. She reaches out for him and Carlos, drying his face and gripping his husband’s arm tightly.

“Don’t be silly. You boys are our family,” Michelle says, “so we’re always going to be here for you. No matter what. It’s as simple as that.”

“She’s right,” Judd pipes in, his arm around Grace. “Though, full disclosure, we are gifting you a bulk-size roll of bubble wrap this Christmas.”

“Hey now, c’mon Judd,” Paul says, his hands buried in his pockets. “You weren’t supposed to tell him.”

“Ignore Judd, y’all,” Grace adds, rolling her eyes as she pats her husband’s chest. “He doesn’t do Christmas shopping, and I have much better taste, trust me on that.”

TK huffs out a laugh, wincing at the way it pulls at his injury. No one else catches it, too busy laughing at Grace’s comment and Judd’s offended expression. He glances over at Carlos, seeing a tightness behind his eyes, and knows that his pain didn’t go completely unnoticed. TK reaches over, squeezing his thigh where it’s pressed against his own. Carlos gives him a small smile, grabbing his hand to press a kiss to his fingertips.

The tightness in his eyes doesn’t go anywhere, though, and TK’s heart caves.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

The team stays until visiting hours are over, laughing and joking as they fill TK and Carlos in about the rest of the work day. It seems that much of the ice started to melt by the middle of the afternoon, making the end of the day much easier than the beginning. Finally, a nurse comes in, shocked to find so many people in one room, and tells them that visiting hours are over. One-by-one, they come over to hug TK and Carlos, Grace even pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. 

When only Carlos and his dad remain, the nurse checks his vitals, telling him that everything appears to be normal. Carlos stands by his side, hand on his shoulder, as TK honestly answers her questions about his pain levels. She helps him to adjust his position on the bed, showing Carlos how to help him so he’ll feel the least amount of pain. His husband listens closely, his face set and serious.

She leaves, and Carlos excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving him alone with his dad.

“How’re you feeling, kid?” his dad asks, sitting next to him. 

“A little tender,” he admits, running his hand lightly over the thick bandage on his stomach. They’re quiet for a moment, TK biting his bottom lip. “It was pretty bad, wasn’t it?” he finally asks.

His dad looks at him, his eyes softening, before reaching out and taking his hand. “You crashed right before they got you in the ambulance. The icicle hit a pretty major blood vessel near your liver, and you lost a lot of blood when it shifted unexpectedly.”

TK is quiet, thoughts rolling through his mind. “He saw, didn’t he?” he confirms, his voice barely more than a hushed whisper. 

“Yeah,” his dad admits, his tone heavy. “He wasn’t in a good place when you left, so his partner drove him here and Michelle stayed with him until I could come.” TK nods, his eyes filling with tears. “He’s gonna be okay, though, TK. You both are.”

His dad stands again, looking around the room. “I’m going to head home,” he says, reaching out to run his fingers through TK’s hair. “I know you’re in good hands for the night. I’ll come back first thing in the morning, okay?”

“Yeah,” TK says. Then, he gets an idea. “Can you help me shift a little?”

His dad smiles knowingly before reaching out again to help move him to the left side of the bed, TK breathing deeply through the pain. 

Carlos finally comes out of the bathroom and his dad gives them both a hug, TK watching as he whispers something in his husband’s ear before pressing a kiss to his temple. Then, with a final wave, they’re alone again.

“Hey,” TK says, breaking the silence.

“Hey,” Carlos parrots back, his voice thin and uneven.

“Come here,” TK says, patting the now open space beside him. Carlos moves across the room, glancing down at the spot doubtfully.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Ty,” he says, his eyes full of so much pain.

“Well, I don’t want to go another minute without you laying by my side, so get your ass up here.” The hard tone of his voice leaves no room for questions, so his husband sighs, sliding next to him as gently as possible.

They lay there for a moment, just breathing together. Then, like a dam breaking, Carlos turns onto his side, placing an arm over his chest as he tucks his face into TK’s neck. In no time at all, TK feels tears soaking the collar of his gown, and his own tears finally fall at the evidence of Carlos’s silent pain.

“I’m so sorry for scaring you today, baby,” he sobs, bringing his hand up to press against the dark curls near his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

Carlos doesn’t respond except to shake his head, his sobs continuing. TK holds him through it, his heart shattering into a million pieces in his chest. Throughout the past four year, Carlos has had a few nightmares of TK bleeding out in front of him - caused by him getting shot before they even started dating - so he knows that today had to be especially brutal for his husband.

“I know it was an accident, and that you’re going to be okay now,” Carlos finally mumbles into his neck, “but I was so fucking scared that I had lost you there for a minute. I’ve never seen Michelle so intense before, and I really thought this was it.”

“I know, baby, I know,” TK says, trailing his fingers along the back of Carlos’s neck. He digs his nails in just a bit, knowing that the feeling will help ground Carlos. Sure enough, his husband shivers against him, letting out a shaky breath. “You didn’t lose me, though. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” Carlos asks weakly.

“Babe, look at me,” TK says, pulling his head back to look down at him. Carlos’s eyes are red-rimmed, his face puffy from crying so much today. He looks so small, so cut open and raw, that TK wishes he could take all of his pain away. “I promise that I am going to do everything in my power to come home to you in one piece at the end of every day, okay?”

Carlos nods, his eyes falling closed. TK stares at his long, gorgeous eyelashes now soaked with tears. Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to each eyelid, feeling the way that Carlos relaxes further into his side. 

“I’m sorry that our bath plans got ruined for this evening,” he says after a few minutes, recalling their conversation from this morning. 

“That’s okay,” Carlos says, his fingers lightly tracing TK’s collarbone through his hospital gown. “Once I get you home, I’m probably never going to let you leave again, so there will be plenty of time for baths.”

TK laughs, ignoring the pain when Carlos joins him. “I like the sound of that,” he admits.

Their gazes lock for a moment before Carlos presses up until their lips meet, the kiss igniting a fire inside of him from head to toe. It doesn’t matter how many times he gets to kiss Carlos, TK thinks that each one feels new and different and life-affirming, his body and soul practically singing at the chance to connect with his husband in a way that no one else can. That no one else ever will.

It’s something that he knows he’ll never get tired of for as long as he lives.

Which will be a very, very long time.

He’s sure of it.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

[a-simple-imagine]

Griffy

Synopsis: Charlie has a surprise for you

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

Words: 1.8k

A/N - Another story featuring my favourite dragon boi!! It’s just fluff but I enjoyed writing it.

Warnings - mentions of danger

The sun beamed brightly in the clear blue sky casting a brilliant warm glow over the two of you. Your eyes hidden behind Charlie Weasley's hands as he leads you forward as carefully as possible; you'd almost fallen many times but you appreciated that he had managed to save you each time. "Where are we going?" You request. The sound of leaves and twigs crunch under your feet, giving away your location.

"It's a surprise," he says ever so softly into your ear. You don't like surprises; not from Charlie anyway they were always... a little too much.

"This doesn't have anything to do with dragons does it?" An uneasy groan emits from your throat as you slow to a halt. You had a very bad feeling about this.

Are you ready?" No, but you nod anyway just wanting to get this over with. "Are you sure-"

Taking hold of his wrists, you remove his hands bringing you face to face with a terrible size. With wide eyes, you scramble backwards only to fall into Charlie. He always seemed to be there to catch you. "That's a..." It had the front legs, wings, and head of an eagle paired with the hind legs and tail of a horse. It was mahogany brown and very big. You swallow hard, you've never been too good with animals. You've read many books about them but they could never prepare you for the real thing. "A Hippogriff."

"So what do you think?" Charlie runs a reassuring hand up and down your arm in a slow but steady rhythm. "Pretty cool right? His name is Griffy the Hippogriff."

"Griffy?"

Charlie chuckles lowly, "don't judge- I let Ginny pick the name."

"Ah," it was only now, you realised you were still in his warm embrace and heat immediately rushed to your cheeks. Standing up a little straighter, you brush yourself off. "I... I don't know what to say."

"Do you wanna pet him?"

You shake your head rapidly. He was joking, right? "Absolutely not! I'm not going anywhere near that beast."

"He's really quite gentle."

Your eyes drift to the razor-sharp talons on its front legs; they could definitely do some major damage and you wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. "That thing could kill me." You turn to look at him as his smile begins to fade. Well now you felt kind of bad; he seemed so excited before. With a heavy sigh, you turn back to the Hippogriff.  "So what do I have to do?"

"Hmm?"

"I wanna pet him," it was rather hard to ignore the claws though. "I just don't want to offend him."

With a giddy smile on full display, he strides over to the half-bird creature. "I'll show you okay? It's really simple and he likes me." He declares proudly. Charlie may be obsessed with Dragons but he was also good with other animals too. You found his charming smile and passionate personality rather easy to warm up to so you don't find it difficult to imagine that animals are drawn to him. "Hippogriffs are very proud-"

"Charlie, I've read books. I know all this just show me." You urge. Hippogriffs were very proud creatures and easily offended. You didn't want to get on the bad side of one for obvious reasons. It was also considered polite to let the Hippogriff make the first move.

"You just bow like so," his right arm rested against his stomach and he bowed towards the creature. It seemed rather silly but he knew more than you did. "If he bows back then you can pet him. If not? well, then I'll fix you right up. I know a lot of healing spells."

That didn't instil a lot of confidence. "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course."

The redhead stepped aside to give you some space. With a deep breath, you walk a little closer. It was huge and all your confidence drained out of your body as you mind wandered to the deep golden beak and the talons. It also had massive wings that could knock you over. And powerful back legs to kick you with. Charlie gives you a thumbs up as you look to him and then back. Lips curling into an unsure smile, you very slowly lower your head and bow towards the creature. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions and if you were being honest, it felt ridiculous to do but now you were almost too scared to move. It feels like you've been bowing forever but that could just be your nerves. You sneak a peak sharply, startling Griffy into a buck. He had looked big before but now he was like ten times worse. A high pitched screech filled the clearing. "Back away- now." But you remain completely frozen still bowing. The large thump of its front legs returning to the ground was a good sign, right? It had not attacked you. You find yourself too anxious to look up again until you hear Charlie's voice. "He can be a little grumpy."

"So he likes me?" Stealing a glance, the animal had now lowered its head in an elegant bow; one leg lifted into the air. He truly was a magnificent creature but still very intimidating. Standing up straight, you smile softly as you look to Charlie who is smiling ear to ear.

"You can stroke him now."

With shaky hands, you reach out cautiously until you feel soft feathers against your skin. It looked so small compared to the beast who now nuzzled against your palm. "He feels soft." You glance towards the boy that was now beside you, he offered a warm smile. The lightest shade of pink dusting his freckled cheeks as he looked upon you.

"They like to keep themselves well-groomed," He explains, brushing his hand through the feathers; accidentally bumping into you, he pulls his hand away. "So... he uh... should be willing to let you ride him now."

"What? No." You back away a little with wide eyes. "I think this is close enough."

"Come on, it'll be fun." His expression softened as he met your Y/E/C eyes. There was. Puppy dog charm to each of the Weasley's but Charlie had a way of just looking at you until you gave in.

"Charlie," You groan; attention returned to the hippogriff so you didn't have to look into those big pleading eyes anymore. "It's- I- cant! What if something happens?"

"Nothing will happen," His attempt to calm your nerves fell on death ears. This was insane. Charlie was insane. He climbs onto the back of the hippogriff, careful not to hit his massive wings; one hand held out just for you. "I promise." You hated the fact you were considering this but you want to keep him happy. You want to see his cheesy smile. Taking his hand, he helps you up onto the back of the animal. "Just hold on tight to me, okay? Griffy will not be happy if you pull out any of his feathers."

It wasn't so bad up here once you realised it was relatively safe. You didn't know exactly where to place your hands, it felt awkward grabbing onto him. The half-bird stepped forward and all awkwardness was thrown out the window as you latch onto the boy. "Maybe we shouldn't do this? It's safer on the ground."

"It'll be fine,"

Wings spread out wide startling you as it flaps a few times before beginning to run. You tighten your grip. The wind picks up; feeling brisk against your face which you bury into his shoulder. The running had stopped, that much you could tell and the sound of flapping wings indicated you were in the air however, you couldn't bring yourself to look. "I don't like this," it's a whisper to yourself more than anyone else.

"Open your eyes,"

You shake your head against him. "They're open. It's great. Can... we land now?"

"No, they're not," How could he possibly know that? "Just trust me, okay?" 

"Trust you," you repeat slowly. With a deep breath, you slowly open your eyes and your mouth drops. You were so high up that if you fell, you'd not be getting can up but it was spectacular. You dared not to let go of Charlie but you looked around yourself admiring the lush green fields and rolling hills. Massive lakes of water that shone a deep blue against the sunlight. You felt both sick with glee and fear of an untimely demise.

"This is... beautiful," you mumble quietly, grip tightening around Charlie as the Hippogriff turned sharply. "Utterly breathtaking."

"I told you," The happiness laced in his voice was pleasing to the ear. "I can take us back down if you still want to?"

"No," You reply sharply, your smile growing at the tiny buildings you spot below. "Can we stay up here a little longer."

"Of course," His laughter drifting with the wind.

"Do you do this a lot?" You wonder, finally relaxing around him; there was a hint of embarrassment behind your actions. Your grip must have felt like a vice.

"Not too often," He muses. "But it's not my first time. It's kinda like riding a broom."

It was nothing like riding a broom at least not in your experience then again you didn't like flying on a broom either.

"Explains why your head is always up in the clouds," You tease. You'd ruffle his hair if you weren't terrified of letting go. "It's... cute."

"Cute?"

"Mhmm," You hum. "We should head back,"

"Alright," The Hippogriffs wings stretch up and the next thing you know, your stomach drops as Griffy dives straight down. It almost felt like you were about to throw up and it's instinct to grab onto Charlie; hiding your embarrassment and fear literally behind his back. It felt like forever before you realised you'd finally returned to land and you couldn't get down fast enough. It felt so good to be on solid ground again even if you were feeling a little wobbly.

"Did you like my surprise?" Charlie asks as he slides down off Griffy's back.

"You're something else Charlie Weasley," It had been unexpected, you had to give the boy points for trying. It was a very unique surprise and in the end, it had been rather interesting. "but yeah it was pretty cool."

"I knew you'd like it," He takes your hand in his and while his next words had been spoken with as much confidence as he could muster, you couldn't help but notice he was blushing. "let's go eat- I'm starving."

Squeezing his hand gently, you nod a little. "Let's."

[grigori77]

Summer 2021′s Movies - My Top Ten Favourite Films (Part 2)

The Top Ten:

10.  WEREWOLVES WITHIN – definitely one of the year’s biggest cinematic surprises so far, this darkly comic supernatural murder mystery from indie horror director Josh Ruben (Scare Me) is based on a video game, but you’d never know it – this bears so little resemblance to the original Ubisoft title that it’s a wonder anyone even bothered to make the connection, but even so, this is now notable for officially being the highest rated video game adaptation in Rotten Tomatoes history, with a Certified Fresh rating of 86%. Certainly it deserves that distinction, but there’s so much more to the film – this is an absolute blood-splattered joy, the title telling you everything you need to know about the story but belying the film’s pure, quirky genius.  Veep’s Sam Richardson is forest ranger Finn Wheeler, a gentle and socially awkward soul who arrives at his new post in the remote small town of Beaverton to discover the few, uniformly weird residents are divided over the oil pipeline proposition of forceful and abrasive businessman Sam Parker (The Hunt’s Wayne Duvall).  As he tries to fit in and find his feet, investigating the disappearance of a local dog while bonding with local mail carrier Cecily Moore (Other Space and This Is Us’ Milana Vayntrub), the discovery of a horribly mutilated human body leads to a standoff between the townsfolk and an enforced lockdown in the town’s ramshackle hotel as they try to work out who amongst them is the “werewolf” they suspect is responsible.  This is frequently hilarious, the offbeat script from appropriately named Mishna Wolff (I’m Down) dropping some absolutely zingers and crafting some enjoyably weird encounters and unexpected twists, while the uniformly excellent cast do much of the heavy-lifting to bring their rich, thoroughly oddball characters to vivid life – Richardson is thoroughly cuddly throughout, while Duvall is pleasingly loathsome, Casual’s Michaela Watkins is pleasingly grating as Trisha, flaky housewife to unrepentant local horn-dog Pete Anderton (Orange is the New Black’s Michael Chernus), and Cheyenne Jackson (American Horror Story) and Harry Guillen (best known, OF COURSE, as Guillermo in the TV version of What We Do In the Shadows) make an enjoyably spiky double-act as liberal gay couple Devon and Joaquim Wolfson; in the end, though, the film is roundly stolen by Vayntrub, who invests Cecily with a bubbly sweetness and snarky sass that makes it absolutely impossible to not fall completely in love with her (gods know I did).  This is a deeply funny film, packed with proper belly-laughs from start to finish, but like all the best horror comedies it takes its horror elements seriously, delivering some enjoyably effective scares and juicy gore, while the werewolf itself, when finally revealed, is realised through some top-notch prosthetics.  Altogether this was a most welcome under-the-radar surprise for the summer, and SO MUCH MORE than just an unusually great video game adaptation …

9.  THE TOMORROW WAR – although cinemas finally reopened in the UK in early summer, the bite of the COVID lockdown backlog was still very much in effect this blockbuster season, with several studios preferring to hedge their bets and wait for later release dates. Others turned to streaming services, including Paramount, who happily lined up a few heavyweight titles to open on major platforms in lieu of the big screen.  One of the biggest was this intended sci-fi action horror tentpole, meant to give Chris Pratt another potential franchise on top of Guardians of the Galaxy and Jurassic World, which instead dropped in early July on Amazon Prime.  So, was it worth staying in on a Saturday night instead of heading out for something on the BIG screen?  Mostly yes, although it’s mainly a trashy, guilty pleasure big budget B-picture charm that makes this such a worthwhile experience – the film’s biggest influences are clearly Independence Day and Starship Troopers, two admirably clunky blockbusters that DEFINED prioritising big spectacle and overblown theatrics over intelligent writing and realistic storytelling.  It doesn’t help that the premise is pure bunk – in 2022, a wormhole opens from thirty years in the future, and a plea for help is sent back with a bunch of very young future soldiers.  Seems Earth will become overrun by an unstoppable swarm of nasty alien critters called Whitespikes in 25 years, and the desperate human counteroffensive have no choice but to bring soldiers from our present into the future to help them fight back and save the humanity from imminent extinction.  Less than a year later, the world’s standing armies have been decimated and a worldwide draft has been implemented, with normal everyday adults being sent through for a seven day tour from which very few return.  Pratt plays biology teacher and former Green Beret Dan Forrester, one of the latest batch of draftees to be sent into the future along with a selection of chefs, soccer moms and other average joes – his own training and experience serves him better than most when the shit hits the fan, but it soon becomes clear that he’s just as out of his depth as everyone else as the sheer enormity of the threat is revealed.  But when he becomes entangled with a desperate research outfit led by Muri (Chuck’s Yvonne Strahovski) who seem to be on the verge of a potential world-changing scientific breakthrough, Dan realises there just might be a slender hope for humanity after all … this is every bit as over-the-top gung-ho bonkers as it sounds, and just as much fun.  Director Chris McKay may still be pretty fresh (with only The Lego Batman Movie under his belt to date), but he shows a lot of talent and potential for big budget blockbuster filmmaking here, delivering with guts and bravado on some major action sequences (a fraught ticking-clock SAR operation through a war-torn Miami is the film’s undeniable highlight, but a desperate battle to escape a blazing oil rig also really impresses), as well as handling some impressively complex visual effects work and wrangling some quality performances from his cast (altogether it bodes well for his future, which includes Nightwing and Johnny Quest as future projects).  Chris Pratt can do this kind of stuff in his sleep – Dan is his classic fallible and self-deprecating but ultimately solid and kind-hearted action hero fare, effortlessly likeable and easy to root for – and his supporting cast are equally solid, Strahovsky going toe-to-toe with him in the action sequences while also creating a rewardingly complex smart-woman/badass combo in Muri, while the other real standouts include Sam Richardson (Veep, Werewolves Within) and Edwin Hodge (The Purge movies) as fellow draftees Charlie and Dorian, the former a scared-out-of-his-mind tech geek while the latter is a seriously hardcore veteran serving his THIRD TOUR, and the ever brilliant J.K. Simmonds as Dan’s emotionally scarred estranged Vietnam-vet father, Jim.  Sure, it’s derivative as hell and thoroughly predictable (with more than one big twist you can see coming a mile away), but the pace is brisk, the atmosphere pregnant with a palpable doomed urgency, and the creatures themselves are a genuinely convincing world-ending threat, the design team and visual effects wizards creating genuine nightmare fuel in the feral and unrelenting Whitespikes.  Altogether this WAS an ideal way to spend a comfy Saturday night in, but I think it could have been JUST AS GOOD for a Saturday night OUT at the Pictures …

8.  ARMY OF THE DEAD – another high profile release that went straight to streaming was this genuine monster hit for Netflix from one of this century’s undeniable heavyweight action cinema masters, the indomitable Zack Snyder, who kicked off his career with an audience-dividing (but, as far as I’m concerned, ultimately MASSIVELY successful) remake of George Romero’s immortal Dawn of the Dead, and has finally returned to zombie horror after close to two decades away.  The end result is, undeniably, the biggest cinematic guilty pleasure of the entire summer, a bona fide outbreak horror EPIC in spite of its tightly focused story – Dave Bautista plays mercenary Scott Ward, leader a badass squad of soldiers of fortune who were among the few to escape a deadly outbreak of a zombie virus in the city of Las Vegas, enlisted to break into the vault of one of the Strip’s casinos by owner Bly Tanaka (a fantastically game turn from Hiroyuki Sanada) and rescue $200 million still locked away inside.  So what’s the catch?  Vegas remains ground zero for the outbreak, walled off from the outside world but still heavily infested within, and in less than three days the US military intends to sterilise the site with a tactical nuke.  Simple premise, down and dirty, trashy flick, right?  Wrong – Snyder has never believed in doing things small, having brought us unapologetically BIG cinema with the likes of 300, Watchmen, Man of Steel and, most notably, his version of Justice League, so this is another MASSIVE undertaking, every scene shot for maximum thrills or emotional impact, each set-piece executed with his characteristic militaristic precision and explosive predilection (a harrowing fight for survival against a freshly-awakened zombie horde in tightly packed casino corridors is the film’s undeniable highlight), and the gauzy, dreamlike cinematography gives even simple scenes an intriguing and evocative edge that really does make you feel like you’re watching something BIG.  The characters all feel larger-than-life too – Bautista can seem somewhat cartoonish at times, and this role definitely plays that as a strength, making Scott a rock-hard alpha male in the classic Hollywood mould, but he’s such a great actor that of course he’s able to invest the character with real rewarding complexity beneath the surface; Ana de la Reguera (Eastbound & Down) and Nora Arnezeder (Zoo, Mozart in the Jungle), meanwhile, both bring a healthy dose of oestrogen-fuelled badassery to proceedings as, respectively, Scott’s regular second-in-command, Maria Cruz, and Lilly the Coyote, Power’s Omari Hardwick and Matthias Schweighofer (You Are Wanted) make for a fun odd-couple double act as circular-saw-wielding merc Vanderohe and Dieter, the nervous, nerdy German safecracker brought in to crack the vault, and Fear the Walking Dead’s Garrett Dillahunt channels spectacular scumbag energy as Tanaka’s sleazy former casino boss Martin, while latecomer Tig Notaro (Star Trek Discovery) effortlessly rises above her last-minute-casting controversy to deliver brilliantly as sassy and acerbic chopper pilot Peters.  I think it goes without saying that Snyder can do this in his sleep, but he definitely wasn’t napping here – he pulled out all the stops on this one, delivering a thrilling, darkly comic and endearingly CRACKERS zombie flick that not only compares favourably to his own Dawn but is, undeniably, his best film for AGES.  Netflix certainly seem to be pleased with the results – a spinoff prequel, Army of Thieves, starring Dieter in another heist thriller, is set to drop in October, with an animated series following in the Spring, and there’s already rumours of a sequel in development.  I’m certainly up for more …

7.  BLACK WIDOW – no major blockbuster property was hit harder by COVID than the MCU, which saw its ENTIRE SLATE for 2020 delayed for over a year in the face of Marvel Studios bowing to the inevitability of the Pandemic and unwilling to sacrifice those all-important box-office receipts by just sending their films straight to streaming.  The most frustrating part for hardcore fans of the series was the delay of a standalone film that was already criminally overdue – the solo headlining vehicle of founding Avenger and bona fide female superhero ICON Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow.  Equally frustratingly, then, this film seems set to be overshadowed by real life controversy as star and producer Scarlett Johansson goes head-to-head with Disney in civil court over their breach-of-contract after they hedged their bets by releasing the film simultaneously in cinemas and on their own streaming platform, which has led to poor box office as many of the film’s potential audience chose to watch it at home instead of risk movie theatres with the virus still very much remaining a threat (and Disney have clearly reacted AGAIN, now backtracking on their release policy by instigating a new 45-day cinematic exclusivity window on all their big releases for the immediate future). But what of the film itself?  Well Black Widow is an interesting piece of work, director Cate Shortland (Berlin Syndrome) and screenwriter Eric Pearson (Thor: Ragnarok) delivering a decidedly stripped-back, lean and intellectual beast that bears greater resemblance to the more cerebral work of the Russo Brothers on their Captain America films than the more classically bombastic likes of Iron Man, Thor or the Avengers flicks, concentrating on story and characters over action and spectacle as we wind back the clock to before the events of Infinity War and Endgame, when Romanoff was on the run after Civil War, hunted by the government-appointed forces of US Secretary of State “Thunderbolt” Ross (William Hurt) after violating the Sokovia Accords.  Then a mysterious delivery throws her back into the fray as she finds herself targeted by a mysterious assassin, forcing her to team up with her estranged “sister” Yelena Belova (Midsommar’s Florence Pugh), another Black Widow who’s just gone rogue from the same Red Room Natasha escaped years ago, armed with a McGuffin capable of foiling a dastardly plot for world domination.  The reluctant duo need help in this endeavour though, enlisting the aid of their former “parents”, veteran Widow and scientist Melina Vostokoff (Rachel Weisz) and Alexie Shostakov (Stranger Things’ David Harbour), aka the Red Guardian, a Russian super-soldier intended to be their counterpart to Captain America, who’s been languishing in a Siberian gulag for the last twenty years. After the Earth-shaking, universe-changing events of recent MCU events, this film certainly feels like a much more self-contained, modest affair, playing for much smaller stakes, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less worthy of our attention – this is as precision-crafted as anything we’ve seen from Marvel so far, but it also feels like a refreshing change of pace after all those enormous cosmic shenanigans, while the script is as tight as a drum, propelling a taut, suspense-filled thriller that certainly doesn’t scrimp on the action front.  Sure, the set-pieces are very much in service of the story here, but they’re still the pre-requisite MCU rollercoaster rides, a selection of breathless chases and bone-crunching fights that really do play to the strengths of one of our favourite Avengers, but this is definitely one of those films where the real fireworks come when the film focuses on the characters – Johansson is so comfortable with her character she’s basically BECOME Natasha Romanoff, kickass and ruthless and complex and sassy and still just desperate for a family (though she hides it well throughout the film), while Weisz delivers one of her best performances in years as a peerless professional who keeps her emotions tightly reigned in but slowly comes to realise that she was never more happy than when she was pretending to be a simple mother, and Ray Winstone does a genuinely fantastic job of taking a character who could have been one of the MCU’s most disappointingly bland villains, General Dreykov, master of the Red Room, and investing him with enough oily charisma and intense presence to craft something truly memorable (frustratingly, the same cannot be said for the film’s supposed main physical threat, Taskmaster, who performs well in their frustratingly brief appearances but ultimately gets Darth Maul levels of short service).  The true scene-stealers in the film, however, are Alexie and Yelena – Harbour’s clearly having the time of his life hamming it up as a self-important, puffed-up peacock of a superhero who never got his shot and is clearly (rightly) decidedly bitter about it, preferring to relive the life he SHOULD have had instead of remembering the good in the one he got; Pugh, meanwhile, is THE BEST THING IN THE WHOLE MOVIE, easily matching Johanssen scene-for-scene in the action stakes but frequently out-performing her when it comes to acting, investing Yelena with a sweet naivety and innocence and a certain amount of quirky geekiness that makes for one of the year’s most endearing female protagonists (certainly one who, if the character goes the way I think she will, is thoroughly capable of carrying the torch for the foreseeable future).  In the end this is definitely one of the LEAST typical, by-the-numbers MCU films to date, and by delivering something a little different I think they’ve given us just the kind of leftfield swerve the series needs right now.  It’s certainly one of their most fascinating and rewarding films so far, and since it seems to be Johansson’s final tour of duty as the Black Widow, it’s also a most fitting farewell indeed.

6.  WRATH OF MAN – Guy Ritchie’s latest (regarded by many as a triumphant return to form, which I consider unfair since I don’t think he ever went away, especially after 2020’s spectacular The Gentlemen) is BY FAR his darkest film – let’s get this clear from the start.  Anyone who knows his work knows that Ritchie consistently maintains a near flawless balance and humour and seriousness in his films that gives them a welcome quirkiness that is one of his most distinctive trademarks, so for him to suddenly deliver a film which takes itself SO SERIOUSLY is one hell of a departure.  This is a film which almost REVELS in its darkness – Ritchie’s always loved bathing in man’s baser instincts, but Wrath of Man almost makes a kind of twisted VIRTUE out of wallowing in the genuine evils that men are capable of inflicting on each other.  The film certainly kicks off as it means to go on – In a tour-de-force single-shot opening, we watch a daring armoured car robbery on the streets of Los Angeles that goes horrifically wrong, an event which will have devastating consequences in the future.  Five months later, Fortico Security hires taciturn Brit Patrick Hill (Jason Statham) to work as a guard in one of their trucks, and on his first run he single-handedly foils another attempted robbery with genuinely uncanny combat skills. The company is thrilled, amazed by the sheer ability of their new hire, but Hill’s new colleagues are more concerned, wondering exactly what they’ve let themselves in for.  After a second foiled robbery, it becomes clear that Hill’s reputation has grown, but fellow guard Haiden (Holt McCallany), aka “Bullet”, begins to suspect there might be something darker going on … Ritchie is firing on all cylinders here, delivering a PERFECT slow-burn suspense thriller which plays its cards close to its chest and cranks up its piano wire tension with artful skill as it builds to a devastating, knuckle-whitening explosive heist that acts as a cathartic release for everything that’s built up over the past hour and a half.  In typical Ritchie style the narrative is non-linear, the story unfolding in four distinct parts told from clearly differentiated points of view, allowing the clues to be revealed at a trickle that effortlessly draws the viewer in as they fall deeper down the rabbit hole, leading to a harrowing but strangely poignant denouement which is perfectly in tune with everything that’s come before. It’s an immense pleasure finally getting to see Statham working with Ritchie again, and I don’t think he’s ever been better than he is here – he's always been a brilliantly understated actor, but there’s SO MUCH going on under Hill’s supposedly impenetrable calm that every little peek beneath the armour is a REVELATION; McCallany, meanwhile, has landed his best role since his short but VERY sweet supporting turn in Fight Club, seemingly likeable and fallible as the kind of easy-going co-worker anyone in the service industry would be THRILLED to have, but giving Bullet far more going on under the surface, while there are uniformly excellent performances from a top-shelf ensemble supporting cast which includes Josh Hartnett, Jeffrey Donovan (Burn Notice, Sicario), Andy Garcia, Laz Alonso (The Boys), Eddie Marsan, Niamh Algar (Raised By Wolves) and Darrell D’Silva (Informer, Domina), and a particularly edgy and intense turn from Scott Eastwood.  This is one of THE BEST thrillers of the year, by far, a masterpiece of mood, pace and plot that ensnares the viewer from its gripping opening and hooks them right up to the close, a triumph of the genre and EASILY Guy Ritchie’s best film since Snatch.  Regardless of whether or not it’s a RETURN to form, we can only hope he continues to deliver fare THIS GOOD in the future …

5.  FEAR STREET (PARTS 1-3) – Netflix have gotten increasingly ambitious with their original filmmaking over the years, and some of this years’ offerings have reached new heights of epic intention.  Their most exciting release of the summer was this adaptation of popular children’s horror author R.L. Stine’s popular book series, a truly gargantuan undertaking as the filmmakers set out to create an entire TRILOGY of films which were then released over three consecutive weekends.  Interestingly, these films are most definitely NOT for kids – this is proper, no-holds-barred supernatural slasher horror, delivering highly calibrated shocks and precision jump scares, a pervading atmosphere of insidious dread and a series of inventively gruesome kills.  The story revolves around two neighbouring small towns which have had vastly different fortunes over more than three centuries of existence – while the residents of Sunnyvale are unusually successful, living idyllic lives in peace and prosperity, luck has always been against the people of Shadyside, who languish in impoverishment, crime and misfortune, while the town has become known as the Murder Capital of the USA due to frequent spree killings.  Some attribute this to the supposed curse of a local urban legend, Sarah Fier, who became known as the Fier Witch after her execution for witchcraft in 1668, but others dismiss this as simple superstition.  Part 1 is set in 1994, as the latest outbreak of serial mayhem begins in Shadyside, dragging a small group of local teens – Deena Johnson (She Never Died’s Kiana Madeira) and Samantha Fraser (Olivia Scott Welch), a young lesbian couple going through a difficult breakup, Deena’s little brother Josh (The Haunted Hathaways’ Benjamin Flores Jr.), a nerdy history geek who spends most of his time playing video games or frequenting violent crime-buff online chatrooms, and their delinquent friends Simon (Eight Grade’s Fred Hechinger) and Kate (Julia Rehwald) – into the age-old ghostly conspiracy as they find themselves besieged by indestructible undead serial killers from the town’s past, reasoning that the only way they can escape with their lives is to solve the mystery and bring the Fier Witch some much needed closure.  Part 2, meanwhile, flashes back to a previous outbreak in 1977, in which local sisters Ziggy (Stranger Things’ Sadie Sink) and Cindy Berman (Emily Rudd), together with future Sunnyvale sheriff Nick Goode (Ted Sutherland) were among the kids hunted by said killers during a summer camp “colour war”.  As for Part 3, that goes all the way back to 1668 to tell the story of what REALLY happened to Sarah Fier, before wrapping up events in 1994, culminating in a terrifying, adrenaline-fuelled showdown in the Shadyside Mall.  Throughout, the youthful cast are EXCEPTIONAL, Madeira, Welch, Flores Jr., Sink and Rudd particularly impressing, while there are equally strong turns from Ashley Zuckerman (The Code, Designated Survivor) and Community’s Gillian Jacobs as the grown-up versions of two key ’77 kids, and a fun cameo from Maya Hawke in Part 1.  This is most definitely retro horror in the Stranger Things mould, perfectly executed period detail bringing fun nostalgic flavour to all three of the timelines while the peerless direction from Leigh Janiak (Honeymoon) and wire-tight, sharp-witted screenplays from Janiak, Kyle Killen (Lone Star, The Beaver), Phil Graziadel, Zak Olkewicz and Kate Trefry strike a perfect balance between knowing dark humour and knife-edged terror, as well as weaving an intriguingly complex narrative web that pulls the viewer in but never loses them to overcomplication.  The design, meanwhile, is evocative, the cinematography (from Stanger Things’ Caleb Heymann) is daring and magnificently moody, and the killers and other supernatural elements of the film are handled with skill through largely physical effects.  This is definitely not a standard, by-the-numbers slasher property, paying strong homage to the sub-genre’s rules but frequently subverting them with expert skill, and it’s as much fun as it is frightening.  Give us some more like this please, Netflix!

4.  THE SPARKS BROTHERS – those who’ve been following my reviews for a while will known that while I do sometimes shout about documentary films, they tend to show up in my runners-up lists – it’s a great rarity for one to land in one of my top tens.  This lovingly crafted deep-dive homage to cult band Sparks, from self-confessed rabid fanboy Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, Scott Pilgrim), is something VERY SPECIAL INDEED, then … there’s a vague possibility some of you may have heard the name before, and many of you will know at least one or two of their biggest hits without knowing it was them (their greatest hit of all time, This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us, immediately springs to mind), but unless you’re REALLY serious about music it’s quite likely you have no idea who they are, namely two brothers from California, Russell and Ronald Mael, who formed a very sophisticated pop-rock band in the late 60s and then never really went away, having moments of fame but mostly working away in the background and influencing some of the greatest bands and musical artists that followed them, even if many never even knew where that influence originally came from. Wright’s film is an engrossing joy from start to finish (despite clocking in at two hours and twenty minutes), following their eclectic career from obscure inception as Halfnelson, through their first real big break with third album Kimono My Place, subsequent success and then fall from popularity in the mid-70s, through several subsequent revitalisations, all the way up to the present day with their long-awaited cinematic breakthrough, revolutionary musical feature Annette – throughout Wright keeps the tone light and the pace breezy, allowing a strong and endearing sense of irreverence to rule the day as fans, friends and the brothers themselves offer up fun anecdotes and wax lyrical about what is frequently a larger-than-life tragicomic soap opera, utilising fun, crappy animation and idiosyncratic stock footage inserts alongside talking-head interviews that were made with a decidedly tongue-in-cheek style – Mike Myers good-naturedly rants about how we can see his “damned mole” while 80s New Romantic icons Nick Rhodes and John Taylor, while shot together, are each individually labelled as “Duran”.  Ron and Russ themselves, meanwhile, are clearly having huge fun, gently ribbing each other and dropping some fun deadpan zingers throughout proceedings, easily playing to the band’s strong, idiosyncratic sense of hyper-intelligent humour, while the aforementioned celebrity talking-heads are just three amongst a whole wealth of famous faces that may surprise you – there’s even an appearance by Neil Gaiman, guys!  Altogether this is 2+ hours of bright and breezy fun chock full of great music and fascinating information, and even hardcore Sparks fans are likely to learn more than a little over the course of the film, while for those who have never heard of Sparks before it’s a FANTASTIC introduction to one of the greatest ever bands that you’ve never heard of.  With luck there might even be more than a few new fans before the year is out …

3.  GUNPOWDER MILKSHAKE – Netflix’ BEST offering of the summer was this surprise hit from Israeli writer-director Navot Papushado (Rabies, Big Bad Wolves), a heavily stylised black comedy action thriller that passes the Bechdel Test with FLYING COLOURS.  Playing like a female-centric John Wick, it follows ice-cold, on-top-of-her-game assassin Sam (Karen Gillan) as her latest assignment has some unfortunate side effects, leading her to take on a reparation job to retrieve some missing cash for the local branch of the Irish Mob.  The only catch is that a group of thugs have kidnapped the original thief’s little girl, 12 year-old Emily (My Spy’s Chloe Coleman), and Sam, in an uncharacteristic moment of sympathy, decides to intervene, only for the money to be accidentally destroyed in the process.  Now she’s got the Mob and her own employers coming after her, and she not only has to save her own skin but also Emily’s, leading her to seek help from the one person she thought she might never see again – her mother, Scarlet (Lena Headey), a master assassin in her own right who’s been hiding from the Mob herself for years.  The plot may be simple but at times also a little over-the-top, but the film is never anything less than a pure, unadulterated pleasure, populated with fascinating, living and breathing characters of real complexity and nuance, while the script (co-written by relative newcomer Ehud Lavski) is tightly-reined and bursting with zingers.  Most importantly, though, Papushado really delivers on the action front – these are some of the best set-pieces I’ve seen this year, Gillan, her co-stars and the various stunt-performers acquitting themselves admirably in a series of spectacular fights, gun battles and a particularly imaginative car chase that would be the envy of many larger, more expensive productions.  Gillan and Coleman have a sweet, awkward chemistry, the MCU star particularly impressing in a subtly nuanced performance that also plays beautifully against Headey’s own tightly controlled turn, while there is awesome support from Angela Bassett, Michelle Yeoh and Carla Gugino as Sam’s adoptive aunts Anna May, Florence and Madeleine, a trio of “librarians” who run a fine side-line in illicit weaponry and are capable of unleashing some spectacular violence of their own; the film’s antagonists, on the other hand, are exclusively masculine – the mighty Ralph Inneson is quietly ruthless as Irish boss Jim McAlester, while The Terror’s Adam Nagaitis is considerably more mercurial as his mad dog nephew Virgil, and Paul Giamatti is the stately calm at the centre of the storm as Sam’s employer Nathan, the closest thing she has to a father.  There’s so much to enjoy in this movie, not just the wonderful characters and amazing action but also the singularly engrossing and idiosyncratic style, deeply affecting themes of the bonds of found family and the healing power of forgiveness, and a rewarding through-line of strong women triumphing against the brutalities of toxic masculinity.  I love this film, and I invite you to try it out, cuz I’m sure you will too.

2.  THE SUICIDE SQUAD – the most fun I’ve had at the cinema so far this year is the long-awaited (thanks a bunch, COVID) redress of another frustrating imbalance from the decidedly hit and miss DCEU superhero franchise, in which Guardians of the Galaxy writer-director James Gunn has finally delivered a PROPER Suicide Squad movie after David Ayer’s painfully compromised first stab at the property back in 2016.  That movie was enjoyable enough and had some great moments, but ultimately it was a clunky mess, and while some of the characters were done (quite) well, others were painfully botched, even ruined entirely.  Thankfully Warner Bros. clearly learned their lesson, giving Gunn free reign to do whatever he wanted, and the end result is about as close to perfect as the DCEU has come to date.  Once again the peerless Viola Davis plays US government official Amanda Waller, head of ARGUS and the undisputable most evil bitch in all the DC Universe, who presides over the metahuman prisoners of the notorious supermax Belle Reve Prison, cherry-picking inmates for her pet project Taskforce X, the titular Suicide Squad sent out to handle the kind of jobs nobody else wants, in exchange for years off their sentences but controlled by explosive implants injected into the base of their skulls.  Their latest mission sees another motley crew of D-bags dispatched to the fictional South African island nation of Corto Maltese to infiltrate Jotunheim, a former Nazi facility in which a dangerous extra-terrestrial entity that’s being developed into a fearful bioweapon, with orders to destroy the project in order to keep it out of the hands of a hostile anti-American regime which has taken control of the island through a violent coup.  Where the first Squad felt like a clumsily-arranged selection of stereotypes with a few genuinely promising characters unsuccessfully moulded into a decidedly forced found family, this new batch are convincingly organic – they may be dysfunctional and they’re all almost universally definitely BAD GUYS, but they WORK, the relationship dynamics that form between them feeling genuinely earned.  Gunn has already proven himself a master of putting a bunch of A-holes together and forging them into band of “heroes”, and he’s certainly pulled the job off again here, dredging the bottom of the DC Rogues Gallery for its most ridiculous Z-listers and somehow managing to make them compelling.  Sure, returning Squad-member Harley Quinn (the incomparable Margot Robbie, magnificent as ever) has already become a fully-realised character thanks to Birds of Prey, so there wasn’t much heavy-lifting to be done here, but Gunn genuinely seems to GET the character, so our favourite pixie-esque Agent of Chaos is an unbridled and thoroughly unpredictable joy here, while fellow veteran Colonel Rick Flagg (a particularly muscular and thoroughly game Joel Kinnaman) has this time received a much needed makeover, Gunn promoting him from being the first film’s sketchily-drawn “Captain Exposition” and turning him into a fully-ledged, well-thought-out human being with all the requisite baggage, including a newfound sense of humour; the newcomers, meanwhile, are a thoroughly fascinating bunch – reluctant “leader” Bloodsport/Robert DuBois (a typically robust and playful Idris Elba), unapologetic douchebag Peacemaker/Christopher Smith (probably the best performance I’ve EVER seen John Cena deliver), and socially awkward and seriously hard-done-by nerd (and by far the most idiotic DC villain of all time) the Polka-Dot Man/Abner Krill (a genuinely heart-breaking hangdog performance from Ant-Man’s David Dastmalchian); meanwhile there’s a fine trio of villainous turns from the film’s resident Big Bads, with Juan Diego Botta (Good Behaviour) and Joaquin Cosio (Quantum of Solace, Narcos: Mexico) making strong impressions as newly-installed dictator Silvio Luna and his corrupt right hand-man General Suarez, although both are EASILY eclipsed by the typically brilliant Peter Capaldi as louche and quietly deranged supervillain The Thinker/Gaius Greives (although the film’s ULTIMATE threat turns out to be something a whole lot bigger and more exotic). The film is ROUNDLY STOLEN, however, by a truly adorable double act (or TRIPLE act, if you want to get technical) – Daniella Melchior makes her breakthrough here in fine style as sweet, principled and kind-hearted narcoleptic second-generation supervillain Ratcatcher II/Cleo Cazo, who has the weird ability to control rats (and who has a pet rat named Sebastian who frequently steals scenes all on his own), while a particular fan-favourite B-lister makes his big screen debut here in the form of King Shark/Nanaue, a barely sentient anthropomorphic Great White “shark god” with an insatiable appetite for flesh and a naturally quizzical nature who was brilliantly mo-capped by Steve Agee (The Sarah Silverman Project, who also plays Waller’s hyperactive assistant John Economos) but then artfully completed with an ingenious vocal turn from Sylvester Stallone. James Gunn has crafted an absolute MASTERPIECE here, EASILY the best film he’s made to date, a riotous cavalcade of exquisitely observed and perfectly delivered dark humour and expertly wrangled narrative chaos that has great fun playing with the narrative flow, injects countless spot-on in-jokes and irreverent but utterly essential throwaway sight-gags, and totally endears us to this glorious gang of utter morons right from the start (in which Gunn delivers what has to be one of the most skilful deep-fakes in cinematic history).  Sure, there’s also plenty of action, and it’s executed with the kind of consummate skill we’ve now come to expect from Gunn (the absolute highlight is a wonderfully bonkers sequence in which Harley expertly rescues herself from captivity), but like everything else it’s predominantly played for laughs, and there’s no getting away from the fact that this film is an absolute RIOT.  By far the funniest thing I’ve seen so far this year, and if I’m honest this is the best of the DCEU offerings to date, too (for me, only the exceptional Birds of Prey can compare) – if Warner Bros. have any sense they’ll give Gunn more to do VERY SOON …

1.  A QUIET PLACE, PART II – while UK cinemas finally reopened in early May, I was determined that my first trip back to the Big Screen for 2021 was gonna be something SPECIAL, and indeed I already knew what that was going to be. Thankfully I was not disappointed by my choice – 2018’s A Quiet Place was MY VERY FAVOURITE horror movie of the 2010s, an undeniable masterclass in suspense and sustained screen terror wrapped around a refreshingly original killer concept, and I was among the many fans hoping we’d see more in the future, especially after the film’s teasingly open ending.  Against the odds (or perhaps not), writer-director/co-star John Krasinski has pulled off the seemingly impossible task of not only following up that high-wire act, but genuinely EQUALLING it in levels of quality – picking up RIGHT where the first film left off (at least after an AMAZING scene-setting opening in which we’re treated to the events of Day 1 of the downfall of humanity), rejoining the remnants of the Abbott family as they’re forced by circumstances to up-sticks from their idyllic farmhouse home and strike out into the outside world once more, painfully aware at all times that they must maintain perfect silence to avoid the ravenous attentions of the lethal blind alien beasties that now sit at the top of the food chain.  Circumstances quickly become dire, however, and embattled mother Evelyn (Emily Blunt) is forced to ally herself with estranged family friend Emmett (Cillian Murphy), now a haunted, desperate vagrant eking out a perilous existence in an abandoned factory, in order to safeguard the future of her children Regan (Millicent Simmonds), Marcus (Noah Jupe) and their newborn baby brother.  Regan, however, discovers evidence of more survivors, and with her newfound weapon against the aliens she recklessly decides to set off on her own in the hopes of aiding them before it’s too late … it may only be his second major blockbuster as a director, but Krasinski has once again proven he’s a true heavyweight talent, effortlessly carving out fresh ground in this already magnificently well-realised dystopian universe while also playing magnificently to the established strengths of what came before, delivering another peerless thrill-ride of unbearable tension and knuckle-whitening terror.  The central principle of utilising sound at a very strict premium is once again strictly adhered to here, available sources of dialogue once again exploited with consummate skill while sound design and score (another moody triumph from Marco Beltrami) again become THE MOST IMPORTANT aspects of the whole production. The ruined world is once again realised beautifully throughout, most notably in the nightmarish environment of a wrecked commuter train, and Krasinski cranks up the tension before unleashing it in merciless explosions in a selection of harrowing encounters which guaranteed to leave viewers in a puddle of sweat.  The director mostly stays behind the camera this time round, but he does (obviously) put in an appearance in the opening flashback as the late Lee Abbott, making a potent impression which leaves a haunting absence that’s keenly felt throughout the remainder of the film, while Blunt continues to display mother lion ferocity as she fights to keep her children safe and Jupe plays crippling fear magnificently but is now starting to show a hidden spine of steel as Marcus finally starts to find his courage; the film once again belongs, however, to Simmonds, the young deaf actress once and for all proving she’s a genuine star in the making as she invests Regan with fierce wilfulness and stubborn determination that remains unshakeable even in the face of unspeakable horrors, and the relationship she develops with Emmett, reluctant as it may be, provides a strong new emotional focus for the story, Murphy bringing an attractive wounded humanity to his role as a man who’s lost anything and is being forced to learn to care for something again.  This is another triumph of the genre AND the artform in general, a masterpiece of atmosphere, performance and storytelling which builds magnificently on the skilful foundations laid by the first film, as well as setting things up perfectly for a third instalment which is all but certain to follow.  I definitely can’t wait.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXLIV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I hate the absolute lack of organization my career has and I’m so full of violence bc of it omg -Danny

Words: 4,862

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Wicked Game’ -by Gemma Haynes

Chapter Six: Growing Hopes.

Mel walked into the kitchen twenty minutes after her talk with Harry, her heart still beating harshly against her chest.

Her theory could be wrong, but at the same time, it was the best way to keep the lifeline and make sure it'd be useful.

They had three rules:

Keep a clear head, no romance could happen between them.

They would use the connection in case of major injuries, and only if they were given consent.

Harry had to learn to ground himself, and they would stay away from the other's problems unless requested differently.

"Hand me that baby!" She demanded Erick when she saw him.

"He's happy with me!" He complained, turning his back on her.

"I'm his sister!" Mel tickled his sides and he immediately gave in, Erick hated to be tickled. "Come here, Leggie, was this bad man annoying you?"

"It just won't budge, this has always worked before, I just can't understand it!" Mrs Weasley said from across the room, struggling to fix Hermione's eye.

"It'll be Fred and George's idea of a funny joke, making sure it can't come off," Ginny shrugged.

"But it's got to come off! I can't go around looking like this forever!"

"It won't stay forever," Mel said. "They're not that cruel..."

"You two stop moving around, you'll upset him!" Emily warned them, looking at the way Mel and Erick continued to fight for the boy's attention.

"We'll find an antidote, don't worry," Mrs Weasley patted Hermione's head.

"Bill told me 'ow Fred and George are very amusing!" said Fleur.

"Yes, I can hardly breathe for laughing," Hermione said sharply.

"Sorry about that," Mel sat down in front of the blonde. "She's a bit on edge — our O.W.L's will be arriving today..."

"Mrs Weasley, you're quite, quite sure no owls have arrived this morning?"

"Yes, dear, I'd have noticed. But it's barely nine, there's still plenty of time..."

"I know I messed up Ancient Runes," Hermione paced around the room, "I definitely made at least one serious mistranslation. And the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical was no good at all. I thought Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking back —"

"Hermione, will you shut up, you're not the only one who's nervous!" Ron exclaimed. "And when you've got your eleven 'Outstanding' O.W.L.s..."

"Don't, don't, don't!" said Hermione. "I know I've failed everything!"

"Were you nervous about your O.W.L.s?" Harry asked Erick, he sat next to Mel and started playing with her brother.

"I was more worried about my family finding out I was talking to a muggle," He shrugged. "I had done all I could — Studied and wrote until my hands and eyes hurt, there was nothing I could do apart from waiting..."

"Erick was obsessed with getting his Prefect badge, the fifth-year examinations were a piece of cake for him, right?" Mel smiled.

"Yeah well, I really wanted to be a Prefect," He sighed. "I was an idiot..."

"You still are," Mel barely managed to cover Reg's face from the cloth Erick threw her at her remark. "Careful, you twat!"

"What happens if we fail, though?" Harry grabbed the baby, not wanting him to get hurt.

"We discuss our options with our Head of House, I asked Professor McGonagall at the end of last term," Hermione replied.

"At Beauxbatons," Fleur started, "we 'ad a different way of doing things. I think it was better. We sat our examinations after six years of study, not five, and then —"

Hermione screamed and ran to the window. Mel stood up and followed, Reggie started to cry.

"They're definitely owls," said Ron, looking out the window and gulping.

"And there are four of them," said Harry, walking up to them with the baby still in his arms.

"One for each of us," Hermione shivered. "Oh no... oh no... oh no..."

The girl gripped Ron's arm, Mel tried to quiet her brother distractedly, but she was too nervous to do it in a gentle way. Emily got closer and grabbed the baby, Erick stood next to the group.

"It's going to be okay, guys," He said simply.

"Oh shut up, what do you know?" Ron frowned.

"Oh no!" squealed Hermione, squeezing Ron's arm harder.

Mrs Weasley opened the kitchen window. Four owls landed on the table and lifted their right legs so they could grab their letters. Mel grabbed her own and ripped the envelope so fast she almost ruined the letter.

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results

Pass Grades

Mel Dumbledore Sultens has achieved:

Astronomy (O)

Care of Magical Creatures (O)

Charms (O)

Defense Against the Dark Arts (O)

Divination (P)

Herbology (E)

History of Magic (O)

Potions (O)

Transfiguration (O)

"Eight O.W.L's!" Erick had been reading over her shoulder. "That's wonderful, Mely!"

"Only failed Divination and History of Magic, and who cares about them?" Ron said brightly, showing her his letter. "Here — swap —"

Harry showed her his letter, there was only one 'O' in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but the rest was okay, all E's... and he'd gotten a 'P' on Divination like her.

"Knew you'd be top at Defense Against the Dark Arts," Ron punched Harry and Mel on the shoulders. "We've done all right, haven't we?"

"Well done!" said Mrs Weasley, ruffling Ron's hair. "Seven O.W.L.s, that's more than Fred and George got together!"

"I'm so proud of you!" Emily said, kissing Harry's cheek and hugging Mel tightly.

Erick pulled her in for an unexpected hug and lifted her from the ground, Mel laughed at his outburst.

"Hermione?" said Ginny carefully, noticing she was the only one who was quiet. "How did you do?"

"I — not bad," Hermione replied.

"Oh, come off it," Ron snatched her letter and read it quickly. "Yep — nine 'Outstandings' and one 'Exceeds Expectations' at Defense Against the Dark Arts. You're actually disappointed, aren't you?"

Hermione shook her head quietly, Mel and Harry laughed. Ron was looking at their friend with so much affection she couldn't believe she was the only one noticing.

"Well, we're N.E.W.T. students now!" grinned Ron, then he walked up to Erick and shook his hand. "Hope you're ready to welcome me in in those study sessions of yours... Godric knows I'll need them. Mum, are there any more sausages?"

Mel noticed she was still quite settled in Erick's arms and quickly moved out of his reach, patting his arm awkwardly.

"Your last year," She said. "How are you feeling?"

Erick looked at her.

"I'm not ready to say goodbye."

When the letters with their booklists arrived the morning after Harry's birthday, they had a pleasant surprise in them.

"I'm Headboy..." Erick said under his breath.

"I'm Captain!" Harry exclaimed.

The room lit up instantly, Mel got closer to examine Erick's badge and hugged him tightly, then she went to Harry.

"That gives you equal status with prefects!" Hermione was saying. "You can use our special bathroom now and everything!"

"Wow, I remember when Charlie wore one of these," said Ron. "Harry, this is so cool, you're my Captain — if you let me back on the team, I suppose, ha ha..."

"He'll let us in if he knows what's good for the team," Mel teased. "You and I are the reason why we won last year. And where was he? Playing hide in seek with Hagrid's little brother!"

"Careful, you don't want to upset your Captain," Harry joked.

"Oh, shut up," She snorted.

"Well, I don't suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon Alley much longer now you've got these," said Mrs Weasley. "We'll go on Saturday as long as your father doesn't have to go into work again. I'm not going there without him."

"Mum, d'you honestly think You-Know-Who's going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?"

"Fortescue and Ollivander went on holiday, did they? If you think security's a laughing matter you can stay behind and I'll get your things myself —"

"No, I wanna come, I want to see Fred and George's shop!" Ron exclaimed.

"Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, before I decide you're too immature to come with us! And that goes for returning to Hogwarts as well!"

Ron turned to look at his friends.

"Blimey... you can't even make a joke 'round here anymore..."

"Don't feel bad, you have the emotional range of a teaspoon, you can't help it!" Mel taunted, walking past him.

Mel left the burrow with her Firebolt on one shoulder, ready to go and play with her friends when she spotted Erick sitting under a tree, reading one of the books he'd borrowed from her. For some reason, she felt like talking to him even though there was nothing new to say.

"Don't you get tired of reading?" She nudged his leg. "Don't get me wrong, I love books, but summer should be spent under the sun, gaining a bit of colour..."

"I have enough colour," Erick looked up at her. "I get all sweaty under the sun — hugely unattractive, and I have a reputation to maintain."

"As the heartthrob of our group?" Mel smirked. "I thought that was my title!"

"Your title is Lady Dumbledore," He grinned.

"Leaving you alone with Fred and George in Grimmauld Place was a mistake," She sat down next to him, examining his book. "Dracula? Finally reading something else than romance and fairytales I see..."

"Dracula's kind of romantic. Sort of fairy-like as well... if you look past the blood and violence..."

"Well, sounds like something realistic for sure..."

"Oh, please, didn't you say to me years ago that life could be a fairytale and all that?"

Mel groaned, she shook her head.

"That same day you told me how hard it is to choose between emotions and duty. We can't always be happy — What was I thinking when I thought I'd get the princess's ending, anyway? I'm a witch!"

"That's not the bubbly miss I used to know," Erick raised a brow. "I understand, though. My dreams were never as pink as yours, but they were ambitious... I guess they still are, but in a prudent way..."

"It's a start," Mel leaned against the tree. "I feel like I'm rebuilding myself... It's complicated."

"That makes two of us," He sighed. "It's good to have someone that understands, right?"

Mel suddenly felt self-conscious about how close they'd become over the last few weeks. It triggered the fly or fight reaction in her. Whatever she'd done with Fred last year helped her move on from her heartache, but it didn't make her trust her romantic feelings, whatever those pesky things were.

"Everything okay?"

She felt a tingling sensation, like thunder announcing a storm. Had his eyes always looked that honey-like with the sunlight?

"Yep," Mel squeaked, standing up and grabbing her firebolt. "I want to play..."

"Sure..." Erick frowned slightly. "Yeah, go ahead..."

"Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"My hair would get messy and I'd be all out of breath! Such a nightmare..."

"That's the whiny Prince I know," Mel smiled tensely, walking away.

Diagon Alley was nothing like the bright, lousy place she used to remember. Every window had been covered with Ministry posters, Mel anxiously ran her fingers over the scars on her hand, scowling at every single banner.

Emily, Hagrid (who was there as their guard), Ron, Hermione, Harry and her went to get new robes. Ginny, Erick, Mr and Mrs Weasley decided to go and buy the books everyone needed.

No one noticed Harry Potter was passing next to them, Mel was starting to understand what it'd been like to live during the first wizarding war, and now she was living the second wave. She was slowly sinking in her own anguish when someone touched her shoulder gently.

"Don't get upset," Harry said, making eye contact. "Remember our game?" She nodded. "You want to play?"

She nodded again. He took a moment to think of a word, then he continued:

"Quidditch. Q—U— I— D..."

"D..." She whispered. "I— T— C— H."

"What's your favourite spell?"

"I..." She tilted her head. "I don't have one."

"Wise choice," He held her hand and guided her towards the next shop. "C'mon..."

Mel stared at him, Harry was acting so differently compared to last year it was almost scarier than his angry version. Still, she didn't let go of his hand until they entered the next shop. Emily went in with them, Hagrid stayed outside to watch the entrance.

"...not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone."

"Now, dear, your mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it's nothing to do with being a child —"

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!"

Draco walked out of the dressing room and stood in front of a mirror. After a second of quiet staring, he realized they were there.

"If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother," Malfoy sneered. "A Mudblood just walked in..."

"I don't think there's any need for language like that!" Madam Malkin walked out of the backroom as well. "And I don't want wands drawn in my shop either!"

The boys had their wands out, pointing at Malfoy. Hermione whispered something about ignoring the boy.

"Yeah, like you'd dare do magic out of school," Malfoy scoffed. "Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers."

"That's quite enough!" said Madam Malkin. "Madam — please —"

Narcissa Malfoy stared at Emily for a long time, then at the rest of the group.

"Put those away," she said shortly. "If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do."

"Really?" Harry stepped forward, he was as tall as the woman, and this seemed to encourage him. "Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?"

"Harry," Mel said in a tone of warning, Madame Malkin gasped.

"Really, you shouldn't accuse — dangerous thing to say — wands away, please!"

"Harry," Emily insisted. "Be wise..."

"I see that being Dumbledore's favourite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter," Narcissa smiled. "But Dumbledore won't always be there to protect you."

"Wow... look at that..." Harry looked around. "He's not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!"

"That's enough," Mel said sternly, lowering the boy's arm.

"Don't you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!" Malfoy tried to get close but stumbled on his long robes.

"It's all right, Draco," said Narcissa, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius."

Harry tried to raised his wand again.

"I think we've had enough useless fights!" The girl stopped him. "My uncle may not be here but I'm pretty able to stop you on my own, Harry."

"Mel's right..." Emily put a hand on his shoulder to ease him.

"I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more," Madame Malkin said anxiously, reaching for Malfoy's robes. "Dear, let me just —"

"Ouch! Watch where you're putting your pins, woman! Mother — I don't think I want these anymore —"

"You're right, Draco," said Narcissa, "now I know the kind of scum that shops here... We'll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting's. Oh, and Sultens," She eyed Emily one last time before leaving. "Congrats on birthing another bastard..."

"Let them go," Mel said roughly to the boys, noticing they were ready to attack again.

Emily looked away while the Malfoys exited the store.

"Mum?" The girl approached the woman carefully.

"It's fine," She said quietly. "I just need a moment... I'm fine."

"Got ev'rything?" Hagrid asked them once they left the store.

"Just about... Did you see the Malfoys?"

"Yeah— Bu' they wouldn' dare make trouble in the middle o' Diagon Alley, Harry. Don' worry abou' them."

Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ginny and Erick arrived, all holding large packages.

"Everyone all right? Got your robes? Right then, we can pop in at the Apothecary and Eeylops on the way to Fred and George's — stick close, now..."

Mel remained silent the whole time they spent in the Apothecary, she picked the few ingredients for her next term and paid without focusing on what she was doing.

"How are you?" Erick caught up with her. "Harry told me what happened... You know the Malfoys are rubbish..."

Harry had sent Erick to talk to her? Instead of going himself? He was definitely keeping his distance. Which was excellent, but she didn't know why it hurt her anyway.

"I've heard it once or twice... never bothered me because I knew my father loved me, I never stopped to think about my mum..."

"What?"

"My parents never married," Mel explained. "They did everything a married couple is supposed to do... everything except marrying. They were waiting for the war to end."

"Titles are nothing unless you give them meaning, your mother knows that. Names mean nothing unless you want them to... Mel Dumbledore, that's one that'll mean great things one day."

Mel knew he was right, her parents had loved each other, and she had all the right in the world to be treated as a Dumbledore. Leon Regulus would be a Black if he wanted to, and her mother didn't need to do things like everyone else to be valid.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was the only cheerful building left. They knew how to brighten up even the gloomiest of places. Mel felt a strong tug at the base of her stomach; she'd missed her friends.

'WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO?

U-NO-POO—

"They really know their priorities, don't they?" Erick raised a brow.

"They'll be murdered in their beds!" Mrs Weasley lamented.

"No they won't!" Ron laughed. "This is brilliant!"

Mel couldn't help feeling a bit anxious, Emily stared at the sign and smiled absently.

"Sirius would've loved this..."

With every step she took inside the loud and crowded place, her chest warmed up with memories. She'd been present for the creation of at least half of all those, it was a nice change to reminisce over something that made her happy instead of miserable and mournful.

"'One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream," Hermione read. "Easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens' — You know, that really is extraordinary magic!"

"For that, Hermione, you can have one for free."

Mel turned around so fast she accidentally hit Harry's face with her hair. She jumped into Fred's arms and squeezed him as hard as she could, a pleasant wave of accomplishment washed over her when she noticed she was almost as tall as him now. Almost, the top of her head was barely reaching his nose, though.

"Good to see I've been missed," He beamed. "How are you handling our break-up, Lady? Not good I see... Listen, I'm trying to date new people, having you in my arms every time we see each other it's kind of a bad look."

"Shut up," Mel quickly cleaned her tear-stained face. "I'm sorry, I don't go around jumping on people and crying — I'm just happy to see you."

Fred ruffled her hair and offered her a handkerchief he pulled out from his pocket.

"How are you, Harry?" He reached for the boy's hand and shook it. "And what's happened to your eye, Hermione?"

"Your punching telescope."

"Oh blimey, I forgot about those! Here —" He pulled a tub of something out of another pocket and gave it to her. "Just dab it on, that bruise'll be gone within the hour. We had to find a decent bruise remover. We're testing most of our products on ourselves."

"It is safe, isn't it?" Hermione asked reluctantly.

"'Course it is! Come on, guys, I'll give you a tour. Wait —" He looked around. "Where's the Prince?"

Mel looked around as well. "He was right behind me when I walked in!"

"We'll find him," Fred put an arm around her shoulders and guided her towards a shelf. "You've grown! Try to stay like this, won't you? If my ex-girlfriend ends up being taller and prettier than me..."

"Looks like I'm halfway there!" She teased.

Harry followed them, Hermione decided to stay behind.

"Muggle magic tricks!" Fred happily pointed to the boxes on their right. "For freaks like Dad, you know, who love Muggle stuff. It's not a big earner, but we do fairly steady business, they're great novelties — Erick will love them... Oh, here's George — Ah, hello there, Prince!"

"Caught him snooping around the love potions," George smirked, his own arm around Erick, who was now taller than him. "Can you believe it? As if this twat needed one! — Blimey, lady, you're taller too! That's not fair!"

George shook hands with Harry, and Erick allowed Fred to give him a hug.

"Giving them the tour? Come through the back, guys, that's where we're making the real money — pocket anything, you— and you'll pay in more than Galleons!" George warned a boy who was trying to get edible dark marks from a tub — "they'll make anyone sick!"

George guided them to the back, Erick approached her with a worried expression.

"You've been crying."

"What?" She touched her face, but it was dry. "How do you..? Doesn't matter, I got emotional, that's all."

"Emotional?"

"I'd missed the twins, alright?" Mel replied defensively.

"You didn't even date for real..." Erick grumbled, she pretended not to hear.

"We've just developed this more serious line," Fred explained to them. "Funny how it happened..."

"You wouldn't believe how many people, even people who work at the Ministry, can't do a decent Shield Charm," George mentioned. "'Course, they didn't have you two teaching them."

"That's right... Well, we thought Shield Hats were a bit of a laugh, you know, challenge your mate to jinx you while wearing it and watch his face when the jinx just bounces off. But the Ministry bought five hundred for all its support staff! And we're still getting massive orders!"

"So we've expanded into a range of Shield Cloaks, Shield Gloves..."

"...I mean, they wouldn't help much against the Unforgivable Curses, but for minor to moderate hexes or jinxes..."

"An abrupt attack would no longer be useful," Mel said in astonishment. "Boys, this is wonderful!"

"We thought we'd get into the whole area of Defense Against the Dark Arts, because it's such a money-spinner," George nodded. "This is cool. Look, Instant Darkness Powder, we're importing it from Peru. Handy if you want to make a quick escape."

"And our Decoy Detonators are just walking off the shelves, look," said Fred. "You just drop one surreptitiously and it'll run off and make a nice loud noise out of sight, giving you a diversion if you need one.

"Impressive," Erick admitted, examining the boxes.

There was something absurd about the way Fred and George were so casually talking about their newest products. The context in which these things had been created was dark, but to them, it was just another funny experiment that had succeeded, and as crazy as it was, Mel felt hopeful. If something as bright, colourful and happy could still stand in the midst of war, then surely not everything was changing for the worst.

"Handy," said Harry.

"Here," George grabbed a fistful of the products and put a bit on the hands of the three friends.

"There's a customer out here looking for a joke cauldron, Mr Weasley and Mr Weasley," A girl said through the curtain.

Hearing the 'Mr Weasley' reminded her that time wasn't forgiving, and soon enough she would also be of age. However, this seemed terribly unimportant when so many marvellous things were happening around her.

"Right you are, Verity, I'm coming," said George. "Guys, you help yourself to anything you want, all right? No charge."

"I can't do that!" said Harry.

"And neither can we," Mel frowned, Erick nodded.

"You don't pay here," said Fred, brushing it aside.

"But —"

"You gave us our start-up loan, Harry, we haven't forgotten," said George. "Erick, your gran' got us this place and he asked for nothing in return but for us to watch over you, and that means we don't accept the money he left so you could watch after yourself. Mel," He smirked. "You're just too pretty to pay."

"Don't forget she's always believed in us! Helped while we were making half of these!" Fred added. "But yeah, being good-looking is the main reason."

Mel snorted, she was unaware of the way Erick rolled his eyes at the innocent and playful compliments.

"Take whatever you like," George shrugged, "and just remember to tell people where you got it, if they ask."

Fred led them back into the main room, Hermione and Ginny were still checking the Patented Daydream Charms.

"Haven't you girls found our special WonderWitch products yet? Follow me, ladies..."

"Oh, wow," Mel grimaced. "This looks like something Umbridge would love..."

Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which a cluster of excited girls was giggling enthusiastically. Hermione and Ginny both hung back, looking wary.

"There you go," said Fred. "Best range of love potions you'll find anywhere."

"Do they work?" Ginny asked sceptically.

"Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question —"

"— and the attractiveness of the girl," George was suddenly once more at their side. "But we're not selling them to our sister. Not when she's already got about five boys on the go from what we've —"

"Whatever you've heard from Ron is a big fat lie," said Ginny curtly.

"Wait," Mel smirked. "Were these the potions you were examining a while ago, Prince?"

"Oh yeah," George said, a devilish grin on his face. "But he doesn't need them. Not when he's finally gaining weight and colour! I tell you, now that he's a hero he'll be having hoards of people lining up for a date!"

Mel laughed, picking up a bottle. "I'm intrigued..."

"Oh no," Fred snatched the bottle from her hand. "You give this to a boy and you'll drive him mad!"

"He'd end up in St. Mungo's for sure," George nodded solemnly.

"Sod off, you two," Mel protested. "I wasn't planning on buying it!"

"Good," said Harry and Erick at the same time.

"What's this?" Ginny asked promptly, distracting the twins.

"Guaranteed ten-second pimple vanisher," said Fred. "Excellent on everything from boils to blackheads, but don't change the subject. Are you or are you not currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?"

"Yes, I am. And last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?"

"Pygmy Puffs," said George. "Miniature puffskeins, we can't breed them fast enough. So what about Michael Corner?"

"I dumped him, he was a bad loser — They're really cute!"

"They're fairly cuddly, yes. But you're moving through boyfriends a bit fast, aren't you?" Fred insisted.

Ginny turned to look at him, both hands on her hips and looking alarmingly similar to her mother.

"It's none of your business. And I'll thank you," She yelled to Ron, who had just appeared, "not to tell tales about me to these two!"

"That's three Galleons, nine Sickles, and a Knut," said Fred. "Cough up."

"I'm your brother!"

"And that's our stuff you're nicking. Three Galleons, nine Sickles. I'll knock off the Knut."

"But I haven't got three Galleons, nine Sickles!"

"You'd better put it back then, and mind you put it on the right shelves."

Ron dropped the boxes, yelled at Fred to put them right up his arse, and showed him his middle finger. Unfortunately, Mrs Weasley was there to witness it.

"If I see you do that again I'll jinx your fingers together!"

"Mum, can I have a Pygmy Puff?" asked Ginny.

"A what?"

"Look, they're so sweet..."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Mel and Erick suddenly had a wide view of the window. Malfoy was hurrying down the street across from theirs.

"Wonder where his mummy is?" Harry asked.

"Given her the slip by the looks of it," said Ron.

"Why, though?" said Hermione.

"Throwing a tantrum, maybe?" Erick offered.

"Get under here, quick," said Harry, pulling his Invisibility Cloak out.

"Oh — I don't know, Harry," Hermione looked towards the rest of the group.

"He's Malfoy, who cares what he's doing?" Mel frowned.

"Come on!" Ron insisted.

Erick looked over his shoulder, making sure no one was watching.

"I'll distract them," He said. "Just try to be back soon."

"Thank you," Mel whispered, disappearing under the cloak.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

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[jetsetlife138]

Imaginary - Chapter 3

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: You come across a device that throws you into the animated world of Hazbin Hotel. Once an average human living in a three-dimensional world, you’re now transformed into a two-dimensional human that has been cast into Hell. The inhabitants of Hell are curious and most harbor ill-will towards you. Charlie and the staff of the Happy Hotel take you in and offer you protection while they try and figure out how to return you to your world. That is… until you come across a certain Radio Demon with different intentions. Chapter Warnings: Language, unwanted flirtation, manipulation, asexual elements 

Your head felt heavy as you started to regain consciousness. Waking from a deep sleep, you felt fully rested, as if you had been asleep for days. It was a nice reprieve considering the stress that had consumed your body and mind merely hours before. 

Groaning softly, you lifted your arms and stretched your limbs, releasing a sigh of relief before your eyes began to flutter open. 

Oh. 

It wasn’t a dream. You were still very much in your own animated Hell. Great. 

“Welcome back, my dear!”

Your heart almost leapt out of your chest at the unexpected voice next to you. There, in your bed, was Alastor, casually laying beside you on top of the blankets with his hands folded behind his head, seemingly relaxed and completely at ease. 

Within a split second, you jumped out of the bed, your entire body trembling with panic. “A-Alastor?”

“Good to see you, too!” he winked, the corners of his grin rising at your response.

“Y-you… your face…” You couldn’t get the words out. His horrifying and distorted face was the last thing that you remembered seeing before you blacked out. It would forever be etched in your memory as one of the most terrifying things that you had ever seen and will probably ever see. It was now very apparent why Vaggie had warned you to stay away from him. 

“I regret if my appearance was jarring. I hope it wasn’t too much for you.” The juxtaposition between his apologetic words and his menacing smile only fueled your nervousness and did nothing to put you at ease.

Noticing your uncertainty, he chuckled and rolled off of the bed, dusting off his jacket before giving it a slight tug to straighten out the kinks in the fabric. He then summoned his staff out of thin air, setting it down with a loud thunk. “Darling, I’ve already told you. If I had any ill-will towards you, I would have already acted on it. No, no, no, you have nothing to fear. I’m simply curious about you! You are one of a kind!”

Ignoring his compliments, you could feel the frustration welling up inside of you, threatening to boil over. Between the agitation and the adrenaline that was now coursing through your veins, you snapped. “What the hell did you do to me?!”

“Why, I took it upon myself to see what’s inside your mind! Quite fascinating, indeed. I’ve never seen anything like it! Extraordinary!” 

“What do you mean?” you pressed, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “You… what, read my mind?” 

“Not quite,” he countered, clearly enjoying your continued baffled reaction. Sadistic bastard.

Taking a few strides towards you, he attempted to close the gap between the two of you before he spoke again. It was apparent that this guy had little-to-no personal space. “I merely caught a glimpse of your world through your eyes. It’s no wonder you were overwhelmed with hysteria! Your mortal world is quite appealing.”

“Ugh,” you scoffed, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. “That’s so… violating! What makes you think that you have the right to sift through my head!”

His smile widened as he stepped even closer, now only a few feet away. “If you recall, sweetheart, you offered me your hand. I simply obtained information I thought was pertinent to your cause. No harm, no foul.” “‘No foul’ my ass! I offered you my hand as a gesture of good will! Not as an invitation for you to magically sedate me and rummage through my mind! It’s pointless anyway! Aren’t you a Sinner like the rest of everyone here? You’re from Earth! You know exactly where I come from!” His chin dipped as his gaze pierced right through you, taking a moment for himself as if he was thinking of how to avoid the question while simultaneously answering as vaguely as possible. “Indeed,” he began, leaning on his staff in a much-too-casual position. It irked you that he could be so calm while you were on the brink of insanity. “I am from Earth, but not from your Earth. My life in the world above was similar to this one in terms of appearance. It was also, as you have put it, ‘two-dimensional’. Your world, though similar, is also vastly different. It was quite a treat to see through your eyes.” 

Well, shit. That just confused you even more. Still seething and trying to calm yourself, you asked, “Okay, well… did you at least find anything helpful?”

He hummed sinisterly, creeping you out even more. “I believe that you and I can benefit from one another. I’d like to offer you my services and assist in your escape from this world to return back to your realm. What do you think?”

“I think you’re shady as fuck,” you quipped, unable to stop yourself. Much to your relief, he simply chuckled, amused by your comment. Sighing, releasing some of the tension you had been holding onto, you added, “If you really want to help me get back to my world, I guess… I’d be grateful for the help.” 

Twirling his staff in his hands, he urged, “So, it’s a deal, then?”

As he extended his hand, a gust of wind swirled around the room, nearly knocking you off of your feet. A green glow seemed to emulate from the demon, indicating his ominous, dark intentions. 

Slowly beginning to gather more courage, you shook your head and waved your hands to signal your refusal. He retracted his hand, still smiling at you. Once the green haze and the wind died down, you asked, “How exactly do you think that I can help you in return? I’m not really in the position to be helping anyone right now.” 

“No need to bore ourselves with the details! Why don’t we cross that bridge when we come to it?” There was something about the way he was blatantly avoiding the subject that made you feel uneasy-even more so than you already did. 

“No, Alastor,” you refused, surprised at your own assertiveness. “If I’m being honest, the thought of being indebted to you gives me the heebie jeebies. I want to know exactly what I’m getting myself into if I decide to accept your help. What do you want from me?” 

“What a clever girl,” he purred, sending yet another a shiver down your spine. “Very well then, my dear. In exchange for my assistance in returning you to your world, I would be much obliged if I could tag along for the ride.” 

Quirking your brow, you couldn’t understand what he was getting at. He cackled at your obvious confusion and clarified further. “Darling girl, I want to accompany you to your mortal realm! It seems to be quite a remarkable place, just oozing with potential! I would be remiss if I didn’t get a taste for myself, don’t you think?” 

Oh shit. He wanted to hitch a ride back to your world. To stay. And wreak havoc. And god knows what else. Could a cartoon even do that? Memories of watching Roger Rabbit and Space Jam crept into your mind, making you wince at the thought. 

“Get out,” you demanded.

Caught off guard, the demon tilted his head, all the while maintaining that damned smile. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” you seethed, still shocked by your boldness. “I’ve seen your real face. I’m aware of your reputation. You really think that I would willingly subject the people in my world to whatever evil plot you have in store just to get me home? No way. Not happening.”

Your response was almost childish. You couldn’t help but cringe at your own words like ‘ evil plot’, but you supposed that it was fitting considering your wacky environment.

The demon stepped closer to you, now less than a foot away from you as he towered over you, his height even more intimidating when he was this close to you, but you held your ground, refusing to appear weak. 

He sneered, closing his mouth for a moment to smirk before once again showing off his pointed teeth in another smile before speaking again. “I’m sure that we can come to an agreement. I can make your stay far more comfortable for you… if you wish.” 

The change was instantaneous His whole demeanor shifted into something else entirely within a fraction of a second. What was once a dark, looming presence was now replaced with what you could only describe as enticement. His voice, previously crackling with static that made your skin crawl was now dripping with alluring sin, making you want to agree with whatever it was that he said. How the fuck did he do that?

Luckily, your sense of reasoning was on high alert, preventing you from falling victim to his game. “What exactly are you getting at?” 

He hummed thoughtfully, eyes raking over your body before extending a finger to twirl a loose strand of hair near the side of your face. “It looks to me like you could loosen up a bit, sweetheart. Let me help you with that.” 

“Wh-what are you doing?” you huffed, side-stepping him and turning around to warn him with a glare. “Are you seriously trying seduction techniques to lure me into cooperating with you? You cannot be serious.”

A part of you wondered if that was even possible. Was that something that cartoons were capable of? You made a mental note to check your own body later to see if your anatomy remained the same, or if you had been recreated without those parts of you, forcing you into celibacy. 

Oh god, your childhood innocence was shattering. Granted, this universe didn’t appear to be a family-friendly animation. You were, after all, in Hell, so it was fitting that everyone here would be fueled by sex, but the thought of it was still nearly unfathomable. 

On top of that, could you even be attracted to an animated being? A cartoon? Was that a thing? Especially one as terrifying as him? He was a charmer, that much was evident, but there were way too many unknown variables here to be making assumptions. 

“Oh dear,” he began, with a wry smile. “How very presumptuous. No, no, no, no, I’m afraid you’ve misinterpreted my intentions. I have no interest in that sort of thing. I only wish to tend to you, sweet girl.” Manipulative asshole. Of course he wouldn’t be upfront about what it was he wanted and would dance around his response.

Cringing, your eyes darted to his groin region. He obviously noticed your lack of subtlety and stood proudly, never altering his proper posture. Swallowing thickly, you murmured, “Please tell me that you’re not expecting anything… like that in return.” 

“Ha!” he cackled, picking up on your innuendos. “Not at all. I’ve never been one to indulge in receiving physical stimulation, but it’s a gracious offer,” he jested, winking at you. 

“I wasn’t offering!” you barked back at him, fuming while your cheeks flushed out of embarrassment. 

“My mistake,” he snickered. “Allow me to elaborate. I am not enthralled by the idea of receiving sensual touch.” He edged closer to you then, his face so close to yours that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. “However… that doesn’t mean that I do not delight in providing it to others.” 

Red alert! Holy shit. This couldn’t actually be happening. A cartoon demon was insinuating that he would basically help get your rocks off in exchange for his help. Did you fall into a pornographic cartoon?! What the actual fuck!

Rage was bubbling up inside of you, threatening to boil over as you bellowed, “Are you fucking kidding me?! What do I look like to you?! A hooker?!”

“You called?”

Turning your attention to the doorway, you saw a tall, rose-colored spider-like demon, grinning salaciously at you and Alastor. “I was on my way out, but I couldn’t help but overhear. Al, baby, was that an open invitation? ‘Cuz, uh, I’ll happily take you up on that,” he finished with a wink. 

Brushing past you, Alastor casually addressed the spider. “Angel Dust, my good fellow! Good of you to drop by! I was just exchanging pleasantries with our new guest.”

Raising an eyebrow, Angel replied, “Hm. Kinky.” 

“If you say so,” Alastor surmised coolly. “My dear, I think this conversation is better left for another time. I do hope that you’ll consider my offer. It wouldn’t hurt to have me as a friend.” 

Crossing your arms defiantly, you refused to acknowledge his comment as he paused, gauging your reaction for a moment before gliding out of the room, his cheery disposition never faltering. 

“He’s a peach, ain’t he?” Angel jeered, flashing his teeth at you, showing off a prominent golden tooth. “His positive attitude is exhausting. I dunno how he keeps that up being sober.” Mortified of what he must think of you, you stammered, “I-it’s not what it sounded like! I’m not… I wasn’t going to-” “Sheesh, get over yourself. Want some free advice, babe? If an Overlord offers to rock your world, you fuckin’ accept. No questions asked.” 

Desperate for a change of subject, you inquired, “So, um, you’re a guest at the Happy Hotel?” 

“Toots, I’m the guest here,” he countered, running a hand through his fluffy hairdo. “And, just ‘cause I’m feelin’ generous, I’ll give you another free lesson. Don’t underestimate the most powerful demon in this place. Got it?” 

With that, the spider flipped his hair casually before strolling out of the room, leaving you in a daze.

Tags: @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @edgy-drama-queen @chasingfireflies1999 @galaxy-meteor @cecidit-31 

[huntertales]

Part Three: I’ll Get You, My Pretty. And Your Little Hunters, Too. (Slumber Party S09E04)

Episode Summary: The reader and the boys call in I.T. expert Charlie Bradbury to help track fallen angels with technology found in the Men of Letters bunker. However, they soon discover something more in the form of the one and only Dorothy from Wizard of Oz. Everyone joins forces to take down the Wicked Witch and her evil plans. Warning: Mentions of past miscarriage, slight twinge of angst if you squint. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,340.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

NOTE: This is hella unedited, oops. All mistakes are my own. I’ll fix them tomorrow. I just wanted to get a new part out for you guys!

Charlie shouldn’t have been excited as she was to be given the opportunity to poke around Dean’s belongings while he tried and searched for the same key the wicked witch was looking for. As if today couldn’t get any better it seemed it was. She noticed right away how the older Winchester’s room contrasted his brother’s. Dean made an effort to decorate the space how he liked and made it his own. You added small touches to make it clear you shared the room like any other normal couple; a pile of your folded clothes sitting on the couch, a book you were halfway through reading bookmarked on the nightstand. Yet you gave him the opportunity to call the space his own from the lack of opportunity he had growing up. You and him had no problem making it your home. It was easier when you had memories to help you lay down your roots. 

The redhead found herself smiling when she spotted a few personal photographs leaning against the desk. One was of a blonde woman holding a small child that looked to be no older than four or five, she guessed it was Dean’s mother. A rare moment from his childhood before it turned bitter for the family. The other picture was of the couple from several years ago from the looks of it. She felt her smile grow wider from the way you both looked at each other in the photo, the love you had for one another was clear in your faces. You looked at each other like a couple of kids head over heels. Even after all the tragedy and heartbreak you had to endure over the years, the love you had for one another was still going strong. Maybe it even brought the both closer together. She only wished to find a woman to share the kind of affection and adventure like you both had.

Charlie found herself drawn to a stack of magazines when she caught sight of a beautiful woman wearing little clothing luring her attention when she helped on the search to make things go faster. She quickly realized she had stumbled upon Dean’s personal stash of skin magazines that looked like they dated back into the early fifties. How he managed to get his hands on something like this was a mystery to her. She went through them to see they ranged from over sixty years ago to a little more recently. She chuckled to herself at how the man prioritized. 

“You keep your porn meticulously organized, but not—” Charlie picked up the copy on top of the pile, raising her brow in curiosity to hear the man’s answer. 

“Don’t judge me.” Dean defended himself from the woman’s playful teasing. 

Charlie shook her head and bit back a laugh. She opened up the magazine in the middle, wanting to take a peek at the spread they had back in the day. Charlie found her attention quickly drawn away from the naked woman when she noticed something slipped out and fell down to the ground by her feet. She stepped back and looked down to see it was another photo. She reached down and picked it up, slightly fearful she might find a picture of you in a compromising position for the older man’s enjoyment, only it was worse than she could ever imagine. 

Dean was the one who called her to let her know about the technical problem you and the boys were facing that left all of you scratching your heads. It’d been a few months since the last time you got in contact with her and the things you had been up to since last speaking. She asked how all of you were doing and excitedly wanted an update about the baby, you were almost due in a few months. The way the other end fell eerily silent made Charlie’s heart drop into her stomach. She was familiar with the pause between words before giving bad news. 

“Y/N, she…she lost the baby, Charlie.” This wasn’t how he wanted to find out. She could hear the pain in his voice, how it cracked from retelling of the news to one of his only friends. His words had come true. What the young woman found odd was the request he had given to her prior to her arrival. “Please don’t mention it to her. We don’t like to talk about it.” 

It had been over a month. People eventually move on from these things. You didn’t mention it when you saw her. You didn’t even seem sad. You acted like you had forgotten all about what happened. A blissful ignorance, or you had the best mask at hiding your grief. Not that Charlie was expecting for you to pull her to the side and explained what happened. It wasn’t her right to know the details. She couldn’t comprehend the trauma you were going through. 

Losing a parent was an inevitable part of life every child would go through, no matter the age they lose them. But to lose a child before they were able to take in their first breath? It ruins people with a sort of pain Charlie hoped she never would have to understand. She remembered how excited you were for the baby. How it slipped off the tongue when you first met her, the way you looked at Dean when the both of you talked about your future plans of getting married. 

Charlie regretted the gifts she had given you, the tiny outfit and the book. They would be nothing more than a constant reminder of a life that was no longer. You might have said your goodbyes and found inner peace with the situation, but Charlie still felt the need to give you her grievances. She wanted to wrap you into a tight hug and be reminded you weren’t alone in these troubling times. But Dean had made it quite clear he wanted the situation under wraps.

“How are you holding up?” Dean momentarily stopped searching from the odd question that came out of nowhere. Charlie held the ultrasound picture for a few seconds longer before tucking it back into the magazine from where she stumbled upon it by accident. “I know you said you didn’t want me to talk about it, but I gotta know. Are you guys okay?”

“We’re hanging in there.” He admitted to her. “It’s been a little while now.”

Charlie should have understood from the man’s short answer and behavior that he wanted to be done with this conversation. It wasn’t the right time to be discussing the past when you had a wicked witch running around the bunker as well, looking for a magical key that opened the door to Oz. She was more excited than anyone to have another hunt filled with magic, it was the very thing she had been searching for since she started hunting on her own. But she couldn’t help herself when her mind drifted away from the hunt and to the news that had been lingering in the back of her mind since the phone call. 

“Still, to lose a baby the way she did…” Charlie had a habit of pressing further into a conversation, despite given the social and audio cues someone wanted to drop the topic. Your behavior rubbed her the wrong way for some reason. You were so excited, over the moon in fact. “Are you sure she’s okay—”

“I told you Charlie, she’s fine. You know how Y/N gets with the kinds of things. We said our goodbyes, came to terms with the things that happened. We moved on from it. And so should you.” Dean hadn’t realized the tone he used on the woman until he saw her expression change dramatically. He didn’t mean to lash out at her. Weeks of anger came boiling to the surface without a second thought. And she was the victim. A caring friend who just wanted to give her condolences, all she ended up doing was making him feel worse. “I..I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Charlie muttered. She shook her head and went back to searching, pretending like everything was fine once more. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Dean let out a quiet sigh of frustration from his short temper before going back to his search, digging through a few more artifacts until he found a small box that looked familiar. He opened it up to find the exact key he’d been looking for over the past few minutes. His lips stretch into a victorious smile. “Ah!” He quietly shouted to himself. “Yahtzee.” 

Charlie looked up to see her friend discover the key. She shared a matching smile, enjoying the moment, all before it was ruined a few seconds later by an unexpected guest. Neither one of them noticed a puff of emerald green smoke sneak its way into the bedroom from the air vent and transform into the very person they were hunting. Charlie’s eyes moved away for a split second when she noticed something out from the corner of her eye. A gasp of surprise escaped from her throat at the sight of the wicked witch standing behind Dean, giving her no chance to properly warn him from what was about to happen.

Dean quickly turned around and spotted the witch, but he had no time to properly defend himself. The witch snatched the key from his grip, using her unexpected drop-in to her advantage of the situation. She easily flung him across the room with enough force to make Dean bounce off the bed and stumble to the corner of the room, knocking his head roughly against the concrete wall. Charlie had no time at all to properly defend herself. She saw the gun lying on the bed and dived forward to get it, but the witch was faster, hitting the young woman with some kind of spell that would be her demise. All Dean saw when he got his head back on straight was Charlie falling to the ground, a piece of furniture doing nothing to break her fall. 

The witch let out a scream of pain when she felt another poppy bullet aim into her chest. Dean stood behind the loaded gun after firing off his only road into the witch in some kind of way to stop her. It wounded her like how Charlie said, but it was not enough to stop her. He watched as the witch disappeared the way she came, and with exactly they were trying to keep from her. Dean couldn’t focus on the trouble he landed them all in. His eyes wandered to the body lying on the ground, not moving. Not…breathing. 

Dean crouched down to the ground so he was at level with Charlie. He softly spoke the woman’s name as he pushed her so her body was now lying on her backside, hoping he might be able to see her breathe, or her eyes moved underneath her lids. Anything to show him that she was still alive. He waited a few seconds. He watched her chest to see if it would move. But she remained on the ground, lifeless. Dean shook her body, and when that didn’t work, he cradled her head into his hands. No amount of times he kept repeating the woman’s name roused her back into consciousness. Dean felt his breathing come out into shorter ones from everything that was happening. 

The older Winchester picked up Charlie from the ground and carried her over to his bed, trying to get her more comfortable. He kept repeating her name over and over again, despite her only response being deafening silence. Dean gently moved a few strands of red hair out of her face, feeling no hot breath tickle his skin like how he hoped. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t lose another person so soon. Not now, not like this. Charlie deserved so much better...He needed to find a way to fix this. 

“Dean?”

Your voice echoed from out the bunker’s hall, making a blossoming sense of hope fill into Dean's chest. He knew there was someone else in your body that could help bring Charlie back to life. The name that wasn't your own slipped off his tongue before he realized the consequences that might be waiting for him down the road. All he cared about in the moment was bringing his best friend back to where she belonged.

“Zeke!” Dean called out the angel’s name when you stepped into the bedroom, checking out the room to make sure it was safe. You immediately dropped your gun down to your side as your eyes flashed blue, the angel in your body coming to the driver's side. Your body stood in the doorway and stared at the dead body lying on Dean’s bed. Dean appeared to be desperate, fearful for the young woman's life that was no longer. "You have to help her."

Ezekial approached the edge of the bed, inspecting the woman for a moment to inspect the damage inflicted upon her. The angel knew from the sight of her that she was no longer. "She's gone."

"No. You can bring her back like you did with Cas." Dean told the angel, his tone of voice making it clear it was more of a request than anything. The older Winchester was desperate, asking for a favor from the angel after someone close to him got hurt. It was starting to be a habit Ezekial wasn't happy with.

"I cannot keep doing this." Ezekiel warned the hunter.

"Why the hell not?!" Dean questioned the angel, his tone bleeding with frustration at the hesitation of the angel's willingness to help like how he had before.

"I am barely back to half strength, Dean. Every time I use my power, it weakens me, which means I will have to stay longer in Y/N, longer than you want—longer than we both want." Ezekial informed the older Winchester about his unwillingness to do what was asked of him. Dean was left at a crossroads of the choice he was to make. "The witch running around your bunker is very powerful. I can help with the witch or save your friend.”

Dean fell silent for a moment about what the right thing to do was in this situation. He took into consideration the sort of complications he’d been facing since you were possessed by Ezekial, and how your reaction would be upon hearing the death of Charlie. A woman you had doted over since you first met her. Dean swallowed and looked down at the young woman lying on the bed. He made his decision. It might not have been the right one, but he didn’t care. He was doing it for his family. 

“Save her.” Dean instructed. 

Ezekial nodded his head, “As you wish.” 

The angel made his way over to Charlie and kneeled down on the ground so it would be easier for what he was about to do. He pressed two fingers to her forehead and shut his eyes, slowly healing the young woman from her internal wounds that lead to her demise. The wounds were far worse than the ones Cas had been endured with. Dean watched with fearful eyes as your expression changed into an almost pained out as a grunt slipped out from your mouth at the amount of power Ezekiel had to use in order to properly heal Charlie. A few more seconds before it was complete. Charlie shot up in bed with a sudden gasp of air as you stumbled back, landing roughly into the dresser that was behind you. 

“Merry Christmas!” Charlie groggily spoke her first set of words after coming back to life. She looked around the room in a daze, not sure what was going on, or how he managed to get on the bed from the floor. Dean rushed to the young woman’s side and softly spoke her name, wanting to make sure everything was okay. “Hey, I know you.” 

“I told you to stay in the dungeon.” Dean told the young woman of his previous warning. He felt himself suddenly be filled with a rush of relief at the weak chuckle that escaped her throat. 

“Bet you say that to all the girls.” She mumbled a joke, making him smile at how she was able to joke even after coming back to life without even knowing it. 

“Dean?” Your voice broke the older Winchester’s concentration from Charlie, making his eyes wander over to you to see that you were coming back around as well. Both of you not having a single clue of the events that took place just a minute ago. “What the hell just happened?”

“The witch—the witch was about to put a whammy on me, and, uh, Charle jumped in front.” Dean explained the situation to you, the lie slipping off of his tongue without a second thought. He gave the young woman a proudful smile at her heroic move. "She got zapped, and then the witch got the drop on you."

“Okay. This has been happening to me way too much.” You muttered to yourself at your clumsy behavior. You rubbed the back of your head from the rush of pain you felt from getting back up to your feet. You have been off your game for weeks now since the trials. It wasn’t like you to be so lousy. Despite your rusty hunting skills all of you were somehow still in one piece. “Then why aren’t we dead?”

“That’s a good question.” Dean agreed with you, shrugging his shoulders. He quickly thought of an excuse that might help fill in the gaps and keep you from growing suspicious. “I clipped her with a poppy bullet. She got the key. I think she’s gone.” 

“No, she’s wounded.” Dorothy came out of nowhere to correct the man with some good news. She rushed down the hall and stopped in the doorway with Sam catching up to the woman a few seconds later. "We should still have some time. She could still be in the air vents."

“No. No, no. She’s right. We—we have to—we—” Charlie foolishly thought she was capable of swinging her legs off the bed and standing up without a problem. Dean managed to stop the woman from crashing to the floor when her body involentarly tipped forward. 

“Just go.” Dorothy told you and the boys. “We’ll catch up.” 

“My gun’s over there.” Charlie pointed over to the desk you were standing next to you. You saw it was exactly where she was, lying on top of boxes that were stacked on one another. “There’s one bullet in it.” 

You warned the two women to be careful and made your way out into the hall with the boys, handing the gun over to Dean so he could have another round to defend himself if all of you came into contact with the witch again. The three of you cautiously made your way through the bunker, peeking down every hall and looking over your shoulder to make sure the witch didn’t get the drop on you again. The next time you came in contact with her you wouldn’t be as lucky. 

The mystery to how you were even still breathing after your first run in with her, along with the events that landed you with a dull ache in the back of your head was starting to make you feel frustrated. You remembered making your way into Dean’s room and then waking up on the floor, everything in between was blank. It was happening to you frequently. And it was more than just a few minutes at a time on hunts. Bits and pieces from months were gone. Sometimes you tried to think about the trials, but you couldn’t remember. You wondered if your mind repressed them in some sort of attempt to protect yourself from dealing with the pain you endured. But now that it was happening more frequently...you were hearing things, it was starting to make you worried.

“Who’s Zeke?” You knew it wasn’t the proper time to drop a question on Dean when you turned a corner and followed behind the older man as his brother led. He gave you a confused look at the name you thought he might have never heard before. You swore you heard it. “When I came into your room, before I got zapped,” You pointed your gun at an empty room when you passed by another one, only to move on to the next. “I thought you said the name Zeke. Who’s that?”

"Um..." Dean mentally cursed at himself for the dilemma he found himself in. Sam turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder at his brother, wondering what kind of trouble he'd gotten himself into this time. And what excuse he was going to use in order to keep from the situation escalating. "I think you're still a little punchy, sweetheart. You and Sammy head for the front. I'll meet you two in the library." 

You were disappointed from the answer you were given by Dean. You expected his response to be drastically different from what you were given...

You thought to yourself. Maybe he was right. You had been out of it for the past few weeks. You had been so stranger to the sort of tricks your mind was able to play on you. You let out a quiet sigh and followed behind the young man as you made your way to the front entry of the bunker in some kind of hope you might be able to find the witch before it was too late. 

You and Sam made your way into the war room and cautiously looked around to make sure the coast was clear once more. The only people that were around so far were just the two of you. You lowered your gun slightly and looked over at the younger Winchester, remembering the conversation you had overheard when you were catching up with them after splitting up from Charlie and Dean. The both of them were discussing homes, and the lack of importance it was to them. A strange subject for the both of them to bond over. You still didn’t understand why Sam was still hesitant about letting himself feel comfortable enough to call the bunker his home. You knew he had a rough childhood of sleeping in the backseat of the Impala and strange motel rooms. But this was good as it was going to get for the both of you. Hell, it was better than either one of you could have hoped to call home for your family. 

“Why haven’t you moved in?” You understood your question was poorly timed when you spoke it out loud, bringing up a conversation the younger Winchester really didn't feel like discussing right now 

“Is now really the time for this, Y/N?” Sam’s tone made sure to reflect his annoyance at your conversation topic you butted heads over just a few hours ago.

“Well, I’m just asking.” You muttered in your defense. 

“Look, I never had what you had with your family, okay? Or Dean for that matter.” Sam decided the truth was the most important answer to lead with. You stopped in your tracks and gave him a confused look at his response. “I don’t have any memories of home. And whenever I’ve tried to make a home of my own, it really hasn’t ended well.” 

“Yeah, but a lifetime of abandoned buildings and crappy motel rooms. Not to mention living in a house all by your lonesome wasn’t exactly paradise on my part. I mean,” You let out a sigh and looked around at the bunker with all of its glory that you felt it offered. “This is about as close to home we’re gonna get as a family, and it’s ours. Why can’t you make this place yours?”

Sam found himself overwhelmed with the need to give you a reason why. He wanted to tell you the truth about how he tried to make the bunker a home, and for a little while it did. He psyched himself up with the reality of dealing with another human to the bunch. A small baby that would fill the quiet bunker halls with their cries and laughter. Make you and Dean panic when they got to the age where they started crawling, leading you to find out the dangerous things they could get their hands on in the bunker. You even picked out a room for that baby, expecting to have the chance around this time to take out all the old furniture to make it a nursery. Sam was honestly excited for the things that were to come that would make it truly feel like home. But all he felt now when he passed by that room was pain. 

“I tried, okay?” Sam managed to speak out three words that might help you understand. Only it caused you to look at him with even more confusion. The look you gave him was clear; you wanted to know why. What was the reason that he couldn’t call the bunker home? He hated himself for lying to you. He hated how easy it was. “I tried for months. But I can’t force myself into believing something that doesn’t feel right.” 

“I’m gonna go check on your brother, see what’s taking him so long.” You said. You took a few steps backwards, trying to hide your disappointment in hearing what you thought was the truth. It was the tip of the iceberg for the reason Sam was giving you. But you didn’t know that. “Holler if you see the witch. I’ll be back.” 

Sam let out a frustrated sigh from the conversation veered into a direction he hoped wouldn’t have gone in. He should’ve known better than to think you might leave a conversational topic alone without being given the full reason. It was enough to drop it once and for all.

You retraced the steps you thought Dean might have taken, wondering what was taking him so long to catch up with the both of you. You kept thinking about Sam’s reasoning for not thinking the bunker of home as you had hoped. He pressured Dean to stay here permanently. He was over the moon to discover what this place had to offer. You guessed he couldn’t miss something he never really had. It broke your heart. You could only wish that one day Sam might be able to change his mind and find a reason to call this place his own.

When you ended back up where you split up with Dean without finding a trace of the man, you gave up on the search, deciding instead to make it back to the library where you agreed upon to meet up. You found it odd as you made your way back that you hadn’t found a trace of the witch anywhere around here. Most likely she was around here, trying to open up the door to Oz. But not without taking care of you. 

You found yourself stopping in your tracks when you stumbled upon a sight of your worst fear in the war room. The witch had found the boys. She had an arm wrapped around Sam’s neck and a finger pressed against Dean’s forehead, doing something to the both of them that didn’t kill them. But put them under her spell. You mumbled a curse word underneath your breath before you booked it out of there, needing to find Dorothy and Charlie before it was too late. 

You looked everywhere for the two women; Dean's bedroom, Sam's, yours. Anywhere that was close by. You managed to send off a text to Charlie in some kind of hope that she would respond as you raced around the bunker, trying to dodge the witch and the two men under her spell. You didn't know what she had done to them, and you really didn't want to find out. Luckily the red head answered your text, leading you to somewhere you didn't expect to go, a little secret you had kept to yourself since discovering it—the garage.

"Y/N!" Charlie shouted your name with excitement when she spotted you running up the stairs, and out of breath for that matter. "You didn't tell me this place had a garage!"

“Sorry. Slipped my mind. We sort of have more pressing matters." You didn’t mean the sarcasm that slipped off your tongue. You made your way to the women when Dorothy was busy rummaging around her motorcycle, looking for something. You furrowed your brows when you saw her pull out what appeared to be a severed mechanical head. “Is that..”

“Yeah. He didn’t make it out.” Dorothy said, hinting of the poor Tin Man’s demise. You watched as she frantically searched through her bag until she pulled out exactly what she was looking for. A pair of ruby red slippers. “Yes!”

“I don’t believe it.” Charlie laughed at the sight of the famous shoes. “Did you really walk down a brick road in these?”

“No. I never actually wore them. Seemed kind of tacy wearing a dead woman’s shoes.” Dorothy said. “Plus, I’m no good in heels, you know?”

“I don’t suppose we could pop those on and wish the witch away?” You wondered. 

“Sorry. Another thing the books got wrong.” Dorothy said. You rolled your eyes in annoyance from how these sorts of things could never be easy as you wanted. “But, like the poppies, these have magic from Oz—sharp magic.”

“Death by shoe? Huh.” You examined the shoes both of the women were holding, the very thing that was going to kill the wicked witch. “Well, that’s not the first time I’ve seen that.” 

“There you are.”

You quickly turned around at the sound of a deep, growling voice coming from behind you. You gritted your teeth from how quick they were able to find you, despite the goose chase you had to deal with before finding them here. Charlie didn’t seem to figure out what the problem was. 

“Was that your Batman voice?” Charlie asked the boys, smiling to herself at the impression she thought was funny. You quickly whipped out your gun and pointed it at them when you saw their eyes glow an emerald green. “That’s definitely not your Batman voice.” 

“It’s her.” You told them, pointing the weapon at the boys when they started to approach you. “I saw her possess them.”

“I’ve missed you my pretty.” The witch used Sam’s body to pass on the message to Dorothy, smiling at the trouble all of you landed yourself into. “Killing you a second time will be just as sweet as the first.” 

“Guys, I know you’re in there.” You tried to somehow speak to them, hoping your voice might be able to reach them before they could do something stupid at the command of the wicked witch. "Dean, don't make me hurt you. I don't want to do this." 

“Oh, but I do.” You suddenly felt a grip around your throat with a tight enough of a grip to cut off any oxygen you tried to breathe in from the unexpected attack from Dean’s hand. He used what strength he had against you to his advantage to get you out of way, even momentarily. The man tossed you across the room without much of a care where you landed. His focus landed on the red head that stood before him, looking rather terrified at what he just did. 

“Dean, come on.” Charlie hoped there might be a way to speak to the man, despite her doubts when you miserably failed. “If she opens the door, she’s going to destroy Oz.”

Charlie miserably failed when Dean grabbed a hold of her and roughly shoved the woman into a window, shattering the glass into pieces. She was pinned into place with no real chance out of this. Charlie knew what kind of skills and strength Dean he could use to hurt her if she didn’t find a way to get out of his grip before it was too late. 

“I have no intention of escaping to Oz.” The witch said. Charlie watched as Dean’s lips stretched into a smirk as Sam told them about her true plans she had all along. “I’m going to bring my armies here.” 

[Next Part]

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Message me if you would like to be added!

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Promises Not Kept Part 16

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 16: Leah and Lizzie bond over one of Tommy’s old flames. 

“M-morning, Mrs. Shelby, morning Charlie.” Curly beamed at the two walking into the yard. He crouched down to shake Charlie’s little hand.

           Leah smiled. “Haven’t married Tommy yet, Curly.” She reminded him softly.

           “Oh, that’s right.” The sweet man’s face went red and he shyly wrung his hands together.

           “But when we do, you’ll get a front-row seat, I promise.”

           He laughed and waved them over toward the docks. “Tommy’s over here.”

           Leah held Charlie’s hand as they walked over. A covered boat was starting to slowly pull in but the air was too smoky to see who was on it.

           “Daddy!” Charlie ran over to latch onto Tommy’s leg.

           He jolted a little. Loud noises and unexpected touches had started to make him flinch. It had been that way after he’d come home from France. Before he’d found his purpose. Anything that resembled the sound of a gunshot made him duck, his arms covering his head. Over time, he’d managed to fight the knee-jerk reaction. But it had returned, even worse than before.

           “What’re you doing here, aye?” Tommy scooped up his son and gave him a cuddle. He smiled at Leah. “Out for a walk?”

           “Someone was getting a little antsy inside.” Leah sighed and kissed his cheek. "He wanted to see the horses like in Warwickshire. So I decided to come here and see if you had any horses in."

           “Who’s with you?” He frowned, hoping she hadn't gone on her walk alone.

           “Isaiah and Finn.” She glanced over her shoulder to point out the two young men standing like soldiers. Boys who hadn’t been old enough to fight in the War but were suddenly enlisted into one. No more fooling around while they were on watch like they used to. They stood still, like stone, Isaiah holding a rifle.

          “Good.” Tommy nodded. Finn seemed ready to take his position in the family as a legitimate fighter. Perhaps he was trying to do his best to fill the empty spot John had left. Trying to do what he could for the family.

           “Who’s that coming in?” Leah wondered. The smoke and fog began to clear and Uncle Charlie hopped down to tie up the boat.

           Tommy walked over to offer a hand to the other passenger of the boat, balancing his son on his hip. The woman was dressed very nicely, a stark contrast to the yard around them. “Leah, this is May Carleton.” He introduced. “Helps train my horses for the track. May, this is my fiancee, Leah.”

           May’s eyes fell on Leah. Her eyebrows lifted in curiosity. “I didn’t know you were engaged.”

           Leah gave a forced smile and reached out a hand to greet her. The woman was beautiful and she had a sneaking suspicion Tommy had a history with her. Jealousy aside, she was a bit warier with strangers those days, just like Tommy had warned her to be. May wasn't a stranger to him but she was certainly a stranger to Leah. “I suppose it’s a long story to tell.”

           May shook her hand politely. “I’m sure.”

           “If you two are going to a meeting, I’ll continue on our walk.” Leah took Charlie from Tommy’s arms. “Just wanted to say hello.”

           “Oh, I just need Tommy’s signature,” May explained with what seemed like a hint of disappointment. “Don’t leave because of me.”

           “A signature?” Leah studied the other woman’s face and appearance. Obviously, she was hoping for more than a signature.

           “C’mon,” Tommy wrapped an arm around Leah’s waist. “Rather you walk with me. Finn, Isaiah!” He called out to them. “Take a lap, make sure everything’s quiet.”

~~~~~~~~

           “Morning Lady Carleton.” Lizzie chirped from behind her desk.

           “I’m not a lady.” May continued past the desk, following Tommy into his office.

           Leah let Charlie run around the front of the offices. He gravitated towards Lizzie who always had sweets on a silver dish. She followed the little boy, letting Tommy and May speak alone.

           The relationship between Leah and Lizzie was an odd one, to say the least. They’d had such a rocky start it was almost laughable to think they would ever get along. But the more time Leah spent in Small Heath, and around the company’s properties, the more she spent time with Lizzie. Leah never disliked her. In fact, she could appreciate that they came from very similar backgrounds. Both working girls who had found steady ground with the Shelbys. She respected Lizzie’s irreplaceable feelings for Tommy. They clearly had a history together. But as long as Lizzie respected her relationship with Tommy, they didn’t have any issues.

           It was difficult for Lizzie to be angry with Leah. Mostly, she was pissed off at Tommy for toying with her for so many years only to cast her away. Leah took care of Charlie and that was enough for Lizzie to hold some sort of regards for her. Plus, it was nice to have another woman around. After Esme left, the balanced between the Shelby boys and the women who put up with them was becoming uneven.

           Leah sat down across from Lizzie. “What’s the story with him and her?” She asked quietly. "Tommy and May."

           Lizzie rolled her eyes and fetched Charlie a few pieces of candy. “Before he married Grace, they were…” Her hand waved in the air. “Whatever you want to call affairs with Tommy. But he chose Grace over her once he found out she was pregnant.”

           “Oh…” Leah glanced towards the closed door of his office. “She seems…”

           “Like a snob?” The women shared a secretive smile.

           Charlie wandered back over to Leah. With sweets in hand, he clambered onto her lap.

           “She’s come for his signature.” Leah rolled her eyes. "All this way for a bloody signature." It was a bit of fun to share a distaste for the same woman instead of being cold towards each other.

           Lizzie found a stack of papers on her desk for the Grace Shelby Foundation. Ones that Tommy had already signed a few hours earlier. She got a wicked smile on her face and held them up. “Should I interrupt them?”

           Leah giggled. “No, no, he’ll only get upset with you.”

           The dark-haired woman scoffed and stood up. “As if I care whether he's upset or not.” Mischief glinted in her eyes while she strode right for the door, papers in hand.

           Leah stifled a laugh and did her best to listen in on the conversation but it was too faint to make out any words. Charlie contently unwrapping the lemon sherbets and popping one after another into his mouth. She smiled and smoothed back his blond hair, placing an affectionate kiss on his temple. “Slow down.” She stopped his hands from unwrapping the last three candies. “You’ll turn into a little lemon if you eat them all at once!" She cooed, making him giggle at the absurdity of turning into a lemon.

           Only a few moments later, Lizzie returned with a slip of paper in hand and a sour look on her face. She sat back down and carelessly tossed the paper on the desk.

           “What’d he say?” Leah wondered.

           “I’ve no idea how you’ll put up with that man.” Lizzie reached for her cigarettes, offering the pack to Leah. "He's so infuriating. Such a..." She made a noise of frustration. "We should all receive sainthoods for dealing with him on a daily basis."

           She took one of the cigarettes and passed a lighter back to her. “Well, I don't think any of us are as saintly as Linda."

           Lizzie snorted and gestured towards the slip. “She’s offered a very charitable donation to the Foundation. Flaunting ‘bout her money. Stuck up, whore.” She muttered under her breath.

           Leah picked up the check, finding it blank aside from the woman’s signature. “Well, you ought to decide how much she’s going to donate then if she's being so generous. Let her put her money where her mouth is.” She reached for a pen on the desk and carefully wrote out a number before turning it back over to Tommy’s secretary. “A thousand?”

           Lizzie took a drag of the cigarette. She grabbed the pen and adjusted the amount. “Add another zero and I think that'll teach her.”

           The women shared a laugh but quieted down when Tommy came out. He looked cross as he stormed over to the desk. “What the fuck was that about, Lizzie, aye?” He demanded.

           “Watch your language.” Leah scolded, stepping out in front of the conversation before he could scold his assistant. “Not in front of your son.”

           Tommy huffed but bit his tongue at her request. “A word?” He jerked his head towards his office. “Lizzie, watch Charlie.”          

           Leah was irked at the tone he took with Lizzie but stood up anyway. She set Charlie down and let him go around the desk. She followed him into the office, curious as to what he had to say.

           May was still sitting there, tucking away a folder of papers, presumably the ones she had brought for Tommy to sign. “Miss Ward, Tommy was just telling me a little bit about you.”

           Leah lingered by the door, uneasy by the situation. Her eyes flicked to her fiancee who was pouring himself a drink. “Was he now?”

           Tommy turned. “After events that transpired this morning, I think I need to make better arrangements for you and Charlie.” He began.

           “I’m not sure what you mean.” She replied stiffly and braced herself for an argument. Already she didn't like where the conversation was headed. “I’ve done my part by staying close to you.” There was no telling what events he was talking about. They hadn’t spoken all day so anything could’ve happened from the time he left bed to the time they met up at the yard.

           “Mrs. Carleton was kind enough to offer her home as a sanctuary. Out in Surrey.”

           Every nerve in her body became electrified. “You said that we were safest with you. Now you want to send us to Surrey to be sitting ducks for them?” She demanded.

           “The Italians won’t know where you’ve gone. They’ve lost two more men today, they won’t have enough to keep tabs on everyone.” Tommy continued steadily. May was quiet from her spot in the room. It was any wonder what he’d said to get her to help. She didn’t seem like the type of woman to get involved in such things.

           “I’m not leaving,” Leah affirmed and crossed her arms over her chest. “The move alone would be too dangerous. I’m not risking Charlie’s life.”

           “It’ll be easy to smuggle you both out without any notice. Long as we create a big enough diversion.”

           Leah scoffed and threw up her hands. “So you’re going to use yourself as bait while you ship us off? Unacceptable, Tommy, I’ll not do anything of the sort.”

           “It’ll be safer…”

           “You said Arrow House was safe but I was kidnapped right off the lawn!” Leah snapped.

           The accusation hit Tommy. His fingers tightened around the glass in his hand and his blue eyes didn’t move from her. “May, will you give us a moment?” He requested in a low voice. The other woman looked grateful for an invitation to leave. She gathered her things and without a word, left the office in a hurry.

           The room was quiet for a moment. Tommy set down his glass of whiskey and discarded his cigarette. He looked like he was suffering from an agonizing headache. After taking a second to gather his composure, he walked over to Leah. “This morning, my cousin was almost shot. They were five steps ahead of us. If there is an opportunity to keep you away from all this, then I’m going to take it.”

           “You’re a fool if you think I’m leaving. I’ve done it before, haven’t I?” She challenged. “I’ve sat back, stayed far away while you fought for your life. You damn well wouldn’t even let me near the hospital when you were hurt! You want to fight every war by yourself even though there are people who love and care for you. You cannot take the weight of the world on your shoulders, Tommy.” She urged touched his cheek. “There is no one else I feel safer with than you. And I will be home every night on Watery Lane. I will be there when you come home.”

           He took a shaky breath and rested his hands on her hips. “Ada was right. Once they find out you’re my weakness then they’re going to go after you. They’re testing the waters, Leah. They want to ruin me before they put a bullet in my head.”

           She simply drew him closer to her. “Luckily that’s never going to happen. You’re Tommy Shelby.” Her voice softened. “Nothing is going to happen to you. You’re smarter than them.”

           His face clouded over, his lips frowned grimly. “I wasn’t this morning.”

           “You said you got two more of them.” She reminded him. Her thumb grazing over his cheekbone. “You will win this war. And I will be right here for you whenever you need me. I trust you to keep me and Charlie safe.”

           It was easy for Tommy to want to hide her away. Place her out in the countryside where presumably no one would ever discover her. Allow her some comfort in May’s massive manor. Grant her and Charlie some clean air and an escape from the chaotic neighborhood of Birmingham. But he wouldn’t force her and it was comforting to have her by his side. It made him feel guilty.

           “And when this is all over, we can go back to Arrow House. We’ll get married and create our life together.” Her soothing words managed to get his shoulders to relax and subdue the pounding ache in his head.

           He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist and kissed her slowly. Her lips soft on his, lulling him into a calmer state. When they drew apart, Tommy hugged her close and pressed his face into the crook of her neck.

           “I can’t lose you.” He whispered. The vulnerability he kept hidden was straining to be heard through his voice. No matter how hard he tried to keep it under wraps.

           “You won’t.” She promised softly. “I’m not going anywhere. Especially not Surrey.”

           He laughed weakly. “I think you’re the only person in this world who would rather stay in Birmingham instead of Surrey.” He lifted his head to look at her.

           “I’d rather stay wherever you and Charlie are. Wherever my family is.” She smiled and kissed him again.

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Masterpost

Masterlist

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG174!

- I absolutely ADORED how the sound effects were telling a story by themselves, giving a graduating sense of dread, with variations and quieter moments. With the wind blowing and occasionally howling, getting stronger, almost covering Jon’s voice at some points, it really felt like the sounds were competing with the words to give The Vast’s statement? (And in my mind, it felt like the team of editors competing against Jonny! It was so nice!)

I also loved how the steps of the colossus were adding a bit of pressure and gravitas, both to the statement and to the conversation: the distant low-pitched impact right after Martin’s “Do it.”, asking Jon to smite Simon? It was an easy trick, but it worked SO WELL to highlight the “Oh SHIT” moment! It was more subtle at other points of the arguments, but still reinforcing the feeling, that ideas were violent by themselves while the words were hammered in.

- I reaaaaally liked the tone Jon used in the statement, too, because it was very soft and rhythmic? There wasn’t the edge of cruelty that we had heard in other statements + combined with the fact that the focus wasn’t much on victims-hurting-other-victims-because-forced-by-the-Fear-system this time around, the statement felt more existentialist and overall a bit of a breather, which, ha. Fitting for The Vast, I guess. (Still people suffering, still people in pain, but one of the less upsetting statements this season, for me?)

- A bit surprised that Simon didn’t go for a space-related domain, but this one also made sense given what he had told Martin in season 4:

(MAG151) SIMON: I’ve actually been toying with the idea of trying to do something with the scale of humanity itself; you know, emphasise all that “overpopulation” nonsense, but… honestly, it just… doesn’t ring true for me. We’re all just so tiny and pointless, you see; it’s hard to really get past it. […] Do you know when the last ritual I attempted was? MARTIN: I… I don’t know, that space station? SIMON: Oh goodness no, that’s the future my boy!

Was this domain Ex Altiora made a reality, or it’s “just” that The Vast tends to be a bit less creative – big thing, too big for the human mind to compute, threatening you?

(MAG046, Herbert Knox) “It told the tale of a small, unnamed town high on a clifftop that sees a monstrous creature about to approach. The poem is unclear on whether it is a beast, a demon or a god, as it uses the words interchangeably. It is seen far-off, its head and body lost amongst the clouds. The majority of the story details the villagers’ attempts to prepare to do battle against this creature, but each time they devise a counter-measure, the thing gets closer and is shown to be far larger than previously suspected, rendering their preparation insignificant. At last, when it is almost upon them, its impossible vastness undeniable, the villagers surrendered to despairs, and hurled themselves off the clifftops onto the rocks far below.”

Still laughing a lot that Simon called this one “Junior” (I mean, he was proud of naming his last ritual “The Awful Deep”…).

- It was interesting how both statements dealt with the same situation from different perspectives, and how each related to The Vast? Edward was part of the colossus, Mehreen was watching it approach and threaten to crush her.

Edward was part of the colossus that we could hear since the very beginning (the impact followed by gusts of whistling wind marking the colossus’s footsteps, which were putting a strain on the bodies, including Edward’s, intertwined all through it): he was part of a whole, lost in the whole, in pain and faced with two alternatives (staying there, suffering and submitted to movements he didn’t control, or falling). It was very odd because it felt almost comforting that the other hands brought him back in when he was expelled from the whole since, at that moment, he feared the fall the most (“He is falling, and he is so small, and so afraid he wonders if he will ever hit the ground. He does not want to die smeared over that flat and hateful wasteland far below, and he flails, limbs throwing themselves violently around, trying to catch a hold of something, anything to save himself.”) – it felt like others were… saving him? Helping him? Still leaving him the choice (“Despite his dread, it takes only a moment for him to make his decision: he reaches out with his other arm, and feels it gripped by a dozen hands as, slowly, inexorably, Edward allows himself to be pulled back into the great, suffering colossus.”)? Though in the grand scheme of things, he was still stuck in an unpleasant, excruciating painful situation, but… compared to previous statements, it was still partially on his terms, instead of something that was absolutely inflicted to him with no way out? Amongst the small things that made me go “!”, the “every body” (“Every muscle in every body tenses all at once”): going back to the original meaning of the phrase, with the fact that “everybody” is, at the core of the word, “every body”. I felt like it was working well with the concept of The Vast: the fact that individuals aggregated together form something larger.

For Mehreen’s part: part of the horror, in her case, was that The Vast played on her sense of her responsibility/duty, not only on what would personally happen to her and her only. She was the only one able to take care of her “family” while they had various reactions to it: the daughter (who is helpless), the husband (who is in denial over what’s happening – this one sure hits differently with the current pandemic), and the mother (who is… only “berating” over wrong decisions). But what interests me the most is how she was dealing with memories: we’ve seen in previous statements that people’s memories are a fuzzy thing, twisted and rewritten to further feed the fears. It was obvious with Mehreen’s family (the fear “gave” her people to have to care for, further isolating and crushing her towards the threat), but I find it very interesting that compared to previous domains, she felt… on the verge of awareness about it?

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: “Next to him, Charlie saw Ryan, who he’d known since childhood – though the other details were hazy. Ryan gave him a thumbs-up and an encouraging smile – before his face exploded inwards to a sniper’s bullet, peppering the boat with shards of bone and gore.”

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: “There was never a time before the disease, no matter what the old bastards tell you. It has always been in the village, always festered in the dark corners where nobody could stomach to check, where good neighbours wouldn’t dream to speculate.”

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: “Its pace remaining as it ever was, it does not care for coming pains as you are torn. Doesn’t it know who you are? No… And soon… neither will you. […] You will be someone again, someday. […] “I’m still Hannah!” you try to scream, but are you? No. Perhaps there’s some Veronica as fragments there, or Julian, or Anya, but… no. You feel the last of names and “who” you might have been be torn away and borne towards new bodies. New pages, blank; determined to be people.”

(MAG166) ARCHIVIST: “When had the crushing pressure in his chest become literal? When had the empty promise of the horizon finally vanished completely, replaced by the pitch darkness of this “forever wall of earth”? Sam did not know. Time had no meaning here. […] His existence was static, and eternal. Immutable. “Sleep” was only a memory, because even the prospect of unconsciousness might have made his present state slightly more bearable. Food as well, he knew, must be a thing, for he could feel the hunger, but his imagination failed to picture it. The only smell he knew was the damp, and the dirt.”

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: “How long as she lived here? How long have these cramped, dingy rooms in the back of this sprawling rundown tenement been the place her heart calls home? She cannot recall, but long enough for her to grow into love for it, to cherish every rusted appliance, every crumbling piece of plasterboard, every – flickering – lightbulb. […] Sabina cannot… picture their faces, but knows that should they wake to see the state of the place… their anger would be blistering. […] What floor was her flat on again? Surely, it can’t be this high. […] Limping and desperate, she turns to see her furniture in flames, the bookshelves full of memories, that she can’t quite place [STATIC RISES] but knows are precious to her, curl and float away as ash. The photos on the wall of her family whose faces seem indistinct but she knows that she loves, begin to blacken, as the glass pops out of the frame.”

(MAG174) ARCHIVIST: “When it had first covered her home, bathing the street beyond her window in unexpected shade, she had thought it an eclipse. There wasn’t supposed to be one then, she is… sure of that – although if pressed, she could not have told you what day it is today. Before the shadow fell, she is sure that the sun was shining brightly – although, if pressed, she could not have pictured it. And the humid heat of a lingering summer had left the world sleepy, and unprepared – although, if pressed, she remembers the heat, but not the season. […] Mehreen cannot quite make out their faces as she bundles them into the car, old and shuddering as it coughs into life. Does she remember having a child? A spouse? Does she remember her mother having such a cruel sneer? It doesn’t matter. They are here now, and she has to save them.”

(+ Martin’s predicament in MAG170, when his memories were escaping him and he was mostly able to remember the painful parts only, or Francis’s “friends and families” being only brought in to deepen their pain. If Martin was any indication: it’s really upon remembering who he truly was and the bits of his life that weren’t unpleasant that he managed to free himself from the house’s influence, enough for Jon to find him and, it seems, give his protection again.)

It’s all very dream-logic: the rules are new, you just accept them as is, and you only go “… Wait” as an afterthought. What is interesting regarding Mehreen is that the interrogations felt like she was on the verge of waking up – or was that Jon, as a narrator, who was able to perceive that these bits of information were falsehoods created by the nightmare? Was that distancing just a special flavour in this domain, or something linked to the fact that they’re getting closer to the Panopticon / to The Eye’s domain?

- … Vast-typical, but I’m still !! that there are apparently domains without ground:

(MAG174) ARCHIVIST: I’m not entirely sure what you were expecting, it’s The Vast. The clue is in the name! MARTIN: Yes, alright…! ARCHIVIST: Just be glad that this is one of the domains that actually has ground to walk on.

Let them fly, Jonny!!

(… Though there are probably also Vast domains with only water. Deep, deep water.)

- NOT A SURPRISE but Everything About Simon This Episode Was Beautiful.

(MAG174) MARTIN: Fine! Fine. How about Simon. How close are we to him? [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Hum… Close, [STATIC FADES] but he’s able to move a lot faster than we are in this place. MARTIN: Meaning…? ARCHIVIST: Meaning I know where he is, but… if he doesn’t want us to reach him, I don’t know if we’ll have much of a chance. MARTIN: … So… So what, we’re just going to trust him to… [CHUCKLING] show up to his own execut– [SIMON CRASHES ON THE GROUND] MARTIN: [SURPRISED SCREAM] ARCHIVIST: [TINY CHUCKLES] MARTIN: Jesus! ARCHIVIST: Uh… Apparently! [CLEARING AWAY RUBBLE] SIMON: [STRAINED] … Hello…! [BONES CRACKING] [GROAN] Hello. Dreadfully sorry. [SIGH] I only just noticed you were both here! That’s the problem with having such a big place, you know – [INHALE] you can miss things if you’re not careful.

* Simon was probably NYOOOOOM-ing in the sky until then. I’m only surprised that there wasn’t a direct “Enjoy Sky Blue” reference.

* The fact that Simon crash-landed. What an entrance.

* =D And the self-inflicted prophecy has been fulfilled: Jon met Simon Fairchild. (MAG124: “Fairchild seems to travel far and wide for his victims, with no motivation other than… variety. I do not think I ever wish to meet him.”) Though honestly, Jon took his meeting with the old man faaaar better than I would have thought – I was assuming that he would get on Jon’s nerves much more easily.

* Martin’s prophetic words AND Jon’s “Apparently!”: was it to answer Martin’s comment about Simon showing up, or Martin’s scream of “Jesus!”. (Peter called him a “grubby Jesus” behind his back, Jon is allowed to call other avatars the same!)

* Old man popping back bones and dusting off rubble. Simon, ilu.

* I’m still such a fan of Simon’s breathlessness and intonations! You can hear that he’s a Vast avatar from the way he talks and breathes!

* I am laughing so much:

(MAG174) SIMON: Good to see you again, Martin! And you must be the famous Archivist, Herald of the Ceaseless Watcher, Harbinger of the New Age, etcetera. Lovely to meet you at last. ARCHIVIST: [SHORT EXHALE] SIMON: Simon Fairchild, at your service.

Over that “etcetera”. SIMON…………………… (It was so dismissive while, at the same time, HE chose to give Jon honorifics and nobody had asked.)

Really love how he’s still so funny and amiable while being absolutely awful =D Someone is having a great time.

- That someone wasn’t Martin.

(MAG174) SIMON: And how are you, Martin? Still trying to save the world and all that? MARTIN: … Yes. SIMON: Pity. … Well. Armageddon… it’s not for everyone, I suppose. I’m quite enjoying it, of course. Although… Junior over there can be a little bit of a handful. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] MARTIN: [AGGRAVATED INHALE] I might have guessed you’d be happy living in this nightmare. SIMON: I mean… not that it matters but… yes I am! Honestly, I think you could be too if you set your mind to it. But I’m not one to tell you how to live your eternity. MARTIN: … No. You’re not. Because I’m done listening to you! SIMON: I’m sorry? I’m not sure I follow. MARTIN: All those lies you told me… You helped to do this, you turned the world into your… your playground! SIMON: Hum… Not to be a pedant, but if you recall, I was actually doing a favour for Peter. And if Peter had won, none of this would have happened. Also, not to make excuses but they weren’t exactly lies, just… oversimplifications of complicated truths! And guesses. … A lot of guesses. [FOOTSTEPS] … A–almost all guesses really, now I come to think about it. MARTIN: Shut up! I don’t care.

… I would have loved to hear Simon and Elias interact, because “oversimplifications of complicated truths” as a new way to say “lie” is right up Elias’s alley (purposefully misleading, making guesses and presenting them with more certainty than you hold). It’s horrible that, technically, Peter was probably the most transparent avatar of the lot regarding his convictions? He was genuinely fearing The Extinction, he was genuinely hating Gertrude, he was genuinely trying to get Martin to join The Lonely for his own interests.

- Ooooh, how the tables have turned…

(MAG166) HELEN: Oh, hello! [FOOTSTEPS] In a better mood, are we? Feeling more secure now you’ve learned how to kill~? ARCHIVIST: [SHARP INHALE] Something like that. MARTIN: Will you tell me how he did it? ARCHIVIST: Martin… MARTIN: He just keeps going all vague about it! HELEN: Oh, goodness. You see what you’ve done to the poor boy, Jon? He’s coming to me for clear answers. [HELEN LAUGHS AND LAUGHS] ARCHIVIST: Shut up! HELEN: It’s very satisfying though, isn’t it? Teasing out vague information; you see why Elias got a kick out of it. ARCHIVIST: Shut up! MARTIN: Jon…! HELEN: You’re right, Martin. He is tetchy…! MARTIN: I didn’t say he was te– HELEN: So! So! An explanation.

(MAG174) SIMON: Goodness! We’re rather tetchy, aren’t we? ARCHIVIST: We’ve… [CHUCKLING] not been having an easy journey. MARTIN: Jon. ARCHIVIST: What – it’s true, we haven’t.

Jon&Simon vs. Martin, just like Helen&Martin vs. Jon (down to the “tetchy”).

- I’ll be laughing forever over Simon fleeing the heck out of the situation and saving his own life in the process:

(MAG174) MARTIN: That’s enough. Jon? ARCHIVIST: Uh… Yes? MARTIN: … Do it. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] ARCHIVIST: Uh… SIMON: “Do” what? MARTIN: … Kill him. ARCHIVIST: Uh… SIMON: Han–hang on. Can he do that? MARTIN: He can, and he’s going to! [FOOTSTEPS] SIMON: Oh! ARCHIVIST: [STAMMERING] Oh, uh… SIMON: Right, just, hum… Seems a bit rude, to be honest! MARTIN: … Jon? ARCHIVIST: J–just give me a moment, I– SIMON: In fact, yes! You know what? I’ll, I’ll probably just be going, then! I–I–I’d prefer to keep existing, if it’s all the same to you, hum…! MARTIN: J–Jon?! ARCHIVIST: I– SIMON: Been lovely chatting to you! Good to see you guys! MARTIN: [STAMMERING] SIMON: Feel free to pop by again when you’re feeling less, uh. Murdery. MARTIN: Jon!! SIMON: Byeeeee! [SIMON DEPARTING / YEETING HIMSELF OUT] [WIND GENTLY HOWLING] [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] [FOOSTEP] MARTIN: You let him go. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah…

SIMON. Some have mentioned that Simon was a cartoon character and, yeah. Absolutely. The sudden stammering and amiability while he was behaving like a coward? The fact he really didn’t want to die despite his Grand Talks about the meaningless of one’s existence in The Vastness Of The Universe?

(MAG151) SIMON: It’s all a matter of perspective, you see. My patron has gifted me with… quite frankly, an absurdly long life. An appropriate gift, and one that serves to provide a certain distance from things. Of course, a paltry few centuries is nothing, really, but it’s more than most get. And even in that brief time, I’ve seen all sorts of ebbs and flows to balance off things. […] MARTIN: Assuming The Extinction doesn’t derail everything…! SIMON: Which is why… I’m happy helping Peter. But! If it does: then I’ll either be dead, which will be fine, or… I’ll adjust. […] Life has continued through dozens of apocalypses already. Ice ages; pandemics; calamities; extinctions… The only reason this one feels special is because, well… it’s happening to you. And that’s the sort of solipsism that tends to come with loneliness – in my experience. So. My feeling is that I’ll help out where I can; but ultimately, if this “Armageddon” comes off, then… so be it. Either billions suffer and life goes on; or billions suffer and life doesn’t. In the grand scheme of things, it’s all… much of a muchness.

Slightly hypocritical, uh? When it comes to himself, he’s ~insignificant~ but still ready to cling to his own life as long as he can enjoy things.

- Jon explained his reasons for stopping the Smiting Avatars quest, and they’re very sound arguments… but it’s still interesting that it confirms that the only avatars he killed (Not!Sasha, Jude, Jared) were the ones who marked him, while Jon was more lenient towards the ones who hadn’t (Arthur Nolan, Oliver, Simon, Helen if we assume that Michael marked Jon first, and that Michael!Distortion and Helen!Distortion are different enough). Helen has not been super threatening this season, but she has tried to upset him on purpose, making fun of him, and yet, Jon didn’t really raise the possibility of eradicating her (he only mentioned that it would hurt them both, but mostly Helen, if he were to use her corridors). I’m reassured that he’s not trying to mindlessly kill avatars but it’s still curious…

(And I still wonder how Jon would react in front of Daisy and Melanie, who marked him for the Hunt and Slaughter…)

- I’m still very curious about Helen trying to push so much for murder?

(MAG174) HELEN: I just wanted to add my vote to the disappointed side. MARTIN: Wait, really? HELEN: I was rather looking forward to watching an old man metaphysically explode. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] HELEN: Honestly, I feel a little bit cheated. The others were exceptional fun. ARCHIVIST: … Y–you were watching? HELEN: [CHUCKLING] Of course! As much fun as the new world is, I am not about to miss a real, honest-to-godless demigod murder spree! [LAUGHS AND LAUGHS, ECHOING] MARTIN: [SIGH] You’re really not helping. HELEN: I’m not trying to! ARCHIVIST: Look, it’s none of your business. Either of you. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] MARTIN: Like hell it isn’t! ARCHIVIST: Martin. MARTIN: Don’t “Martin” me! Sure, he looks like a harmless old man, but if– ARCHIVIST: I know, Martin – I know all the things he’s done. HELEN: Fantastic…! So, rip him up! Pop him! Oh, oh, but, hum, just give me a bit of a head-start so I can find a good spot.

* Helen, absolutely proud that she’s “not helping”.

* … Helen, you REALLY sound like you have a death wish.

* Helen had already watched Not!Sasha’s smiting in MAG165 (since she commented about it in the following episode), and now acknowledged that she watched the others. It’s the third time she’s appeared in front of Jon&Martin. For someone who claimed to be enjoying the new world and be exceptionally busy… Helen has been spending a LOT of time looking at Jon&Martin’s journey. Why…? Is it because their conflicted feelings are feeding her? Is it because she’s monitoring them? Is she hiding someone (Annabelle, or Georgie&Melanie) inside of her corridors…? She had contributed to Jon getting his last mark (it’s still a bit unclear to me, but Peter&Martin were discussing about “the door” at the beginning of MAG158: she might have given Peter the tunnels’ map), but we still don’t know much about her intentions apart from “enjoying the chaos” (which… would be enough considering The Distortion). Why is she so encouraging of Jon’s murder spree, in a way that is so transparent…? Is it a remnant of the original Helen Richardson, trying to feel better about her own choices by having Jon succumb to the temptation of monsterhood like she has…?

* It’s… interesting that Jon couldn’t apparently tell that she had been “watching” when he smote the other avatars. I’d have thought he would be able to tell but, apparently, if he’s not focusing, he can’t know that she’s there.

- When it comes to the episode feeling like a “breather”: technically, it wasn’t hard after last week! But it was significantly less tense, and there was progress regarding Jon’s own boundaries and what he wants to do with his powers, and… cute bantering. Jon being a chirpy little SHIT from the start of the discussion segment:

(MAG174) MARTIN: [SIGH] … [BAG JOSTLING] Is it much further? ARCHIVIST: [SMALL CHUCKLE] Yes. MARTIN: Urgh…! ARCHIVIST: I’m not entirely sure what you were expecting, it’s The Vast. The clue is in the name! MARTIN: Yes, alright…! ARCHIVIST: Just be glad that this is one of the domains that actually has ground to walk on. MARTIN: Whatever. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] S–so how far are we from the other side? And–and don’t say time and space don’t work here, that’s a cop-out and you know it. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Fine! Three days. MARTIN: Thank you. [SILENCE] … Wait. Wait, what counts as a day? ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLING] What an excellent question! MARTIN: Oh my go–! You can be infuriating sometimes, you know that? ARCHIVIST: [ANGELIC] … Yes!

… No static =D While on two other occasions, Jon used his powers to “know” about things:

(MAG174) MARTIN: Fine! Fine. How about Simon. How close are we to him? [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Hum… Close, [STATIC FADES] but he’s able to move a lot faster than we are in this place. […] MARTIN: … You’re removing evil from the world! ARCHIVIST: I, I’m not, though, am I? [STATIC RISES] The tenement fire is still burning; the mortal garden is growing wild; the carousel i– HELEN: Ugh! [STATIC FADES]

So Jon didn’t even try on that first one. I mean, Martin brought it onto himself – how could Jon describe distances without Objective Time And Space except by “far” and “close” (like in MAG167, where Jon confirmed that they could rest a bit since the next domain was still far from them)? Martin is the little kid on the car backseat, uh.

… But also: Martin closed the last episode saying that the kids from The Dark’s domain would “just need to hang on a little longer”, and that the faster they would reach the Panopticon, the faster they could put a stop to this. No wonder he was impatient to reach the end of this one, since he knows now what the kids’ nightmare looked like.

(I’m still REELING over Jon’s “Yes! :)” over knowing that he’s infuriating sometimes. He knows and he’s proud of it and knows that Martin is dating this infuriating prick =D)

- … So, once again: avatars know about Jon’s status and that the apocalypse happened through him.

(MAG164) HELEN: What would I have to gloat about? Much as I am delighted by this brave new world in which we find ourselves, I can take no credit for it. This was all… you!

(MAG165) NOT!SASHA: Well, of course you want to wallow in my shame like your voyeur master!

(MAG166) HELEN: We’re all here, Martin. The Stranger; The Buried; The Desolation; all of us. But The Eye still rules. All this fear is being performed for its benefit. And so, there are now exactly two roles available in this new world of ours: the watcher, and the watched. Subject, and object. Those who are feared, and those who are afraid. And Jon, well… he is part of The Eye; a very important part.

(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “This report is being sent to: The Great Eye, that watches all who linger in terror, and gorges itself on the sufferings of those under its unrelenting, stuporous gaze! And its Archive, which draws knowledge of this suffering unto itself. […] Perhaps once it might have horrified me, or given me some sense of pursuing the ultimate release of the world that you have damned.”

(MAG169) JUDE: Fancy seeing you both here. To what, exactly, do I owe the pleasure, the honour, of being graced by the great and powerful Archivist, harbinger of this new world, and his, uh… valet…? […] Just messing around~! Wouldn’t want to keep you from your oh-so-special business, Your Holiness.

(MAG171) JARED: Mm. … So, is there any way this doesn’t end in me dead? I’m guessing that’s on the docket if you’re here. Unless you’re just here to smell the flowers.

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: “THE SPIDER: Oh, Francis… It’s such a shame, but I couldn’t do such a thing even if I wanted to! The man in the audience saw to that!”

(MAG173) CALLUM: … You’re the Eye guy, right? ARCHIVIST: That’s right. CALLUM: So you’re like… real important. ARCHIVIST: [HUFF] I suppose I am!

(MAG174) SIMON: Good to see you again, Martin! And you must be the famous Archivist, Herald of the Ceaseless Watcher, Harbinger of the New Age, etcetera. Lovely to meet you at last. ARCHIVIST: [SHORT EXHALE] SIMON: Simon Fairchild, at your service. [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: I know who you are. SIMON: [CHUCKLES] Of course you do! I imagine you know pretty much everything by this point. How is it? How does it feel? [SHUFFLING] ARCHIVIST: … Strange. SIMON: Yes! I can imagine. These gifts can feel very disconcerting at times. I’m sure you’ll get used to it eventually. […] We don’t get many visitors these days, and, well. You might be the closest thing the universe has ever had to an important person! ARCHIVIST: Uh… I, hum… SIMON: I mean, obviously you’re still ultimately finite and all that, but [INHALE] altering the very fabric of reality, that’s… [WHISTLE] That’s pretty good going, all things considered. […] HELEN: [CHUCKLING] Of course! As much fun as the new world is, I am not about to miss a real, honest-to-godless demigod murder spree! [LAUGHS AND LAUGHS, ECHOING] […] I honestly thought that actually ending the world would be enough to stop you whining, but no! You’re the most powerful person, in a world where the worst consequences imaginable have already happened! Absolute power, with zero responsibility! What more can you possibly need to just – enjoy – yourself – a tiny – bit!

So, nothing new, but still eternally laughing that Jon was apparently marked as harbinger-of-the-apocalypse and that nobody cares about Jonah.

- I’m squinting at what Simon said regarding Jon’s powers:

(MAG174) SIMON: Well, in that case, thank you for swinging by to my… huge corner of the apocalypse. We don’t get many visitors these days, and, well. You might be the closest thing the universe has ever had to an important person! ARCHIVIST: Uh… I, hum… SIMON: I mean, obviously you’re still ultimately finite and all that, but [INHALE] altering the very fabric of reality, that’s… [WHISTLE] That’s pretty good going, all things considered.

Because it reminds me of the wording used for Hill Top Road?

(MAG139, Eugene Vanderstock) “But it seems the fight scarred the place in a way far deeper than simple fire. A scar in reality, that I believe has since been compounded by the interferences of other powers.”

(MAG146) HELEN: There is… something wrong, with Hill Top Road. You know it as well as I do. Some strange “scar in reality” at the centre of… whatever it is the Spider is spinning.

(And it’s still interesting regarding Jon’s status: if he is the one who “altered the very fabric of reality”, can he alter it back? Can he alter it in another way again? It still feels like if someone can do anything about the new configuration, it will be him…)

- I’m suuuuuuuuuuuuper glad at Martin’s rant and anger towards Simon, because it’s… coming close to talking about his own feelings regarding the apocalypse – the fact that he was misled all through season 4 to believe that The Extinction was the most urgent threat, and the fact that he was used by Jonah to give Jon his last mark with The Lonely, and the fact that… Martin chose to not kill Jonah Magnus’s body, unaware that it was still playing the game (and making Elias win). Martin hadn’t mentioned his own guilt so far, the fact that he was used by Jonah (and by Peter, and that Simon played with him a bit) and that he could have technically prevented everything if he had just stabbed Jonah in the Panopticon. I wonder if he will talk about that at some point?

It’s also interesting that this episode ended with the awkwardness of Jon inviting Martin to “lead on” before remembering that he’s the one knowing about the direction and correcting himself (“Follow me, then”) while Martin had expressed some anguish over the fact that he was “following, al–always following, never leading; never leading” in MAG170: it feels like there could be some feeling brewing over his own uselessness and powerlessness right now? Or like someone (Annabelle, Helen, Jonah) could definitely try to use it against him – Annabelle already did (“Does he even need you at all?”), which Jon kind of appeased the following episode (“Yes, Martin, you are my reason.”), but it could still come into play.

- Overall I’m not surprised that Martin absolutely wanted Simon dead in these circumstances – and it might be why he embraced the smiting spree so easily, because it could allow him (through Jon) to hurt back the avatars and monsters who had toyed with people? Peter is already dead, and Jonah is still far away. I reaaaally didn’t like the smiting spree, but I can understand how Martin had wanted to embrace it as a short-term solution; that’s the closest thing he could have to get some power back. (Simon admitted that The Extinction and what he had told Martin had mostly been “guesses”, but I also still wonder if it’s not going to be relevant, though not exactly as defined by Adelard… Simon had told Martin, in MAG151, that cataclysms and end-of-the-worlds had technically always been a thing depending of the point of view – it doesn’t mean that everything was bollocks.)

- Once again, what is Martin’s status in the new world? Because Simon’s comment definitely sounded like he was seeing Martin as one-of-the-avatars:

(MAG174) MARTIN: [AGGRAVATED INHALE] I might have guessed you’d be happy living in this nightmare. SIMON: I mean… not that it matters but… yes I am! Honestly, I think you could be too if you set your mind to it. But I’m not one to tell you how to live your eternity.

We haven’t seen Martin use Lonely powers apart from the end of MAG149, and his status was ambiguous in the Lonely house from MAG170, but mmmm…

- I’m laughing so much over Martin still being petty over Jon sparing Simon, because it sounded ONCE AGAIN like jealousy and it makes Martin out to be so over-the-top:

(MAG174) MARTIN: Why did you let him go– ARCHIVIST: Uh… MARTIN: –Jon? ARCHIVIST: I don’t… know, I just–! [SIGH] I didn’t want to kill him. MARTIN: Why not? Because he was nice to you? [FOOTSTEP] Because he was charming, because he was fun? ARCHIVIST: No, I–I–I, I just…

Martin is a bitch and I LOVE HIM. (Also, that sounds like Martin himself found Simon charming&fun.)

I’m able to appreciate his over-the-topness because he also gave genuine reasons, was aware that it was a bit humiliating:

(MAG174) MARTIN: … Good point! [SMALL CHUCKLES] I’ll keep my apology, then. [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] [BAG JOSTLING] [SMALL CHUCKLES] … I do kind of wish you’d waited until after Fairchild to have your crisis, though. ARCHIVIST: You really want that old man dead…! MARTIN: I mean, su–, yeah, sure, when you say it like that it sounds bad! ARCHIVIST: But what did he do to you? MARTIN: … He threatened to throw me off a rollercoaster. ARCHIVIST: Ah! MARTIN: … Okay, I, I know it sounds like a joke, but– ARCHIVIST: No, obviously, he’s an avatar of The Vast, I understand, it’s a scary threat coming from him. MARTIN: Yeah! ARCHIVIST: It just… doesn’t sound like a scary threat. MARTIN: Thanks for that.

Martin sounds INCREDIBLY PETTY, once again, but it’s also very valid: back in MAG151, I appreciated how his “How do you feel about… rollercoasters?” / “Uh… neutral” answer had protected him from both of the usual outcomes (getting recruited as a Vast avatar or fed to it as a victim), but it’s true that it was still a threat, thrown casually by a powerful avatar who was flexing that he could just kill him if he wanted to. It doesn’t feel good to be spared just because your potential tormentor decided that you were “no fun”.

It was cute of Jon to very awkwardly try to break it down, and kind of make it worse in the process – because yes, it sounded like a ridiculous threat said like this… but also, Simon would have done it, and it was a genuine threat.

- I’m absolutely delighted that Jon explained his feelings regarding the smiting – a mix of firmness and getting his points across, and that Martin apologised for pushing him in that direction ;w;

(MAG174) ARCHIVIST: I–I just–! … This whole… “avenging angel” thing, I–I’m not… It doesn’t feel right. MARTIN: … It seemed to feel right when we were avenging all the wrongs done against you! ARCHIVIST: I know. I–I–I know, alright? But, well, th–… [SIGH] That’s kind of the problem, I have all this… power and, and I, I want to use it to try and help, but I… I don’t know, I mean, I do. Uh… I’ve done so much damage, an–and anything that might help to balance that is–! [SOFT SIGH] … But killing other avatars, it, it’s not… I, I don’t think it makes anything better. I think it just makes me worse. MARTIN: … You’re removing evil from the world! ARCHIVIST: I, I’m not, though, am I? [STATIC RISES] The tenement fire is still burning; the mortal garden is growing wild; the carousel i– […] [SIGH] I, I, I… [SIGH] I’m sorry, Martin. After meeting the child, I thought… I’ve been… I really hoped things would be simpler, you know? A nice, straightforward apocalypse. MARTIN: [INHALE] No… [SIGH] No, I’m sorry. Cheerleading you when you’re on a magical murder spree probably… wasn’t a great idea. ARCHIVIST: I started it. MARTIN: … Good point! [SMALL CHUCKLES] I’ll keep my apology, then.

Sentence of the episode for me: “But killing other avatars, it, it’s not… I, I don’t think it makes anything better. I think it just makes me worse.”

I’m glad that Martin was able to keep (some of) his pettiness in check enough to hear him out, though, and that he apologised (I really didn’t hear the “I’ll keep my apology, then” as something serious, but as cute banter between a couple who are back on the same wavelength: Martin had already admitted that he behaved poorly – it’s not something he can exactly take back); and on the other hand, that Jon also explained how it didn’t work. It’s like Martin isolating himself during the statement: they’ve made a mistake, they’re ready to acknowledge it, and they decide to not make it again. (Though, where was Martin during the statement portion this episode? At least in MAG171 and (partially) MAG172, he had stayed close to Jon.)

Right now, the problem with Jon’s powers really isn’t whether he can but whether he should – and the fact that he feels like it might be negatively impacting him is a valid argument (+ the ethical concern, not mentioned, of being judge/jury/executioner all by himself). The season began with The Eye wanting Jon to leave the cabin, wanting for the cabin to be his “chrysalis”, and… that cannot be good.

- I still lovelovelove how, since the reveal in MAG158 that “Elias Bouchard” was actually Jonah Magnus, Jon&Martin… are still mostly sticking to “Elias”.

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: Uh– yes. And I’d wager that Elias’s body, uh… BASIRA: Gotta be Jonah Magnus, right? ARCHIVIST: I’d say so. BASIRA: [SIGH] And he’s been body-hopping like whatever was in Rayner. […] PETER: … No. No! This isn’t fair, do you have any idea what you’ve done? You knew, he must have– MARTIN: Elias– … Jonah had nothing to do with it.

(MAG160) MARTIN: Are we… … Are we safe here? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Safe as anywhere else. If Elias wanted to find us, I imagine he could, but… I doubt the police will be able to. […] Does she know if they’ve found the old prison yet? The… Panopticon, Elia– … Magnus’s body.

(MAG161) MARTIN: [SIGH] Gloating, Jon. [CREAKING SOUND] Elias won, and there were some tapes he’d kept for himself, and he wanted to gloat. So, he sent them! ARCHIVIST: He’s not… MARTIN: I–I don’t see– ARCHIVIST: … “Elias”. MARTIN: Jonah, then. I don’t know, I find it hard to think of him as… I don’t really like to think of him!

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: No, no, lo–look… I, I–I was listening, and I–I was filled with this… hatred. This anger; I–I wanted to leave, and hunt down Elias, a–and…! MARTIN: W–wow, okay… […] Do you think it’ll do anything? Confronting Elias? ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] I… [SIGH] Maybe? MARTIN: No, I’m serious. Do we… [PAUSE IN THE PACKING SOUNDS] Is there a chance that we can undo this?

(MAG164) MARTIN: What about Elias? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: He’s inside the Panopticon; the tower, far above the world. MARTIN: That one? ARCHIVIST: Yes. [PAUSE] MARTIN: How is he? ARCHIVIST: Hard to say. The, the way this works, this… “new sight”, the knowledge is, is… [SIGH] It’s somehow wrapped up in the Panopticon? An eye can’t… see inside itself. MARTIN: Mm. ARCHIVIST: But I can feel him in there. MARTIN: Hm. That sounds… gross. ARCHIVIST: It is! [CHUCKLES]

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: Help us with what? MARTIN: ‘xcuse me? ARCHIVIST: Annabelle, help us with “what”? Our–our, our journey, killing Elias, vanishing the Entities – what?

(MAG174) MARTIN: Thanks for that. … Hang on, you’re still down to kill Elias, right? Uh, oh, Jonah, whatever. ARCHIVIST: I’m still going to confront him. [INHALE] I don’t know if killing him is something I’m even… capable of, but if I can and I have to, I will. MARTIN: Yeeah? ARCHIVIST: Don’t worry. I won’t hesitate.

Because: same. He still doesn’t really register as “Jonah Magnus” to me.

I’m also laughing a lot at Martin, who began the season with “I don’t really like to think of Elias :/” and, since then, has most often been the one to breach the subject of Elias (+ we can add MAG170: “I mean, the interview was weird, I… I don’t really remember the man who talked to me. Just his eyes. They stared at me; th–through me, and… and, I–I knew that he knew what I’d done. God, I…! I was so scared, but… but then he smiled and shook my hand…! What was his name? [CREAKING] He said I “had the job”…! [CHUCKLE] That he “looked forward to working with me”! … I was still so scared I could barely move my arm…! I was so terrified I’d let him down…!” – even when he was losing his memories, still remembering Elias’s eyes, and THIS is how MartinElias can still w–)

I really wonder if they’ll even try to call him “Jonah” when face-to-face with him, or… will still stick to “Elias” out of habit.

- … Well. That is, if Elias still has a face. We know that some part of him still remains in the Panopticon-Institute (MAG164: “He’s inside the Panopticon; the tower, far above the world.”), that Jon can still “feel” him there, but the fact that Jon can’t know more about it (because “an eye can’t see inside itself”) combined with the fact that Jon’s anger towards him was a key point in making them leave the cabin and the confrontation with Elias is still their current goal… keeps making me think that Elias might not be in the same state as he was in MAG158. Stuck in layers and layers of spiderwebs? Merged with the Panopstitute (since his powers relied on Magnus’s body staying in the middle of it)? Stuck inside of his old body? What is the part of Jonah Magnus can feel inside the Panopstitute: is it Jonah Magnus’s body or his consciousness? Is it still both?

- Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm Jon.

(MAG174) MARTIN: Hang on, you’re still down to kill Elias, right? Uh, oh, Jonah, whatever. ARCHIVIST: I’m still going to confront him. [INHALE] I don’t know if killing him is something I’m even… capable of, but if I can and I have to, I will. MARTIN: Yeeah? ARCHIVIST: Don’t worry. I won’t hesitate. MARTIN: … Right. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] [INHALE] Right, alright then. Good. … Let’s go, then. We don’t want to keep him waiting!

“I won’t hesitate,” he hesitated, hesitatingly.

Well. Not exactly: Jon’s tone was casually firm, but also felt a bit distracted and, most importantly… why the need to add so many conditions, Jon.

* “if I can”: true that, unlike other avatars until then, Elias is tied to Beholding. Can Beholding’s powers be used against another Beholding avatar? Elias resisted the compulsion in MAG092 (… or so he said, before spilling everything ~on his own terms uwu~ – he, at least, was able to delay the effects), so Jon’s cautiousness is understandable.

* “if I have to”: that one is a bit more unexpected, because that’s… a big condition. In what circumstances would Jon “have to” kill Elias? It’s good, though, because it implies that it’s not about plain revenge anymore, but whether it could help the situation.

Anyway: the shift to “confront Elias” is a good one! … And gives me the feeling that Elias either won’t be in a state to be confronted, either will have further contributions to make.

(- Martin’s “We don’t want to keep him waiting!” also brings to mind that Elias is probably aware that they’re coming, right now. He’s in the middle of the seeing-it-all tower: unless he’s already incapacitated, they won’t be taking him by surprise, and he might be prepared to welcome them.)

- … Welp, I was feeling like we were hitting rock bottom last week, hope-wise, but this episode felt… like a breather (ha)? Not exactly hopeful per se, but definitely lighter (Martin firm about wanting to save the world, Jon finally wording what was bothering him with the smiting, Martin apologising, Jon and Martin reaching an understanding, not playing Helen’s game and thinking about the Elias case). So, #BackToWorryingOverDaisy – Jon didn’t want to kill Simon, doesn’t want to kill avatars just for the sake of it, but there is still Daisy running wild…

(And I would still feel a bit (lot) miffed if Jon were to kill her, given that she’s part of Basira’s story, that Basira promised her and that Basira arguably got the worst of it when it came to being manipulated without achieving/“winning” anything in season 4? I think it’s more likely that Jon could have the power to incapacitate her and give the time for Basira to fulfil her promise, if there is no other way, but I don’t know, I keep hoping that there could be another way with the fact that Jon can change the rules (turning the feared into the afraid, changing the “fabric of reality”) and that Daisy had a connection to The Eye (she signed a contract in season 4)…)

   MAG175’s title is mysterioooous. If MAG174 hadn’t happened, I would have said “Vast” but… Mm. Only Spiral and Hunt left when it comes to domains, so I would wager Spiral, more specifically with digital fuckedupness, reminiscent of MAG065? (But I could also see how it could tie with Hunt if thinking about beginnings, and it could go very well with Extinction too… if this one ends up relevant again). In itself, the title feels perfect for lore about the new reality (tying in with a few meta considerations and comments which have been made by various avatars), so mmmmm: could also be a switch in perspective with Annabelle or Elias, I guess…

[cowandcalf]

10.11. – Review and some musing

Since yesterday I'm thinking about how to start this review. I guess it'll end up being an ode to McDanno. Because let's be honest…still after such a long time, years of being in love, my love for the boys is a blazing fire. They make me sit on the edge of the couch, smiling stupidly, happy with what I witness what's happening between them. They make me sweat and grin and cry and gasp for air.

So, I start with the boys. Honestly, I've never expected season 10 to be so freaking full of McDanno moments. Gosh, I'm still a bit beside myself. For example, the scene in Steve's office. Danny…Danny. This handsome man (and the haircut! This freaking hot Mohawk, gah!!!) gets me twisted in knots because I try to find out what's he's up to. Danny doesn't normally admit to Steve his inner secrets. The way he confessed so openly why he has made up the mold story? Uh-huh. Intense. He shows feelings. Shows how much he was worried about Steve without being ironic and ranting and cutting the air to pieces with his hands. Intense. That what it was. And Steve? Steve takes Danny's confession in stride, kind of shifts on his seat and says he was touched. Steve doesn't really know what he should do with this piece of information even though he’s known it the whole time. It's kind of a load of emotions getting dumped on Steve only to grow in intensity a second later.

The bonsai comment? So not Danny-like, at least, not to the Danny I'm used to. He admits just openly that he's started that hobby for therapeutic reasons, telling there that he's not okay, that he's needed some support, some help from the shrink-corner and that's new. Did he visit a therapist? A psychologist? Does he still have sessions? Steve didn't ask any of this but the questions hang in the air. Danny, being just Danny, tells him of course, he doesn't normally inform everyone that he has a bonsai but he's just said it to Steve. So, he wants Steve to know and he even takes his miniature tree to Steve's house where he’s gong to trim this little precious tree with the special clipper doing this with a steaming cup of coffee beside him on Steve’s table only dressed in a flimsy shirt and old boxer shorts and Steve forgets how to breathe and decides to wear only sweat pants made of heavy cotton farbric. Not so easy to stretch. So, many hidden signs.

And what's with the burst pipe full of sewage? Yak, that's something traumatic when that happens, meaning Danny’s house was flooded with that stuff, ugh. At least, the bathroom and normally Danny would freak out, ranting, complaining, telling everyone how he's drawn the short straw from life. But none of this is happening. Danny smiles when he explains how the shit-smell has chased him out of his own home and he seeks refuge…at Steve's house. I'm sure he just made that story up, too and Steve knows this but still. Six to eight weeks! That's a long time and they haven't even mentioned where Danny would sleep. Maybe with Grace gone and Charlie growing older Danny feels lonesome and needs company.

But I can't get over Danny's sweet smile. The smile where he's asking Steve to let him crash at his place. It's a smile where one couldn't hide effectively enough the crush, they have one the one person that stands right in front of them. It's a sweet, tender, meaningful smile, uncommonly in Danny's repertoire to make faces. It's a gentle, genuine smile and it's connected to the stay at Steve's place. And normally Danny is the one who's annoyed and not Steve. Somehow the tables have turned and Danny tries to coax Steve into doing something Steve's not so fond of just for the fun of teasing Danny. Steve plays the annoyed one very well and all he can come up with are used towels. Ha!

Danny pushes boundaries twice in a short amount of time. He barges in Steve's door the first time without telling or calling or asking if it's okay with Steve. Now, just the same. He packs his bags and even takes his bonsai with him, stores his luggage in the office for Steve to see because Danny knows already Steve won't say no. So, what has Danny in mind? Living together for about two months? Jesus! I love this scene. It reveals Danny's softer side, an unexpected side. He wants to be with Steve that's a fact. And Steve lets him. I'm really curious about what's going on. Guys!!!! Ahhhh!

And the helicopter scene! That's another great McDanno moment. First, Danny jokes about animals although he loves animals. But he teases Steve about the gooses. And Steve comes up with the helicopter ride and doesn't even ask Danny if he's okay with it. He knows very well that Danny hates to fly with him. And oh, surprise! Danny goes! He jokes about the wild goose chase and Tani rolls her eyes at the boys! But Danny doesn’t scream and digs his heels in the ground just for the reason to show how much he doesn't want to be with Steve in a freaking helicopter, in the air!! Nope, he just went after Steve again with this mysterious smile.

As for the record, I…god…I loved seeing them paired up again, chasing bad guys, like in the old days. Time changes things, I get that but it was a great moment. And guess what. Steve is super correct and knows all the rules and is the pilot of the helicopter and yet he lets Danny use his cell although is highly prohibited and against the rules. But he lets Danny be. And Danny gives two shits about rules because they're in a no-fly zone because of gooses so no rules. And that's heavily teasing and an odd flirting with Steve. He dares him and Steve goes with it as always.

And I love that Steve still trusts Danny with all he's got. The Adam case bothers him and he leaves it to Danny to get through to his rogue team member. But Steve can't deny himself the comment if Danny can manage secrecy and Danny only lifts an eyebrow, tilting his head and quips a nice answer in return. Not offended in the slightest. That's really new and I freaking love it. Danny is much more relaxed and that rises my interest.

The guys going to live together for a longer time. That's going to be interesting and my heart whispers already poems of love…mm-hmm.

The half-season finale was just as good, as fantastic as every episode from season 10. I'm so in love. There's something thrilling about this season. It's heavy on the feels. The unexpected McDanno moments throw me. It's overwhelming. The cases are interesting and I never forget that it just a show and things might be bent a bit until they fit. Yes, they mess up timelines and don't follow up often on loose ends. I don't really dwell on those moments. I take what I get and I tend to extract the best moments for me. These 42 minutes and something always fills me with a giddy joy. I'm still enjoying every moment. It's still a wild ride and every episode leaves me with a lot to think about.

Lou is surprisingly fun. He's the one I struggle with the most. He's often over the top but so far, his scenes are filled with quip, pulling faces while discussing important leads, adding a lot of solid ohana-feelings and deep-rooted devotion to the team. This season Lou kind of grows on me. He's good people when he's not losing himself in some stupid, senseless explanation about how to dip malasadas in coffee or how to be a respected young man, or some stories about the good ol' days in Chicago.

The team has grown together. Tani fills her shoes and she walks tall. She's badass, proud, unwavering and would make Kono proud. She's full of admiration for Steve with the needed respect. But she's also the one who kind of sees the private person behind Steve the boss-man. She's caring and she's not afraid to show it. She loves Steve deeply, like a sister. She also breeches with ease Steve's professional persona. She expresses feelings and thoughts that have Steve gulp because it's so honest and straightforward and I love that.

Junior… man, this guy captured my heart. He's great. He's Earth where Steve's Air. They match as perfect Brothers. I'm always calm knowing Steve's not totally detached from his former, very important life as a SEAL. Junior watches out for him. Always, everywhere. He's grown a fantastic backbone and I'll never get tired of watching him morphing into a SEAL. He becomes a brother and a teammate for Steve. My heart still skips a few beats remembering the scene where they freed Joe White and Steve ordered him to stay behind, to not get entangled with the danger. And Junior's answer came sharply and precisely like a shot. "Today I'm a Seal and you're not my boss. We're a team and I'm coming with you." He said it with such confidence it blew me away. And it took Steve one second to recognize Junior as his brother. Junior is Steve's younger brother and he's always all in or nothing. I love his courage and the tender, shy side he always shows together with Tani. I love this boy and he's a good company for Steve. Keeps him sane.

Adam…Adam. Yeah, there's a lot going on. The way he laid down his gun and the badge was dramatic. I'm not sure yet what to think of that. I have always liked Adam. He fits into the team although he has never undergone any police training. He's born and bred Yakuza got taught from his father, a big name in that world. He should have had the courage to just tell Steve that things went wrong and he has to quit the team. That would have been the right thing to do.

The way he did hide information to safe his girlfriend was okay for me. Steve would have done the same, Lou and also Danny were already in such a situation and they just did what had to be done without informing anyone. But with Adam things went sideways and he went rogue, also emotionally and friendship-wise. After everything was settled he should have gone to Steve and get things out of the way. Steve would have understood. There, I don’t get Adam’s intentions.

Quitting the team like that? The worst imaginable way for Steve. You don't just quit the team and that's an emotional blow for Steve just because Steve cares for every single member on his team. But as I see it, Adam's world shifted when he lost Kono. Being an important member of the Yakuza makes you a slave, for a lifetime. You never can get out. So, they say. No freaking chance. Adam's history proves that. He killed his brother. He tried to be an honest businessman only to realize his past bites him in the ass. He ran away and tried to start a new life with Kono only to lose Kono to her obsession with a case that grew out of hand. Adam loves with all he's got. He has found new love with an old friend, unsurprisingly a daughter of a Yakuza boss. Adam grew up with all those people and now he's back in this energy. He knows the game. He's found a new woman and he loves again. For a man like Adam, he will do everything in his power to protect his woman. He won't lose again a woman he loves.

And his move to quit the team is about the woman he now loves. He has to stay close, by her side. Maybe he realized he only can really play one tune, only be fully immersed in one game, being on the Yakuza team. He betrays Five-O but as it seems Adam has reached a crossroad and his decision is made when he sits down at the head of a big table with other members of Tamiko's family and members of her father's clan.

Quinn…she wasn't in the episode and with some shame I have to admit I didn't even realize it. Not until someone pointed out that Quinn was missing. God, that's so horrible of me. She's a great team member but I seem to have a blind spot for her on the team. She doesn't leave an imprint. I can't tell you why. It's just…she's there and it's really good and she isn't and I don't miss her.

And the cliffhanger! Wo Fat is back. His name at least and seeing Steve's face when he spits his name revealed how much it pains him to just spell it. I think Steve might still have nightmares over what he had to undergo getting tortured, getting to hear dark, poisonous secrets his mother designed and everything came back to haunt Steve never to be really free of that massive emotional trauma. And now his nemesis is back in the form of Wo Fat's former wife. Just as cruel, brutal and cold-hearted as her husband. A killer seeking revenge with the deep wish to get to Steve.

Wow!

Season 10…ten points out of ten!

[somedayonbroadway]

8 for fanfic writing

8) What is a scene that you wrote that you are most proud of?

Okay, this is a difficult one to answer. I write lots of scenes that don’t even get published and I still love them to death.

If I had to chose one though, it’s one of the scenes in one of my chapter fics called Top Secret. If there’s anything I love writing, it’s suspense.

It’s the scene after Race catches Jack doing something very dangerous and unexpected. Jack pretends he’s never met Race before when Race has the chance to confront him.

Then this scene happens...

The elevator was going to take too long. Stairs! Take the damn stairs, you idiot!

He could already be too late.

He ran up four flights of stairs. He was barely winded by the end of it, only breathing hard because of the panic swirling around in his head.

Rushing up to his own door, Jack fumbled in his pocket for his keys. But when he unlocked the door, he tried to open it only for it to get stuck. Something was blocking it. So he knocked on the door with purpose and tried to shove the thing open. "Racer! Open the door!" he demanded, his fear and worry inadvertently swirling into frustration.

"No! Go away!" came the reply of a little boy who was so obviously shaken.

"Goddamn it, Anthony Michael Higgins Junior! Open the door n' let me explain!"

"Leave me alone!"

Jack growled. "I swear to God, Racer... I need ta talk to ya. J'st open the door!" After all of these years... after all of his fighting and all his struggling... he couldn't lose this boy.

After trying to throw the door open by throwing his body weight against it, Jack shook his head and moved over to the next door on his left. It was opened almost immediately. "Jack, baby, what's wrong?"

"Racer's havin' a breakdown..." Jack forced out, shaking his head in frustration. "I'm sorry, Miss Medda, c'n I use your window?"

Medda nodded immediately, stepping aside and gesturing for Jack to step in. The young man did. Rushing through, he caught sight of Katherine in the kitchen, cleaning off some dishes. "Hey, baby..." he muttered before sliding up next to her and giving her a quick peck on the lips. She smiled at him, not even saying a word. "I'm sorry 'bout rushin' out!" he called as he was walking away again, stopping only to press a kiss to Crutchie's forehead. The boy was dozing on the couch, his leg propped up on a few pillows. "Hey, Crutch..."

"Is Race okay?" he asked drowsily. Jack only smiled a little at that.

"He's gonna be fine, kiddo... I'm just gonna take him for a drive, see if it calms him down..." Jack soothed, beginning to walk over to the window at the back wall, sliding it open.

"Hey, Jackie? Did Race follow you ta work t'day? He said he w's gonna an' he wouldn't talk ta me afta' school..." Jack froze. This was so damn hard.

"No... I didn't see 'im..." And before anyone else could ask him anything else, he was slipping out the window.

Race curled in on himself on the couch. He had a backpack next to him, filled up with clothes and all the money he could scrounge up from his room, after all some psychopath had his wallet. He was debating with himself. He should get Crutchie. Maybe they could leave together. But Crutchie wouldn't believe him. Crutchie would try to stop him. But Jack wouldn't ever hurt Crutchie...

Then again, Race thought Jack would never hurt him.

Lost in thought, the boy hadn't heard footsteps coming towards him from the hallway. Not until he looked over and saw the man that he feared so much walking over to him. Race shot up, backing away as quick as Jack was advancing on him, but when Jack realized it, he slowed to a stop, carefully raising up his hands as a sign of peace. "Hey, hey, hey, kiddo... relax, okay? I know you're scared-"

"Stop!" Race demanded, grabbing the back pack off of the couch, and slinging it over his shoulder. "J'st... stop." He was staring at the man at the end of the hallway. This was the man that had always fought so hard to protect him. But Race had scene him today doing awful things. It was like he didn't even know him at all. "You're gonna try ta get in my head, just like her... so just don't, okay?"

Reluctantly, Jack shut his mouth, clenching his jaw and trying to just beg his baby brother to hear him out without even saying the words. But Race just lost it all over again, tears running down his face and shaky breaths entering his lungs. "William Snyder? Really? That's who you work for?" the boy asked, both disappointment and fear radiating off of him. "He's the most dangerous man in New York, Jack! He's killed people!"

"Racer, you have to calm down-" Jack tried, taking a step forward only for the boy to counter it.

"And Francis Sullivan... your dad's name... Jack... this ain't you!" Race cried backing up even more, reaching for the door.

"No, it ain't, baby brother, but ya gotta let me explain!" Jack begged, beginning to get desperate. He couldn't let Race walk away. Not that easy. There had to be something he could do to make it stop. "Anthony, you don't know what's gonna happen if you don't sit'cha ass down an' let me talk ta ya." He didn't. His brother would be in a world of hurt if he didn't just listen to what Jack had to say.

With a shake of his head, Race just began walking towards the door with purpose, trying not to show how petrified he was of the man he'd once run to for everything. "I don't wanna hear it, Jack, or Sully, or whateva' the hell your name is! I'm gonna go get Charlie n'... n' we'll go find ma..."

Jack hated what he knew he had to do next. He hated it with everything inside of him. "You ain't eva' goin' near that manipulative bitch again!" he stated, his eyes widening at the very thought. He reached into his pocket, a cloth gathering in his hand as he slowly advanced on the boy at the door.

"Ya know what, Jack, she ain't the best motha', but she neva' pretended that she was a good one." Those words hurt. Jack had to take a sharp breath to steady himself when those piercing blue eyes turned back to glare at him as Race was hesitating by the door after moving the chair that had been blocking it. This was his chance.

"Racer... I'm serious, pal... back away from the door or you're gonna regret it." He wished things were different. Truly, he did. But they weren't. This was his life and whether his brothers knew it or not, this was their life too. But Race wasn't listening. He put his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave. "Tony... I don't wanna have ta do this..."

"Just leave me alone, Jack..." Race breathed out, not exactly ready to leave behind the life that he'd been working so hard to be comfortable in. Maybe if he'd succeeded all that time ago, life would be better for them. Maybe if they'd just let him go, they wouldn't have this problem, and Crutchie could live his whole life thinking he had the perfect big brother who would always protect him and care about him. Maybe if Race was gone right now, things would be different.

Finally taking a breath and knowing leaving was his only option, not trusting his big brother in the slightest anymore, Race turned the handle and opened the door, only for it to be slammed back shut by a stronger hand right next to the boy's shoulder. "I can't let ya do this," Jack said, suddenly looking even more dangerous in Race's eyes. Race did the only thing he could think of.

He ran.

He dodged Jack's arms and made a beeline for the nearest fire escape, his big brother right behind him the whole way. "Stop it, Anthony! I don't wanna hurt you!"

"Then don't!" the boy cried, trying to pull open a window in the kitchen, only to feel that Jack was about to make his move. Jack's arms wrapped around him from behind, pinning the boy to his chest and before Race could think how to fight him off, the man was dragging his arms behind him, trying to pin them between their bodies. "Let me go!" Race sobbed out, struggling against his big brother. "Help! Please! Somebody help!"

"Shhh!" Jack hissed, finally able to hold the boy's arms behind him with one of his arms after he shoved the backpack to the ground, before bringing out the cloth and smothering it over the teenager's mouth and nose. Race started screaming harder as Jack dragged him back, away from the windows and into the middle of the apartment again. His brother was still putting up a hell of a fight and Jack couldn't help but try to hold back tears. "Don't fight it, kid... please don't fight it..." he murmured into his boy's ear, leaning his forehead up against the side of his baby brother's head, trying to soothe him even as he was trying to knock him out. "Just breathe it in, Racer... I promise it'll be okay..." He had Race's head back against his shoulder as the boy still tried to fight him off.

It was a long while before Race obeyed, only because he couldn't fight it any longer. The child moaned as his legs gave out on him. He blinked wildly, desperate to keep his eyes open, only for them to roll back into his head as he lost consciousness. Jack sighed in relief and let the weight of the boy pull them both to the ground. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Jack kept muttering, pulling the boy into his lap and removing the cloth from his face, pocketing it and letting himself breath for a moment as he relentlessly apologized to the boy who couldn't hear him.

The boy was now a dead weight on his lap in the middle of the living room. Jack breathed hard, cradling his brother to him and slowly smoothing the hair away from his face as he held tightly to the kid, finally giving into the fear that was only growing inside him. As he pressed a loving kiss to his brother's forehead, his eyes drifted to a picture sitting on the table right next to the couch.

They all looked so happy. Him, his boys who were so much younger, and the man that had his arms around them. His brown hair ended in loose curls that fell just above his eyes; his bright blue eyes stood out above all else. Jack shook his head and let the tears begin falling as he couldn't take his eyes off of the stupid photo. "I'm so sorry..." he muttered, burying his face in his baby brother hair.

For a moment, Jack just rocked his brother back and forth in his arms. He was still here. This could all be okay.

The vibrating of the man's cell phone made him jump a little. He sniffled and swallowed, clearing his throat before he answered the thing. "Kelly," he said as he slid the call open. "Yeah, I got him... I had ta use the chloroform..." he admitted, looking back down at the boy's peaceful face. The kid hadn't looked so sound since... ever. "Look, I don't need a lecture right now..." his voice shook at that as he lay Race down even lower and ran a hand through the kid's hair. "I's gonna bring him in... I'll be there soon." And with that he hung up the phone.

As gently as he could, Jack scooped Race up in his arms and lay him out on the couch, rushing to go change into sweats and a t-shirt before going back into the main room and once again cradling the boy to his chest. "It'll be okay, kiddo... I promise, it'll be okay..."

And boy, did he hope it would be.

It was the first time I had ever really written Jack and Race truly at odds, almost like they’re on different sides and no one knew what Jack was doing. I love that Jack is trying to calm Race down even as he’s drugging him and how Race is thinking that he can talk sense into Jack and make him “wake up” in a sense. I think this might’ve been the first time I’d had Race truly be afraid of Jack.

It was an interesting one to write.

Thank you for asking!

[syntaxeme]

One Good Turn ch. 3

[Read on AO3] | [First Chapter] | [Next Chapter] Rating: T Story summary: Angel’s clean streak is broken when Val forcibly calls him back to the studio. On principle (and not at all out of concern for Angel's wellbeing), Alastor takes it upon himself to free Angel from Valentino's control. But what started as a simple favor becomes something much more complicated, all because of an innocent thank-you kiss.

— — – 

Some part of Alastor knew it wasn’t entirely fair to judge a person—or a demon, as the case may be—by the company he keeps. That is, the fact that Valentino chose to associate with that tasteless hack Vox did not necessarily mean that he too was uncultured vermin. It was damning, certainly, but not definitive. This was a moot point, however, as there was already sufficient evidence to prove Valentino was trash, his friendship with Vox notwithstanding.

“It looks like after several months supposedly on the straight and narrow, adult film star and well-known coke whore Angel Dust has finally fallen completely off the wagon!” Katie Killjoy’s aggressively cheerful voice blared from the television set up in the hotel’s lobby, where all the hotel’s residents had gathered for news of their missing compatriot. Alastor could just imagine that vicious smile plastered on her face as she commentated over a video of Angel in a darkened club drinking himself to sickness, Angel doing lines and laughing coldly as a demon at his side passed out, Angel knelt in the darkened interior of a limousine and flipping off paparazzi while Valentino held him close with a ubiquitous grin.

Valentino was a common factor in all these scenarios, in fact, whether pouring liquor down Angel’s throat, handing him off to a…client, or simply watching in amusement while he drowned himself in sin. It had been three weeks, nearly four, since that limo had arrived and whisked Angel back to his old life of leisure and pleasure, and it seemed clear that Valentino was intent on keeping him there. Perhaps all the drugs and alcohol were meant to keep him compliant. And it seemed to be working a treat.

“It just goes to show that every soul here in Hell is here for a reason,” the reporter went on, “and that no misguided attempts at redeeming them will ever bear fruit. Looking at you, Princess Charlotte!”

Charlie’s eyes were locked on the TV, both hands covering her mouth, and Alastor could see tears starting to well in her eyes. Vaggie tried to console her, but she simply shut her eyes tight and dropped her head, withdrawing into herself rather than showing all the pain she must be feeling. That was a smart move, strategic, but not at all aligned with her personality.

“Damn it, Angel was here longer than any of us,” one of the other patrons complained loudly. “If he couldn’t hack it, what chance do the rest of us have?”

“Oh, come now, my good fellow, that’s hardly the spirit of self-improvement we strive for here at the Hazbin,” Alastor crowed, waltzing over to drape his arm over the pessimistic demon’s shoulders. “Have some confidence! Have some fortitude! Why, I assure you no one is more distraught over our dear friend Angel’s defection than I, but I refuse to allow my melancholy to keep me from progressing toward—”

“Alastor, will you just…save it?” Charlie barked, surprising everyone in the room into silence (other than the television, unfortunately). She looked up at him with a tearful snarl, fingers curling into helpless claws. “I know you don’t care about any of this, I know you think of it as a joke, but losing Angel isn’t something to laugh about. He was doing so well. I really thought he…” She took a deep, shuddering breath and shut her eyes. “I feel stupid enough already. You don’t have to rub it in.” She left the room with her head down, and as usual, the others followed her lead, dispersing to their respective rooms and leaving Alastor alone with 666 News’s mocking jingle.

Well. That certainly hadn’t gone to plan. If Charlie thought he was intentionally digging at her for Angel’s unfortunate regression, she was sorely mistaken. Much to his own surprise, he truly was quite bothered by Angel’s absence, either because he disliked the hotel’s naysayers having any further ammunition against them or because none of their other patrons had such a defined and entertaining personality. He also didn’t much care for the knowledge that the very independent and unfettered Angel Dust was evidently being toted about like a marionette, with Valentino holding the strings.

With some reluctance, Vaggie had shared with him the stories Angel had told of his relationship with Val. There was no secret in the fact that Valentino used him for sex and money, no pretense of fair play or equality between them. It was with far more trepidation that Angel admitted exactly how imbalanced in power they were, how insistent Valentino could be on controlling his every move. And if he disobeyed, if he rebelled, if he refused any order, the Overlord wouldn’t hesitate to ‘lay down the law.’ Alastor could only guess, based on how frightened Angel had seemed when they’d last seen each other, exactly what that implied.

He had since done some further research on exactly who Valentino was and what function he served in Hell. How many associates he had. Who might seek revenge if some unfortunate accident were to befall him. That was, of course, how his association with Vox had become clear, which complicated matters a bit more. Slaughtering one Overlord for the sake of bringing Angel back into the fold and restoring his autonomy was one thing; Alastor had killed people for less. Murdering an Overlord to whom Vox had some ostensible connection was another entirely. Was Alastor willing to risk a genuine threat for the sake of this farce, this naïve, hellish sitcom Charlie was staging?

Difficult to say.

…

Later in the evening, while Alastor sat awake in bed contemplating his options, a faint scratching from downstairs caught his ear. It was unlikely any of the others would hear it, but being so attuned to the sounds of his surroundings as he was, it didn’t escape his notice. He sat a few moments longer, wondering if it might be another drunken imp crawling home after a few shots too many. But the sound persisted, a scratch scratch scratch, as if of claws scraping the front door’s flawless enamel.

With a sigh, he slipped through the shadows and down the stairs to open the door, shocked to find a disheveled Angel Dust collapsed on the doorstep. Or maybe ‘disheveled’ was too mild a word. His face was bruised and smudged with blood, his torn clothing even more revealing than usual, his breathing shallow as if every inhale caused him further pain. To be plain, he looked rather like shit. And his condition was utterly fascinating.

“Angel?” Alastor knelt to observe him more closely: his hazy eyes, the blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, the way his hand still absently scrabbled toward the door. He almost seemed unaware that he was no longer alone. When Alastor rested a hand on his shoulder, he flinched away.

“No!” he said weakly. “No, I’ll be…I’ll…” He blinked quickly, trying to clear his vision, and the fear on his face faded into confusion. “Alastor?”

“That is my name; don’t wear it out,” Alastor chuckled, unsure of how to approach this situation with anything other than his usual nonchalance. “Are you all right? I’ll be honest: you aren’t looking your best.”

“Yeah, thanks, jackass,” Angel grumbled, struggling to push himself up, all four arms shaking under his slight weight.

“May I ask what happened?” He was terribly curious. It must have something to do with Valentino, but what? It was clear Angel had been beaten, but by whom?

“Doesn’t matter. Just help me get to my room, will ya?”

Alastor remained exactly where he was, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, are you back to stay? Is this a pattern you’re developing, spending some time ‘clean’ before relapsing and leaving us without a word for months or longer? A classic cycle for addicts, I’m told.” If Valentino had truly been holding him against his will, these accusations would hardly be fair, but Alastor got the feeling that wasn’t exactly what had happened.

“Fine, don’t help me then.” Angel managed to force himself to his feet—which were bare—and clung to the door to take one shaking step inside. As he tried to take another, he wavered and collapsed. By reflex, Alastor moved to support him. But Angel surprised him by shoving away, so roughly that he threw himself to the ground.

“Keep your fuckin’ hands off me!” he shouted, leaving the lobby in charged silence thereafter. Despite the unexpected reaction, or maybe because of it, Alastor’s smile widened slightly at the edges. He did enjoy a good surprise, if he was honest, and it was interesting to imagine what might have happened to make Angel of all people averse to being touched. After a moment of stillness, the tension melted from Angel’s body, and he lowered his head slowly. “Sorry. I ain’t had the best luck with men lately.”

Oh, do I fall under that category? “Think nothing of it. Though it’ll be harder to help you upstairs if you don’t want me touching you.”

“It’s fine. Just don’t get fuckin’ handsy,” Angel muttered, holding out one hand and allowing Alastor to take it to help him up.

“I’m sure you know already that I wouldn’t dream of it.” Again, he laughed, helping Angel slowly and cumbersomely across the lobby to enter the elevator.

“Ya know, for once, I appreciate that about you.” Angel had chosen a room at the very top of the hotel on his initial arrival, determined to be as far from the others as possible, citing ‘beauty rest’ and ‘mind your business’ as his reasoning. Regardless of his absence, Niffty had still included the room in her usual cleaning schedule, possibly in the hopes that he would be back. When they reached room 723 and he managed to locate his key, he swung the door open to a room decorated in shades of pink rather like Angel himself. While he stumbled inside to seat himself on the bed and let out a sigh of relief, Alastor lingered in the doorway, his curiosity unsatisfied.

“Where have you been?” he asked, making a conscious effort at sincerity in his tone.

“Ain’t you been watchin’ the news?” Angel scoffed. “I been everywhere. Didn’t even fuckin’ know half the time, Val kept me so—” He stopped himself, wrapping his arms around his lengthy body and staring down at his lap. “I bet Charlie’s pissed.”

“Now, I’m sure you know her better than that.”

“Yeah. But ‘disappointed’ is even worse. I didn’t want…” He shook his head in frustration. “It’s Val. I can’t think straight when he’s around. He gets in your head, y’know?”

“In your head, maybe,” Alastor agreed. “Yes, that’s how it seems.”

“You wanna talk about ‘cycles’? You wanna talk about ‘patterns’? It’s him. It’s always fuckin’ him.” Even with his mouth set in a furious sneer, a tear streaked down his face, and he quickly brushed it away. “He’s been real careful about keepin’ his eye on me this time. Keepin’ me happy or strung-out or shitfaced enough that I can’t argue with him. Guess he slipped up tonight.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Alastor stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him, then went to lean against the wall opposite Angel and watch him closely. It almost sounded as if he wanted to talk about what he’d just gone through at Valentino’s hands, and if that was the case, Alastor was happy to listen. “What happened tonight?” he prompted. “If Valentino has made such an effort to keep you under control, how did you come to be back here at the hotel?”

“Luck, maybe? I mean, if you can call it lucky to get the shit kicked outta you,” Angel said with a mirthless laugh. His eyes lingered on Alastor, studying him as if trying to guess what ulterior motives he might have for staying in the room. “I dunno. Val had some business to take care of tonight. The kinda business he doesn’t like me gettin’ involved in. So he…loaned me out to a buddy of his. Vox. He—”

Angel’s tale cut off with a cringe as the usual ambient buzzing about Alastor’s person jumped into a harsh screech of static. His sharp smile stayed fixed as firmly as ever, his eyes wide as he tried to process this new information. He hadn’t realized that Vox was personally involved in all this, but the knowledge muddied his feelings on the entire subject somewhat. Where was all this anger coming from, he wondered? Was it the idea of Vox enjoying anything that he so resented? Was it the concept of Angel Dust being passed around between Overlords without any say in the matter? Maybe it was the thought that he was somehow enabling Vox to take advantage of Angel by not confronting Valentino sooner.

Very difficult to say.

After several seconds of tension, he managed to subdue the scratch and static back to its typical lingering presence. “I’m sorry, please continue,” he said pleasantly. “You’ve been…involved with Vox, then?”

“Sorta.” Angel was still watching him warily, like he expected another sudden outburst at any moment. “You know him?”

“We’re acquainted.” Another brief crackle of static. “We’re of different minds on a few issues. I didn’t know he was a part of Valentino’s business.”

“He’s not exactly. Doesn’t like gettin’ his hands dirty; he just likes to watch,” Angel explained. Yes, that fit the understanding of Vox’s character that Alastor had developed over the years. Always watching, observing, storing information for later use. Parasite. “It’s not like anything was different this time. It’s how he always is. Him and his guys. Usually four or five of ‘em. But I guess he didn’t like Val’s plan to keep me drugged and drunk all the time. What’s the point if I don’t scream, right?” His voice had turned hard, cold, and his clawed fingers dug into the bedspread beneath him.

Realizing that this topic had become an unpleasant one for both of them, Alastor began, “Angel, if you’d rather not—”

“Oh no, you started this,” Angel snapped back, shooting him a glare. “You wanted to know. The least you can do is let me finish.” He was right, of course. Alastor inclined his head and gestured for Angel to go on. “Anyway, those demons that work for him ain’t really the gentle type. And I was comin’ down from like, three different highs at once, so I already felt like garbage before they got their hands on me. Guess I complained one time too many.” He absently reached up to touch the bruise on his cheekbone, wincing slightly at the pressure.

“Once they were done with me, once Vox looked the other way, I snuck out. I got a cab, but I didn’t have any cash on me, so…” He shrugged, leaving it up to Alastor’s imagination as to how he paid for the ride. This may have been the first time he’d seen Angel so blasé toward—even uncomfortable with—the subject of sex. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. Don’t worry, Val’s probably gonna send one of his guys to pick me up once he realizes I’m gone, so I won’t be here causin’ trouble for long.”

Alastor pushed off the wall and strode over to the bed to stand in front of Angel. Recalling how badly he had responded to being touched earlier, he made sure to move slowly and carefully as he trailed his fingertips up the edge of Angel’s chin to make him look up. “Is that what you want? To go back to Valentino?”

“Wh-what?” Angel was apparently having difficulty following the turn this conversation had just taken, his face flushed as he stared up at the Radio Demon with wide eyes.

“Do you want to go back to him?” Alastor repeated, absently licking the pad of his thumb to wipe the dried blood away from the corner of Angel’s mouth. Such a waste. Angel started to lean into the touch, but it ended before he could do so. “If and when he sends an escort to retrieve you, do you plan to cooperate?”

“What else am I gonna do?” Shaking his head, leaning back slightly, Angel pointed out, “You don’t know what he’s like, Al. He doesn’t like bein’ told ‘no,’ and he doesn’t like lettin’ go of shit that belongs to him. I ain’t got much choice.”

“Just humor me for a moment and suppose that you do,” Alastor insisted, gesturing airily as he spoke. “Suppose you had the option to either go back to his studio and live a relatively comfortable and indulgent life with few personal freedoms or stay here, focus on your rehabilitation, and work with us to support the hotel’s efforts. Which would you prefer?”

The answer was almost immediate. “If there was a way for me to not be Val’s little fuckin’ boy toy anymore, sure, I’d take it in a heartbeat.”

Alastor’s smile widened considerably. “That is exactly what I was hoping to hear. And as co-manager of the hotel, it’s my duty to eliminate any and all obstacles to our patrons’ recovery, is it not? Consider your account with Valentino settled, my friend, and try to get some rest. We’ll be expecting you back in sessions tomorrow.”

“Wait. Wait a minute!” Angel grabbed his wrist as he started to leave, and although he wrenched away from the touch, he did pause. “What’re you sayin’? You’re not gonna go after him, are ya?”

“I plan to have a conversation with him,” Alastor said honestly. “I’m hoping he’s a reasonable fellow and will understand the situation without the need for things to get messy. If he doesn’t, however…” The room darkened slightly, highlighting the glow of his eyes. “I̶ ̢w̸i̷l͡l m͞ak̸e ͘h͜i͏m ͝uǹd҉e̶rst҉an͠d.”

“Don’t.” Angel was visibly unnerved by seeing his cheerful demeanor slip, but it didn’t stop him from protesting. “Seriously. I know you’re supposed to be this big powerful Overlord and all, but Val is no joke. Whatever you think you’re gonna get out of threatening him—”

“Are you trying to protect him?”

“No. I’m tryin’ to protect—” He ran a hand through his hair with an irritated groan. “It’s not worth it. I’m sayin’ if he’s pissed at me, I should be the one dealing with it. I don’t want you or Charlie or anybody here to get hurt cuz of my personal bullshit.” As the words were coming out of his mouth, he seemed to slowly realize what he was saying, just as Alastor did the same.

“Why Angel Dust,” the Radio Demon purred, surprised but delighted. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that sounded very much like the virtue of Kindness. Maybe even Humility. You might be closer to redemption than I thought.” What an interesting development!

“Oh, shut the hell up!” Angel hissed, flushing even darker now and grabbing a heart-shaped throw pillow from the bed to toss it at Alastor. “Get outta my room, you dick.”

“Hmm, and just when we were starting to get along.” He dodged another pillow and swept out of the room, stealing one last glance at the blush on Angel’s cheeks before pulling the door shut behind him. As much as he appreciated the sentiment, he planned to ignore the advice not to approach Valentino.

It’s not worth it, Angel had said. I’m not worth it, was what he meant. That was likely another lingering effect of Valentino’s influence, one he would be better off without. Beyond that, Alastor had already said that he would take care of the problem, and he had a firm policy against the breaking of promises.

[charliekeeting]

alternatively, three moments of clarity and one moment of heartbreak.                                                  [ feat. @royisms ]

“you can call me charles”

it’s a late night at the office and there’s an early morning the next day. both charlie and amanda know this, but it never stopped them from staying up late, and it doesn’t tonight. with both of them living such busy lives - charlie a newly elected government official and amanda running a successful campaign herself, the pair found every moment they could. sometimes, it was 3am between a bottle of red wine and some green.

charlie pulls themselves off their fire escape, extinguishing the remainder of the joint.

i once set off every smoke alarm in this building, they told her earlier when she watched them climb out the fire escape and light a joint for the first time. i’m not letting that happen again. and although he most certainly did in the coming months, that night, charlie wandered back in without having to deal with the fire department.

midnight conversations about shit neither of them understood were common. about god and science, about skeptics and supernatural, about the fear of the unknown. one might have argued they were too optimistic for their own good sometimes, but charlie enjoyed the late nights and early mornings with amanda, where they could fall asleep with her in their arms, their tall body wrapped around her small frame.

charlie barely remembers it, but in the back of his memory sits a piece of a conversation they’ve had only had with a handful of other people.

“you can call me charles, you know that right?” they whisper, eyes fluttered closed. “i don’t use it in the house because people are assholes.” their words begin to slow slightly, as if the speed was being turned down. “but i like the name. it’s why i never changed it fully. i just don’t like giving those dickheads power over me. but you can call me charles… if you want.”

“the breakup”

they are never at a loss for words. of all the public speaking and here they are, sitting on the kitchen counter, fumbling over syllables. they wonder if she notices. they wonder if she can tell every time they sit on a counter now they think of him. it’s an idle distraction - although not completely harmless - for the moment. for some reason, knowing what they’ve planned to do tonight has taken charlie’s brain through the ringer. they wrote something down and scrapped it a hundred times and how exactly do you break up with someone who’s perfect for you but the timing just isn’t right?

they near spill the words out of their mouths at the same time, and it takes charlie a second to process what’s happening, but they laugh about it after… a long time after. at first charlie is sad about the fact that they both thought there was too much going on to keep the other in their life. something about that fact makes it all the more painful.

“just friends”

tequila before a what’s sure to be a shitty week in the house is common at this point, but tonight, there was something else behind the drinks.

after rekindling their friendship, charlie and amanda find themselves stumbling out of the one bar that’s open past two am, holding onto each other. charlie’s probably more drunk than amanda, or at least, he believes that’s the case. his tall, lithe frame is teetering on his heels. his hands hold her body for balance even though she is much smaller than they are. still, there’s no denying they’re both out of it. she runs ahead for a moment, and charlie nearly topples over before they catch their balance. they watch her spin in front of them and charlie smiles, admires the way her body moves again, hopes they aren’t crossing a line with their eyes. they show off the new piercing sitting in their left ear. charlie asks if maybe next they should get a belly button piercing and their laughter elicits a couple of grumbled groans from annoyed neighbors.

the taxi ride back to amanda’s was something charlie didn’t realize they were waiting for. the stories are familiar until amanda whispers “you know, you were some of the best kisses i’ve ever had.” and charlie smiles and says thank you and part of him wishes she had said something more.

and as if god herself heard charlie’s prayer, he feels amanda’s breath fall out ever so gently…. “do it again?”

they barely make it into amanda’s apartment before charlie’s hands move to amanda’s waist, holding her as if letting her go again would be the worst decision in the world. their bodies intertwine again, and this isn’t the first time, but god, charlie knows this is the worst.

she says “we can call this closure right?”

he can’t help but think, no. i can’t. they don’t say that out loud.

“at your door”

that hot july night, amanda shows up unexpected.

charlie’s glasses sit on the bridge of their nose, hair tied in a messy top knot. they move their papers aside to get up off the floor when the doorbell rings and their eyebrows twist together for a moment as they look through the peephole in their door, not sure who would be stopping by tonight. like second nature, charlie slides open the deadbolt and the door as soon as he sees who’s on the other side. before it’s even is fully open, charlie’s immediately asking questions. what’s up? is something wrong? are you okay? what happened? the words stumble out of their mouth quickly only because he doesn’t know why she’s here.

she doesn’t answer with her words.

it takes all of thirty seconds before amanda’s shoes have been popped off in the entryway and charlie is carrying her into the bedroom, lips tangled into each other. their paint-covered tank top is thrown across the room, amanda’s skirt is on the ground and all of a sudden their bodies hit charlie’s mattress before the world stops for a split-second. their eyes meet. charlie’s brown pupils and her green ones find each other in a moment between heatwaves. they don’t need to ask if she’s okay - deep down, they know the answer. they know that amanda probably needs their warm body tonight and nothing else. but something about this split second between them changes things. as if their eyes tell each other stories neither understands. their lips move down to amanda’s slowly, softly. charlie knows what his kiss means, what it really means.

i love you so much. 
i want you. 
i need you. 
i miss you.

please come back to me.

they don’t say any of those things, but confusion compounds when she kisses back softly, as if the unspoken dialogue between them is a cracked cypher code. as if maybe she gets it.

that night is different than any other they’ve spent together. for the first time, charlie takes control in a way they never have with her. amanda has always been the one to instigate, to lead, to show charlie exactly how they want to be loved. but this time, the movements between them are soft, gentle, as if neither wants to break the other’s already broken pieces. charlie handles her with care that night. it’s the first time they don’t just fuck each other, the first time they touch each other in a way that cuts deeper than the nails on each other’s backs. this time it is raw, and honest, and more than just good sex.

the next morning, charlie wakes up before she does, feels their long hair falling out of the elastic wrapped around their brunette locks and walks over to the washroom. the small task of redoing their hair breaks them that morning. they feel their eyes well up ever so slightly, throat tightening around the truth sitting in their lungs as they stare at their face in the mirror, blurry without glasses. they know that despite what last night may have seemed like, charlie isn’t an idiot, and neither is amanda. he knows when the universe just makes things work and he knows that is very different from when amanda doesn’t call him for months on end only to show up at his door and immediately press their lips together. he knows that he is nothing more than her safety net - a home when the wind breaks walls.

it doesn’t stop them, though. it never has. they splash their face with water and pretend they weren’t just a mild mess in the bathroom, picking up their glasses from the floor where they had fallen the night before and move back into the bedroom, stopping in the doorframe to look at amanda’s sleeping frame, smiling tragically at the blonde - as if maybe they could stay in this moment forever.

she shifts and wakes up. charlie catches her movement through the lens of his horn rimmed glasses. his vision is clear now, but it’s tainted pink today. she looks over at him and he smiles back before crawling back into bed with her. their lips pressing together again, soft and gentle, a good morning charlie didn’t ask for.

that’s when charlie knows he’s fucked.

[krreader]

unexpected.

pairing: kim namjoon x foreign zoo keeper!reader fandom: bts warnings: / genre: fluff

summary: the one time he’s in another country and gets a few days off, he meets someone like you.. how lucky could he get?

a/n: such a cute request!!!! I hope you like it @mary-the-wise ♥

ask box | masterlists | faq | twitter | ko-fi | REQUESTS ARE CLOSED.

Sometimes it was almost sad how little Namjoon got to see, despite traveling so much.

He flew from city to city, country to country, continent to continent with his band members, yet sometimes it was only for a day, maybe two and that was not nearly enough time to do everything he wanted to do and see everything he wanted to see, especially because he was mainly there to work.

However, this time, they got lucky.

Due to scheduling, they'd be staying for a week, despite only having two concerts.

And Namjoon wanted to make good use of that week.

He didn't waste a single second. The day they landed it was only 9AM, the managers telling them that they'd have the day for themselves, but they'd all have to be at the arena later that day for practice.

The crew was setting everything up all day long, that's probably why they had the day off.

And as it usually was, the group split on these days.

Sometimes it was everyone together, but most of the times they split up because all of them wanted to do something different.

Yoongi stayed in the hotel, ready to get some proper sleep in a proper bed.

Taehyung and Jin went out to eat and then go swimming with some managers.

Jimin and Hoseok decided to stay behind and brainstorm some new choreographies – which actually just meant the two of them sitting in bed and watching YouTube, laughing about funny videos. But that's how it needed to be every once in a while.

And Jeongguk kept it simple and went shopping with his manager.

Namjoon, on the other end, decided to take a trip to the local zoo, his manager and a security guard in tow.

Usually he'd visit all the important sightseeing spots first, but his manager had told him that today there'd be a special show with two baby tigers and that Namjoon would be allowed to pet them and take pictures if he wanted to.

And Namjoon definitely wanted to take pictures with cute baby tigers.

The show, however, he didn't see much of.

Whoever was doing it must have been doing a good job, because there were so many people here that Namjoon did not even get a glimpse of the baby tigers.

He would have been disappointed if he hadn’t known that he'd be allowed to see them privately afterwards.

After the show was over, Namjoon followed his manager, leading him to the private compound that the tigers had.

And that's when he saw you for the first time.

“Ah, my boss told me someone famous was coming today,” you quickly got up from the ground and desperately tried to get the dirt off of your hands, “Sorry. You'd be surprised how much of a mess these two could make, despite their size.”

His manager and the security guard shook your hand without caring about possible dirt, but Namjoon just stared at you with wide eyes and an open mouth like he wasn’t so keen on getting whatever was on your hands on his.

Or at least that’s what you thought this was about..

His manager had to nudge his side for Namjoon to finally shake his head and extend his hand with an awkward laugh.

“I'm Namjoon.”

“Nice to meet you, Namjoon. I'm (Y/N). And these two are Charlie and Sophie,” you smiled at the two baby tigers that were rolling around with each other on the ground, “As you can see, they really like each other.. sometimes, at least.”

“Charlie and Sophie? Those are.. quite normal names for tigers,” Namjoon chuckled.

“You're right. If it had been up to me I would have given them different names, but they fit rather well actually,” you lead them to the tigers, the three of them following only hesitantly though. You chuckled when you noticed, “You don't have to be scared. Trust me when I say that we've never had more well behaved babies than these two.”

“I'm sure that's because of you?” Namjoon began fidgeting with his hands, trying his hardest to give you a compliment without sounding like a creep.

Something his manager and security guard noticed and had to bite their tongues to stop themselves from laughing at how nervous and flustered he was around you.

Kim Namjoon, the man that girls were usually crying over when they saw him, was standing in front of a girl that was so completely unaffected by his presence that he returned to that 16-year old boy he once was, nervous and unsure of everything.

“Aw, thank you,” you grinned, picking Sophie up with a big smile, “You can pet her if you want.”

“Are.. are you sure? Is that really safe?”

“Yes,” you smiled, Sophie cuddling against you like the sweet tiger that she was.

But Namjoon was still hesitant. He reached out and was almost touching her, but then Sophie turned her head so fast that Namjoon almost fell to the ground if it weren't for his security guard catching him.

You started to laugh and shake your head, “It's okay, you really don't have to be scared. Do one of you want to try first, maybe?”

The security guard and manager were surprised. Usually it was always just about the artists and never about them, but they couldn't help but be curious about what a baby tiger might feel like.

So they were really enthusiastic about it, Sophie clearly enjoying all the attention that she got from so many people. 

And because her twin brother didn't like not being given as much attention as his sister, he decided to go to the only person that wasn't occupied with Sophie.

“Would you look at that,” you chuckled as Charlie approached Namjoon, “You have a new fan, it seems.”

“Hello.. Charlie,” Namjoon waved at him, but Charlie nudged his leg with his nose, wanting to be petted, if not carried around like his sister.

“Go on.. it's okay, really,” you said with a smile and gave Namjoon an encouraging nod.

It took him about two minutes before he had the courage to kneel down and do just that, but the look on his face when he finally did? God, it was one thing you so loved about this job.. the look on people’s faces when they petted these exotic animals for the first time.. it was always amazing.

You ended up letting Sophie back down who immediately joined her brother.

And then Namjoon was petting the two like he had never done anything else in his life before.

His manager was taking one picture after the other, it was literally a photoshoot in here while you and the security guard just watched with a smile.

Namjoon was in his own little world, even ended up playing with the tigers when you showed him how.

But.. while it was easy to get distracted by such cute tigers, he couldn't help but keep looking at you every once in a while and stare...

Every time you smiled, he did too. Every time you laughed, he joined in.

He was happy in your presence, he loved watching you work with the tigers and he just genuinely enjoyed your company.

He was at ease.. and that rarely happened when he was in the company of ‘strangers’.

So much that it was no surprise that when he had to leave again, he ended up asking - or tried to ask: “Hey, so this might be a little weird because you don't know me and we've actually just met because I wanted to see the tigers, but I ended up really enjoying it here, not just because of the tigers but because of you and well..-” he started rambling, you furrowing your eyebrows, not fully understanding what he was trying to say.

But his manager, despite knowing the policies of BigHit, ended up asking: “Would you like to come to the concert tomorrow? I'd give you a VIP ticket so that you could see Namjoon again.”

Bang would simply not find out about it, but the manager liked you a lot. You were a kind girl, not many would have let him pet the baby tiger. So he was thankful. And he wanted to give something back..

..especially because he could tell how much Namjoon liked you.

“Oh.. wow.. really?” you smiled from ear to ear, “Usually the celebrities that come here are never this nice or generous. Thank you very much, I'd be honored!”

“And maybe..,” Namjoon started, fidgeting with his hands again, “We could have dinner afterwards?”

It was only then that you realized he had tried asking you out before.

And that surprised you because why the hell would someone like him would want to go out with someone like you?

Should you ask?

No, probably not, that would only complicate it.

This was a once in a lifetime chance, you should just..-

“I'd love to,” you settled for with a grin, “But.. if you have time again this week, you should definitely stop by here again. I think the two of them really like you.”

Namjoon beamed, nodded with excitement and then ended up leaving, even if reluctantly.

He would have loved to spend more time with you, but he managed to score a date.. which would probably not lead to anything, because you lived here and he lived in Korea, but.. he wanted to see you again..

..and who knows..

..long-distance-relationships were always an option if it ever came to that.

But for now, he was just excited to see you again tomorrow.. and the day after..

And literally every single day until he had to leave, because you two could not get enough of each other.

Or.. let’s blame it on the baby tigers that Namjoon had to see.. daily.

[redrikki]

2019 In Review

In 2019, I wrote 30 stories in 13 fandoms. Here's a breakdown by month. January Parting Strands She-Ra and the Princesses of Power Looking out for each other had been their thing, but Adora's starting to suspect that's over. Her thoughts during that scene in "Promise." (Adora, Catra) February Second Wind Star Wars Ahsoka takes the wrong exit from the world between worlds and ends up with a second chance to save her master. (Ahsoka Tano, Shmi Skywalker) A Modest Proposal Agent Carter The mess with Vernon Masters has left Daniel's office short staffed, but he has some replacements in mind. (Daniel Sousa/Peggy Carter, Edwin Jervis) Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree Agent Carter Three people who thought Peggy Carter and Edwin Jervis were having an affair and one who knew better (Peggy Carter, Edwin Jervis/Ana Jervis, Angie Martinelli, Jack Thompson, Daniel Sousa) For Amidala Star Wars Her handmaidens had all poured so much of themselves into Amidala, it was like they were part of her now. Padmé didn't know if she had the strength to let one go. (Padmé Amidala/Naboo handmaidens) Comic Book Life Black Lightning (TV) Comic book Thunder's boyfriend knew what his woman did, so why couldn't Anissa tell her girlfriend? (Anissa Pierce/Grace Choi) After the Funeral Star Wars Han offers Luke some unexpected support after the funeral of the guy who tortured him. (Luke Skywalker, Han Solo) March Bursts of Stardust III Star Wars A collection of seven short stories from tumblr. (Anakin Skywalker/Padmé Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ahsoka Tano, Sheev Palpatine, Jedi) April Peanut Butter and Marshmallows Umbrella Academy (TV) Stuck in the apocalypse, Five reads about Vanya leaving him sandwiches. (Five Hargreeves, Dolores) May Heroes for Ghosts Umbrella Academy (TV) Eudora waits for Diego and things go very differently. (Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves, Eudora Patch, Hazel, Cha-Cha, Various ghosts) June Good Housekeeping Misfits (TV 2009) It’s been months since his mum kicked him out, but at least Nathan hasn’t sunk to sleeping under the flyover. He's got a good thing going at the community center and means to keep it. (Nathan Young) The Beast You Made of Me DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV) The Waverider's resident shapeshifters compare notes. (Mona Wu, Charlie) July Truth Will Out Black Lightning (TV) Three times Anissa thought about telling Grace and one time she did. (Anissa Pierce/Grace Choi, Lynn Stewart, Jennifer Pierce) Iconic Umbrella Academy (TV) When Vanya learns Klaus is gay from an article in a teen magazine, she's upset for more than a few reasons. (Vanya Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves) The One You'll Know By Batman (Comics) After losing his memory, Bruce asked Alfred not to tell him about his vigilante life, but he's beginning to think his butler left a few other things out. Like, say, his kids. (Bruce Wayne, Lucius Fox, Duke Thomas, Alfred Pennyworth, Damian Wayne) August Feed Your Head Umbrella Academy (TV) Three shitty things young Klaus did for drugs and one thing they did for him. (Klaus Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves, Grace Hargreeves) September One Last Kiss (The Final Storm Remix) Agent Carter (TV) You never forget your first kiss with your nemesis. Dottie won't forget her last either. At Howard Stark's funeral, she puts a few things in the ground. (Dottie Underwood/Peggy Carter) Playing With Fire (The Dubiously Consensual Remix) Avatar: The Last Airbender People don't tell Azula no. (Azula/Ty Lee) Neither Should You (The Real People Remix) DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV) Rescuing her clones was the right thing to do. They deserved the right to live their lives and make their own choices. Ava just wished they’d stop sleeping with Gary. (Ava Sharpe/Sara Lance, Ava clones/Gray Green) October It Lingers Stranger Things (TV) The Mind Flayer is gone, but El can still feel it clawing underneath her skin. (Eleven, Joyce Byers, Will Byers, Jonathan Byers) When Evil Rains Umbrella Academy (TV) A hostage situation goes sideways. (Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves) The Good Soldier She-Ra and the Princesses of Power On the sliding scale between perfect soldier Adora and useless malcontent Catra, Lonnie was closer to the Adora end of the spectrum. How the hell had Catra made Force Captain before her? Catra was just going crash and burn and Lonnie? Lonnie would let her. (Lonnie, Catra, Kyle, Rogelio, Scorpia) Seismic Shift The Broken Earth Series - N.K. Jemisin Schaffa tells himself he will stop if Eitz says no. This one will be allowed to say no. The boy says nothing at all. (Schaffa/Eitz) Trigger Warning: child sex abuse Date Night Stranger Things (TV) Everyone and her mother seems to think they're together and Robin's getting pretty sick of it. (Robin Buckley, Steve Harrington, The Party) Intrepid Reporter Miraculous Ladybug Alya won't let a little thing like danger stop her from reporting the truth. (Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Ladybug) Better Than Ice Cream Miraculous Ladybug Orange, mint, and raspberry could be a tasty combination. The solution to every love triangle should be polyamory, but sometimes it's just not that simple. Spoilers for Love-Eater. (Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Adrien Agreste, Kagami Tsurugi) November St. Athanase Day Miraculous Ladybug Adrien and Marinette's beret the second time around. She always forgets the card, but she still signs her work. (Adrien Agreste, Plagg) December No Sleep Til Hawkmoth Miraculous Ladybug An overly caffeinated epiphany helps narrow down Alya's search for Hawkmoth. (Alya Césaire, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Adrien Agreste, Chloé Bourgeois, Nino Lahiffe) One Last Leap Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse Telling his parents he's Spider-Man is a leap of faith Miles can't bring himself to take. (Miles Morales, Rio Morales, Jefferson Davis, May Parker) The (Non)Haunting of Nathan Young Misfits (TV) And to think he’d scoffed when Simon had tried to warn him. Everyone you love will die. What a laugh, right? Christ, he’s been such an idiot. (Nathan Young/Kelly Bailey)

[alice-beaumont-ravenclaw]

One Step Closer

A/N #1: 2000 words... Short fics are not my strong suit these days. Oh well. This is part 4 of my Celestial Ball series. The title and part of the story is inspired by this song. You can listen to it if you want to, but it won’t take away anything from the story if you don’t. (Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3)

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A few days after Charlie had asked her to the ball, Alice and her friends entered an empty classroom. Well, almost empty. In the middle of the room stood Merula and a boy Alice had seen when she had classes with Hufflepuff. Said boy walked toward them.

"Diego! Thank you so much for helping us with our dancing," exclaimed Penny as she saw the boy.

"No problem, Penny. It always makes Diego happy to help out a pretty lady," he said, kissing the back of her hand.

"Does he always talk about himself in the third person?" whispered Rowan.

"Most of the time, yes," whispered Tonks, rolling her eyes.

"Why is Merula here?" grumbled Alice, her jaw clenched.

"Because he asked me to be his dance partner since I'm a pretty good dancer. I'm sure you have two left feet, Beaumont," said Merula, snickering.

"Now, now, Merula. That attitude may work during a duel, but a dancer has to be full of grace, and it is not a very graceful attitude. If you're not nicer, Diego will find a new partner," said Diego, looking sternly at Merula, who nodded, rolling her eyes.

"Diego takes two things seriously: dancing and duelling," whispered Penny to her friends.

"Now," started Diego, looking at the small group in front of him, "choose a partner. Once this is done, we shall begin the lesson."

"Alice?" whispered Charlie, holding out his hand. "May I?"

"Hmm? Oh, sure!" replied Alice, taking Charlie's hand as she kept glaring at Merula.

Andre and Penny decided to team up, while Rowan quickly grabbed Bill's arm. Tulip and Tonks linked their arms together, leaving Ben and Barnaby to dance with each other.

"Well, that is unexpected, but we shall work with it," said Diego, looking at the last two couples as he took Merula's hand. "Ok, gentlemen, place your right hand on your partner's back and wrap your left hand around her right hand. Ladies, put your left hand on your partner's shoulder."

While the first three couples followed his instructions without any issues, the same-sex duos ended up in strange positions. Barnaby and Ben were holding each other's backs, while Tonks and Tulip were holding their shoulders.

"This is not how I remember waltzing," said Barnaby, looking confused.

"Ah! You have waltzed before! Good! But Diego sees he should adapt his vocabulary. Andre, Bill, Charlie, Barnaby, and Tulip shall be the leads, while the others shall be the follows. Ok? Ok," said Diego, staring at the last two couples. "So, Tulip and Barnaby, you place yourselves like the gentlemen over there, and Ben and Tonks, like the ladies."

"Why am I not the lead?" complained Tonks, pouting as she placed her hand in Tulip's hand.

"'Cause you're too clumsy to lead," pointed out Tulip, placing her right hand on Tonks' back.

"Ok, now, leads, move your left foot forward. Land softly to give the step an airy feel. Bend your left leg slightly, stepping on the ball of your foot. As the lead, you will always step forward and guide your partner," explained Diego as he demonstrated it with Merula.

For the next hour or so, he explained to the group of friends the basic steps of a waltz. Barnaby was very graceful in his dancing, very carefully leading Ben, who was nervously following along. Tonks and Tulip stopped listening to Diego at some point and started doing the hokey pokey. Rowan was staring at Bill the entire time they were dancing, making Bill feel self-conscious. Andre and Penny were the most talented, smoothly following Diego's demonstration, while gossiping at the same time.

On the other hand, Alice and Charlie were quite mechanical in their dancing, spending the entire time staring at their feet, doing each step one at a time. Merula snickered, observing them, making Alice lose her concentration. She glared at Merula, not paying attention to her steps, which led the couple to trip and fall on the ground. Merula burst out laughing.

"I see..." said Diego, observing Charlie helping Alice get up. "Very well. It is enough for today. Except for you two. Diego will give you extra lessons."

"Why? Except for the part where we fell, we followed the steps perfectly," said Alice, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, yes, but Mr. Weasley is too nervous, and you are too rigid. Dancing is so much more than a series of steps. Dancing... is a language that is felt instead of heard," tried to explain Diego.

"That sounds like a ton of..." mumbled Tulip, before being interrupted by Alice.

"Yeah, but don't we have to make sure that we won't bump into other couples?" asked Alice.

"Yes, but if you are in tune with your surroundings, it will happen naturally. Penny and Andre danced magnificently while gossiping about two students, and they didn't bump into anyone."

"Oh, can't wait to spend more time looking at Beaumont failing miserably," snickered Merula.

"No. You are clearly a distraction, and they need guidance more than a demonstration," waving away Merula, who pouted as she left.

"Good luck," said Penny and Andre as they left.

The other couples were deemed good enough by Diego, leaving him alone wit the two prefects as the others had left. He crossed his arms, observing them. Alice shifted her weight from one leg to the other, doing her best to ignore Diego's stare as she bit her lower lip. Charlie was nervously tapping his fingers together. Diego suddenly walked toward Alice, stopping right in front of her. She stared at him, nearly cross-eyed.

"You are rigid because you are afraid," said Diego.

"Pardon?" asked Alice, frowning.

"You are afraid of not leading. As the Curse-Breaker, you have always been the leader, having people rely on you and never the other way around. That is why you are rigid. This time, you have to trust your partner, you have to let him lead, let go of your insecurities," said Diego, before turning his attention to Charlie. "As for you, you have to be confident. How can she trust you if you do not trust yourself? Now, position, and... Practice!"

And so, they started practicing again, Diego stopping them every now and then to tell one to loosen their shoulders and the other to stop looking at their feet.

"Let him lead!"

"Stop looking at your feet!"

"Give and take!"

"You are the lead! Show it!"

"Trust him!"

"Back and forth!"

They kept practicing under the strict orders of Diego until it was dark outside.

"Diego, can we stop? We have homeworks to do," pleaded Alice.

"Yes, alright. It is getting better. You can go for now, but we shall practice after class during the week,".  said Diego, nodding.

"What? Why?" asked Charlie, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Because not only are you doing the first dance with the other prefects, but all eyes will be on the school's celebrity: the Curse-Breaker. If people see you dancing and then learn you took lessons with me, at the stage you are now, no one will believe Diego is a great dancer," explained Diego.

"I see," said Alice, rubbing her shoulder as she started leaving the empty classroom with Charlie.

"One more thing. Next time, you should look into each other's eyes," said Diego, staring at them as they nodded before leaving.

Thus, on Monday, after class, their lessons with Diego started again, with them now having to look into the other's eyes. Both of them were so embarrassed, they kept tripping and stepping on each other's toes.

"Diego! This idea of yours just makes it worse!" exclaimed Alice, rubbing her toes while Charlie apologized.

"No! It is perfect. Nobody wants to see dancers staring at their feet. Also, it will force you to rely on Charlie. As soon as you surrender, what's inside will sweep on through, and the boundaries between you two will disappear," exclaimed Diego. "Position!"

And they continued their dancing, with a few more tumbles and toe-stepping, until it was time for dinner. The next day, Diego observed a small improvement in the couple's dancing. Their facial expressions, though, were stiff, as if staring at one another made them uncomfortable.

"Why are you nervous looking at each other? Are you not friends?" asked Diego, scratching his head.

"Yes, but staring that much into someone else's face is strange," explained Alice as Charlie nodded.

"I see... Why don't you talk while dancing? Might help you look more natural," suggested Diego.

"Won't it distract us?" asked Alice.

"Perhaps, but it will help you understand that dance is like a conversation, except you actually never need to make a sound. Just let your emotion tell your body what to do."

They followed his instruction and started talking about their day and dragons as they danced. They were looking at each other smiling, laughing, relaxed. Their basic steps were much more fluid, and so Diego decided to add some advanced steps on the next day, making them move in circle as they did their basic waltz steps. On Thursday, he taught them how to do an underarm turn while waltzing. By Friday, Diego had them dancing along to some music, teaching them how to listen to the tempo of the music so that they could follow it when they danced.

"Once the music hits you, inhibitions fall away, and you'll find that you're expressing things your voice doesn't dare to say. Don't be afraid, just let go!" said Diego as he observed them dancing around the empty classroom.

Alice and Charlie kept dancing under Diego's watchful eye until he started clapping.

"Perfect! You look much more natural now. I am proud of you! You are ready for next week!" exclaimed Diego.

"Next week?" questioned Charlie, raising an eyebrow, his hand still on Alice's back.

"Oh! Did no one tell you? McGonagall is going to teach the prefects a small choreography to do at the beginning of the waltz. I shall assist her," explained Diego.

"Will this never end," complained Alice, her left hand hanging over Charlie's shoulder as she stared at Diego.

"Not until the actual ball, no. It is not because you don't need me anymore that you can just stop practicing. You have to keep at it. And you should think about practicing with heels eventually, Miss Beaumont," said Diego, looking down at Alice's shoes.

"Why?" asked Alice, looking down at her feet.

"You don't actually plan to wear those shoes with your dress, are you?" asked Diego, looking up at Alice with his eyebrows raised.

"My dress?" said Alice, frowning. "Oh! My dress! Merlin!" she exclaimed, looking in shock at Charlie.

"What? What is it?" asked Charlie, concerned.

"I don't have an outfit! How can I choose my shoes if I don't have an outfit! Andre. I need to speak with Andre. Goodnight!" she said, looking at Charlie as she started to head out of the classroom.

"Goodnight," replied Charlie with a smile before she closed the door behind her.

"You can thank me later," said Diego, looking at his fingernails.

"About the dance lessons? No need to wait, I'm really thankful," replied Charlie, scratching his temple.

"No, no, no. While I am pleased you appreciate my lessons, I meant that you can thank me in bringing you two closers," said Diego with a small smile raising the corner of his mouth.

"Closer? We were already close," replied Charlie, frowning.

"As friends, perhaps, but Miss Beaumont seems to keep her heart behind a wall. With the dancing, I feel she has opened herself a bit more to you. I feel that she will soon realize that she actually reciprocates your feelings for her," said Diego before leaving the classroom.

Charlie was left alone with his thoughts. Thinking about the week he had spent dancing with Alice, he couldn't help but think about what Diego had said. He could be right, Charlie thought to himself smiling as he left the classroom.

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A/N #2: I hope you enjoyed this fic. If you did feel free to leave a comment. This was inspired by the prompt “Dance” from @hphm-fictober 2019 prompts. Also, a small note about Diego. Now, when we are first introduced to him in DADA, he seemed like the cliché of the “Latin Lover”, and when Merula introduces us to him, the stereotype was somewhat reinforced. I decided to keep that side of Diego, but I think that behind that cliché, he’s very insightful, hence his conversation at the end with Charlie, and his explanation for Alice's stiffness while dancing.