A/N - I'm sorry this took so long I hope you all like it though! I'm gonna start working on the next part through my shift tonight and hopefully get it posted tomorrow!
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The jungle gives them exactly one day of grace. It arrives with klaxons and crew and a mood swing so sharp it almost feels rude.
“Campmates,” Ant says, already smiling like he knows this is about to get ridiculous. “It’s time to take on… the Celebrity Cyclone.”
Aitch squints at him. “You’ve said that like it’s meant to be exciting.”
“It is,” Dec adds cheerfully. The outfits arrive like a threat.
Capes. Tight shorts. Colours so bold they feel personal. Aitch emerges first and Ally actually has to grab Morgan’s arm to stay upright. Red cape. Red shorts. Painted on. No mercy.
“I am no longer Aitch,” he declares. “For the cyclone, I am the Red Hot Chilli Stepper.”
Tom wheezes. “You cannot name yourself that.”
“I just did.”
Tom’s next. Blue cape snapping dramatically, blue shorts sitting dangerously low. He strikes a surfer pose without irony.
“The Sapphire Surfer,” he says calmly. “I ride the waves of chaos.”
“You slipped over walking out of the bog yesterday,” Ally points out.
“Waves,” Tom replies solemnly.
Then Morgan steps out.
Orange. All orange. Cape flowing. Shorts offensively tight. A man dressed like a high-vis warning sign with confidence issues.
He spreads his arms. “The Pumpkin."
Aitch squints. “You look like a pumpkin that’s found self-belief.” Morgan grins.
Ally comes out last.
Silver cape catching the light. Silver shorts glinting like armour. The jungle seems to pause, even if it’s just in her head.
“The Sapphire Songstress,” she announces, lifting her chin.
Morgan’s grin shifts. Softens. Something quieter underneath it.
“Yeah,” he says, almost to himself. “That fits.” They line up, capes flapping, nerves buzzing.
The cyclone hits like a physical argument. Wind screaming. Water slamming. Foam balls flying with intent. Ally yelps when the first blast takes her sideways, laughter ripping out of her before she can stop it.
“THIS IS AGGRESSIVE.”
Aitch is howling, sliding, shouting his own nickname every time he manages to land.
“RED HOT CHILLI STEPPER DOES NOT FALL.”
Morgan plants himself instinctively between Ally and the worst of the blast, arm braced like he can square up to weather.
“You good?” he shouts.
She nods, soaked, hair plastered to her face, eyes bright. “Don’t you dare let go.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
Tom wipes out spectacularly, skidding across the floor on his stomach.
“I’M SURFING,” he yells anyway. They fight. They slip. They laugh until their ribs hurt.
When the horn finally sounds and the cyclone dies, they’re wrecked. Drenched. Shaking with adrenaline.
Ant grins. “Congratulations, campmates. You’ve won yourselves a feast.”
Aitch drops to his knees. “I would like to thank my red shorts and my delusion.”
That night feels unreal. Food keeps coming. Real food. Plates piled high. Silence broken only by satisfied noises and the occasional stunned laugh. Ally eats until she has to physically stop herself.
“I’m… full,” she says, incredulous.
Morgan leans closer. “Say that again, slower.”
She nudges him with her knee. “Don’t ruin this for me.” They sit shoulder to shoulder, capes long forgotten, warmth replacing the ache that’s lived in her chest all week.
Aitch raises his mug. “To the final four,” he says. “Mental.” They clink cups. Laugh too loudly. Talk over each other. Stay up longer than they should.
For a few hours, the jungle gives instead of takes. Night settles kind. Ally falls asleep fuller than she’s been in days. Food in her stomach. Morgan’s presence steady beside her. The fire behaving, just this once.
Morning comes far too quickly after such a nice night. Ant and Dec step into camp while the air is still cool and everyone’s movements are slow.
“Campmates,” Ant says gently. “The public have been voting.” Ally’s stomach drops like it remembers before she does. Aitch goes very still.
“The campmate leaving today is… Aitch.”
For a moment, no one reacts.
Then Aitch lets out a breathy laugh. “Fair enough.”
Hugs happen fast but they’re heavier now, full of last things.
Aitch pulls Ally into a fierce squeeze. “You don’t shrink now,” he murmurs. “Promise me.” She nods against his shoulder, throat tight.
He grabs Morgan next, knocking their foreheads together. “Final three,” he says. “Go on then, Pumpkin.”
Morgan’s smile wobbles. “Go be loud somewhere else.” When Aitch walks away, the space he leaves feels immediate.
Final three.
Ally sits hard on her log, staring at the ground.
Tom exhales slowly. “This is mad.” Morgan reaches for Ally’s hand without thinking, fingers threading through hers like they’ve done it a thousand times already. She squeezes back.
“We’re still here,” he says quietly.
She nods. “We are.”
The jungle hums on, indifferent and ancient. But Ally doesn’t flinch this time. She leans into Morgan’s side, silver and orange pressed together, heart still sore, still full. Final three feels like standing on the edge of something terrifying and bright.
Draco could tell when the potion finally started working because Granger’s face went from a blankness that made her look almost pretty to immediately cross. Hell, she hadn’t even opened her eyes and a frown line had already appeared between her brows.
He scowled down at her. If the first words out of her mouth were ‘ thank you’ then Draco would dye his hair pink, move back to London and see if old Looney Lovegood wanted someone to hunt dust mites with.
Granger’s eyes snapped open.
“Oh my God,” she said, staring up at him.
“Not quite,” he said, more interested in trying to figure out if Granger’s pupils looked anywhere close to even.
Nah. I always tried to stay out of trouble on the street. P, Poppy, and I for a while slept in doorways of stores in the Capitol Hill area when they were closed and eventually we had a tent that we moved around Ballard/Fremont. In Ballard at different times we stayed in 3 different encampments. Then after a sweep we moved our tent to Fremont to a woodsy area where no other tents or people were and for like 6 months we stayed there and didn't get fucked with. I mean police showed up in the woods once and told us we needed to move within the week but because they never came back we just stayed and they forgot about us since it was just us and we kept the area clean and didn't make noise or messes. I've heard plenty about "The Jungle" and I know people who have been and stayed there, but they constantly got stolen from and physically assulted. I always just stuck to myself, my dog, P, talked to people in passing, but didn't let anyone close enough to steal from me, stayed out of legal trouble other than one time I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Basically I just kept to myself and focused on making money and survival. I didn't live or act like all the crazy shit that's shown in the news. There's a lot the media doesn't show about that life. My friend told me there is a book about "The Jungle" that she read if you would like to learn more about life in that area.
Let him go play with the bum bitches, ion play none of that wit em! Grown woman thick. Ian buy this.. Proceed with caution.. 📷 by @rlillc_pics #Thenewmizzluvliblack1 #thejungle #curvy #thickchicporn #thickthighssavelives #IamShe #natural #🐎 #plussizewoman #plussizeinfluencer #plussizemodel #plussizebabe #contentcreator #contemporaryart #image #mommymogul #mompreneur (at Atlanta, Georgia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CDpRA1NB7ye/?igshid=lr83l2eq4msh
yesterday on the bay 🌊✨ had an amazing time with the cast of @thejungleus & fellow @sfballet peeps ❤️ - #sfballet #thejungle #cruise #boating #sanfranciscobay #tippytoegirl (at San Francisco, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/BxdWRkhAPsr/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=ldo8ggybw9qv
