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astranite · 1 year ago

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CH2 of Where was he? Pancakes.

Behold, a second chapter!! Thanks for everyones lovely comments and encouragement! I did not quite mean to stay up until midnight finishing this, but ADHD and I'm excited about this!! Enjoy!!!

@idontknowreallywhy yes im going to sleep now.

@edutainer2022 The rest of this, as you've already seen the first little bit!

Tumblr part 1 :)

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Instead of pulling away from his brothers and getting to work like drill sergeant at the back of his mind nagged that he should be doing, Scott sunk into the group hug. Just a while longer. He needed this.

"What do I do now? I don’t know what to do now," he asked, or rather mumbled into John's t-shirt where he'd smushed his face.

There. He'd admitted it even to himself. And his brothers.

His voice was small where he'd meant it to come out as a demand or at least a question, not a pitiful cry for help.

Gordon gripped him tighter and so did Alan, and Scott was already leaning into Virgil's enveloping embrace at his side and John's fingers were still in his hair.

He didn't actually know what to do with the mess he'd made of the kitchen or the unfinished pancake batter. The useless bowl of ingredients couldn't even be put back in their respective packets because he'd mixed them together because he hadn't thought further ahead than throwing them in. They were wasted.

The idea of sifting apart flour and sugar and the baking powder that was possibly in there until it was like nothing had ever happened buzzed in his brain. Every solution he could come up with to undo it all was summarily discarded as they were impractical, impossible or simply ridiculous. Life didn't work like that. You didn’t get a do over on your mistakes, and even if anyone could it certainly wouldn’t be him getting the chance.

But he didn't want to give up. What Scott wanted was to eat pancakes with his brothers, to get to laugh together without the pressing weight of the entire world on his shoulders.

Alright, at this point he would definitely prefer to jump out of One without a jetpack than face the kitchen, or y'know go cry in the shower. He had such great coping mechanisms.

Just it was easier to think in the middle of a crisis. The present moment swallowed up all the mistakes of the past as the only thing that mattered in the universe was the next several seconds in the now. Doubt didn't have time to eat him alive; there wasn't time for vegetables to go mouldy in the bottom of the fridge.

Maybe he'd dissolve into a puddle of suspicious goop too. Ugh, then someone would have to scrub the floor, which he'd be responsible for doing given it would be his fault if he liquified into hypothetical ooze.

Gordon interrupted his thoughts, sing-songing out his name, "Scott, Scotty, Scooter, what can we do to help?"

If he knew how they could help, that'd solve a lot of problems.

Scott shrugged. Caring too much left him in the same place on the outside as caring too little.

His brain steamrollered over Gordon's clarification of whether Scott wanted suggestions for what they could do.

The batter needed to be finished except that needed the eggs and other whatever it was that they didn't have, the fridge stuff needed to be dealt with by putting it in a place that wasn't the fridge, but those containers would have to be cleaned—

When A plus B equals C, you've still got to work out what bloody A is to find C.

"None of you deserve to have to clean up my messes," Scott burst out, "I should be able to do this on my own if I can just get my act together."

I don't need help. I've totally got this, I'm fine. I'm so completely fine, not that any of you would believe me if I said that. Not that he was doing a particularly good job of lying to himself right now either.

He was barely managing not to yell.

His mind ran at lightning speed even as he knew he was missing out on the looks the others were throwing each other over his head.

He kept going, "I'd been meaning to do this for you guys, you know, as a nice breakfast we could enjoy on our day off..." Scott's voice jammed in his throat.

His brothers were here supporting him, but he still couldn't fix any of these problems because he was the cause of them.

"Scott." Virgil was as always his rock, there for him when Scott couldn't figure out which was was up. "You. Are. Allowed. To. Ask. For. And. Accept. Our. Help."

With how awful he was at remembering that no matter how many times everyone told him, he should let them permanent marker it onto his forehead and be done with it.

"We all need help with stuff. It doesn't make you incapable," Gordon said.

Scott never begrudged fetching Gordon heat packs when his back was bad so he didn't have to get up or rubbing at the sore muscles after missions or assisting with the physio exercises Gordon still had to do.

Alan butted in, “I mean I don’t like chores, ‘cause who does, but Scott, that’s totally unfair if you have to do everything!”

"Sprout, it's alright, I don't do everything," Scott reassured automatically.

Alan gave him a look of utter teenage incredulity. "Yeah, but you try to."

John’s arms tightened around him as he rested his chin on Scott’s head and said simply, "We help each other, on missions and at home. That’s who we are.”

Scott could hear the smile in John’s voice as added, “So, how about breakfast?”

He took a deep breath, filling up his lungs before letting it out, allowing his brothers’ presences steady him. “Breakfast.”

"They're Scott-special pancakes but that doesn't mean we can't all help," Gordon ruled firmly.

"We'd all rather that than you having to do it all on your own." John hesitated then added, "Scott, you remember when we used to cook with Mum and Dad? Sunday mornings, all of us crammed in the kitchen in our pyjamas, covered in flour, everyone helping out?"

Of course he remembered. It had hurt too much to think about for years and the ache of loss was still there, but now he had a chance to make new memories with his brothers right beside him. His small smile matched John's.

"It makes them more special, not less," Virgil said, "Because we get to spend the time together."

"Yeah Scotty, we want to hang out with you," Alan finished, and that was that.

The group hug transformed into a mission planning huddle, though John and Gordon remained propping Scott up on either side.

Gordon was bouncing on his toes in anticipation, the fins on his clownfish towel flapping. "Okay. Where were we? Oh yeah, suggestions for us helping if you want us to give suggestions, because I don't want to stomp on what you're doing and take away your control over it 'cause that's really not actually helpful. But I do know how hard the 'thinking up what people should be doing' is when your brain is—" Gordon waved a hand about to complete the sentence. "So, yup."

Scott pressed his shoulder to Gordon's in silent appreciation of his thoughtfulness in the face of Scott's overwhelm. That's what he was, overwhelmed.

"Having some ideas would help. Please."

"We'll clean up the kitchen together. We've all had a part in leaving stuff in the fridge too long," Virgil said calmly, like there wasn't any shame in it. Scott filed that away in the back of his mind for later consideration.

"Alan can take One to Aotearoa and get the eggs and blueberries. He needs the practice flight hours anyway," John put forward.

Alan’s face lit up as he immediately shook off Virgil's arm around his shoulders to jump to the ready. “Can I? Scott. Scott, please? I promise I won’t scratch her, I’ll be as careful as I am with Three, in fact I’ll be carefuller! Wait is that even a word? So can I?”

"Nope. Not quite a word," John chipped in affectionately when Alan had to take a breath.

"Alright, alright." Scott held his hands up. "But you'd better bring her back in one piece or you won't be getting any pancakes," he joked. Mostly. As long as One didn't end up wedged in the swimming pool...

One last moment was spent in the huddle with his brother as Alan darted back for a goodbye hug, no matter how short the flight would be.

Putting their hands out in the centre in a stack, grinning at each other, they yelled in unison, “Tracies are go!!!”

Alan ran towards Scott's launch chute entrance, tossing over his shoulder, "Don't let Gordon eat them all before I get back!"

Gordon's indignant, "Hey!" was lost as the painting swung around, taking Alan with it.

"He does know that we need the eggs to make the pancakes which he is getting, right?" John asked as an aside.

"Eh, he'll work it out." Scott was looking after where Alan had gone wondering when their undeniably littlest brother had grown up so much. That applied regardless of continued brotherly taunting ‘cause wasn’t like he, John or Virgil had ever grown out of it.

Finally, the rest of them returned to the kitchen. Scott steeled himself as he stepped over the imaginary threshold separating it in the open plan design from the lounge.

The containers of spoilt food were sitting out on the bench where he'd left them, condensation dripping from the outsides in the subtropical heat. Unfinished pancake batter loomed from its bowl. Where would he even start? The multiple frying pans he'd need to cook such a big batch with were languishing in the bottom of the sink too.

Gordon set his hands on his hips, in a stand off against the mess. "Okey dokey. Scott, would you rather do dishes, begin emptying out the containers or make coffee so the Virge doesn't keel over? We'll split up the rest between us."

Scott found himself wandering over to the coffee station before he answered. It was the easiest, most straight forward task right now.

He bit his lips guiltily. "Can I?"

Virgil was already standing beside the sink, putting on an apron. He waved a pink rubber washing up glove at Scott in a 'go ahead' gesture, idly chewing on the corner of his flannel shirt collar.

That was about as much as he'd normally get out of Virgil before coffee, excluding missions and brotherly crises as this morning.

Scott inspected the array of coffee types set out in the cupboard next to the overly complicated, super fancy coffee machine Virgil insisted they have. It had more knobs and dials than Thunderbird Two's console he swore and that was already far too many, but Scott couldn't deny it made the best coffee.

None of that mattered though because above the machine was a laminated sheet of paper covered in Virgil's blocky handwriting outlining exactly the steps he had to follow in the order he had to do them, the same as a pre-flight checklist. Scott relaxed. Like a math problem, if he took it bit by bit he'd eventually end up at the right answer.

He'd make a cup for himself too. Not that it would wake him up, thanks ADHD, but he enjoyed the taste and it might do something for his focus.

Virgil's favourite coffee brand came in an electric green package with its name written in an indecipherable font most expected on a death metal album cover. Though at the strength Virgil drank it, it was pretty fitting. Scott had tried a sip once. Only once, as drinking undiluted tar was not his cup of, well, coffee. But Virgil loved the stuff.

Scott made the coffee and got out their biggest mug with the silly, absolutely tiny in proportion Thunderbird Two perched on the handle for his brother.

After passing Virgil his coffee, his brother turned it this way and that then grinned up at Scott. "Did you draw Two in the middle of the froth for me?"

Scott fetched his own coffee, before standing next to Virgil to squint into his mug. A lighter blob of foam floated in the centre. Those bits on the side could be the stubby wings. Though maybe Virgil was kidding, but he might not be so if he saw the Flying Turtle, the Great Green Bathtub, Thunderblob Two, who was Scott to protest artistic genius?

"Happy accident?" Scott told him as Virgil rolled his eyes and nudged his side.

Gordon stood on tip toe to look too. "It's not green. I mean, I could make it green!"

Virgil hunched protectively over his coffee. Do not get between Gordon and food dye was wisdom learned early.

"I think it looks more like Four," John deadpanned to significant outrage.

Scott cackled as Gordon attempted to mess up John's hair in revenge, both of them laughing at each other.

The coffee was warm going down as he took the moment to lean on Virgil as they both quietly sipped theirs, watching the others' antics.

His own mug had a comic of a Boeing aircraft crashing then bouncing down a runway, captioned 'boing.' Scott had giggled when he saw it in amongst the other mugs in the cupboard as he always did since Gordon and Alan had gifted it to him on his birthday, and decided he needed that today.

He held up for Virgil to inspect, along with John and Gordon glued together in their tackle hug.

Laughing, he read the text out loud, complete with sound effects.

Several hilarious minutes followed of them all repeating the sounds between them, bouncing around, echoing and playing off each other. Scott grinned so hard his cheeks ached. He needed this.

Maybe it was the placebo effect or the time spent freely messing around with his brothers, but with the coffee in him Scott was starting to feel a little better about the world and possibly himself too.

Better enough that he could face approaching the counter of suspicious containers to help Gordon.

Gordon was currently inspecting them with equal parts fascination and repulsion. He poked at the box Scott had found wedged at the very back of the fridge.

"Do you reckon that's last month's meatloaf? Or maybe it was the stew. I think it's got its own ecosystem!"

Nope, nope, nope. It looked like it was about to crawl away. "Do not open that, Gords!"

Virgil and John gathered behind him, peering over his shoulders. Scott could tell without seeing exactly which utterly icked out face John made.

Come on, Scotty, he told himself, you've dealt with grosser things on rescues. And in raising very little brothers; he certainly did not miss some stuff.

"We can sacrifice one container, right?" he said. Right? You had to know when to call it in the hopeless cases.

Unanimous noises of agreement were rapidly made. The container was summarily carried over to the bin with caution equivalent of handling radioactive waste. Scott wouldn't be surprised if it set off a geiger counter.

The punnet of blueberries he'd meant for the pancakes joined it. They were well beyond salvage.

Scott tugged a hand through his hair, trying his best not to let the guilty regret swallow him up. The frustration surged, as even though they'd finally cleaned out the fridge and dealt with the stuff, he hadn't been able to prevent the waste happening in the first place.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he and Gordon wiped out the shelves so they could put back all the non-archaeological bottles of lurking sauces that he'd also taken out to get at the other stuff. The patch of mystery sticky substance probably didn't require as much scrubbing force as he was putting into it.

...it wasn't a mystery. It was the strawberry smoothie leftover from a morning Gordon had made too much that Scott had spilt while getting it out midnight to fuel his deadline induced frenzy of report writing. That had been only after he'd realised the reason he felt so shaky and sick was that he'd forgotten to eat all day despite several heavy, exhausting rescues.

After wiping up the last of it, he tossed the cloth into soapy sink with a splash. Immediately he was apologising for startling Virgil as the cloth flew past him as he did the dishes.

There went Scott and another stupidly impulsive action. No one even had to tell him off for the gaping hole to open up in his chest. He stood in middle of the room, feet rooted to the floor, frozen as he resisted the urge to storm off to One's hanger or some other darker, damper crevice to curl up and probably sob about such a dumb mistake, so he wasn't abandoning his brothers.

Gordon's much smaller hand slipped into his own.

"Do you wanna take a break, Scotty?"

Silently, honestly, Scott nodded.

He followed Gordon's lead as he tugged Scott over to the patch of clear floor in the lounge by the full length windows.

Then, because this was Gordon, he just lay down on the ground with an exclamation of, "Floor time!"

Scott got down next to him and flopped onto his back staring upwards. At least attempting to work out where Gordon's offbeat schemes were going was a distraction from his thoughts tearing him apart.

Virgil and John were still working away in the kitchen. The guilt gnawed. Scott screwed his eyes shut then rubbed the heels of his hands over them, hard enough to see spots before he opened them again as he really shouldn’t do that. He wound his fingers through the hem of his shirt, fidgeting.

Blue sky stretched above them, framed by the edge of the roof. Beyond the glass, sun shone through the cloudless expanse. Scott let himself relax into the floorboards.

"See, it's all good if you need some time out. We're proud of you, big bro." Gordon edged closer to press their shoulders and sides together.

"Thanks," Scott whispered.

He fixed his gaze back on the sky outside, on the wide, open, beautiful sky.

"How did you know this would help?"

The fish nudged him. "Sometimes a change in perspective is what you need, getting in the ant's eye view if you will. You're too tall, the air gets thin up there."

"Like you'd get the heights, fish sticks," Scott joked.

Gordon's impression of mock offence, complete with hand clutching at his chest and shocked gasp, was ruined by his giggles.

For a moment he grew serious again, amber eyes taking Scott in. "And like literally it’s also a break so the rest of you can catch up with your brain. I get when there's so much going on up there anything extra tips you overboard."

Slowly, the world felt less like it was about to end as he briefly met Gordon eyes then turned to the blue above.

Scott bumped their heads together. "Thanks, again for everything."

"No problem, I'm always happy to help my bros."

It was impossible to miss the emphasis that this very much included Scott, despite him being the eldest.

Lying on the floor with Gordon in a pool of sunlight streaming in cut through the frantic spiralling he had been nose diving into again.

Scott calculated the windspeed outside from the movement of the small branches at the tops of the pōhutukawa trees he could see upside-down at the corner of his vision. Little bits of leaves and debris, a constant pain to clean up on their heavily vegetated island danced across the concrete patio outside.

"You reckon it's blowing about twenty, twenty-two kays per hour out there, Gords?" he said.

Gordon levered himself up and leant towards him to get a better look over to the ocean. "Yeah, thereabouts. Twelve knots."

They heard Virgil's hum from the kitchen before he chipped in, "Closer to twenty-four or so kays, I'd say."

"Bets all in?" The mirth in John's voice was obvious as he pulled up a holo, though Scott didn't doubt he had his own number in mind. "Our weather system puts Tracy Island local windspeed at twenty-two—"

Scott pumped a fist in the air.

"—Point nine kilometres per hour."

Gordon cheered. "AKA twelve point four knots, boom!"

Scott rolled his eyes and high-fived Gordon in celebration.

With several more breaths of watching the sky, he sat up, stretching his arms above his head.

"Ready to go, Scooter?"

Scott stood before giving Gordon a hand up from the ground. "Yeah, I am."

Coming back to the kitchen, the first thing Scott did was fall into Virgil's offered hug before he, Virgil Gordon and John gathered in a circle to work out what was next. When John got too wobbly on his feet to keep standing, he hopped up on the counter, sorting through the papers that had been stuck under the fridge magnets as Scott handed them to him. Categorised piles formed from the sticky note and post card debris heap before his eyes.

Alan's holo popped up on the com. "Hey everyone!"

Scott jumped at the sudden noise before grinning at his little brother.

"I swear I was listening but what am I supposed to be getting, again?" Alan said, twisting one of his hoodie strings up before tucking the end into his mouth to chew on.

"It's alright Alan. Get a dozen eggs, actually make that two dozen if we want to have any for breakfast another day. The blueberries, a couple of packets. Bananas, while you're at it. Maybe more maple syrup, I don't know if we're out," Scott listed as he wandered over to the pantry to check. "More cornflakes!" he yelled back.

Scott returned to the kitchen proper to stick his head in the fridge to find out about their milk situation. He turned back to his brothers after determining they were probably two days from running out.

Alan on the holo glanced up from inspecting the bottle of caramel sauce that had materialised in his hand. "Uhh guys, I kinda missed everything after how many eggs?"

Scott winced. He should've noticed Alan was distracted by the overstimulating hell of a supermarket, and that as ADHDer number three he probably wasn't going to remember all the points on Scott's rambling list, hell, Scott didn't ever remember half of them and he was the one who'd just said them. He hadn't thought—

"Scott, I've got it." John waved his phone in the air before resuming tap-tapping out Scott's dictation. "Allie, I'll send you the list once I'm done.

"Awesome, 'kay thanks! Hey, can I get ice cream, it's half off?"

"Get the one with the marshmallows and the little fish!" Gordon exclaimed as he shoved his way into view.

Alan hung up before Scott managed to get a word in edgeways. The fish of Gordon's favourite flavour were made of chocolate, not actual fish as Scott had feared the first time he'd tried it.

Alan would have the written list to refer back to, it was all alright. Scott didn't need to worry. Even if Alan had spent a while wandering the shops as One must've gotten there fast, his littlest brother had been more sensible than Scott had been in the past in calling them up for clarification. Or in the present.

It hadn't been the first time and it definitely wasn't the last, but Scott remembered getting sent out to the local shops to get bread as a teen and how he'd made sure to get everything from John's bagels, to the type of cereal Virgil liked and all the other stuff to go on sandwiches for school lunches, except he'd forgotten the bread and Dad had just sighed disappointedly, going back to his way more important work. Scott had barely managed to put everything away before bursting into tears, hiding in the kitchen by ducking below the cupboard level so no one would see at a glance. Damn, he hoped he was doing better than that with Alan.

"Thanks for the save, John," he murmured, approached to lean against the counter next to John.

Typing one-handedly, John reached out to squeeze Scott's hand with his other.

Instead of throwing himself back into the fray with frustrating emotions ready to boil over like he usually would, or joining in with whatever the fish and the tank were getting up to that involved overly loud whispering near the pantry, Scott boosted himself up to sit on the bench with John, carefully avoiding all the papers. With a quiet question so as not to surprise his brother as he was focusing, Scott ended up leaning his head on John's shoulder for a bit to rest. John leant into him too.

A change of perspective did help. Scott was doing okay. Not perfect, but well enough, no matter how hard that was to admit that when he spent too many nights up worrying about all the things he should've somehow done better. As well, some part deep inside him nudged that maybe, possibly he also deserved the kindness he gave everyone else but never himself.

Gordon spotted him taking the moment out and they shared a smile. Gordon being Gordon also gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up. See? Scott told himself, Progress.

Shortly, Alan's holo popped up again, back in Thunderbird One.

"Groceries are stowed, enroute to Tracy Island now!" Alan chirped.

"FAB," sounded off from all of them.

Everyone was now listening out for the sound of One. Several stomachs growled.

Soon, soon they'd finally have pancakes.

The minutes passed in suspense. Scott put the organised papers back on the fridge, filed them over at the desk or chucked them in the recycling as John directed.

They discovered the fishtank plan in the form of the opened bag of chocolate bits being squabbled over.

"Can we make some choc chip ones too?" Virgil was practically vibrating with excitement.

Gordon unrepentantly stole a chocolate chip. "What he said," Gordon campaigned, despite Scott knowing that Gordon actually preferred the blueberry and banana pancakes as his top pick.

Finally rockets arrived with a roar, as the pool slid open and One disappeared into it.

Then the elevator dinged and Alan triumphantly stumbled out carrying far too many bags for one person.

"Good work!" Scott cheered, as he and Virgil rushed to help.

"Thanks, Scotty!" Alan lit up. "Also I'm starving."

"Well we'll soon fix that problem!"

Scott took the eggs and cracked them one by one into the bowl of dry ingredients for his pancake batter. Just to show off, he did it one-handedly. The blueberries were washed and he added them in, popping a couple in his mouth too for good measure. Someone needed to taste test, it was tradition, all the way back to the ranch and small hands trying to sneak around Mum before she bopped them playfully with the sticky wooden spoon. The berries were the perfect ripeness, sweet with that tiny edge of tartness cutting through right.

"The baking powder," Scott began, "I don't—I've got no idea if its in there or not."

The pancakes wouldn't rise it he had forgotten, they'd fall flat as unfortunate, failed pancakes. But in reverse, if he had put it in and added more—he'd made that mistake before. The resulting puffy ooze resembled a science experiment more than an edible food.

"I found the box of baking powder open on the bench, if that helps," Virgil gave him.

"Yeah, it was right next to the bowl. Looks like it had just been sat down." Gordon confirmed.

Alan's eyebrows were crumpled into an incredibly serious expression as he contemplated. "I think you probably did put it in, Scotty."

There was no guarantee. But he could take the leap, having faith in his brothers and the best guesses they all had.

"Okay, alright. The batter is done then!" he said, putting as much enthusiasm into his voice as he could muster.

Virgil shooed Alan out to set the table , following with plates so there wouldn't so many cooks in the kitchen with the potential to bump the hot stove.

Gordon set the several pans to heat, guarding over them as he added butter, melting and bubbling.

Scott lingered, beating the last lumps out of the mix with the whisk. He bumped John's dangling legs out of the way of the drawers so he could dig out a ladle.

"Worse case scenario, we will make another batch. We have enough ingredients," John said quietly, just to him as the others danced about preparing things to eat the pancakes with, Gordon pretending he wasn't listening to them also.

Scott could always trust John to think through all the possibilities on missions, even, especially the hard ones. It was more reassuring to know that they had a plan if stuff all went to hell, than pretend it simply wouldn't. Biting experience had taught him better than that.

This though was just making pancakes for his brothers, not saving the world from high stakes catastrophe. His brothers, who no matter how badly he messed up would always love him.

Scott ladled batter out into the pans, flipping the pancakes over once they grew bubbly and cooked at the edges.

Even when the first one fell apart and turned out rather burnt on one side as he attempted to salvage it after flipping too soon, they all tore it to pieces and ate it anyway as a snack before the proper ones.

The next turned out golden brown, speckled with the blueberries.

Scott grinned happily, joy bubbling up inside his chest.

He made sure to make some blueberry and choc chip ones, and blueberry and banana ones, separating out the mixture. Then some all of the above ones too for good measure.

Virgil and Alan were singing along to a boppy pop song Scott would probably find stuck in his head later. Gordon twirled around the kitchen, dancing along with his wonderfully ridiculous clownfish towel swirling. John kept him company, nodding his head with the beat before he joined in the singing, swinging his legs slightly out of time, carefree. Scott flipped the pancakes, tossing them recklessly high in the air, waving the spatula and moving his whole body with the music, wiggling his hips and bouncing on his toes in excitement.

Scott ate pancakes with his brothers, closer to noon than to breakfast time but everyone swore this lot were the best they'd had. They laughed together and the weight of the world pressing on Scott's shoulders didn't feel so heavy.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #virgil tracy #astrawrite #adhd scott tracy #neurodivergent tracies

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mywingsareonwheels · 2 years ago

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On "Endeavour" series 9 (a critical/disappointed but affectionate post)

Cut for length, spoilers, and criticism :)

I've been thinking so much (too much ;-) ) about the ending of Endeavour since it came out. Sometimes joyfully, sometimes wistfully, mostly sadly. Occasionally angrily.

What series 9, and especially 9.3 really needed to do was a) wind up and honour the character arcs/plot arcs of Endeavour and b) set things up for Inspector Morse. And honestly, after months of pondering and thinking and hearing other people's views on it (both those I agree with and those I don't, the latter actually including Shaun Evans's ;-) )... I think it did at least partially fail in both those aims. But I think it failed ambitiously and lovingly. Which matters.

The Bad Stuff:-

The key problem Russell Lewis has said he had in writing s9 was the Thursday family and the fact that Morse never mentions any of them in IM, at least unless Joan really is the Mrs Strange of that period of time.

This problem was made worse by the fact that they are four of the most lovable characters in Endeavour, and that the relationship between Morse and Fred Thursday is the key one within it. So I can see the logic! Something awful has to happen. And given Morse's romantic interest in Joan, the Thursday family generational war trauma, and Fred's PTSD-ridden tendencies towards explosive violence when he's feeling protective of his loved ones or other vulnerable people... I can see why Lewis went with the solution he did.

The trouble is... solving the Problem of the Thursdays I think took over series 9 to such an extent that the writing managed to:-

a) honestly? fridge the character development and perceived quality of all four Thursdays (especially Fred and Joan, both of whom I think got a really rough deal tbh) in order to further Morse's long-term arc, which really is a bit bloody unfair after 9 seasons. Very very damn unfair in fact. And... uncompassionate, which is awful given that overall Endeavour is one of the most compassionate shows I've ever seen.

b) undermine Jakes's return by giving a necessary incompleteness to his search for Big Pete (and also massively underusing Jack Laskey, but honestly the fact that series 9 was only three episodes long did cause problems there).

c) turn Big Pete/Raymond Kennet into just a plot device for the aforementioned fridging of Fred's character development which... actually I admit didn't fully notice until I read a fic chapter today which did the opposite, but oof.

d) undermine Max's friendship with Morse in Inspector Morse by ignoring it completely and implying that Morse is Alone Forever after the events of Endeavour which just Isn't The Case (and again, James Bradshaw was shockingly underused). Gods could we have done with at least one scene where it was recognised that Max isn't going anywhere and they like each other so much. <3

e) actually? Undermine the complexity of the Morse of Inspector Morse too. Because DCI Morse? Is not constantly miserable and dour and closed off and unable to connect with people. He has friends, he has choir, he can make literary references in the station and have a random PC pick them up, he has a positively impish sense of humour at times, he still has his wonderful relationship with Joyce. His house is gorgeous and thoroughly well-loved. He immediately warms to Lewis who is a lot like Thursday at times, and he clearly rather enjoys Lewis teasing him so much. He is kind and compassionate, and sometimes his manner with witnesses is very like Thursday's avuncular best moments. Sure, DCI Morse is also difficult and grumpy and most definitely an alcoholic; he struggles to open up fully to people and never manages to pull off a long-term romantic relationship. But he's not a permanent ice king. He's actually a lot more like the earlier DC Morse at times than the Morse of the last few minutes of 9.3! The whole "I was betrayed by Thursday and now I will never trust anyone ever again ever" thing just wasn't necessary in order to set up Morse in his 40s and 50s. If anything, it leaves open the question of how he navigates what's actually a rather larger character jump than it would have been if Endeavour had ended earlier. Which just... ngyargh. (Also, I mean... I'm not aro, very emphatically not, but even I can see that there's something more than a bit problematic about the suggestion that Morse's life is tragic forever because he's usually single.)

Here's the other thing though: the one respect in which he is very closed-off even with Lewis in Inspector Morse is that he never tells Lewis about anyone important in his past unless he actually has to (usually because they die a violent death and his connection with the victim comes up). Never mentioning the Thursdays, Dorothea, Bright, Jakes? It didn't need that intense an explanation. At least, not a "he can't even bear to think about Fred or Joan again" explanation. It just means none of them died a violent death in Thames Valley during his time as DCI which, you know, I am extremely fricking glad about! ;-) He could press the still-beloved Thursday family to his heart like flowers, and that would be enough. He could still be getting postcards from all of them right up to the end (and I'm persisting in believing that he does ;-) ).

To unpack point a) a bit:- I mean where Joan's concerned I think a lot of us agree on this. I actually do like Strange! But it is horrible that we never hear anything about Joan's social work in series 9; it's implied that she's giving up her job in order to marry him. And Joan finding herself and moving towards saving the world one woman at a time was beautiful. I mean, there was no obligation to have everyone have a happy ending series 9! But the ending of that arc of Joan's without explanation and without comment. Not even a brief discussion where she says that she's regarding it as worth it, or is wondering about going back to work at some point... gah. That's harsh. Also, if she is the Mrs Strange of Inspector Morse? That isn't going to be a very happy marriage. :( So we're left I think hoping that they'll divorce, and that Joan will go back to social work one day, and perhaps go and find her family.

And Fred. Oh Gods, Fred. I mean, I have made so many posts about him on here. ;-) The thing is: with the context provided in series 9, him committing manslaughter (not murder! not under English/Welsh law! and he might even have a decent case for self-(and other) defense!) and perverting the course of justice (yeah okay that he definitely is guilty of) in order to save Sam... it makes sense. He has had his moments of violence, and I think it's crucial to not forget that he's killed two people to save Morse in the past. Which... is part of what frustrates me, because it feels like the narrative in 9.3 is that we should treat Fred killing to save Sam as somehow less morally okay than him killing to save Morse. Which is the kind of protagonist-centered morality (or indeed police-centered morality?) that the morseverse generally avoids, and I Do Not Like It.

But the precise circumstances that series 9 creates in order to make it convincing for Fred to a) do that, b) cover it up, c) snap that badly at Morse, d) try to justify what he's done to Morse... they were extreme. It takes one of the most intense piles of trauma laid on one character in one 3-episode season of anything I think I've ever seen. Fred is going through so much, he's so broken, he's so burnt out. And I mean... of course! It took all of that to make him make those mistakes! But in retrospect... if you need to set up that intense a situation in order to make a character fuck up enough to further the plot line of another character... yeah. Hence my comment about fridging his arc. The point of Morse and Fred's relationship until series 9 has always been that even though they are both very flawed and very fallible, their love for each other is a good and awesome thing (series 7 I think really brings that home <3 ). It feels to me that 9.3 makes the whole of the rest of the show less moving and good, and that's... oh that's sad. So sad. :( I mean, I'm very biased, the Morse & Fred relationship has always been my favourite thing about Endeavour! But if the ultimate message is "Morse should never have loved Fred that much, however kind Fred was and however often he saved Morse's life"... oh that's just... it makes the whole thing so much thinner. This is, apart from anything else, a man who explicitly puts his marriage at risk when his son is missing in order to save Morse at the end of s8! But now we're supposed to see everything a tragedy because Morse has to accept that he isn't that important to Fred and never has been because during a really intense few months he's not been Fred's number 1 priority and... gaaaah.

This is terribly rambly; I'm really not as articulate today as I should like. Apologies!

The thing is: I've been fighting actually-being-a-bit-disappointed-in-series 9 for months, but now I'm going "no actually they failed" I can be a bit more generous. :)

Because...

The Good Stuff:

a) Bright's arc is fantastic. 100/10, no criticisms. <3 Probably the only one I'm fully happy about but I am very happy about it.

b) There is not a split-second in the whole of series 9 (the whole of Endeavour in fact) in which the acting is other than superb, especially from the main cast. That farewell scene between Morse and Thursday? Fucking hell. I mean, Roger Allam is my favourite actor, he never disappoints, but he still astounded me! And Shaun was also just magnificent. <3 And why hasn't Anton Lesser played Prospero yet; his delivery of the speech was incredible! Also fucking hell Caroline O'Neill is an unsung hero of the whole show.

c) To do the Fred arc justice: Fred's morality wasn't thrown away over nothing. I do feel that the trauma-conga-line-to-enable-Fred-to-let-Morse-down-sufficiently bordered at least on the contrived and unkind, but my Gods it would have been so much worse if it wasn't there! <3

d) So much nuance. I mean the fact that a lot of us cheerfully disagree with each other over how forgiving or otherwise Morse was feeling towards Fred? Is based on microexpressions, and call-backs, and how much we can read into the layering of Fred's image over the reference to Lazarus "born a pauper" in the "In Paradisum" of the Faure Requiem, and what sounds like was more than one filmed version of the farewell scene. I mean, my Gods. Endeavour has always respected the intelligence of the viewer, but that was something else.

e) The nitty-gritty of the dialogue never stopped being wonderful. Some absolutely incredible lines, literary references, layered scenes... I know I talk about James Bradshaw and Jack Laskey being underused, but the lines that each of Max and Jakes got while actually onscreen? Phenomenal. Ditto Abigail Thaw/Dorothea, on all counts.

f) The cinematography bloody hell. <3 <3 <3 And the music! Aaah!

The failures of series 9 I see are in pacing, and in making flawed decisions that don't serve the characterisation. They aren't, not once, about the quality of filmmaking being anything other than fantastic. <3 Or the storyline being other than extremely ambitious. There's nothing lazy or cheap or shock-tactics-for-the-sake-of-shock-tactics or (grr) prioritising being unpredictable over being good. It's all earnest and loving and beautifully-realised.

So many times when a show ends disappointingly (or a show's current main actor's final series ending disappointingly *cough*Shetland*cough*) it's down to lack of care and attention and love. I can't possibly accuse Russell Lewis or anyone involved in Endeavour of that. <3

I just... I just wish, so much, that they'd made different choices for the Thursdays. But at least we still have fanfic. :-)

(Also, full love to those of you who disagree with me on part or all of this! I love that this is a fandom where we can agree to disagree, and avoid much in the way of ship wars/character wars etc.. <3 Long may it continue!)

#itv endeavour #endeavour spoilers #endeavour s9 #endeavour s9 spoilers #itv inspector morse #mild inspector morse spoilers #endeavour critical #but also #endeavour admiring #e morse #endeavour morse #inspector morse #fred thursday #joan thursday #russell lewis

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shamimakter-blog · 3 months ago

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The Ultimate Guide to the VEVOR 75L/95L Portable Car Fridge: A Must-Have for Outdoor Enthusiasts and Home Use

VEVOR 75L 95L Small Car Fridge 12V/24V Portable Mini Dual Storage Zone Refrigerator Compressor Truck Freezer Cooler for Home Use

👉👉Buy now: https://youtu.be/H3-0-PN862U

🔥🔥 DISCOUNT: 54% 🔥🔥

Whether you're an avid camper, a road trip enthusiast, or simply need extra refrigeration space at home, the VEVOR 75L/95L Small Car Fridge is a game-changer. This 12V/24V portable dual-zone refrigerator-freezer combines power, efficiency, and versatility, making it an indispensable companion for outdoor adventures and everyday use.

In this 1,000-word review, we’ll explore its key features, performance, real-world applications, and why it stands out among competitors.

Introduction: Why Choose the VEVOR 75L/95L Portable Car Fridge? Traditional coolers rely on ice, which melts quickly and leaves food soggy. The VEVOR 75L/95L eliminates this problem with compressor-based cooling, ensuring your food and drinks stay fresh for days—without the mess.

This fridge is designed for:

Camping & road trips – Keep perishables fresh on long journeys.

RV & boating – Dual-zone storage for frozen and refrigerated items.

Home use – Extra freezer or fridge space for parties or overflow storage.

Off-grid living – Works with solar power, car batteries, and AC outlets.

With dual-zone temperature control, a robust compressor, and smart power management, it’s a versatile cooling solution for any situation 1314.

Key Features & Benefits ✅ Large Capacity (75L & 95L Models) Holds 73-123 cans of soda or 41-51 bottles of water, depending on the model 13.

Detachable wire basket for flexible storage options.

Dual-zone compartments – Set one side as a freezer (-4°F) and the other as a fridge (68°F) 4.

✅ Powerful Compressor Cooling Cools from room temp to -4°F in ~2 hours—no ice needed 4.

Operates efficiently even at a 30° incline, making it perfect for off-road trips 14.

MAX & ECO modes – MAX for rapid cooling, ECO for energy savings (only 45W-90W power consumption) 13.

✅ Smart Controls & Convenience LCD touchscreen for precise temperature adjustments.

Bluetooth app control – Adjust settings remotely via smartphone 4.

Built-in LED light for nighttime visibility 14.

✅ Car Battery Protection & Power Options 3-level battery protection (Low/Mid/High) prevents draining your car battery 13.

Works with:

12V/24V DC (car/RV/solar)

100-240V AC (home use) 4.

✅ Durable & Portable Design ABS plastic shell – Shockproof and drop-resistant.

Wheels & telescopic handle – Easy to transport 13.

Bottom drain hole – Simplifies cleaning 14.

Performance & Real-World Use Cases 🔥 Cooling Efficiency Maintains stable temps even in hot environments (up to 100°F ambient temp) 10.

Silent operation (≤45dB)—quieter than a library 13.

🚗 Perfect for Road Trips & Camping No more melted ice—keeps meat frozen and drinks cold for days.

Great for RVs—saves energy compared to built-in fridges 5.

🏡 Home & Emergency Use Extra freezer space for bulk shopping.

Power outage backup—can run on a portable power station 11.

Pros & Cons ✔️ Pros: Dual-zone flexibility – Freeze and refrigerate simultaneously.

Energy-efficient – Uses less power than traditional fridges.

Remote control via app – Adjust temps from your phone.

Rugged & portable – Built for outdoor adventures.

❌ Cons: Bulky for small cars – The 95L model may not fit in compact vehicles.

Slightly heavy (~53 lbs for the 95L version) 13.

How It Compares to Other Portable Fridges Feature VEVOR 95L Competitor A Competitor B Capacity 95L (100Qt) 75L 50L Dual Zones ✅ Yes ❌ No ✅ Yes Battery Protection ✅ 3 Levels ✅ 1 Level ❌ No Noise Level ≤45dB 50dB 48dB Price $532.99 $600+ $450 Verdict: The VEVOR offers the best balance of capacity, features, and price 134.

Final Verdict: Who Should Buy This? The VEVOR 75L/95L Portable Fridge is ideal for:

Campers & overlanders – Reliable cooling off-grid.

RV & boat owners – Saves energy vs. built-in fridges.

Large families – Extra storage for groceries.

Preppers – Emergency food preservation.

If you want a high-capacity, energy-efficient, and durable fridge-freezer combo, this is a top-tier choice.

Where to Buy & Warranty Official VEVOR store (beware of counterfeit sellers) 14.

12-month warranty – Covers manufacturing defects.

Final Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (5/5) Performance: 5/5 Features: 5/5 Value for Money: 4.5/5

Bottom Line: The VEVOR 75L/95L is a versatile, powerful, and well-designed portable fridge that outperforms many competitors. Whether for camping, road trips, or home use, it’s a worthwhile investment for anyone needing reliable cooling on the go.

Would you buy this fridge? Let us know in the comments! 🚗❄️

#car_refrigerator #mini_refrigerator #refrigerator #fridge #freezer #cooler #ice_maker #cube #ice #home #appliance #driving #camping #picnic #travel #dc #ac #ice_box #youtube #video

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tekrashed · 11 months ago

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Why Smart Refrigeration Monitoring is Essential in the KSA

This articles elaborates on the importance that an innovative smart fridge temperature monitoring device in Jeddah, refrigerator monitoring system in Riyadh and high-end temperature monitor for a refrigerator in Dammam hold to maintain efficiency at its pinnacle including safety.

So, What Exactly is Smart Refrigeration Monitoring?

Understanding the Basics

Smart refrigeration monitoring refers to the use of state-of-the-art instruments and systems for continuously assessing and controlling cold in the refrigerator units.

Key Components

Sensors: Accurate sensors for measuring temperature, humidity and more important than the rest.

Data loggers: These devices keep track of the temperature data over time, adding notes to your results.

Connectivity: Monitor and control copy operation remotely with Wi-Fi or Bluetooth connectivity.

Why the KSA Requires Smart Refrigeration Monitoring

Extreme Climate Conditions

Such models must be used in refrigeration installations because the hot climate in KSA calls for more savings due to efficient refrigeration. Given that high temperatures could possibly mean low quality and in some cases unsafe perishable goods, Powerhouse monitoring is essential.

Food Safety

Ensuring food safety is important when it comes to retail and the restaurant industries. Refrigeration prevents spoilage, waste and unnecessary fermentation to make foodstuffs safe for global consumption.

Pharmaceutical Integrity

It is essential to ensure the integrity of temperature-sensitive pharmaceuticals in the healthcare sector. Medicines and vaccines are effective only if they are made at the correct temperature.

Perks Of Smart Fridge Temperature Monitoring Device in Jeddah

Real-Time Monitoring

Temperature Monitoring Device in Jeddah for Smart Fridges: A smart fridge temperature monitoring device based out of Jeddah that is hooked up to the sensor on board, it keeps a check and alarm set off as soon as there is any deviation from your desired value.

Automated Alerts

There are devices which can automatically send alarms by SMS, email and app notification when the temperature exceed some user-defined thresholds. Which helps them track any spoilage or damage before something serious happens.

Energy Efficiency

Smart monitors help ensure that your home is heated and cooled precisely, meaning less energy used during times you’re away from the house (or are tucked into bed), thereby lowering utility costs.

Data Analytics

This collected data can then be analyzed to observe patterns, predict potential problems and make economically informed decisions in relation to maintenance or management of stock.

Benefits of Refrigerator Monitoring System Riyadh

Compliance with Regulations

With the help of a fridge monitoring system in Riyadh, businesses stay compliant with local and global food safety as well as pharmaceuticals regulations by exact temperature logs.

Enhanced Reliability

They are more reliable than the manual methods of monitoring, and hence they ensure no-miss compliance at all times.

Enhanced Operational Efficiency

Integrated with automated monitoring systems, this technology minimizes operational stress and allows staff to focus on other important jobs knowing the exact state of refrigeration units available.

Reduced Waste

In protecting against spoilage, these systems pay early returns in eliminating waste and play a pivotal role for sustainable outcomes.

Benefits of a Refrigerator Monitoring solution in Dammam

Perishable goods are protected from the external environment

A fridge temperature monitoring system in Dammam makes sure that perishable items remain at the right temperatures, preserving their quality and increasing shelf life.

Increased Accountability

These systems offer detailed temperature management logs and reports, which serve to enhance accountability for the proper handling of these perishables.

Quick Issue Resolution

The Digital Broker also provides real-time alerts on problems throughout the transporter so that they can be resolved in short order before goods are spoiled and business is disrupted.

Improved Customer Contentment

Maximize Customer satisfaction: This is a huge factor that needs attention when it comes to perishable goods, and customer retention in the areas of food as well as retail.

Collaborative Monitoring Solution for Refrigeration

Assessing Needs

How to Implement a Smart Refrigeration Monitoring System Assess Facility Requirements Home This is everything from what the goods are, to temperature requirements and amount of goods.

Choosing the Right System

The best monitoring setup for your application will be highly dependent upon the specific requirements hence, it is necessary to take into account factors such as sensor accuracy, available forms of connectivity and ease of use/integration with existing systems etc.

Installation and Training

The monitoring system must be well installed to function properly. But you also need to train your staff how to use it, understand the data and respond to the alerts.

Regular Maintenance

The performance of the system that monitors the status is kept in its best working condition with regular maintenance. This will include sensor calibration, software update and connectivity check.

Upcoming Smart Refrigeration Monitoring Updates

IoT Integration

The combination of IoT and sensors in full-service refrigeration monitoring will also be more connected, sharing data automatically for greater control over efficiency.

Artificial Intelligence

AI-driven analytics will only make this process better with predictive maintenance and temperature management.

Block chain for Data Security

Temperature is recorded throughout the shipping process, and blockchain technology can serve as a secure container for that information in order to verify its origin at any given point along which it was logged.

Conclusion

The temperature monitoring and smart fridge in Jeddah is guaranteed to benefit the quality of perishable goods refrigerated products delivered by are manufactured for their safe practices. All these systems support real-time monitoring, automated alerts and give very impressive data analytics for ensuring reliable temperature control in your businesses. Empowering companies with these lines, they can improve operational efficiency and comply regulatory requirements to deliver best customer service as well.

FAQs

1. What are the Major Perks of Using a Smart Fridge Temperature Monitoring Device in Jeddah?

Smart Fridge Temperature Monitoring Device in Jeddah eliminates the guesswork of monitoring your fridge temperature with a smart system on top that provides real-time information, an alert-based solution for rounding, and multiple site locations. It is controlled by auto-sending SMS to take immediate action.

2. Ways a Refrigerator Monitoring System in Riyadh Helps with Regulatory Compliance

The Riyadh temperature monitoring system for refrigerators records temperatures and sends automatic alerts, allowing businesses to adhere to food safety & pharmaceutical standards.

3. What Makes Temperature Monitoring for Perishable Goods in Dammam So Important?

Refrigerator temperature monitoring systems in Dammam keep the perishables at place, lengthen their remnants life and please customers by providing a right storing condition.

4. When Selecting a Smart Refrigeration Monitoring System, What Should You Care About?

It largely depends on the accuracy of sensors, connectivity options with IoT platform and edge solutions, ease to use different protocols; ability and performance in terms of integrate this new solution into existing systems; specific need for any facility or premises.

5. So, what to expect in the future trends of smart refrigeration monitoring?

Some of the trends, which will be followed in future includes Integration with IoT for greater connectivity and understanding AI enhanced analytics for predictive maintenance Secure & transparent data tracking using block chain technology

For more information contact us on:

[email protected]

+966502104086

#iotenabledrefrigeratorksa #smartrefrigeratorksa #refrigeratormonitoringriyadh

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waleedtechnicalservicessharjah · 1 year ago

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Is DIY Fridge Repair in Sharjah Worth the Effort? Let's Discuss

Fridges are an essential appliance in every home, and when they break down, it can be a real inconvenience. Many homeowners in Sharjah are faced with the decision of whether to attempt a DIY repair or call a professional. While DIY repairs may seem like a cost-effective option, it's important to weigh the pros and cons before diving in. In this article, we will explore the factors to consider when deciding if DIY fridge repair in Sharjah is worth the effort. So, let's discuss!

The pros and cons of DIY fridge repair

DIY fridge repair in Sharjah has its own set of advantages and disadvantages. One of the main advantages is the potential cost savings. By opting to fix the fridge yourself, you can avoid paying for professional repair services, which can be quite expensive. Additionally, DIY repair allows you to have control over the entire process and ensures that you are not at the mercy of a technician's schedule.

However, DIY fridge repair also comes with its fair share of drawbacks. One major concern is the lack of expertise and knowledge required to accurately diagnose and fix the problem. A wrong repair attempt may worsen the situation and cause further damage to the appliance. Moreover, finding the correct parts can be challenging, especially for less popular fridge models.

The risks of DIY fridge repair in Sharjah

While DIY fridge repair in Sharjah can be tempting, it is important to recognize the risks involved. One of the main concerns is the lack of expertise and knowledge required for such repairs. Without proper understanding, you may misdiagnose the problem or worsen it inadvertently. In some cases, this can result in irreparable damage to your fridge, leading to the need for a costly replacement.

Another risk is the availability of correct parts for less popular fridge models. Locating specific components can be challenging and time-consuming, especially if you are not familiar with the local market. This may delay the repair process or force you to settle for generic alternatives, which may not fit or function properly.

while DIY fridge repair may offer cost savings and control over the process, it is essential to carefully assess the risks involved. Proceeding without the necessary expertise and access to required parts could potentially cost you more in the long run.

The benefits of hiring a professional fridge repair service

When it comes to repairing your fridge, hiring a professional service can prove to be a wise decision. Here are some key benefits that hiring a professional fridge repair service in Sharjah can offer:

a) Expertise and knowledge: Professional repair technicians have the necessary expertise and knowledge to diagnose and fix fridge problems accurately. With their experience in the field, they can quickly identify the root cause of the issue and provide an effective solution.

b) Access to quality parts: Professional repair services have access to a wide range of quality parts, including those required for less popular fridge models. This eliminates the hassle of finding specific components and ensures that your fridge is repaired with the right parts, guaranteeing optimal functionality.

c) Time-saving: By hiring a professional service, you can save valuable time that would otherwise be spent researching, troubleshooting, and attempting DIY repairs. Instead, you can rely on the expertise of professionals who can efficiently handle the repair process, allowing you to focus on other important tasks.

d) Cost-effective in the long run: While you may have to pay a fee for professional repair services, it can be a cost-effective decision in the long run. Attempting DIY repairs without the necessary expertise and knowledge can lead to further damage and the need for costly replacements. By entrusting the repair to professionals, you can avoid these additional expenses and potentially extend the lifespan of your fridge.

How to choose the right fridge repair service in Sharjah

When it comes to choosing a professional fridge repair service in Sharjah, there are a few important considerations to keep in mind. Here are some key factors that can help you make an informed decision:

a) Reputation and experience: Before hiring a repair service, it's crucial to research their reputation and experience in the field. Look for customer reviews, testimonials, and online ratings to get a sense of their reliability and quality of service. A well-established repair service with years of experience is more likely to provide efficient and effective solutions.

b) Licensing and certification: Ensure that the repair service you choose is licensed and certified to operate in Sharjah. This ensures that they meet the necessary standards and regulations required to provide reliable and safe services. Additionally, certifications from reputable industry organizations can indicate the technicians' level of expertise and professionalism.

c) Warranty and guarantees: Inquire about the warranty and guarantees offered by the repair service. A reputable service provider will stand by their workmanship and offer warranties on parts and labor. This gives you peace of mind knowing that you're covered in case any issues arise after the repair.

d) Pricing: While cost should never be the sole determining factor, it is important to compare prices and get a clear understanding of the services included in the quote. Be cautious of extremely low prices as they may indicate subpar workmanship or the use of inferior parts.

By considering these factors, you can ensure that you choose the right fridge repair service in Sharjah. A reliable and experienced professional will not only provide effective repairs but also offer excellent customer service.

The importance of maintaining your fridge properly

The maintenance of your fridge is crucial for its longevity and optimal performance. Proper maintenance not only prevents costly repairs but also ensures that your fridge operates efficiently, saving you money on energy bills.

Regularly cleaning the interior and exterior of your fridge helps remove any dirt, dust, and food debris that can accumulate over time. This prevents the growth of bacteria and unpleasant odors. Additionally, defrosting your freezer regularly prevents ice buildup, which can hinder the cooling process.

Checking and replacing the fridge's seals and gaskets is another essential maintenance task. Damaged or worn-out seals can result in air leakage, causing your fridge to work harder to maintain the desired temperature.

It is also important to monitor the temperature settings of your fridge and adjust them accordingly. Improper temperature settings can lead to issues such as frozen produce or accelerated spoilage of perishable items.

By following these maintenance practices, you can extend the lifespan of your fridge and reduce the likelihood of breakdowns. In the next blog section, we will discuss some simple DIY maintenance tasks that you can perform to keep your fridge in top condition. Stay tuned!

Making an informed decision

Now that we have discussed the importance of fridge maintenance and the various tasks involved, let's address the question at hand: Is DIY fridge repair in Sharjah worth the effort?

The answer to this question ultimately depends on your skills, experience, and comfort level with handling appliances. If you have a background in appliance repair or have successfully tackled similar projects in the past, DIY fridge repair may be a cost-effective option for you.

However, it is crucial to recognize that fridges are complex machines with sensitive components. Inaccurate repairs can lead to further damage or even pose safety risks. If you are unsure about your capabilities or if the problem seems beyond your expertise, it is best to seek professional help.

Professional technicians have the knowledge, tools, and experience to diagnose and fix fridge issues efficiently. They can also provide valuable advice on preventive maintenance and offer warranties on their work.

Ultimately, the decision to DIY fridge repair in Sharjah should be based on a thoughtful evaluation of your skills, the complexity of the problem, and the potential risks involved. Consider consulting with a professional before embarking on any repair endeavor to ensure optimal results.

#fridge #fridge repair #fridge repair in sharjah #sharjah #fridge repair in dubai #ajman #uae

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aidenoconnell · 3 years ago

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chess.

It feels like the week drags on, or at least the next four days. That’s the timeline Rickie gave Lucie to get the forty thousand and prove herself to be worthy of Rickie’s little inner circle. Not to mention Aiden’s working on the Canadian contacts which is really just him and August putting themselves into place for when Rickie actually wants to do something about it.

Everything is like a game of chess, strategize and always thinking three or four steps ahead. But Rickie is smart albeit irritating because he does too. So there’s solutions and plans A, B and C with a bunch of what ifs as well. To Aiden, some of those involves what happens if something happens to Luci and he doesn’t know why he feels so fixated on finding solutions to problems that haven’t risen yet.

One day at a time, or at least he keeps telling himself that.

It’s a little bit of a quiet morning as Aiden showers and makes coffee, almost feels like a normal day. Except for the fact that his job takes up a good chunk of his brain. Aiden rubs his eyes and gets a bowl and the box of cereal he likes, milk from the fridge and leans against the counter as he crunches and chews.

Hopefully today goes well for Luci.

#oafpara 6: chess

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mycatismyeditor · 3 years ago

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Zygoat, the E plot I wanted in Supergirl...

Small disclaimer before I go into this, I have not watched every episode of Supergirl. I’m still struggling to finish season two because of the writing and I’ve seen other episodes here and there. So grain of salt for all this in that regard.

That being said…

One of my favourite world building things in any kind of ongoing series is what I tend to think of as the E plot. You’ve got like the overall series mystery or villain plot which is like the A plot, then B plot is like the main character growth or romance, C plot is the secondary character growth thing, D plot is the inter relationship thing among side characters usually the other romance or friendship that’s growing, and then there’s the E plot…

That reoccurring bit of filler that mostly seems to be a dialogue link that has some kind of payoff later, like the swan in Hot Fuzz (or really anything in Edgar Wright movies). Those recurring characters like the cabbage man in Avatar the last Airbender. Or the mystery of how Gibbs gets the boat out of the basement in NCIS. They’re those little bits that make a world feel bigger and the characters lives more real.

Or you can just think of it as the extras or everyday or… entertaining? Look there’s a lot of E words that could apply here and I’m not a professional okay. Key is it’s stuff can be easily cut for time but is also usually really good for showing character interaction or personality and make great callback jokes in later seasons.

In Supergirl, speaking as a writer (debatable claim I know) but I felt like we were missing those E plots. We got a lot of filler but not much of it felt… like actual good E plot world building content type filler. Especially when it came to the DEO and Catco. I dare you to name three agents of the DEO (without looking them up or that aren’t in the main cast). I can name one, Vasquez. Wait two, there’s apparently a Pam in HR, and I know this because it’s the one bit of E plot level world building I remember on the show.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about there it’s from S02E14 the scene where Mon-el announces he and Kara are dating and Alex says they have to watch a video on harassment. I love that bit because that’s exactly the kind of thing you do have to fill out in a workplace even if it is a secret government organisation. It also showed character differences between four of our main cast, and because it immediately made me think of Archer.

Supergirl as a show just felt like a show that needed more E plot, fun callback or world building extras. That extra chaos that the characters could play against. There’s been a few bits here and there (mostly Supercorp scenes from what I've seen) but as a show it often felt like it was really missing… consideration with these things. We needed more time with the characters and seeing them interact instead of moving from plot point to plot point with no added anything. The episodes feel crowded with too much plot that never paid off and not enough… character room. We got plots with the characters shoved into it instead of the other way around a lot of the time. We needed game nights where they talked about the latest villains and references to other people who live and work with the team. That one agent whose desk that's always a mess, or that barista who never gets Nia's coffee order right but he’s cute so she never says anything, or even like the name of Lena’s head of security being mentioned after yet another attack on her life.

Personally I like when there’s lots of little things with connective payoff not just world building extras. Which is why I of course have one of my own because I am a self indulgent fanfic writer and what am I here for if not to find problems with canon and then share my solutions. So thank you if you read this far because it was mostly an introduction to…

Zygoat, the E plot I wanted in Supergirl

Kara arrived at the DEO and found Alex watching as several agents in full biohazard gear took stuff out of a fridge and dropped it into biohazard bags. Kara sniffed and immediately gagged.

“Oh God- what is that smell?” she asked covering her mouth.

Alex sighed.

“Whatever has been in the back of the fridge for ten years.”

Kara gave her a concerned look.

“Last month the biological research team didn’t fill out a request form for a replacement fridge in time. Then instead of coming and telling me when they ran out of space so I could put a rush on their request they decided to use the one in the staff cafeteria without telling anyone, and then they forgot to take it all out when they did get the replacement.”

Kara looked increasingly concerned.

“Today Agent Henderson knocked one of the containers over and an unidentifiable purple goo exploded out of it’s container covering the back of the fridge then started glowing. So of course now the entire fridge is considered contaminated, and we’re going to have to get it scrubbed for any kind of residue before it can be used for food again and apparently Dr Hawler is missing a goat embryo.”

“Why would she have a goat embryo in the lunch fridge?” Kara asked horrified.

“It’s in a little jar she puts it on top of her lunch so no one steals it.”

Kara gagged again.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Normally I would agree, but considering the things I’ve seen removed from this fridge in the last ten minutes, I’d prefer the embryo.”

Kara turned around to not be looking at the fridge.

“Okay so I just came about…”

- J’onn glared at the paperwork in front of him as Kara walked over to Alex.

“Why does J'onn look so… angry?” Kara asked.

“Do you remember that incident with the cafeteria fridge?”

“The purple goo explosion?”

“Yeah, so because we had to throw away everything we told everyone to just put in a reimbursement claim for the cost of their lunches and the DEO would just pay them all back. That turned out to be a mistake…”

Kara gave her sister a sympathetic look.

“Apparently Agent Newman had a quinoa salad and goat cheese gnocchi.”

“Newman?” Kara asked clearly disbelieving. “The guy who thinks lesbians are all vegans, women belong in the kitchen, and once ate a chicken leg out of the bin?”

Alex nodded.

“Yeah, he’s on his final warning by the way, so if you hear him say anything else like that please file a complaint so we can fire him. That’s paperwork I actually do want to fill out.”

Kara saluted to her sister.

“Anyway he’s claiming for forty eight dollars and seventy three cents because he supposedly got it from the vegan cafe on the corner that charges eight dollars for coffee.”

Kara whistled. Alex sifted through some papers.

“And Agent Drew reportedly had a steak for lunch. He wants fifty. I saw at least five ham and cheese sandwiches go into that bin and six tubs of yogurt but apparently only Ned from accounting is honest enough to admit it.”

Alex sighed and looked up.

“So, what did you…”

Mon-el moved quickly out of the way as an agent stormed past.

“What’s his-”

“Lunch thief,” Winn said. “Third time someone has apparently stolen his sandwich this week.”

Mon-el made a face and turned back to Winn.

J’onn stopped and looked down at something beside Winn’s desk.

“Agent Schott what is-”

“Lunch thief protection,” Winn said picking up what looked like a toolbox. “Turns out Agent Smith wasn’t lying. He apparently changed where he put his lunch and so mine got stolen instead. This is my protective measures. It requires a ten digit password and my fingerprint, ain’t nobody stealing my cake today.”

J’onn sighed.

“Well it’s also a trip hazard so put it in the staff room or your locker.”

Winn sighed and left with the box as J’onn turned to the others to continue the briefing.

Kara arrived in a rush and stopped seeing the serious look on Winn and Alex’s faces as they watched something on the screen.

“What are you two doing?” she asked.

“A matter of great importance,” Alex said her eyes still focused on the screen.

“Someone stole her lunch,” Winn said.

Alex punched him.

“Ow!” Winn yelled glaring at her.

“Seriously?” Kara asked laughing.

Alex glared at her.

“Maggie packed it for me. It was clearly labelled and I even put it right at the back so people wouldn’t be able to see it and now it’s missing. I want to know who was dumb enough to steal from me.”

“Okay,” Kara said slowly. “Well once you’re done with that very important mystery I have…”

Kara walked over to stand next to Winn and looking at Alex glaring at an agent.

“What’s happening?”

“Interrogations, the lunch thief is getting bolder. They took three lunches today.”

“Wow!”

“They also did it without getting caught on camera which is kinda impressive.”

Kara nodded as Alex walked over.

Kara approaching Winn as he’s talking with another agent.

“Sorry man. I’ve scanned it for a dozen possible ghost like things and it’s all clean.”

The agent sighed and looked at Kara.

“Has she looked?”

“Looked at what?” Kara asked.

Winn sighed.

“Agent Quinn thinks his locker is haunted.”

“Oh, by what?” Kara asked.

“Agent Newman’s anger poltergeist at being fired.”

Kara made a face.

“I swear there’s something in there. I can hear it but whenever I open it it’s gone,” Agent Quinn said sounding genuinely spooked.

“I’ll have her use her xray vision to check it for you before she leaves. Back to your post now agent,” Winn said getting up and gently pushing the agent away.

“Is he okay?” Kara asked looking after him.

Winn nodded.

“He’s new. I’ll just have him scheduled for a random psych eval. I think he might be struggling with all the alien stuff we handle.”

“Have you found the lunch thief yet?” Maggie asked holding out a pizza to Alex.

Alex made a frustrated noise.

“Whoever they are they’re somehow besting an entire intelligence agency. When we do find out who’s doing it I’m not sure if I should offer them a promotion or shoot them for causing so much trouble.”

Maggie laughed.

“I had a similar problem in a share house once. I laced cupcake frosting with laxatives and left them on the bench with a note saying do not eat.”

“Did it work?” Alex asked.

Maggie shrugged.

“Well I came home and all of my housemates were suffering the affects so I never found out the main culprit. But no one ever stole my food again.”

Alex smiled.

Kara stopped and lowered her glasses looking at the agents hosing out the fridge in the parking lot.

“What happened to the fridge?”

Alex sighed.

“I tried Maggie’s advice… It did not have the anticipated results. So now agents Adams and Brown are cleaning what seems to be very wet animal droppings out of the fridge. Dr Hawler wants to test it for evidence. I’m just starting to think that fridge is cursed. Maybe whatever it is spread to Agent Quinn’s locker.”

Kara gave her a concerned look.

“His shirt was destroyed from inside his locker. No evidence of anyone going near it.”

“What are you doing with… leaves?” Kara asked.

Winn looked at the small box stuffed with leaves.

“Oh we’re going to burn sage in the locker room to try and appease the ghost in Quinn’s locker. Wanna join?”

Kara shook her head.

“No thanks. As tempting as that sounds I’ve gotta finish an article for Snapper about…”

And then we get a mystery payoff filler episode!

Kara comes to the DEO to bring Alex dinner as she doesn’t trust the cursed fridge. Kara makes some comment about no job to big or too small for Supergirl then they hear a scream. They run towards it and see Agent Quinn on the floor of the cafeteria clutching his bloody face.

“Quinn what happened?” Kara asked rushing to the man’s side.

He starts babbling about a monster in the fridge. He just went to get out his salad and then it attacked him. A horrible vicious monster with fangs and flaming red eyes and evil horns. Alex gets out her gun as another two agents run in.

“An agent has been attacked. Lock the building down, no one in or out until we find whatever’s responsible.”

The agents run off. Kara and Lena look at each other and nod.

(Have some kind of main plot discussion as they search)

Then Kara says she can hear something around the corner. Alex nods and Kara flies around the corner diving on the ‘monster’. Alex comes around the corner gun raised and ready.

“Oh Alex, it’s awful,” Kara said turning around smiling and holding a baby goat.

“Goatzilla!” Kara said in mock horror.

Alex lowered her gun with a sigh.

“If that turns out to be Hawler’s missing goat embryo I’m going to have to start believing in the resurrection,” she said.

Kara smiled and hugged the goat.

“Poor baby. You’re not some evil monster are you. You’re just a scared little-”

There’s a loud noise and the goat vanishes in a rush of purple.

“Teleporting goat,” Kara finished.

Insert more Danvers sisters content or just have shenanigans of them trying to find where the goat vanishes to. Which turns out to be Agent Quinn’s locker.

Progress to them running tests on the fridge and locker with Winn. More inter character talk as they run tests on the fridge and Agent Quinn’s locker.

“I told you it was haunted!” Quinn said as another agent bandaged up his head.

Alex sighed.

“By a goat Agent Quinn, not a poltergeist,” she said exasperated.

Results come back and apparently there is some kind of pocket dimension between the locker and fridge that they can’t see or access, but the goat can teleport into at will.

“Is it possible there’s something else in that pocket dimension?” Alex asked.

Winn shrugged.

“No way to tell.”

“So something actually dangerous could just come crawling out of it at any time?” Alex asked.

Winn gave her a look.

“Like, potentially… But it’s unlikely.”

Alex does a long exasperated sigh.

Final scene of the episode has Kara carrying the goat into a containment cell now full of straw with the fridge and locker inside it. She carefully puts it down with a final pat and smile before leaving and closing the door. They all look at the baby goat happily exploring the new enclosure.

“So are we calling her Goatzilla?” Kara asked.

“No,” Alex said immediately.

“Zygoat?” Winn suggested.

Alex and Kara look at him surprised.

“What, you said she was probably Dr Hawler’s embryo. Zygoat totally works.”

Kara looked at Alex.

“Zygoat,” she said with a smile.

Alex sighed and looked back at the enclosure.

“Zygoat,” she agreed.

Later references:

S3:

Kara and Alex talking at the DEO but in the background there’s just two agents with a bale of hay. Then have Winn racing over and slip on the hay to be caught by Kara using superspeed. Then Alex is yelling at Agent Johnson to come sweep up the hay before someone gets injured. They have OHS procedures to follow.

“Supergirl!” Lena said in surprise. “Uh, why do you have pears?”

“Oh they’re for Zygoat. I like to bring her a treat sometimes.”

“Zygoat?”

“She’s a goat in the containment cells. There was a whole thing with a pocket dimension and- You know what nevermind. I was just coming to check about the…”

S4:

Colonel Haley looked at Alex.

“Could you explain to me why I have a prisoner care request for a goat from an Agent Quinn?”

Alex smiled.

“Zygoat,” she answered.

“Excuse me?”

“There was an issue with appropriate storage of alien objects that led to a goat that could teleport between what was at the time the staff fridge and one of the lockers via a pocket dimension. As we cannot determine how big the pocket dimension is, or what else might be in it, we have the goat, fridge, and locker in a containment cell. The goat was named Zygoat at the time and has become a bit of a mascot here. Some of the agents think she might be lonely so would like to adopt a second goat as her a friend.”

Colonel Haley was quiet for a long moment.

“That answers my second question,” she said looking back at her paperwork.

Before Crisis:

“Where were you?” Alex hissed.

“I went to check on Zy and Scape,” Kara replied frowning. “What’s happened?”

(Yes the second goat is called Scapegoat, sue me)

After Crisis:

Kara stopped and looked at Alex.

“Did Zygoat make it?” she asked.

“What?” Alex asked confused. “Oh the immortal teleporting goat, yeah we celebrated her birthday last month with a special cake and everything.”

“Immortal?” Kara asked.

Alex looked at her then nodded.

“Yeah, Lex told us to shoot her when we found her to prevent her bringing anything else from the pocket dimension. The bullet went in, but did not come out, she didn’t even bleed. We think it went to the pocket dimension.”

Kara gave Alex a horrified look.

“I take we didn’t shoot Zygoat in the past.”

Kara quickly shook her head.

“No! We just made a containment cell into an enclosure and adopted a second goat as her friend. I used to bring them pears as a treat on Tuesdays!”

Alex nodded.

“We did all that too, just after the immortal thing was discovered and Lena stepped in to forbid anyone testing her immortality further on the grounds of animal cruelty.”

Kara kept walking.

“That man is…”

S06

“Hey William, have we shown you the goat yet?” Nia said carefully guiding William away.

“The goat?” he asked confused.

“Yeah, she can teleport. It’s really cool. We got her from a secret government facility. It's actually a really weird story.”

#supergirl #kara danvers #alex danvers #lena luthor #j'onn j'onzz #winn schott #the DEO #this show needed better filler #also more danvers sisters fun #and names for the extras at the DEO #I just wanted this show to have more fun is that a crime?#kinda fix it #zygoat the teleporting goat #yes i think about this show far too much #this is just another idea for this show that i can't get out of my head

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youngerdrgrey · 3 years ago

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moments from a wedding // a wildmoore series, part 2

summary: “We sat across that table at The Hold Up, and we said, ‘to different minds, but the same heart.’ You are my heart, and I am so fucking happy to be your wife.” // Or, moments from a wildmoore wedding + read on ao3 (part one here) chapter two summary: Unintentional ring talk does not go the way Sophie would've expected.

🦇

to talking 'bout rings —

Mary’s the one who came up with Bat Team Time Outs — or, bonding nights that were intentionally meant to be about fun and bonding and nobody else in the world. They’ve done karaoke and mini-golf, but Sophie’s favorites are the drinking nights.

Mary usually sits in the solo chair for dramatic effect. She loves to call it the hot seat and stare them all down while they play whichever game she’s chosen. Luke normally sits on one side of the couch while Ryan and Sophie take the other.

But tonight’s seating reminds Sophie of that first drinking night. Back at the loft with Cluemaster’s tequila. Tonight, Ryan tucks herself into the corner of the couch with her legs pulled close. She’s barely touching Sophie. Barely looks at her even.

“Okay, I got one! I got one!” Mary pitches forward a little too far on the couch. She looks a second from toppling over, but her excitement’s magnetic. “Would you rather have an extravagant engagement ring that can never come off or like a simple band that’s removable but it turns your finger green?”

Luke speaks up. “What kind of question is that?” Mary shushes him.

Ryan turns her beer bottle in her hands. “Neither."

Sophie glances over at her girlfriend. “You can’t say neither.”

“I just did.” She shrugs. “Engagement rings are impractical anyway.”

Mary cuts in. “What are you talking about? You wear rings all the time. You’re wearing rings right now!”

Ryan lifts up her hands to show off the silver bands that she wears all the time. The ones Sophie knows intimately. “Bands. Not bulky rings that snag on the batsuit.” She almost sounds defensive.

Sophie turns to Mary. “Ryan has a point. My old rings were too bulky to wear all the time, so I would take them off.” Stuff them in her pockets, or her locker, until Tyler reminded her to put them back on. “Option B it is. I definitely need something a bit more subtle.” She glances down at Ryan’s rings again. “Ryan too, so it can fit under her gloves.”

Ryan’s voice has a slight edge to it as she says, “You’ve got it all figured out, huh?”

Sophie forces a laugh. “You mentioned a problem, and I offered a solution.”

Ryan shakes her head. “It's not a problem. I just don't understand why they matter so much. Or why you need two of them."

Why is Ryan pushing back on this? “Well, one is a promise and one is—“

“Also a promise?”

Luke clears his throat, and Sophie’s reply dies in hers. “I need another drink." He sends a raised brow her way. "Sophie?”

Sophie glances down at her nearly empty beer and nods. “Yeah, I’ll come with you.”

She lets him lead the way from the living room to her kitchen. The best thing about this place is the newfound space. Sophie’s old condo was condensed, and the loft offered no privacy. But here, they don’t have to lower their voices that much to keep a quiet talk between them.

Sophie drops their empty bottles in the recycling and heads for the fridge to grab new ones. Tries to will her mind to stay calm. So what if Ryan’s being weird about rings? Or that things are different recently? They’re fine. They’ve been through weird periods before. It’s probably nothing.

“So…” Luke comes to stand beside her at the fridge, “how are we playing this? Are we pretending like you aren’t planning your engagement or…?”

“I’m not planning. I’m thinking,” she says. He scoffs. She amends. “Thinking ahead. In an organized way.”

He sighs. She sighs and pulls two beers out of the fridge before closing it.

She snags the bottle opener out of the drawer. “You should’ve heard her voice when I brought it up before. She’s not ready. And I don’t want to throw things off.” Well, more off.

Luke nods. “I’ll tell Mary to avoid bringing it up, but you’re gonna have to talk to Ryan and sort it out.”

Sophie pops their beers. “That simple, huh?”

“It could be.” He takes his. “Ryan loves you, so clearly it’s something else. Figure it out, and then you’ll be able to go for it.” He pauses. “Wait, do you want to ask, or do you want Ryan to?”

“Hypothetically…” it’s a quiet night in their home, and it smells like fresh flowers and something warming on the stove. Maybe the moonlight streams in, since so much of their relationship started with the moon above them. Hypothetically, “Ryan asks. I have spent way too much time asking what she wants. It’d be nice for her to do it this time.”

Luke considers that. “Or you can ask for what you want. You get to do that, you know.”

“I do.” She’s also made it clear what she wants. She hasn’t wavered from the moment she kissed Ryan in those woods. “Thank you, though, for caring. And checking on me.”

He grins. “Just remember that when it comes time to choose who’s who in the wedding.”

Now who’s planning? Sophie shakes her head. “Jordan's called dibs on Maid of Honor.”

Luke sucks his teeth. “She did it the first time, and you saw how that wedding turned out.”

A hoarse laugh from Sophie. “That’s different, and you know it.”

His face scrunches. “Is it though?”

Ryan comes into the kitchen. “What are you two laughing about?”

“Jordan,” they say together. Sophie’s appreciative smile is enough of a dismissal for him. Luke clinks the bottom of his beer against hers before heading out of the kitchen. Ryan waits until he’s gone to turn one of her apologetic grins up at Sophie.

“What’d my favorite Moore do now?”

“Invite us to brunch,” Sophie lies, but she can cover it with a quick text later. “She wants us to meet her new boyfriend.”

Ryan cringes. “Please tell me he’s better than the last one.”

“We’ll be the judge of that. Come on.” Sophie starts to head back to their friends, but Ryan stops her with a touch to her left wrist. Soft fingers wind their way down to loop around Sophie’s ring finger.

“You know what’s different?” Ryan starts softly. “When people get tattoos instead of rings.” Sophie’s face drops without her permission. She can handle a lot, but tattoos?

Ryan honestly laughs, so it must be a joke. She pitches up on her toes to kiss Sophie’s frown away. Then kisses her again as their lips find the rhythm they know so well. But even in this kiss, Sophie’s brows knit together.

Sophie pulls back. “I already got a tattoo with you. I’m not getting another.”

Ryan traces the spot where Sophie’s little bat tattoo is. “So you’ll marry me but you won’t get a second tattoo?”

“Yes.” Sophie’s voice is firm. Maybe a little too firm since Ryan pouts. “But you can get one. Or,” Sophie pulls Ryan into her arms, and Ryan sinks into the hold, “we could talk about what's actually bothering you.”

Ryan doesn’t stiffen, which is a good sign, just sinks a little deeper and sighs into Sophie’s chest. “Not today, okay?”

“But soon?”

Ryan nods. “Soon. I promise.”

Sophie reminds herself to be patient. They have their whole lives. It’s fine. They’re fine. Right?

🦇

end of author's note: thanks for rocking with me. as always, talk to me Gotham. what'cha feeling?

read part three

#wildmoore #ryan x sophie #ryan wilder #sophie moore #fic: moments from a wedding #batwoman #mine #mary hamilton #luke fox #luke and sophie #bat team of color

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nanowrimo · 4 years ago

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Organizational Writing Methods for Messy Minds

Long-time Wrimo and soon-to-be published author Anna-Maria Ninnas is a Project Manager with a talent for organizing chaos into coherence. She has been test-driving software to find novel solutions for myriad rampant writerly woes and has put together this comprehensive overview to share some of her best technology-based tips with the community!

Sometimes, you need to put your creativity inside a box.

This couldn’t be more true for writers with a messy mind. The limitless possibilities of a blank page makes me freeze up. However, tell me to create a story out of the magnets on my fridge or using only Cards Against Humanity, and suddenly the limitations of these microcosms give me both a starting point and some rules to activate the brain’s problem-solving function. It takes a shelf to organize your stuff, and the same goes to your writing.

Which is why I love using digital tools and story progression ‘rules’ to find the right crooked mile to weaponize my hyper brain. Today, I’d like to share some of my tricks and digital workspaces with you.

For me, taming my buzzing brain always starts with Trello. I can just move the cards around, like I’m solving a puzzle, which is extremely satisfying and fun. By gamifying the untangling process, I find myself super focused with a visual aid for problem solving. It’s amazing for non-linear thinkers.

Here we have Chapter 6 of my current manuscript, Chamomile. I began the first draft by dumping everything that happens or could happen in this chapter. Just go crazy! If you have more than one subplot going on, you'll love this. For me, Plot A is my young character Chamomile being at war with a vengeful straw doll. Plot B, the village is celebrating a wedding. Later I will ‘braid’ these two plots together, to have the paranormal events of Plot A ruin Plot B by all means possible.

When figuring out the flow, one of my favorite techniques is Therefore/However. It helps to figure the logic and flow of events step-by-step, ensure that consequence always follows, and dictate tension! Sometimes I’ll break the rule with more than one ‘therefore’ consequence, or a ‘meanwhile’ when intertwining a secondary subplot. Keep it as simple as cause-and-effect if you’re still trying to figure out how something could happen and why. Eventually, you’ll have an outline that might or might not look like mine:

You can utilize colored labels for characters, section breaks, or even a green-yellow-red system for every card to track your passive, urgent and action voice.

But let’s say you’re editing or on a #JustFinishIt marathon. Well, your Google account already has all the tools to tame your focus in a single window.

Opening your blessed auto-saving Google Doc, by default you should find the holy trinity of organizing — Calendar, Keep, and Tasks.

I love Keep for its simplicity. If I’m on the go and come up with the perfect line, find inspiration or remember a loophole to edit later, I whip out my phone, save, move on. I use labels only to separate my novels, occasional hashtags.

The beauty of it is that you can use Keep while you’re in Docs. Since you’re guaranteed to get distracted, why not use it to your advantage by choosing what you’re distracted by — like scrolling your own notes in the sidebar instead of Pinterest! Scrolling social media is addicting because with so little movement we get infinite information, barely losing any calories — your brain loves the efficiency. Get addicted to your novel instead!

The search tool is not the only benefit. You can cut-and-paste entire sections that ‘don’t work’, but you like and might adapt elsewhere. Slap them there for safekeeping. You can write down a plot bunny, a topic to research, an important reference to keep in mind for Chapter 23, a new idea or editorial notes. Multitasking is a breeze. Pin the notes you find most relevant right now to the top. Notes you create while in the Doc automatically tags it as ‘related’, so later in Keep you can filter notes related only to that one chapter — which is why I separate my chapters doc-by-doc!

Google Tasks are amazing for editing. You can make the checklist as you re-read after a break, a list for each chapter, so you can later go back and — oh yes — tick the boxes off one by one, knowing exactly what you’re doing, to fix loopholes and add missing elements.

Last but not least is the simple genius of Calendar. If you have multiple plotlines, characters, or maybe even time-travel involved, then the overlapping schedules of Google Calendar—which, yes, you can drag and reorder—is gorgeous. Now, because all these methods are pick-and-choose on a need-to-untangle basis, I wasn’t using it in this chapter much. However, it did come to help when I was trying to figure out the time window just before Chamomile gets into trouble—again—when it was time to leave the bride home alone as a test of patience, to justify how she ended up babysitting instead. (Because you had to go into the storeroom in your wedding dress, Primrose, and now you have to wash the dress. What a convoluted way to break your ankle tonight before your wedding.)

And this is just a recent, as-I-do-it example of some ways I handle my comprehension of my own story! Would you have adapted these tools differently? While it may look over-complicated to some, for me it’s the only way I can tame my head when 'sit down and write' sounds impossible, and I know I’m not alone.

There are many free and subscription apps you can use to organize your writing. Try them, make use of tech! Find your carton ‘box’ that’ll unleash your creativity and help you build forts. Once you discover how that beautiful mind of yours expresses itself and find an analogous method to translate it, trust me, your craft will bloom.

Anna-Maria Ninnas studies anthropology and contemplates humanity through the lens of fiction. A project manager by vocation but extremely unorganized by nature, Anna-Maria tries to hack the art of writing with all sorts of cheats, methods and problem-solving techniques. You can read Anna-Maria’s tips for all the other chaotic creative minds on Medium. The novel Chamomile is coming out April 2022 no matter how messy or unfinished it is! Top photo by Ross Sneddon on Unsplash

#nanowrimo #writing #amwriting #writing tips #organization #writing tools #writing apps #by nano guest #anna-maria ninnas #writing resources #writer's life

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eserve-hyderabad · 3 years ago

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Lg Service in Uppal

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hops-hunny · 4 years ago

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Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: Slightly suggestive flirting, fluff

A/N: This chapter is so cute omg I hope you guys like it <3

“Oh come on (Y/n)! It could be fun!” Twyla called after the girl, who she was currently chasing around the halls of the manors. The tall men in suits watched them but didn’t interact, not sure of what to do in the situation. The (h/c) haired girl ignored her, making lala noises with her fingers in her ear. “Real mature, babes, real mature!” When they got back to the girl’s room, Twyla closed the door, locking it so her friend couldn’t escape. She got on her knees, pleading and begging the girl.

“Twyla I can’t just pick up and go on a trip to Italy!” she shouted, forcing the girl to stand up. The tall girl grabbed her shoulders, shaking her shorter friend in her arms.

“Why nottt?” she whined out. (Y/n) smacked her hands from her shoulders growling some at her.

“A multitude of reasons, Twy! The main one being oh I don’t know, who’s gonna look after my damn bakery!” she hissed out the last part, throwing herself on the large bed, the blonde joining her shortly after. “I’ve got no one to watch the bakery, I don’t have any clothes nice enough to take and even if I did I’d have to travel by floo back home to get them! Also, who’s gonna water my plants? I love my plants, Twyla!” she ranted causing the girl to shush her.

“Relax, you worry too much and there’s a simple fix to all these so-called ‘problems’ you have.” she sat up, pulling the girl up with her. “Let’s start with problem one. You said you have to run the bakery, right?” (Y/n) nodded, curious of where the girl was going with this. “Easy, ask Tiana to run it for a while. She’s been looking to get more hours in since she just bought a house.”

“I can’t ask that of her! Plus, she can’t do all of that with the staff we have now, she’d be understaffed!” she said, watching the girl type away on her phone. She was always so amazed by Twyla’s ability to use muggle technology.

“Well lucky for you, you won’t have to ask her. I just did!” her boss gawked at her, going to tell her off but she continued speaking. “And plus, it’s summer. Do you know how many culinary art students are looking to get hands-on learning in an actual bakery? You don’t handle the application process anyways, Tiana does that. Remember, you stopped doing that because you’d cry any time you had to reject an application.” she made many valid points, slowly pulling her over to the side that wanted to go, wanting to be on a trip with Neville. “Also you’re the only owner who spends so much time working. Isn’t the point of owning a business to make people do shit for you?”

“That’s true.” she sighed, picking at the skin around her cuticles. “But what about my apartment? And my clothes?”

“Don’t you still talk to that old couple that sold the bakery building to you? Ask them to watch your plants!” she retorted, smirking triumphantly. Slowly but surely her reasons for not being able to go were dwindling. (Y/n) sighed before shrugging.

“You know what? Screw it, I’ll go.” Twyla squealed, grabbing the girl’s hand as she dragged her out the door.

“Hey tall man, where’s Neville?” she asked the guard who was posted outside. He cleared his throat, adjusting his sunglasses.

“In his office. Downstairs and to the left, miss. He’s currently in a me-” without another word she grabbed the girl, dragging her downstairs. They reached the large wooden doors that had two large men standing there causing the shorter girl to cower in fear. Their glares were intense as they stood up straighter.

“Can we help you?” one of them asked, his rough voice booming. The other one nodded along, leaning down to her height as he gave her a strong glare, vein on his forehead popping out.

“The boss is in a meeting so unless you’re someone special, get lost.” (Y/n) felt her lip quivering, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Oh you’re fucked buddy, that’s the boss’s girl. Come on, I’ll let you guys in.” an unfamiliar voice said from behind her. Turning around she saw two identical men, quite lanky and tall in stature. She couldn’t help but notice how they favored another certain Ginger she knew.

The one on the left pressed on the small earpiece in his ear, clearing his throat. “Hey boss, your lady friend is out here crying. You should get more observant guards.” he said giggling as a shout could be heard from beyond the large door. The men visibly paled but kept their composure. The door swung open revealing Neville, who adorned a white button up and black trousers, a pair of suspenders connecting the two together.

“I-I’m sorry boss, I didn’t know.” one of them stuttered out, sweat building up on his bald head. Neville gripped his shirt tightly pinning him to the wall causing the man’s feet to lift from the ground. (Y/n)’s eyes widened at the sight. The man he was lifting had a large, muscular build making her wonder just how strong Neville really was.

“If you think that’s something, you should've seen him last night.” Twyla whispered out the corner of her mouth, the twins nodding along in agreement.

“You better listen because I’m gonna say this once.” Neville said, a calm tone which was somehow scary if he was to yell. The man nodded along frantically, wide eyes trained on the man. “That girl right there? She’s my flower. Let it be known that if she sheds a tear caused by any of you, you’re dead and what I’ll do will be worse than anything the Weasley twins could do combined.” and with that he dropped him, walking over to the girl. Weasley twins? So they were related to Ron! She felt her face flush as Neville leaned down, brushing away the tears that had threatened to fall from her eyes. “You alright, love?”

“Yeah I was just coming to tell you that I’ve made a decision. I’ll be joining you in Italy.” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He grinned at her lifting her up in a hug as he spun her around, laughing some. “B-but I don’t have any clothes so I still have to figure that out.” he sat her down, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Just buy new ones when we land.” he declared. She froze, scratching the back of her neck. That would be an easy solution if she hadn’t spent any extra savings she had on the night before.

“I don’t really have the money to do that..”she trailed off. Neville put something in her hands causing her to look down confused. In her hands was a black card, his name engraved in the front of it. “Is this...is this a black card?! I can’t take this. Plus what about you know, “ she cleared her throat, blood rushing to her cheeks and ears. “My undergarments. I don’t have any on me for before we go shopping.” Neville smirked at her words, feeling particularly confident from her flustered expression. She was so soft, so...pure. Anytime he neared her she’d get all warm in the face and anytime he kissed her that same look would double. Temptation was his flower and he was tempted. Hearing her inquire about something that had innocent intent behind it had him thinking about anything but.

“Nonsense, pretty girl. Take my card and for your undergarments..” he trailed off, leaning down next to her ear. He placed his hand around her neck, gently squeezing it as he chuckled. “Let me take care of that. Better yet, let me buy the ones for the trip as well.” he whispered, nibbling the shell of her ear. (Y/n) squeaked, looking at him with wide eyes. Was he doing this on purpose or was it a simple misunderstanding? Either way, she couldn’t stop the heat pooling between her legs. “I’m only messing with you cutie. However I wasn’t kidding, leave that to me.” with a final peck to her lips he stood up straight, adjusting his tie before heading back through the wooden doors, the twins following behind him.

“Nice meeting you (Y/n)!” they said in unison, offering her a smile before they closed the door after themselves.

“You know he totally wants to bang you, right?” Twyla said, causing the girl to glare at her. She held her hands up in defense, looking back at the girl as she began to walk off. “I’m just saying! It’s obvious. You should share a room with him when you go to Italy.”

“Do you..do you think he’d want that? I don’t wanna get in the way of-”

“Are you kidding me?! The man practically worships the very earth you walk on, why wouldn’t he?” Twyla exclaimed as the girl followed her blindly. (Y/n) gasped, looking up at where they were. Around them were large counters on the floor and ceiling. Marble countertops with a matching marble floor along with two large fridges and a state of the art oven. Ignoring Twyla’s rambling, she began to walk through the kitchen, inspecting and exploring every part of it. Her eyes landed on the pantry to which she opened, letting out another surprised noise. It was massive, food lining the walls, all organized to perfection. There was even a walk-in freezer and fridge down the hall!

“Twyla, I’ve gotta use this kitchen. If I don’t bake something in here I’m going to die.” she said, running out to the girl as she began to shake her back and forth. “Quick! Give me an excuse to so I don’t feel bad about messing things up!”

“Ooh! I love excuses! I mean, Neville’s having a meeting so you co-” before she could finish the girl put the kettle on before beginning to pull out various different bowls and ingredients.

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

“Well, do you have security plans?” Neville asked from the end of the table, quirking a brow at the italian man at the end of the table. He noticed even through the man’s fear that he probably didn’t understand what Neville had said fully. “Sorry, um, avete piani di sicurezza?” he asked, causing Blaise to quirk a brow at the man’s fluent italian. Neville rolled his eyes at him before turning his attention back to the man. He nodded, sliding back a file folder filled with papers.

“How long are we going to be there for?” Seamus asked.

“Does it matter? Money is money. Plus it’s not like you have anything important going on in your life, Finnegan.” Draco retorted which resulted in the shorter man growling as he grew red in the face.

“Don’t you dare fucking start. If you’re going to act like fools I’ll replace you with two lower levels in a heartbeat.” Neville gritted, not even looking up from the plans. He looked at the other man next to the italian man. “And you, what’s the exhibit worth exactly? If there’s no high hitting items we can already consider this a dud.”

“U-um. It’s estimated that it’s worth over 1.5 million, sir.” he responded, gulping as he reached for the water they had given him with a shaky hand. However, Neville wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“Listen, did I ask you what it’s estimated to be? I asked for the exact cost. If you only have estimates then how bout I est-” he was interrupted by light knocking on the door. “Who is it now?! J-just come in.” he said, huffing out. The door opened followed by a quiet set of footsteps causing the inner circle of men to smile, giggling some. Curiosity got him, causing him to turn around, his expression instantly softening. “Petal? What are you doing here, angel girl?” he asked, pulling her closer but being careful of the large tray in her hand.

“I thought you might want some snacks for your little meeting. I hope there’s enough for everyone.” she said, setting the tray down on the table. It was funny really, comical, the way the doily and flower covered tray contrasted with all the men in the room. On the tray was a large array of different foods. Scones, tea biscuits, even tea sandwiches. In the center was a beautiful antique floral teapot along with matching cups.

“This looks amazing, princess!” he exclaimed, his stomach grumbling in agreement. She giggled at that, causing his ears to tint pink. “There’s most certainly enough. Go on fellas, don’t be-” before he could continue the men began to grab at the food, swooping in like vultures.

“Oh my god, this is like heaven!” Seamus moaned out, bits of sandwich falling from his mouth. Ron nodded along in agreement, a bunch of unintelligible words leaving his mouth. Even Blaise was wide eyed as he sipped at the tea, taking a bite of his tea biscuit.

“Yeah, is there any more of this? What kind of tea is this? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of having it before.” he said, taking another sip. She looked at them sheepishly, leaning into Neville’s embrace.

“It’s butterfly pea tea infused with strawberry and honey. Also there’s more of everything! I kinda went overboard.” she responded. Neville smiled, grabbing her hand before placing a kiss on top of it.

“Well thank you, I really appreciate it. You’re so lovely.” he muttered, turning her hand to place a kiss on her palm before proceeding to do the same all up her arm. She giggled some at the action, looking away from him shyly.

“Well I better get going before Twyla buys more stupid things with Draco’s black card.” she turned once as she got to the door. “Good luck with your meeting!”

Neville sighed happily before turning back around, looking at the men at the table before them. He grabbed whatever scraps the ravegers had left, eyeing everyone intensely. “What?” he spat out angrily.

“Mate you are so whipped!”

PREVIOUS||NEXT

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#neville longbottom x you #neville x you #neville longbottom x reader #Neville Longbottom #neville x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #mafia!neville #mafia!au #mafia

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vanilla-bean-buttercream · 5 years ago

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I Got Outsmarted by a Thirteen-Year-Old

Pairings: N/A Characters: Remy, Logan, Emile, Janus Chapter warnings: Implied child abuse, bruises, blood, imprisonment, loss of consciousness, anxiety attacks, threats of violence, if you’re reblogging on mobile you might have a bad time Word Count: 8,785

Summary:

“Remy, it’s four in the fucking morning,” Janus growled. “Are you serious right now?”

“Are you serious right now?” Remy shot back. “That kid, Logan, what the fuck was up with that?”

Janus blinked stupidly. He descended the rest of the stairs. A yawn escaped his lips, and he stretched his arms over his head.

“Remy, you told me you were fine with kidnapping the kid,�� Janus grumbled.

“Yeah, I was,” Remy snapped back, “but I don’t think I kidnapped him. I think I fucking rescued him.”

Ao3 Link

Remy read and reread the name printed on the paper. This couldn’t be right. He heard of this kid. What could a kid have possibly done to the boss that would’ve warranted his kidnapping?

Logan Star, a thirteen-year-old prodigy child, was the next on Remy’s hit list, and Remy had no clue why.

From what Remy saw in the papers and on Logan’s YouTube and Twitter pages, the kid was a genius. He was reading chapter books by the time he was four, and he was offering scientific solutions to problems even adults couldn’t fix. From the content of his tweets, he looked like a model citizen, never getting political or showing any connection to the crime boss whatsoever.

So, why was Janus interested in a kid prodigy?

Remy sighed and looked out his car window. Oh well. He didn’t make the rules; he just followed them. That’s what got him this far anyway.

After driving for 10 minutes, the car pulled off the road and parked across a polished white suburban home. It looked completely normal. The red rose bushes hugged the side of the house, and a neatly trimmed green lawn presented several birdbaths. Why so many, Remy would never know, but there couldn’t have been a dirty bird anywhere within the town.

Remy glanced at his car clock. 2:32 am. The streetlight above him flickered a bit, and Remy wondered if that was a signal to do his job. With a deep breath, Remy opened his car door and exited the vehicle.

Silent as a whisper, Remy traveled across the street and stopped in the shadow of the house. A dog barked in the distance as police sirens sounded. Remy prayed it wasn’t meant for him. He scooted along the backside of the house and found a window at his level. Using a tool to quietly slide it open, Remy entered the house and began his search.

The kitchen, from what Remy could tell, looked painfully boring. Steel electronics everywhere. Not a cup out of place. Not a picture on the fridge. The tiled floor showed Remy’s reflection in the low light.

To his left was what Remy assumed was the dining room. A volcano stood on the table, as well as several other scientific objects Remy couldn’t be bothered to learn the names of. A camera stood at the opposite end of a blank wall. The table looked like it hadn’t been cleaned from the last filming session, baking soda dusting the floor and the scent of vinegar burning Remy’s nose.

Remy steered clear of the dining room and headed toward the stairs of the second floor. To his surprise, the floor didn’t squeak. He took two stairs at a time, his heart pounding in his chest.

The second floor is where Remy started to get unnerved. People lived in this house, right? If so, why were there no family photos on the walls? Why weren’t there sounds of snoring from dear old parent bear? Why was nothing making a sound?

Remy chased the goosebumps from his arms. He held his breath and opened the first door to his right.

Remy noticed the bathroom first and the smell second. That was a very heavy scent of blood. Did someone have their period and forget to flush or something? No, there were stains on the sink and floor. Remy held his breath. With a thick swallow, Remy closed the bathroom door and took a deep breath.

From there, Remy traveled a little farther up the hallway. He opened the next door.

This room looked a little more normal. It looked like a simple office. The computer blinked in the corner, an expensive one by the look of it, followed by several home equipment pieces for working out. The stench of sweat hung in the air, or maybe it was absorbed into the carpet. Remy was about to leave when he noticed a rather dark stain on the floor. He cautiously flipped on the light and took another deep breath in. Blood. Again. This one looked like bleach tried to erase its existence, but it was still there.

Remy turned off the light and closed the door. He shivered. What was going on in this house?

As Remy approached the next door, he found his first sign of life. A low hum could be heard above him. Must’ve been the air conditioning. A quiet turn of the door handle showed a master bedroom. The walls had all sorts of awards on it, all with Logan’s name on them. A YouTube diamond play button hung over the headboard, still addressed to Logan. The desk on the other side of the room had papers upon papers stacked upon them. The bed, surprisingly, was empty. Whoever lived in this room wasn't home.

Remy tiptoed inside the room. He picked up one of the papers. Oh, this is what his boss wanted. The paper in Remy’s hand said these people owed over 100K of unpaid debt in his boss’s name. Why would parents of a child prodigy YouTube star be this low on cash? Remy shrugged and put the paper back down. Come to think of it, where were Logan's parents?

As Remy looked around, he noticed things that were probably not Logan's, like the closet full of huge women's shoes and the wardrobe full of adult-sized suits. A box of expensive jewelry sat next to a box of bullets. Remy opened one of the drawers up in curiosity and was horrified by a bloody knife. Next to it was a report card with straight A's- no there was one B. Remy almost didn't notice through the dark red thumbprint.

Something about this house was starting to scare him, and Remy didn’t get scared easily.

Remy closed the door to the parent’s bedroom and let out a breath he didn’t know he held. From there, he went to the last room in the house. This had to be Logan’s room. Remy twisted the door handle and opened it.

A closet. The last room… was a closet? But that couldn't be right. Where was Logan then?

Remy took a step back. Maybe he had the wrong house. Wouldn’t be the first time he walked into the wrong people’s house and scared the accidental shit out of them. He paused. No, those plaques on the wall were definitely addressed to Logan Star.

So, where was the kid?

Remy backed up, and something brushed the top of his head. He gasped and turned to strike whatever attacked him, teeth bared and hand on his gun.

A string.

Remy deadpanned. All that fuss over a string hanging from the ceiling. Remy sighed and looked up. The ceiling had a bolt across the top of it to keep it closed. Must’ve been an attic or a crawlspace or something like that.

A stone of dread landed in Remy’s stomach, but he chased it away. No, that couldn’t be where Logan was.

Could it?

Remy steeled himself for anything and unlocked the bolt on the ceiling. A folded ladder gently swung down to greet him. Remy steadied the wood and crept up. The heat in the attic brought fresh sweat to Remy’s skin. The humming from earlier grew louder, and Remy realized that wasn’t the air conditioner at all, but what sounded like an electric fan.

Remy’s head surfaced through the ceiling hole. The attic had one window to light the space around him, an octagon window with a plus sign shaped bar running vertically and horizontally across it. Why Remy didn’t know. It looked like only a child could get through it, and even then, it was a three-story dropdown. Boxes scattered across the room filled with anything from old Christmas decorations to baby toys. The floor was made of hardwood, and the ceiling didn’t give Remy much room to stand, which considering Remy stood at five feet two inches, didn't give most people much room to stand at all.

At the far side of the attic, the silhouette of someone laying on the floor came into view. The mattress didn’t have a box spring or a frame but instead laid on the dusty floor on its own. The electric fan pointed directly down at the person sweating through the summer heat. Not even a blanket covered them. Their back was turned to him.

Remy’s heart sunk. That better be a person these people kidnapped and stuck up here instead of Logan.

As Remy approached, his fear didn’t disappear. The kid looked just like the internet sensation. Remy avoided the glasses neatly folded on the floor so he wouldn’t break them. He gazed down at the kid for about a minute. This couldn’t be real. This had to be a sick joke. There was no way these people locked a thirteen-year-old in a hot basement with nothing but the bare essentials, was there?

Remy took the bag off his shoulders and gently set it on the floor. His heart pounded in his ears. He didn’t know if it was through excitement or anger at this point, and really, he couldn’t care right now. He pulled the cloth filled with chloroform out and chewed on his lip.

Three. Two. One.

Remy covered both Logan’s mouth and nose. Of course, Logan woke right up. The kid let out a startled cry and tried to squirm out of Remy’s grip, but Remy pressed his hand into Logan’s chest to stop him.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Remy tried to soothe, as he always did. “It’s gonna be over soon.”

Hands latched onto Remy’s arm, and fingernails scratched at Remy's leather jacket. Logan’s eyes glistened in the light of the moon. Logan kicked and squirmed, but Remy had the upper hand, literally. After a few minutes, Logan’s body succumbed to the chloroform at last, and Remy released the pressure on Logan’s chest and mouth.

Alright, the kid was unconscious. Now, how the hell was he supposed to get him out of here?

Remy groaned as he thought of picking up the kid. To his surprise though, Logan lifted easily in his arms. His breath caught as he counted every rib under his fingertips. Remy swallowed hard. Logan couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds, which was rather scary for a kid that stood at five feet six inches. Remy quietly appeased his mind by saying some people were naturally underweight but healthy, but the scenes he walked in on made him worry that wasn’t the case.

Remy slung Logan over his shoulder and crawled back down the wooden ladder. Step. By step. By painfully slow step. Remy made his way down the wood. Logan didn’t stir, and when Remy’s foot hit the bottom floor, he thanked anyone watching out for him that he didn’t drop Logan. From there, Remy switched Logan to his arms in a bridal style carry.

It took no time at all to get Logan in the back of his car. He opened the back door and set Logan down in the seat.

The car light illuminated Logan’s situation perfectly. Logan’s arms, which Remy now realized were always covered in long sleeves during his videos, had deep brown handprints engraved into his skin. His neck, always pressed in a collar tied by a tie, housed choke marks. Remy couldn’t just feel Logan’s ribs, he could see them peeking out from under Logan’s loose white shirt too.

Remy locked Logan’s seatbelt and closed the car door before he could get sick. He opened the driver’s side door and collapsed into his seat. For a moment, Remy stared at Logan’s reflection in his back mirror. He didn’t look away until the lights overhead turned off. Broken from his trance, Remy turned on the car and drove off towards their headquarters. Horrible thoughts passed Remy’s mind, but he sped by them each and every time. However, one question kept coming to his mind and burned in the back of his brain.

Did Remy just kidnap this kid or rescue him?

When Remy arrived at the base, he still carried Logan’s sleeping form in his arms. People didn’t pay much mind to him. Remy carrying an unconscious body into headquarters was never anything new. However, the pure rage on his face made everyone naturally steer clear anyway.

Remy spied his target. He stormed toward him, his teeth clenched and eyes glaring over the top of his sunglasses.

Emile turned just in time to have ninety pounds of unconscious child dropped into his arms.

“Remy, what-”

“Where’s Janus? I need to talk to him.”

Emile’s glasses slid down his nose a bit as he answered, “He should be asleep in his room. Why?”

Remy walked past, ignoring Emile calling after him. He did, however, order, “Get the kid some water and a fucking snack, would you?”

The office door to Janus’s room, which was under a strict “knock if you don’t want to get shot” rule, swung open with a loud bang. The desk was empty. Janus must’ve retired to his home above the office.

“Janus!” Remy shouted. “Janus, get the fuck down here. You and I need to have a chat.”

Shuffling above Remy’s head warned him of Janus’s presence. Remy heard Janus’s feet creeping down the stairs.

“Remy, it’s four in the fucking morning,” Janus growled. “Are you serious right now?”

“Are you serious right now?” Remy shot back. “That kid, Logan, what the fuck was up with that?”

Janus blinked stupidly. He descended the rest of the stairs. A yawn escaped his lips, and he stretched his arms over his head.

“Remy, you told me you were fine with kidnapping the kid,” Janus grumbled.

“Yeah, I was,” Remy snapped back, “but I don’t think I kidnapped him. I think I fucking rescued him.”

That woke Janus a little more. He studied Remy for any signs that Remy was joking but disappointedly met an uncharacteristic seriousness. Janus folded his arms.

“Explain.”

“Well, first off, the kid weighs like nothing. I swear, babe, he wouldn’t be a hundred pounds soaking wet. Anyway, I found the kid locked in a hot ass attic with bars on his window. Fucking bars! And that’s not even the best part. No, the best part is when I finally get the kid to my car, and it looks like someone beat him up before I could get there. The kid’s covered in bruises.”

Janus stayed silent though Remy’s angry tirade, his eyes wide and lips parted in surprise.

“And don’t even get me started on the fucking house. Oh, no, this house was just 100 percent bad vibes. There was blood all over the place, and it looked like no one lived in it at all, like it was a television set. The fuck is wrong with these people? Who are they? And how long before I can murder them?”

“Alright, Remy, calm down,” Janus ordered. His hands raised from his side to quell the fuming man in front of him. He gnawed on his lip and sighed through his nose. “You can’t murder them anyway until we get our money.”

“What?”

“You’ve kidnapped dozens of kids. You know how this works.”

“You mean after all this, you��re still willing to let the kid go back to that shithole?”

Janus hesitated. He watched Remy’s chest rise and fall as Remy took deep breaths through his nose. His lips were curled into a snarl, teeth bared and ready to bite. Janus hadn’t seen him this pissed since Remy walked in on Cass being raped.

After a long sigh, Janus said, “I’ll take a look at the kid in the morning. For now, let the poor thing rest. He’s had a rough night.”

“More like a rough fucking life,” Remy grumbled. He said a quick ‘night boss’ before exiting and slamming Janus’s office door closed a little harder than he intended to.

Janus stayed still for a moment. If what Remy said was true, it would be a miracle the Star family was alive to even be paying him back. Janus sighed and returned up the stairs. He put his eye mask back on, flipped over in his bed, and tried not to think too hard about the events that just unfolded.

He’d deal with this mess when he had a fresh cup of coffee.

Logan’s senses came back to him one by one. The first thing he noticed was how much his head hurt. He tossed over onto his side. The mattress below him was soft, way too soft, and the blanket over him felt smooth and cool like silk. His ears picked up on soft humming somewhere in the corner of the room. It sounded light and nurturing, like a lullaby on a stormy night.

Logan blinked his eyes open. The blurry wall of a pink-painted bedroom greeted him. Logan’s chest hurt, but he knew that already. He gathered enough strength to roll onto his back. Pain erupted through his ribs, and Logan let out a soft moan.

The humming stopped, and Logan held his breath.

“Well, good morning there, kiddo,” a gentle voice, way too gentle to belong to either of his parents, greeted.

Logan’s head snapped to the side, and he regretted it in an instant. His head spun, and he squeezed his eyes closed to try and compensate.

“Hey, take it easy. I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice spoke again, soft like it was trying to comfort a startled animal.

“Who are you?” Logan asked. “Where am I?”

“My name is Emile, and you’re safe.”

Safe?

Logan opened his eyes once again. This person, Emile, held out Logan’s glasses to him. Logan blinked and put the glasses back on his face. The man in front of him had bright green eyes, pale freckled skin, and a smile that could melt butter. His hair was brown, except for the pink fluff of hair that pillowed his head, and his glasses were round like a grandfather’s. He wore a sweater vest and pink tie with blue and white stripes on it, and his soft pink dress shirt poked out of the top.

“Emile?” Logan questioned.

“That’s right. And you must be Logan Star.”

Logan’s heart pounded. The last part of Emile’s previous answer echoed in his mind. Safe. Someone broke into his house, kidnapped him, and called this safe? Logan sat up fast, but dizziness knocked him back into the wall beside him.

“Whoa, easy there champ. Take some deep breaths. Coming out of chloroform is never easy,” Emile coaxed. He passed a bottle of water over. “Here, drink this.”

“How do I know it isn’t poisoned?” Logan asked.

“That’s a pretty fair question. I can’t really tell you. You’re just going to have to trust me, kiddo.”

Logan eyed the water bottle, then Emile, then the bottle again. His throat begged for a drink, but Logan didn’t trust it. He retreated in on himself and swallowed hard.

“Alright, I get it,” Emile said. He put the bottle on the nightstand and nodded his head. “You don’t have to drink right now if you don’t want to. I’d be pretty scared too if I woke up in a strange place with no memory of how I got here.”

Logan chose to say nothing and instead stared at Emile through the corner of his eye. Emile stood and went back to… whatever he was doing at his desk. His hand glided across a written book of records. Every once and awhile, he’d bring the pen up to nibble on the tip of it.

Logan thought for a moment before he asked, “Why am I here?”

Emile’s head snapped up. He laughed, his shoulders shaking slightly, and responded, “I don’t really know. All I know is you were placed in my arms, and I was told to take care of you.”

“Take care of me? As in… kill me?”

“No!” Emile’s shout made Logan flinch. Emile lowered his voice and added, “No, Logan, I wasn’t asked to kill you. I was asked to get you something to drink and a snack.”

“Oh.”

Emile grabbed a small package of crackers on his desk, and he walked back toward Logan. Logan couldn’t help but press his back against the wall. Emile stopped at an arm’s distance and held out the package of food.

“It’s not much, but it’s still something.”

Logan eyed the package and then looked at Emile. “I’m allergic to peanut butter.”

“Oh! Well, I think we have other packages in the kitchen. What do you like better? Chives and onion or cheese?”

“Chives and onion will do.”

“Alright, I’ll be right back.”

Emile exited the room. The door to his room closed, but the latch stopped it from closing all the way. It popped back open and left a crack to escape.

Logan jumped from the bed and peeked out the door. The hallway was long, way too long to belong to a home, and had tile flooring and plain white walls. Fluorescent lights flickered above him. Logan stepped onto the tile floor and shivered. His bare feet didn’t appreciate the cold, but he would have a better chance now of escaping than he would later.

Slowly, Logan traveled down the hall. His heart pounded in his chest. Where was he, and how did he find a phone to call for help?

No one passed him in the hall. Logan glanced at the watch on his wrist. Six in the morning. If he were home right now, he’d definitely be awake. Logan shuddered at the thought and kept going. Once he got out of here, he was going to run as far away from all this as he could, home and everything.

“Hey.”

Logan froze solid. He didn’t want to, but all his nerves locked up. Logan’s eyes darted around for a place to hide. He spied a door with a round handle and tried to open it.

“Hey!”

Locked. Of course it was locked. Logan turned around, his eyes wide with panic. As the person approached, Logan slid down the door, balled up into a fetal position and covered his head.

“I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me,” Logan begged.

“Shit, no, I wasn’t gonna- hey, kid, it’s okay. Fuck I ain’t- I’m not gonna hurt you, okay?”

Logan couldn’t relax enough to look up. When a hand pressed to his shoulder, he couldn’t stop the scream from tearing through his throat. The hand retracted like Logan burned it, thankfully, and for a moment, Logan tried to catch his breath. Tears blinded his vision.

“Hey, breathe, okay? You gotta, you got- shit I’m not good at this. Hey! Someone get Emile for me would ya?”

Logan heard more feet shuffling, as well as a language he couldn’t understand. French? Italian? Some kind of romantic language, he was sure.

It was a few minutes before Logan was even able to relax enough to look up at the guy. Dark sunglasses, a leather jacket- this looked just like the guy he saw before he passed out. Logan leaned away as far as he could and curled in on himself tighter.

“Remy, what’s wrong?” Emile’s voice asked. A beat skipped before Emile whispered “oh” and more footsteps approached.

Logan couldn’t help the whimper in his throat. His body started to shake, even though there was no logical reason he should be afraid of either Remy or Emile right now. Well, other than Remy knocking him out, kidnapping him, and sticking him in this place.

Emile's voice coaxed, “Alright, Logan, I’m going to need you to look around and tell me some things you see.”

Logan couldn’t move his head from its locked position between his knees.

“Logan?”

“Can’t,” was all Logan could answer.

“Alright, how about some breathing exercises? In seven, hold four, out eight. Can you do that one?”

Logan barely shook his head no.

“Alright, would it help if Remy and I gave you some space?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Logan shook his head yes.

Logan heard feet moving away from him. He took a few deep breaths in to calm himself. Still shaking, Logan’s eyes slowly drifted up. Remy and Emile moved a good ten steps away from him and watched from a safe distance. Logan’s body didn’t stop shaking, but at least he could look up.

“Holy shit,” he heard Remy whisper. Remy’s mouth was pulled into a tight line, his fists visibly shaking. Logan couldn’t take his eyes off him. Remy continued, “I’m gonna kill them.”

Emile didn’t answer. Logan worried about what that meant for him, but he didn’t feel brave enough to ask.

Emile’s voice guided him away. “Logan, we’re not going to hurt you. Why don’t we go back to my room, and we’ll talk over the pack of crackers, okay?”

Logan thought for a moment. He still didn’t know if he could trust either of them, but he was trapped. He couldn’t move to run, and he had no idea where he was or if he could even escape.

Slowly, Logan nodded his head. Emile waited for Logan to stand, never making a move to touch or grab him. Neither did Remy. Logan could feel the anger rolling off Remy like a tidal wave, but he didn’t make any moves to hurt Logan at all. Logan still steered clear from the fuming man.

Eventually, the trio made it back to Emile’s room. Remy and Emile shared a look of pity before Remy closed Emile’s door.

“Why don’t you go have a seat on the bed,” Emile said. He held the pack of crackers out for Logan to take.

Logan didn’t respond. Instead, he took the crackers, sat cross-legged on the bed, and stared at the package of food in his hands.

“Oh, and I didn’t know if you were still thirsty or not, but here,” Emile added on as he held out a box of juice. Logan curled up his nose. Emile lightly laughed and continued, “I’m sorry if apple isn’t your favorite. It was the last one we had in the fridge.”

Still, Logan took it. He tried to pace himself with the crackers, to not show how weak he was to hunger right now, but he had the whole package finished before Emile could start on his second cracker.

“When was the last time you ate?” Emile asked.

Instead of answering, Logan jabbed his straw into his juice box. He sucked on the straw until there was no more juice inside. His eyes darted around for a trash can, and he found one sitting by Emile’s desk. No way was he getting up that close.

Emile must’ve noticed because he grabbed the trash can. He held it in front of him, the top slightly leaning in Logan’s favor, and said “throw it.”

Logan eyed the garbage can, Emile, then the garbage can again. He crushed the juice box in his hand and gave it a throw. It missed. Badly. The juice box skittered across the floor and thunked against the wall well out of the garbage can’s reach. Logan’s ears burned with embarrassment.

“I’m not good at throwing,” Logan mumbled.

“Hey, that’s okay.” Emile got up and grabbed the empty box. It thunked into the garbage can, and Emile put the garbage back in its place. “I was never good at sports either.”

Logan crumbled the wrapper for the crackers in his hand. He knew throwing it wouldn’t make it anywhere close to the garbage can, and so did Emile because he never asked Logan to throw it. Instead, the two gentlemen sat and stared at each other. Emile swiveled back and forth on his computer chair, his teeth gnawing at his lip.

“Hey, you like cartoons at all?” Emile asked.

Logan sighed through his nose. There were a million answers he could give to that, but he mumbled, “I don’t.”

“Oh,” Emile said as his glasses slid down his nose a bit. He put them back. “That’s okay. What do you like?”

Logan thought for a moment. He glanced around Emile’s room, and his eyes landed on a colorful board game in the corner. It definitely wasn't chess, but it caught his interest somehow. Logan tried to speak, but his voice locked in his throat. Instead, he pointed.

Emile followed Logan’s signal, and a smile pulled on his lips. “You like board games?”

Logan nodded his head.

Emile stood from his computer chair, and Logan tried not to run. He stared at Emile as the older man grabbed the colorful board game and brushed it off.

“I haven’t played Candyland in forever,” Emile said, his eyes still on the game. He looked up at Logan. “Do you want to play on the floor or on the bed?”

“Floor,” Logan replied.

Emile started unpacking the game, and Logan watched as Emile shuffled cards and grabbed four pieces from the box.

“What color do you want to be? Do you want red, yellow, green, or blue?”

“Blue, please.”

Emile sighed through his nose. “Ah yes, blue. The color of the sky and the sea, open spaces, freedom, intuition, imagination, inspiration, and sensitivity. Also trust, loyalty, sincerity, wisdom, confidence, stability, faith, and intelligence.”

Logan could only blink at that.

Emile put the blue piece at the start position. His fingers danced over the remaining colors. “What color should I be?”

Logan thought for a minute. Green, yellow, or red? After some quiet contemplation, Logan responded, “Yellow.”

Emile hummed. “Ah, yes, the color of sunshine, hope, and happiness. It’s kind of got a double meaning. On one hand, it’s intellect, honor, loyalty, and joy, but on the other, it represents cowardice, caution, sickness, and deceit. I’m guessing you don’t know what to think of me yet, do you?”

Logan shook his head no, his lips parted in shock. How had Emile been able to guess all that with just a color piece?

“Do you know how to play?” Emile asked. Logan shook his head no. “That’s okay. I’ll explain it to you.”

Logan listened to Emile explaining piece by piece. It was a simple game of luck from what Logan could gather. No skill was needed at all. There were traps and tricks, but nothing that required any wit to get out of.

“And if you get to the top here first, you win,” Emile finished.

“What happens if I win?” Logan asked.

“What do you want to happen? Do you want to go home?” Logan flinched at the suggestion. Emile’s breath caught, and he continued to shuffle the card deck in his hands. “Home life wasn’t great, huh?”

Logan swallowed thickly and shook his head.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Emile coaxed. “I mean, my home life wasn’t exactly the best either, so I get it.”

Logan’s eyebrow popped up in interest. He didn’t want to pry, but the thought of someone knowing what he was going through interested him. If Emile wanted to continue that line of thought, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he placed the cards down on the floor and looked up at Logan expectantly.

Oh, right, if Logan wanted to play, he’d have to get closer.

“I can move you and draw cards for you if you don’t want to,” Emile offered.

Logan’s body relaxed, and he nodded his head.

“Okay, that’s okay. I’ll move you first.”

Emile drew card by card, letting Logan see the results every time. Logan’s eyes followed as Emile moved his piece without cheating. Eventually, Logan found himself on the floor against the bed. Then a little closer. And a little closer. His legs pressed up against the edge of the board. Emile made no move to grab or otherwise suggest he was going to hurt Logan at all.

When it was his turn, Logan drew a card from the deck. He spied the color he got. Red. Stop. Freeze. Run. Danger. His eyes popped up to Emile.

“So, what did you get, kiddo?” Emile asked.

“Red.”

“Oh, good! You’re almost at the top,” Emile informed. Logan looked down at the game. Only one more color and Logan would win. Emile continued, “Did you figure out what you wanted to win yet?”

Logan’s head popped back up. He watched Emile for a moment before he finally formed his answer. “I want to speak to your boss.”

Emile’s eyes widened. His glasses slipped down his nose a bit, and Emile pushed them back up. After some thought, he responded, “I can see if Janus would talk to you.”

Janus. The name rang a bell in Logan’s head, but he couldn’t place where. He watched Emile for a moment as Emile drew his own card. Emile moved his piece accordingly, and he waited for Logan to make his move. Logan drew. Purple. The last color.

“I win,” Logan said.

Emile laughed and slapped his hands onto his knees. “Way to go, kiddo! Do you want to play again?”

Logan stared blankly at him. Emile fidgeted in his spot. Logan answered, “We had a deal.”

“Right, uh, okay.” Emile’s shoulders shook. “I should’ve made you tell me what you wanted before we started to play.”

Logan’s courage surfaced, and he responded, “But you didn’t, and I won. I want to speak to your boss.”

Emile’s eyes warily observed Logan. After a moment, Emile sighed and stood. He dusted off his pants legs and said, “Alright, Logan, we can go see him.”

Logan was on his feet before he realized what happened. Emile’s light laugh of amusement followed him to the door. Logan spied the garbage can and dumped his discarded wrapper from his crackers inside the bin. Emile held the door open so Logan could leave first, and the two of them traveled down the long hallway.

From what Logan could tell, this looked just like a hotel. There were rooms with numbers on them, some locked and some ajar. Pictures and decorations hung on the wall. Some spiders made their homes in the corners, but other than that, there wasn’t a speck of dust around. A man mopped the floor with headphones in his ears, but he didn’t pay any mind to Emile or Logan.

Emile pressed the button for the elevator, and Logan watched the numbers descend. It hit the third floor, and the doors swung open. Emile went in first, and Logan followed. The star button lit up, and Logan waited for the elevator to rise.

Three floors passed them before they reached the floor they wanted to.

When the doors opened, the sounds and sights of a busy office greeted them. A few people stopped their work to stare, some even said hello, and some continued as if this was a normal everyday thing. Surprisingly, Logan didn’t mind the attention. It was nothing like the pure idolization he got on the street. It was natural, normal, something he was very much not used to.

The door at the end of the hall had a glass window with the words “Janus Escamas” written on them. Logan swallowed. Emile knocked to the rhythm of “shave and a haircut” and waited.

“Enter,” the buzzer on the door answered.

Emile took one last glance at Logan before he swung the door open. He held the door, motioning for Logan to enter. Logan hesitated for a minute before his feet followed the orders.

The room inside had hardwood floors, white walls, and one window with blinds covering it. At least one plant housed every corner. Several pictures lined the walls, each with people that Logan didn’t recognize. A college certificate in business was next to a man receiving a diploma. The desk in the center was made of solid oak if Logan had to guess. A computer blocked the view of the person behind it, and a bag of chips rustled as the owner took a bite.

“Janus, there’s someone here to see you,” Emile announced. Logan felt all the courage drain from his body, but a gentle hand on his shoulder reminded him Emile was still there.

The man behind the computer stood. Logan felt bad, but his eyes immediately went to the burn scar covering the entire left side of the man’s face, as well as his neck. He had a bowler hat on, like what a villain from early cartoons would wear, a black suit, a white dress shirt with a yellow tie, and neatly pressed yellow gloves. As he walked toward them, Logan noticed his left eye was a lighter shade of brown than the other.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Logan Star,” this man, Janus, said.

Logan could only swallow and press his back into Emile’s stomach.

“Logan wanted to meet you,” Emile said for him.

“Did he now?” Janus said. His eyes traveled up and down Logan’s body, and for a moment, Logan worried Janus would hurt him. “I’m sure he has a lot of questions, like why he’s here and what I plan on doing to him.”

Logan opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it soon after.

“I’m sure you’re aware of your father’s gambling problem, aren’t you?”

Logan nodded his head.

“Well, your dear old father borrowed a lot of money from me to feed his addiction, and he’s taking his dear old time repaying me. I’m starting to get impatient. So, I’ve offered him a deal. If he wants his money-making son to come back and give him a paycheck, he’s going to pay me back the 3 million dollars he owes me.”

“Three million?” Logan’s lips floundered. “My father would-”

“Never borrow that much money?”

“Never pay that back,” Logan mumbled.

“He’ll pay it back if he wants you back.” Janus watched Logan for a reaction. “I mean, you are his only source of income, aren’t you?”

Logan’s head snapped up at that. Janus’s lips were pulled into a cutting line, his eyes cold but sympathetic. Logan lamely nodded his head, and he heard Emile mutter something in the same language he couldn’t understand.

Janus thought for a moment before he continued, “Well, then, if he wants to keep piggybacking off your success like the scum he is, he’ll pay to get you back.”

Logan opened his mouth, closed it, and then looked at the floor. Emile’s eyes went from Logan to Janus, and he sighed through his nose.

“You’re not seriously thinking about giving Logan back if this man makes the payment, are you?” Emile asked.

“Of course not.”

Logan’s head snapped up at that. A shriek of fear tore from his throat, and he backed up into Emile’s chest. Emile ran a hand through his hair, whispering sweet words.

Janus’s eyes met Logan once again, but this time, they were passionate. He announced, “I plan on turning him in for child abuse. He’s lucky I want my money back, or I’d do it right here and now. There’s no way the police would ignore a child star injured like this. What I’m wondering is: how did he get away with it for this long?”

The room silenced, and Logan realized they were both waiting for him to answer. Logan opened his mouth to breathe, but he couldn’t say anything.

“Logan, you don’t have to talk about anything you’re not ready to yet,” Emile coaxed. His feather-light touch on Logan’s shoulders rubbed up and down in a soothing motion.

Janus nodded his head, and he continued, “I can imagine what you’ve gone through. Please know I mean you no harm. You’re safe here, Logan.”

And with that, Logan collapsed onto his knees. It startled both Emile and Janus, who moved toward him but stopped short. Logan covered his mouth as he began to cry, his whole body shaking. Whether it was from fear or relief, he didn’t know.

Safe.

He was safe here.

They weren’t going to send him back to that hell.

Logan eventually felt Emile kneel beside him once again, a light touch on his back. Logan didn’t know how long he sat on the floor and cried, but he knew Emile never left him, and if it bothered Janus, he said nothing.

After sniffling a few times, Logan eventually formed a sentence. “What are you going to do with me then?”

Janus sighed and removed his hand to scratch his hair. He responded, “That’s completely up to you. Do you have any family you could escape to?”

Logan shook his head.

“No aunts or uncles or cousins or grandparents?”

Logan hesitated then shook his head.

“A friend? A good friend or a neighbor you could live with?”

Logan shook his head harder.

Janus cursed under his breath. “Give me something to work with here, kid. I’m not giving you over to child services.”

Logan’s head snapped up at that. He opened his mouth but closed it soon after.

“I could take him in.”

Both Janus and Logan turned their attention to Emile. Emile’s lips were pulled into a serious line, and he added, “You know I could easily take care of him, and I always wanted-”

“Absolutely not,” Janus replied. “I’m not getting him sucked into this life, and neither are you.”

“But he could live here and not work for the organization.”

The organization?

Janus sighed heavily. “No, Emile.”

“But-”

“I said no, and that’s a direct order! I’m not going to have a thirteen-year-old child running around this place.”

Logan could feel Emile’s shoulders shaking. He turned, and whether it was fear, rage, or holding in his sorrow, Emile was indeed shaking. His heart broke. With a steeled determination, Logan turned his head back to Janus.

“I want to stay with Emile.”

Janus rose a brow and snapped his attention to him. Emile sucked in a surprised breath behind him.

“Did I ask for your opinion?” Janus asked.

“You said it was up to me. I want to stay here. With Emile.”

“No,” Janus answered again.

“Then how about a bet?” Logan asked. That seemed to pique Janus’s interest, and Logan responded, “If I win, I get to stay, but if you win, I leave. Deal?”

“Janus,” Emile hissed under his breath, but Janus’s rose hand stopped him from continuing.

“It’s a deal,” Janus replied, “but I pick the game.”

Logan looked ready to argue, but he nodded his head and said, “Deal.”

Janus’s lips curled up into a smile. He pulled a deck of cards from his desk and started to shuffle them. “Do you know the rules of poker?”

“I might,” Logan replied.

“Janus,” Emile warned again, but Janus’s cold glare stopped him once again.

“Good,” Janus responded. “One round. Whoever wins this game wins the bet. Got it?”

Logan nodded his head. Janus passed the deck of cards to Emile, who eyed Janus warily. He shuffled for what felt like forever, then passed out the cards to both Janus and Logan. The two players watched each other for any signs of victory, but both of them had excellent poker faces.

“So, you’re sure you still want the bet?” Janus asked.

“No distractions,” Logan responded.

“I’m not trying to distract you. I’m just wondering what you’re going to do if you lose.”

“I won’t lose.”

“If you say so.”

Janus watched Logan, and a grin crossed his face. He laid all five cards down on the floor. An ace, two, three, four, and five. All hearts. “Straight.”

Logan and Emile stared down at the cards. Emile’s shoulders sagged, and he leaned back. Logan watched Emile for a moment before he returned his gaze back to Janus.

“So, where do you want to go, kid?” Janus asked, his lip curled into a smirk.

Logan kept his face calm as he replied, “Here.”

“Oh, I do believe that wasn’t part of our bet,” Janus replied. “You lost.”

“Did I?”

Janus’s smile slowly slipped away from his face. Emile’s head turned to Logan, optimism rising in his eyes.

Logan laid his cards on the floor. A king, a queen, a jack, a ten, and an ace. All clubs. Janus’s lips floundered, and Emile let out a surprised, happy cry. Logan continued to keep his poker face as he proclaimed, “A royal flush.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Janus responded. He looked over at Emile, who held up his hands in surrender.

“I didn’t cheat, I swear.”

“No, I watched you the whole time,” Janus said with a sigh. He stood and walked back to his desk. “FIne, you get to keep the kid.”

Logan and Emile shared a look, Emile’s eyes tearing with relief as Logan sent a small but encouraging smile back. Emile grabbed onto his pants legs to keep himself from tackling Logan right then and there.

“Though Logan,” Janus replied, “While I do appreciate a good cheat here and there, the next time you want to hide cards up your sleeve, know that I’m not going to shoot you because you’re a kid, but I will make your life here unpleasant.”

Logan’s smile slowly slipped away. He glanced over at Emile, who sucked in his lip and bit the skin.

“Come on, Logan. Let’s go find you a room so you don’t have to sleep in mine,” Emile said. He extended his hand down for Logan to take, but Logan passed it up. Emile retracted it and tried not to take offense. Logan shared one last look at Janus before the two men stepped out of the office.

For the whole trip toward the elevator, Emile and Logan didn’t say a word to each other. Logan kept stealing glances at Emile, but Emile looked too lost in thought to acknowledge him at the moment.

The elevator doors dinged, and both Logan and Emile stepped inside. Emile pushed the button to the third floor, and the elevator began its descent. Logan thought long and hard about his next sentence. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

“Something on your mind, kiddo?” Emile asked.

Logan hesitated before he questioned, “If he noticed it, why didn’t he call me on it?”

Emile’s smile didn’t leave his face. “Because I think deep down, Janus didn’t want you to leave.”

Logan accepted the answer. The doors opened, and Emile led Logan down the hallway. The numbers passed by in a numb blur. Eventually, Emile stopped at a room, 383, and unlocked it with a universal key.

The room was rather plain. A single bed with a white sheet sat in the corner, along with a nightstand. The floor had a squishy brown carpet with white speckles in it to hide the dirt or anything else that spilled on it. A television was propped up on the wall, and a computer stood on a desk against the far wall, complete with surround sound and a swivel chair.

“It’s not much, but we can make this place feel like a home in no time,” Emile said.

“It’s better than what I had.”

Emile's heart cracked a bit at that. He walked inside and put his hands on his hips. “Would you like me to leave you alone for a bit, kiddo?”

Logan nodded his head.

Emile put the keys back into his pocket and showed Logan the lock on the back of the door. “Don’t worry. No one can lock you in.”

Logan nodded his head.

“You can go upstairs to the weight room any time you want. It’s on the second floor. Oh, and we have a pool on the first floor, but that’s only open when the lifeguard is on duty. The kitchen is open all night long, and everything is free, so don’t worry about paying for any food. There’s a library on floor 4, but that’s not open until around noon today, and it closes around 10 at night. The only place you shouldn’t go is either Janus’s office, unless it’s an emergency of course, or floor five. You need a special key to get down there anyway, but just a heads up, you won’t like it if you open it.”

“What’s on floor five?” Logan asked before he could stop himself.

Emile shook his head and chewed on his lip. “Some things are just better left alone, trust me.”

Logan wanted a true answer, but he accepted the passive one for now. Emile reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He handed it over to Logan.

“This has Remy’s number in it, as well as Janus and a few other people that can help you if you need it,” Emile explained. “There are a few games on it too, like solitaire and sudoku.”

Logan looked at the phone in his hands, which had some cartoon character on the back of it, and back up to Emile. “How do you know I’m not going to call the cops and turn you all in for kidnapping?”

“I don’t.”

Logan watched Emile for a moment, waiting for him to continue. The sad smile on Emile’s face suggested it happened before.

At last, Emile continued, “But I trust you.”

Logan couldn’t say anything to that. He watched Emile close the door, and true to his word, the lock never clicked shut. Logan, however, locked it just to make himself feel a little more secure. He still didn’t totally trust these people, but… but Emile seemed like a good person. And Janus was at least a sensible person from what he could tell. And even Remy, who he knew kidnapped him, didn’t make a move to hurt him.

Maybe… maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe he could even call this place… home.

Janus heard Emile’s signature knock. He sighed through his nose and called out “Enter.”

Emile opened the door, and he closed it soon after. Janus didn’t look up from his work, but he could tell by Emile’s failure to say anything, something was up. “You’re upset I let the kid win?”

“No,” Emile responded. He let out a long sigh. “I’m happy you did, but Janus, did he really cheat?”

“I don't know. I simply guessed,” Janus responded. “For all I knew, the kid got lucky. I just didn’t want him to think I got outsmarted by a thirteen-year-old.”

“Ah yes, your reputation,” Emile joked.

“That’s not the only thing on your mind, is it?”

“These people,” Emile said, “they’re going to pin it all on us. The abuse, the kidnapping, the world’s going to be against us. You’re not really thinking of exposing these people, are you?”

“As much as I would love to, I know I can’t,” Janus responded. “I’m better off just shooting them myself. Or, better yet, giving a gun to Logan so he can take revenge.”

“You really don’t think he would-”

“I don’t think so, no, but the choice would be his, and I think he should be the one to pull the trigger if we ever go down that road.”

“Janus, you’re letting a child become a killer.”

“No, I’m not. I’m giving him the power they took away from him. Either Logan is a killer, or he’s not. We all have the choice to murder, but what we do says more about us than what we want to do. You should know that more than any of us.”

Emile nodded his head. He let out a long sigh before he said, “Thanks, Janus, for giving Logan to me.”

“It was his choice. I didn’t do anything.” At that, Janus did look over his computer screen. “But I expect you to keep him out of trouble, got it?”

“Of course.”

“And he better not go to the fifth floor.”

“I already told him.”

“Good. Watch him. I have a feeling after a while rules aren’t going to hinder his curiosity, at least, if he’s anything like you it won’t.”

Emile did smirk at that. He put his hand on the door handle to leave.

“Oh, and Emile.”

Emile turned. Janus stood from behind his desk, his hands folded behind his back. His eyes barely peeked out from under the brim of his hat.

Janus continued, “Don’t think I’m about to let you adopt any kid that walks through those doors. I meant it when I said no more kids. Got it?”

Emile hesitated for a moment. He nodded his head before he replied, “Of course.”

With a light close of the door, Emile left Janus alone with his thoughts. Janus sighed and flipped a picture down on his desk. He walked over to the stairs, too tired from today’s events to continue being a crime boss for the day. Logan’s face kept appearing in his mind, but Janus chased it away every time.

“No more kids,” Janus whispered to himself in finality.

#sanders sides #remy sanders #logan sanders #dr. emile picani #janus sanders #totally not despicable dee au #I don't know how to play poker so the scene is ripped from The Parent Trap #You will never meet Logan's parents but you're going to hate them anyway #Remy has a potty mouth and no apology for it and neither do I #so does Janus #Logan is also a cunning little shit so there's that #and Emile just wants to adopt a kid #June 2020

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lunarliza · 5 years ago

Text

JJ Maybank Must Die | Chapter 2: Ping Pong Balls

fuckboy!JJ x Reader

series masterlist | chapter one

JJ Maybank is the island’s most infamous fuckboy- not that you ever cared. But when a group of tourist girls come to your surf shop crying to you about him, you agree to help them plot revenge. Sabotage is all fun and games, until you find that the playboy you were sworn to ruin happens to be falling head over heels for you.

Yes, this is based on John Tucker Must Die lol

Problem not solved.

You and Sophia eagerly sipped on your smoothies, waiting for the trio to show up to their five-o’clock session the Monday following the party. Alas, they piled through the front door with deflated shoulders.

“Well?” Sophia perked, eyes gleaming, “How’d it go? Did you make him cry?! Please don’t spare any details!” Her palms clasped together in front of her like a kid who just came up with an evil-genius plan.

“Tell them what happened,” Annalise ordered Arabella, clocking the fiery-haired girl’s shoulder.

Arabella sighed dejectedly. “Well... not exactly. So I went to the party, hoe clothes on and everything like we planned. Saw him, used my signature look and look away move, and it worked! He came over and we started talking and-”

“She fucked him,” Maia finished bluntly, prompting a betrayed gasp from Sophia and face-palm from you.

“Mhm,” Annalise added, “He whisked her away before me or Maia could get the chance to interfere.”

“I couldn’t help it!” Arabella cried, covering her face in mortification, “He was just so... smooth and sweet. And those eyes! We started talking about sea turtles! You guys know they are my weakness.”

You couldn’t help look on your face. Arabella was sweet, no doubt, but boy, the girl sure was spineless. It was a good thing she was pretty.

“He is the devil!” Sophia enunciated each word of her sentence and huffed. “This is going to be harder than I thought!”

“We just need someone stronger! Someone with a heart of steel unlike this one,” Annalise added, smacking her friend on the back.

“We could give it another go,” you agreed, “but who’d be our guinea pig now?”

You pondered at the ceiling until you felt all four pairs of eyes practically stab at you. It was like jumping into a vulture’s nest.

“Oh no, not me!”

“Why not?” Maia questioned, frustrated. “You’re the only available one left. Plus, you couldn’t give two shits about him. It’ll be like busy work to you.”

“Yeah not gonna happen. Find someone else, please. This is non-negotiable.”

Out of nowhere, Sophia seized your hand and tugged you into the back room of the shop. “Excuse us for a minute,” she said to the girls before shutting the door of the crammed space.

It was a good thing your supervisor left early for the day, your asses would be toast if he were to witness the scene.

“I think you should do it,” your best friend urged.

“Have you lost your mind?!” you yelled-whispered.

“Oh come on, y/n! Do it for me. For Annalise. No! Do it for all the girls on this island who has ever shed a single tear for him!”

You sighed heavily. “I can’t do it, Soph. I’m sorry. He’s terrible and Karma has her kiss for him, but not me. Also, you know how I feel about those parties at the Boneyard.” Your look grew to one of disgust.

“Mhm,” she crossed her arms, “This wouldn’t be because of Pope would it?”

“No!”

Yes. It absolutely was.

So you might’ve maybe use to have a teensy tiny little crush on Pope Heyward-one of JJ’s best friends. It wasn’t your fault he was so cute and smart... and respectful!

The boy stole your heart and ran away with it when you were paired up for science lab sophomore year. Him, being the genius he was, always did the experiments so gracefully while you royalty fucked everything up.

One day, you poured the wrong solution into the beaker and the goopy liquid exploded everywhere. However, without an ounce of complaint, Pope offered to stay after with you to scrub down the walls and tables. A modern day romance if there ever was one.

After months of daydreaming about him, you finally worked up the courage to ask him to the end-of-year dance. Sophia and your other friends hyped you up as you approached his locker after school.

Much to you dismay, he said no. But he did it in such a nice way, you couldn’t hate him for it. If anything, it made you hurt even more that you got rejected so kindly. Ever since then, you never stepped foot near him or his friends, too humiliated to even think of it.

“You’re a terrible liar, y/n,” Sophia stated.

She then grabbed onto your shoulders to stare you straight in the eyes. “Look, I know you swore never to see Pope again, but, honestly, fuck him! He missed out on a kick-ass date. But think- you could kill two birds with one stone! Go to the Boneyard, look hot as fuck, dance on JJ a bit and then vamoose! Pope’s jealous and JJ gets a bite in the ass!”

Your brows furrowed in annoyance. Leave it to Sophia to convince you into her petty ploys. “I don’t know...”

She persisted further. “Okay, I wasn’t going to tell you this because I knew you’d be super jealous, but my cousin got me front row to Venus Panic in Charlotte at the end of the summer.”

Your eyes jolted out of your head. “No fucking way!”

You loved Venus Panic with a dying passion. They were your favorite band who never ever came to the U.S.

Sophia let out a long breath. “Yes. If you do this, y/n, the ticket,” she paused, “the ticket is yours.”

It was like pulling teeth from her to make that kind of offer. Damn her for being so conniving!

“Alright. For Venus, I’ll do it.”

“Thank the gods!” Sophia leaped up and down in the confined room, hugging you and thanking you a ga-zillion times.

She looked as if she sealed a million dollar deal when you two emerged from the room. You, on the other hand, were ready to fling yourself to the seagulls.

“Operation JJ Maybank must die is a go girls!” she announced before the group started frolicking up and down, earning stares from people looking through the glass.

“Alright, alright,” you said as they settled down, “Now that we have that done, can we please actually surf now?”

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

The night of the next Boneyard party, you and Sophia drove to the condo the girls were staying at. Pulling up to the building, both yours and Sophia’s eyes widened. You knew the complex was on Figure Eight, but you didn’t know it was that luxurious and huge. They even had valet at the front, and you were greeted by doorman on your way in.

Apparently Annalise’s dad was an important rich man in Virginia. He remarried, and was currently honeymooning in some exotic island. Sending his condolences, he let her choose whichever one of his condos she wanted to stay at for the summer with friends. For some unknown reason, she chose the Outer Banks.

“Party’s here!” Sophia sang when Arabella answered the door.

You entered into the spacious unit, in awe. The endless kitchen was lined with white Italian wood while the counters were topped with the fanciest marble you had ever seen. The living room was the size of your house with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the island. And the view was spectacular.

So this was how the other side lived.

Maia and Annalise squealed when they emerged from their rooms and hugged you and Sophia hello. They had on silk robes with their hair up in rollers. The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show had nothing on them.

They handed you two some seltzers from the fridge before Maia dragged you to the gigantic vanity in her room. Eyeshadow palettes, brushes, and compact powders littered the surface. She sat you down and fiddled with the ends of your hair.

“So, y/n, what kind of look do you wanna go for tonight?”

You were taken aback. “I’m not sure. Maybe something natural since we’re gonna be outside?”

Maia scoffed playfully and shook her head. “Y/n, it’s a party! If you’re not glamming you’re not scamming. Actually say no more! I know exactly what we’re gonna do.”

And so, she worked her magic as you watched through the bulb-lined mirror. You asked her about the products she was using while she gave you the rundown of the importance of each item and step. She was very knowledgable and swift with her hand- especially when it came to the winged liner.

You got along with Maia. You learned that she had a successful makeup channel and wanted to start her own brand one day. She also told you about her boyfriend and how he was in Thailand for the entire summer.

After two hours of searching for lost lip glosses, waiting on Annalise to change for the tenth time, and chugging your fifth seltzer, the five of you finally made it to the Boneyard at its peak hour.

Linking arms, you all strutted down the beach, ready for your mission.

The four scattered when you reached the sea of people, leaving you to locate the blonde target. After a few minutes of searching, you couldn’t find a single trace of him or any of his friends.

Heading over to the keg, you poured yourself a drink in hopes it would loosen your raging nerves. It also didn’t help that Maia’s bikini top was hardly covering your nipples. You knew a nip slip was just waiting to happen at some point in the night.

You casually sipped your drink and circled the party again, catching a glimpse of the wavy-haired boy at the beer pong area.

JJ slammed his fists on the table after landing another shot.

“Fuck yes! One last shot and your ass is grass!” he belted to his competitors: two random tourist boys who were chugging at a ridiculously slow pace. JJ then proceeded to high-five his friend, John B, who you also recognize from school.

“Don’t be a coward,” you muttered to yourself before striding to the crowd clamoring around a fold-out table.

From the sides, you attempted a few of the “flirty glances” Arabella taught you but no luck. The boy would much rather bounce a ping-pong ball.

You resorted to crossing your arms and waiting for the game to be over. With no surprise, JJ and John B won as the tourons groaned and withered away to the bonfire.

“That’s right baby! Undefeated!” JJ gloated with his hands smugly flung in the air.

“Alright who’s next?” John B shouted, earning no response from the herd.

Welp... it’s now or never.

“I’ll play,” you volunteered and stuck your hand up. You could feel JJ staring at you quizzically.

“Alright, alright we have a challenger! But who’s your partner?” John B asked. You wanted to slap yourself for not thinking this through properly.

“I’ll do it,” a deep voice spoke behind you. You whirled around to meet eyes with none other than Pope. He stood cooly behind you with a beer in hand.

You originally planned to avoid him at all costs during the party. But that all went down the drain as he set down his drink and started ordering the cups in a pyramid formation.

“You’re going down Heyward!” JJ hollered, taking the first shot. The ball glided into the first cup with ease. John B’s shot followed, but bounced off to the side.

Your partner grabbed the beer and hurled it down instantly, using his wrist to wipe his mouth. You snatched the fallen ball on the ground while Pope nodded for you to go first.

So this might have been the first time you’ve every played beer pong in your life. But, in your defense, you’ve done it a million times on your phone. It couldn’t be that hard.

You tossed the first shot and it wheezed over all the cups. Whoops.

“This is too easy,” JJ jeered, eyeing Pope as he made the next throw. It landed in one of the back cups and John B swallowed the contents down.

“Sorry, I’m just off my game today,” you mumbled to your partner.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You wanna know my trick?” Pope raised as another one of JJ’s balls flew into one of your cups. You raised your brows as he handed you the beer.

“The more drunk you are, the better you play.”

Guzzling down the liquid luck, you fingered another ball and took your aim. Flinging it towards the mass, you gasped when it actually landed into the center cup.

“Oh my God!” you cheered as Pope’s face mimicked yours. He high-fived you with both hands as you bounced up and down in glee.

“That’s what I’m talking about y/n!”

For the rest of the game you and Pope played neck-and-neck with the other two, continuously making shots and chugging down beer. His tactic worked. You were on fire.

The flock around you chanted your name every time you scored. You could see your friends hanging around in the far corner hollering your name and sending you thumbs ups.

It was game point as both teams had one target left. It was their turn. JJ took the stage, chucking the ball skillfully. Much to your demise, it swirled along the rim before plopping in. JJ roared out in victory.

“Hold your horses,” Pope interjected with a finger in the air, “We still have redemption.”

“Let’s see it then,” John B panted, worn out from the tension.

“You got this.” Pope patted you on the back and handed you the ball.

Your eyes bursted. “W-What? No no no, Pope you go.”

“Relax, y/n! I believe in you. Just focus.”

You gulped and turned to the boys taunting you across the table. Saying the quickest Hail Mary in your head, you launched the ball and had to shut your eyes.

A sudden rush of shrieks alarmed you. Peeling your eyes open, you saw both JJ and John B’s jaws plummet to the ground.

It went in.

“Now that’s what the fuck is up!” Pope hurled his fist at this chest. You were frozen in utter disbelief. Maybe the Gods were in your favor.

Pope added two more cups to your side of the table as John B copied his actions. The four of you went at it a few more times before you were one-and-one again. Both John B and JJ missed and the balls rolled back over to you.

Taking the first shot again, you slung the ball, but it flew off the rim. You were chattering on your nails as Pope proceeded to make his attempt.

One swish and the ball landed straight in the hole.

You both jolted up in the air, doing a little victory dance. JJ shushed you- ready to go for his redemption kill. His ball missed the cup by a hair and John B’s slid off the table, deeming you and Pope the winners.

In your exhilarated drunken state, you threw your arms around Pope, and he let out a soft chuckle. You hastily pulled away after you realized what you were doing. Thankfully, the crestfallen losers immediately came over to shake your hands and say “Good game.”

JJ’s hands hung onto yours a moment longer. He studied you with his eyes before treading away towards the bonfire.

As winners, you and Pope stayed a few more rounds before getting beat out. You noticed JJ come back to watch you for a few rounds, eyes fixated on your every move.

After shaking hands with the girls who beat you, you waved a confused Pope goodbye and jogged over towards the drink area for water. In the corner of your eye, you saw JJ hurry up to you with giddiness.

“That was some game you played out there,” he complimented as you swigged down your water.

“Thanks! Guess I just got lucky back there.”

He leaned both arms on the table, raising his brows suggestively. “Might just be your lucky night then.”

Oh brother.

You threw him an uneasy smile and treaded away to the dancing crowd. Of course, he followed you, struggling to keep up with your pace.

“Hey, what’s your name? I’ve never seen you around before.”

You scoffed low enough to where he couldn’t hear. Never seen you? You’ve been in the same classes since second grade.

“I’m y/n.” You slowed down a bit, remembering your sworn duty.

“Well I’m JJ. JJ Maybank.” He flashed you a toothy smile.

You stopped amidst the dancers as a popular, high-beat electronic song came on. You flung you hands around JJ’s neck and pulled him close. “Dance with me, JJ Maybank.”

The two of you rocked back and forth for a while before the music transitioned to a provocative rap song. Both you and the light-haired boy rapped the entire first verse with ease, giggling once the chorus hit.

“So... how come I’ve never seen you at one of these parties?”

You shrugged tossing him a look of disinterest. “Not really my thing.”

He tugged you in so his forehead was on yours. “Then what is your thing then, hm? What’s a cute girl like you up to all summer?”

“I’m a surfing instructor.”

“Is that so? You know, I’m a pretty good surfer myself...” His hands traced down to your swaying hips.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you retorted, running your hands up and down his biceps flirtatiously.

It was probably the alcohol doing all the work, because in that moment, you knew you were being absolutely irresistible to the boy who’s hands were burning to stay in the... respectful areas.

“Maybe one day I can show you,” JJ rasped. You barely heard him through the booming of the speakers, but still locked eyes with him alluringly.

“Mmm, don’t really have time for amateurs.”

“Ouch... feisty aren’t we?” His lips were millimeters from yours.

“Please, you know you like it.” You decided to close the gap.

Boy, were his lips soft. His chiseled hands made way to tangle up in your hair as he expertly kissed you amongst the throng of people. He slid his tongue into your mouth, and you could feel how hungry he was.

You stopped after a minute, purposely cutting it short. His eyes were aching for more, but you refused. You wanted to starve him.

“Wanna get out of here? There’s a cool place on the beach I can show you,” he asked, fingers toying with the back string of your bikini.

You shrugged. “Why not.”

Smirking, JJ’s hand snaked around your waist as he led you to the back trees of the Boneyard. You approached a small patch of sand enclosed by a circle of trees, and it all clicked in your head. This was his sex hideout.

You glanced around the spot. The moon beamed straight into it, and the leaves of the trees hung down fancifully. In its own weird way, it was kind of romantic- if you didn’t think about how many times he’s taken people there to fuck.

He tugged you towards the center, wrapping you in his muscular arms.

“You’re the cutest girl I’ve ever seen. I could just eat you up,” he muttered seductively, nipping at the sides of your jawline.

You were beginning to understand it now- his irresistibility. The guy was charming. You let him kiss you for a little bit until you felt him undo your back bikini string.

You quickly jerked away, tying it back into a bow.

“You know what, I think I’m good,” you said abruptly, backing away.

JJ looked as if someone offered a kid ice cream and knocked the cone off the second he was about to dive in for the first taste. “Wait! Where are you going?” he urged.

“Away.”

His face flooded in disbelief as he let out a loud scoff, darting after you as you jogged back to the dancing pack.

“Wait! Y/n come back!” he called out.

“What for? I’m not sleeping with you JJ!” you shouted, making sure everyone around you heard.

When his face went beet-red you knew you work was done.

You sped up the sand, out of sight, to Annalise’s car where your friends were circled. They whooped and cheered at your presence.

“We saw everything!” Maia exclaimed, hauling you in for a bone-tight hug.

“That was so awesome! Y/n, you’re my hero!” Arabella chimed in while you all crammed into the Mercedes.

“Ladies, ladies,” Annalise began before pulling out of the parking lot, “Tonight we celebrate the fall of JJ Maybank!”

The car erupted in drunk glee as everyone swaddled you from their seats.

As you drove back to the condo, Sophia rolled down her window from the backseat and stuck out her head.

“Fuck you JJ Maybank!”

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

note: dw there is even more D R A M A to come lolz

chapter 3

tags: @obxlife @rudyypankow @yeehaw87 @ilymarkchan @jellyfishbeansontoast @tangledinsparkles @toloveortobeinlove @pixelated-pogues @normatural @teamnick @drizzlethatfalls

#outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #jj obx #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #john b obx #john b #john b imagine

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