Love Witch

daphne brooks. inspiring weatherwoman / reporter. twenty-six. "According to the experts, men are very fragile. They can get crushed down if you assert yourself in any way..." oh girls just want to have fun'

[laurielewis]

At Daphne's answer, Laurie realises how stupid his question had been. Who in their right mind would say: yes, Sheriff, I have been drinking and driving? So her denial does little to deter him, though he's relieved she doesn't protest and make things difficult. He never enjoys having to be stern with those who refuse to cooperate.

As she steps out of the car, Laurie starts to feel a little embarrassed as the question he'd asked echoes in his mind. He tries not to let it show in his expression, however, as he keeps a straight face that is equally sympathetic. She holds herself well, certainly someone who has a lot of experience standing in front of a camera. Perhaps from voice alone, he'd be convinced she did have a drink, but she moves like there's an audience waiting to give her a standing ovation.

He blinks, taken aback by her enthusiasm. One, two, three... Maybe she wasn't drunk. Four, five, six... Okay, he got the point. Then, at her sudden movement, he starts to chase after her as a hand reaches out in front of him, afraid of what she's about to do. "Ma'am!"

........ Did she just cartwheel? Laurie's brought to an abrupt halt. His jaw drops as he stares at her with wide eyes in stupefaction. "Uh..." He blinks, again. His mind went blank. A cartwheel? There was nothing in the books about a cartwheel. He supposes he could count them as three steps, taking her up to nine. He should now ask her to walk back nine steps but now he fears she'll just cartwheel three times back towards him. His mouth had almost dried up from how long he'd been staring. "That's..." He takes in a deep inhale. "That's fine, ma'am. That was... good."

She is perhaps the strangest person he has ever pulled over and that was saying a lot considering the type of people that lived in Boston. "I, um, I still am going to have to ask you to take a breathalyser test." A beat. "To be sure." Which he now doesn't really want to do but it was the process. "So, if you could just follow me." Scratching the back of his neck, he takes them to his car. He reaches through the window and pulls out the device. "Please blow into thi--" No, he couldn't do that. Cheeks flush red and his ears felt hot. He decides to hand her the device instead of holding it up for her. "Please take this and blow into it until I tell you to stop. If you could, just, stick to that, please, that'd be--"

Suddenly, they're interrupted by low rumbling as the ground beneath them begins to violently shake, as if they're navigating the waves of a stormy sea. Cracks tore through the pavement as their cars rocked back and forth. Laurie looks up to see the trees swaying aggressively, trying his best to keep his balance. A wave of panic surges through him as he realises an earthquake has struck. "We need to move," he urges, a hand on her back as he guides her away from the powerline pole they're standing next to.

[daphnebrooks-cursed]

As he reached through the window and pulled out the device, Daphne couldn't help but stifle a giggle at his flustered demeanor. His cheeks turned a noticeable shade of red, making him look unexpectedly cute. "You want me to... blow," she teased, biting her lip to keep from laughing out loud. The poor Sheriff, realizing his predicament, quickly handed her the breathalyzer instead of holding it up for her. Daphne couldn't help but smirk as she took the device, playfully responding, "Yes, Sheriff."

Just as she was about to take the breathalyzer, the ground beneath their feet began to tremble violently. Daphne lost her balance and instinctively reached out, grabbing onto the side mirror of her car to steady herself. The pavement cracked and shifted beneath them, and the cars rocked precariously, creating a scene straight out of a corny disaster movie. As a former resident of San Francisco, Daphne recognized the telltale signs, but it still scared her every time. Her mind flashed back to the stories she’d been told—how her parents had died in an earthquake just like this.

Daphne’s heart pounded as she looked around in shock. The trees nearby swayed wildly, as if caught in a ferocious storm, adding to the chaos. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation and the sudden upheaval.

A powerline pole broke, cracking and bending, and before she knew it, it was falling in their direction, aiming right between both their cars and where they stood. Daphne froze in fear, convinced she was about to die, momentarily forgetting that she was a witch. But the handsome sheriff didn't forget his duty. In the nick of time, he grabbed her and pulled her out of harm's way, saving her just in time.

Feeling his hand on her back, Daphne did what she always did in such situations: she let her body go limp and surrendered to his support. Her savior… she looked up into his eyes, taking in his rugged appearance and heroic aura, which made her knees even weaker. "You saved me." Her eyes finally landed on his badge, and she read the name of the man who had risked his life for her: "Laurence." How fitting, she thought. A true man's name.

Quite willing to stay in his embrace for the rest of the night, Daphne blinked away the moment when Laurence's radio crackled to life with urgent chatter. Her hand instinctively gripped his huge bicep for a brief second, but then she realized he wasn't just her hero—he was the hero of all of Salem. She needed to let him go so he could do his job. She would thank him later, once everything had settled down, because she owed him that. Besides, something inside her told her that what had just happened wasn't normal, that her sisters were in trouble, and she needed to reach them. She wasn't sure what she could do, but she knew she had to get to them, and she would, just as soon as she got away from Laurence's watchful eyes.

[laurielewis]

Bambi? Laurie can't tell whether she's joking or not, but he'll give her the benefit of the doubt. He'd have thought the other people, or herself, would've given her the better reality check. But if Bambi works for her, then so be it. "Yes. Exactly." He nods firmly once. "It would be a terrible thing to live with. And you can avoid it by driving within the limit." They were there for a reason!

From the way she looked, he could tell that he was getting through to her, at least somewhat. Due care exists for a reason. Everyone ought to take responsibility for not putting other people at risk by their own actions. It wasn't a hard thing to understand. He figures she'd already known this but a gentle reminder never hurt anyone. And, in this case, it might've just saved a life. All in a hard day's work, he thinks to himself. To prevent harm is just as important as catching those who caused it.

"That's okay, ma'am," he reassures earnestly. "Take your time." He hopes he hasn't rattled her to the point of finding it difficult to find her own purse. He didn't want to be that kind of presence in the community. So, he comments, "It's a nice bag."

Whatever civility he'd maintained during this interaction is quickly swept away as the bottle of tequila falls out of her bag. "Ma'am," he says, which sounds a lot like: Really? "Have you been drinking?" Appalled. Utterly appalled. This was a total disregard for basic courtesy and respect. A short sigh escapes him, and he steps back from the car as he puts away his notepad and pen.

"Please step out of the vehicle," he requests, as calmly as possible, trying not to let the irritation seep into his tone. "I'm going to have to ask you to walk in a straight line and back. Nine steps, heel-to-toe. Please count each step out loud and keep your arms to the side."

[daphnebrooks-cursed]

Daphne’s fingers had moved steadily as she rummaged through her new bag, a recent purchase that she had carefully selected to mimic the look of a Gucci she had admired in the latest edition of CLEO. She hadn’t been able to afford the real thing, but she had done her best to find one that looked just as stylish and luxurious.

“Thank you,” she had said with a confident smile, appreciating the compliment. It was just a bag, yet the way he had noticed it... he seemed like the kind of man who paid attention to details, who saw beyond the surface. “It’s from a little shop downtown,” she had added, her tone casual, lingering over the moment as if to prolong the connection.

But the scene shifted quickly when the bottle of tequila fell out of her bag. She had stared at him, observing his reaction, a flicker of surprise and dismay crossing his face. The insinuation hung in the air, but she hadn’t felt shame. She had felt challenged, and she was ready to meet it.

“No, I haven’t been drinking!” she had asserted, her voice firm and clear. “It’s for a party I’m going to…” Despite her composed demeanor, she knew she had to comply with the officer’s request. As she opened the car door and stepped out, the cool night air wrapped around her, a stark contrast to the warmth of her resolve. God forbid I show up without bringing a drink, she thought. It wasn’t in her nature to arrive empty-handed, especially to a social gathering.

“Tip to toe, huh?” she had said with a touch of challenge in her voice. She was determined to prove herself. Starting slowly, she placed one foot in front of the other, aligning her steps with precision. Each heel touched each toe, and she counted out loud, her voice strong and unwavering. “One, two, three…” Her arms were firm at her sides, her focus solely on maintaining balance and making each step deliberate and accurate. “Four, five, six…”

Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she took a running leap forward. The rest of the counts were completed in a dazzling display of agility as she cartwheeled herself to an imaginary line that she knew would satisfy his request.

With a flip of her hair, Daphne turned back to face him, smiling and folding her arms across her chest. “I hope that satisfies your disbelief,” she said, her voice tinged with a mix of defiance and amusement. She stood there, unshaken and ready for whatever came next.

[laurielewis]

"She called the house ten times," Laurie complains into his radio to Kaya. "Ten times!" Slow nights usually involved some sort of rant or debate between the two of them. Long gone are the days of tin cans and a long string to discuss whatever was on their minds whilst apart. Once Laurie had gotten over the fear of how unprofessional it was, especially whilst driving, he hadn't shut up.

"And I know what you're going to say, or I know what you're not saying, but--" Suddenly a flash of red zooms past him. That was definitely over the limit, at least 120 mph. Ridiculous, inconsiderate and so dangerous. Finally, his time to shine. "Gotta go. Got a speeder."

Turning his car around, the sirens were on and he sped up to catch up. No, he shouldn't judge a person by their car, but as he parked behind the flashy red RX-7, he couldn't help but roll his eyes. Typical. Enough money to not care about a flimsy speeding ticket, endangering the lives around them.

"Good eve-" When the window rolls down and he sees Daphne Brooks sitting in the car, his initial thought is: Oh God. He hadn't been the most pleasant to her on the opening day of the Carnival. Perhaps he could be less hostile this time around. Maybe she has a good reason. A dying grandmother, perhaps? But her ignorance screams pretend to him, and that almost annoys him more than the speeding itself.

"Ma'am--" A dip of the head as he shoots her a look with raised brows. "You were going at least 120..." Bewilderment strains his features. How did she think this was acceptable? "...in a 60 zone. Not only are you putting your life at risk, but the other motorists and the animals that cross this road as well." Turning the page of his notepad, he scribbles his pen in the top corner to check it's still working. "License and registration, please."

[daphnebrooks-cursed]

Behind dark lashes and blue eyes, something was stirring. Something Daphne hadn't felt since Brian—oh, and Charles, and Malcolm—but Brian was the significant one here. Yes, something new was taking shape. Could this be her dashing, sweet, yet rugged man for whom she had recently depleted her pantry's entire herb selection to conjure up? Had God—or as Vivienne insisted, Satan—finally listened and sent her the protector she'd longed for? The man who'd guide her through life with a dazzling smile and those big, rough, capable hands of his?

"Oh, my… I'd hate to take out Bambi…" She did feel a pang of guilt now that he had framed it that way, but mostly she was fixated on the fact that he was doing this to protect her. He didn't want to see her get hurt. How romantic.

She felt a flutter of nerves, the excited kind. Her job might not be the career she dreamed of, but if she found love in the arms of such a handsome sheriff, she could wait another year or two for the rest to fall into place.

"Sure, Offi—Sheriff, I'll just get my—" Registration, glove box… and license… handbag… somewhere beneath these witch robes…

He was precisely her type. She could already picture them raising little Bobby and Susan in a big house on Salem's grounds. She'd do the weather forecast at night and take the kids to school in the morning. On weekends, she'd whip up a nice big steak dinner for her man, and they'd hire a nanny to tuck the kids in early so she could spend the night hearing about his busy and possibly dangerous day that he faced with wits, strength, and a badge.

"Sorry, new handbag…" A reminder that a black purse inside a black handbag is a recipe for disaster. As she rummaged through her things, a bottle of tequila—intended for her fellow witches (it was a party, after all)—slipped out of her bag and rolled onto the car floor, right in front of the sheriff. "It’s in here somewhere, I swear."

[daphnebrooks-cursed]

Who: Daphne Brooks & Laurie Lewis When: 6 June 1989 (My Lordy) Where: A road on the outskirts of Salem. Type: Closed

She was late. Actually, thirty minutes ago she was late; now she was LATE. She put her foot to the floor of the leased RX-7. Her witch robes, courtesy of her best friend and blood sister, Vivienne, were almost flying out of the passenger seat, but she'd grabbed them just in time. She didn't blame herself, of course. She blamed Rob. An absolute baboon of a man. A walking cardiac arrest who was unable to tell the difference between 10 p.m. and 11:00 p.m., for whatever reason. Something about actually telling him 11:00, but Daphne didn't believe him.

With the tip of her heel to the ground, Daphne hit new records never before seen on the roads of Salem as she rushed her way to the obscure directions she'd received earlier: "Near the woods, the goat will guide you and your sisters to the fires of hell." She hoped they hadn't meant it literally, because one, she wasn't ready to leave this world just yet; two, wasn't hell meant to be all work and no play? Sure, Vivienne made it sound like a palace, but she was still new to this whole thing, and her grandparents' old pastor was a pressing reminder to maybe read the contract a little more deeply. And last, she really hoped the fires of hell wouldn't clash with her already fiery red dress.

A sudden burst of crimson light, much to Daphne's dismay, elicited a curse from her lips. "Fuck" she muttered under her breath. Lifting her foot off the accelerator, she gently pressed down on the brake, gradually bringing her vehicle to a halt and pulling over to the side of the road. Technically, she could have continued driving; her RX had the power to outrun the situation. However, as the aspiring leading Weatherwoman for News Watch, she couldn't afford the risk of a court appearance—especially not her own.

After quickly checking her makeup in the rearview mirror, Daphne rolled down the window and adopted an innocent tone. "Oh my, was I really going that fast?" she exclaimed, feigning surprise.

[antondevlaux]

Anton wasn't one to jump to talk to people, although, recently, he'd been finding himself involved in more conversations than he'd otherwise liked. Come to think of it, why the fuck was he here? He could leave, he knew that. And still, he found himself caught off guard by Daphne fucking Brooks. And it pained him to think of his conversation with Jo about his attendance. The absurdity of it. He'd come here in hopes he'd see her, as foolish and weak as that made him.

Daphne's sudden shift in focus towards him had a groan he should've silenced. However, he had little luck when it slipped past his lips, eyes shutting. He wasn't good at this. People, conversation, trying to pretend he wanted to be here when he really didn't. Her energy was unmissable. She was beautiful; the man wasn't blind. But it was...overt, too much for him. A lot of...her. There was no explanation. Still, he fashioned his features as quickly as possible into something akin to constipated (He was trying to smile.)

He could see why she was good at her job, even if her tactics were unconventional — eyes sliding to Ron with a look of 'I'm sorry you have to deal with this, dude' before finding Daphne once more when the man scampered off to god knows where.

He cleared his throat, composing himself, voice low. "Fun House, huh?" Anton's gaze shifted in the general direction of where it was located, neon lights flickering sporadically. "Well, if you like disorientation, it's right up your alley. But no, no cobwebs. Not unless they’ve added new decor since last year." it wasn't like the carnival didn't have the budget for it.

"You've got about an hour, you say? If you want something of substance," he scoffed, "you might check out the historical reenactment over by the old courthouse. They do a terrible job of portraying the witch trials. Now that, that story I'd watch. Puff pieces do nothing for talent." It sounded condescending, because it was. He couldn't help it. He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll walk you there if you promise to give your honest opinion when you report it..." It was testing her boundaries as he took one step towards the old courthouse, his brows lifting. What was he doing?!

He didn't want to hang out with her — but she was...hot. And if Jo saw... "Come on," A smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "And I promise, no secondhand embarrassment there. Just don't expect any laughs, either."

[daphnebrooks-cursed]

"Substance?" He'd just said her buzzword. Her arms folded over themselves as she considered him for a moment. Since discovering magic, she hadn't given much thought to her personal safety. However, Vivienne had warned her that while she no longer needed to fear the average man, there were other creatures out there requiring her caution. Real monsters that had kept her tossing and turning in bed that first night—the kind you only thought existed in Gothic fiction or the programs her parents used to turn off just as they were getting to the good parts. Most of them were content to coexist in the world together, but others—their male witch counterparts and actual witch hunters (yeah, apparently still a thing)—wanted her blood or, worse, her power.

"Well, they picked a hell of a night to compete…" She was intrigued, which she conveyed by grabbing her handbag up from the back of the news van. "I hope there are some decent performances." She didn't say it, but she was a great actress. The kind of great that could've made her a movie star, but Hollywood wasn't for her. She wasn't interested in that fake life. She wanted, what was it this guy said? Substance. And she wanted it in the form of forecasts and unpredictable heatwaves. It was her true calling. She was practically acing her Meteorology degree while working at the same time. Daphne couldn't help that she was just gifted. Well, that and having a very good knack for concentration potions.

"You sound like you've been to a few. Are you some closeted member or something? I'll warn you, I’m not carrying my checkbook." She only donated to one charity, and that was herself. If she hadn't been able to make her last tenant move out and will her the property with a nightmare or two about bed bugs, she’d never have been able to afford to live there. The role of street reporter didn’t come with the salary Daphne Brooks deserved. But one day… one day, she'd get there.

The air was surprisingly cool for this time of year, but perhaps that was just her West Coast roots getting the better of her. She shivered, fighting the urge to wrap her arms around her body. "So, does my informant have a name?" She was a names kind of gal. She always believed names could tell you a lot about someone. They left a lasting impression, making you reconsider things like naming your future baby Brian or whatever. If she had to guess, he seemed like a Steven—persuasive, attractive, and just a little mysterious. She liked Stevens.

As they neared the commotion outside the courthouse—a cry for mercy and a yell for justice—Daphne found her heels stopping in their tracks. The witch took a moment to think about how people had once openly hunted those like her and shivered again, though this time it wasn't because of the cold. "Seems…" She looked at the actors and considered their motives. It reminded her of visiting her grandparents in Missouri and having to cheer on the losers at one of their annual Civil War reenactments. "…a little tasteless to reenact the deaths of a couple of innocent women, doesn't it?"

[vivienneyoungx]

"You have a long day every day." In the last few months since she had known Daphne, she loved to exaggerate her days while secretly enjoying them. That was one of the reasons why she liked her, the woman always found something to keep her mood up. Most of them involved boys, or men, whatever you choose to call them. She wouldn't have been surprised if there was at least one on her mind.

Not that Vivienne was any different. Beside her reflection and her ever consuming thoughts of Stan himself, she did have a few on her mind. Carnival always brought out the pretty ones to play. They were like her own personal flavour of cotton candy and the carnival was her arcades. What could have been better?

Her eyes followed to where Daphne was pointing, which was soon shot back at Daphne. They were easy and besides, she really wouldn't want them to touch her. Did they grow up in a farm? She would have bet they didn't even see one of her movies. Nonetheless, Viv still gave in to her friend. "You could have at least chosen someone who was sweet." Her nose scrunched up. "But if they win us something - I'll bite." The smile accompanying her words was now more of a vicious one.

Watching Daphne walk over to the boys, Viv pretended to look interested, ever so shy. A girl from Salem, just eager to win a toy. Though, really, they were Gremlins, and she was just about to become their rain. So, she made her way after the signal. "Oh, they were so mean... I just think they couldn't do it... And well... You guys really look like you could?" She batted her eyelashes at them, and yet refused to touch them. Vivienne didn't need touch to get them to do what they wanted, especially since Daphne was right by her side, too.

"Come on, boys... Be the knights for us today? We will cheer you on if you like." Taking Daphne's hand, she was already moving towards the game, while not breaking contact with the dark-haired man. The both of them, followed, of course, like puppies.

[daphnebrooks-cursed]

They're not conventionally attractive, but Daphne has never really been one to get caught up on that. What she does get caught up on is the idea of a man. To her, a man should be rugged, with hands big enough to swallow her own and hair she can slip her fingers into and tousle. Facial hair is always a plus, too. So, while these two aren't her usual white-collar, bearded delights, they’re still very much on Daphne's radar. What she won't tolerate is a man who cries, especially over her. She wants their attention, but there are specific rules to it. It's like cooking a chicken: not too much, not too little, or you'll either end up with it burnt or yourself with salmonella.

Daphne glanced at the skinny one, the one with his eyes locked on Vivienne like she was straight out of a dream. That, she could agree with. Sharing a glance with the brunette, she let her pinkie slip around hers for a quick squeeze before weaving her way around to the other and settling on the edge of the stall. "So, handsome, what is a guy like you doing out here tonight without a date? Don't tell me… you're recently single." She didn't care about his life story, but if you made someone feel important for simply existing, you could practically get them to do whatever you wanted. And Daphne really, really wanted that stuffed gorilla.

She could tell her mark was a bit slow, but that didn't matter; all that mattered was his hand-eye coordination. "Oh, that's nice…" It seemed he did have a girlfriend, but she was clearly not very important—he had already glanced at the space between her dress and her neck six times since bumping into him. "You don't think you could teach me how to shoot that thing, do you?"

She giggled, manoeuvring herself and letting his calloused hands guide her into position before he told her to breathe out as she squeezed the trigger. Bullseye! She jumped, squealing in delight, as the man behind the stall brought over her very large stuffed gorilla. What was she going to do with it after tonight? Who knows—that wasn't the point. The point was it was hers now, and she had won it all herself.

Of course, now that the fanfare was over, she was bored and tired, and she also knew she had to get back and wrap things up with Ron. "Okay, we'd love to stay, but…" She wrapped her arms around her friend, pulling her away from the scene. "Have you got anything else planned for the rest of the night?"

[rogerdeakinsdp]

Cameron Diaz as Heather in SHE'S THE ONE (1996) dir. Edward Burns

[vivienneyoungx]

"Oh, you really calm my nerves, thank you!" Vivienne shot a glance at Rob, while at the same time tucking her hair behind her ear. Just to see what he would do - if he messed up, maybe he'd be fired. She wanted someone better for her friend, someone who could do their job and get her friend into higher highs. Of course, she could make him do whatever she wanted, but where was the fun in that?

Actually, there was all the fun in that. Maybe later.

"You humble me! I've always loved spending my time in Salem. Ever since I've been sixteen when I first came here, it has become my home. I mean - I could go anywhere in the world, but home really is where my heart it." She was playing right into the Hollywoods Sweetheart persona and she loved it. Maybe she would bag herself a date with another hot actor, she had her eyes already set on Matt Dillon or Ethan Hawke. "But, my new movie comes out in July called Lethal Weapon 2, so don't forget to tune in!"

Now, she was done, she felt like she had done her part and now wanted to take Daphne away from this. To have their own fun. Thus, she put her arm around Daphne's waist, pulling her close, just as best friends did, and laughed at the camera. "Yes, which is why I now must whisk you away, because your true love story awaits!" Truly, Vivienne didn't have another friend like Daphne. She wasn't sure what was it exactly that excited her so much - was it her looks, her devotion, her ambition? All of the above. Yes.

Pretending to think about it as they left the work scene behind, with a twinkling eye, Vivienne had made a decision. "Fluffy teddy, of course. We can see the men flex their arms, and vet out the ones that are good for nothing. I heard there are some pretty choices this year. We could turn it into a game?" Vivienne loved turning everything into a game. This time, she wanted them to sit on the counter as the boys shot their toy guns. Well, as they tried to hit their targets.

[daphnebrooks-cursed]

With her arms wrapped tightly around Vivienne, Daphne let out a sigh of relief. Her friend had shown up at just the right moment. After a long workday, she was ready to unwind, and there was no better way than with the company of her very best friend. "Oh, Viv… I've had the longest day." Not that it had been all bad. She had met that tall, dark stranger named Anton, who she planned to keep in mind—a 'come back and revisit at a later date' kind of reminder. Even though she wanted to believe she was ready to move on, Brian still consumed her every waking thought. She didn’t regret killing him, but there was a lingering sadness, knowing that if he had just left his wife like she had asked, she wouldn’t have had to resort to such drastic measures.

The carnival pulsed with vivacious energy, its game stalls a dazzling array of hues and melodies. "What game should we try their luck with..." she had eyes on the air pistols. It was bound to draw the men they were looking for tonight to it. Strong... egos. "Oh, look.. the two in the Red Sox caps, I bet they're just dying to make our nights by winning us one of those big fluffy gorillas."

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Daphne broke free from Vivienne's embrace, a playful smirk playing on her lips. She sauntered backward toward the stall, her gaze locked on Vivienne's before executing a precise turn, stumbling just enough to bump into one of the nearby men.

"Oh, my... heels really weren't the best choice tonight, were they?" she exclaimed, her eyes meeting his with a coy innocence. "You wouldn't happen to be able to make it up to me and maybe win me one of those big, cuddly plushies, would you?" Her hand subtly gestured for Vivienne to join in the charade. "Oh, and one for my friend too... you know, our boyfriends tried earlier, but they just couldn't seem to get the knack of it like you two seem to have gotten it."

[antondevlaux]

Anton wanted to be anywhere else, but if there was some form of entertainment that wasn't screaming 'cheese' — he was going to take it. That's what he'd hoped for when he spotted a mass of blonde hair, bounding . Give me something good, something of substance. Please be intelligent. Watching from the sidelines. He wasn't one for the limelight, and never would be. He preferred his basement, where everything smelt kinda damp if they spent too long down there. In the darkness, he'd always felt the most comfort. Was that his mother? Alive within him, even if she was pretty much dead to Anton. The flashing lights, overtly loud noises, laughter that seemed to get more boisterous — it grated on his nerves. He kept asking himself why he'd bothered. But he knew why, her name chanting through his mind like a record in the shop that was scratched. He hated people who mistreated their records. To him, they were his babies.

Daphne's energy, even from a distance, had him almost stopping in his tracks. She seemed...a lot and the poor guy, was his name Ron? He seemed like he was close to wetting his pants. That kind of women? Could eat him, and every man around here alive...not literally. That was reserved for the very thing he hunted. Anton, on the other hand, stilled like a statue when he saw her approach a family, raising a tensive brow.

Not the macdonalds...no — his eyes closed. Second hand embarrassment he knew was coming.

one...two...three...

"We don't speak to the news," the man said through gritted teeth, and the cameras were rolling...how she was going to recover, he didn't know, biting down on his bottom lip to stop laughter from bursting out...but even he struggled with self control. Laughter bursting through his lips before he slammed his hand over his mouth with an apologetic glance in Daphne's direction.

Anton glanced at Ron, who seemed to have finally gotten the hang of the camera. The tension in Ron's shoulders easing with every passing second. The success of the broadcast depended on each of them doing their part, even if some needed a firmer push than others. He didn't know a lot about it, just enough to get by.

"No point," He called out to Daphne, "Man's been anti new technology and tv broadcasting since it was introduced — you'd have better luck talking to a brick wall than getting an emotion besides contempt out of him."

[daphnebrooks-cursed]

As much as she abhorred children, Daphne knew the Network wanted that golden shot of the perfect nuclear family, right here in Salem. A sign of the times, perhaps. All she knew was that if she had any hope of making the producers see how much better she'd be at reading forecasts and tracking storm systems, she needed the numbers, the can-do attitude, and the legwork. If only it were about actually having good legs and not begging simpletons for an interview she could actually use! Where was Vivienne? She’d nail this.

Locking eyes with a family of four, Daphne put on her winning smile and waltzed over to them. The sound of irregular breathing followed her; she'd taken Ron's puffer earlier. She'd give it back later, but right now it was the only way to ensure he was following without having to twist her neck to check. "Hi there, are you--" she was cut off. The father eyed her camera and then her dress suspiciously, as if it were handcrafted by Lucifer himself. Not this one, sadly. Turning around, she made a cut sign to Ron, but a man's voice caught her attention.

Daphne smirked and shot back, "Well, lucky for me, I specialize in making brick walls crumble. Contempt's just the first crack." She briefly turned back to Ron, shooing him with a simple sentence: "Go take a break." Then she walked over to the man who definitely had her attention. "You wouldn't happen to have a more interesting story for me, would you?" It could be on or off the camera with those luscious eyelashes of his.

She'd been in Salem for little over a month now and despite a few unwanted attention from a couple of audio technicians at work, she'd yet to find a specimen of interest. Where had this man be? Tall, dark, devilishly handsome? She could feel the magic beneath her fingers prickling to ignite. A spark? Perhaps. She was definitely curious to find out.

"Oh, look at that.. I don't have another cross till-- well, let's just say I've got a good hour before I have to try and round up the human equivalent of Garfield. Do you have any suggestions of anything I might've missed? I heard the Slideshow is actually good this year..." She would have nothing to compare it to since she hadn't been at last year's one, but maybe that was a good thing. "Oh and I think I heard someone mention the Fun House.. what does that involve? I'm not going to have to get any kind of fake cob webs out of my hair am I?"

[laurielewis]

As the crowd all turn at the sound of the gagging, either casting their judgment or cackling at someone else's misfortune, Laurie runs over to Leslie. "Are you alright?" He asks, rubbing her back and holding her hair as she continues to chuck up next to the carousel. A slight wince, as some vomit lands on his shoes, and, in that moment, he notices the ring on her finger. Still, with care, he positioned himself in hopes that his stature would block her from prying eyes. Or camera. Those damn reporters, they'd do anything for a story.

It's clear, from the way they stand and look at one another, that they know each other. Or they did, once.

Leslie Dutton was Laurie's first girlfriend. Here, at the carnival, they shared many a firsts. Over by the game stalls is where they had their first kiss, the Love Tunnel is where he first told her ‘I love you’ after she let him put his hand up her shirt, the tree behind the Slide Show is where they first engraved their initials ‘LL❤️LD’ and ironically where they had their first break up.

When they finally parted ways, for good, this time, everyone knew it was coming, but they left things amicably. What made them stop talking altogether was his new girlfriend and her new boyfriend, who also happened to be his best friend.

Congratulations, Laurie had told her, as he took her back to her group of friends. Enough time had passed that Laurie found himself able to be genuinely happy for the couple, even if a little bittersweet. He’d told her he was planning on proposing to his girlfriend, too — the same one who hadn’t liked the way he’d remained friends with Leslie, the same one he’d lied to about having to look after his mom this weekend to get out of visiting her in Boston.

With a handkerchief, he's in the middle of wiping the corner of her lips when a bright flash of light suddenly shines down on them. The lens of the camera, pointed in their direction, bores into his soul and Laurie feels as if he's been caught in a sinful act.

"No, no. No, thank you." Laurie lifts his free hand to cover his face and attempts to wave the reporter away. But he's not sure it'll cut it, as the microphone is still shoved in his face. He reaches out to cover the camera and points it downwards. "Please, just stop," he snaps, mostly out of frustration at himself. How was he going to explain this one? With a shake of the head, he bids a quick farewell to Leslie and walks away.

[daphnebrooks-cursed]

She'd finally made the makeshift human cheeseball move, of course still with the pace of someone with a walker, but move nether-less. With her eyes on the prize, she turned her smile back on, "Well, Clark we've had a few upsets her tonight..." she wasn't live, but she could always send this to their editors to clip in later. "Not everyone can handle the unpredictable turns of the new coaster." She giggled, ready to give them the money shot, just as a hand came up blocking her shot.

What-the-HELL!

Shots like that couldn't be re-shot or faked; the viewer always knew. Her face said it all. She might not have seen the face of the uppity, party-pooper deputy, but she doubted it would be one she'd miss.

People like Leslie didn't deserve a man riding in at the last minute on a white horse to save their nosy asses, and yet they always seemed to get them. It reminded her of her late partner's wife. A woman with questionable taste in hair salons, wardrobes, and personality, and yet she'd managed to keep Brian from Daphne.

Harassed, stalked… unfairly demonized was what Daphne had been in that situation. It wasn't her fault that Brian's eyes had wandered from his marriage vows. Her hair didn't require a regular perm, and her cuticles definitely didn't receive any help but those at Mrs. Lin's Nail Salon (a professional). So, when his had turned in her direction, it was really only fair that Daphne complimented them on their beautiful green hues. She was like that… nice. And now, well, now no one got to admire them.

With a roll of her eyes, she turned back to Ron, a growl leaving her lips in audible frustration. "Delete that." She eyed her next target, catching the back of the sheriff as he walked away with Leslie in tow. Where was her man with shoulders like that? Where was her man to protect her from… well, she wouldn't say herself, but the hounds of this world. Ugh, life was unfair. What was the point in having magic if it still meant losing out to women like Leslie Dutton?

Oh well, whoever that tall, brooding, and horribly misguided deputy was, she knew one thing for sure: he wouldn't be in Leslie Dutton's dreams tonight. Even if Leslie managed to take him home to her bedroom. No, instead she would be dreaming of Daphne, in the form of her worst nightmare: a line full of 12-item-holding customers and not a person in sight to back her and her childish pouting up.

[vivienneyoungx]

Vivienne had been watching her friend from afar; clearly Daphne was in her element, doing the best show for the viewers. She didn't eve have to wonder how many viewers tuned in just to watch her bounce up and down from excitement. Mm, yes, Daph was a wise choice to befriend.

With a flick of her hair, Vivienne marched over just in time to reach the microphone. The viewers of Channel 7 were going to be so happy. "Oh, God, I feel so unprepared for this!" The witch flustered, pretending to be shy, her pesona that she showed during the interviews. People loved the innocence, created a whole story in their heads how Vivienne was this innocent little actress who shied away from the fame. "Oh, this year is absolutely wonderful! There's just so much excitement where I don't even know where to begin!" She turned then to Daphne, offering her a shy smile yet there was a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes. "I'm just a little nervous, if I'm honest. The Ghost train, the new rollercoaster, I just feel I might need someone to hold my hand." Yes, reel in all the men who had a desire to be saviours. "What about you? Did you find someone to tale to the Lovers Tunnel?" Knowing Daph, she probably had a few in mind already.

[daphnebrooks-cursed]

Daphne Brooks maintained her professional demeanor, though a glimmer of amusement danced in her eyes as she listened to Vivienne's carefully crafted persona. "Well, Vivienne, it's understandable to feel a bit nervous with all the excitement around us. But I'm sure once you dive into the fun of the Ghost Train and the rollercoaster, those nerves will turn into exhilaration!"

She couldn't help but acknowledge Vivienne's status as Salem's very own Hollywood movie star. "And speaking of excitement, it's such a pleasure to have Salem's own beloved movie star here with us at the Whispering Woods Fair. How are you enjoying your break?"

At the mention of her own sad, decrepit love life, the blonde sighed. "Ah, well, Vivienne, you know me, always on the lookout for a romantic adventure. But alas, I haven't found my brave companion just yet. Perhaps I'll have to take a page out of your book and enlist the help of a dashing hero to accompany me through the tunnel." Of course, she knew she would, along with all the other rides the carnival had to offer. She was about done for the night, and this was why Vivienne was here. Her one and only true best friend. The one girl who she knew had her back and wouldn't ever stick a knife into it.

Sure, their friendship was still fresh, just a few months old, but Vivienne liked to think she had a sixth sense about these things. Well, that, and her tarot cards had told her so.

"Thanks, Heather. Now, if I'm not mistaken, isn't Chris supposed to be coming down here for a ride on the new Roller Coaster?" Another laugh, another sign-off before Daphne tossed her mic and sound equipment to Ron and told him to close up for her—she was busy. Looping her arm around Vivienne's shoulder, she dragged her friend through the carnival. "Okay, so the Love Tunnel was a bust. Should we pretend to be scared and let two strapping young men guide us through the Ghost Train, or should we go hunt for muscle at the game stalls and ask a couple to win us a cute and fluffy bear or two?"

[daphnebrooks-cursed]

Who: @thecursed-starters When: 31st of May, 1989' Where: The Carnival — General Area (place her anyway).

"OH MY GOD! COME ON, RON!" Daphne groaned inwardly. Ron was the bane of her existence, with the finger dexterity of an arthritic patient. His clumsiness meant the difference between capturing Leslie Dutton on tape, throwing up as she got off the carousel, or missing the shot entirely.

"News Watch sees you, Leslie D.," Daphne muttered to herself. Leslie Dutton may not have been anyone of real importance, but she had made Daphne's life hell last week by pointing out that she had 12 items instead of 8 in the express lane, leading to Daphne being openly shamed by the remainder of the lane and told to join the other's in the cart lines.

With a toss of her hair, she approached Ron and grabbed his polo shirt by the collar. "Look, Ron," she said firmly, her voice laced with urgency, "if you don't hustle like you're trying to get to the front of the queue at a Twilight Zone marathon, you'll regret your small…" She glanced down at his seemingly flat cargo pants, "…existence." With a tap, tap of her fingers against his chest, she returned to her original spot. After fixing her hair back into place, she smiled and waited for Ron to count her in.

"Well, Chris, it's quite a sight, I can tell you that," Daphne began, addressing the camera with a grin. "You might hear those screams coming from behind me? I can assure you this isn't the premiere for Pet Sematary again, but the new roller coaster making its debut this year." She paused before a laugh trickled out in response to Heather's suggestion she put Ron on it. "I would if they made the carts big enough." Another roar of laughter escaped Daphne's lips before she refocused, a new mission at hand. "How about we hear from some of Salem's own locals on how they're enjoying this year's show so far?"

With her microphone held high, Daphne approached a group of carnival-goers, her smile warm and inviting. "Hello! YES, you! You're live with Channel 7's News Watch right now. What has been your highlight from the carnival so far?"

[dailycinema]

Cameron Diaz in The Mask (1994) dir. Chuck Russell