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hi hello she's back.

this is gonna be the longest author's note in the history of author's notes, brought to you in two parts, which are equally unimportant unless you like me, history/religion or writing tips. so you can skip it if you want. but before you do, here's a nice disclaimer: this chapter is a little bit kinda sad. don't read if you're having a bad day. i hope you're not.

chapter dedicated to scomicheyup because she is very supportive of this story and i love her. she also ships zitch, which is a bonus. 

part i: historical/religious fun fact: if you're Muslim, Christian, Jew, or you just read about any of these, you probably know that Moses and the Jews ran to the Sinai Peninsula. and they more or less got lost there. ever since, Sinai has been called "The Land of Loss" in Arabic, and i think that's the coolest thing ever because i didn't know about that when i made scott get lost in sinai.

part ii: u see, this chapter came very late (and i'm sorry). that is because i had a terrible writer's block. here's a tip for you if you have a writer's block or an art block or anything similar. 1) don't rush yourself into creating more. aka don't stress it. aka chill. if you think of it as a huge obstacle standing in your way and that you're trying to overcome it, it kinda just gets worse. 2) widen your horizons. if you can't write, read a lot of well-written stuff. it sorts of allows your brain to recall all the good techniques of writing, whether style-wise or idea-wise (or making art or anything else) and thus be able to create more itself. usually wouldn't recommend fic, but not gonna lie, our fandom has some reaaally good writers. these tips work for me. i don't know about you, but i thought they could help.

if you're still reading, wow, thank you. have a good day and i hope you enjoy <3

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Scott is not home when he wakes. He isn't in his hotel room either, and he isn't anywhere remotely familiar. All that he can process is that his head is lying on something soft although his body is resting on something significantly less soft. A hand rests on his shoulder, and it brings memories of warmth and relief and when Sameer found him.

Sameer.

He rummages through the messes of unconsciousness in his brain to gather all the information he has about Sameer, only to find a few available. His name is Sameer, he is Bedouin, and he was searching for something with Scott. Somewhere not very far is something about an angel, hanging onto the walls of Scott's brain with weak, thin lines and too blurry to make anything of, yet persistently making its presence known.

Scott opens his eyes, only to close them again immediately the light yet too harsh on them and everything too unfocused to see.

"Hey." Sameer's voice comes scratchy and low, as though he has not been talking for a while, and for
some reason, it surprises Scott. Oh right - Sameer also gave Scott milk that has soothed his own throat a little.

"Are you awake?" Sameer asks, and Scott feels a little too dumb for considering the question. He is awake, isn't he? But he's also groggy and exhausted and feeling foreign in his own body; he could as well be dead, who knows how being dead feels? "How are you feeling?"

"Sick," he bluntly replies, the simple word burning too deep in his throat, "and confused."

"You are sick, you have a fever."

That makes sense. A bunch of other things still don't, though, and it's making him a little too ominous to stay still. He tries to get up, but feels a burning pain shooting through his shoulders and back, as memories of similar pain shoot through his mind as well.