#theo tug rebecca

[toast-com]

Noises at Night (11-7-22)

Hank could hear the dragging and thumping outside. It was keeping him awake. He sat up, scared out his mind, at an especially loud thump, near his window. Hank frowned, slightly fearful, and unable to go to sleep.

"T-Theodore?" He looked towards the other side of the room he shared with his friend. Theodore was sound asleep, unaffected by the noise. Hank's mind immediately went to the story George had told the day prior, about Kamel, the ghoul of Big Harbor. He could feel something watching him, as he quietly got out of bed. Hank didn't dare turn and look at the window, for fear that Kamel would be there, staring unseeing ahead with empty black sockets.

As he soundlessly made his way down the hall, he passed Rebecca's room. Her reading lamp was on, which meant she was awake.

"Rebecca?" He knocked lightly on her door, and waited. The door opened, and he rushed inside.

"Hank, what's the matter?" Rebecca asked, as Hank tightly clung to her. He told her about the noise, and George's story and Kamel. She hugged him.

"Cherub," She murmured, stroking his hair. "Those are just stories. Kamel, has been dead for a long time."

[cattles-bians]

exes au part 14

post directory

obsetress:

obsetress: viola

em: holy shit

em: i think viola could hold a truly ridiculous number of things in her hands

em: danis like i have a little fanny pack right here- and violas like (turns up nose) absolutely not

obsetress: pre therapy viola during her relationship w dani: buys dani a birkin too, is like "here baby, so you don't have to use that fanny pack"

obsetress: dani's like "oh. i, um. like my fanny pack"

obsetress: viola therapy era after her relationship with dani: buys her a hermes fanny pack instead

obsetress: jamie rolls her eyes but dani is literally

em: i think a lot abt viola offering solutions completely unprompted n then being really offended when ppl dont take her up on it

em: pre therapy obvs

obsetress: SAME

obsetress: oh link is gross

obsetress: cost is grosser

obsetress: but viola lloyd dropping $2550 on a fanny pack for her ex gf? chefs kiss

---

obsetress: ok just remembered viola slouching or leaning or w/e n like

obsetress: brain practically applying that to exes au and imagining when and where she'd slouch n everyone's reactions to htat

obsetress: bc like she has perfect posture but when she chooses to do it it's a power move

obsetress: and i. hm

em: yeah

obsetress: viola sitting up stock straight when they first get to brunch and as soon as she's ordered her bloody mary shes pulling off her sunglasses and dropping them on the table and just sinking back

em: how to phrase this w/o sounding too much like a whore

em: actually no way to say this but like i feel v strongly abt the way we make women take up less space wrt to knees together calves touching type deal and i think maybe

em: maybe viola can manspread a bit as a treat

em: hate that term but i cant think of a better one

obsetress: nah she does n it's hot

obsetress: just had this image pre divorce of viola and arthur at marriage counseling on opp ends of the couch n arthur's sitting v tight close and vi is just

obsetress: leaning and spreading a lil

obsetress: the first time jamie sees her do it she's so taken aback

obsetress: because she's NOT expecting it

em: jamies like ah ok late in life lesbian deal and then jokes on her viola is fluent in dyke slouch

obsetress: jamie immediately trying to suss out just how long viola has been fucking women

obsetress: she says to dani later "i thought she was all proper like" and dani's like "she is" and jamie's like "so wot was that then" and dani's like "well, people are gay, jamie,"

em: ghfjhgljkJFDASJKKJFGA

em: jamies like so wait how long HAS viola been

obsetress: jamie: so you were vi's first serious girlfriend right? dani: dani: jamie: right???????

em: violas been fucking women longer than jamie has lbr

em: i mean shes clearly only 35, jamie,

obsetress: jamie: so... vi... viola: hm? jamie: you're, uh, gay, right? viola: obviously jamie: right. well dani told me you've been dating women since–– viola: since i was 15, yes jamie: but you married a man

em: violas like u went to jail everyone does stupid shit occasionally

em: jamie: so how long have you been dating women viola: since i was 15 jamie: no i meant like. in years viola raises her eyebrows and jamies just like haha nevermind fuck

obsetress: she tried!

obsetress: she tried

em: jamie on her 35th birthday pencilling 'many happy returns' into violas ????th 35th birthday card

em: yknow i think

em: i think something's afoot

obsetress: jamie, giving up on the direct approach

obsetress: slipping in next to rebecca at the wine bar

obsetress: "becca"

obsetress: "hi, jamie" "hi. how old is your girlfriend"

em: am fucking losing it thinking abt jamie like. realising how much gay energy viola has

em: like taken ABACK

obsetress: fksljfLKSDJFLJ

obsetress: just like

obsetress: why are jamies reactions to viola so funny

obsetress: montage of jamie realizing how much gay energy viola has

obsetress: jamie watching viola sitting

obsetress: jamie watching viola pick up a variety of glasses and mugs

obsetress: jamie watching viola compare hand sizes with dani, jamie's girlfriend and viola's ex girlfriend who she dated for literal years and whose hand size she definitely already knows

em: NOT THE HAND SZIES

em: they go for a walk and viola immediately complains about the sun and jamie's like

em: i have a spare hat but ur not gonna like it

em: its a snapback that says daddy or smthn in gold, owen got it for jamie for her bday, jamie Loathes it

obsetress: BYE

obsetress: viola looks better in it than jamie does

em: jamie has that

em: am i attracted to viola? moment

em: it passses

em: she has already compartmentalised the weird psychosexual power play

em: queen of compartmentalising

obsetress: jamie: had another one of those moments today dani: what moments? jamie: where i thought i might be attracted to vi dani: well, you did let her fuck you... what was it, four? times in one night, so

em: jamie; yeah but like that aside

em: jamie 'thats neither here nor there' taylor

obsetress: she is the queen of compartmentalizing tho

em: i was gonna be like. 'jamies like wait i dont remember saying four' but. i think she would tell dani

em: because the flip of that is dani callin up vi n i dont think she would necessarily

obsetress: i think she would and dani would make her anyway

obsetress: well make her is harsh but

obsetress: dani would very curiously ask in very convincing ways

em: lovingly coax it out of her

em: dani: what if i fucked you four times in o

obsetress: dani: let me do five

em: viola probably wears so many rings jamie doesn’t even clock the ever present thumb ring

obsetress: jamie just. writes it all off

em: am laughing abt like. viola v meticulously taking off every single ring and putting it in its proper location before...

obsetress: there is something. so hot about that

obsetress: im gonna scream i think

em: i was just meming and now im thinking abt it and

em: truly played myself

em: actually this is me refusing to unpack whatever the hell theo crain gloves made me feel

obsetress: sdkfmsldjfa

obsetress: fair

em: sublimate it into rings

obsetress: i just like um

obsetress: thinkin about when she and dani are together and like

obsetress: it's intentional and everything has its place but vi also makes a show out of it

obsetress: and like

obsetress: she's SO painstaking about it and definitely makes dani wait a little bit and

em: helps dani outta her big ass earrings

em: i mean dani doesnt even Need the help

em: viola meticulous lloyd

em: i mean she just wears so much goddamn jewellry

obsetress: she can tell when dani's getting impatient and goes even slower

em: viola has like

em: viola is one of thos ppl thats really into expensive watches

obsetress: !!!!!!

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: nice lil canon nod too

em: she drags dani to antique auctions n danis like i cant. actually tell the difference between the real and the forgery and violas like (passionately explains it for like 30 minutes) and dani is

em: like shes mentally checked out but also v intensely watching violas hands as she points to the parts of the watch

em: rebecca gets it tho

em: rebecca Gets It

obsetress: dani shoving vi into the bathroom at the auction house and tugging vi's hand between her legs v rebecca grabbing her own auction paddle and bidding against viola for the same watch

obsetress: (rebecca n vi fuck in the car on the ride home)

em: dani grabs a paddle n mimes spanking viola n then the auctioneer is like '$250 to 201' and danis like aw Fcuk

em: violas like i cant take u Anywhere

obsetress: dani gives her the 🥺😌and viola's immediately over it and pulling out $250

obsetress: dani: i didn't even want it, i was just–– vi: i know dani: what am i even gonna do with a–– vi: i'll sell it for $500 at a private auction next week dani: so technically i'm making you money dani, grinning: it's like i'm your employee dani: do you have any more assignments for me, boss? vi: dani get your hand out of my pocket i need to focu––

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Unedited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Thirty: The One With His View

Warnings: Weight loss

Word Count: 2376

    Bucky's POV

   Bucky sat in his bed with his arm laying detached beside him. His eyes stared down at the photo of Hunter and Lily on the beach, Joey there with them. His glassed over eyes focused on that bright beaming smile on the blonde's lips. One he hadn't seen in person for over a month now. One that he only saw in his dreams at night, or in the photos on his phone.

    Scattered around his apartment were printed photos of her that he had taken. The day after she broke up with him he had them printed out, just to have her in his hands once more. Her bright eyes crinkled at the sides as he took sneaky photos of her, ones he only showed her the night he took them, to avoid her from dodging him. She always hated having her photo taken, but he just couldn't help himself.

    She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

    He ran a shaky hand through his grown out hair, tugging gently on the roots, just as she always did. He ran those same hands down the front of his face, his overgrown facial hair scratching the callouses that he earned over the years. Glancing down at his phone, the brunette sighed. May 3rd. Her birthday was tomorrow. He could only take a guess how she was celebrating it.

     Her and Hunter probably sitting on the couch with Chinese, Gen and Rose occupying the other sofa as a cheesy rom-com played on the TV. When Hunter went to bed, she'd probably change it to a horror movie. He never understood how she enjoyed them so much. To Bucky, horror movies were something he could never get on board with, yet Lily adored them so much, he would sit there with her. He would typically end up curled into her side, wincing whenever there was a loud noise from the screen.

    But she'd never say anything about it. She'd just chuckle and call him a "big ol' baby", and kiss the top of his head before throwing more popcorn in her mouth.

     Her favourite was The Nun. Bucky despised it. Whether it be her desensitization to it, or her strange love for things that made her yelp in fear, she would watch it so often. Eventually, Bucky actually opened his eyes for some of the more scary parts. But he always ended up curled into her side once more, breathing in her scent to sooth him. She'd never watch ones that were more so thriller based, the psychological ones that messed with peoples heads and typically involved person to person violence though. He knew she watched them alone, but wouldn't with Bucky.

     Because he told her what they did to him mentally. So she didn't. Because his comfort was always her main priority, especially with his trauma.

     The alarm on his phone blared, sending a jerk through his body. Glancing down, Bucky groaned. He had therapy in half an hour, which meant he had to leave now. He'd managed to dodge the conversations about Lily with his therapist, but the Doctor knew that. Which meant, sooner or later, she would pry and get him to open up about his heartbreak.

-----

     "Lily was her name, right?" Dr. Raynor asked, tilting her head as she stared down the man across from her.

     "I'd prefer not to talk about it." Bucky stated simply, readjusting in his seat on the couch.

     "Mmm you said that a month ago. Then again three weeks ago. Then again two-"

     "I get it."

     Bucky knew that his luck would go against him. Of course Dr. Raynor would bring her up the day before her birthday. As her present sat heavy in his coat pocket. He'd carried it around with him for the past month, never letting it far from his sight. So much sat inside of the case, begging for her.

     "She has a son. I have that here in the notes. You loved him, and even saw him as your own," the Doctor began, crossing her legs, "did you imagine having a family with her yourself, James?"

     "We were a family already," he stated softly, voice cracking halfway through, "from the moment I first stayed at her house, we were a family."

     "Let me rephrase," Dr. Raynor continued, tilting her head, "did you imagine having a child of your own with her?"

     Yes. The answer was yes. He pictured it in his head whenever he saw her with Hunter, or pictures of her with Hunter when he was a baby. What Bucky would have given to be there for her then, to have been Hunter's father since birth. But he took what he could. Instead, he imagined her pregnant with his child. They'd talked about it briefly. Both agreeing they'd love to have a little girl, name her Stella, or Amelia, something classic. They even tossed Rebecca back and forth, for Bucky's sister. In the end they decided on Rose-Rebecca for a middle name instead. For a boy, they came up with Wyatt or Theo, with Steve as the middle name.

     They'd imagine their home. Somewhere in the countryside, a large backyard for Hunter and their other kid. A dog or two, maybe even a cat. Lily wasn't fussy on the idea of cats, not their biggest fans. But Bucky always wanted one.

     "You told me two months ago you planned on retiring," Dr. Raynor commented, pulling him out of his thoughts, "Was that to settle down with her? And start that family of your own?"

     "Yes." He stated, voice loose and breathy.

     "Did you end up following through with it?"

     "Yes."

     "How do you spend your days now?" she pushed, trying to get the truth out of him.

     "I volunteer at the old folks home near my apartment," he answered honestly, sighing as he spoke, "Tony offered me a job at the tower but I'm not sure I want to take it."

     "What was the job?"

     "Talking to retired veterans, young and old." He stated softly, fiddling with his gloves.

     "Does Lily know this?"

     He shook his head. He'd debated calling her over the last few weeks. Wondering if she'd even pick up. He drove past her street once, before doubting himself and refusing to ever step foot near there again. Too much pain followed when he realized he wouldn't have anywhere to go on that street. He wasn't allowed back at her place, not after she told him to get out, and said goodbye. With her back to him.

     "Have you had any contact with her son?"

     "No. No, I won't do that to him," Bucky whispered, voice failing him, "I couldn't. He deserves happiness, and peace. It's not for me to contact him."

     "And her sister, you said she was pregnant a while back," she continued, "what about her?" He shook his head again, prompting her to continue, "And...Gen. I think that was her name. Her best friend. Anything?"

     Another shake of his head.

     "Hand me your phone."

     Bucky sighed and tossed the device over, watching the Doctor swiftly catch it and turn it on. Her eyes softened when she saw his lockscreen. Bucky stared down at his lap, knowing what she saw. On his lockscreen, Lily stood on a balcony, a grey suit jacket on and a white lace dress. The sun shined bright on her face as she leaned her head back, blonde hair dancing in the wind. Her smile was slight, as she enjoyed the feeling of the sun. He took it when they were at his apartment in October, on a particularly warm day. She raided his closet and took the jacket.

     She still had it.

     "She's beautiful." Dr. Raynor stated, swiping up to unlock the phone. A tear fell down Bucky's cheek. His home screen was different, but still Lily.

     Lily and Hunter were asleep on the couch, Joey curled at the base of the couch. Bucky had come over for dinner to find them like that. So he draped a blanket over the two and got to work on the food in the kitchen. Not daring to disturb the two. He always loved seeing her asleep. The stress lines he adored along her forehead and cheeks disappeared, her face was calm and supple. Her lips slightly parted slightly and eye lashes laid against her slightly flushed cheeks.

     "Cute kid," Raynor commented, moving on to his messages, "You've ignored everyones texts James. Only Sam and Steve seem to be getting an answer from you. If you can even call it that."

     "They mostly come over unannounced to my apartment," Bucky said gravely, shifting once again, "typically to force me into this exact same conversation we're having."

     Tossing his phone back, the doctor sighed, "When did you realize you had fallen in love with her?"

      "I couldn't tell you, Doc," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "there were so many times where I would just look at her and know. Know that she would have an unspoken power over me."

     "Tell me more about her."

     Bucky knew where to start. He began by talking about her appearance, all walls he had up disappearing after the doctor saw just how much he was still in love with her. He began with her hair. Describing it as something that he could play with for days on end. It was always soft and was bright and reminded him of the sun. Her eyes were a deep amber hazel with flecks of green in certain lights. Her skin was bright and boisterous, always seemingly full of life when he was around. Her nose was something that he could only describe as sculpted. A strong ridge with a dip near the top. Her lips were that of a love song. Soft and welcoming, seemingly molded to his own. A beautiful cupid's bow that had him longing to kiss her from the moment he saw her for the first time.

     Her body was something Bucky could barely voice. A simple figure, dips and curves. Gentle stretch marks along the thicker parts, her hips, her thighs. Her stomach and waist was his favourite thing next to her hands. Her stomach had small marks along the bottom where she grew to carry Hunter. He would typically wake her up on weekends by kissing those marks, reminding her of the beauty. Her hands were gentle and calloused from years of hard work. But always so gentle, skilled fingers that would trace simple patterns along his skin and run through his hair.

     He left out the explicits.

     Her personality though. Bucky didn't know where to start. He was rendered speechless when he got to it. But he started with the dirtier parts. The harsher parts of her that he didn't always enjoy, but loved more than anything else. She was snappy, and had an affliction with everything being perfect. She was controlling, and never let him lead her through different things. Sometimes she wouldn't listen, and focus on that dark voice that plagued her head instead of listening to him. But she was kind. Kinder to him than anyone. She would sit him down some nights and point out all that she loved about him. She was warmhearted, and never let herself see the bad in people. Her mind was something that fascinated him beyond words. She was a quick thinker, always ready with a comeback or some fact he probably didn't need, but loved to hear anyways.

     When he became coherent to his words again, he felt the warm tears flooding his cheeks rapidly. Something that only ever happened in the confines of his own apartment, away from everyone else. But this time, he spoke. Three simple words that shattered his heart.

     "She was mine."

-----

     Standing in his kitchen, Bucky used his flesh hand to mix the blueberries into the batter in the black mixing bowl on the counter. He wasn't sure what possessed him to make these today of all days, but he did.

     The lock on his door turning made the brunette sigh. Steve or Sam, or both even, were here. Which meant that he wouldn't be able to get the peace and quiet he wanted for the day. Ignoring the struggle, Bucky poured the batter into circles on the skillet, smiling at the sizzle they made. Something Lily said was what he wanted. He watched intently, waiting for the bubbles to begin popping. When the door swung open, he chuckled. They figured it out.

     "I told you to turn it that way first," Sam muttered to Steve as the two walked in, "but nooo Mr. America had to do it his way."

     "Former, Mr. America." Steve corrected, shutting the door.

     "And now Mr. Pain-in-my-ass." Bucky sighed, flipping the pancakes before turning to face the two men standing near his kitchen.

      "Hey Buck," Steve smiled softly, walking forward, "How're you feeling?"

      "Well it's 2 o'clock and cyborg is making pancakes. So either he's so old he's losing his mind, or he's not doing great." Sam grinned walking over to the counter and leaning on it.

      "I've had a long month." Bucky smiled tightly, flipping the pancakes onto a plate beside him.

      "You could call her." Steve offered, stealing a blueberry from a container.

      "She doesn't want to talk to me." Bucky muttered, covering his pancakes in butter and icing sugar. Just as she used to in the mornings for him.

     "You sure about that?" Sam whispered, eyes staring down Bucky.

     Bucky shook his head and grabbed his utensils and orange juice before walking past the two into the living room. He sat down, turning on the TV and trying his hardest to ignore the heavy stares of his best friends from the other end of the room. He knew they were here for a reason. It could be the fact it was her birthday and Bucky had plans to make it special for her a month ago. Or it could be to pester him. Or even if something happened they won't tell him. The last was his best guess.

     "I'm guessing by your annoying stares," Bucky sighed, turning his attention to the men, "You're not here for pancakes."

[exorciseyourspirit]

Plane Easy|| Miriam, Rebecca and Theodora

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @meflemming, @slayed-slayer and @exorciseyourspirit SUMMARY: Janet from The Good Place voice: Not a witch. CONTENT: Blood, Possession Non-Con

Over the past few weeks, Rebecca had been gathering all the supplies and materials she would need to help her astral project while awake. She’d tried a few times, with little success, so she’d gone to the local magic store to try and get more information on it. A few new books on the subject had pointed her in the right direction. It told her that going to a place charged with emotion would help, as well as finding somewhere where the veil was thin. And she knew just the place. Theodora’s grave. She hadn’t visited still, the last time her body had been there it had not been her own, but it was now. It would be strange, she supposed, to be standing next to her wife’s grave with her floating nearby, but what choice did she have? She knew Theo would never let her do this, or come here, alone, so this was how it was to be.

When they arrived at the cemetery, Rebecca had made sure to check the perimeter, and Theo had even double checked her scouting. No one in sight, not even a spawn. The trek to the grave was slower, and the closer they got, the slower Rebecca went. Stopping almost completely even when she was still meters away from it. Swallowing, she looked where she thought Theodora might be judging by her feel, and went up to the grave, staring down at it. Theodora Fairfax, Loving Wife, Friend. July 16th, 1973 - September 27th, 2018. And below that, her quote: Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’ We are not now that strength in which old days, Moved Earth and heaven, that which we are, we are.” Rebecca was still for a long moment, before opening up her pack and beginning to lay out all her stuff. Candles, incense, herbs, and the mat that she’d drawn her safety pentacle on. She didn’t look up as she worked, worried she’d see right through her wife again, as she sat next to her grave. “You remember the plan?” she asked quietly, smoothing down the mat.

“I do. Maintain a safe perimeter, and if anything seems amiss, stick you with your dagger until you wake. Nothing I can’t handle, even in death,” Theodora replied gently, hovering close to her ear. She sat down on her headstone and regarded her wife with as much care as worry. She was nervous, and with good reason. Rebecca’s soul had always been sensitive, astute, but she had never tried anything like this with her capabilities before. Seeing her nerves, Theodora couldn’t help but be concerned herself. She knew, of course, that Rebecca’s unflappable air was just that, that exhaustive amounts of care and study went into every ritual. And oh, this was not the time to rattle her with warnings and questions. They had gone over the details plenty of times at Rebecca’s home as it was. “You didn’t have to come do it here, dearest,” she said, “Though I do appreciate the gesture.”

Cemeteries were fine places for walks. Sure, ghosts could be a little chatty, and, sure, there were chances for Miriam to run into the nosier members of her own kind, not to mention the more primal ones, but it was relaxing. And, sometimes, it was even fun. Sometimes, you could just be walking, and you’d end up stumbling upon a little witch and a ghost hanging out on a tombstone, surrounded by all kinds of fun items. But it could just be some idiot poser without a clue. All kinds of people these days were into that New Age bullshit that Miriam had seen on television advertised late at night. Famous people made all sorts of money selling the bullshit, selling ideas of nonsense as real magic. This could just be nonsense. But, if it was real… Miriam could really go for a bit of pain and misery. Possibly even a full meal. Who knew? Keeping her distance, Miriam crouched not too far away, behind a large angel statue. She went completely still. If one weren’t paying attention, they’d simply think she was another monument to the dead. In a way, she kind of was.

“I truly wish it were under different circumstances,” Rebecca mumbled, sitting down next to the headstone. “Though I suppose I should...apologize for not coming any sooner. The book suggested somewhere of...value. So...” Theo was close to her, she could feel it, but it only made her heart wrench more, wishing she could see her. She glanced down at her arrangement and muttered a word, in her natural tongue, and the candles all lit. She smiled. “Been practicing that one,” she said, looking over at where she hoped Theo was. “Magic isn’t my forte, but small things are accomplishments, too.” She settled herself in and took up her meditation position. Legs crossed in front of her, hands resting palm up on her knees and open. Rebecca’s spirituality had always been an inherent part of her being, it was why she felt so compelled to help spirits, why she felt it her destiny to become an exorcist. Why she had the ability to astral project, and why she was here, now, meditating in a cemetery. If she could reach the other plane on her own, then, maybe, she could find a way to pull him out with her. It was a long shot, but it was one worth taking. 

She gave one last exhale and nod-- “Here goes nothing”-- before closing her eyes and concentrating. Letting the energy of the world around her flow into the circle, pulling it in, calling it with her own spirit. It was a lot like an exorcism, in the way that she pushed through the energies around her to call to the right ones, but instead of compelling them away, she was pulling them in. The circle she sat upon began to glow, a soft hum of light engulfing her. Hair waving limply in the small wind that pooled inside of her sanctum circle. She reached through the ether, through the pull of magic, and searched for it-- the astral plane. Latched on, tugged. Rebecca’s body, once stiff, slumped.

Grinning like the cat that caught the canary, Miriam decided that she’d more than seen enough. Glowing circles were magic bull shit, sure, but the real kind of magic bull shit that she was brought back to destroy. Who the hell knew what the little witch was doing? Miriam resolved herself to end it before it even began. Eyes red and fangs out, she stalked close slowly, careful not to make a sound. Just as she drew close enough, Miriam leapt forward and onto the woman in the circle, knocking them both out of it and taking the woman to the ground. She could practically feel the magic radiating off of the woman. Or maybe she couldn’t; Miriam wasn’t sure what about her feelings towards magic were her own rage and which were legitimate. She’d been so sure that the old man she’d tailed home last week had been a spell caster, had practically felt the magic burning across her skin when he’d touched her in the grocery store, and he’d just turned out to be an old man. A creepy one, but an old human man with no magical abilities except for the unnatural octaves at which he could scream. But she knew this was real, this was different, and, as she leaned over the woman, fangs out and mouth twisted into a snarl, she knew she was going to take a real long time with this. She didn’t even pay attention to the little ghost hanging about.

Theodora saw the vampire coming. She leapt to her feet, instincts from her life firing at once. It wasn’t until her hand went through the dagger that she realised how helpless she was. She could grab it again, concentrate, be more than a bundle of impulses, but what good would that do against a creature already dead? “Get away from her!” She cried. “Rebecca!” She reached for the dagger anyway, what could she do but try? What slayer wouldn’t face a foe with at least some kind of weapon? She flung herself at the vampire, sinking the blade into her shoulder. “Let her go, let her go, damn you!” She cried. She twisted it, hoping in vain that at least the pain would be enough to deter her. She could not fail at this again. She wouldn’t. If she could just throttle her, if she could just make the creature’s hands her own and make her stop…

When Rebecca’s eyes opened again, she wasn’t in the cemetery. A fog rolled at her feet, so thick and heavy she couldn’t see them. The world around her was cold and dark, but she couldn’t feel anything. “Hello?” she called out tentatively. Her voice echoed everywhere. One step and her footsteps echoed everywhere. Had she done it? Was this the astral plane? It seemed so unfamiliar, so unlike where she’d been in her dreams, while he was awake. She needed to find a way, now, to peer back into the real world. To the Earthly plane, and make sure she hadn’t just given him free reign. But she somehow felt like she knew he wasn’t there. She didn’t feel the same, heavy tug as before. A sudden voice rang out, sounding far away. It barely reached her ears, but she knew who it was. “Theodora?” she called back. Was she talking to her or trying to wake her? Rebecca turned in circles. “Theodora?”

Back in the cemetery, Rebeecca’s body still lay limp, tousled under the pressure of Miriam’s body bearing down above her. Helpless.

Miriam felt the knife in her shoulder, but instead of reacting to the pain of it, she grinned widely, too focused on her quarry underneath her. In fact, it was quite useful for her. She looked at the little ghost raging against her. “Thanks for the gift, sweetness.” She plucked the knife out, not even wiping it free of dark, dead blood. She twirled it between her fingers, admiring it or a bit. A bit of a longer, thinner blade than she was used to, but it was a really nice blade. Miriam couldn’t complain. Perhaps she should even invest in more traditional styles of weaponry. Then again, skinning knives were kind of her specialty. But this one was so lovely. She ran it along the little witch’s collar bones, digging in deep enough for blood to bead up to the surface, enough to hurt. But there was no reaction underneath her, no flinch, no pain. Miriam snarled again at the lack of reaction, frustrated by it and the ghost’s annoying presence. “Go away,” she growled out before she stabbed the knife into the woman’s shoulder, hoping for a reaction. She twisted it in the same way the ghost had attempted to do to her.

Theodora reached for the knife again, crying out, “No!” But whatever pull she managed to work on the hilt, it was no match for the vampire’s strength. She screamed, furious and wild as an animal as the blade sank into Rebecca’s shoulder. She reached for the vampire as if to shove her off with force. Perhaps she even could. She only knew she could not let her hurt Rebecca, she would not take her wife from the earth, and if she had to make her…

The shift happened so swiftly, Theodora was still screaming when she found herself in the creature’s body. “Bloody hell,” she whispered, the vampire’s voice, her tongue and teeth feeling strange after two years without a body. She tested her hands, flexing her fingers. They obeyed her command just easily as her own once had. Of all the ways… But, there was more important work to be done. “Rebecca!” She called, reaching across for her bag. Rebecca was always prepared, there had to be something to staunch the bleeding. “Rebecca, can you hear me, darling? Wake up! Please, darling!”

“Theo--” Rebecca started. In the next moment, pain ripped through her. Ripped her from her spot, pulled her back down to Earth, back into her body, back where it stayed, loud and clear and jolting. Rebecca screamed, eyes shooting open. She saw someone unfamiliar above her, even through the blur of red, hot tears matching the searing pain in her shoulder. Let me help you came the voice in her ears again, just like during the exorcism. Rebecca struggled to move, thrashing under the weight of whoever this was, pain pouring up and down her arm, into her chest, her neck, her stomach. “Get off!” she shouted, shoving at her. “GET OFF!”

Theodora fell back easily, collapsing to the ground. “Rebecca don’t--!” She cried, putting out an arm towards her. “Don’t move, you’ll make it worse! Let me help, let me help this time.” Hearing the strange voice in her ear, seeing a bewildering streak of blonde hair in her eyes, she realized how her request this might seem. She hadn’t thought things out this far. “It’s me!” She said quickly. “It’s Theo, I’m--I’m Theo, darling. For now, at any rate. I--I know the song we danced to in my London flat was ‘heroes,’ and your birthday is coming soon, and, oh for heaven’s sake, will you just let me close?”

Let me help, I can help. Rebecca thrashed again, pain rippling down her body. “Lehizdayen, hashem!” she cursed, grabbing her shoulder where it burned, feeling wet cloth stick between her fingers, the scent of blood suddenly thick in her nostrils. Forced herself to sit up, shaking with the effort, the pain, the exhaustion of being ripped from the plane like that. Dizzy, she looked up. Locked eyes with the body in front of her. And she knew. Even without the words, she knew. She could see it in her eyes, feel it in the air. “Theo…?” she panted, struggling forward, collapsing into her. “Theo, it’s you. My love. You’re here. You’re really…”

Theodora couldn’t help but smile as recognition dawned on Rebecca’s features. “Yes,” she said, tears and laughter welling up at once as she crashed into her--crashed with relief and force that Theodora could feel because she had a body. “Yes, darling. I’m really here.” And seeing her wife in her arms, having their eyes meet, truly meet and know each other, she could think of nothing to do next but cup her face and kiss her as she had longed to do since she’d found she returned. It was strange, as far as kisses went. One wasn’t usually a stranger to their own lips. But Rebecca’s were familiar, as soft as all her memories, and Theodora couldn’t quell the longing or the pent up desire in her. It wasn’t until her arm brushed against the blade in Rebecca’s shoulder, irritating her wound, that she had the good sense to stop and pull back. “I think I’ve missed you too much,” she said. “I’m getting carried away. Let’s tend to your wounds quickly, yes?”

Rebecca’s heart swelled. It didn’t feel the same, her lips were too cold, too soft, but it was still Theo. She kissed her back, her Theo, her lover, who she thought she’d never get to see again, hold again, let alone kiss again, still dizzy and weary from the pain in her shoulder. Reality began to slowly trickle back in when she pulled away, her arm throbbing. She’d been stabbed with her own dagger, something sacred and ceremonial, and it was still dug deep into her skin, tearing muscle and sinew. “We can’t take it out,” she said, looking at it, her face already paling from the blood loss. “I need...hospital. And you need--” to get out of that body. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She wanted Theodora to say, she wanted her to have this forever, to be tangible and alive and real again forever. But she knew that wasn’t right, she knew that couldn’t happen. “To explain to me...what happened.” She panted again, drawing in a shaky breath. “Come, help me up. We can...take the car. It’s not far.”

Theodora knew what Rebecca meant. She had never possessed a body before, much less a vampire. There was no telling how long it would last, and of course, even if she hadn’t heard over and over from Rebecca over the years, she knew it was wrong. Even in a vampire, it was wrong. She squared her shoulders, straightened her back, and lifted Rebecca and her things with ease. “You shouldn’t be walking if you don’t have to,” she explained, stiffer now. They were working. They needed to move. “This—whoever she is, bloody vampire, came out from over there,” she gestured with her chin. “She was waiting for you to go into your trance, I think. Most likely thought it would be an easy snack. She moved quickly. There was only so much I could do, with the way I am. I’m still not sure how I managed to do this, exactly. But how far did you get? Did you see anything?” And perhaps, could she prattle on long enough to fill the silence? Enough to somehow prolong the moment, even as she marched them dutifully to its end?

It took more effort that Miriam would ever admit for her to take control of her body again. She hadn’t actually known she’d been fighting. She’d never been possessed before, despite her knowing that it’d be a possibility. It was an unnerving feeling, to come back to her head. She groaned a bit, stopping the walk that she’d been in the middle of, and took in her surroundings once more. There was the witch, standing and looking a bit worse for wear. Good, Miriam thought. The woman didn’t, for just the moment, seem to have noticed that Miriam was no longer her little ghostly companion. She stopped the other woman, not saying a word. Then, gently, so gently, she reached to the knife still in the witch’s shoulder. And she twisted it. Harshly. Gritting her teeth and growling animalistically, a small part of Miriam (the one that had long chats with nice witches on the internet and would prefer to drink fine wine than blood) was disgusted by her own behavior. However, a much bigger part was pissed off and hunger, and damn, this woman’s pain was so sweet. She yanked the knife out and grinned savagely. “Your move, bitch,” she said gutturally, head jerking around wildly looking for the ghost that possessed her.

“A vampire?” Rebecca exclaimed, a bit shocked in her own right. “You’re possessing a--” she paused, shook her head, trying not to think about the dagger buried in her shoulder. “Then why use my dagger?” She asked, unsuccessful. She shook her head, hobbling along beside her now that they’d grown closer to the car. “I think I did, it’s...all sort of fuzzy, still, but--” A chill ran through her for a moment. She stopped when Theodora did, looking over at her, just a little too late in her realization. The blade twisted and Rebecca cried out again, feeling more pain jolt through her, more blood as the metal was removed from her flesh and she teetered backwards, exhausted from her trip and now her apparent stabbing. She staggered away from her, heaving, hand pressed to the spot on her shoulder that was now leaking excessively. Fuck. “What do you want from me?” she hissed at her, realizing that her only line of defense was in the vampire’s hands, and Theodora was nowhere to be felt. That’s not all, and you know it, came the voice in her head, and her eyes flickered red just a moment. “Clearly you’re not just here for an easy meal,” she said, still struggling to stay standing, and to focus on the actual person in front of her when her vision was blurring into three different spaces.

“I want you dead, witch bitch,” Miriam snarled. “But I’ll take you in pain.” She bared her fangs. How dare this woman send a ghost to possess her. How’d she even manage that in the first place? She’d yet to meet a loyal ghost. Most of them just pined and bemoaned their inability to move on. They rarely went for any sort of action. And they certainly didn’t attack vampires. That was like possessing the hand that showed you attention. Well, see if Miriam stopped to chat with any one her way home. Fucking spirits. She ran her finger up the blade slowly, collecting blood onto her finger and licking it off. “This is an easy meal, darling. Your pain? You misery. My God, it’s absolutely delicious.” She slowly reached out and put her hand over the other woman’s, where it was covering the wound on her shoulder. Smiling pleasantly, she pressed down hard with the intent to cause pain. “This is fun. Aren’t you having fun, dearest?”

“Witch?” Rebecca repeated, raising a brow. “I’m not a--” but she didn’t have time to finish, as the vampire was closing in again, this time putting a hand over hers and pressing down. Rebecca recoiled in pain, clenching her jaw as to not let the hideous sound in her throat out. She didn’t want to give her any more satisfaction. Let me show you how it’s done, said the voice in her head. “No,” she hissed back, to both of them, backing away again, Stumbling into the brick wall behind her that lined the cemetery. “You stay away from me.” Red eyes flickering once again, hairs on her arms bristling, standing on end. The second the vampire moved towards her again, a wave of energy shot from her, knocking her back. Rebecca’s heaved, sliding down the wall to a sit, worn. Give me control. I can save us. “No,” she said again, looking over at the vampire with fierce eyes. “Theodora! I know you’re in there! Get your ass out here and help me!”

Theodora’s grip fell from the vampire’s body before she realized it was slipping. One moment she was setting Rebecca on the ground, the next it was dark. She didn’t know how to push, exactly, for control. Had she any means of scratching, even biting her way to power it would have been easy. But there was nothing, and damnit, who knew what she was doing to Rebecca now. Theodora concentrated on getting to the surface. It had been a trick of will before, hadn’t it? She had wanted the vampire to stop. Now was no different. And lest she get too comfortable, undead bitch, Theodora would drag her back down to her place. She was a slayer. Dead and disgraced for one reason or another, she was still a slayer. And she would not hand Rebecca over to any vampire’s clutches. 

The next thing Theodora knew, the day was before her again. Her body (God help her, it had worked; she had a body) was on the asphalt, stinging from something. She looked wildly about her, rushing to get her bearings. Rebecca was slumped against the wall, bleeding worse than before. “Rebecca!” She rushed to her, but stopped just short of taking her into her arms again. “I can’t—I don’t know how long I can hold on. But I can get you to the car safely, at least.” She looked down, her face, however strange, riddled with apology, and tentatively held out her hand. 

“No, just--” Rebecca started, wheezing now with the effort it took to breath and hold onto herself in spite of the pain. “Get her out of here. She’s a...witch….hunter…” she grunted through each word with each breath, straining to pull herself up. “I can get myself...to the hospital...just...meet me there.” Staggered towards the car, hand still pressed to the open and gushing wound, her arm having gone numb a long time ago, despite the pain coursing through her chest and into her shoulder and back out again. She looked back at Theodora-- or, well, the vampire-- one last time, grieving, again, for the loss she was about to endure. It hadn’t been the same, it could never be the same, but it had been something. And something was more than she’d had in years to look forward to. To know that she had something here for her. To know that, perhaps, there was a way to get back all the things she’d lost.  

Theodora couldn’t leave without knowing Rebecca was safe inside the car. She dared not touch her injury, there was nothing she could to but make it worse, or tempt the vampire into coming back to use it against her, but what was next for them? She would run, and she would throw the vampire somewhere safe, preferably near a hunter or two, or where she might get lost in the woods until sunrise. And what then? “Wait!” She called. She reached through Rebecca’s open window for her face and pulled her into one last rough, rushed kiss. “I love you,” she said. “And I’m sorry. Get there safe, I’ll take care of the rest. She pressed her fingers into her skin, trying to memorize the softness of it, the warmth of it. Then she turned and broke off at a sprint in the opposite direction. The vampire was fighting her, somehow she could feel it, but she would get them far, too far for there to be any trouble before she let go.

Rebecca collapsed into the car and started the engine, doing her best to hold onto her consciousness. Let me, he said inside of her head, and before she could say no, her eyes closed and she fell back into unconsciousness.

The car started, and drove in the direction of the hospital.

Miriam was running when she came to, unsure of where she was. She skidded a bit to a stop, looking around wildly. No witch. No ghost. She screamed, grabbing her head. “Out, out, out,” she snarled, not knowing where the fuck the ghost was, if it was even still inside her. She was breathing heavy, not because she needed to but because the impulse was still there, even in her long dead body. She was panicked, just a little. She’d never been possessed, had no idea how to get unpossessed. The idea of losing control was devastating, and she could barely handle it. It was until she calmed down that she realized that she was alone inside her head. Or she hoped. It didn’t feel any more crowded than usual. She looked at her hands, one of them still clutching the knife. Miriam calmed herself a bit, taking in the beauty of the blade. It was still covered in blood. This was good, then. She liked souvenirs. This one just came a little earlier than usual.

[thesassybooskter]

TANGLED by Rebecca Zanetti: Review & Excerpt

Tangled by Rebecca Zanetti Series: Dark Protectors #7.8, 1001 Dark Nights Published by Evil Eye Concepts Incorporated Publication Date: May 9th 2017 Genres: Paranormal Romance Pages: 171 Source: Publisher Format: eARC Goodreads Buy Online: Amazon

I received this book for free from the Publisher in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.

From New York Times bestselling author, Rebecca Zanetti, comes a new Dark Protectors—Reese Family Novella.

Now that her mask has finally slipped…

Ginny O’Toole has spent a lifetime repaying her family’s debt, and she’s finally at the end of her servitude with one last job. Of course, it couldn’t be easy. After stealing the computer files that will free her once and for all, she finds herself on the run from a pissed off vampire who has never fallen for her helpless act. A deadly predator too sexy for his own good. If he doesn’t knock it off, he’s going to see just how powerful she can really be.

He won’t be satisfied until she’s completely bare.

Theo Reese had been more than irritated at the beautiful yet helpless witch he’d known a century ago, thinking she was just useless fluff who enjoyed messing with men’s heads. The second he discovers she’s a ruthless thief determined to bring down his family, his blood burns and his interest peaks, sending his true nature into hunting mode. When he finds her, and he will, she’ll understand the real meaning of helpless.

  Review

Ah, this series. It’s like a shiny new toy and comfort food all wrapped up in one. I can’t get enough of it and it warms my heart to hear that there will be more to come!

What do a famous thief and an upright warrior of the Realm have in common? Nothing except passion and a love for family, which is what TANGLED has in abundance. This is a fast and exciting read with everything you want in a book: passion, action, drama and family. 

For Theo Reese and Ginny O’Toole, their moment has finally arrived. After dancing around each other for decades, Ginny has done the one thing that could destroy the Reese family and impact the Realm, and Theo needs to make things right.

Ginny needs to stay ahead of Theo until she completes her life-or-death mission but unfortunately for her, Theo is relentless and focused, plus he’s a distraction and the only man who has never fallen for her wiles.

However, things are not what they seem and both Ginny and Theo have to work together to find a resolution to their problems that will satisfy them both. It’s time for Theo to finally admit that his decades-old anger at Ginny was about his feelings for her, not her hurting his brother and Ginny has to face up to the fact that she’s been running from her feelings for Theo for just as long. 

The book isn’t a lengthy one but it sure packs in a lot in these few pages and is one you’ll want to finish in one go. Ms. Zanetti has a winning formula with this series and everything she writes is a must-read. It’s always fun to catch up with old favorite characters and meet new ones and I can’t wait for the next installment.

  Excerpt

Theo had waited too many damn long years to wait any longer. He kissed Ginny, and the taste of woman exploded on his tongue. Honey and spice and all intrigue. She tunneled her hands through his hair, kissing him back, her body softening for him. Her thighs rose on either side of his hips, and his jeans suddenly felt way too tight.

He leaned to the side, and she helped him tug his shirt over his head. Then he kicked his jeans to the ground. Wait. He had to make sure. “Ginny.”

She grabbed his head and pulled him back down, her mouth seeking his.

“Wait,” he said, grasping her hands and pressing them on either side of her head. “I have to know. You need to say it.”

She blinked, her blue eyes dark pools of need. “Yes, Theo. To the mating. Not just to live, either. I want you.”

He’d wanted her for centuries, and he’d never thought he’d hear those words from her. Not really. There were so many words and promises he wanted to give to her, but she widened her legs, and he could feel her heat. “You like being spanked.”

Fire flashed in those eyes. “I most certainly do not.”

That brogue in such a classy voice nearly made him come right then and there. He kissed her hard, forcing his body to relax as he brushed the bra off her arms. “You’re lying to yourself if you believe that. Regardless, you should probably behave from now on,” he said, his mouth against the pounding pulse in her neck.

“Not a chance,” she breathed, arching into his body. Then she paused. “Wait a minute.”

Hell, no. But he levered up, letting his bare chest rub against her hardened nipples. God, she was f*cking amazing. “What?”

She writhed against him, somehow frowning. “I may be a fugitive. I don’t want you in trouble with the Realm just because of me.”

The woman was worried about him? His heart did a long roll, and his cock pulsed against her core. She was so warm and wet. “I won’t let you go to jail, sweetheart.”

Her light eyebrows arched. “Oh, I can get out of any jail. I was just worried you’d go to war or something.”

Get out of jail? She looked intrigued…not frightened. His gaze narrowed. “You are not going to jail or breaking out of jail.” It’d take a millennium to figure her out. Three of them to tame her. Good damn thing he was immortal. “Get that out of your head right now.”

Her pout was cute and sexy at the same time. God, he wanted to bind her to him forever. He’d figure out why and what to do with her later. Right now, his fangs ached with the need to take a bite. He let them slide down.

Her eyes widened, and she stilled beneath him. “I’ve never been bitten before. By anybody.” She swallowed.

“Get used to it.”

    About Rebecca Zanetti

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Rebecca Zanetti has worked as an art curator, Senate aide, lawyer, college professor, and a hearing examiner – only to culminate it all in stories about Alpha males and the women who claim them. She writes dark paranormals, romantic suspense, and sexy contemporary romances.

Growing up amid the glorious backdrops and winter wonderlands of the Pacific Northwest has given Rebecca fantastic scenery and adventures to weave into her stories. She resides in the wild north with her husband, children, and extended family who inspire her every day–or at the very least give her plenty of characters to write about.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

TANGLED by Rebecca Zanetti: Review & Excerpt was originally published on The Sassy Bookster

[theinquisitivej]

The New Century Multiverse Reactions – Let Them Go: Episode 10, A Man’s Work & Episode 11, Preparations

You can listen to the full episodes here, and here. 

After a brief hiatus, we are back! We’ll be looking at two episodes this time just so that we’re all caught up. Everything I’ve written is based on notes I took at the time, meaning nothing I write for Episode 10 is based on any knowledge of what happens in Episode 11. With that in mind, let’s dive right in.

Episode 10 – A Man’s Work

We pick up where we left off at the end of Episode 09, with Dawson just having slammed the front door on the two Barghest that attacked Aunt Cleo. The danger is certainly not over yet, however, as a quick, vicious scramble for the shotgun unfolds between Dawson and Rebecca. Each of the important motions and little developments in this tug-of-war are narrated in impressive detail, making this a memorable scrap. Dawson using the butt of the gun to hit Rebecca in the ribs and wrench the weapon away from her is odious, especially as the gun has gained the added significance of being Cleo’s final gift to Rebecca before she died. Dawson isn’t just exercising his toxic masculinity by acquiring undeserving control of the most vital weapon in the household, he’s taking something with personal meaning away from Rebecca. Oh, and before we move on, being told that Rebecca can hear Aunt Cleo being eaten was a twist of the knife. Not cool Alex.

         A little detail that reinforces Dawson’s role as the unwavering sceptic who foolishly doesn’t place any stock in anyone’s opinion except his own is when Rebecca asserts that these attackers are suffering from Egyptian Rabies, and he rejects this and immediately goes for another drink of the brandy. Of course, his wound is getting to him, so he might be doing this to alleviate the pain. Nevertheless, it also comes across as Dawson instinctually turning to alcohol when he’s failing to cope with reality. This is emphasised when Rebecca suggests the Barghest might be spreading their infection to the people they assault, and she realises her “mistake in discussing the realities of this” with Dawson. Clearly, Dawson is not the person you want to be with when you’re dealing with harsh realities.

         Sharon Shaw has done a great job bringing Rebecca to life throughout this whole series, but her vocal performance has gone from strength to strength over the course of this story. As she delivers Rebecca’s dialogue, you can feel the character’s determination and impressive reasoning as she takes in her surroundings and makes astute observations about their predicament and what the best course of action should be. However, you also feel how utterly shaken this experience has left Rebecca, with the full weight of what she’s lost coming through Sharon’s performance. At times, her voice shakes, sounding like Rebecca is moving ahead out of fear that she will collapse if she pauses for a moment. But when she needs to show Rebecca’s strength, she says her words with an iron resolve which tells you not only that Rebecca won’t back down, but she won’t give you a goddamn inch if you’re against her. The delivery of “Look at me. LOOK. AT. ME.” even made me stop in my tracks as I walked down the road listening to this episode. Sharon has played numerous strong female characters throughout New Century, and Mortimer being the slickest character in The Princess Thieves is almost entirely down to how she brought that character to life. Even so, this has undoubtedly been her best performance in New Century thus far.

         After Rebecca takes a stand against Dawson and makes it clear there’s no way in hell he’s hurting Amanda, a long moment passes, and we observe Dawson’s exposed wound. What we see is reminiscent of what happened to Amanda, reminding the listener of the ticking clock before Dawson starts suffering from the same illness plaguing Amanda. They concoct a new plan together to hold out until daylight, when Dawson can leave and send transport to Rebecca and her sister. I have to say, as uneasy as this regained co-operation between the two of them is, I didn’t expect Dawson to actually back down and agree to Amanda’s plan, even if he does so begrudgingly.

         When Rebecca sits against the bedroom door with Amanda on the other side, I was reminded of the way Frozen similarly depicted a bond between sisters and the distance between them when Anna and Elsa are on opposite sides of the same door. In this case, however, you’re not so much hoping that these sisters can reconnect and find happiness together but are instead unsettled and afraid of what Amanda is turning into on the other side of the door, painfully aware of the inevitable sad conclusion to this tale. Rebecca gets an obscured, unclear look inside the room through the keyhole, reflecting the incomplete picture she has of the true nature of what her sister is becoming. I have to commend Alex Shaw’s delivery of the narration, the picture the words create of the silhouette of Amanda and the only visible thing being the glint in her eyes, and the breathy, ethereally disconnected performance of Theo Leigh as Amanda. They all combine to make this section feel unbearably eerie.

         The way Rebecca tearfully responds to Amanda’s seemingly incoherent babble and what she believes to be her descent into madness is an all too familiar pain for anyone who knows an elderly relative suffering from dementia, or indeed any illness that slowly erodes the person you once knew. It’s difficult enough to suddenly lose someone, but it’s another thing altogether when the person slowly fades away, and their identity becomes more and more fragmented. You’re haunted by the incomplete picture of their past self which this person has become. It’s a terrible thing, and this moment taps into that heartache.

         As an ominous banging noise from below suggests that Dawson is up to something, we head downstairs with a feeling of awful trepidation.

         The credits epilogue this time gives us a neat story about James Penrose, a character that newcomers will get to know later on in the series. The benefit of these mysterious epilogues is that they expand the world of this story without compromising Let Them Go’s intimate, claustrophobic setting. We get the impression that what is happening here is likely happening in many other places like this, or, if it hasn’t reached them yet, it soon will do.

Episode 11 – Preparations

I’m noticing that the chapters of Let Them Go often follow directly on from what came before, as this chapter begins with Rebecca reaching the bottom of the stairs to see Dawson hammering away at some barricades near the window, clearly in a manner which doesn’t fully block them, making his efforts futile. Starting the chapters like this keeps the momentum going, which makes me think that this story will be great to listen to or read all the way through once it’s all over. It will draw you in, and keep you immersed as you experience this one terrible night alongside these characters.

         The sound design and narration as Rebecca reaches the cellar door to fetch the nails is very disconcerting, as they both capture that sense of dread you experience whenever you go to that dark, hidden area of your house you rarely visit. The “echo of her arm” is an imaginative description of the shadow cast by the flickering candle and conveys the paranoia you experience as you jump at your own shadows. The cellar itself is also an unsettling place, as it houses items connected to old memories which have since become rusted, broken, or consumed by the damp mould. It’s as if every positive memory associated with this place has become corrupted, even if they weren’t already by Timothy’s death.

         When Rebecca returns to Dawson with the pitiful number of nails, she makes an excellent point when she says that there are too many windows to barricade with their limited resources. What’s more, with the Barghest howling to one another outside, Rebecca suggests that it may not be wise to carry on loudly hammering away when the attackers are potentially communicating to each other and could alert other Barghest to their presence. Her suggestion that they stop focusing on the barricades and focus on being more vigilant as they face the darkness together not only seems like a practical plan of action, but also invites comparison between this situation and the attitudes of people in the real world today. There are many who would far rather make an “infernal racket” as they put up walls to keep others out and focus only on clinging to what they have while their selfish actions actually end up bringing harm upon themselves and others. Rebecca represents the antidote to this kind of behaviour, being someone who takes the time to think and reflect on a bad situation and adapts her mind to the task of vigilance and readiness, not letting her fear drive all her choices and get the better of her.

         However, just because Rebecca has a solid head on her shoulders doesn’t mean she’s invincible. In fact, Rebecca is in a very bad place right now. She’s looking after and protecting her little sister who is slowly losing herself and becoming something unfamiliar and uncomfortably frightening. At the same time, her one remaining source of help is Dawson, and he’s the last person you’d ever want to be in a locked room with in a stressful situation. Rebecca is clear thinking and has a talent for managing difficult things, but this is beyond what many people will ever face in their entire lifetimes. She is already being pushed to the limit; how much more can she take before she reaches a breaking point?

         As we are let into Rebecca’s thoughts, Dawson makes a heartless, though reasonable enough observation that the Barghest will likely attack when hungry, and they’ve already eaten twice tonight. Rebecca carries on thinking about the nature of their attackers, recalling that one of the Barghest that killed Cleo looked like her housemaid. Thinking on how the infection spreads from person to person, Rebecca finally asks the question that many of us have been thinking since Amanda was first bitten – will she turn into one of them? And has she passed the infection on to Dawson? “What was inside had begun to manifest”. The penny has dropped, and Rebecca must find a way to deal with Dawson, who has been described as snarling and growling his words throughout these last two episodes, suggesting that the transformation might already be under way. Not only that, but Rebecca must ask herself the impossible question of whether Amanda can really be saved from this infection…

[toast-com]

12-3-22

"Rebecca!" Rebecca looked up from her work to see Hank, standing in the doorway of her office. He looked excited, rocking on his heels.

"Hello Hank," She smiled at him warmly. "What's up?" Hank smiled sheepishly, a blush creeping up his neck and face.

"I was wondering about your trip..." He looked up at her, blue eyes twinkling. "And...if I could come with you?" Rebecca beamed, opening her arms, and Hank hugged her.

"Of course!" She murmured, running her hands through his blonde curls. "I was going to ask if you wanted to accompany me."

[toast-com]

Pet Names

"George?" Hank spoke up suddenly, glancing at him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." George grunted, his eyes on the road as he drove. "Ask away."

"...Why do Emily and Foduck call you babygirl?" The car stopped suddenly as George slammed on the brakes, and turned to give Hank a glare, face red.

"It's a pet name," He rumbled sharply, a flustered scowl on his face. "Why does Rebecca call you cherub, huh?" Hank blinked and blushed, looking away from George, and out the car window.

"...I guess our partners both have pet names for us..." Hank murmured.

"Yeah." George replied in a mutter. "They do." He started the car again. "Let's talk about something else."