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blusapphire · 1 year

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Play me a memory (Billy Russo x Reader)- Chapter 6

Summary: When you first met Billy Russo, you fell for him hard and fast. Being with him was like a dream, You were perfect for each other, or so you thought. You return home one night to find all traces of him gone. You’re left heartbroken… and with a life changing surprise. Years later, you find yourself in a predicament when you unexpectedly find your way back into each other’s lives.

A/N: Thanks for all the likes, comments snd reblogs! They are all greatly appreciated! I’ve also choose a posting schedule for PMAM which is going to Thursday’s.

Warnings: Some swearing, mentions of murder

Series Masterlist

…

When you got home from that mind boggling day at work, you were met with worried faces and smothered with hugs from Betts and Jaz and you happily returned them, and then went on to smother your daughter with hugs and kisses out of relief, claiming that you ‘just missed her so much’ after a long day.

Obviously, due to the incident that occurred at the company, work was out of the question for the next few weeks until police could conduct further investigation, or so you were told. Everyone was still very shaken up about it, including yourself, so a few days off were accommodating gesture from the company. The next few days leading up to the following week were mostly spent at home, either leaving to drop Ava off at school or running out to get some groceries.

Regardless of the days off from work, that most would find relaxing and enjoying, you were on edge. Sleep didn’t find you easily for the next few nights, your nights and days were mostly spent thinking about the man you and Billy had encountered. You couldn’t get it off your mind, even when you tried distracting yourself. Maybe Billy was right, that the man was just lying to save himself from the highly unnecessary assault. It was the only thing you could think about.

And what happened after with Billy.

“-And then, after I thanked him, he tried to kiss me! Or at least I think that’s where it was going,” You exclaimed, standing by the kitchen entrance, replaying the events of that crazy day to Jaz, who was moving around the kitchen, in search of something to eat. “And he might get called in to give a statement the same time me so, yay me,” You fake cheered.

“The nerve of him,” Jaz scoffs and shakes her head, disapprovingly. “I’ll remind you, that we can still-“

“I’m going to again, decline vandalizing anything of Billy’s in advance, because I know what you’re about to say.”

“Okay I mean, fine, whatever,” Jaz said, as she threw her hands up in defeat. “I still think you should reconsider though.”

“Thanks for the offer, but still no.”

"Ughhh," jaz loudly let out what might've been her hundredth groan of the morning since walking into the kitchen, "I'm so hungry."

"Why don't you just make something? Or eat some cereal? We have more than enough." You added, referring to the endless amount of groceries you had time to get in the previous weeks.

"I know, but I'm so lazy.” She dragged out. “ I'd have to reach a bowl... then get the milk.., and then pour that milk in that bowl that I worked so hard to reach for,” she exaggerated, and opened the fridge, to dig into it looking for anything she could find. "it's just too much. Plus, today is not that kinda day. It's a 'spend all day on the couch' kinda day.”Jaz hums as she closed the refrigerator door, signaling that she found something, and pulls out a slice of pizza, biting into it.

“Hey, it’s pretty quiet this morning. Where’s Ava?” She asked, taking a large distracting bite of her pizza.

“Oh, Betts took her to this children’s, book reading thing, all day. They left pretty early.”

Jaz hums in return, taking another distracting bite of her pizza, before scarfing it down with a glass of water, making you narrow your eyes at her.

"Isn't it a bit too early to be eating pizza? It's 10am." You questioned.

She answered, with her mouth full. "Maybe.., but you have to ask yourself, do stomachs have open and closing times like a store does?"

You thought about her comment for a second, finding some truth. "Huh," you whispered to yourself in thought, "I guess I never thought of it that way." Jaz grinned, proud that she may have convinced you to agree with her.

Just then, you heard your phone ring, and when you’d picked up, it was someone from the station.

You got a call from an agent named, Dinah Madani, a name you hadn’t heard before, and you sounded confused on the phone, because on that crazy day after work, you’d had a conversation with a Sergeant Mahoney, who you told you that he would be contacting you. But you didn’t read further into over the phone, and agreed to go in to the address that was given to you. Just when you grabbed your coat and we’re about to leave, you got an out of character offer, from your best friend.

“…you, Jazmyn Carrera, want to give up your Saturday, to spent it at the police station?” You narrowed your eyes and specified, in a bewildering tone. “What happened to your ‘spend all day on the couch’ thing you had going on?

She shrugged, like it made all the sense in the world. “They’ll be other Saturdays.” She voiced, running to grab her coat and returning to the door, “Yeah I’ll…, keep you company.”

“Um…okay, sure, yeah. I guess I could use the company.”

She muttered a small ‘great’ and passed you, as you stood there for a few seconds, still puzzled, before brushing it off and walking to the door. Jaz noticed the puzzled look on your face, and turned to reassure you.

“Don’t worry, I think most of the warrants the cops have on me have already been recalled or settled in court of law, so we’re fine,” She shrugged, and patted your shoulder, before walking out of the apartment, and you followed behind, hoping that she was joking.

…

Taking the subway was something you had to again, plug into your routine recently, still not having found your car keys. You were still bummed about it, and you’d informed the police, and hoped that maybe if they found something they’d contact you about it, but it had been over a week now, and you still hadn’t gotten any word that they’d found it. During the train ride though, you found you were correct about how bizarre it was that Jaz wanted to tag along, because she spent the entire 15 minutes trying to convince you to agree with her.

“-Just think about it,” Jaz said, as you both walked up the stairs, and out of the entrance of the subway.

“Jaz,” you stop walking and face her, “we’re not egging his car.” You continue walking and she speeds up to keep her pace beside you.

“Okay, I get it. You don’t wanna use eggs, that’s fine, I mean prices aren’t what they used to be, I know. But I gave you other options, like-like glitter bombing.” She holds out her hand, and uses her fingers to count her points. “It’s fast, it’s cheap-“

“We’re not glitter bombing it either!” You interrupt, and stop walking again to face her. “Is this the reason why you wanted to come? To convince me to agree?”

She gives you an obviously fake confused look before shaking her head. “Mm, I don’t what you’re talking about…” she trailed off, before beginning to walk away.

“Jaz I know you, okay,” You reminded her and stopped her from walking again, “when have you ever went into a police station, willingly?

For as long as you knew Jaz, she was always the kind of person to never forgive or forget. She was a someone who held grudges, even if they weren’t her own, which was her own way of showing that she cared, and that she had your back. When Billy left, Jaz was by your side the whole time. She was there for all those long days and sleepless nights.

She was there when you found out you were pregnant with Ava.

You understood her anger. She was angry for you.

“Huh, maybe I did kinda give myself away,” she tilts her head and thinks to herself, before continuing, “but he deserves it! A hundred times over too.” You nod in agreement, and she continued.

“For ripping your heart out, stomping on it, playing whack-a-mole with it, then blonde voyaging right out of your life!” She articulated, throwing her hands up in an angry gesture.

Puzzled, you corrected her. “It’s bon voyage, and that’s not how you use that in a sentence.”

“It’s not blonde?-whatever- I’m just saying,” a stern expression paints her face, and she sighs, “ I remember what it was like for you after Billy left, okay. It was hell, okay?”

“Jaz,” you sighed, “you’re right, it was a very, very shitty time for me, and thank you for hating him right along with me,” you started walking again and put your hand on her shoulder, “even though it is very tempting…, it won’t fix anything.”

You could tell that Jaz didn’t like your answer, but she eventually accepted. “Okay,” she sighed and crossed her arms, “if you don’t want me to, then I won’t.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I really do appreciate the sentiment though.”

“Did he ever tell you where the hell he’s been anyway? Or why he just, disappeared? I mean, what you guys had…, that shit, was love, if I’d ever seen it.”

You looked down at the ground at that, your mood shifting due to the reminder.

“He used to make you, so happy,- like I used to catch smiling to yourself, and you used to practically click your heels whenever-“

“Okay, that’s a lie, I would not click my heels,” you corrected, holding out your hands, “and…I didn’t really ask him, but he said that it was ‘complicated,’ whatever that means,” you scoffed. “ it was just him trying to make up an excuse, and not face up to what he did, ‘cause the damage he left was right in his face. ”

Jaz watched you sympathetically as you spoke. “I wish I had an answer for Ava- I wish I had an answer for myself, one that hurt less than the truth anyway…” you trailed off and let out a humorless laugh, as you reached the police station, and sighed.

“That I was just another name added to his long list of women that he’d fooled over the years. He wasn’t happy, and he didn’t know how to break it off, so he took the easy way out, because he didn’t have the balls to tell me. And now, I don’t know if he’s just trying to entertain himself for the time being, by trying to weasel his way back into my life, because it doesn’t matter. Because his shit doesn’t work on me anymore.” You voiced, shrugging.

Jaz looked, like she felt bad for bringing it up, but you assured her it was fine, before you made your way into the police station.

The station you were called into looked office like, and when you got there, you were escorted to a waiting area, and were told you would be called in by an agent. It was different from any other station you’d been to, and looked more like it were headquarters for company.

You could see through the windows, and the people in the rooms could see you right back, as they were made of glass. Even though it wasn’t a typical police station, being in the building with that many police made you think back to the last time you were in a police station. After Billy left, it was the only place you knew for months straight. And it also made you think back to the first time you were ever in a station.

After that horrific night. The night that you could never forget.

When you got to the waiting area you weren’t surprised by the face that met yours, his head tilting up to look at yours, with a large smile across it, as you approached.

Speak of the devil…” you lowly muttered to Jaz, annoyance in your voice.

Billy was dressed in his regular suit and tie, and his coat in hand. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him since that night he’d dropped you off at your apartment and tied to, what you thought was, kiss you.

“Well, I think I saw a vending machine on our way in, and since you won’t let me swipe his keys so we can mess with his car, I don’t think I’ll be able to control my sticky fingers, so I’m gonna go get some snacks. And In the words of or lovely Ava, just yelp for help.”

You nod with a laugh, as Jaz walks back in the direction you both came, and you walk over to the waiting area, where Billy is already seated.

“Good morning to you,” he says with a smile, Was that, Jaz that I just saw?” He asks, motioning to the place you were standing before.

“Yup, she saw a vending machine on her way in and…you know her and her snacks,” you sit in the only seat left, next to Billy, “you can’t keep ‘em apart.”

“Right, I remember, she was always very.. serious about her food.” He said nodding. You both were quiet for a minute, which was beyond awkward, and he continued. “How have you been? I-I haven’t seen you since-“

“Since we escaped that building of doom? I’m fine. I just wanna do this and go.” You could tell that Billy agreed, but then he looked like he had something on his mind, which he tried to voice.

“Uh, I’ve been meaning to talk to you, about the other day,-“

“Billy, there’s nothing to talk about, because nothing happened, and nothing was going to happen. Okay? No chance.” You blurted out, ending the conversation before it began. Billy seemed a bit disappointed at your answer, but nodded anyway.

“Alright, okay. But there was also something else I wanted to talk about.”

You didn’t really believe him, but you decided to hear him out. “I’m listening.”

“So that guy, that we ran into in the building, I think we should… keep that between us.”

“You shifted in your seat, confused. “What do you mean? You mean, keep that from the police?”

“Yeah, I just think, it’d be, smarter to not tell anyone.”

“Not even the police? It could probably help then catch the guys you know, if we told them what the guy told us. Like how we heard they were sent by some guy, and how they were looking for somethi-“

“Y/N,” he sighed, “It would be better to keep it to ourselves.”

“But why?”

“Let’s just say…,”. He hesitated to speak, “that some of the cops in this place are not very, loyal to the force, okay? If we tell them anything we heard from that guy, it’d be in the system, and it could get back some people, that, trust me on this, we don’t want it getting back to.”

“What people? Billy, you’re not making any sense, at all-,” Billy touching your arm, causes you to stop talking and look at him. His hand felt tense on your arm, a serious look stretched across his face, and his eyes looked to have a mix of worry and softness in them, which you found to be incredibly strange for dealing with the police, since the police’s job was to help people. Maybe he did know what he was talking about, since he ran into police a lot at his job.

“Just, please… trust me. Okay?”

You hesitated, but eventually nodded, and put your hands up in defense, “Okay. I won’t say anything.” And your works seemed to relax Billy, prompting him to take his hand off your arm. “But for future reference, you should really stop saying that, because it absolutely, does not have the effect you think it does.” you admitted to him.

He relaxed at that, and you turned to make a comment at what he was wearing.“Is that three piece suit glued to you or something? It’s Saturday.”

He chuckled at that, and moved closer to you, if it was possible, and put his arm around the neck of your chair. “It in fact, not glued to me, and it comes off pretty easy, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’d be glad to show-“

“Forget it. I regret having asked in the first place. Leave it to only you to that.” You expressed, lightly shoving his arm away.

“Yeah, but you used to love it.”

“Hm, I wonder what changed?” You voiced, putting your finger on your lip in a thinking stance. “Anyway, I got a call from, an Agent Madani this morning? Is that who called you in too?”

“Ahh, yeah. Not personally on the phone, but I’m not surprised that she’s in charge of this case. She’s very… persistent in her work. Stops at nothing to get to the bottom of a case.”

“Wait, you know her?” You asked, shifting in your seat at his information.

“Yeah…” he sighed deeply, “sometimes the police and my guys clash. So I’ve ran into her a few times on the job. ”

“Huh, you seem to run into a lot of people on said job.” You remarked, raising your eyebrows and leaning back in your chair, and resting your head on the wall behind you and staring at the ceiling.

Billy didn’t say anything for a minute or so, opting to just smirk to himself, which you noticed, and you lowered your gaze from the ceiling to look at him.

“Is something funny?”

He looks over at you, a smirk still on his face, as if he found something amusing.“-No, nothing’s, -nothing’s funny at all.” He shrugged and put his hands up in defense.

After he didn’t say anything more, you went back to resting your head on the wall behind you when him speaking, made you look at him again.

“It’s just that, if I didn’t…know any better, I’d say that,” he closed one of his eyes as if he was thinking, “you sound a little jealo-“

“Then you don’t know any better, because you actually thought to finish that sentence.” You interrupted, his words making you sit up in your chair. “I only commented, because that’s what you said last time about the, sergeant guy, and I just wanted to know who I was going to be dealing with. Obviously.” You shared, dragging out the last word.

He was still smirking, so you opted to share further.

“If you think that I’m jealous,” you sat up further, pointing to yourself, “then that tie is on a little too tight. Like you’ve officially, lost your mind.We’re not together anymore you can do whatever you want.”

“Okay,” he cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his seat, a smirk still painting his face. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

He shrugged. “Cool.”

“Great.”

“Fine.”

You both sat in silence for the next few minutes, and you thought, actually had hoped that it would’ve stayed that way, but Billy started another conversation.

“…So I never got chance to ask you, ‘cause we were busy, trying not captured and stuff in that building, but you and this Nick character-“

“Oh god…” you groaned to yourself.

“-Are you like” he looked like he had a hard time getting the words out, “together or something?”

“Billy…”

“-I mean if you wanted flowers, I could’ve gotten you flowers,-like I was getting to that,” he sat up now, and looked perplexed, “And I mean the ones he got you, anyways, you told me, that you don’t even like those kinds-“

“It’s the thought that counts Billy, and not that it’s any of your business, but if you must know, we’ve been on two dates.” You paused before adding, “so far. ‘Cause they’ll probably be more, actually.”

“So far, huh.”

“Yup.”

“Well, I just have a weird feeling about this guy, okay? I’ve seen him, somewhere, I can’t pin it down, but he just seems a little… off to me.”

“Uh, you’re a little off, Billy, if you think that you’re going to interfere with my dating life, because you ‘have a bad feeling about guy,” you spat, using air quotes and a mocking tone. “He’s a gentleman and a nice guy.”

“Well, you know what they say,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “Nice guys finish last.”

“Well this nice guy, is In the lead, so.”

Billy looks off into the distance, and runs his tongue over his teeth in frustration. “That’s great.”

“Cool.”

“Fine.”

“Fin-,” just as you were about to finish your sentence, you both hear a loud knocking on the glass behind you, prompting you and Billy to turn around, and when you do, you’re both met with a man, annoyance painting his face.

“Are you guys done!?” He threw his hands up in frustration, and his voice sounded muffled. “I can hear you through the glass. Jeez,” He complained, scoffing.

You mouthed a quick ‘sorry’, while Billy said nothing and turned back around, irritation on his face.

You both sat there in silence after that, not saying anything, when the loud sound of heels coming towards you, prompts you to look up. It was a woman, and she was pretty, and her short curly hair falling just around her neck, fit her perfectly. She approached you, and introduced herself.

“Hello, Ms.Y/L/N, I’m Agent Dinah Madani, Homeland Security, we spoke on the phone. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” She said with a smile.

You noticed an accent when she spoke, her voice sounding friendly. But her smile didn’t seem very genuine to you and looked more, forced, but you otherwise took the hand she held out to you and shook it.

“Oh, no, you’re fine, I wasn’t waiting too long.” You replied, nodding your head. She answers with a nod as well and a smile, and shifts her attention next to you, to acknowledge Billy, who stood from his seat.

“Agent Madani,” he started, “we can’t keep meeting like this. Seems to be a pattern we should break.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Russo,” she says with a single nod and a slight smile, that again, seemed forced, “please, follow me, Ms.Y/LN.”

…

The Agent, who went by Madani, took you to a grey painted room, that looked more like a conference room, if anything. When you walked in, you noticed a yellow folder on the table, which was on the opposite side of where you stood, and you guessed that’s where Agent Madani would be sitting.

“Please, have a seat Ms.Y/L/N,” she gestured to the seat opposite of her, confirming what you thought and you took her offer. “I really do hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. I was just gathering information.” She sat opposite of you now, folding her hands before her.

“No, that’s okay, it wasn’t too much of a wait.” You replied. “Um, did you say that you were Homeland Security?” You asked, to confirm.

“Correct. Most of the time when it’s a large company like this one, with a situation as big as this one, we get pulled in. Is that okay?”

You found it weird that she was asking you that, since it wasn’t like you had much of a choice in selecting which kinds of police would look into the situation, but you nodded anyway.

“Oh, yeah no, that’s… fine, I guess. I mean,” you shrugged, “I just don’t know how these things go.”

“Right. Well, I have a few questions for you, pertaining to what happened that day.” She says and you nod, a sign for her to ask her questions.

“Can you tell me how you were able to get out of the building?”

“Well, I was with Mr. Russo, the entire time, so it was really him who got me out of there.”

“And I was told it was you, Mr.Russo, and another individual, who were the only ones that were able to make it out the building, without police interference.”

“Yes.” You nodded.

“And you were together the entire time?”

“…yes. That’s correct.”

“And… neither one of you were harmed? There were several others, who made it out, that had to be taken to the E.R.”

“Yeah, I know it was, terrible, but Mr. Russo made sure we got out of there unharmed.”

“Hm.” She made a slight face as she bummed to herself, “ I find it… a little hard to believe, that you all just, made it out unharmed.”

Huh. This was sounding more like an interrogation, than getting a statement taken.

Your eyebrows furrowed at that. “Um, Agent Madani, Mr. Russo was in the Special Forces, and owns his own Private Military Firm, so I don’t think it’s that far fetched…”

She nodded, “Well, these guys were able to take down his entire team that he placed in the building, who are also very skilled, so I wouldn’t say it was too crazy…”

“I…guess we were just lucky.” You said, shrugging.

“Lucky, huh?” You nodded, at her question.

When you didn’t say anything she continued, “Well, Ms.Y/L/N, would you say that you were lucky, when you came into contact with one the intruders? When you were alone, and not in fact with Mr.Russo, like you previously said before?”

Shit.

You fixed your posture and swallowed after her words, being caught off guard, and the Agent spoke again.

“They were able shut down the power in the in the building, which also shut down most of the cameras. Except for the ones that were battery powered, of course.”

“Of course.” You repeated in a slight mocking manner.

“We saw that you both, moved out of view of the camera, so can you tell me what happened after?”

You fiddled with your fingers, thinking about what Billy told you. “Again, I was just really lucky. When he saw me he just, left me alone. And I was unharmed.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah…”

She didn’t say anything for a minute, and just stared at you, with a slight smirk on her face, and you stared back, feeling uncomfortable.

“Well, I’m glad, that you were unharmed, of course.” She finally said.

“Thank you. So am I…” you lowly trailed off, as she stood up now, grabbing the folder that was on the desk.

“And the company’s been running, for over 20 years now?”

You quickly counted in your head, then answered. “Uh, Yeah, I would say.”

And it’s run by your boss, a Mr.Harrison Wilburne? He’s a very well known man.”

“Well, he’s rich, so…, and like you said, it’s a pretty big company.”

“Of course, Wilburne industries. I hear that every year, he throws these fancy events, for a fundraiser for charities?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, relaxing a bit. “He invites other rich people that he knows, and us employees get to attend so…I think he’s a pretty great person, for the fundraisers of course. We actually have one coming up soon.” She give another one of her forced smiles, as a response.

“Do you… know where your boss was, during all this?”

“Uh… I actually don’t, I didn’t really see him that day, if he was there at all.”

“Hm..,” she trailed off, “ and let me ask you, you are in a very high position, at Wilburne industries, one of the top spots?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I understand that, it didn’t take you very long to get to that position level. It takes some people years, to get to where you are now. It’s impressive.”

“Thank you, but I got lucky there too. I mean, yeah I did work my ass off, but Mr. Wilburne did, give me the chance of a lifetime.”

She started walking now, around the table you sat, which made you shift uncomfortably.

“I guess you did get lucky.” She said, her smile all too forced. She rounded the table and stood near you now, the folder she previously walked in with, in her hand, and she continued.

“But I mean, it must’ve helped that nobody knew who your father was.”

You froze at the words that left her mouth, caught off guard.

-No. This wasn’t what you came in for.

She can’t know that.

Maybe she didn’t really know anything and was just trying to intimidate you. For some reason.

For whatever reason.

Your eyes shot up to meet hers, as you felt a deep panic begin to rise in you, as she leaned back on the desk, staring at you, and you stared right back, more of a glare really, when you spoke.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, I said, your father.” She repeated matter of factly. “He’s, a pretty famous guy too, been in the news a lot lately.” She opened the folder she had in her hand and began reading from it. “Thomas St.James, A.K.A of course, Mr. White, leader of one of the biggest crime empires New York’s City’s every seen.”

Why the fuck did she know that?

There was no way she would know that unless she did some digging.

Who the hell was this lady and why the fuck was she digging into your life?

You clenched your jaw after she spoke, still glaring at her, enraged. You frozen in place, furious, but she didn’t seem to care though, as she flipped through the folder she had in her hand.

“That has nothing, to do, with the situation at hand, Agent Madani-“

“He built an empire, from drug money, and was on the police’s radar for years, and the FBI’s most wanted list, but could only be identified, as Mr.White, because he always got away clean. White slate.”

She flipped through the folder as she quoted something from it.

“And the night that he was uncovered twenty-five years ago, police found heavy substantial evidence in St.James home, revealing him to be Mr.White, which was only after police went through the St.James home, due to discovering a-“

She stopped in her reading abruptly, before returning her eyes to yours, and your eyes shot away from hers at that, staring at the far wall ahead of you, swallowing hard. You grasped the edge of the table now, your jaw clenching even harder and you couldn’t get any words out, and she continued reading.

-due to discovering a brutal crime scene.”

Your eyes began to burn now, the tears that were forming threatening to spill any second, as Madani continued quoting what she had in her hand.

“Police were near by, when.. they heard screams, at the St.James home and responded, finding a neighbor who had…discovered the suspect Thomas St.James, with the murder weapon in hand, a knife, near t-the victim, St.James’s wife… Olivia St.James.��

The tears fell now, quickly streaming down your face, as Madani read on.

“The neighbor, who was close to the couple, went over pick something up for the couple’s c-child, Y/N St.James, who was… attending a s-sleepover with the neighbor’s daughter. The victim’s sister, Elizabeth Y/L/N, took custody of the child, giving the child her sister’s maiden name. Although, St.James was charged with the crimes pertaining to his criminal empire, and the murder of his wife, he has maintained his innocence, ever since.”

Madani closed the folder now and your eyes shifted to hers, the tears still streaming down your face. Her mouth was agape, and she looked like she wanted to say something, but struggled to.

“I, uh…I didn’t know that he- I didn’t hear that in the news-,” she paused, “I didn’t know, that was going to be in there.”

“Can I ask you, what the point of that was? Any of that?”

“I just- I thought that you could answer some questions on a case that I’ve been working on involving-“

She doesn’t get to finish whatever she was going to say when the door burst open, and a man coming in, his angry gaze on Madani. His grey hair was styled, along with his grey goatee, and he wore a suit.

“Madani!” He yelled, “I thought I told you one of the other agents would be taking over for this,” he reminded the Agent, and you guessed that the question was rhetorical one, but Madani answered anyway.

“Yes..sir. But all the other agents weren’t available at the time so, I took over.” She took and breath, and replied, you could noticeably see that she having a bit of a stand off, with the man that you assumed was her boss.

“…Right..” he trailed off, staring at her with a stern face, before turning to you. “Carson wolf, Ma’am, I apologize for the way that my agent acted, for what was supposed to be a simple appointment for taking a statement,” he held his hand out to shake yours, while glaring at Madani, which you shook in return, “You’re free to go, Ma’am.”

They seemed to be having a stare-off when you leave the room, rushing to find Jaz, so you could go home. On your way out, you didn’t see Billy, and you assumed that he must’ve been in another room, getting his actual statement taken.

Nothing about what just happened made sense. If Madani had questions about a case you knew something about, which you doubted, why didn’t she just ask you? Or was she using what she knew about you father as leverage, because she believed she wouldn’t get the answers to those questions.

But who did she have questions about?

…

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@celestialams

@snowkestrel

@promnightbinbaby

@intothesoul

@weallhaveadestiny

@ramadiiiisme

@patniera

@wolfmoonmusic

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@mysweetlittledesire

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#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #the punisher

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itsroxie · 2 years

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Book recommendations for Black Women

If you’re a black woman I highly recommend reading these books. All of the books listed can change your mindset/life drastically if you apply their advice to your day-to-day life 🤍

(most of the books listed were written by a BW so if you could buy them that would be great but for those who are on a budget you might be able to find some of the books listed here: Link )

Top Starter Books

“Black woman you’re f*cked” by A. Maddie Dee (Amazon)

- This book may be triggering for some. Especially for those who have trouble with accountability when it comes to the black community, but it can be an eye-opener if you push through it. The author takes her time breaking EVERYTHING down and promotes self-perseveration. Honestly summarizing this book won’t do it any justice, just know it's a MUST-READ.

“The black girls guide to Financial freedom” by Paris Woods (Amazon)

- I love this book and I am not exaggerating when I say this guide gives you a step by step instructions on how to achieve financial freedom. You’ll learn how to avoid debt, build your wealth, invest, etc. The book is easy to understand it serves its purpose.

“The self care prescription” by Robyn L. Gobin (Amazon)

- Our mental health is really important. If you aren’t ready for therapy yet, don’t know how to start prioritizing your mental health, or just need some tips this book can be a great resource. Written by a black woman: Robyn L. Gobin, Ph.D. a licensed psychologist.

“F*ck that cape” by Jennifer Arnise (Amazon)

- If you have trouble putting yourself first and need help working on your self-esteem this book will assist you with all of those issues, and hopefully, help you realize you don’t have to play captain save a hoe with everyone in your life.

“The sojourner’s passport” by Khadija Nassif (Amazon)

- Do you want to see a change in your life? Do you need dating advice? Like actual dating advice that takes into account the current state of the black community. Well, look no further, this book will address every concern you can have and ways you can get your dream life. (Heads up this book is catered to / for DARKSKIN BW)

“The smart girl’s guide to getting what you want” by Mary Hartley (Amazon)

- Do I really need to explain? It’s pretty self explanatory right?

“Stop wearing the pants” by Chloe (Amazon)

- For those who want a life of leisure, and are interested in hypergamy and femininity this book will answer all of your questions regarding the lifestyle. It’ll help clear up any confusion you may have about the topic and the purpose of hypergamy.

“How to ask a man for money” by Ava Venus (Amazon)

- Men are gonna be a part of your life (even if you aren’t attracted to them), so it’s best that you learn right now 👀 closed mouths don’t get fed 🤐

Bonus Books

“Difficult Mothers Adult Daughters” by Karen C. L. Anderson (Amazon)

- If you didn’t have the best relationship with your mother growing up this book is a godsend. It’ll help you navigate your relationship with your mom and show you ways to heal from your past. (there is also a journal you can use with this book. link)

“No Thanks” by Keturah Kendrick (Amazon)

- If you wanna hear more about ditching the cape but from another author No Thanks gives you that perspective.

“The Black girl’s guide to being blissfully feminine” by Candice Adewole (Amazon)

- Please don’t be turned away by the title. It’s none of that YouTube femininity coach bullsh!t. The black girl's guide contains regular advice on how to take care of yourself mentally and physically. While getting in touch with yourself whether it's through traveling, developing your skills, learning about your culture, etc. Highly recommend it if you want a bit of guidance. It also has a little bit of financial advice.

I hope these books help y’all through this journey called life 🤍

xoxo mrs.degree ❣️

p.s click on amazon for the links

#feminine black women #black women in luxury #hypergamy #high maintenance #mrs.degree resources #spoiled girlfriend #educated black women #adulthood

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commanderquinn · 10 months

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Good Space Chapter 4: Ya Better Stop

! i dont! keep these posts! updated! like i do! ao3!

that means you're going to find typos and shit (and possibly minor detail changes) that don't match the ao3 version! that's because im not going to bother fixing the tumblr posts until i finish good space as a whole. im only uploading them here as a backup tbh

—

master list / ao3 chapter link

—

warnings: james buchanan barnes being james buchanan barnes (derogatory) (i HATE him sm u dont even know), theres a lab scene but no bad brain talk i promise

song: sinatra has arrived babes!!! it is time for the golden oldies to begin their invasion 🥰

ava gets first pov this time!! probably a repeating thing, all i know rn is i needed it for narrative flow. remember how i warned you way back that i am in No Rush? this chapter is one of those. no flashbacks, only extra flirting and pining 🤌

ALSO if u are a walker fan (look im not judging. but im not agreeing) im really really sorry but im abt to bully the everloving fuck out of him. i cant stand him. i cant. every possible chance to dunk on him that i find, i will take 👾

—

She hasn't seen Bucky in six days.

Ava isn't counting.

But she hasn't seen him in six days.

He's been away on another mission. His first extended one since she took on his case. She was told ahead of time, so she wasn't waiting around for his morning drop-in. JARVIS let her know it would be ongoing and that the sergeant would be unavailable due to the stealth designation. SHIELD has to be the go-between if there's anything that needs to get passed, just like when Paige gets assigned to them.

His mission status is listed right there in his file. The medical reports from the column marked completed aren't blacked out like they were before. She had to ask JARVIS to reset the file she keeps for Tony when her new settings cleared the privacy wall he keeps. That's how far the copy of Bucky's access extends.

SHIELD gave him everything. All of their records on known organizations, detailed reports on all globally known assets like the Winter Soldier, internal investigations of SHIELD itself after the near collapse of the organization, all of it. A nauseating amount of the HYDRA portion centers around Zola, unsurprisingly. She would resurrect the monster in a second if it meant giving Bucky some time alone in a room with him.

After her first night of reading until the tears overwhelmed her, she went to Steve for a debrief of sorts. He confirmed he was the driving force behind SHIELD's full disclosure to Bucky. Natasha was the backup he needed to convince Fury.

Ava managed to talk the captain into coming to her office for lunch with Paige, mainly as an apology for getting in his face. He's assured her repeatedly in the days since that it's the exact kind of moral standing he was looking for with the case. He doesn't begrudge her anger; he understands it entirely.

For days now, Ava's been trying not to let her eyes skim the vitals being submitted intermittently from the sergeant's ongoing mission. It makes the worry she isn't feeling get worse. In hindsight, setting herself as his primary in the tower might not have been such a great idea. She's been trying not to think about it.

All she's thinking about at the tipping point into his seventh day gone is her favorite Tove Lo album.

She spins around her lab on enthusiastic feet, dramatically shouting the bittersweet lyrics of stranger with abandon. Her head bangs to the beat, switching to exaggerated flips during the instrumentals. There's seemingly no end of perks when it comes to mortgaging her soul to her billionaire friend and the government organization he works for. Having a state-of-the-art lab to dance around alone in at midnight is pretty high on the list.

She still hasn't hit her coffee crash of the day, thanks to numerous refills, so she's bouncing by the time the final breakdown of the song hits. Her hair goes wild, her arms thrown up as she jumps to the rhythm. She stops when the music does, giving herself a moment to catch her breath between songs. Her fist is raised high and ready to swing to the beat of bitches as the opening blares, echoing off glass walls that would rattle if they weren't bulletproof.

Ava is elated as she swings her hips and steadies her head to sing. She fucking loves this song. It makes her feel good. Bubbly. More than a little powerful. The lines flow out of her like water, the words familiar and comforting on her tongue.

"Know your own love, I don't fuck with no glove," she proudly shouts one of her favorite lines. Her foot slams down on the floor, and she pivots herself around with the momentum of her hips. "So why complicate it? Let me be— "

In one of the most mortifying moments of her life, Ava spots Sergeant Barnes in his not-uniform, standing in the wide open door of her lab. Shock hits her before common sense does, and her first reaction is to cover her mouth. Not attempt to stop the song. The one now loudly carrying into the—god fucking willing—deserted hallway behind him.

—your guide when you eat my pussy out, Tove Lo's voice continues without her accompaniment.

Bucky was already watching her with glee, but the words make his head come forward with a shocked laugh. He doesn't bother hiding it, or his smile, behind his hand. Not the way she is with her horrified expression.

Ava's hand folds with an awkward jerk of her fingers, her eyes still locked with his. "JARVIS! Pause, please!"

—had one or two, even a few. Yeah, more than you.

"Oh really?" Bucky questions loudly in response to the lyrics, his eyes widening even further. She can barely hear him over the music. The smile he's got aimed at her—

"My apologies, Dr. Ryder," JARVIS cuts in without lowering the volume, "but as per your rules, any ongoing music in the lab—" There's joy sitting in the AI's voice; she can hear it. Pure, sadistic joy.

"Now is the worst time for revenge," Ava tries to reason with JARVIS.

"—cannot be changed without a majority vote. Seeing as you are no longer the majority—"

"JAR!"

"—Sergeant Barnes is now entitled to vote on the matter. Do let me know if you find you require a tiebreaker."

Bucky raises a hand to his chest with nothing but mischief in his eyes. That fucking grin. It's the one she's only seen in photos on Steve's desk. The one powered by a thousand watts that charmed its way through all five boroughs before the draft. It's threatening to knock the breath out of her all over again. "Is it my birthday? Did I get put in cryo on the way back without someone telling me?"

"Bucky Barnes! If you don't cut the shit—" She points an angry finger at him that does nothing to dissuade him.

"These weren't in your playlists. What's this one called? Maybe I haven't gotten to it—"

Huffing with embarrassed indignance, she gives up trying to pull mercy from either of them. She turns on her heel and heads for her desk to shut off the song manually. In one of JARVIS' oh-so-funny jokes, the window minimizes on the first try. He lets her hit the pause button without interruption on the second attempt.

"I'm pretty sure I'd remember something like that," Bucky continues in the silence that follows, coming into the lab with confident strides. He's the most impossibly smug bastard. A goddamn terror, that's what he is. She should testify to help throw his ass in jail, but not because of anything to do with Nazis.

"I locked all the dirty ones before I gave you those playlists; sorry to disappoint," she sasses back to regain some ground. "I didn't want to be responsible for giving a dinosaur a heart attack. I'm not sure who'd come after me first, the paleontologists or the cardiologists."

Bucky leans against the other side of the desk she's definitely not hiding behind. With him closing in like this, her nose is picking up the lingering remnants of burned gunpowder. "Mmm. Well. I'm not feeling any pain in my—You know, come to think of it." He glances down at his mechanical shoulder, his eyes taking a bored journey down the shiny metallic arm. The fact that his gear leaves it exposed— "That's probably not going to be a good way to tell anymore."

Her music library might not kill him, but his dry humor is absolutely going to be the end of her. She has to bite her lip for a long moment to hold back a laugh.

She lets it back out of her teeth. Her cheeks feel like they're on fire. "I'm starting to think you super soldiers have an inclination for ambushing unsuspecting doctors at night."

"It breaks my heart to tell you, it really does, but you got set up for this. And it wasn't even by me. I know. I'm as surprised as you are." His eyes glance down at her outfit while she looks at him in exasperation, the movement fast and deliberate. Mildly tame. More than a few steps up from not taking her bait in the early days of their appointments. "Gotta say, though, I'm enjoying being the linchpin here."

"Set up by who? Steve?" Though the captain had looked appeased after getting to trade shy laughter with Paige, Ava wouldn't be surprised to hear it at all. Given how hard she's been teasing the poor guy lately, she had something like this coming.

"I believe set up is an exaggeration," JARVIS says far too innocently, making Ava's eyes widen in shock. It reignites Bucky's smile.

"JAR!" She lets the feeling of betrayal surface in her voice. "How could you?"

"I have done nothing."

"After all we've been through!"

"I merely informed Sergeant Barnes that you were in the building upon his return. He was the one to decide on an early visit."

"Careful," Bucky warns with a chuckle. "She can go check for herself how much suggestion was involved; she's got log permissions now."

"And I'll be using them," Ava threatens with another stern point of her finger, first at the sergeant, then at the security camera mounted on the ceiling. "Don't you two forget that while you're plotting your next attack."

"I haven't plotted anything. Scout's honor." He raises his flesh hand in oath, then frowns, momentarily looking off to the side. When his eyes come back to hers, there's not an ounce of shame in them. Only trouble. The hand stays up. "Alright. I haven't plotted anything with JARVIS."

Ava crosses her arms over her chest, entirely unimpressed now that the shock is wearing off. Her cheeks are taking their sweet time cooling down. "Did you come here for actual medical care, or are you just here to wreak havoc?"

"Definitely the latter. You could probably talk me into the former; you're pretty good at doing that. Might take some effort to convince me this time. I'm fresh from the field—"

"Shut up and get that gun locker you call an outfit out of my way, Barnes."

"That'll work." Bucky has the nerve to wink at her as he pushes up from her desk. It makes her hide behind her hand while she circles back around. She hears his jacket land on the thick glass while she grabs a medkit, reminding her of the accuracy of her teasing.

"What the hell do you keep in that thing? Chainmail?" He doesn't have to jump to sit on the desk the way she does. It makes Ava want to shove him off of it for a split second. The nerve of this man to be that big. In her lab.

"I can take you on a tour if you want. Don't expect anything too flashy. I keep all the good shit in my end of the world go-bag."

There's a new bullet wound to be found over his collarbone when he gets his shirt off. She'd been expecting it, thanks to the updates in his files. Seeing flesh already scarred over in less than three days is still jarring.

He didn't need to come in for that field injury the other week. She already knew that from a logical, medical standpoint. Looking at the proof with her own eyes feels different, though. It makes the heat threaten to return to her cheeks.

"And how often does that one get brought out?"

"Only a few times a month, don't worry. Things have been pretty calm for a while." For the first time, he turns his head to watch her fingers check the outer edge of his cybernetic shoulder. She's expecting to see unease sitting in his eyes when she looks up. All she finds is peaceful interest.

"You missed me," Ava softly accuses before she can stop herself. It makes her eyes rush back down to focus on her work.

"Of course I did." Damn him; there's no hesitation in his answer. "It's been a week without bagels and lollipops. You wanna guess how many jokes I came up with for that ballsack roaming around your house?"

"His name is Oreo, and you will use it with respect."

"Yes, ma'am. The utmost respect for Oreo the Ba—"

"Watch it." She's already made it to his back, so she only gets a side view of the smirk he gives her in response. "In any case, he spends more time roaming around Paige's apartment than my house."

"She stole your cat?"

"No," she giggles at the seriousness in his voice. "I stay at her place most days of the week. Her dad has an auto shop about fifteen minutes from here, and her apartment is right above it. I live pretty far outside of the city. Even with the way I drive, it's like an eight-hour round trip. That's why I try to leave early on Fridays."

"You only spend three nights a week in your own house?"

"I did say try. Sometimes—alright, most times, it's less than that. Lucky for me, Oreo doesn't mind hanging out with the grease monkeys while I poke at gray matter."

"I can drop you off."

Ava blinks, her hands pausing while scraping a pick along his shoulder blade. "I—what?" Her brows pull in, trying to figure out where he's going with this latest hard turn. "At the shop? Don't worry about it. I like night drives—"

"No, your house. I can cut that round-trip down to a fuckin' blink whenever you want. The cat can come, too."

"I'm sorry, does the serum give you a roadrunner setting I don't know about?"

"God, no. I prefer to take my t—" The first sign of hesitation surfaces in him as he pauses for a split second. It makes her look up at the back of his head, right at the bun his hair is in. "I was talking about a Quinjet."

He's flirting with her, she realizes. And it's not just a throwaway line this time. He's also trying to offer her the fastest carpool on the damn planet.

"Hang on—back up a step for a minute." She watches his shoulders go stiff, and she panics. He thinks he overstepped, her mind throws at her. Fix it. "I'm still trying to get over the fact that someone gave you a license for a car. Now you're telling me someone lets you behind the controls of a jet?"

The tension is gone from his posture before she even finishes bullying him. "They threaten to revoke the driver's license a lot. Steve and I tend to scare the shit out of people when we get on motorcycles. They only complain about how I fly when I bump Sam mid-air."

"You do not try to—"

"Oh, there's no try about it. I never miss my mark, doc. It really pisses him off." The overwhelming pride in his voice makes her laugh, despite the nerve-wracking image in her head.

Ava swats at his right shoulder, trying to avoid a bruise from the metal one. She learned that lesson the hard way. "You hit your friends with jets?"

"Just that one. It's a love tap. He barely even feels anything. He's got a big fancy Stark suit these days; he'll be fine."

"Where's your big fancy Stark suit? Is Tony withholding it until you let him take you to Vegas?"

Bucky snorts loudly. "He pulled that shit with you, too?"

"Mhmm. There's a veteran's center in West Virginia that has a state-of-the-art walk-in clinic because I let that idiot keep me locked in Caesar's Palace for three days. I've never been so hungover in my life." She's pretty sure it was Pepper's suggestion. An effort to get her out of the house when things first turned rocky with Alec.

"He still hasn't managed to rope me into it. That particular string wasn't tied to the suit offer."

"So what made you pass on a shiny new Stark toy?"

"Have you watched those rackety things in action?" Bucky's head shakes with mild disgust. "No thanks. I prefer being able to control when people hear me."

"No shit," Ava mumbles with poorly restrained annoyance.

He chuckles and straightens his head up without her having to ask. She's guessing he memorized her path to his neck on the very first cleaning appointment. "You're distracting; you know that? I can't remember the last time I let someone talk me off my point. Which I'm circling back to now. How far's your house in miles?"

The question catches her off guard enough to make her stop again. "You don't know my address?"

"I—shit, I was going to try to assure you I don't know anything about your house that you haven't told me. But that's not... entirely honest."

"I don't mind you knowing the things in my file," she reminds him gently. "I wouldn't have given it to Steve otherwise."

He shifts on the desk slightly. "I might... know some other stuff about it."

The guarded tone makes her snort. She recognizes it well, having lived through a divorce to a Colonel. Gossip moves the fastest in the barracks and the lunches of wives left behind. "Like maybe who I used to live in it with?"

"Like maybe that. And that you've been busy redecorating."

"Mmm, I don't know that you can classify it as redecorating. I did manage to win a few fights about furniture before the divorce. Some of the house was built to my taste. Now all of it is."

"I'm picturing—" Bucky stops again, and she hears a surprised chuckle. "I used to think your deflection didn't work on me."

"I'm not deflecting!" She giggles along with him, trying to focus on where she's got the top of his spine open to the world. "Maybe you're the one throwing off my train of thought. Have you considered that?"

"Here I was thinking it's because no one's taught you the imperial system, and you were too embarrassed—"

"You do understand that the rest of the world makes fun of you guys for using that, correct?"

"You guys, she says. Are you still clinging to your motherland's meters? That's embarrassing, Ryder. Where's your national pride?"

"Take the moose out of Canada, et cetera, et cetera." Ava swaps out for the hydrating wipes she started stocking because of him to clean up her work. The motion reminds her that it's been a while since her last tattoo. It brings out the itch for a new one. "By the way, after I'm done with this, I'm going to walk you back into my office and show you a list of—"

"Here it comes."

"—allll my outrageously expensive degrees."

"Now, how did I guess?"

"That way, the next time you feel like bullying me—"

"I'm certainly starting to enjoy it."

"—you can remember that I'm actually way smarter than you."

"I don't doubt that for a second, doll."

The—petname makes her smile wide enough to hurt. The way his voice dips as he says it lights her cheeks on fire. Again. "Good. There's hope for you yet."

"So I've been told." He says it so nonchalantly. Usually, she can anticipate the gallow's humor reflex. Usually.

"You break my heart sometimes; you know that?" She moves her fingers over his flesh shoulder in sympathy. The fact that he can't feel anything in the mechanical one makes her irate.

"Sounds like someone had fun reading." With her hands safely off his neck, Bucky turns his head to give her a sideways look. "How many new questions did it bring?"

The look she gives him in return is almost sheepish. "Steve answered most of them; you don't have to worry about it."

"Most." Bucky's eyebrow raises momentarily. "Lay 'em on me. That's why I gave you the clearance."

Ava's trying very hard to respect the choice. She leans forward, her free hand coming up to brace on his other shoulder. There's something contemptible about getting this far into the man's personal space, especially while he's shirtless in an exam. But the idea of not offering up the human contact while he's tearing open a wound that raw—especially while he's shirtless in an exam—makes her sick to her stomach.

Bucky doesn't seem to mind the proximity. Or the touch.

"Okay," she replies gently, trying to avoid putting any rejection in her tone. "I think we should wait until a reasonable hour, though. Next appointment?"

He looks down at his lap. "I think that's a great idea. You look like you need sleep. How about we talk about it when I come to pick you up from your house tomorrow morning?"

Ava stutters around a laugh, backing up from him once again. "I haven't agreed to anything; nice try."

"I didn't say you did. I'm pushing for an answer to a question you deflected; there's a difference."

"I did not defl—why am I trying to argue with a spy."

"I don't know. It'd be a lot easier if you—"

"You're not picking me up for work in a jet, you lunatic. I like driving."

"Is it because it gives you extra time to listen to Lady Wood?" The smug bastard has the nerve to pause, giving her a chance to think of a response to his ambush. She is, unsurprisingly, unsuccessful. "Which one do you like better, phase one or phase two?"

"You said you didn't recognize them!"

"I didn't." His hand comes up over his shoulder, showing her his phone. There's a webpage open detailing Tove Lo's entire discography—her writing credits included. "Google did."

"Someone gave you internet privileges?"

Bucky turns enough to look her in the eyes, unbearably pleased with himself. "It's so helpful."

Finally giving in to the urge to remove him from her desk, Ava shoves at his naked shoulders. Six-and-a-half feet of super serum doesn't move unless it wants to, so he doesn't exactly go anywhere with the force of it. But it does make him laugh and stand back up, so she counts it as a half-win.

"You gonna answer my new question? Or do I have to do the diploma tour first?"

"Who says you'd even get the answer then?" She crosses her arms over her chest and smirks up at him. "I've been through a divorce. You'll have to try a lot harder than that for me to fall for a loophole."

The six-and-a-half feet of super serum actually turns bashful on her. Bucky's eyes take on a bit of guilt, and his grin loses most of the mischief. "Sorry. Professional hazard. I did warn you I'm fresh from the field. It takes a day or two to reset the headspace."

"You're lucky I don't mind it," she offers to try to reassure him. His heart is the last in the world that she would doubt. "I missed you, too, you goddamn terror."

That thousand fucking watt smile hits her at full force. Seeing it on Bucky's face is almost worth giving him the crushing amount of ego it takes to power it. "Show me those degrees you earned so I can get back to hearing about your music."

Ava rolls her eyes, returning to the medkit to clear it from her desk. "I'll text you the list; how about that?"

"You don't have to send me the playlist links again; you can just unlock the dirty ones. I'll find them from there."

"I meant the—" She stops to ball up one of the wrappers from the hydrating wipes and throws it at him. He catches it mid-air before it hits his bare chest. "I meant the degrees, you degenerate."

He scoffs. "Big talk for a woman dancing to pussy eating mu—"

"Is there something else you need?"she stresses with a nervous burst of laughter. He's awful. Horrendous. She missed him so much that it's ridiculous.

On his end, Bucky doesn't miss a beat. "Yeah, my lollipop. You know, I bet I can guess which album you like better. I bet I can guess your favorite song from each one, too."

She points a finger at him without looking up from the medkit. "If you say disco tits, I'm making you sit through post-McCarthy retrospective documentaries just to decondition you."

"I'd be alright with that. But you'll still have to look me in the eye knowing it's in your top three." Even if she can't see him, she can hear him smile when her finger goes back down. "That's what I thought."

"Maybe I'm just out of things to throw at you."

"Blue Lips was the album you had on. Great name, by the way. Let's start with your favorite from that, which we've already established isn't disco tits. If you tell me that it's one of the sad ones, you're gonna break my heart."

"You don't have any favorite sad songs?" She's not... entirely deflecting. The comment just sparked her interest.

"Plenty. But now I know that's not the real answer."

"Jesus," Ava mutters with a huff of laughter. "Remind me to shut my mouth if you ever suspect me of a crime."

"I'm usually the guy people call to break out of prison. Might wanna keep that in mind if this whole doctor thing doesn't work out. That said, it's adorable that you keep trying to pin law-abiding qualities on me. You shouldn't mention the theory around the Avengers; they will laugh you out of the room."

Ava bites her lip again. She's out of tasks to stall with. He caught her as she was technically packing up for the night, and the medkit never takes much to put away. Turning to face him, she puts one hand on her hip and leans on the desk with the other. "Some people would classify it as a sad song."

Bucky folds his arms, his legs adjusting to widen his stance. He wasn't kidding about the sergeant mode. "Your favorite from the second album? What do you classify it as?"

She hesitates. Giving him the first word that comes to mind would give away the song too easily. "I... I don't know. I don't find longing sad, personally." He doesn't immediately reply. Most of the mirth has faded, and he's watching her intently. "What? You're telling me the moody spy disagrees with the sentiment?"

He blinks and takes a deep breath in, shaking his head slightly. She catches sight of a hard swallow that makes her nervous, but then he smirks at her. So, one of his introspective moments, then. "No, I agree with it. Do you want me to wait until you hand over my lollipop to give you the answer?"

"You have not guessed it already."

"You're right; I haven't. I've already figured it out. But we can pretend I didn't for a little while to make you feel better."

Ducking her head to hide a smile, Ava turns to walk into her office. She barely resists the urge to point another accusing finger at him. "You're lucky I think your ego is charming. Otherwise, I'd be tempted to withhold the gift I got you."

"You got me a gift?" The surprise in his voice softens his tone.

"I did, so you should stop bullying me long enough to receive it."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm on my best behavior for the rest of the night. What'd you get me?" He wasn't following behind at first, but he is now, and he's closing in on her fast.

"Well, you said you liked my puns, so—"

"Now that's an outright lie. I've told you they're terrible—"

"Which means you really like them. I wanted to give you one to have whenever you want, wherever you want." Ava stretches over her desk, not bothering to walk all the way around it. It takes some digging in her top drawer to find the little blue box she painted. When she turns back to look at him, his eyes are moving around the office. "Here. Use it in good health."

Bucky looks back and takes the box into his hand, a small smile coming up. It stretches across his entire lower face as he gets it open and spots what's nestled inside. "This is the worst one yet."

"Thank you," she replies proudly. "It's one of my favorites."

His cybernetic hand reaches into the box and clinks against the miniature rectangle when he picks it up. He turns it around to look at the back and snorts. "It's a pin."

"Like I said. You get to put it wherever you want, whenever you want."

"So, you won't fly with me, but you'll fly with me—"

The words pull a startled laugh from her. "Oh my god, did you just try to make a pun?" He doesn't respond, looking down at the pin to smile at it some more. She folds her arms around herself, less in defense and more in comfort. "I didn't say I wouldn't fly with you. I really do like driving. It's soothing."

Bucky nods slowly. He walks over to her desk, getting in close while he puts the box down. Turning the pin over in his hands, he pulls the backing off. He tosses the gigantic tactical vest onto the glass surface, then tucks his hand under the dark leather to line up the tiny, glossy pun.

Right there. On his not-uniform. Just off to one shoulder. Toward the metal arm.

It almost brings tears to her eyes to watch. Her throat tightens up, but she can't bring herself to break the silence by trying to clear it.

"You're going to have to get me replacements when it gets shot off," he jokes quietly. She's pretty sure it's a joke.

"That's fine." Her voice isn't all the way steady. But it's most of the way there. She might have gotten away with playing it off if he wasn't the world's most well-trained assassin. "I put everything on the card Tony gave me for work, anyways. I'm hoping the accountants don't notice. Nobody really hands me a paycheck around here, so."

Bucky tugs his skin-tight undershirt back on. It makes the dork look like he's about to put on a scuba suit. "Have you seen what he buys? I think you're in the clear on that one." He leans down and thumbs at the pin now secured to his vest, making that soft metallic clink rise up again over and over. It sounds like the rhythm of a heartbeat. "Thanks, doll."

—

"Why am I looking at the file of a grunt?"

"He's not a grunt."

"He's a level four."

"He's in charge of away teams; that's not a grunt. Plus, he's got like two medals of honor or something."

"Three. What's that supposed to prove anyways? Every Howlie there ever was had one—me included—and we were a buncha drunk dipshits who couldn't tell our ass from a campfire most nights. SHIELD pulled this kid from the military to run errands. What are we doing here, Steve?"

"I didn't ask you to be here. You showed up. And I am handling a problem before it starts." He sees Steve frown out of the corner of his eye. "Responsibly. With facts, not assumptions."

"What problem? Miserable leadership reviews? He'll filter out on his own—"

"That's the kind of attitude that let HYDRA tarnish Peggy's legacy."

The unwavering tone makes Bucky look up from the file on his tablet long enough to give his friend a sidelong glare. "You're so full of shit."

Steve turns to face him in his signature cranky captain stomp. "You wanna run that by me again, asshole?"

"That might be the reason you're sinking your teeth into him, but that's not why we're here. You wanna fess up now or wait for me to find it myself?"

Steve turns back to the one-way glass in front of them and shifts his weight irritably. His arms flex where they're crossed over his chest. A century-old geezer, and he's pouting. "There's nothing to find. I'm doing my job as a level eight."

Bucky's head falls back, and his eyes roll with exaggeration. "Oh my god, if you ever get held hostage, we are so completely fucked. Every state secret this country has is gonna be up for grabs—"

"Once again, I don't remember asking you to be here."

"No, you asked Nat, which was your first mistake. She's even more suspicious, but she's not going to tell either of us what she's figured out in the last twelve hours. Not until it suits her." He looks back down at his tablet pointedly, his voice heading towards mockery. "So, if you don't mind, I'd like to get caught up before the show starts. I hate being distracted during her warm-up swings."

"Yeah, well. I don't care what Nat knows."

Bucky's laugh starts as a chuckle, building higher until it echoes off the glass. "Oh, maaan. So, it's something she's already made fun of you for, and you're gritting your teeth through it. Was he a dick to that lady at the cafeteria? The one who always gives you an extra dessert without charging you?"

"No. I don't know what he does in his down—" Steve pauses, another frown of reconsideration coming up. "JARVIS, can you forward me—"

"Agent Romanoff has already requested I evaluate the security footage of Agent Walker's public interactions within the tower," the AI responds calmly. "She did not find anything of to be of worthy note."

"Hey there, JARVIS. Long time no—hear. Exactly how many grudges are you focused on tonight?" With his head down at this angle, Bucky can see his new pin reflecting the light from the other room in his peripherals. Right next to his shoulder that just got cleaned by his favorite hippie. God, he's in a good fucking mood at the moment.

"I do not hold grudges. I am merely doing my job as a level JARVIS."

Bucky snorts loudly. Steve looks up at the ceiling in exasperation.

"Your jokes are getting worse," the captain accuses. "It's Banner's fault, isn't it?"

"I believe it is the influence of the tower's other pacifist, Dr. Ryder. Her humor is rather snappy, as Sergeant Barnes can attest."

"Don't let her hear you call it humor," Bucky argues with all the sincerity he can muster. "The last thing that woman needs is justification for her verbal crimes."

"What's that thing on your vest, then?"

The sound of Natasha's voice makes Steve jump. Bucky catches his reaction just in time to stop it.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Steve swears under his breath.

"Language, Rogers," Bucky and Natasha hit him with simultaneously. He's hoping jumping on it with her will distract her from—

"That little strip of tin and enamel sure looks like enabling behavior to me."

Damn. It was a long shot to begin with.

"Ava put something on your vest?" Steve's head is getting in his space now, trying to look around to find what Bucky definitely isn't angling to hide.

"I put it there," Bucky corrects briskly. "To shame her."

"Where is it?"

"Fuck off." He shoves at his best friend's hands as they come for his shoulders, trying to stop the effort to rotate him. He's unsuccessful.

"What is that—is that a pin? Quit struggling, shithead; just let me see. What's it say—oh my god."

"Shut up."

"I can't see it real well. Read it to me," Natasha requests calmly. Bucky can hear her blowing on a cup of coffee while he continues to struggle with his best friend.

"Shut the fuck up—"

"It says I bee leaf in you," Steve answers, his voice going obnoxiously high. The asshole is smiling from ear to ear. There's even moisture starting to build in his eyes. "With a little cartoon bee! And a leaf!"

Bucky knew this was coming. He knew it was coming. He was just hoping it would be during the next mission, not here in the tower. Somewhere he could shoot at both of them to make them shut up without having to go to HR for an incident report. Getting Ava's worst pun yet is, apparently, the only good thing the universe is going to grant him this week.

Alright. That new round of painful tactical analysis when she was bent over her own desk trying to find it for him was pretty nice, too. So was watching her dance like that. She's—distractingly nimble. Not much can kill him these days, but the sight of her without a lab coat on keeps coming pretty damn close.

"Now, isn't that precious?" The savage joy in Natasha's voice makes Bucky want to throw his tablet at her.

"I'm shaming her. Making her look at her crimes."

"Don't you go to her office in fatigues?"

"Are you gonna switch it to those when you go see her?" Steve's voice is still too high. He's close enough for Bucky to swing at, so he does, with a solid hook to his shoulder.

"No. I picked it for my gear. I'm not going to move it."

"You picked the spot?"

"Have you cleaned your ears this month? I'm shaming her—"

"Bucky, that's so—"

"Shut up. "

"—sweet. I can't believe—bee leaf!" The dumbass pauses, stumbling over his own stupid laughter. "She got you a pun pin. Did she paint this?"

"I—" Bucky freezes. He didn't think to ask. She'd been pretty choked up after he picked a spot by his left arm. He wanted to give her room, especially after hounding her about taking her home. "I don't know. She painted the box it came in, though."

"Did you keep it?"

He crosses his arms defensively. "Of course I did. She painted it for me. I'm not fucking rude."

"Can I see it?"

"Absolutely fucking not." He shoves at Steve's shoulders, forcing him back. "What's he hiding, Nat?"

She snorts, still not having moved an inch from the back wall. "What, you think I've finished with you?"

"You tell me. What sounds more fun—"

"I feel like this pin thing is pretty serious," Steve tries to argue.

"Trying to pry another reaction out of me or batting Stevie around—"

"Nat, come on, this is a big change—you agree with me—"

"—while you wait for Wakeman—"

"Walker," Natasha corrects before going for another sip of coffee.

"Poster Boy to finish sweating," Bucky finally gets out.

She takes her time enjoying her drink while they both watch her anxiously. When her eyes open back up, she looks tired but pleased. "You should check his away missions."

"Aww, come on—you're about to go in there and leave me to deal with him alone," Steve complains like the giant baby he is.

"Maybe if you bee leaf in him, he won't ridicule you."

"Shut up," Bucky grumbles, already pulling up Agent Walkman's recent away missions. He'll start there, then branch out. His best friend is being a lot more defensive than usual, so it's something good.

"Actually, check his eval for me. I haven't decided how hot I'm going in. Give me your read."

Without hesitation, Bucky does as she asked, opening up the errand boy's medical records to skim the psych evaluation. He gets why Natasha's asking. Sitting in the headspace of someone who breaks people without laying a finger on them gets loud sometimes. It can get hard to remember where the line is. He's not going to deny her the request for a check-in. Not ever. Not with how often she does it for him.

He shrugs at the end of his check, finding nothing out of the ordinary. "He's never been confronted with failure in his life. I'm assuming that's the play?"

"Mhm."

"Hammer it."

"No reservations?"

Bucky snorts. "What's your reservation? You worried about making a West Point brat cry?"

"Nah. Only wanted a second read of the land." He hears Natasha's back crack in a couple of places as she pushes off the wall, proving she's been there for a while. Little shit probably snuck in behind him when he came in and waited. "Thanks. Have fun, boys."

Steve waits until she shuts the door behind her to offer up a bribe. "I'll drop the pin commentary if you close that file."

"You make this too easy."

"I'm serious. I won't say another word about it."

"Yeah, you'll just wind Sam up to do it for you. Is it because his team got paired with Coulson's? Don't make me read through whole logs to find this. It's just going to make it worse when I do."

"You're going to be disappointed when this turns out to be nothing. I'm just doing my job, Buck."

On the other side of the one-way glass, the door to the interview room Waldorf is already sitting in opens. Natasha walks in, her head down and her eyes skimming over the file she definitely had memorized before she got here. It makes the level four who's been waiting on someone for—Bucky's eyes flick over to the timer kept on the wall to document interviews—two hours and nineteen minutes sit up in his chair.

"Agent Romanoff," Wilbur greets her. Bold choice, trying to start them off on equal footing. "Good to finally—"

"Name?" Natasha immediately knocks his dick in the dirt with.

"Oof," Steve mutters, sounding far too pleased. It raises Bucky's suspicion level another notch.

"Ah—John Walker," he answers, his posture shifting as the professional stick goes rigid in his ass. How so very boring.

Bucky's hoping Natasha provides some fireworks here because otherwise, he wasted the trip. The effort had mainly been about harassing Steve for a few minutes after a long week without having the chance to. He could be up in his room right now, bullshitting himself that he's a good enough man to not beat off to the thought of the good doctor again. For the half-dozenth time. The words she was singing at the top of her lungs sure as shit aren't going to help his efforts to be a gentleman tonight. At all.

"Right." Natasha drops the tablet on the table, letting it impact heavily. She leans over it to type in a few details as if adding him to a list. "Tell me why I'm here, Walker."

The agent hesitates. Strike two. "I'm not sure, to be honest with you. I got the call; I went where I was told."

Of course he did, Bucky thinks bitterly. That's what they taught us.

"How long have you been sitting here?"

"Well—I can't give you exact timing without checking in with JARVIS." He pauses again, no doubt waiting for the AI to take the opportunity to assist. When nothing follows, Watson's face falls, and he tries for a quick recovery. He pulls a recruiter-pamphlet-smile directly from his ass. "I know it's somewhere around the two-hour mark. Sorry, I was catching up on some paperwork. I wasn't paying much attention to the clock—"

"Do you normally have to catch up on paperwork?" She's still typing away while she lays her first trap, still refusing to sit. Lining the guy up on her razor's edge.

"I would hope it's as often as my fellow agents. Knowing my tendency to put it off, it's probably not as—"

"You don't know their work ethic enough to say definitively?"

Steep jump from competency to teamwork. Then there's the silent implication that he fucked up the competency question by going for the casual humor of someone being offered a job. That's a heavy floodlight she's pointing at his ego. Bucky is more than willing to count this as fireworks now.

"If we're talking about people I work with regularly, I absolutely do. But, no, I can't say that I know how I compare to—"

"I didn't ask how you compare. I asked if you know your teammates well enough to do so."

Whitman is trying his damndest to keep that smile on his face. There's frustration building behind it, and Bucky can spot the expectation of a test in his eyes. "In that case. I can only tell you about the people I work with the most often. They tend to be better at submitting their paperwork on time, ma'am."

"Romanoff or Agent Romanoff." Natasha's never given a shit about what title people use for her; Bucky knows that. But she sure does love to use it as a tool. "Tell me about these incident reports I'm looking at."

Some of the color drains from the agent's face. "Sorry, what incident reports are we—"

"The ones right here, from your first, second, and fourth deployment." Natasha looks up, finally making eye contact. "Why the radio silence during the third? Boring post?"

"I…. Those are—Nothing of any kind of significance has ever been on my record—"

"I don't need an official military record. SHIELD keeps the field notes from your former superiors." In a move she had to have pre-planned given how flawlessly it's executed, Natasha unzips the jacket she walked in wearing. She shakes off the heavy leather, showing the civies she's got on under it. No uniform, giving the implication that this late-night interview is out of the blue. And a personal favor. "You made quite a few friends on that ladder."

"A few." The confidence in Walter is wavering. The expectation of this being a lateral kind of test isn't front and center in the man's expression. He's trying to find a rock in quicksand.

"Tell me about them."

Bucky tunes out, looking back down at the tablet in his hands. She'll be hunting for ammunition for a while. People the kid respects, positions he was passed up for, grudges—professional or otherwise—to pick at, et cetra. Most of it she'll already know on her end. All of it she'll use against him.

After a minute of droning from the errand boy, he catches sight of Steve's arms unfolding from his chest, his hands tucking into his pants pockets. "So. A late appointment, huh? Was that Ava's request?"

"Nice try, asshole," Bucky grumbles. "I've been gone a week. I told JARVIS to let her know she could call me in whenever. He let me know she was still in the building." Shrugging, he skips to the next mission in Winston's history. "I went so she knows I'm taking this seriously. She offered. I accepted."

"And then she gave you a bee."

"And then she gave me a bee."

"A very cute bee."

"Shut. Up."

"Okay." He sees Steve rock back and forth from the corner of his eye. It makes him skim the mission details faster. He's gotta find the lead before— "Is it because she's divorced?"

"What?" He looks over at Steve in genuine shock. "Why the hell would that matter?"

"Maybe because of who she used to be married to."

"You think I'm intimidated?" Bucky scoffs, insulted. He could rise to that level of expectation—if he wanted to. And there's not a shot in hell that this Alec prick is any kind of a threat.

"By the idea of going out with a civilian woman who just left a career soldier?" The way Steve phrases it makes him freeze in place. "Yeah, Buck, I think that'd be a little intimidating."

Bucky, somewhat slowly, looks back at his tablet. That—it hadn't occurred to him. That particular angle. About Ava and—other expectations she might have when it comes to him.

You'll have to try a lot harder than that for me to fall for a loophole.

Bucky has a lot of self-awareness; he knows how hard he is to deal with. He tried backing off whenever it felt as if he was going too far in her office. She had picked up the other end of the bait every time, and everything seemed good. The Totalitarian jokes she throws at him are only jokes; she wouldn't give him the time of day if they weren't.

But it's not hard to figure out that they're rooted somewhere deep. Somewhere real. She's big on boundaries. She's gravely serious about consent. Those aren't the kind of qualities people hold that high without motivation. Personal motivation.

Giving her full access was the right call. Bucky's wholeheartedly convinced of it on multiple fronts.

"It's not like that," he assures, keeping his voice serious. "There's no plan here. No intentions, either. She puts up with me. I'm trying not to make that a miserable experience for her."

"Sure."

"Fuck off."

"Don't you mean buzz off?" There's no hesitation in Bucky's movements as he swings the tablet off to the side to nail his best friend in the arm with. "Oww!"

"You had it coming. Stop laughing before the grunt hears you, stupid."

The chuckles coming from Steve taper off until it's just snickering. "I think it's sweet."

"So you've said." Bucky tries to work up the nerve for his next question. It takes a few minutes of watching Natasha play with her food. "How pissed was he?"

The silence that followed Steve's snickering gets broken by his snort. "Well, his head didn't actually explode, but, you know, pretty damn pissed."

"Sorry."

"You don't have to be."

"It took a lot for you to—"

"Yes. It did. It took more than even you know, and Nat's made sure you'll never find out exactly how much." Steve looks over and doesn't say anything. Not until Bucky has the nads to meet his gaze. "And the whole point of it was to put it in your hands. That comes with the expectation that you'll use it as you see fit. It's not your problem that Fury likes to selectively forget he agreed to that."

"That doesn't mean it should have to be yours. I'm the one that handed it off to a civilian without asking for—"

"You shouldn't have to ask. That was the whole point." Bucky looks away, but Steve doesn't relent. "We wouldn't have put in the effort if we weren't willing to back it up over time."

"I can sit in for a meeting this time."

"I'm not going to tell you no." Of course he won't. Steve never does. Not when it's something like this. "But I am going to remind you that the two of you have conflicting buttons. More importantly, you don't need to."

"I know. I want to. It's not about—This isn't a challenge for me." He pauses, trying to decide on a way to phrase it. "I'm not looking to win a fight. I want to explain."

"Alright. Spending a week in the doghouse without complaint probably won you some leniency." There's pride sitting in Steve's voice.

It almost makes Bucky avoid bringing up the other thing eating him alive. He could handle it himself behind the scenes. He could even tell Ava to keep it to herself when he eventually fills her in.

But honesty is a two-way street.

"I got a question I gotta ask you," he starts off gently. It's the worst way—Steve's going to pick up on something being wrong and get worried. But Bucky can't think of an alternative.

"Shoot." Yeah. Yeah, there's the nerves surfacing in his voice.

"When you taught her the code—" His best friend's posture stiffens in his peripherals. It makes him switch to treating this like a bandage to rip off. "What language did you teach it to her in?"

Steve's head turns at a speed that looks dizzying, even for their equilibrium. "That only matters if she says it in the right—you're kidding. What the hell—what were you two even talking about that—"

"It wasn't like that," Bucky stresses, hearing the suspicion creeping in. "We were talking about music. She was telling me she doesn't find it sad."

"Jesus," Steve whispers. He follows it up with about a dozen other curses under his breath. "I'm sorry, Buck, I—"

"I know. I'm not looking to blame you. It's happened with other people before; you know that. And it's not like I suspect her of anything. I just—"

"Yeah, no, checking makes complete sense. No one would fault you for that. Did you talk to her about it yet?"

"I'm not planning on talking to her about any of it at the moment."

"Bucky. You can't just—she has to know, she's made that clear—I should have told her from the start—"

"I'm not saying I'm keeping her in the dark forever. I'm saying I'm not telling her right now."

Steve goes quiet again, and Bucky can practically hear the cogs turning in his brain. "I can talk to her about it."

"No."

"It's not like she'd have an issue with pretending it didn't happen—"

"I don't want to pretend it didn't happen." The words come out a lot more forceful than he intended.

"Okay." Steve's not being condescending. There's no dismissal in his tone. He reached a boundary Bucky's made and didn't take offense to it.

A year ago, Bucky wouldn't have been able to handle so much as bringing something like this up. He would have internalized every last part of it. Three years ago, Steve would have questioned him on a hard line like this being drawn. And then gone and done everything without asking, leaving Bucky to feel like an infant.

Not even a few weeks ago, Bucky would have bitten the head off of a level four analyst just because he can't get any decent sleep.

"I felt human again for a minute," he admits quietly. He curls his head in like a fucking coward, using his hair as a heavy curtain to block the view of his best friend. "She said it, and I got to come back down from it, and she didn't know. I'll tell her. I just want to wait until she's had long enough to forget she said it."

He doesn't want to give up how good it felt to flirt with Ava. To feel that warmth and hear that soothing melody. To sit in it all for a minute and let himself live. To be a bastard chasing after a girl way out of his league the way he used to, even if he knows it won't ever go anywhere. To forget, for just a handful of minutes, that he was ever made into a monster.

A couple more weeks of bothering her in the mornings. That'll be enough time for her to forget what words she used tonight. Then he'll have Steve give her the code in every language she speaks.

"That sounds like a good plan." The words don't sound like bullshit with the way Steve's voice stays rock fucking solid in its support. "You wanna... maybe talk about what led to it—"

Bucky straightens his head back up with a long inhale, moving his hair out of the way once again. "I don't know, Steve. Do you want me to try to go to bed for the next three hours, or do you want me to keep reading mission logs?"

"...I hope you get some good rest."

"That's what I thought."

"I'll see you in the morning. We've got that weapons brief—"

"I know."

"—so don't forget—yeah, okay, yup. You already know."

Locking his tablet and heading for the door, Bucky rolls his eyes. "When she comes in for a refill, remind her to run the mom test."

"Will do. Goodnight, Buck."

"Goodnight."

He's almost tempted to check in with JARVIS about Ava. Then he remembers that he doesn't have to do that.

Stepping onto the only elevator leading to the Avengers floor, he pulls his phone from his back pocket and opens their texts. He smiles down at the last picture of Ava's dumbass cat that she graced him with before he got sent out on punishment. There's a miniature, painted straw hat sitting on his bald little head.

Did the moose make it across the road okay? he types out. It takes three tries to force himself to hit send.

Bucky slides his phone back into his pocket. This is the latest he's ever sent her a message. God willing, she's got her ringer off. There's no way she's not in bed by now; it's nearly 0200. If he finds out this woke her up, he'll feel awful. He didn't exactly say he was going to be checking up on her.

Now he's worried he shouldn't have. Back in the day, it would have been second nature to make a quick call once he got back to his own place. He can't tell if that's the polite thing to do in this case or if it's too—

Bucky's phone vibrates against his left ass cheek not even thirty seconds after he put it there. He's got it back in his hand, held up to his face, in less than two.

see! you love my puns. and i am not currently roadkill! bonus points, reads her reply text.

He grins down at his phone like a fucking idiot. When Natasha eventually finds the security footage, and she will, he's not even going to be mad about being bullied for it.

Before he can type a reply, she hits him with another. dont g-men have bedtimes?

Yes, ma'am. The government just doesn't have the budget to implement them, he sends back.

This texting thing is a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, he gets to talk to her without having to work up the nerve to call her. On the other, he can't see how much that made her smile.

Not having the face-to-face usually doesn't bother Bucky. Then again, he usually doesn't text outside of work, so that's probably got something to do with it.

She sends back a laughing emoji rapid fire, then those three little dots dance for a minute while she goes back to typing. are you even allowed to make those kinds of jokes? doesnt SHIELD pay your phone bill?

Probably. I haven't bothered asking.

about the permission or the bill?

Both.

He gets another laughing emoji. go to bed, idiot. you looked like you were ready to fall over in my office. believe it or not, your brain needs this funny thing called SLEEP.

Sleep well, doll. Bucky's finger hovers over the send button, but he doesn't hit it.

He used the word in her office. It slipped out on accident the first time. The second time had been a check-in that she didn't seem to scorn. That might have been because she was choked up. Having to read it now makes the word feel heavier. Too heavy.

He hits the backspace to change it out for doc instead at the last minute. The send button is a lot easier to hit after that. He's banking on the fact that the choice didn't take long to make. Maybe, just maybe, she didn't notice.

you too, she signs off with.

Bucky doesn't move as the elevator doors open in front of him. He keeps his eyes locked on his phone. Focused right on the little heart emoji she put after the last word.

A slow, shy smile starts to creep up on him. He steps off the elevator, walking distractedly to his room to try to catch a REM cycle or two. It's still there on his face as he strips out of his gear, thinking about the doctor. It doesn't fade, even as he tosses his comforter, blanket, and lone pillow onto the floor.

He manages to be a gentleman that night. Mainly because he falls asleep listening to her playlist titled chill sketching before his hand can find any trouble.

—

u wanna know why the howlies couldnt tell their ass from a campfire most nights? its bc their asses fell INTO the campfire most nights. god i fucking love those idiots. i REALLY wanna do some howlies fics at some point (and i kinda want it to be a biker!au if im honest. i could undo the trauma SoA put me through by making comfort fics abt big biker man and his lil doc 🥺)

anyways there IS a reason i go so hard on discount cap, its not just bc he smells and i hate him. i have a hc for bucky’s opinion on dudes like him thatll get brought up at some point, youll see. it got pretty heavily hinted at in this chapter

also, other quick hc, if natasha romanoff were to be given the big boy serum and a lil sippy sip from the fountain of youth, the galaxy would be safe literally forever. we wouldnt need any more super heroes, everyone could retire. no one can convince me otherwise 😤

im (kind of) up and running on tumblr!! same handle, i reserved it when i got this act. ignore how bare bones the chapter posts are, ill make fancy formatting and graphics later. the initial wave was a panic back up when i realized im not saving these anywhere after posting and ao3 shut down for a few days lmao

i WILL put in a real effort to go track down blogs to follow and add other stuff at some point, pinky promise!! if you wanna find me for mutual fandom screaming, thats where ill be babes 💖🥰 im 98% sure i remembered to set up all the anon stuff properly for anyone thats Shy ❤️ you are more than welcome to submit requests 💞 ill make a pinned post abt it at some point

#chapter update

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saiilorstars · 4 years

Text

Falling in Temptation

Previous chapters || Sequel to Stars Dance

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 11th Doctor/ Female OC

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Ch. 4: A Wife, a Baby and a Secret

Chapter summary: The Doctor finally gets to meet his TARDIS in person...at the same time his biggest secret comes to light in front of Avalon. And why does the TARDIS keep calling them her 'thief and baby'?

Fairy Tale Memoirs (Companion story)

Rory was listening to the Doctor tell some type of weird tale while they waited for Avalon and Amy to come into the room for the newest of their trips. Rory tried keeping up with the Doctor but the man was all over the place with this story. It had to be fake.

"...then we discovered it wasn't the robot king after all, it was the real one. Fortunately, I was able to re-attach the head."

Rory rolled his eyes and thankfully saw Amy coming by from the stairs. "Do you believe any of this stuff?"

"I was there," Amy muttered as she walked by, "And you can only imagine how terrified Lena was and how awed Avalon was."

"Oh, it's the warning lights," the Doctor turned to the controls and slapped it, forgetting about his tale, "I'm getting rid of those, they never stop!"

"Maybe instead of getting rid of them you should try seeing what they're alerting you of," Avalon strolled into the room from the downstairs hallway. "Might be important, just a note."

"Woah, what are you all dressed for?" Amy took notice of Avalon's clothing, "Seem preppier than usual," she smirked.

"Shut up," Avalon tugged on her pink skirt. She was dressed in a white, long-sleeved, horizontally striped blouse, tucked under a pink skirt and accompanied it with knee-length brown boots. Her hair had a thin headband with a thin ribbon bow on its side keeping her ginger locks out of her face.

"Ava, any specific reason for your clothing of today?" the Doctor asked with a genuine curiosity, blinking rapidly with a slight tint of pink on his cheeks. He shook his head fast and looked at the console, pushing away all those nonsense thoughts away.

"Hold on, hold on," Rory stood up from his chair and moved to Avalon, giving her a sharp look. It seemed like he was beginning to remember something. "Lena?"

"Yes," Avalon nodded.

"Yearly visit from the hospital?"

"Yes."

"Doctor Ian?"

"Aha."

"And let me guess, promised some type of visit to...?" Avalon fiddled with her fingers as she deferred the answer, making Rory frown, "Ava," he rose his voice.

"He said he was gonna show me the city!" Avalon exclaimed, though since her eyes kept darting to the side it told Rory there was more to it than she was giving.

"AVA--"

"It's a party!" Avalon exploded from all the questions and looks being thrown at her. She never liked how much power Rory had over her when it came to telling the truth. "And I'm not gonna miss it for the end of the world!" Avalon hurried over to the Doctor, "So I'm gonna need you to do all that coordinates and stuff, please."

"I am not taking you to a party," the Doctor flatly said. He knew exactly what that led to, thanks to Amy and Rory. "I've heard of your track record for parties, and I don't think so!" he tapped her nose, later wondering if he should have really done that.

"Rory exaggerated," Avalon shot her best friend a glare.

Rory crossed his arms and looked at the Doctor, seeming very much certain of what he had said. "Take it from the person who's bailed her out every time she was thrown in jail and picked her up after she was too drunk...I have not exaggerated."

Avalon groaned, "Just take me home for the day! Ian promised and I intend to make sure it's followed through!"

"What is so important about this?" the Doctor had to question.

"I think you missed the whole party thing," Amy shook her head, "Woman loves a good party."

"I like to have fun, sue me," Avalon huffed.

"What, and I haven't provided enough fun for you?" the Doctor found himself asking, or rather demanding to know, and believed that to be a tad unnecessary. But still…he was fun, right? She always had fun when they were together…right?

Avalon took it as amusement and laughed, "Of course you have, but this is different. Look, Ian comes around once a year to check if everything is alright with Lena. The last time I saw him, I still wasn't 21 so I couldn't go anywhere. And then I came here with you so I've missed the opportunity. But I just called and Ian still offered to take me as he promised. It's important!"

At that moment, the group heard a knock on the TARDIS door, making everything go quiet while the Doctor whirled around for the doors.

"Hold on," Avalon shook her head, "Was that a knock?"

"I believe so..." the Doctor slowly walked for the doors.

"Right, but we are in deep space," Rory pointed out.

"Very, very deep," the Doctor nodded, hearing the second round of knocks.

"And you sure you want to open it when we're in deep space?" Avalon called, "Perhaps you should check the monitor to see what's waiting outside?"

"I thought you were all about the fun, Ava," he stopped at the doors and looked back at her with a smirk, "Why are you trying to ruin it?'

"Well because she's not stupid," Amy answered.

"Thank you," Avalon nodded, "Now get back here and check the-"

The Doctor opened the doors and ended that conversation. Waiting outside was a small box floating and glowing white, "Oh, come here. Come here, you scrumptious little beauty!" he reached for the box only for it to go whiz inside the TARDIS. It went around the room and made a turn back to him, hitting him in the chest and landing right into his hands.

"A box?!" Rory cried, getting over the small heart attack from the surprise box flying about.

"Doctor, what is it?" Amy wanted a closer look at the box but was still frightened it might try something again.

"I've got mail!" the Doctor exclaimed and walked back to the console.

"And you're excited because...?" Avalon wondered. If it was just random mail - junk mail - what was so cool about it?

"Time Lord emergency messaging system," the Doctor corrected her thoughts, "In an emergency, we'd wrap up thoughts in psychic containers and send them through time and space. Anyway, there's a Time Lord out there, and it's one of the good ones!"

"But you said there were no other Time Lords left," Avalon reminded cautiously, really hoping he hadn't forgotten that important detail.

"There are no Time Lords left in the universe, but the universe isn't where we're going!" he chucked the box over to Amy for them to see. Amy still stared at the box with some degree of horror as if it would come back to life. "See that snake on it? The mark of the Corsair. Fantastic bloke. He had that snake as a tattoo in every regeneration," the Doctor started going around the console to start the box up, "Didn't feel like himself without the tattoo. Or herself, a couple of times. Ooh, she was a bad girl!" the TARDIS shook suddenly and nearly knocked them all to the floor.

"What's happening?!" Avalon cried as she held onto the console.

"You don't mind if I attend to this first instead of your little party trip, do you?"

"I guess not!"

"Good, because we're already leaving the universe!"

"How can you leave the universe?" Rory incredulously stared at the Doctor while also holding on.

"With enormous difficulty! Right now I'm burning up TARDIS rooms to give us some welly," the Doctor flipped a couple switches, "Goodbye, swimming pool, goodbye scullery, sayonara, squash court seven!"

After several more jolts, the TARDIS finally stopped and allowed the group to gather their bearings.

"OK. OK," Rory looked at Amy and Avalon to make sure they were fine, "Where are we?"

"Outside the universe, where we've never, ever been," the Doctor smirked with pride...until the entire power wound down to a brim dim light.

"I don't suppose that's meant to happen...?" Avalon stared at the rotor that was nearly dark now.

"The power. It's draining," the Doctor breathed, stunned as he tried some of the controls, "Everything's draining! But it can't. That's... That's impossible."

"What is that?" Amy asked.

"It's as if the matrix, the soul of the TARDIS, has just vanished. Where would it go?"

"Well why don't we go and find out," Avalon rushed for the doors with the intention of opening them to see what laid on the other side.

"No, Ava! Don't!" Rory called after her, the ginger thankfully stopping as she reached for the doors.

"Really, Rory? The Doctor's just brought us to a place that's outside the universe, did you really expect me not to go run and find out what's out there?"

"I just don't want to get a call from outside the universe saying my best friend's been jailed," Rory sharply looked at her.

"Is it bad if I can see that already?" Amy barely managed to contain a laugh.

"Shut up," Avalon pointed at her, frowning, "Doctor?"

"Yeah, alright, c'mon," the Doctor hurried over, ignoring the calls of Rory who continued to be worried for his best friend.

Together, Avalon and the Doctor stepped out into a massively cluttered environment. It looked more like a dump than anything else. There were parts of all sizes from spaceships around as well as every day objects.

"So what kind of trouble's your friend in?" Avalon questioned distractedly as she moved around to the different piles of messes.

"He was in a bind, a bit of a pickle, sort of distressed," the Doctor tried to answer.

"Aw, you can't just say you don't know," Amy mocked a pout on her face as she and Rory stepped out.

"But what is this?" Rory made a face at the sight, not very impressed. "The scrap yard at the end of the universe?"

"Not end of, outside of," the Doctor reminded.

"How we can we be outside the universe? The universe is everything."

The Doctor put an arm around Rory's shoulders whole he explained, "Imagine a great big soap bubble with one of those tiny little bubbles on the outside."

"OK."

Avalon rolled her eyes and turned around, hands on her hips, "And let me guess, it's nothing like that, is it?"

The Doctor pointed at her with a nod, "Exactly," he turned to the TARDIS and pit a hand on it, frowning at the sight, "Completely drained, look at her."

"I thought you said the TARDIS can refuel on rift energy," Avalon looked around, "And hello, energy right here," she gestured.

"Yeah, she'll probably refuel just by being here," the Doctor agreed and moved away from the TARDIS, "Now this place, what do we think, eh?" he picked up dirt and chucked it into the air, "Gravity's almost earth-normal, air's breathable, but it smells like..."

"Armpits," Amy finished with a sour face.

"That's the word I've been looking for!" Avalon laughed, Amy doing the same seconds later.

"Where did this stuff come from?" Rory wondered, seeing there were all kinds of clutter with no apparent pattern.

"There's a rift," the Doctor reminded, "Now and then, stuff gets sucked through it. Not a bubble, a plughole. The universe has a plughole and we've fallen down it."

"Thief! Thief! You're my thief!" A young woman, Idris, dressed in a tattered Victorian dress, ran straight for the Doctor.

"She's dangerous!" called another voice, that of an other woman, Auntie, "Guard yourselves!"

Rory quickly grabbed Amy and Avalon and pulled them behind as Idris reached the Doctor, "Look at you!" she gaped at his face, "Goodbye! No, not goodbye, what's the other one?" she grabbed the sides of his face and kissed him.

"Watch out! Careful, keep back from her!" another man, Uncle, helped Auntie get Idris away from the Doctor, "Welcome, strangers, lovely. Sorry about the mad person."

"Why am I a thief?" the Doctor frowned at the accusation, "What have I stolen?"

"Me. You're going to steal me," she got to thinking then shook her head, "No, you have stolen me. You are stealing me. Tenses are difficult, aren't they?"

"Oh, we are sorry, my dove. She's off her head," Auntie shook the Doctor's hand, "They call me Auntie."

"I'm Uncle," the other man gave a small wave, "I'm everybody's uncle. Just keep back from this one, she bites!"

"Do I? Excellent," Idris cheered then promptly bit into the Doctor's neck.

"Ow! No, ow, ow!" the Doctor cried as they pulled off Idris.

"Oh, biting's excellent!" Idris clapped excitedly, "It's like kissing, only there's a winner!"

"Sorry. She's doolally," Uncle apologetically smiled.

"I think it's bit worse than that," Avalon mumbled but was heard by Idris.

"Oh! My baby!" Idris clapped and ran off to Avalon, encasing her in a big hug.

"Someone get the crazy woman off me!" Avalon waved her hands to the others, her eyes wide with alarm at the thought of the woman trying to bite her next.

"Idris, no, no," Auntie removed Idris off Avalon.

"And what was that about a baby?" Avalon raised an eyebrow at Idris.

"Oh, you know? The little small creature you have to, you know...?" Idris mimicked rocking a baby in her arms but all anyone did was stare at her.

"Right..." For safety reasons, Avalon decided to take several steps away from her. "Is that TARDIS field up already?" And she flinched when Idris let out a loud laughter, as if teasing her, "Did I say something funny?"

And just like that, Idris stopped laughing and turned to the Doctor, "Now you're angry...or, no you're not," she got to thinking again, "You will be angry," she pointed with a proud smile at her clarification, "The little boxes will make you angry."

"Sorry?" the Doctor stepped closer to her, alarmed at the coincidental use of 'boxes', "The little what? Boxes?"

"Your chin is hilarious!" She chuckled as she pinched his chin, once again stopping all of a sudden as she looked to Rory, "It means the smell of dust after rain."

"What does?" He raised an eyebrow, misunderstanding.

"Petrichor."

"But I didn't ask..."

"Not yet. But you will."

"No, Idris, I think you should have a rest," Auntie tried to reach for the woman again but Idris stepped off and looked around.

"Yes, yes, good idea!" Idris nodded, " I'll just see if there's an off switch," she dropped down to where Rory caught her, unconscious.

"Is that it?" Uncle questioned as Rory checked for vitals, "She dead now, so sad."

"Yeah, you really look like it," Amy noticed with distaste.

"She's still breathing," Rory concluded after a moment.

"Nephew, take Idris somewhere she can not bite people," Uncle ordered a near-coming Ood.

The Doctor turned to see the Ood coming around and smiled, "Oh, hello!"

Amy jumped at the sight and backed away, "Doctor, what is that?"

"It's all right. It's an Ood!" the Doctor walked over to the other alien, "Oods are good, love an Ood. Hello, Ood. Can't you talk?" he noticed the dim translator sphere, "Oh, I see, it's damaged. May I?" he opened the top half and started rewiring, "It might be on the wrong frequency."

"Nephew was broken when he came here. Why, he was half dead," Auntie shrugged, "House repaired him. House repaired all of us."

"I'm not sure that's the right word," Avalon mumbled and received an elbow on part of Rory who set down Idris, "Ow," she looked down at the scolding look he gave her, "Sorry," she mumbled with a frown.

As soon as the Doctor had finished with the translator sphere, a series of garbled messages were overheard by the group, "If you are receiving this message, please help me. Send a signal to the High Council of the Time Lords on Gallifrey. Help! I'm still alive! I don't know where I am. I'm on some rock-like planet," the Ood switched off the translator and left an air of awkwardness and tension around.

"What was that? Was that him?" Amy wondered as the Doctor turned to face them, rather confused himself.

"No, no, it's picking up something else. But that's... That's not possible," he mumbled to himself then looked at Auntie and Uncle, "That's... Who else is here? Tell me. Show me! Show me!"

"Just what you see. It's just the four of us, and the House," Auntie nodded, "Nephew, will you take Idris somewhere safe where she can't hurt nobody?" the Ood did as told and took Idris away from them.

"The House?" the Doctor raised an eyebrow, "What's the House?"

"House is all around you, my sweets. You are standing on him," Auntie to the ground while Uncle jumped up and down for visuals, "This is the House. This world. Would you like to meet him?"

"Meet him!?" Rory quickly shook his head at the idea.

"I'd love to," the Doctor nodded at the two inhabitants.

"This way. Come, please. Come," Uncle led them away but the group remained back for a couple of moments.

"Something's wrong," Avalon crossed her arms, "He's making that face again," she said as the Doctor turned to them.

"What face?" he frowned.

"That one," she pointed.

"What were those voices?" Amy agreed with Avalon and asked the question they all had.

"Time Lords. It's not just the Corsair," he started backing away into the direction Auntie and Uncle had gone off to, "Somewhere close by there are lots and lots of... Time Lords!"

~ 0 ~

The group entered a cavern where the Doctor immediately ran to a grate and looked down into it. Meanwhile, Auntie and Uncle moved towards the grate, "Come. Come, come," Uncle motioned to the humans, "You can see the House and he can look at you and he..."

"I see," the Doctor still observed the grate, "This asteroid is sentient."

"We walk on his back, breathe his air," Auntie said, "Eat his food..."

"Smell its armpits," Amy mumbled, Avalon snickering quietly as they walked around.

"And do my will," the two stopped at the different voice that now overtook Auntie and Uncle, "You are most welcome, travelers."

"Let me guess," Avalon put her hands on her hips, "That would be 'House' we're now talking to? It's a bit creepy, you know, taking over a body...bodies."

"Yes," the Doctor looked up at the controlled pair, "So you're like a... sea urchin. Hard outer surface. That's the planet we're walking on. Big, squashy, oogly thing inside. That's you."

"That is correct, Time Lord," House answered.

"Ah! So you've met Time Lords before?"

"Many travelers have come through the rift, like Auntie and Uncle and Nephew. I repair them when they break."

"Someone should get him the definition of 'repair'," Avalon whispered to Amy and Rory, Rory giving a scolding look at her while Amy snickered quietly.

"So there are Time Lords here then?" the Doctor looked around the place in suspicion.

"Not any more," House replied, "But there have been many Tardises on my back in days gone by."

"Well, there won't be any more after us," the Doctor hopped off the grate, "Last Time Lord. Last TARDIS."

"A pity. Your people were so kind. Be here in safety, Doctor. Rest, feed, if you will," with that, House released the control over Auntie and Uncle.

"We're not actually going to stay here, are we?" Avalon asked him, already making faces, "No offence but this planet is a bit creepy..."

"It seems like a friendly planet," the Doctor tried to excuse his intentions and looked back Auntie and Uncle, "Literally. Mind if we poke around a bit?"

"You can look all you want. Go, look. House loves you," Auntie had cupped Amy's face with her hands, the Doctor noticing that one of the hands weren't exactly matching.

"Come on then, gang. We're just going to, erm... see the sights," the Doctor moved around the group and headed for the exit.

The others quickly followed into the tunnels where they could almost hear Idris shouting once again. The Doctor stopped in the middle of the tunnel and nearly made the others bump into him, "Sh, shh," he raised a finger as he listened.

"So what now, then?" Avalon moved around as she explored the tunnel, "I don't suppose we were actually going to 'see the sights'."

"You would suppose right," the Doctor nodded and began walking again.

"But as soon as the TARDIS is refueled, we go, yeah?" Rory tried to get them back on track, wanting to avoid trouble (if that was even possible).

"No. There are Time Lords here," the Doctor turned to them, "I heard them and they need me."

"You told me about your people," Amy reminded, never noticing him stiffen and tense, "And you told me what you did."

"What did he do?" came Avalon's innocent question of the hour. She then noticed the odd looks she was getting from Amy and Rory, and especially the guilty expression on the Doctor's face, "Hello, question asked and answer needed," she frowned at all the silence.

"Ava, I need a favor," the Doctor pointed at her, doing his best not to seem so...well, guilty.

"Like what?" she frowned again at the blatant ignorance she was getting for her question.

"I, um, need my screwdriver. I left it in the TARDIS, can you get it for me?"

"Are you gonna answer my question, then?"

"After you bring the screwdriver..."

"I'm holding you to that," Avalon warned and headed off.

"Are you kidding me?" was the first thing Amy had to say as soon as Avalon was out of hearing-distance, "You never told her what you did?" she raised an eyebrow at the Doctor who'd gone silent again.

"I did tell her..." he said meekly, shifting under the irritated glare of the ginger, "...just, not all."

Rory was as stunned as Amy. "I don't get it, you told Lena. How did you get around that with Ava? Why would you go around that?"

"I have my reasons, alright," the Doctor turned away from them, "Please don't tell her anything, that's all I ask."

"I'm sorry, have you met Avalon Reynolds? She's not gonna let it go," Amy shook her head, "What exactly did you tell her, just curious to know."

The Doctor sighed, "Same thing, same story, there was a war, it all ended..."

"How did it end?"

"...casualties, utter casualties from the war."

"Wait, so she thinks you just happened to survive? That's not like Ava, she's smarter than that. And you are kinder than that," Rory's voice of disapproval was affected the Doctor more than what he would've liked. It just added onto his guilt.

"Why would you do that?" Amy repeated the dire question, her anger fading once she saw the quiet, guilty behavior the Doctor wore, "You told all of us but not her?"

"She's different, leave it at that!"

Amy glanced at Rory with a knowing look, assuming there was a 'special' interest in their ginger friend the Doctor wasn't willing to yet admit. "Alright, just...tell us what to do because she's really not gonna stop asking," Amy sighed.

The Doctor looked back at them, genuine plead in his eyes, "Please just tell her something else, please."

"We will, but...sooner or later, you're going to have to tell her what really happened," Rory sadly said to the man.

"I pick later," the Doctor mumbled.

"Well in the meantime you think about how you're going to word your answer, and the proper one," Amy clarified, "I'll buy you time by keeping her in the TARDIS. I assume the screwdriver was a ploy?"

"You would assume very right."

Amy rolled her eyes, "She's so gonna kill you later," she chucked her phone at him, "Stay out of trouble, Rory look after him," and she went off for the TARDIS.

"You should probably go because then Ava will try to kill her for attempting to distract her. Give me a call when you get there," the Doctor warned Rory who quickly nodded in agreement and hurried off. After being left alone, the Doctor took a breath and continued on his way, hoping to every deity he knew he could somehow defer the truth from Avalon. He just wasn't ready for her to know what he did and...

He shook his head, not even wanting to think about it.

~ 0 ~

As Avalon reached the TARDIS she realized she could be missing the truth being said back with her friends and so when she heard the calls of Amy and Rory nearing, she dashed to hide behind the TARDIS. She knew those two like the back of her hands, it would only be a matter of seconds until they started talking. She moved to the side and then carefully back to the doors and pressed an ear to listen in. But the sound of a lock went through her ear instead.

"Amy...Rory?" she called to them.

"Ava!?" Rory shouted, "What are you doing out there?"

"Being sneaky, what else?"

"Why'd you lock the door?" Amy added, sounding irritated.

"I didn't..." Avalon blinked with an idea, "...I did," she changed her declaration, "And I won't unlock it until one of you tells me what the Doctor did."

She heard Any scoff, and loudly, "He has the screwdriver, stupid! You didn't lock it."

"I'm gonna kill him," Avalon muttered, "Just tell me what he did!" she shouted to the others.

"It was...nothing," Rory came up with.

It was Avalon's turn to scoff, "Rory Williams the day you can lie will be the day of the apocalypse. Tell me what he did!"

"That's it, I'm calling the Doctor again," she heard Amy tell Rory.

Avalon growled with exasperation, a deep scowl forming on her face, "Ah, forget you two!" she turned and ran back the way she'd come from, determinant to know the oh-so-big-secret that fairy-tale man was hiding from her. Everyone else knew, why didn't she?

~ 0 ~

The Doctor had come across a small alcove in which he sensed there were more Time Lords, apparently, "Well, they can't all be in here," he frowned as he continued to hear more murmurs of voices from a cabinet. That certainly couldn't be right. He opened the cabinet and found it was full of more message boxes from which the voices were coming from. From behind, Auntie and Uncle slowly came in, "Just admiring your Time Lord distress signal collection," the Doctor bitterly remarked, "Nice job. Brilliant job. Really thought I had some friends here... but this is what the Ood translator picked up. Cries for help from the long dead," he tuned around, "How many Time Lords have you lured here, the way you lured me? And what happened to them all?"

"House, House is kind and he is wise," Auntie stuttered to say.

"House repairs you when you break. Yes, I know!" the Doctor snapped loudly, making the two flinch, "But how does he mend you?" he took out the sonic and used it on Uncle, "You have the eyes of a 20 year old."

"Thank you," Uncle smiled.

"I mean it literally. Your eyes are 30 years younger than you are," the Doctor pointed, going into a fit of angry rambles, "Your ears don't match, your right arm is two inches longer than your left, and how's your dancing, 'cause you've got two left feet. Patchwork people. You've been repaired and patched up so often, I doubt there's anything left of what used to be you," he put the sonic away and slapped Auntie's hand, "I had an umbrella like you once."

"Oh, now, it's been a great arm for me, this," Auntie held up her arm with a smile.

The Doctor stumbled back at the sight of the snake tattoo on her arm, "Corsair."

"He was a strapping big bloke, wasn't he, Uncle? Big fella," Auntie recalled with a chuckle, "I got the arm and then Uncle got the spine and the kidneys."

"Kidneys," the Doctor shook his head, "You gave me hope, and then you took it away. That's enough to make anyone dangerous. God knows what it will do to me! Basically... run!"

"Poor old Time Lord. Too late. House is too clever," Uncle mumbled and ran off after Auntie.

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair in frustration and anger and turned to leave when he saw Avalon standing at the threshold. Oh, he knew what kind of additional trouble there'd be now. "Ava..." he took a cautious step towards her. Avalon ignored it and came straight up to him and hugged him, "Oh-okay..." confused, he hugged back.

"I'm so sorry for their cruel trick," she whispered sincerely. The Doctor fell into the hug and stayed silent for the moment, "I still want to know what you really did, apparently," she felt him stiffen and sighed as she looked up at him, "What's going on, Fairy Tale Man?"

The Doctor looked at her and tried to will himself to tell her but simply couldn't.

Seeing she'd get nothing right now, Avalon stepped back with a frown, "By the way, Amy and Rory are pretty crossed for locking them in," she crossed her arms.

"I got their call," the Doctor nodded, speaking quietly.

"You were planning to lock me up with them too," she huffed, "To avoid my questions, right?" She rolled her eyes at his silence and turned for the doorway, "Sometimes you frustrate me so much!" She threw her hands in the air.

"A-Ava!" the Doctor rushed after her.

Avalon ignored his calls and strode down the tunnels, knowing exactly where they needed to go. The distressed Time Lord continued to call for her, making Avalon feel rather special for a moment. Served him right.

~ 0 ~

"Alright you visionary, how'd you know about the boxes?" Avalon demanded from Idris as she and the Doctor came up to the cell Idris was in.

"Ah, it's my thief," Idris stood from her seat inside her cell and walked up to the door, "And my baby!"

Avalon raised an eyebrow at the woman's choice of words, "Okay, I can understand why you call him a 'thief' but-"

However, the Doctor scoffed loudly and intervened, "This coming from the woman who holds one of the biggest criminal records."

And then Avalon made a 'no talking' gesture with her hand, pressing her four index fingers over her thumb, "Sh! Avalon's talking," she flashed him a fake smile, "And Avalon is going to keep saying whatever she wants until her Fairy Tale Man decides to tell her the truth," she spat the last word with such attitude that even Idris winced for the Doctor.

"You know I bet the reason you don't know his big ole secret is because maybe you're special to him," Idris shrugged casually, smirking at the reactions of the Doctor.

"Yeah, or..." Avalon walked away from the Doctor with her hands on her hips, "...and I'm pretty sure this is the winning theory," she turned to face the man, now standing across him in the room, "The truth is he just doesn't trust me like he trusts everyone else."

"That is not true," the Doctor began to argue back, offended she'd think that despite all their time traveling together.

"Then prove it!" Avalon snapped, storming right up to him, "What did you do?" she demanded when they were face to face, nearly nose to nose in reality.

Idris sadly watched as the Doctor once again had that internal struggle to speak the words he had used with the others. Avalon just had no idea of the reason why she precisely was being kept away from the truth. It was actually rather sweet, (if you knew the reason, though). Idris could understand where Avalon was coming from based on her point of view.

"That's what I thought," Avalon sighed and stepped back from the Doctor.

"Ava, it's complicated," he began, but she shook her head and turned to face Idris.

"I tell you everything and this is what I get from you. I'm honestly disappointed, fairy-tale man," she moved up to the cell door of Idris's, unable to see the hurt etched onto the Doctor's face.

"What are you doing?" Idris questioned as Avalon took out a pin from her hair and stuck it into the lock.

"Avalon, we should wait..." the Doctor tried to stop her.

"No, you know she's the only one who can give you some answers. Therefore, we have to get her out."

"But we don't even know who she is!"

"Oi, how do you not know me?" Idris frowned, "Just because they put me in here?"

"They said you were dangerous," the Doctor soared her a glance as he tried backing Avalon away from the door.

"Not the cage, stupid. In here," Idris put her hands on her face, "They put me in here. I'm the..." she paused, "Oh, what do you call me? We travel. I go..."

At the sounds of the TARDIS wheezing, both Avalon and the Doctor froze and looked up at the woman inside the cell.

"The TARDIS?" the Doctor tilted his head.

Idris nodded joyfully, "Time and relative dimension in space. Yes, that's it. Names are funny. It's me! I'm the TARDIS."

"No way..." Avalon breathed and immediately looked up at the Doctor, "What are you going to do now?"

"No!" he exclaimed at her, still unable to believe such a thing. He stared at Idris and shook his head, "You're not! You're a bitey, mad lady. The TARDIS is up and downy stuff in a big blue box."

"What the hell does 'up and downy stuff' even mean?" Avalon made a face.

"Shut up!" she received his hand over her mouth, "You're not..." he looked at Idris up and down repeatedly, "...big, blue box?"

"Yes, that's me," Idris assured in amusement as she stared at the pair, "A type 40 TARDIS. I was already a museum piece, when you were young, and the first time you touched my console you said..."

"I said you were the most beautiful thing I had ever known," the Doctor remembered with a small smile, of course that all ended when Avalon bit into his palm with all her might, "OW!"

"When will you learn that, that will never end well for you?" she crossed her arms arms and frowned, "I've bitten the policemen arresting me, you are far easier."

"You are-"

"-you better watch those words Fairy Tale Man," Avalon warned as she stepped closer to him, her eyes narrowing, "Because the territory you step on with me is very thin as it is," at that, the Doctor shut his mouth and turned away, missing the wide smirk on Avalon's face. With triumph, she turned to Idris and continued to work on the lock, "So, you're the TARDIS?" Idris nodded, "As in the box that idiot over there decided to steal?"

"I borrowed her!" the Doctor argued with a violent finger pointed at Avalon.

"Borrowing implies the eventual intention to return the thing that was taken," Idris cut in before Avalon opened her mouth, "What makes you think I would ever give you back?"

"Why would you want him, though?" Avalon pointed at the Doctor, ignoring the loud huff the man gave at that. Oh yeah, she would be taking jabs. "I mean, there had to be have been smarter Time Lords..."

"Oi!" the Doctor cried.

"Much more fun Time Lords too..." Avalon continued, her smirk widening.

"Oi!"

"And you know, one that didn't dress like an idiot," Avalon added, making Idris laugh.

Hey!" the Doctor frowned, nearly stomping his foot.

Avalon finally got the door opened and stepped away to let Idris out. She turned to the man, "Well, you've got no argument right now, I mean look at you?" she gestured to his current choice of attire.

"There is nothing wrong with my clothes," the Doctor declared.

"Ha! Newsflash, no one wears bow-ties anymore," Avalon then ruffled his hair, "And where do I even start with this hair?"

"Are you really going to start with hair?" the Doctor had had enough and was going to give a comeback of the century, "Because I've got some comments for you!" he grabbed a piece of her hair between his fingers, a bit surprised at how soft it felt. For a moment, he let her strand of hair curl around his finger, making him lose his train of thought, "…and…and…"

Avalon watched him with small confusion, though a part of her face felt warm, "…and?" she cleared her throat and got his attention back.

"…and…your clothing!" he quickly racked his mind for an excuse. He let her hair drop from his finger and stepped back, suddenly aware he'd crossed several boundaries.

Avalon instantly tugged on her skirt, even glancing at her current outfit to remember what she wore, "What about my clothes?"

Idris watched in pure amusement as the two battled it out, if it could even be called a battle. Once the Doctor came around Avalon's face and saw she was genuinely worried he would say her clothes were no good, he stopped in front of her with a soft smile, "They look beautiful on you," he remarked.

Avalon blinked in surprise, "Oh...really?"

"Of course," the Doctor nodded, happy to see her looking better in less than a second, "You'll look amazing for your party."

Avalon knew she was blushing and thanked it was pretty dark around to hide it, "I get to go, then?"

"Yeah," he smiled.

"Uh, no," Idris raised a finger and moved over to them, almost more like stalked towards them. "She does not get to go."

"Oh c'mon," Avalon threw her hands in the air, groaning in frustration. "Not you too! Now I have to deal with a talking TARDIS matrix!" she crossed her arms and mockingly glared at Idris, "Why are you here again? No offence but..."

"House eats TARDISes," Idris shrugged, "And you're still not going," she added, making Avalon frown and huff.

"House what? What do you mean?" the Doctor was stuck on those important words.

"I don't know. It's something I heard you say," Idris pointed at him.

"When?"

"In the future," Idris moved towards Avalon, wagging a finger at her, "And no means no."

"House eats Tardises?" the Doctor repeated, confused, and confirmed Idris's prediction.

"Why can't I go?" Avalon frowned.

"There you go," Idris gestured to both of them, "What are fish fingers?"

"When do I say that?" the Doctor wondered, knowing or course it would be him to say that.

"Any second," Idris warned.

"Why does everyone tell me 'no'?" Avalon demanded.

"Of course! House feeds on rift energy and TARDISes are bursting with it. And not raw. All lovely and cooked, processed food… Mmm, fish fingers."

"Oh c'mon, you can't possibly be thinking of food right now when some asteroid thing is going to eat your TARDIS!"

"But you can't eat a TARDIS, it would destroy you," the Doctor countered but froze when he realized, "Unless, unless..."

"Unless you deleted the TARDIS matrix first," Idris pointed at herself.

"Hence why you're in there," Avalon pointed at her, receiving a nod of confirmation.

"But House just can't delete a TARDIS' consciousness, that would blow a hole in the universe," Idris said before the Doctor could even open his mouth, "He pulls out the matrix, sticks it in a living receptacle and feeds off the remaining Artron energy," she then glanced back at the Doctor with a smirk, "You were about to say all that. I don't suppose you have to now."

"Wait..." Avalon hurried for the exit, "...Amy and Rory are still in there..."

The Doctor realized as well and hurried with her, "They'll be eaten," he took out Amy's phone and ran with Avalon towards the TARDIS, "Amy! Amy! Rory, get the hell out of there!"

"Doctor, something's wrong," Amy was sounded concerned.

"It's House. He's after the TARDIS. Just get out, both of you!"

"We can't. You locked the door, remember?"

"But I've unlocked it," the Doctor checked his screwdriver in case.

"You stupid well haven't! Doctor, I don't like this!"

"That makes two of us," Avalon muttered as they finally reached the TARDIS, "Why'd you lock it in the first place!?" she smacked the Doctor's arm, ignoring the yelp he gave immediately for it, "Oh, that's right, to keep me away from you so I wouldn't force you to tell me your secret!" and then she smacked him again, "How'd that plan turn out, genius?" before she was able to smack him again, he hurried up to the TARDIS and used the sonic on the doors, "Yes, because the sonic worked the first time around-"

"SHUT UP!" the Doctor surprised her with the shouted order, "Just shut up and stay quiet for a minute!"

Avalon blinked, "You don't-"

"-no, be quiet!" the Doctor wouldn't let her finish, "For once, don't shout, don't move, just stay still and silent! Have you got that?" Almost meekly, Avalon looked down. The Doctor didn't take notice as he'd turned for the TARDIS again, "Open!" he snapped his fingers in hopes of getting the doors open. Of course, that also failed, "Amy! Rory!" he went back to pounding on the doors, only to hear the sounds of the de-materializing starting up and so had to step back as the box disappeared right before his eyes. He picked up the cellphone again and put it on his ear, "Amy? Amy, can you hear me?" but he received no answer. He put the phone away and sighed, "OK. Right. I don't... I really don't know what to do," then he had to smile a little because of its rarity, "That's a new feeling," he turned to Avalon.

The face she had was one of pure death. She'd gotten over her initial reaction and now was furious. Without a word, she slapped him across the face and growled in fury as she stalked off back to the tunnels, quickly or else she'd end up slapping him over and over and over.

~ 0 ~

The Doctor followed after Avalon in silence, irritated himself with her. They'd went back for Idris but didn't find her at her cell anymore and so went on a search, finally finding the woman/TARDIS back in the cavern room with Auntie and Uncle.

"The box is gone," Avalon declared as soon as they found her.

"Eaten?" Idris glanced at her, eyeing the very clear distance put between her and the Doctor.

"No, it left. Not eaten, hi-jacked," the Doctor sighed, "But why?"

"It's time for us both to go, and keep together," Auntie stood up from her spot and started to walk off.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Avalon went after her, "You can't just leave!"

"Well, we're dying, my love. It's time for Auntie and Uncle to pop off."

"I'm against it," Uncle input with a resigned tone.

"It's your fault, isn't it sweets?" Auntie looked past Avalon to the Doctor.

Avalon scoffed, "Who could've guessed that one?" she crossed her arms and turned to the man.

"First of all, be quiet," the Doctor pointed at her, "You're angry and your temper is rising-"

"Good, you'll finally see what happens when it reaches all the way up here," Avalon raised her hand as high as possible, "Can't wait to find out myself. But you know what I'd really like right now? To know exactly how you messed this one up," she glanced back at Auntie with a sweet smile, "How exactly did he do that?"

"He told House it was the last TARDIS. House can't feed on them if there's none more coming, can he?"

"Hear that..." Avalon glared at the Doctor, "Now because of you, my best friend and his wife are stuck in a box controlled by 'House' while we're stuck on some stupid planet outside the universe!"

The sound of Auntie falling to the ground ended the argument. The Doctor hurried to the woman while Uncle stood up, "Actually, I feel fine," though he did not and fell beside Auntie.

"Not dead. You can't just die!" the Doctor shouted in frustration at the pair, both they were long dead now.

Idris ignored the panic and stood up, "We need to go to where I landed, Doctor. Quickly."

"Why?" Avalon asked, curiously.

"Because we are there in three minutes. We need to go now!" Idris started to run but felt a jab on her stomach and yelped in pain, "Ow! Roughly, how long do these bodies last?"

The Doctor tool the sonic out and scanned her while Avalon helped sustain her, "You're dying," he realized.

"Yes, of course I'm dying," Idris didn't seem too surprised as she snatched the sonic from him, handing it over to Avalon who in awe immediately took it, "I don't belong in a flesh body. I could blow the casing in no time.'

Avalon took a step back, "That would've been good information earlier," she wearily stared at the woman/box, "But, uh, anyways, what are we going to do?" she looked led at Idris and the Doctor with an expectant expression.

"Oh I thought you were mad at me," the Doctor smirked.

"I am, but I'm no idiot," she wiped the smirk off his face, "You and her are the only ones with the knowledge to get me back to my world. So get to focusing and get me out of here!"

"On what? How? I'm a madman with a box, without a box!" he tried to snatch the screwdriver from her, "I'm stuck down the plughole at the end of the universe on a stupid old junkyard! Oh."

Avalon knew that look he had on his face, it meant there was a plan brewing, "What is it?" she put her hands behind her back along with his sonic.

"No, I'm not," he mumbled to him in thought.

"Not what?" even Idris was curious to know what he was thinking of.

"Cos it's not a junkyard. Don't you see? It's not a junkyard!"

"And he lost his eyesight too, what a shame," Avalon mocked-sighed as she moved around.

"You, calm down," Idris pointed at her and glanced at the Doctor, "What is it, then?"

"It's a TARDIS junkyard!" the Doctor exclaimed, still trying to get his sonic from the ginger to no avail, "Come on! Ooh, sorry," he stopped his attempts and looked at Idris, "Do you have a name?"

"700 years, finally he asks," Idris shook her head, Avalon smiling at the sarcasm the woman displayed.

"But what do I call you?"

"I think you call me... Sexy," Idris put her hands on her hips.

The Doctor's eyes widened, startled she'd just released private information, "Only when we're alone!"

"You can have this back," Avalon chucked him his sonic, the man scrambling to catch it, "Because that is gold compared to a stupid sonic screwdriver," she laughed as she headed for the exit.

"Look what you did," the Doctor muttered at Idris who was smirking, "She won't be letting that go, ever!"

"Well at least she won't be angry with you anymore," Idris pointed out as she crossed her arms, "Because we both know how her temper is," she laughed suddenly, "Even as a newborn she was quite the arguer!"

Knowing Avalon was gone, the turned to Idris completely serious, "You knew her as a baby?"

"Of course!" Idris waved him off and moved for the exit, "You brought her in when she was just a little baby," she mimicked the rocking of a baby.

"I brought her in..." the Doctor repeated in confusion. There were so many things that didn't make sense about Avalon and now he had this piece of information? He frowned. "Who sent her that letter?" he asked quietly. "You're the TARDIS therefore you must know who gave Avalon the letter that warns her she's in danger? Who sent it?"

Idris' face softened, giving the impression that she did know something. "What the letter says is true. She's in danger but you can keep her safe. It's what you've been doing right?"

"You're not answering the question!"

"And you know I can't. It's all fixed points."

"Suddenly I think she should be mad with me," the Doctor muttered and went after Avalon. Each time he tried to get some answers, all he got instead were reminders that he would play a part in whatever was coming for her.

Idris watched after him with a grim face, neither knew what was to come, nor what had already come. What's worse what she had to keep quiet or it could bring, terrible, terrible, consequences.

~ 0 ~

The Doctor had an impossible idea to recreate a console with the different remnants of TARDISES around. And even though Avalon was still crossed with him, she handed back the screwdriver for him to use on their work ahead. She was smart, she knew, but she was no where near competent enough to build another TARDIS console from scratch. So, while he and Idris worked on that console, she stood to the side with her arms crossed as she stood staring at the two. And because she was still crossed with the Doctor, she was quite enjoying herself as she watched him struggle to pull a piece of wall with a rope.

"Bond the tube directly into the Tachyon Diverter," Idris called, eyeing Avalon with an amused smile, knowing the ginger was far more amused with the Doctor's struggle than she ought to be.

"Yes, yes, I have actually rebuilt a TARDIS before, you know. I know what I'm doing," the Doctor rolled his eyes.

"You're like a nine-year-old trying to rebuild a motorbike in his bedroom. And you never read the instructions."

"I always read the instructions!"

"Ha!" Avalon scoffed loudly, taking a seat on a pile of scraps and crossing her arms, "That's as true as saying I'm a perfect little angel."

"You're not," Idris pointed at her, "And wipe that smirk off your face, Doctor," she glanced at the alien in time to see him surprised she'd caught him without looking, "You know, there's a sign on my front door. You have been walking past it for 700 years. What does it say?"

"Oh, this ought to be good," Avalon smirked.

"Shut up!" the Doctor exclaimed at her then looked at Idris with a frown, "That's not instructions!"

"There's an instruction at the bottom. What does it say?" Idris asked, expecting some type of defer from the answer.

"Oh, I know!" Avalon raised her hand, knowing it would stick it to the Doctor right in the ego, "Pull to open!" she clapped her hands and smirked at the Doctor, "And I know exactly what he does."

"Be quiet," he snapped, although the ginger didn't seem to mind she was only infuriating him more.

"You push the doors open," she continued with an even wider smirk.

"Every single time. 700 years," Idris had to join in, although she didn't do it to irritate the Doctor more, "Police Box doors open out the way."

The Doctor threw down the rope in anger and stalked towards the two, "I think I've earned the right to open my front doors any way I want!"

"Wow, that was a great comeback," Avalon patted his arm and moved around him, "Told you, Idris, you should've gotten a better Time Lord pilot."

"That is it!" the Doctor whirled around and went after her, "I am sick of your sarcastic little snaps just because I don't want to tell you something! Frankly, GET OVER IT!"

Deep anger set across Avalon's face as she turned to face him. "Yeah, get over the fact that the one person I look up to doesn't trust me like I trust him." And somehow, that anger faltered the more she thought about it. "Sure," she turned away from him.

The Doctor realized that was not the way he wanted to talk to her but after so much time taking her insults and remarks...he exploded. He never wanted to do that, ever, but everyone had their breaking point. He reached to touch her arm and turn her to him but he couldn't find the courage to do so. He took his trembling hand away and turned from her, avoiding the stare of Idris as well. Without knowing, Avalon had walked several steps away from him and Idris as her tears grew harder to keep inside.

~ 0 ~

With the makeshift console having three walls set up and its console nearly finished, Idris took chance to try and get Avalon to rejoin her and the Doctor. The ginger had stayed away for quite some minutes since her last 'conversation' with the Doctor. Idris was trying to remain impartial to both sides, seeing faults in both of them as well as some good points for each, but really disliked it when Avalon was upset. That was why she always made sure she led Avalon straight to the Doctor when she was in need of help. Who else than him, right?

"Hey..." Idris felt nervous to initiate conversations, probably due to the fact she never had a conversation with anyone with actual words coming from her mouth. She didn't even have a mouth! She knelt down beside Avalon, the ginger with her arms crossed and gaze on the floor, her eyes visibly red from the quiet tears that had been flowing down her face.

"I don't need a pity talk," Avalon spoke quietly, not even looking at Idris, "Leave me alone."

Idris stared at the woman for a couple minutes before speaking up again. "A little fairy comes at night, her eyes are blue, her hair is brown..." As Idris started reciting the poem, Avalon's eyes flickered to the woman in shock. "...with silver spots upon her wings, and from the moon she flutters down..."

"I've heard that before..." Avalon said quietly and quickly tried remembering where on Earth she'd heard those lines. "That's a poem. I know it's a poem but I just..."

"The Dream Fairy," Idris gave her the name of the poem. "I thought you'd remember some of it."

"But where did I hear that from?" Avalon remained puzzled even after ransacking her mind for the stupid poem.

"It'll come to you later," Idris dismissed it and moved onto the more pressing matter. "You and the Doctor...this argument cannot continue."

Avalon rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd take his side. You don't trust me either."

"No, no, it's not that, and stop saying that!" Idris scolded.

"I don't get it," Avalon continued sadly, "He's told Amy, Rory, he's even told Lena! Heck, I bet even River Song knows about this than me. Everyone knows but me, why?" she looked at Idris, "Everyone says it's not because he doesn't trust me...what's the reason then?"

It broke Idris's heart to see Avalon like that. Idris knew the Doctor meant well, she understood his reasons, but it was beginning to cause a wedge in his relation with her. That was something Idris would never permit, not as long as she was around. She looked over to the Doctor, knowing very well he'd been eavesdropping as usual, and gave him a stern look. Upon realizing what she was going to do he dropped what he was doing and violently shook his head and hands, eyes wide as could be.

"Do you know why he's afraid to tell you?" she began questioning Avalon.

"Afraid?" Avalon repeated in confusion.

"Mhm," Idris nodded her head, discreetly glancing at the Doctor to see him still shaking his head at her, "You have such a wonderful image of him, adorable one too," she winked and Avalon blushed.

"Privacy means nothing to you people," Avalon mumbled, eyeing Idris, "Or boxes."

Idris chuckled, "Honey, I'm a box, I see everything whether I want to or not," she shrugged, "And that includes writing," she tapped Avalon's nose, "Sorry about that. But because I see everything, I know how you look at him and how much he wants to keep it like that," Avalon raised her eyebrows in confusion. Idris glanced at the Doctor one more time to let him know she was going through with it, much to his horror, "The reason he won't tell you that big secret is because he doesn't want to lose the image you have of him."

"But...but I don't...I don't understand," Avalon shook her head and looked back to the Doctor but saw him already coming towards them, as well as throwing a glare at Idris for some reason.

"What do you call him?" Idris urgently asked her, seeing their time was about to end.

"What?" Avalon was too distracted to focus on the question.

"The Doctor, what do you call him all the time? C'mon Ava," Idris tugged on the gingers sleeve.

"Leave it alone," the Doctor snapped at her as he neared them.

"No, I will not," Idris snapped right back, "I love both of you and I will not dismiss this opportunity where I can actually talk to help both of you. Avalon," she looked at the ginger again, "Please, what do you call him, eh? That name you gave him when you were just seven years old."

"Fairy-tale man," Avalon answered slowly, still in confusion.

"And that is exactly what he doesn't want to lose," Idris smiled sadly, "That image you have of him since you were seven."

Avalon stood up and faced the Doctor, slightly less confused, "Is that true?"

"Well..." the Doctor shifted on his feet, unable to look her in the eyes.

Avalon didn't need him to actually say the answer, she could see it clearly from his nervousness and stance, "What can be that bad that you would think that?" but she received no answer from him nor Idris, "Is it...is it really that bad?" she asked in a whisper.

"Honestly, Ava, yes," the Doctor reached for her hands and tugged her closer, "It's awful, the worst thing you will hear about me, and I'm...I'm scared of what you'll think of me afterwards."

"But you told everyone else," Avalon quietly reminded, "You weren't afraid with them?"

"Of course I was..."

"Then?"

"I don't know, Ava, I just...I want you to keep seeing me as that fairy-tale man you always call me. The one that always comes and rescues people in need, one that you're not afraid of..."

"I could never be afraid of you, silly," Avalon smiled, touched he had that much care for some nickname she appropriated on him as a child.

"You might be after you know."

"Was Lena afraid of you after you told her?"

"Well, no..."

"Then?"

"Really, Ava, I don't know why it's so hard with you..." the Doctor sighed, missing the sharp look Idris threw at him.

He really is an idiot, she thought. Even Avalon was being slow on it! Oh, as soon as she was back where she belonged she would take it upon herself to push them together. It had been amusing at first to watch them but it'd grown a bit agitating once the blushing and cute little comments got old...like right now.

"Well I don't know if this'll make a difference or not but it really hurts me to know that everyone else knows your secret except for me," Avalon took her hands back with a sigh, "Makes me feel like an outcast."

"No, Avalon, that's not..." the Doctor tried to mend the issue but Avalon forced a small smile as she moved away from him, "...it's not like that," he sighed and gave up.

"Well good going, genius," Idris set her hands on her hips as she moved up to him.

"Why would you tell her that!?" he demanded from her with irritation, "That was something she didn't need to know!".

"Better question would be why haven't you told her that?" she countered then laughed, "You mean well, but you have to understand that you're hurting her and that's the last thing you want, right?"

"Of course, it's just hard, no one gets it..." the Doctor huffed and looked away.

"Not even you," Idris rolled her eyes at his obliviousness, "Idiot," she muttered.

After a couple more minutes, the makeshift console had finally been completed. The trio stood a couple feet away from it while they studied it.

"So...that is supposed to get us back to the TARDIS?" Avalon asked after a good moment of silence.

"It's perfect!" the Doctor exclaimed, "What could possibly go wrong?"

Avalon watched as one small piece fell off the console. "That," she pointed at it.

"That's fine, that always happens," the Doctor waved it off, looking away with a face, "No! Hang on! Wait!" he ran off with the women watching after him. He returned holding a bright, red rope with him.

"Why?" Idris sighed in resignation, never used to the deranged ideas her thief always had.

"You know...for princesses...and stuff," he eyed Avalon with a smile, hoping she'd be less angry now since she was accepting to be this close to him and Idris.

"VIP," Avalon gave a light chuckle, making him beam.

Idris discreetly smirked as she moved up to the console, leaving them to follow. The Doctor led Avalon up to the console and secured the ropes around and latched them to the console.

"Right. OK, let's go," the Doctor made sure they were all set to go, "Follow that TARDIS!" he flicked a couple switches to the console but unfortunately they weren't going anywhere.

"What's happened?" Avalon frowned, seeing the complete fail of the console.

"It can't hold the charge. I can't even start it," the Doctor tried a couple more switches to no avail, "There's no power! I've got nothing!"

"Oh, my beautiful idiot," Idris rolled her eyes, "You have what you've always had - you've got me," she kissed her finger and made it glow with energy as she placed it on the central column. Avalon watched in pure awe as the energy circled them with a field and set them to dematerialize.

First thing they did when they were off was to send a message to Amy and Rory, thankfully Idris was able to do so with the TARDIS telepathy circuits. They were left directions to head back to the old control room where they would lower the shields of the box. They could guess that the humans were in a bit of a pickle with House controlling the TARDIS and so hoped they would get there soon.

Amy and Rory had to do a guessing trick to avoid being hit by the nearing makeshift console. Thankfully, the trio appeared on the other side of the console room, on the floor.

"Doctor!" Amy sighed of relief as the man stood up.

"Rory!" Avalon jumped to her feet and rushed to hug him, really glad to see him again. She felt Idris stand slowly with a hand on her hip, "Not good. Not good at all," she took a breath and thanked the Doctor who returned to help her, "How do you walk around in these things?"

"With our legs," Avalon pointed to her feet, earning a mock-glare from Idris, "Just saying," she raised her hands in defeat.

"What's going on?" Rory eyed Idris with reluctance, not too keen to have his best friend near a crazy woman.

"Rory, Amy, this is..." the Doctor couldn't even find the right introduction, "Well, she's my TARDIS. Except she's a woman. She's a woman, and she's my TARDIS."

Amy's jaw fell open, "She's the TARDIS?!"

"And she's a woman. She's a woman and she's the TARDIS."

"He wished that hard," Avalon smirked, making Amy laugh.

"Shut up!" the Doctor frowned and quickly looked at Amy for clarification, "Not like that."

"Wait for it, it gets better," Avalon bit her lip as she turned to Idris, "What's your name?"

"Sexy," Idris smirked.

"Oh," Rory looked between the two laughing gingers.

"I hate you!" the Doctor declared for Avalon, though part of him was slightly glad she was making her usual mock-insulting comments because it meant that she wasn't that angry with him anymore.

"The environment has been breached. Nephew, kill them all," House's voice rang through the room, reminding everyone there was still a bad guy to defeat.

"Where's Nephew?" Rory looked around for the missing Ood.

"He was standing right where you materialized," Amy pointed at the Doctor and Idris.

"Ah, well," the Doctor made a face, "He must have been redistributed."

Avalon caught his little face and sighed, "...and that means...?"

"You're breathing him."

All three companions covered their noses like a pack of dominoes, making the Doctor smile in amusement.

"Doctor, I did not expect you," House said.

"Well, that's me all over, isn't it?" he looked around, "Lovely old unexpected me."

"The big question is, now you're here, how to dispose of you? I could play with gravity..." House made the entire group fall down with the gravity and after a moment released them, though Idris couldn't stand up anymore and collapsed a second time. Avalon and Rory went to help her while House continued playing his tricks, "Or I could evacuate the air from this room and watch you choke," he then took out the air from the room, making everyone choke for air.

"You really don't want to do that!" the Doctor shouted.

House returned the air, "Why shouldn't I just kill you now?"

"Because then I won't be able to help you! Listen to your engines. Just listen to them. You don't have the thrust and you know it. I'm your only hope for getting out of your little bubble, through the rift, and into my universe. And mine's the one with the food in! You just have to promise not to kill us. That's all, just promise."

Idris took Avalon's arm and used it to tug her down where she whispered something to the ginger. For a moment, Avalon seemed confused at the words she was hearing, but after a moment it seemed to dawn on her...

"You can't be serious," Amy was scolding the Doctor for his lack of intelligence at the moment. House would kill them the moment they were back in the universe.

"I'm very serious. I'm sure it's an entity of its word," the Doctor calmly said and looked back at Idris, walking back to her as he saw her health quickly deteriorating, "Hey. Hang in there, old girl. Not long now. It'll be over soon."

Idris smiled, "I always liked it when you call me... old girl."

"You want me to give my word? Easy. I promise," House assured, though everyone knew that was a vile lie.

"Fine. OK. I trust you," the Doctor stood up, "Just delete, ooh, 30% of the TARDIS rooms, you'll free up thrust enough to make it through. Activate sub-routine Sigma-9."

"Why would you tell me this?"

"Because we want to get back to our universe as badly as you do. And I'm nice."

"And I really hope an idiot with a plan," Avalon mumbled to Rory who quickly agreed.

"Ye-e-s. I can delete rooms, and I can also rid myself of vermin if I delete this room first. Thank you, Doctor, very helpful. Goodbye, Time Lord. Goodbye, little humans. Goodbye, Idris."

A flash of light engulfed the room and left the group back in the current console room. The Doctor strode around the place with a small smirk, "Yes. I mean you could do that, but it just won't work. Hardwired fail-safe. Living things from rooms that are deleted are automatically deposited in the main control room. But thanks for the lift!" he looked back at the others, seeing Avalon and Rory standing but remaining by Idris's side while Amy stood up not too far away from them.

"We are in your Universe now, Doctor. Why should it matter to me in which room you die?" House seemed less than concerned, "I can kill you just as easily here as anywhere. Fear me. I've killed hundreds of Time Lords."

The Doctor had a good comeback that would silence that stupid entity right at the moment...there was just one thing getting in the way, one person. But that didn't matter anymore, Idris was right...in a long run his good intentions were hurting her. "Fear me," he swallowed hard, "I've killed all of them," he slowly glanced over his shoulder to Avalon.

Her eyes were wide after hearing those powerful words, almost matching her horror. She looked over to Amy for confirmation, the other ginger nodded her head silently.

"I don't understand, there isn't a forest in here," Rory's voice broke through the silence in the room.

"Yeah, you're right. You've completely won," the Doctor recomposed himself for House, "Oh, you can kill us in oodles of really inventive ways, but before you do kill us allow me and friends, Avalon, Amy and Rory to congratulate you on being an absolutely worthy opponent," he clapped his hands and grabbed Amy by the arm, forcing her to clap along with him.

"Congratulations!" Amy said awkwardly, still clapping even though knowing no reason why she was clapping in the first place.

"Yep, you've defeated us, me and my lovely friends here at last but definitely not least the TARDIS Matrix herself, a living consciousness you ripped out of this very control room and locked up into a human body and look at her!"

"Doctor, she's stopped breathing," Rory looked up from Idris.

"Enough!" ordered House, "That is enough."

"No. It's never enough. You forced the TARDIS into a body so she'd burn out safely a very long way away from this control room. A flesh body can't hold the TARDIS Matrix and live. Look at her body, House," the Doctor turned to look at Idris.

"And you think I should mourn her?"

"No. I think you should be very, very careful about what you let back into this control room," the Doctor watched the energy flow from Idris' mouth, "You took her from her home. But now she's back in the box again and she's free!" the energy streamed throughout the room, altering the green light of House back to the common gold.

"No! Doctor, stop this!" House was crying out in pain, "OW! Stop this now!"

"Oh, look at my girl, look at her go!" the Doctor cheered, "Bigger on the inside! You see, House?"

"Make it stop!"

"That's your problem. Size of a planet, but inside you're just so small!"

"Make it stop!"

"Finish him off, girl," the Doctor ordered, rather darkly.

For a couple more seconds the group continued to hear the cries of House. The room slowly turned back to its usual golden color, leaving them an eerie silence. The Doctor turned for Avalon, the ginger immediately taking a step back, too jumbled up to be able to have a decent conversation.

"Doctor? Are you there?" his attempt to get to the ginger was cut off by the Idris's call. He turned to see a glowing projection of her in front of the console, "It's so very dark in here."

"I'm here..." he softly said.

"I've been looking for a word. A big, complicated word, but so sad. I've found it now."

"What word?"

"Alive," Idris smiled, "I'm alive!"

"Alive isn't sad," the Doctor said in confusion.

"It's sad when it's over. I'll always be here. But this is when we talked and now even that has come to an end. There's something I didn't get to say to you."

"Goodbye?"

"No, I just wanted to say... hello," Idris smiled sadly, even through her projection one could see her eyes were teary, "Hello, Doctor. It's so very, very nice to meet you."

"Please!" the Doctor's eyes also teared up, "I don't want you to. Please!" but he had to step back as the projection dissipated, a bright light emerging soon afterwards along with the sounds of the TARDIS.

"I love you," they were able to hear Idris's last words.

"...where...?" confused, the Doctor faced the console, also in an attempt to hide his own face.

The companions looked at each other with uncertainty of what to do next. However, Avalon was quietly mumbling words under her breath, the same ones Idris had repeated to her earlier, growing distant with the seconds.

~ 0 ~

Later on, Amy and Rory came down underneath the console where the Doctor sat on the swing fixing up the mess of wires House had left behind.

"How's it going?" Rory asked.

"Just putting a firewall around the Matrix. Almost done."

"Are you going to make her talk again?" Amy wondered as she took a seat on one of the stairs.

"Can't," the Doctor shook his head.

"Why not?" Rory curiously asked.

"Spacey-wacey, isn't it?" Amy chuckled.

"Well actually," the Doctor stopped with the wires to explain, "It's because the Time Lords discovered that if you take an eleventh-dimensional matrix and fold it into a mechanical then..." and Rory then touched two wires together, making them spark, "Yes, it's spacey-wacey!" the Doctor shooed the human off.

"Sorry. At the end, she was talking. She kept repeating something," Rory recalled the odd words of Idris, "I don't know what it meant."

The Doctor stood up, "What did she say?"

"The only water in the forest is the river. And that harmony is part of a melody. She said we'd need to know that someday. It doesn't make sense, does it?"

"Not yet."

"But she told Avalon something too," Rory remembered, "And it was different."

"Speaking of, where is she?" the Doctor looked behind the two companions in hopes of catching a glimpse of the other ginger who'd been away for some time now. Though he could imagine why she'd made no appearance...

"She's in her room," Amy shrugged, eyeing the concern of the Doctor, "Just give her some time, she'll come out when she's ready."

"Yeah, everything's going to be fine," Rory assured, "I know Ava like the back of my hand. She's just got some thinking to do, that's all. And you know what happens when she thinks..."

"She writes," both Rory and the Doctor said together.

"Which means it'll be hours before she'll come out," Amy stood up with a tired sigh, "So it's time for bed."

"The House deleted all the bedrooms. I should make you two a new bedroom," the Doctor recalled, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Rory whispered several words to Amy, "OK. Doctor, this time, could we lose the bunk beds?" she asked the Doctor, "You didn't give Avalon nor Lena one."

"First of all, when the TARDIS made Avalon a room I sort of made sure it would be a room that she loved due to the fact our beginning wasn't in good terms," the Doctor pointed at them, making both humans recall the very tensed relation he and Avalon shared during the early days, "And second of all, Lena needed a proper room for her health. I wouldn't dare mess with that."

"So you gave us the crappy rooms," Amy huffed playfully.

"No, I gave you the coolest, fun rooms! bunk beds are cool. A bed with a ladder! You can't beat that," the Doctor insisted. He received the sharp looks from them and sighed, "It's your room. Up those stairs, keep walking till you find it. Off you pop!"

"Doctor, do you have a room?" Rory inquired as Amy grabbed him and pulled him up the stairs.

The Doctor wiped off a few more spots in the wires, ignoring the question. His mind was a bit too focused on Avalon and how she was reacting to his actions. He was truly terrified of what could happen once she came out of that room. In fact, he was a bit curious to go and knock and just get her words straight in the face.

What was taking her so long!?

~ 0 ~

Avalon finished writing the last words in her journal, looking at the lines she'd written. She sat on her bed with her back to the headboard, had been for some time now. She read the words she wrote over and over, her brain too jumbled to understand them.

A little fairy comes at night,

Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown'

with silver spots upon her wings,

And from the moon she flutters down.

She has a little silver wand,

And when a good child goes to bed

She waves her wand from left to right

And makes a circle round her head

And then it dreams of pleasant things,

Of fountains filled with fairy fish,

And trees that bear dilicious fruit,

And bow their branches at a wish;

Of arbours filled with dainty scents

From lovely flowers that never fade,

Bright flies that glitter in the sun,

And glow-worms shining in the shade;

And talking birds with gifted tongues

For singing songs and telling tales,

And pretty dwarfs to show the way

Through fairy hills and fairy dales.

Avalon sighed as she once again had nothing from this poem that Idris said to her. "Where did this come from?" she looked up at the ceiling, "Why did you tell me this poem?" there was a light hum she received back, "I don't get it, I don't..." she snapped shut her journal and placed it beside her, rubbing her temples afterwards,

Avalon let everything go and stood up, taking a deep breath as she stared at the door. Suddenly, her phone went off and startled her. She went to her desk where her phone laid and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Avalon, where are you!?" Lena's voice was loud enough for Avalon to flinch again, "Ian's here and he says if you want to go to that party it's still up for grabs."

"Party, right," Avalon whispered, barely remembering she had even gotten dressed for the big ole party.

"Avalon, what's going on? You coming or not?" Lena asked, already suspecting something was wrong with her sister.

"Um, yeah, yeah," Avalon nodded slowly as she realized that perhaps a party was just what she needed. She smiled brightly as she got more into the idea, "Yeah! I'll be there in five!" she hung up and dashed out the door with the phone in hand.

She was running with a genuine smile as she thought of all the fun she was about to have, especially after the events that took place earlier in the day, "Doctor" she called and came to a skidded halt in the console room as she saw he was silently going around the console, also probably thinking of the earlier events, "Um..."

"You're out," the Doctor gasped lightly, his face lighting up at the sight of her, "You came out..." he moved to meet her but remembered she knew his secret and became nervous of what she could do.

"Yeah..." Avalon nodded slowly, "...em, I got, um..." she waved her cell phone, making the Doctor assume the worst.

"You can't go home!" he shook his head fast, "Please! I know what I did was awful and you can't see that fairy-tale man you always saw me as-"

"I'm not going home, Doctor," Avalon shook her head, scoffing at the idea.

"You're...you're not?"

"No," she crossed her arms, sadly watching him, "I'll admit it's no easy thing to assimilate...and after today..." she trailed off as he turned to the console, looking even more mortified. She felt uncomfortable and awkward seeing as how she acted all day to him over the secret. She sighed and reached for his arm with her free hand, "Can I say...I'm sorry for my behavior today?"

"You're apologizing," the Doctor blinked, really not that one. She'd done nothing wrong unlike him!

"I was out of line and I'm sorry, and since this probably won't be the last time this happens I'll apologize in advance."

He had to smile at that, "At least your sense of humor is coming back, let's me know you're not that upset."

"I'm sorry for what happened with, um..." she looked at the console with a sad smile, "...she was so eccentric and yet so...warm and kind. You did good in taking her."

"You think so?"

"Brought you to us, didn't it?" she smiled brightly, "Turned our sleepover upside down! And...I think she took a good Time Lord too," she added.

"Really?" the Doctor started to smirk seeing she was taking back all her insults.

"Yes, but-" she raised a finger, "-all my previous statements about your clothing and hair still stand," and she wiped that smirk off his face.

"Oh c'mon!"

Avalon laughed at him, "C'mon you," she gestured, "It's the 21st century! In fact I was born in the 51st century and people still didn't wear...that," she dragged a finger up and down in the air at him.

"Well...at least your laughing again," the Doctor sighed, resigned to hear any other complain she had about his clothes.

Avalon looked at him for that, always intrigued why he let her remarks slide when no one else did. It just showed how much better of a person he was than her, "And listen...about the secret, and stuff, um..." but the way the Doctor instantly fell grim and glum made her not want to continue.

It was clear it was a private matter that still troubled him and she had no right to question about it nor dig into it. She got what she wanted in the end, to know what he had done. Suddenly, winning was no fun this time round. Today he'd lost so much and she hadn't helped one bit, the least she could do now was act like a true friend, because that's all he'd been doing to her ever since they met.

She ended up hugging him, much to his surprise. She could never come up with the right words for what he had to have gone through in hat war, so a hug would have to suffice. The Doctor of course wasn't expecting it, but he wasn't going to reject it either. He knew it was her way of saying things were okay, how could he not hug back?

The sound of her phone vibrating startled Avalon into pulling away. She looked at the lock screen and read the message, from Lena, telling her to hurry up or Ian would drop the party offer.

"Is that for your party?" the Doctor pointed, remembering such plan, unable to help the disappointed tinge in his tone. He didn't like the idea of her going off with some guy to a party where anything could happen, because bad things could happen, and he didn't want Avalon to be hurt. That was it.

"Um...yeah," Avalon looked up at him, registering his expression, "My party got cancelled," she spoke slowly and bit her lip, "Ian realized I was too much of a troublemaker and didn't want to take a risk on me. Oh well," she glanced down at her phone for a moment as she replayed what she'd just said.

Why had she just said that!? She'd been looking forward to this party for years! It was all she could talk about with Ian every time they saw each other. As soon as she turned twenty one she'd hit those clubs! Why had she just done that?

"Really?" the Doctor immediately asked, a small smile escaping through his lips, "Canceled..."

Avalon saw his brighten up face and nodded, throwing away all those thoughts she had in her mind. It was definitely worth it, "Mhm, oh well. Um, maybe you want to do something?" she asked, eyeing the console, "Maybe get your mind off this day?"

"Y-yeah, that sounds...that sounds really great, actually," the Doctor nodded, his smile widening.

"In fact, I already got an idea!"

"What is it?"

"How do you feel about a fencing match?" Avalon raised an eyebrow a tint of a smirk already playing on her lips, "And we can make it interesting, of course."

"Fencing?" the Doctor said with reluctance.

"I'm sure the TARDIS wouldn't mind creating a fencing room for us, wouldn't you dear?" she called to the box and received several hums back, making her laugh, "I think it's done! So how bout it, then, hm?" she stepped closer to him, "I challenge you."

"I don't know, Ava..."

"C'mon, are you afraid I'll beat you?"

"I've had my shares of fencing practices," the Doctor informed her, "It'd be cheating if I accepted."

"Sort of what happened with my playing cards," she raised her arm where his old watch was still strapped to her wrist, "And that's how you lost this," she tapped the glass of his watch.

"You cheated!"

Avalon laughed again, "Then here's your opportunity to win it back. Wanna hear my wager?" the Doctor sighed but nodded for her to go on, "Okay, if I win, I get to keep your watch and..." her eyes drifted to the console, the Doctor following her gaze with dread, "You have to teach me how to drive this box."

"Oh, Ava..."

Avalon clapped her hands together, already so excited for the match, "What's yours?"

The Doctor hace her a sharp look, not too keen on letting her have that wager...until something else hit him, something he'd always been curious to know about, "If I win..." he began and smiled as Avalon beamed that he'd accepted, "...I get that back, first of all," he pointed at his watch, "And..." and he started smirking, "...you have to tell me about those stories you wrote about me I always hear about."

Avalon's eyes widened, making his smirk widened, "But then you'd know..." she whispered, going pale just at the thought.

"Know what?"

"You can't-" she began to protest but received a hand to stop her.

"Those are the wages, deal?"

She made a face at him but ended up shaking his hand, the only good thing being that he was looking more happy, "Deal," she said to him.

"Excellent!"

"Let me just make a call first..." Avalon waved her phone and backed away. She loved the look of excitement on his face and so hurried to the corridors to make that call and get back to him. She quickly dialed Lena back and awaited for the line to be picked up, "Lena!"

"Avalon, where are you? Ian's getting impatient!" Lena exclaimed.

"Lena, listen," Avalon calmed her sister down and spoke in a hushed tone in case the Doctor was eavesdropping again, "Tell Ian thank you but I'm gonna pass on the party."

"What!? But that's like your number one thing on that bucket list you made!" Lena gasped, "What happened?"

"Something important came up," Avalon honestly said, smiling at what awaited for her back in the console room, "Tell Ian I said thanks but no thanks. Bye!" she hung up and tossed her phone back, knowing the I would eventually get it back to her bedroom. She hurried back to the console with a bright smile on her face, "All done," she informed with a light shrug, "You ready, then?" she then noticed the odd look on his face and became worried he'd thought about Idris again, "Doctor?" she cautiously walked up to him.

"I was thinking...maybe we could go somewhere first," he said quietly and turned to her, "I want to talk about that, um, 'secret' with you."

Avalon raised her eyebrows, unsure how to go about that delicate topic, "You don't have to...I mean, I got what I wanted. I know the secret. You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"I need to," the Doctor nodded, taking a deep breath as he reached for her hand, "You have, or had, this fake image of me and I want you to know who you travel with."

"I know who I travel with," Avalon gave a small smile, "My fairy-tale man."

"Last time I checked, fairy tales didn't include the slaughter of an entire planet," the Doctor muttered.

Avalon could see this was important to him, just as much as it had been for her when she demanded to know what the secret was, "Okay, let's talk, then," she gestured to the stairs where they could sit together and have that conversation. "But I have to warn you that it's not going to change how I see you."

"Not here," the Doctor shook his head, "I was thinking we could go out somewhere. Um, have some dinner maybe?"

Avalon blinked with surprise...and with a small blush on her face. If she didn't know any better, that sounded like a...date. And if it was, why was she blushing? It didn't mean it was going to be some romantic ole date, it could very well (and probably) be a friend date, seeing as they would be conversing over something serious.

"Avalon?" the Doctor nervously called her name, wondering if he'd finally scared her off. He needed to sit down and talk to her, tell her exactly what happened and how he came to make that awful decision. And besides, she looked so lovely and pretty the way she was dressed that he couldn't fathom the idea of not taking her out.

Had he just thought that!?

Startled, the Doctor turned to the console and made sure to not look at her, he was sure his face was red as a tomato.

"Dinner, then," Avalon was coming around the idea, "Yeah, alright. I could do dinner," she nodded.

"Yes?" suddenly the Doctor forgot about his blush as he turned for Avalon in excitement.

"Yeah," she nodded again.

"Well then," the Doctor took her hand and led her around the console as he set the controls for their new destination, "Off we go, right?"

She gripped his hand and smiled, "Yes, my Fairy Tale Man."

The Doctor felt his hearts swell at the name she still used so kindly and softly on him. He hoped it would remain like this once he told her everything of his past. This was his Ava, after all.

Author's Note:

Getting to some good parts here! And yes, I know Avalon was a little over-the-top here but put yourself in her shoes: she's the only one who didn't know this big secret! I'd be pissed too! xD

#ocappreciation #doctor who fics #11th doctor fics #doctor who #11th doctor #11th doctor imagines #dw imagine #oc: Avalon Reynolds #oc: Lena Reynolds #fic: falling in temptation

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unproduciblesmackdown · 4 years

Text

also i’ve been mulling over the “we’re Living ex machina!!!!” line and like, it still doesn’t make sense Really, but here’s my Afternoon Musings i guess

i’ve only actually seen ex machina once like 3 years ago but as i remember it goes a little something like This: some rando white-collar programmer guy has like, won a contest where the prize is to go hang out for maybe a few days or a week or so with this ~visionary genius~ tech dude played by oscar isaac at oscar isaac tech dude’s off-the-grid reclusive mansion or whatever.......i thiiiink the Protag Programmer won b/c his programming submission was Really Good but also maybe there’s a [randomly selected] element to it, or maybe we Think it was partly random selection but then learn it was actually All “yeah i chose you b/c your coding was the Best,” idk. doesn’t really matter but anyway yeah protag guy gets helicoptered in to the oscar isaac genius bro’s secret mansion

oscar isaac soon reveals he has this advanced ai android whomst he wants the Protagonist to study / turing test, and the protagonist does that, but during one Conversation Session with this android (who is named ava i think? and designed to Look Like a Woman oo) like the lights turn off and ava-i-think informs the protagonist she’s found a Weakness in the mansion’s security system and hackt it so that the power (and thus the Security / Monitoring Systems) shut down for a minute like this but could feasibly be thought of as a glitch and anyways she’s like yeah i have feelings and thoughts and i want to Not Be Trapped here, ya gotta help me out here buddy, and then yknow ooh the systems come back on, oscar isaac can Observe them again, intrigue.....tl;dr protag and ava keep having these short secret convos and Do plan to break her out, there’s this dramatic moment where oscar isaac (who’s natch been acting weirder and more erratic as the plot unfolds) confronts the protag after the protag has just like, tried to get him blackout smashed by Hanging Out With Him lmfao and oscar isaac is like “ooh i knew you were planning to break her out, i’m gonna stop you guys though haha pwned” but then oh further twist, turns out ava and protag Knew that was the case and were thinking one step ahead and idk but yeah they break her out and oscar isaac dies but ooh further twist!!! ava locks the protag (or well, just Does Not Unlock, As Planned) in some room and leaves the mansion and gets on the Helicopter meant to take the protag back to wherever after the planned end of his stay. and the protag is just stuck there b/c everyone else is dead and presumably he dies as ava gets to exist in the outside world now, idk, we don’t need ex machina 2 where he’s escaped or smthing lmao

and i do NOT get what winston is comparing their situation to lmfao. like, oh rian is like an advanced ai android??? if anything, her being the more like ~true believer in High Finance as a means of socially beneficial effect~ vs winston like, having the supposedly cutthroat and cold Math approach would make Him more of the ~oh no more a robot than a person~ (though i think it’s Ambiguous whether we wanna judge ava as more Scary Bad or Sympathetic).........you can’t even really make the connection that “oh no we’re being deliberately Replaced!!” b/c if winston is [protag programmer rando] and rian is [ava] and wendy is, i guess oscar isaac then, uhhhh oscar isaac most definitely did Not intend to ~replace~ the protag with ava, he very much wanted her trapped in his mansion still........and the protagonist Only got “replaced” by ava in the sense that she took his place on the helicopter out of the reclusive secret mansion. i really doubt she planned to, or would even be able to, like take over his identity/life beyond that.....certainly not his job lol like, coworkers are gonna notice you’re a different person, there was no implication the androids can like oh shapeshift their appearance or whatever, and no implications about what ava even intended to do in the Outside World which is kind of bemusing b/c like, what of the Practical Questions of being an android and needing whatever Fuel Source a robot does, idk that might’ve been addressed or smthing like “oh yeah they can just Eat,” also she clearly does not Trust People considering her only company was evil oscar isaac creator and she wasn’t interested in bringing the protag along, plus yknow the fact that she Did deliberately manipulate the protag into thinking that she wanted to escape into the world With him........but not like i guess she has any choice for any other world to escape into but the one with all the people where she pretends to be an organic human

like there is just NO point of comparison where these situations line up unless you get soooooooo like broad strokes about ex machina that you’d do better to compare your experience to Anything else lmao. like, does winston think she’s some like, ideal advanced version of him?? like you might consider a crafted AI android to be?? i don’t know but i mean i think we have a more feasible explanation for why he’s so Insistent about this totally being Ex Machina, if only b/c as a straightforward comparison i swear to god it doesn’t work lmfao None of these points line up at all with any significance that’s worth insisting on

given that winston’s Apparently Canonically meant to be crushing on rian, and we have his example of ribbing her by calling her “gal gadot’s quirky sister” which is like, okay so the dunk is “you look similar to this famous a-lister who everyone thinks is pretty” and “also you’re quirky, boom” like, i think that could easily be meant as like, a Tell that winston already ~likes~ her.............aaaand it’s also somewhat ~ambiguous~ but i mean i think it’s safe to say that in Ex Machina you may understand the protag as having Fallen For the ai android lady. so maybe we can Understand this invocation of ex machina as being like “ooh person meant to replace me is Attractive but ultimately i think this Overall Situation is a bad thing i shouldn’t feel this way i resent it” like, a bit of a Reach, but honestly it’s way more of a reach to think about applying anything else about this scenario to ex machina, so i could v much believe that the thought that went behind writing this is once again, like, “okay winston’s invoking one thing on the surface level here, but simultaneously he’s already (inadvertently probably) acknowledging like oh also i have a crush on her already”

between this episode seeming to be Setup and the [winston has a Canon crush] and the fact that it probably seems like They Will Fuck A Nonzero Number Of Times or Make Out At Least But It’s Billions So, Might Get A Humorous Cut To [Postcoital] Or A Scene Where They Arrive At Work Together Short Of Breath With Messy Hair And Hickies And Winston’s Got A Hoodie W/ “Property Of Rian” On It Until He Goes "Oh Shit Woops” And Hands It To Her And She’s Like “Oh Btw You Forgot Your Glasses.....Uh You Left Them Here On Your Desk Yesterday I Mean Of Course” And Hands Them To Him And An Unnamed Character Stands Up And Asks “Daily Poll: Who Had Sex With A Coworker Last Night” And Rian And Winston Raise Their Hands Before Going “Oh Wait” And Lowering Them With A Shake Of The Head And A Nervous Cough and i’m exaggerating but you know, the equivalent of the billions writing saying “wwinnnk” at us. i am fine with them having an unsolemn like, quasi-rivals-to-lovers (or -And-lovers) dynamic, even with it being a bit messy in like, still an overall Fun way, where yknow it doesn’t have to be peak epic romance cuz a) that’s just Always true and yet it can still be overall an okay thing even if they don’t quite get it together / mostly just trade sparks and sometimes hook up and b) idk seems like mayybe rian’s character isn’t meant to go beyond this season, so, an inherent limit there if true

i’m like Apologetic for being like “already i like their dynamic even as Romantique and it’s kinda cute and fun and i’m willing to continue to be engaged w/ this as long as the writing doesn’t completely fuck it up” lmao like, i guess i Did inadvertently give myself time to prepare for this exact eventuality b/c of wondering if this exact character would have A Thing w/ winston whenever she showed up and even if i was like “haha the character could show up Anywhere and do Anything and what are the odds, right” i was also like “hmm but i’m going to really think about it though” like, as always, didn’t think i was cassandraing that hard, but truly did do it 4x03 style where everyone else can be like “you never [made the text post or gave any indication you were thinking about “what if whoever she plays and winston have some kind of romance thing going on”]” and i can go “i only thought it but didn’t say it....doesn’t count” but well. i did think it lmao and why would i make it up.......sorry i had such a head start on Getting More Used To This Notion.......some crimes can never be forgiven.meme.......

anyways natch “intense horrible passionate” seems a little foreboding but maybe she was talking about it relative to [any Normal show] rather than the standards we’re used to on billions, where this was all but a Meet Cute, and a kind of quasi coworker rivalry where nobody’s taking it *that* deeply seriously and they also seem to mutually like each other by the end of 5x05 already so how not-amicable can it get. and re: Intense like, maybe the writing in future episodes will totally upend this, but i’d say rian and winston in 5x05, even when “clashing,” was like damn near laidback and chill. neither of them seem at all that pressed, but maybe even a sorta-playful Friendly Rivalry is more “intense” than, say, a dynamic that involves no rivalry at all. imo “Passionate” is just like, okay, so they’ll fuck or at least make out? sure. not sure what to make of “horrible” lmfao maybe again it’s addressing like “this is a lil messy and they’re kinda rivals!!!” like, certainly not an ideal start, except by billions standards it IS weirdly great. rian seeming good-naturedly amused by winston is something we didn’t get from his longtime-coworkers until like, now, sort of, and still not to the degree that anyone has smiled at him as many times as rian did in like that course of [1 min long First Scene Together] wherein also winston always gets off to a way worse start with people lmao............like everything about this seems Way Better And More Dialed Back And Grounded than usual, actually. but it’s that like, point of reference of “what’s Usual for winston and, more broadly, Billions” that maybe explains this weirdly strong language when all in 5x05 seemed chill actually

anyways like i said Sorry For Already Liking Rian/Winston This Much with my head start and all where like, i’m even tentatively looking forward to seeing where this goes, by “tentative” i also mean going [”i’ll kill you” the office.jpg] at billions where i am fully aware that maybe where this goes *is* a mess and not in like, just kind of a fun, non-melodramatic, not-treated-like-a-total-joke-but-also-not-that-big-a-deal way, where 5x05 could seem like Those Halcyon Days b/c everything from here out just devolves into an unappealing disaster.......but this is an unexpectedly solid start imo and like. even if this doesn’t become like this epic romance where they officially date and if rian does eventually depart the show by the end of the season, it can still just be Enjoyable and Fun for the characters and, god forbid, the viewers, where like, you don’t have to demand we be desperately invested with our entire life in this deadly serious heartwrenching epic romance, they can just kind of mess around and enjoy having a mutual attraction w/ this mathy rivalry and etc and it’s neither a tragedy of “the greatest love story of all time torn asunder” Or, truly god forbid,” this is a Whole Mess In A Bad Way b/c winston’s involved and ugh who could Really like him, being at all romantically entangled is an embarrassing mistake surely, ew cringe we hate him............like, cautiously optimistic in how like i always say that a Romantic Arc is just an easy/efficient way to develop both characters and it could certainly humanize winston an ounce in a show that treats him more like a walking algorithmic plot device and the thoughts of any viewers but us are limited to “winston annoying” basically........the show doesn’t seem to treat rian as a joke, so it seems possible that their mutual Romance in whatever way it unfolds could also be Not A Joke, which means winston’s part in it isn’t a joke, so that’s Some aspect of him for people to take seriously, for once..........like, the way his apparently-already-official crush played out in 5x05 *was* funny but it also didn’t seem like oh it’s a joke b/c his feelings are a total joke......it might seem that way if this *was* totally unrequited and going nowhere, but i somewhat get the sense that the interest is mutual even by the end of the ep, that didn’t strike me as a “shove off, it could Never Happen” shutdown from rian there, just like, hold off on that for rn maybe cue to rein it in a little, not just yet........anyways lmao i’m like “oh yeah i started this post about the baffling ex machina thing” but yeah the point is i think so far it’s pretty solid and i like it and am cautiously but [relative-to-billions level of Hopeful] about whatever developments we’re surely gonna get b/c it def sounds like this has Not ended with 5x05, but seriously @ billions i swear to god. yes so far the approach to winston’s crush here and even their unfolding mutual dynamique and dare i say, romantic interest, is being handled with an encouraging level of “this is Humorous but the characters / their feelings are not what’s being treated as A Total Joke or anything,” but who knows what will come next, this is billions and you can’t predict anything. fingers crossed about it all, though

#winston billions #i'm enjoying what we have so far anyways While I Can #still billions-grade Hopeful that it will continue to be enjoyable.......#i can imagine that things could continue to unfold in a fairly cute & fun way. i am already somewhat Doing So b/c i like them enough already #have enough gentle optimism that i absolutely can be let down by next week's developments...........We Shall See #seriously just tl;dr i'm not the least bit sure what the ex machina thing means. tentative ''it's as much a Clue that winston already kinda #is crushing as much as idk.....meaning anything else at all'' lmao.........like okay whatever it's billions just roll w/ the weird refs #like the seeming nascar-or-whatever related one whomever taylor was talking about tony womsthever from 2005?? i didnt research too much into #that like i don't need to know cuz idc and Why Would They.....maybe it's like wendy making the unnecessary metallica reference 4 sec later #where everyone's just automatically in [unnecessary references] mode.........#riawin

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officialleehadan · 5 years

Text

Trouble comes in Twos

For Jennifer, who upgraded during my Subscriber drive, and got herself a second prompt while she was at it. I love seeing your comments, darling! You asked for more of Between Us Girls, and a kiss under the stars, plus a couple extra because they're adorable.

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“No, thank you.”

Ava’s voice was mild, but Judy saw the way her fingers tightened on her champagne and the way her eyes narrowed. Her dress was deep navy, and seemed to be mostly made of lace, offering tantalizing glimpses of the skin underneath while at the same time, being nothing but appropriate. It was one of Ava’s own designs, and she filled it to perfection.

The man across from her was handsome, as handsome as Ava was beautiful, and dressed in a suit that was more expensive than it was probably worth. He was polished from his perfect hair to his perfect shoes. Judy already didn’t like him.

He leaned in to take Ava’s hand and she stepped back, once, deliberately. He started to glare.

Judy, trying not to wobble on spectacular gold heels or trip over her spectacular backless red dress, stormed over.

Stormed might be an exaggeration. She teetered cautiously. But she teetered with purpose.

“Sweetheart,” she said, and kissed Ava’s cheek, grateful for the non-smearing lip-stain Ava carefully applied to her lips only an hour earlier. “I found our table.”

The man stared between them, looking like nothing so much as a deer caught in the headlights.

Ava brightened like dawn at midnight and gave her a smile that made Judy’s knees go weak. The poor man was caught in the blast radius of that smile, and Judy felt sort of bad, but also moderately victorious.

The man looked dazed. That was not an unusual expression around Ava.

Her girlfriend was amazing and Judy was absolutely not sharing her.

“Excuse me,” Ava said politely, too politely, to the man, who still looked a little like he had been caught by an unexpected solar flare. “I think we have somewhere else to be.”

With that, she tool Judy’s hand, flashed her another of those sunlight smiles, and guided her not to their table, but outside into the warm tropical night. They were at dock today, in Spain, before they made the long trip across the Atlantic and into the Caribbean.

The stars were like nothing else, and the glow of Barcelona as a backdrop was nothing short of incredible.

Ava kept a firm hold on her hand the whole way, and Judy was glad, since they were definitely walking faster than she could manage without help. Ava was, of course, perfectly comfortable in her favorite, sky-high red-soled heels. They were designer, but Judy didn’t know designers and was content with how happy they made Ava.

“I love Barcelona,” Ava admitted when they stepped out into the warm air and Judy breathed a sigh of relief. The main dining room was lovely, but a little warm for her taste and crowded. “I try to steal a day here or there whenever I’m on my way to Milan for a show. There’s just something so real about it.”

“It’s my first time,” Judy told her, and seated herself at one of the outdoor tables, mindful of delicate dress and dangerous heels. “I’ve been to Paris, and to London, but never Barcelona.”

“Come with me next time,” Ava offered, suddenly shy. Small wonder, this whole trip seemed like something out of a dream. Almost like a honeymoon. “If you want, I mean. I travel so much, and if you’re really getting a divorce I thought you might not want to be home for the drama, and I have this huge penthouse-“

Judy leaned over and kissed her right on her perfect lips.

Ava went silent with a muffled squeak of delight and surprise.

“I already sent the paperwork,” Judy told her when they parted, and managed a smile even though a small part of her heart was broken over the love she and her husband, now ex-husband, once shared. That relationship had died a long time ago, though, and she was determined not to mourn it. “I got the fax this morning. He’s not contesting it.”

”I thought there would be a fight?” Ava asked, as dazed as Judy often felt just looking at her, but suddenly radiantly happy. “He isn’t the type to go without a fight.”

That, Judy was very smug about.

“I found a clause in our prenup,” she said and caught the eye of a waiter nearby. Moments later, she had another glass of champagne. “I forgot I had it added, and he laughed it off when I asked all those years ago, but it’s saving us now.”

“What is it?”

“It stipulates that, if the serving party, me, can prove beyond doubt that the reason for serving, infidelity, is true, there can be no contestation of division of property.”

Ava was smart and did more legal work than people would think regarding her designs.

“What’s mine is mine, what’s yours is yours?” she asked to be sure, and then paused. “Wait, what’s yours?”

Judy smiled, not without a little mean satisfaction. “The house my parents bought us for our wedding, and half of every business we ever started, because the startup capital came from my consulting firm.”

“You’re a shark,” Ava said admiringly and pulled Judy to her feet, guiding Judy’s arms around her waist, and wrapping her own around Judy’s shoulders. “And you’re beautiful when you’re planning to destroy someone.”

“He broke my heart the first time he cheated on me,” Judy told her, and pulled her close enough to smell her expensive tuberose perfume. She guided Ava into a slow sway to the music drifting from inside. Overhead, the stars seemed to go on forever. “It figures I met you because of him. Think we should send flowers?”

“A dozen lilies,” Ava agreed, laughing distractingly, her curls flouncing over her bare shoulders. Judy couldn’t resist kissing her again, and again because those cherry-flavored kisses were awfully addictive. Ava hummed, entirely distracted, and rested her forehead against Judy’s. “I’m really glad we met.”

“Me too,” Judy said, and kissed her once ore for good measure. “Want to go back to the suite? My butler will bring us dinner.”

“Only if we have chocolate-covered strawberries in the hot tub after,” Ava agreed with a promising smile. “Come on, gorgeous. I’ll even help you out of your dress!”

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Between Us Girls:

Sometimes a cheating husband gets more than they expect, and true love figures itself out along the way.

Surprises Abroad

The Red Dress

Mimosas at Dawn (Subscriber Only!)

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More Stories!

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Support me on Patreon

#gay #gay gay gay #lgbt #lgbtq #Pride #love #lesbians #lesbian #they're lesbians harold #sweet #adorable #romance #romantic #relationship

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centineoah-blog · 6 years

Text

I Hate Everything About You - Part 1 (Noah Centineo)

She’s the daughter of Robert Downey Jr., struggling to find her own name in the industry, while he’s the internet’s collective crush, learning how to deal with his new-found fame. What happens when they get cast together in a TV adaptation of her favourite book series?

Word Count: 2.6 K

Pairings: Noah Centineo X Reader

Warnings: None as far as I’m aware, bit of love/hate if you're not into that, bit of drinking, spray tans, paparazzi

There is just something incredibly satisfying about kicking back, putting your feet up and lying in the sun, doing nothing at all. The sound of the waves crashing, little kids squealing all around and the sultry rays of the sun beating down on you, warming you up from within – it’s summer at its absolute best. Which is why, I’m sprawled out on a deck chair on Santa Monica Beach, California, sipping a Piña Colada – I’m only seventeen but here with my very lenient mother – With a pair of shades shielding my eyes and the rest of my bikini-clad body exposed, so as to work up a tan. Hard work, I know, since I’ve been at it for nearly four hours now and there isn’t even a toasty hint on my skin to show for it. My complexion is pasty and uneven, which I have no idea how because I’ve been in California all my life. The least I should have is beautiful, evenly bronzed skin.

Ugh, I think in frustration, I should’ve just gotten one of those terrible, orange, spray tans to match the president. At least they’re easy to get.

Correction to my earlier statement, then – There is just something incredibly satisfying about kicking back, putting your feet up and lying in the sun, doing nothing at all, when you’re capable of tanning! My back is stiff and I’m sweating like a pig, as there is hardly any wind today. The humidity has resulted in my hair going beyond frizzy and I’m completely unrecognizable, so at least there is no chance of any paparazzi getting candid shots of me and making them viral with headlines like- ‘Y/N Downey shows off sexy bikini bod!’ Or something equally ridiculous.

Now, I said ‘unrecognizable’ and ‘paparazzi’ so you must be wondering what the hell that’s about. No, no, I’m not some narcissistic bitch with an absurdly high opinion of herself. Although, you aren’t that far off. Let me explain.

My name is Y/N Downey. I’m an up-and-coming actress although people hardly refer to me as that. Generally, people know me as the only daughter of Robert Downey Jr., one of America’s most successful and famous movie actors, and I’m not just saying this cause he’s my father. You might also know him as Iron Man but to me, he’s just dad.

Obviously, since my father is ‘the great Robert Downey Jr.’ everyone just naturally expects me to be a stuck-up, spoilt brat who gets everything handed to her on a silver platter. They think it’s all a piece of cake for me, that I don’t have to work for making a name for myself since my father has so conveniently made it for me.

Wrong.

To this day, my father has never pulled any strings or called in favours to get me a part. In fact, that was his one and only condition when I expressed that I wanted to take up acting as a profession. He made me promise that I’d never use his name to get my way and work hard on my own to achieve something. Luckily, and not to be too full of myself or anything, but I’m a good actor. I suppose it has something to do with being in my dad’s company, since it can’t be genes. That’s because I’m adopted, and the Downeys are the only family I have ever known.

Anyway, every single role that I have done until now, I’ve got it through legit auditions in stinky and badly lit rooms. Mr. Downey has never influenced any aspect of my career. So, you see, I’m just another teenaged girl with a big dream. Okay, that might be an exaggeration. But except for the fact that my dad is a big movie star and I live in an unreasonably large house, and have more cars than I could possibly want to drive and I’ve never been to a public school – whaddup, homeschooling! – Really, I’m just the same as your typical teenaged girl.

So that’s my story. Now let’s get back to the present day. It was all my mother’s stupid idea.

“We never spend any quality time together.” She’d cooed the night before. “How about we head to the beach tomorrow? You could sunbathe.” She’d added temptingly and like the idiot that I am, I was sold by the allure of a tan.

Hence, my discomfort now. Hell, last night I’d even thought I’d go for a nice little swim down here.

My brain wanders off on its own trail – Is this day ever going to end?! And what the heck is up with the sun? Move a bit dude, go shine your bright face in someplace they need it.

I groan in irritation.

My mother snaps her head to me. She pushes up her sunglasses to her head and glares at me.

“If you’re so annoyed, you shouldn’t have come.” She growls.

“You made me.” I mutter quietly.

“I didn’t make you do anything.”

“Of course you did. You held up tanning like a bait and you knew I’ve always wanted to –” I’m cut off by the sound of my phone ringing. I fish it out of my bag.

“Ava!” I’m met with a shrill but pleasant greeting from my agent, Joanna.

“Hey Jo!”

“So guess the best thing that could’ve possibly happened?”

That’s how Joanna Preston always talked. Whatever you wanted to find out, you guessed. I think she’s incapable of forming non-interrogative sentences. It gets annoying a lot of the times.

“Um, everything in the world is made of chocolate?” I ask, unsure.

Joanna laughs. “No. Hint – it has something to do with Colors.”

My heart stops. There’s only one reason Joanna’s calling me about Colors.

“Someone’s making a movie about it?” I breathe in disbelief.“Better.”

What’s better than a movie?

“Someone’s making two movies about it?” I question dubiously.

“Someone’s making a TV Series about it.” She states firmly. Oh, non-interrogative! Perhaps there is hope for her yet.

A little gasp escapes my lips.

The Colors trilogy is my favourite book series in the world!

“And guess who the best agent in the whole wide world is?” She’s back, ugh, never mind.

“You, obviously.” I say rolling my eyes.

“That’s right!” She exclaims. “And guess who landed the lead?”

My jaw pops open.

“Me? They just gave it to me? No auditions or screen tests?” I ask, disbelieving.

“Yeah!” She squeals.

I furrow my brows, not quite understanding where this was all going. Joanna must’ve been able to sense my apprehension because she promptly launches into an explanation.

“Apparently they loved you on Teen Wolf and they wanted a new and fresh face, so they decided you’d be perfect. I’ve managed to find out that they’ve practically finalised you but of course, they’d still like you to show up and read some lines but that’s purely formal. The part is yours!”

I did a two-episode cameo in the third season of Teen Wolf and it was received very well. More importantly, it resulted in me becoming friends with Tyler Posey. He is pure perfection.

A dumbass grin spreads over my entire face.

“Do you know who’s playing Mason yet?”

Mason is my almost-character, Ali’s love interest in the books.

“Yeah, but he’s in the same condition as you. In fact, I suppose they’ll be asking both of you to go down there together.”

“Who is it, though?” I can’t contain my excitement.

“Noah Centineo.”

I almost fall out of my deck chair.

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It’s been nearly two weeks since I found out I’m almost playing Alison in the TV Series adaptation of Colors and today, I’m going to be finalized. Or I’m hoping to be, since I’ve been called down today for my ‘audition’ and I’m absolutely thrilled and raring to just go down there and bag it. A couple of days ago, the producers contacted my agent, Joanna, and gave them the final dates for the trial. Also, just as Joanna had predicted, Noah Centineo, is being called in to audition for Mason and we’re auditioning together. I must say, that, I’m not thrilled about.

I’m not exactly sure why I get hostile at just the thought of this guy and somewhere in my head, a rational voice answers that it’s because of how much I love this character. Mason Scott is my favourite fictional character and if some douchebag with cool hair messes it up, then as a loyal fan, I have every right to have a vendetta against him. It could be that he’s the biggest actor at the moment, answers the rational voice again but I ignore it. Of course it had to be him. I am sick of seeing him everywhere, and how everyone is obsessed with him. Honestly, how is it that someone who literally just blew up overnight, lands a role as big as Mason Freaking Scott?! He must have pulled in some serious favours.

It suddenly dawns on me, then, that he would probably be thinking the same thing about Robert Downey Jr.’s daughter getting the lead – that it wasn’t my skill that got me this part. I quickly brush it off.

“Blue or beige?” I hold up two identical blouses, trying to decide which one to wear to the audition.

“Definitely the beige. Wear the brown skirt with it.” My mother comments from her spot on my bed.

My mother and I had a tiff about this role earlier, since it’s gonna have a fair bit of nudity in, but I’m happy to tell you that I was able to finally get through to her about how big this role is for my career. Everybody’s excited to see a reboot.

My dad helped as well, explaining the whole situation to my earlier apprehensive mother and now she’s supporting me whole-heartedly. Or she’s pretending to, but either way, I’m glad she’s accepted that I’m going to do this and that she’s really cool about it.

I, on the other hand, am a sack full of nerves right now. I might appear to be confident and, quoting my own self ‘raring to go’, but on the inside I’m. Freaking. Out. It’s like a dream role and I do not want to mess this up in any way. I don’t want the makers to have second thoughts about casting me; I don’t want to give them any reason to so much as even think about someone else. And obviously, that leaves zero room for error on my part. None. Nada.

So, clearly, there’s no pressure!

My head is pounding as I walk into the studio, script in hand. The audition is the part when Mason first takes Ali to his apartment and tells her about his lifestyle and what he does for a living, letting her know what she’s in for if she agrees to be with him. I know all my lines by heart and my dear friend, Tyler, and I have been through them almost a hundred times but it’s still a rather difficult scene if you consider the acting side of it because it really shows Ali’s innocence and her willingness to step into the dark with Mason.

Speaking of, where the hell is this overrated hero?! I’d really like it if I could just run through these lines with him at least once before the main audition.

I’m walking around the studio with an expression that says I own the place because people keep stepping out of my way, when, really, all I’m doing is being annoyed as I try to find my arrogant co-auditioner.

Yeah, yeah, I know it’s a bit premature calling him arrogant. Seriously though? Who on earth would just waltz in there and read their lines with an unknown person, for the first time, to audition for the role of a lifetime? An arrogant person, that’s who, because even I am willing to swallow my pride and look for this brat for a little practice.

I somehow end up walking to the kitchen, well not somehow because I could murder a coffee right now, and surprise, surprise, Mr. Centineo is sitting right there with his posse. I stop dead in my tracks as soon as our eyes meet and he stares at me for several seconds, not blinking. And then, slowly, he raises a brow as he gives me a relaxed, deliberate once-over.

And it pisses me off.

Like, I know I’m looking nice right now but seriously dude, I’m about to be your goddamned co-star! Show a little respect, for god’s sake!

To be honest though, I don’t even know why I’m so offended. Maybe it’s his gorgeous hair. I notice that there are three other guys sat next to him and I assume those are his ‘buddies’; they look the type – all dude bro-ish in their stupid hoodies and ripped, skinny jeans. Not that I have anything personal against hoodies or ripped, skinny jeans. Or dude-bros, for that matter. But I wasn’t told I could bring my friends.

Ass.

Finally regaining my ability to walk, I make a bored face as if I audition for huge shows every day, and then head straight to the counter off the side of the room, ignoring him completely. Behind me, I hear snickers and hushed voices as I’m pouring my coffee in a paper cup. I roll my eyes.

Grow up, boys.

I dump two packets of sugar and stir it vigorously. Putting on the lid, I turn around and my coffee is knocked out of my hand.

“ARGH!! The fudge!” I growl.

I’m surprised at my ability to control myself. I had a whole variety of choice expletives I could’ve used in this situation. I look up and standing in front of me is the newest bane of my existence. And he’s smirking.

I reward him with the stoniest face I can manage.

“Hey, I’m Noah.” He says and okay, I’ll admit it, his voice is So. Hot.

No! I’m furious right now, I can’t think about that. What the hell is he playing at? I need an apology.

“You spilled my coffee.” I mutter in quiet fury as I point out his first misdemeanour.

“Whoa woah, not the friendly type, are you?”

“I suppose I wouldn’t be either if my dad was Iron Man.” He adds with a snigger. My jaw pops open.

How dare he?!

Strike Two. I’m overwhelmed by how much I want to break his pretty little jaw.

“What the hell?! You have no right to say that.” I yell.

Further to my irritation, he grins – teeth and all. Perfectly straight, white teeth and all. But, anyway.

“What?” I snap.

“You’re fiery.” He remarks in amusement and the next thing I know is a sharp, stinging feeling in the palm of my hand and Centineo’s shocked expression.

Okay, so I might’ve slapped him.

Before I can react or try to apologise – not that I was going to, he clearly had three strikes, but it’s the thought that counts – I get a call from Joanna.

“Y/N, they’re calling you in now. Stage 36.”

“I’m coming.”

“If you see Noah on the way, let him know they want him too.”

“I haven’t seen him.” I bark as I hang up.

I walk around Noah Centineo in a huff and he stares after me, dumbstruck, as I walk out the door, still holding the cheek that holds proof of my assault.

Now how’s that for ‘fiery’?

Part 2

#this idea is so stupid #why did i decide to write this #noah centineo #noah centineo x reader #noah centineo fanfic #noah centineo x you #jamey sbial #sbial #peter kavinsky #peter kavinsky x reader #tatbilb #noah centineo edit #to all the boys i’ve loved before #tyler posey #teen wolf

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livvywrites · 5 years

Note

11, 20, 22 for any character!

I’m just gonna answer for all TMQ’s mains, ‘cause these are fun :D

11. What is your character’s favorite historical or fairy tale figure?

Alinora: In Eldoran history/myth? Her mother. Failing that, she’d say Hope’s Vanguard. Most specifically, Love. On earth, she’d really like Artemis, I think.

Elaena: Elaena laughs at this question because she’s literally seen history be made. If pressed, though, she will tell you that she likes Vitala, spirit of the World Tree best. On earth her favorite would probably be Hades--and yes, she’s well aware that’s cheating. XD

Lyr: The first Slaeyr. Aka his mother or his grandmother, haven’t decided yet. Failing that he’d probably say the Anari, as a whole. On earth, I think he would be drawn to King Arthur.

Ava: Ava likes the goddess Life, and Hope. As well as her grandmother/mother. On earth, she would like Persephone.

Talitha: Talitha likes the Anari as a whole. She’s also fond of her grandfather, who invented the airship and founded the College of Magus. On earth, she’d be fond of Atalanta--though she wouldn’t like the end of the tale much, with the golden apples.

Aishlynn: Aishlynn doesn’t have a favorite figure specifically. She’s enamored with warrior queens of all kind. The more independent the better. On earth I think she would adore Cleopatra.

20. How self-confident is your characters?

Alinora: Complicated. She’s very sure of her skills and abilities, and is more than willing to tell you when she’s not up to task. However, outside of that, on a personal level she doesn’t feel like she’s worth much at all.

Elaena: She’s a spirit of death. She’s very confident, both in her abilities and herself, because she has had thousands of years to learn such confidence. It wasn’t always that way, and there are days when she doubts, but mostly, she’s secure in herself and what/who she is.

Lyr: Like Alinora, Lyr is very confident in some things. His skill with a blade, for instance. His skill in magic. His skill in building things, putting them together and taking them apart. What he isn’t confident in are his leadership skills. The skills he needs to lead a country, a kingdom. There is time before he has to think of that, but it worries him all the same.

Ava: She is... hard to read. Even for me. Ava, I think, is someone who isn’t very confident until things need to be done. And then she becomes confident, because to be anything else would be to let people down. And she can’t abide by that.

Talitha: Talitha is confident. To a T. She knows what she’s good at and she knows what she isn’t, and has no problem sharing these things. She can boast and brag with the best of them, but she rarely exaggerates. Most insults roll off of her like water and she even finds the time to laugh at them. Talitha is what she is and there is little you can say to shake that foundation.

Aishlynn: Outwardly, Aishlynn is confident to the point of arrogance. As is Talitha, coincidentally. But unlike Talitha, Aishlynn is... not secure of herself at all. Nor of her place in the world. Unlike Alinora, though, Aishlynn does not believe she has no worth. She just doesn’t know what she’s worth, and that bothers her.

22. Do any of your characters have someone named after them? Or are they named after someone else?

Alinora: She is named after her mother, Elinor. (And I do picture a future in which she adopts a child, who ends up being named after her. But I’m not sure it’ll ever happen in the books.)

Elaena: Yes, to both.

Lyr: I don’t believe he was named for anyone. Nor does he have anyone named after him.

Ava: ^^^

Talitha: Named after her grandfather, though I don’t remember his name off the top of my head. I’ll have to look at my notes.

Aishlynn: She might have been named after someone. I haven’t planned too far back in their family history. There is no one named after her.

#quartzses #tmq #the martyr queen #asks and answers #alinora mynerva #elaena #lyr #ava #talitha jade #aishlynn mynerva #quartzess

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avaliveradio · 3 years

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29MCK 'Keep Talkin' encourages you to see our existence through a different lens

Baltimore Hip Hop artist, 29MCK focuses on realizing where we are as a society and human race and how we’ve ruined so much as we evolved into dirty, filthy, and disgusting people.

My new album “re-defy your existence” might not be overproduced like most of the big artists these days, but it’s not just for me or about me… it’s about us as a whole.

“I want people to open their minds to a different perspective, to see our existence through a different lens?”

Artist: 29MCK

New Release: Keep Talkin

Genre: Hip Hop

Sounds like: : Hopsin, Noreaga, Fuck Tom Macdonald

Located in: : Baltimore, MD

My life has been an actual rollercoaster and not an exaggerated one.

I use all the incredible experiences I’ve had in this crazy life to drive my inspiration, from surviving deadly illnesses to cheating death, 26 broken bones, and counting!

About 29MCK

I’m the type of person that you either like or dislike; I put it all out on the table, I’m not feeding you bullshit and filling your stomach when your hungry, I’m not pissing on you and telling you it’s raining. It’s about being authentic and not “fakereal”, but it’s also knowing who I am and not playing a facade to get your views, likes, and comments. My lyrics are what set me apart. It’s time!9

"We all think our shit don’t stink but in reality… every single one of us has a hand into what we’ve become."

Look around, open your eyes, open your mind and start seeing the bigger picture. “Keep Talkin,” in a sense, is about what I see on an everyday basis. Whether it’s on youtube, facebook, or even in public, people act a certain way to be liked and subscribed to; they want devoted “fans” to share all their fake content. It’s those artists that will go above and beyond their means just to gain some credibility, no matter who they have to convince.

I started music at a young age, learning the bass guitar and taking singing lessons. I played in bands throughout night school, went on tour with a couple of them, and I’ve made a lot of solo music as well but never pushed myself until now to create a hip-hop album.

I’m decently traveled; I’ve been in Baltimore all my life, moving a lot from the city to the country. My inspirations are what I see; I don’t feel the need to sing about me and my life in every song I write; I like projecting my lyrics toward how I view everyday society. It’s about us as a whole and not me me me me…

LINKS:

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/5gEoaDTk7YDnQdr7BEoHFK?si=OcJE8bvNQxO0mGi6N2GLxQ&dl_branch=1 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/29MCK/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/29_mck/

Reviews:

Jacqueline Jax AVA Live Radio

“I couldn’t help but smile when I heard the lyrics on this single. Well done. I like that 29MCK is coming from a real place of purpose when he writes his lyrics. “

Playlists:

🔥Release Radar New Music Playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2JOBcgSYgGmV2g27N1CUXx?si=PQFpAPUbQ0m4ByZEbtBtLg

🔥JAX DAILY Morning Coffee Playlist:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pEY8BiSj6sLLSHAoOo9k0?si=IrwIjmHVRN2vswRyw_P6gA

🔥SUMMER SINGLES Fresh Indie Music Finds https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7oQCpI2xEN2RaGWLcRGQJX?si=o93Tf3RwSH2HLg4B57qAVw

🔥Top 20 Rap Caviar https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5fHaQnVJU3ApkDRkz53dJA?si=pYb4Ip6GQGagqWSf0C0MtQ

🔥Groundbreaking Indie Hip Hop Next Generation Rap https://open.spotify.com/playlist/06gwejs45LDr3Hbw67p3Qn?si=vstyDWpkSju-OBtsU2mkRw

🔥Top 50 Indie Songwriters https://open.spotify.com/playlist/68x51bTCMLuLi4o6vqwGfh?si=0298ee78348c4673

#29MCK #Baltimore #hip hop

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panticwritten · 6 years

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60 for the drabble challenge!

Yoooooo, thanks!

60. “Are you going to listen to me?”

I accidentally changed it to “are you going to talk to me” but I don’t think there’s a way I could change the wording and not make it sound weird now. So, this one takes place in the Sequence of Regrettable Happenings universe, before anything in that universe I’ve posted on here. J would be around 17 at this point.

@asinwolves @ava-burton-writing @authorarsinoe @infinitelyblankpage @ravenpuffwriter

Word count: 1423

New Recruits

I don’t know what Damien’s playing at with this line-up. I’ve never trained anyone, and he wants to shove a trainee twice my age at me. That would go well. He doesn’t give me any sign of what he wants from me when I turn a glare on him.

I run my thumb over the hilt of my sword as I walk the line, the only sign of my nerves I’ll allow to slip to the surface. There are more than I would have expected, maybe thirty of them in all.

Some of them eye me with contempt as I walk by. About half of them look to be feigning respect, if the glazed look in their eyes is anything to go off of. Maybe four of them nod their heads as I walk by and I know my reputation has preceded me.

It really isn’t an impressive group.

A young teen stands at the end of the line, a head shorter than the woman next to him. I still have to look up to assess him and the defiant glare he wears. Scrawny. Thick brown hair pulled back in a tangled ponytail. That amber gaze tells me he wouldn’t think twice about pulling a knife on me.

He’s easily the youngest person in the bunch.

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.” The defensive edge in his voice only lifts my spirits higher.

“Hm.” I nod and step back to join Damien out of earshot.

“What do you think?” he asks, handing my a clipboard listing their names, several test scores, previous occupations, whether they’ve been rejected before, and numeric IDs.

I try to consider their aptitude scores, try to find the best out of each, try to care about what they did before finding their way here. In the end, I don’t flip away from the last page when I finish looking through it.

“Karson Laurent. Where did they pick him up?” I ask, looking up to Damien. He takes the clipboard back, studying the thin strip of information for the kid.

When he hands it back, it’s with a noncommittal sound. “He’d been through nearly twenty foster homes. You of all people know how closely we monitor those numbers.”

I don’t temper the glare I shoot him, but he just laughs. I swallow, looking away. I still need to get used to that, the fact that they don’t have to treat me like a trainee anymore.

“If you know what you want, go ahead and put your money where your mouth is.” His grin is more unsettling than the laugh. “You said you would put my rejection speech to shame.”

I narrow my eyes him, but step forward to address the line without taking his bait. They all straighten up, even the ones that weren’t taking this seriously train attentive eyes on me. There’s an instant that I don’t know what to say.

It passes. I tuck the clipboard between my arm and my side, resting my other hand on the smooth hilt of the sword at my waist.

“You should all consider this your first lesson if you intend to survive in this line of work,” I say blandly. “Many of you have impressive scores from the training center, but I don’t have time to let those numbers force me into taking on a bad attitude.”

I catch several brows furrowing in the line-up.

“None of you have the training required to deem someone a threat or an asset,” I continue, glancing at Damien standing to the side. The corner of my lip twitches at the pride I detect in his smile. “Underestimating an opponent will get you killed.”

Six smug grins break out, but quickly disappear when I pause and sweep a practiced impassive gaze along the line.

“I have a reputation that may have reached some of you.” There are a few nods, and I mirror the gesture. “Yeah. Rumors and whispers aren’t a reason to trust someone’s skill or loyalties. Blind faith will also get you killed.”

The silence in the hall almost breaks the control I have over smile threatening to spread over my face. I don’t know why I was ever nervous about this.

“Laurent,” I call, finally focusing my gaze on the young teen at the end of the line. All heads turn to assess him, and disbelief mars many of them. His hostility has vanished, leaving him staring at me in wide eyed silence.

I finally let my smile show. And look back to the group at large.

“The rest of you are dismissed.”

For a beat, no one moves. Then, as one, the others turn to stride toward the door at the far end of the room. None of them look back. They’ll have another chance with someone willing to deal with their bullshit.

I turn to catch Damien approaching before he can get more than a few yards from me. My new trainee—apprentice? That doesn’t sound right—still stands on the black line painted on the ground, but now he watches his feet instead of either me or Damien.

“A little long-winded, but not bad,” my former mentor praises when he’s close enough.

“I only said what they needed to hear.” Still, I don’t shy away when he reaches out to ruffle my hair.

“Maybe.” He looks back at Karson, who has taken a few hesitant steps toward us. The kid pauses, but continues more confidently when I beckon him over. Damien returns his gaze to me. “There’s a party later at the old outpost. You’d be the guest of honor if you came.”

I flash him a strained smile before turning to greet Karson.

“Laurent. I’m J, your mentor for the foreseeable future.” I hold out a hand, which he stares at for a beat before taking the offered handshake. He glances at Damien, and I do the same to find him still watching me.

“So, uh.” Karson falters when I look back to him. He takes a breath, and I watch his shoulders set before he starts again. “Why me?”

“You were the only one that looked like you might try to deck me,” I answer. He shifts back, brows raising in surprise. “I didn’t want to have to teach someone not to trust authority without a reason.”

“Karson,” Damien cuts in, and I jerk around to glare at him. His eyes remain trained on me. “Go gather your belongings and move them to the apprentice halls. You can finish this conversation later.”

Karson doesn’t move, and Damien doesn’t react to my gaze. I turn back to the kid and nod. “Go ahead and get settled. This shouldn’t take long.”

He hesitates, but ultimately turns and walks away.

I wait until the door closes behind him to turn on Damien. “What the hell was that about?”

“I want you to pull out of the job you’re doing for the Scouts.”

Oh.

He doesn’t give me a chance to argue before he starts again. “I know about your fight with Felix. I’ve heard about the obsessive sword training, the fights, and the things Kane has to say about your sponsor in the VFD—”

“Kane should keep his mouth shut and mind his own business.” I wince internally at how cold that came out, even more so at how Damien bristles.

“You know how much he cares about you.” He mimics my tone. “And if you’re getting this defensive, I’ll assume he’s not exaggerating things.”

“I’m doing my job.”

“We both know this stopped being about your job a long time ago.” He takes a step forward and his gaze turns hard when my hand goes to my sword. “What’s going on in that house that’s keeping you from leaving?”

My jaw clenches, and I don’t answer. I can’t.

“Are you being blackmailed?”

I don’t answer.

“Are you following a lead?”

I don’t answer.

“Are you going to talk to me? At all?”

“I’ll talk to you when we aren’t talking about this,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Goddamn it, Jess!” I see the regret the instant the name leaves his mouth, and I can’t suppress my flinch. He takes a step back, a breath, and his voice is calmer. “We all worry about you, probably more than the district heads would approve of. I’m not the only one that doesn’t want to see you get hurt.”

I steel myself and turn away.

“Stop worrying. That’s not your responsibility anymore,” I say, striding for the door.

He doesn’t try to stop me.

#writing #my writing #ask games #j #damien #k #sorh #the collective

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akahana21 · 3 years

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A Comparison of Show Boat (1936) and Show Boat (1951) [a critique]

Before you read the post, I’m warning you that I’m not a critique so this is how an amateur creates a movie critique. Still, I hope I helped. (there’s a TLDR version at the end)

A Comparison of Show Boat (1936) and Show Boat (1951)

Racial prejudice and other issues are prevalent in Show Boat from 1936 and Show Boat from 1951. Show Boat is a musical that shows people's diverse lives who worked or has/had affiliations with the Cotton Blossom, a showboat that roams around the Mississippi River. Everywhere they go, be it in Chicago, their life story is narrated through a musical. It was first performed in 1927 for Broadway and the entire musical was based on the novel with the same name, Show Boat, by Edna Ferber. If I were to rate these musical films in MTRCB guidelines or classification, this will be classified as "PG" wherein parental guidance is suggested since there might be some scenes unsuitable for all audiences. Show Boat is a drama, romance, and comedy rolled into one family film in terms of its genre.

The plot of the 1936 version of Show Boat is more accurate than the somewhat revised version from 1951. Scenes are lacking in the 1951 version compared to the 1936 version and there can be scenes lacking in the 1936 version because the 1951 version is revised and altered in some way. As expected, the 1951 version ended very differently than 1936 one, only that the musical numbers of every character are extended that makes this version of the film more entertaining, giving off comedic episodes. And since the musical is set in different timelines (the late 1880s, 1890s, 1900s, and 1920s), the 1951 version has failed to execute that in the film, and which the 1936 version has achieved. Plot-wise, the 1936 version is better. If musicality-wise, the 1951 version is better since the musical numbers are more festive.

In the 1936 version of Show Boat, I find that there are a few characters who have no personality or do not radiate liveliness when in fact, it should be observed because the film is comedy. Take Gaylord Ravenal’s (Allan Jones) character. He is indeed an exceptional performer, but in this version, he does not have a personality, very different from Magnolia Hawks (Irene Dunne) in this same version. But, no one would be suitable for Magnolia (Irene Dunne) other than him. Probably because he was not shown for several minutes and the storyline was focused on Magnolia (Irene Dunne) herself, Captain Andy Hawks (Charles Winninger), and others. It felt as if Gaylord (Allan Jones) is not given justice as a love interest to the daughter of the showboat captain. I commend Joe’s (Paul Robeson) character in this 1936 version of the musical, despite that he only has a few scenes, I see his personality, especially in his rendition of Ol’ Man River. Among my favorites are Julie La Verne (Helen Morgan), Captain Andy Hawks (Charles Winninger), and Queenie (Hattie McDaniel). Steve Baker (Donald Cook), Julie’s (Helen Morgan) spouse, is rather a concerned husband for his troubled wife, and how I liked Julie’s (Helen Morgan) singing along with Queenie (Hattie McDaniel) and Joe (Paul Robeson)—their voices are blending and transitioning nicely. Parthy (Helen Westley), a wife to Captain Andy Hawks (Charles Winninger), and a mother to Magnolia (Irene Dunne), is an almost-perfect character for her role. Her authoritarian aura is perfect and at the same time, she is a comedic relief in other scenes in the film but not as perfect as Captain Andy Hawks (Charles Winninger). I view him as a loving father, although he can be goofy at times but he is a real loving father. Meanwhile, Queenie’s (Hattie McDaniel) character is also a comedic relief, one of the characters bringing life to the film and an incredibly suitable match to Joe (Paul Robeson). Pete (Arthur Hohl) on the other hand, does not seem to be a boat engineer like what his character is, but he carried out his character very well as someone who bothers Julie (Helen Morgan), I thought he is Joe’s co-worker who is up to no good. The couple Frank Schultz (Sammy White) and Ellie Schultz (Queenie Smith) are quite effective comedians and performers on-stage and humble off-stage, most especially when they willingly help Magnolia (Irene Dunne) find work. As for the child Kim (Marilyn Knowlden), she did good, as well as the teenage Kim (Sunnie O’Dea) whose expressions are on-point in her short segment in the film.

In the 1951 version, I liked Gaylord Ravenal’s (Howard Keel) character. He has personality here (because he is shown countless times in the film) but unlike the 1936 Gaylord (Allan Jones) and Magnolia (Irene Dunne), this version of Gaylord Ravenal (Howard Keel) does not match with this version’s Magnolia Hawks (Kathryn Grayson). I cannot blame that Gaylord’s (Howard Keel) performance went ridiculously exaggerated that the original essence of Gaylord Ravenal is lost. The good thing is that Gaylord’s (Howard Keel) musical performance with Magnolia (Kathryn Grayson) is phenomenal, his baritone voice smoothly complements with Magnolia’s (Kathryn Grayson) soprano voice, they just do not have the chemistry as a couple in the film. Magnolia (Kathryn Grayson) is okay, she has the same omen with the 1936 version of Magnolia (Irene Dunne), both portraying a naïve character and in love. Now, the 1951 version of Captain Andy Hawks (Joe E. Brown) is one of the best portrayals I have ever encountered, the same with the 1936 version of Andy Hawks (Charles Winninger) but much better in goofiness. He could make you laugh, and in a matter of minutes, you are now sobbing. That is how convincing he is. This 1951 version of Andy Hawks (Joe E. Brown) is a ray of sunshine that does not make the entire 1951 film literally awful. As for Julie La Verne (Ava Gardner), she has the potential to make her character the Julie La Verne she is. Too bad that her character is changed throughout the film, and I am disappointed how her singing voice was dubbed by another. Her voice suited singing those parts. Furthermore, Julie’s (Ava Gardner) husband, Steve Baker (Robert Sterling), is all right. His character is perhaps adjusted, he became an abusive husband to Julie (Ava Gardner) while in the original plotline of Show Boat, he just left his wife (and she became an alcoholic). Parthy (Agnes Moorehead) is a strict mother and a comedian, but she does not give off a domineering vibe, much different than the 1936 version of Pathy (Helen Westley). I have nothing much to say about Pete (Lief Erickson), he is alike with Pete (Arthur Hohl) in the 1936 version of the film. However, I would regard the 1951 version of Pete as a boat engineer. Again, I applaud Joe’s (William Warfield) rendition of Ol’ Man River, the same with the 1936 Joe (Paul Robeson). His character is of greater importance in the film. Without the 1951 Captain Andy Hawks (Joe E. Brown) and Joe (William Warfield), the film would be incomplete. And as far as I can remember, I never saw Queenie in this film, even a glimpse of her. Unfortunately, I believe there is no cast assigned for Queenie in this 1951 version of Show Boat, I was expecting to see this version of her. They also omitted Rubber Face here. Also, I admire the fact that they have cast a real-life couple for the comedian couple Ellie Schultz (Marge Champion) and Frank Schultz (Gower Champion), no wonder they have the chemistry. This couple is funny, and I loved Ellie’s dancing. Finally, Kim Ravenal (Sheila Clark [uncredited]) did her role as Magnolia’s (Kathryn Grayson) daughter great, she seems to be enjoying portraying the character which makes her pleasing to watch.

The set design for the 1936 version of Show Boat is barely accurate for the period. Why is Julie holding Magnolia’s smiling closed-up portrait? It was the 1890s, they are supposed to have photographs taken by an ambrotype or a daguerreotype. The photograph quality is utterly impossible to create using a daguerreotype, let alone a handheld camera existing in the Victorian era. It would be acceptable if the year it is shown in the film is in the 1920s or the current year the film was released. For the 1951 version of Show Boat, I never noticed if the set design is suited for the time era the film is set in. But I am not sure about the elevator scene. I believe that is also in the Victorian era. Manual elevators in that era were popular and widespread, those manual elevators where you have to close yourself the elevator doors and such. And in that era wherein Magnolia and Gaylord are already together, the elevator with automatic doors or push-button doors was considered advanced or high-tech since it was recently introduced. Knowing that they settled in a famous Chicago quarter for the rich, I think that the elevator scene will be acceptable. The 1936 film is in black and white whereas the 1951 film is in Technicolor. Both version’s set designs are so-so. I find that the camera zoom-in for every character's dialogue is too much, few zoom-ins are enough. Visual-wise, the 1951 film is better because it is in Technicolor.

For the costumes, the 1936 version showed some scenes where the characters (including the extras) are wearing inaccurate costumes for a certain time era. Understandably, the costume designers in the 1930s are not that capable of creating accurate costumes because it takes a lot of effort and time researching and making every costume as authentic-looking as possible. In the 1951 version, the accuracy of the costumes has developed somehow. Colors are vibrant enough and the patterns unique to be recognized for the showboat actors because they are actors, and not vibrant and dull colors for the non-actors (and actors as well) with normal patterns, to be used for everyday life. If I am not mistaken, there are a few costumes with distinct designs and cuts that were trendy in the 1950s, and there are several in the 1936 version with the 1930s cuts or patterns for clothing.

To compare the sound quality of the 1951 version of Show Boat and the 1936 version, the older version is the least better. Recorders in the 1930s are not as advanced as the 1950s ones, 15 years later. The sound for the 1930s is a bit unstable, difficult to make sense of or grasp than the 1951 version (unless you are a native speaker or using closed captions or a person from that time era) despite having those both versions’ actors use a Transatlantic accent or also known as Mid-Atlantic accent.

Using the Theories of Performance to compare the 1936 version of Show Boat and the 1951 version of Show Boat, if I were to tell which one I liked the best, I would say that I liked both of them. Both of them should have been a very compelling story presenting timely issues such as racism or racial prejudice, mixed marriages regarded as illegal, forgiveness, and others but only the 1936 version has successfully integrated those into the film. Both versions have their special qualities, a handful of scenes are a tearjerker. Some scenes can be lacking in the 1951 version, but there are also scenes lacking in the 1936 one. The 1951 plot as the film ends differs from the 1936 plot that remained loyal to the storyline of Show Boat. Both films are funny and the dramatic scenes made me want to weep with the actors together. Great choice of casts to both versions, only that the two films are apparently rushed albeit their duration is almost 2 hours long and the storyline and some dialogues are revised for the 1951 version. I would not recommend the 1951 version of this film if you are a Broadway Show Boat fan because you might find it bland. Plot-wise, the 1936 Show Boat is highly recommended to watch first, and the 1951 Show Boat if you are seeking musicality-wise.

----------

TLDR

1951 version - more like a musical ; 1936 version - more like a film

1951 - Technicolor ; 1936 - black & white

1951 - storyline has changes ; 1936 - loyal to its plot

1951 - feels like a comedy ; 1936 - a little comedy with drama

1951 - audio quality better, actors can be easily heard / understood ; 1936 - audio quality is a bit “glitchy”

1951 - some original characters omitted ; 1936 - somehow kept the characters complete

1951 - lacking scenes but added additional scenes not in the original plot ; 1936 - also lacking scenes but many scenes are in the original plot

1951 - no teenage Kim ; 1936 - has teenage Kim

1951 - costumes, set, & props a little accurate ; 1936 - costumes, set, & props not that accurate

#show boat #musical #musical film #critique #comparison

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boond908 · 4 years

Text

Instagram Not Working? Here Are 7 Fixes to Try

In a world, where it becomes difficult to survive an hour without scrolling through your Instagram feed, how will humankind withstand if Instagram goes down? Too much exaggeration right? But, we understand how frustrating it gets when any application that we use regularly starts acting up. So, to make sure you are fully updated with what’s going around, here are some common fixes to try when your Instagram is throwing tantrums to you! It is always a good idea to restart your device before trying out any other fix.

Clear App Data And Cache (iOS/Android)

To clear Instagram’s cache and data on Android, or on iPhone, you need to delete and reinstall the app. Also, there is an “Offload” function that allows you to keep your Instagram data on the phone even when you delete the app. By doing so, all your data will be restored when you reinstall Instagram.

How to “Offload” Instagram From Your iPhone:

Navigate to Settings, open General followed by iPhone Storage.

Scroll down to find the Instagram app

Once found, tap on it, then select “Offload App.”

Now, go to the App Store, find Instagram, and initiate the installation procedure.

How to “Offload” Instagram From Your Android:

Open Settings, then select Apps.

Tap Instagram, then select Storage to access the “Clear data” and “Clear Cache” settings.

Hit Clear cache, then go through the same process again. This time, tap Clear data instead.

Enable Permissions for Instagram (iOS/Android)

Instagram requires permission from many other applications, including Camera, Contacts, Microphone, Photos, and Storage, to name a few. You will have to grant access to all these applications. In case you don’t permit access to even one or two of these, Instagram may not work properly.

On Android, you can check if all the required permissions are enabled by navigating to Settings, then Apps & notifications followed by Instagram, and then Permissions. On the page that appears, tap on the entries in the “Denied” list to allow them.

On iOS, navigate to the Settings app followed by Instagram. Here, ensure that all the applicable permissions are granted.

Is Instagram Down?

If you are getting the error “5xx,” then most probably Instagram is down. And if this is the case, then there is nothing much you can do except wait for it to get fixed. You can also use third-party applications such as Down Detector or Outage Report to check if Instagram is down or not. Once you enter the URL in the status checker app, it will let you know if Instagram’s server is down with messages like “Possible problems at Instagram” or “Problems at Instagram.” You can also check Instagram’s Twitter handle for any company posts and updates.

Try a Different Device

If the problem is not with Instagram or your Internet connection, then your device might be the culprit. To check this, consider using Instagram on a different device. If you can view your Instagram feed or load photos and videos on another device, then you have your convict.

Update Instagram

If none of the aforementioned fixes worked for you, then maybe, you haven’t updated Instagram to the latest version. The bug you are trying to get rid of may have been fixed in the new version. Here is how to update the app:

Navigate to the Google Play Store on your mobile device and tap the hamburger menu at the upper left of the screen.

From the list that appears, select My apps and games to check if there is any update option next to Instagram.

Once you have updated Instagram, try running it again.

Uninstall And Reinstall Instagram

If it is a bug that is causing the problem, then consider uninstalling and reinstalling the Instagram app. Here is how to do this:

Navigate to Settings to select Apps & Notifications.

Now, tap on Instagram

Hit Uninstall and then reinstall the latest version of Instagram. Log into your account again to see if it works.

Check Common Error Messages And Known Issues

Just like Instagram, many other applications have a set of common error messages and known issues that have already been addressed. So, note down the error you are facing and search on Google to find out whether it has already been solved.

Still no luck? You can report the issue to Instagram from within the app. Write a detailed report about the issue you are facing, the device you are using, and what you were doing before when it stopped working. Instagram itself will investigate the issue to make sure that it is solved for you.

Ava Williams is an avid technical blogger, a magazine contributor, a publisher of guides at mcafee.com/activate, and a professional cyber security analyst. Through her writing, she aims to educate people about the dangers and threats lurking in the digital world.

Source - Instagram Not Working? Here Are 7 Fixes to Try

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charmingturkeysandwich · 7 years

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COMPLETE! Knock, Knock Ch. 27/27

The epilogue is here! I’ve loved writing this story more than I can even explain and I hope that you all enjoy where it’s ended up. It makes me inordinately happy and I hope you can feel at least a little of that. Let me know what you think? Maybe?

Thank you for reading!

Read on AO3.

Start from the beginning on tumblr.

So many things get easier the older you get, the more life experience you have.

Moving is not one of those things.

Despite having more money, more help, more space, and more time… moving still fucking sucked.

In fact, if it weren’t for the bitter memories of filling up the last house from scratch, Emma would just burn all this shit and start over. But that was an overreaction. She was just stressed. Moving did that to you.

And kids did that to you, too.

The business had been great. In the last year, she and Killian had invested in another whole ship and small crew. They’d been on the water nearly every good-weather day with some kind of touring group, and spent the entire off-season taking classes and attending conventions and getting all kinds of educational certificates and accolades.

Schools from towns a hundred miles away were booking trips with them. The summer camps had waiting lists a mile long. And finally – finally – Emma had been able to work out a grant deal that allowed the kids who couldn’t afford the camp to actually attend.

To say she’d been riding a high for the last 365 days would sound like an overstatement, but it still felt deeply true.

She and Killian still had their share of problems. Killian nearly kicked her out of the house a few times (exaggeration) over her inability to put her clothes back in their closet and Emma had a few mild meltdowns over Killian not closing the shower curtain when he left the bathroom (do you want mold, Killian?!), but they were happy. Their life was successful, joyful, beautiful, and now – growing.

“How did we decide to transport the mugs, love?” Killian called from the kitchen, his Captain Hook mug in one hand and Emma’s Princess one in the other.

“Shit ton of bubble wrap, I guess?” she called back, still trying to pack away all of their photo frames without breaking anything.

She’d known when they moved into this house it was going to be a “starter home,” a place they rented until they were able to truly put down roots. She just hadn’t anticipated those roots sprouting so damn fast. But here they were, ready to upgrade from 2 bedrooms to 3, from tiny yard to acreage, from couple to family.

It all started back in spring, their grant funding having come through and Emma celebrating by visiting the local group home that would benefit from it. It was tough seeing that many kids without homes, without support, but their enthusiasm for the coming summer was tangible. They were so excited about the freedom of the open water that they were actually interested in learningand so Emma sat down with them and started sharing some of the things they’d be covering – from the history of New England to the creatures of the ocean to how fishermen bring us home our dinner. All the kids were captivated and gathered around Emma, but two of them stood out the most for her.

Hovering near the back of the crowd and huddled together like they were riding out a storm were two young girls, enthralled in Emma’s words but seemingly afraid to come any closer.

Emma knew all too well what that felt like – without the benefit of someone to cling to.

Afterward she’d asked the director of the group home about the two of them. Ava and Anastasia had been in the group home for a few months now, their last foster home having returned them for being “too needy” and “a burden on the household.” They wouldn’t leave each other, the man explained, not after having gotten separated from their parents just before they were murdered by some kind of drug lord.

Their parents hadn’t been perfect, obviously messed up with some troubled and dangerous people, but they’d been loving parents, dedicated to giving their girls a good life, one better than they’d had. Emma could respect that desire (while simultaneously wanting to punch them for having put their children in this situation). Ava and Ana didn’t have any other family, their parents having been an orphan and a runaway themselves, and so the girls just drifted through life, seemingly unwanted.

Emma couldn’t have it.

So she went home that afternoon and told Killian about them, determined to find them someone who could help.

“We could contact CASA? With a Court Appointed Special Advocate, they’re far more likely to get adopted,” Emma offered, her fingers busily tapping away on her phone.

“Or we could do the obvious,” Killian said after a long pause.

“The obvious?” Emma had echoed, clearly needing some further cues as to what was apparently right in front of her.

“We could foster them.”

And so the next day they’d applied to be foster parents. When they indicated they were interested in fostering the girls, they began doing weekly visits with them, allowing them to gauge if it would be a good fit.

At first they were beyond shy. They hardly spoke and when they did they seemed to be afraid that what they said had been the wrong thing. Or something. But Killian and Emma just kept coming, kept telling them stories of their times on the ship, of their painful pasts, of the things they liked to do for fun on the weekends when they weren’t sailing. Bit by bit the girls started sharing more of themselves. At first everything was framed as “we.” No matter which of them spoke – usually Ava, though – it was always a collective answer. We love dogs. We have a red wooden sled. We’ve never had homemade pizza. But gradually they began to cling to one another less, to speak about something they liked individually.

Ava, it seemed, was just a little bit more like Emma. She was very physical – loved sports and adventure. Anastasia, on the other hand, was very analytical. She was good with numbers and liked to make plans. A lot like Killian.

Every week’s visit proved more and more that they could do this. They could be foster parents to these 8 and 10 year old girls.

And so, just as summer was beginning, the girls gathered their black trash bags full of what belongings they’d kept and they stood outside the group home waiting for Killian and Emma. When they arrived, Emma promptly opened the trunk of the car and pulled two different sets of luggage – purple for Ava and pink for Anastasia – and insisted they transfer their things, leaving behind that black garbage bag forever.

“But Emma, I might need it again,” Anastasia mumbled, hesitating to pick up her new luggage.

“Sweetheart, this is yours now. No matter where you go, you’ll take this with you. The things you own are yours and they’re absolutely not trash. Your stuff matters and you matter.

Ana was quiet, playing with the blue drawstrings on the garbage bag and scraping her feet against the sidewalk. “I don’t want to have to go anywhere again,” she finally said.

“And we’re hoping you won’t have to,” Killian added from behind her, his arms full of Ava’s things as she packed them into her new suitcase.

It was certainly an adjustment having two more people in the house. Dinners were a total fiasco, some days, Killian still trying to figure out portions and who liked what. Emma decided they should invest in a dishwasher, a convenience they didn’t think they should splurge on when it was just the two of them. But now the dishes would pile up like crazy and it just wasn’t worth all the effort to hand wash several days’ worth at a time. So they caved.

They bought a lot of things that summer. A swing set for their small back yard. The cutest bunkbed set you’d ever seen (yes, it was shaped like a ship and yes, they were that cliché).

Ava and Ana loved their room, decorating it in every color you could imagine with pictures of animals and boats and pop singers all over. They were still fairly shy and at times uncertain of their place in the home, but they continued to open up every day they spent in the Swan/Jones household.

Their friends had all been so supportive. Robin and Regina often came over to visit, bringing pizza and video games with them. Belle would, predictably, bring them books, but she also offered to take them for rides in her police car (at first, that had upset them – the last time they’d seen police vehicles was their parents’ death. But Belle was determined to show them the good side of it all, and it seemed she’d won them over). Even Will enjoyed their company, his own humor leaning toward the immature side giving him a little boost in conversation. And Ruby – she would Skype them and talk about Seattle and beg them all to come and visit (you know, after Killian and Emma were removed from the no-fly list).

No one was happier than Mary Margaret and David. Constantly exhausted with their infant, they loved spending time with kids who actually spoke and the two of them would “babysit” often when both Killian and Emma were needed on their ships.

Mostly they’d started taking turns leading the groups, insistent that the girls be with them as often as possible. So much so that the girls actually participated in every single age-appropriate excursion they offered. At first they’d been part of the learning groups, completing the activities with the “class,” but eventually they graduated to being Killian and Emma’s little helpers, aiding the other students as they learned.

It had been simply amazing to watch them blossom like that, all in the span of a few months.

“Can you believe this is our life now?” Emma had whispered one night, tucked away in their bed in the wee hours of the morning.

“Aye, I can. I think it’s what I’ve always wanted, love. If you can believe that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They asked the girls if they could adopt them on a Sunday. Killian had made sure his ship wasn’t booked for anything that day, and they’d gone sailing on a purely non-work adventure, Emma and him showing Ava how to steer and Anastasia how to tie knots. Once they’d found a good, calm spot of open ocean, Killian had dropped anchor and sat the girls down, Emma nervously clinging to his arm.

“We were wondering…” Killian began, looking back and forth between the now even-more-nervous-than-Emma children.

“We want to adopt you!” Emma shouted, unable to allow that fearful look in her girls’ eyes any longer.

(She knew the feeling of waiting for someone to tell you they were sending you back. Doing it nicely or not – it didn’t really matter to a lost girl. It hurt all the same. And bracing for it was a pain all its own.)

“Yes!” Ava screamed, jumping up and into Emma’s arms. The two of them were giggling and hugging and purely ecstatic – until they realized that Anastasia hadn’t said a word.

“Ana, sweetheart, is that OK? Do you want us to be your home?” Killian asked, kneeling in front of the still-shocked, scared kid.

“But… are you sure? What if you leave us?”

“They’re not leaving, Ana! Stop being such a baby,” Ava snapped.

“Mom and dad weren’t going to leave us either!” Anastasia returned, her face flushed and her arms shaking.

It wasn’t like them to fight and it had nearly broken Emma to watch, but emotions came out in odd ways. It had to play out as it would.

“They never promised that, you know. But Emma and Killian promised. And they don’t break promises. Right?” Ava looked to Killian, her eyes boring into his.

“Never.”

Damn, what a difference a couple years could make.

Paperwork.

Paperwork was the fucking worst.

Killian’s hand was cramped from all the forms, the signing, the checklists, the mortgages and loans and adoption papers and marriage licenses.

Yep, marriage licenses. You’d think a committed couple who owned a successful business together could adopt a couple of kids with no trouble, but, you know, you’d be wrong. They wanted proof of all kinds of things, including “stability.” Which apparently meant married.

So he’d been robbed of the grand proposal he’d always envisioned, settling instead for an exasperated, “well I guess we’ll get married then,” in the uncomfortable chairs at the lawyer’s office.

“How romantic,” Emma had grumbled, making Killian feel even worse about himself than he already did. But, in the end, they knew it didn’t matter. They were going to be together always, were already partners and were now going to be a team – them and their girls (and hopefully a dog, once they moved into the bigger house).

They decided on a courthouse wedding, planning it for three days later (they had to get the blasted paperwork in order). Telling their friends hadn’t been a fun task – the men’s horror at a lack of bachelor party quite comical – but they were supportive in the end (of course).

So supportive, in fact, that they all showed up. To the least impressive wedding in all of time and space.

And he meant all of them showed up. When Emma and Killian and Ava and Anastasia opened the courthouse doors and started walking down the marble hallway, they were greeted by Mary Margaret, David, baby Leo, Regina, Belle, Will, Robin, Ruby, and Whale – all leaned against the wall as there simply wasn’t enough seating in such a small space.

The magistrate led them to a tiny room, certainly not suited for 14 people, and proceeded to marry the leather-clad couple in a 5-minute ceremony that culminated in a quick kiss on the lips and a giant family group hug that the magistrate remarked was the oddest thing he’d yet seen at one of these proceedings.

(Odd was kind of their thing, Killian had thought.)

Rings exchanged and house bought, the big old friends-turned-family began the grueling process of lugging all of their shit from one place to the next, Emma and Killian finally finding their permanent home (you know, the literal, physical kind. Metaphorically they’d obviously found that long ago in one another – and now in Anastasia and Ava).

Emma had been cranky as all hell. Moving was awful, he, of course, agreed, but Emma was simply not having it.

“Emma, where do you think we should put the linens?”

“Ugh, I don’t care!” She’d snapped in return, slumping against the bookshelf she was currently emptying.

“Come on, Em! I know it’s awful, but we’re going to have a yard!” Ava called, proudly dragging around her suitcase, despite the fact they wouldn’t be leaving officially until the next day.

“And a dog! Don’t forget the dog,” Anastasia added, her nose still firmly planted in the latest Hardy Boys book Belle had brought over.

“Of course,” Emma had chuckled, reaching out for Ava and pulling her into a bear hug. “Can’t forget that.”

The next morning was an absolute mess. Really, he’d assumed that more help meant fewer problems, but it was seeming that the opposite was true. Too many people had too many different organizational strategies and opinions and attitudes and complaints and was it actually possible to hate your own belongings this much?

But they’d survived it. All their crap made it to the new house – the anchor-clad pillows and afghans only having fallen in a smallmud puddle on the way – and the family was what you would call pooped.

“Can we clear off the couch and watch a movie, Killy?” Killian grinned at Ava’s new nickname for him, but his face fell when he realized he couldn’t actually tell her yes.

“I’ve no clue where the DVD player is, love. And we don’t have wi-fi yet, so no Netflix.”

“I could read us a book!” Ana offered, Ava groaning (comically).

“Or Killy could tell us a story,” Emma said, her eyes alight with warmth and glee, despite her exhaustion. She leaned into him and he gave her a tight squeeze, reveling in their new life.

“Once upon a time there lived a pirate who worked on Wall Street,” he began, his girls all working together to clear off the couch for them to pile onto it.

“What’s Wall Street?” Anastasia interjected, tossing a box of Emma’s old files into the corner.

“Oh, a terrible place full of greedy people.”

“Killian, don’t vilify finance for them already. Anastasia might turn out to be a hell of a broker someday.”

“Swan, language,” Killian gasped, earning chuckles from his girls.

The four of them plopped onto the couch, Anastasia curling into Emma and Ava sitting directly on Killian lap, Emma intertwining her fingers with Killian’s as he continued his story. “The pirate had all the treasure in the world, but then he lost a great love, and he thought his life was going to be empty forever.”

“But it’s not, right?” Ana nervously interjected (always the interrupter, his little girl).

“Don’t worry, my love, this story has the happiest of happy endings.”

When the story was finished and the yawning had overtaken the talking, Killian and Emma led the girls to their very own bedrooms. Not much was set up in each, of course, but their beds were made and for the first time in their lives, these girls had their own spaces.

Killian and Emma had provided that for them and the swell of pride and love in his heart at that thought was something he’d never felt before. When he’d fallen in love with his feisty, beautiful, headstrong neighbor, he’d thought his heart could never have been fuller – not after she’d confessed she loved him, too. But now – now it’s like his insides had gotten bigger to make room for more feelings he’d never dreamed he’d have.

It took longer than he hoped for them to simply find the pajama boxes and set up the toiletries, but within the hour, the girls were all ready for bed, Emma and Killian each taking turns tucking them in.

“But I’ve never slept alone,” Ava whispered, clutching a pillow. “Ana’s always been with me. I could always call her name and she’d answer me and I’d know we were going to be OK.”

“Oh, my little love. She’s not far,” Killian soothed, a perfect remedy popping into mind.

How appropriate this should come full circle, he thought.

“You know, Emma and I used to live apart. And we didn’t like being alone either.”

“I know. You were neighbors, though, so you weren’t far away.”

“Exactly. And now so are you and your sister. She’s just through this wall, you know,” Killian said, his hand resting on the wall behind Ava’s head. “And she’s probably feeling scared and sad just like you. So you can reach back just like this and give the wall a little knock, knock, letting Ana know you’re here.”

“Like this, Killy?” Ava balled her fist and hesitantly tapped her knuckles against the wall.

He couldn’t hear any conversation or movement from the other side – their house had properly insulated walls and all – but the return knock, knock came quickly.

“See? Ana’s OK, over there with Emma. And you’re OK. We’re all together now and always will be.”

“We’re a little pirate family?” Ava questioned, the hope in her eyes making his heart swell just that much more.

“Aye, love. A perfect little pirate family.”

Thank you for reading <3

#cs ff #cs au #cs au ff #cs fanfiction #keisha writes #knock knock

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lesbrarians · 7 years

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Junkrat/Roadhog:: Voyages Ch 1

Buckle up, guys and gals and nonbinary pals, because I’m finally following up Origins with a sequel. If you haven’t read Origins, I really really recommend that you do -- this first chapter is kind of a prologue with some refresher details, setting us up for the bulk of this story, but there is defs the occasional reference that kind of requires an understanding of the first fic to fully get it. I know it’s a bit of a slow start, but I hope you’ll stick with it, and thank you so much for reading! (This can also be read on AO3 but I guess Tumblr hides posts if you put links in them so??)

Title: Voyages

Characters: Junkrat, Roadhog

Rating: R

Summary: After a rocky start and some ups and downs, Junkrat and Roadhog are officially partners, even if things haven’t progressed quite as far as Junkrat would like. With his treasure at the heart of their grandiose plans, they take their adventures overseas and leave their mark on the world, for better or worse. (Mostly for worse. They’re criminals.) Sequel to “Origins.”

---

Junkrat had been the one to suggest that they go international. After the Hyde Global incident, he was more than happy to bid Australia adieu and travel overseas. His flitting notion of going legit had evaporated entirely at the suit’s betrayal, and he wanted to go back to what he did best: good, honest, straightforward crime.

“Gotta say, I’m a bit disappointed that we didn’t end up scrapping any bots after all,” Junkrat said that night, once they’d fled the city and set up camp in an abandoned warehouse further down the coast. “Drones ain’t the same.” He toyed with his RIP-tire, running his finger around its rim. After learning of Junkrat’s treasure, Roadhog had done his best to dissuade him from storing it inside his tire once more, but he had been unable to provide him with a more secure storage space that Junkrat approved of. Back in the tire it went. “Listen, ‘Hog, I’ve been thinkin’...” He dropped his hand and shifted to sit on the tire instead.

Roadhog snorted and put the cap back on his canteen. “There’s a surprise.”

Junkrat kicked at him, his boot striking empty air. “I’ve been thinkin’,” he repeated, raising his voice in exaggeration, “that maybe it’s time to test out my little treasure I got here.” He patted the tire and raised his brows at Roadhog, as if to say how ‘bout it?

“To unleash the god program,” Roadhog clarified.

“That’s the ticket!” Junkrat grinned at him. “Imagine...” He gazed dreamily up at the ceiling of the warehouse. “Takin’ over the omnics. I could make them walk right into my traps, blow themselves up! How lovely.” He sighed, a noise of utter contentment.

Roadhog chuckled. “I’m in. Where?”

Junkrat craned his neck to look at him. “Where what?”

“Anubis took over Cairo. Probably would have spread through all of Egypt if it weren't for Helix.”

“So, where do I want to be god?” He considered it. “Somewhere with lots of bots, yeah? Maybe not here, you and yer mates thinned us out with the whole omnium explosion thing. 'Course, still too many of the bastards for my liking, but at least it's not like Numbani. Place’s crawlin’ with the tinheads.” He paused. “Say, that wouldn't be a bad spot! Sure, it'd be ambitious, but y’know me, I like to dream big.”

“No job too big…”

“...No score too small!” It had become their mantra as of late, and Junkrat jumped at the opportunity to finish Roadhog's sentence every time. He relished the verbal affirmation of their partnership. “But hey, why stop there? We could hit up Tokyo, London--” He interrupted his current train of thought with a gasp. “Korea! Can you imagine takin’ down that huge fucker in their ocean?”

“We'd be heroes.”

They both burst into raucous laughter at the thought of anyone considering them heroes. Junkrat wiped a tear from his eye. “But seriously, mate. We oughta go international. I'm sick of this place. I wanna travel!”

So they traveled. Matters were complicated by the fact that they couldn't go on holiday like normal people. It wasn't like two highly notorious criminals could just saunter onto a plane, particularly two who looked as distinctive as they did.

They resorted to convoluted schemes in an attempt to evade the law, aided and abetted by their ethically dubious associates. With a raid of a scuba diving facility near Sydney and Rosa’s assistance, they were able to engineer a rebreather for Junkrat and an apparatus for Roadhog’s gas mask that served as a carbon dioxide scrubber. Having a computer scientist on their side proved invaluable, as she helped with the electronic bits of the rebreather.

“You sure this is gonna work?” Ava asked, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

“You’ve done crazier things,” Junkrat pointed out. He climbed into the motorcycle’s sidecar, feet propped up and head lolling back. “Sliced open me head in yer kitchen--”

“--blew up the omnium--” Roadhog added.

“--busted us outta prison. What’re ya worried for?”

Ava dropped her hand and laughed. “Got me there! Yeah, you’ll be fine.” She pulled Junkrat out of the sidecar so she could slap the two of them on the back good-naturedly.

Rosa kissed them both on the cheek. “Be safe, all right?”

Junkrat grinned. “Can’t promise nothin’!”

“We’ll try,” Roadhog assured her. Junkrat snorted. Empty words. Roadhog might have been more sensible than he was (not that it took much), but they were both reckless by nature, and it was rare for Roadhog to object to any of their wilder ventures.

“I suppose that’s as good as I’m going to get,” Rosa said with a laugh.

There was a momentary lull as everyone absorbed the fact that they didn’t know when they would next see each other, or if they ever would again. Although it was empty except for the massive crate containing their motorcycle, the cargo container they were all standing in felt claustrophobic under the weight of saying goodbye.

Rosa broke the silence. “Oh, but before you go, I have a little going away present for you both...”

Junkrat’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” he said, unable to hide the incredulity in his voice. People never gave him presents. Junkers weren’t keen on handouts, and he had never had someone in his life who liked him enough to give him a gift without expecting something in return.

Rosa handed each of them two soft, knitted bundles. “What’s this?” Junkrat asked, confused. He unfolded it and shook it out to find that it was a jumper made out of thick, black wool, with his trademark bright yellow, x’d out smiley face stitched on the front. A giggle bubbled out of him, and he bounced as he hugged it to his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he wore a shirt, a proper shirt -- there was an army green vest that he had worn over his bare chest as a kid, but he didn’t know if that counted.

“I figured you both might need something warm on your travels -- I hear other countries get a lot colder than Oz in November.” Rosa’s eyes twinkled. “And I knew you would probably have a hard time finding ones that fit.”

Junkrat laughed, elbowing Roadhog. “Yeah, can’t be too easy finding duds in yer size, eh, big guy?” He remembered the way Roadhog’s prison undershirt had constantly ridden up his belly, exposing a slice of his tattoo. There was something to be said for this whole “clothes” thing. Somehow, seeing the way the fabric clung to Roadhog, muscles straining against the too-tight sleeves, felt way more indecent than when he was shirtless.

Roadhog ignored his comment; there was no point in saying anything to the contrary. “Thanks, Rosa,” he said, turning the jumper around so that Junkrat could see it. It was the polar opposite of his, light cream instead of pitch black, a giant pink pig’s head instead of a demented smiley face. It should have been all wrong, given that Roadhog was without a doubt an aggressive, spiked up killer -- or, at the very least, ironic in nature. But it wasn’t. The tooth-rottingly sweet jumper just suited him.

“Yeah!” Junkrat enthused. “Thanks, mate.” He spread out the jumper on a nearby package so that he could admire it. He was itching to pull it on right now, just for the novelty of it, but the humid heat of the cargo container made him reconsider.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Junkrat wasn’t used to people being affectionate with him, asides from Roadhog, and even that was still a relatively recent turn of events. It wasn’t for lack of trying -- he’d certainly tried to be chummy with the other Junkers before he’d been forced to go on the lam, but there was something about him that others tended to find off-putting.

So it was nice to have someone else instigate a friendly hug: Rosa’s soft and warm, just like her, Ava’s a tight, one-armed squeeze.

“Thanks heaps for all the help, mate,” he said gratefully as Ava pulled away.

“No worries, you'll just owe me one.” Ava winked at him. “Take it easy, alright? Don't forget about the rest of us down under! And be safe. You lose another limb or get shot, and Dr. Bones ain't around to patch ya up. And I don't really think Dr. Boom is up to the task.”

Junkrat snickered. “Ahh, probably not,” he admitted. He was good at a lot of things, most of which had to do with destroying property or hurting people: healing was not one of these things.

He let Roadhog say his goodbyes in private -- Ava and Rosa were his friends first and foremost, after all -- and crawled back into the sidecar, sloppily folding the jumper and using it as a pillow. If he peeked over the top of the crate, he could see Roadhog’s forehead pressed against Ava’s. Sexual incompatibility aside, there was a certain kind of bond formed between two people who had committed an act of terrorism together. Junkrat had gotten into some serious trouble with Roadhog before, but they had yet to do anything that quite matched the scale of blowing up an omnium.

He hoped to change that. He reached over his shoulder and fondly patted his tire.

There was just enough room for Roadhog to squeeze into the crate before it was sealed.

“Good thing yer not claustrophobic, eh?”

“Speak for yourself,” Roadhog grunted. He handed Junkrat his rebreather.

Outside the crate, they could hear the sounds of Ava and Rosa filling the rest of the cargo container with junk to be mailed. The more large packages to cover up the motorcycle crate, the lower the chances of anyone bothering to pop theirs open for a visual inspection.

The general gist of their plan amounted to the two of them crossing the ocean as stowaways on a cargo ship. Ava and Rosa were their enablers, posing as women ostensibly shipping their belongings overseas for a fresh start. Between bribes, the cost of engineering the rebreathers, and shipping and handling fees, it was turning out to be their most expensive heist yet. Neither of them particularly cared; they needed to burn through their considerable earnings regardless. Australian dollars would be virtually useless to them the minute they set foot in Japan, given that they had no intention of waltzing into a bank -- at least, not with the express purpose of civilly exchanging currency.

The most challenging hurdle would be overcoming the carbon dioxide detectors used to expose stowaways. With any luck, the rebreathers would take care of that, absorbing and recycling the carbon dioxide in every exhale.

It was a long, tense stretch of time as they waited for some signal that they’d escaped undetected. It was only made worse by the fact that they couldn’t speak.

Junkrat wasn’t claustrophobic so much as he was restless. The crate they were in was huge, large enough to accommodate both their bike and sidecar, but with two overgrown men in it, it got cramped very quickly. He could only sit still for so long before he got fidgety.

He didn’t realise he was acting twitchy until Roadhog pinned his hands to his lap. He startled, head jerking up to look at Roadhog. It didn't do him much good, though -- he couldn't read whatever expression Roadhog was giving him beneath his gas mask, and they were currently incapable of using words to communicate.

He sat there, silently staring down at his lap and Roadhog's hand covering the both of his. He had nice hands, Junkrat decided. Strong and sturdy like the rest of him. Nail polish needed a touch-up, though. Still, not as bad as Junkrat's. He had an unfortunate habit of picking at his nails when there was nothing else to keep his hands busy. It was a reflex from back before he'd lost his arm. He might not have had nails on his mechanical hand to properly chip away at the polish, but he could still cause it to flake off with enough persistence.

Maybe it was a good thing Roadhog was restraining his hands, then. A sudden, unbidden image popped in his head of Roadhog’s hands restraining him in other ways. He quickly shook off the thought, as pleasant a vision as it was, by flexing his fingers.

Roadhog squeezed warningly, a silent reprimand to stop moving, there's already not enough space in here. A burst of laughter bubbled up in Junkrat's chest. Holding it in was quite possibly the hardest thing he ever had to do in his life, with the possible exception of learning how to build a peg leg that supported his body and retraining himself to walk.

He really needed to get out of this box.

They both lurched on the spot as the crate pitched forward. Junkrat didn't know what was happening: if they were just being processed, if they were being loaded onto the ship, if someone had found them out and they were being forcibly ejected from the premises. He wormed his hand out from underneath Roadhog's so that he could lace their fingers together. He just hoped that the bribe would be enough to get them through the initial inspection process, and that the rebreather would carry them home.

They'd found the most vulnerable worker to exploit, with Ava as their proxy, and he seemed grateful enough to hold up his end of the bargain. Ten years from now, some child would be going to university courtesy of the country's biggest criminals. It was kind of touching to think about, Junkrat later said, the two of them acting as sponsors to the unwitting less fortunate, even if it was done solely to further their nefarious plans.

After what felt like an eternity, they heard the unmistakable sounds of the ship's engines roaring to life, followed by the gentle rocking of the waves as they pulled away from the port. Junkrat let go of Roadhog's hand and sat up so quickly that he banged his head on the lid of the crate.

Roadhog detached his rebreathing apparatus for the express purpose of laughing at him, or so Junkrat was convinced. He rubbed his head ruefully and struggled to remove his own rebreather while Roadhog shouldered open the lid of the crate.

Junkrat unfolded his body and climbed out of their hiding space onto the metal shipping container that was wedged behind their box. “Next time, I say we just steal the fuckin' boat,” was the first thing Junkrat said after emerging. He cracked every joint in his neck with a satisfying series of pops and stretched out his back. His head was sore -- that was going to leave a bump -- but the relief he felt at pulling off the first leg of their venture surpassed any physical discomfort.

“Good a plan as any.”

“This whole ‘bein’ careful’ thing is a roight pain in the arse, I tell ya,” Junkrat continued. They were no strangers to convoluted plans, but they weren't used to being cautious. It just wasn't their style. They were loud and obnoxious and stuck out like a sore thumb, and if Junkrat was going for an elaborate scheme, it was going to be a bold one. After spending more time in the slammer than either of them would have liked, however, they decided it was time for a change of tack. Actively attempting to evade capture, as opposed to doing whatever they wanted and running when they were inevitably caught in the act, couldn’t hurt. “Tokyo better be worth all this bullshit.”

He glanced around the cargo hold. They were on the far end of the ship, near the loading ramp, surrounded by packages that ranged the gamut of sizes. There was hardly any floor space to navigate. He envisioned crawling around on top of boxes to get from one side of the hold to another.

Entirely out of nowhere, his thoughts from inside the crate popped into his mind. “Yer nails are chipped!” he blurted out and pointed at Roadhog triumphantly, thoroughly pleased that his memory hadn’t failed him for once.

To his credit, Roadhog took the abrupt change of subject in stride. He looked down at his hands and grunted in agreement. “Yeah. So are yours.” He pulled their dwindling supply of nail polish out of his pocket and sat down, Junkrat scrambling to sit next to him.

Junkrat held out his hand expectantly. He hadn't been very good at applying nail polish when he had two arms made out of flesh and bone. Now that one of them was mechanical, he was even worse, thanks to the fact that it was nigh impossible for him to hold the small brush in his right hand. Built out of scrap metal and a prayer, his prosthetic naturally lacked the epidermal ridges that would help secure his grip, so the brush just rolled out from between his metal fingers.

Thankfully, he had Roadhog. Roadhog, who always painted Junkrat’s nails first before painting his own. “A proper gentleman,” Junkrat had once called him before bursting into a fit of giggles, although Roadhog had maintained that it was because he couldn’t paint someone else’s nails while his own were still wet.

It was one of the few times when he was capable of sitting perfectly still, his fingertips poised on Roadhog’s palm. The spell was broken as soon as Roadhog declared the touchup complete, and it was back to fidgeting as he waited for his nails to dry. He’d gotten impatient in the past and started touching things before they had set, and it always led to smudged nails, so he had quickly learned his lesson.

It didn’t mean he had to be happy about it, though. He groaned dramatically, waving his hand in the air, while Roadhog studiously ignored him and concentrated on applying polish to his own nails. The wait was made worse by the fact that he was intensely curious about his surroundings and wanted nothing more than to poke around and see what other people were shipping overseas.

The moment his nails were dry enough for him to handle objects, he bounded to his feet and set off to explore. The cargo hold was filled with countless packages, and it was sensory overload as his eyes darted here and there, trying to figure out what he wanted to pry open first. He climbed over boxes, peeking at shipping labels and attempting guess which of them contained interesting loot.

He drew up short when he saw a large parcel with a logo on the side that identified it as a gourmet gift basket company. It took him a solid five minutes to figure out how to break into the crate, until he found a piece of metal that served as a crowbar. He wrenched it open to discover an enormous, cellophane-wrapped basket stuffed with fancy Australian cheeses, biscuits, macadamia nuts, and--

Junkrat threw his hands up in the air. “Jackpot!” he crowed.

“What did you find?” Roadhog called out.

Junkrat brandished two bottles. “We got wine, mate! And food too,” he added as an afterthought. “But the grog’s the important bit.”

He snatched up a lump of gouda to bring back with the bottles of wine, so that they could pretend to be the snobby fine dining assholes that they so often mocked. Junkrat put on his poshest accent.

“Wine and cheese for the good sir!” He bit into the hunk of cheese and passed it to Roadhog along with one of the bottles of wine. He plopped down beside him, the second bottle in his lap, and unscrewed his index finger to expose one of the screwdrivers that were part of his mechanical arm’s infrastructure.

Junkrat took care of the cork by stabbing it with the small screwdriver. He raised his bottle in Roadhog’s direction. “I propose a toast!” he declared. “To new adventures!”

“To new adventures,” Roadhog echoed. “And old friends.”

Junkrat was touched, but he tried not to let on just how much the sentiment affected him. Still, he couldn’t hold back the smile that stretched across his face. “Cheers, mate!” he said, clinking bottles with Roadhog and taking a hearty swig. He was fairly certain wine wasn’t meant to be chugged, but he’d be damned if he let that stop him.

Unlike hard liquor, which made him rowdier than ever, wine turned Junkrat into a sleepy drunk. A bottle or so later, he yawned and inched closer to Roadhog, seeking out creature comforts.

“S’good shit,” he mumbled. “Only ever got pissed off plonk before, y’know, whenever one of the Junkers got their hands on a wine cask or two.” He didn’t know that the good stuff tasted so much better. Wine would likely never be his drink of choice, but it wasn’t all that bad.

“Good old chateau cardboard,” Roadhog rumbled.

Even in his groggy state, Junkrat found the term inexplicably hilarious. He laughed uproariously and pressed an affectionate kiss to Roadhog’s arm.

For once, he didn’t have much to say; he just wanted to be close to his partner and enjoy a moment of silent, drunken bliss. They didn’t get quiet moments together very often. Roadhog was absorbed in sewing a new patch onto his harness, and Junkrat pulled out his detonator to give his own hands something to do. He rested against Roadhog’s leg, his entire body heavy and lethargic and warm as the waves of drowsiness washed over him.

Roadhog placed a hand on his head and ruffled his hair, and Junkrat barely suppressed a purr of contentment. It was a small gesture, but one that he loved. It was affectionate in a way that he had never experienced before Roadhog came into his life. It spoke of familiarity. It made him feel like he was home. He leaned into Roadhog’s touch and fiddled with his detonator, wrapping tape around it. It was cozy in the cargo hold like this, tucked up against Roadhog’s side, and he gradually drifted off to sleep, detonator falling to the wayside.

#roadrat #junkrat #roadhog #origins #voyages #my fanfiction

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takerfoxx · 7 years

Text

Another day, another Subconscious preview, and I am blazing through this book! Like, I thought I was going to have to fight through tremendous writer’s block due to switching gears into new characters, but nope! Looks like all those years of preparation are paying off!

It was somewhat interesting, as Sir Mane reflected as he settled into luxurious chair in his private box at the Ava Adore Theater, how wars are named.

Certainly there seemed to be little rhyme or reason. Some, especially single battles, took their name from the place whose soil soaked up the blood. Others from the date in which they happened. Still others got their titles from what was accomplished, such as the Tyrannical War or the War of Jewels. Whatever the case, there just seemed to be little consistency between them.

Take the two most significant wars in Nightmare history. The Nightmare War, in which Thelonious the Silent decided that he was no longer content with ruling over a full fourth of Nod and tried to take the whole pie, was named, of course, after the people who started it, who fired the first shot, who were the most central players in the whole dismal, bloody affair. And ultimately, they were the ones who lost, losing their Progenitor in the process with no heir to take up the mantle of Monarch. The interesting thing to note was that at the time, it wasn't known as the Nightmare War. After all, the Nightmares weren't even called the Nightmares back then, as the one who would provide the name hadn't even been born yet. From all accounts, it was known as the Screaming War while it was still in progress, with the rename occurring much later, starting off as a nickname that eventually took hold and became official in the history books.

On the other hand, despite its similarities, the Marauder War took a different road. Like its elder brother, the Marauder War had been started by the Nightmares. They had been the aggressors, the instigators, the ones who bore the responsibility. As was the case with the Nightmare War, they had done so out of greed, seeking to steal something that they had no right to. In both cases, they had been wholly unprepared for their enemies' response, leaving them a broken and bewildered people, with less standing than they had begun with. And finally, though the Nightmares had taken the brunt of the damage, the end results had still sent shockwaves throughout Nod, forever changing its destiny.

The difference was that the Nightmare War had been named after the losers, as an eternal reminder of their greed and stupidity. On the other hand, the Marauder War was named after the victors. Before they had brought the Nightmares to heel and forced their surrender, the Marauders had been seen as little more than pests, nuisances that bore watching but had little to do with Nod's affairs. So long as they remained in their world, they weren't worth the effort to bother with. Funny how things changed.

Another difference was how much time had elapsed. The Marauder War had only taken place a scarce seventy-four years ago, and many still lived that remembered it. It was recent enough to pervade public consciousness, and was a sore enough subject in many circles that joking about it was considered poor taste.

Naturally, the only thing to do then was to produce a rock opera about it.

The Table and the Tunnel was certainly a controversial production. It retold the events that had led up to the Marauder War and the circumstances of its ending in broad strokes. The personalities of its players were exaggerated, their motivations twisted and several key moments ignored while others warped. To this the producers were unapologetic, citing artistic license. "An entertaining production is more important than historical accuracy!" claimed its writer. To this, critics had been unimpressed, as it was exceedingly clear that the goal of the play was to rewrite history, demonizing one side while propping up the other as misunderstood heroes. The agenda was as clear as day, and the producers' stalwart refusal to admit as such had earned them some very vocal opponents. Protestors were common sights at performances.

Of course, all of this combined with the attractiveness and charisma of its leads and an undeniably catchy soundtrack meant that it was a smash hit. The price of a ticket was obscene and often sold out well in advance. And as one of its principal bankrollers, Sir Mane had profited greatly from its success.

However, money was not the reason he had personally invested in its production. He had more than enough already. No, his reasons were much more personal, and the play's success was satisfying to him on a deeply intimate level. He would have ensured its production even if not a single ticket were ever sold. And he had already seen it three times.

The lights dimmed, and the babble of voices in the audience below, the overwhelming majority of them Nightmares, died down to be replaced with loud cheers and whistles. Smirking, Sir Mane settled down to enjoy the show.

But as the opening chords of the rock ballad The World Beneath began, he became aware that the door to his private box was opening behind him. Frowning, he turned in his seat, wondering who could be so bold to interrupt him and why the guards he had stationed outside had let them through. It had better be good, or they had better be dead.

A plain-faced young man, barely out of childhood and dressed in an ill-fitting tux, walked in. Sir Mane's icy blue eyes were already cold and malicious, something that newspaper caricatures took delight in emphasizing. But now they were downright frigid. If there was one thing he hated more than being interrupted it was children. Already he was mentally figuring out how to dispose of the body.

His hands stuck into his pockets, the young man smirked at him. Then without so much as a greeting or an apology he walked over to slip into the empty seat next to Sir Mane.

And with that, the boy's death warrant was signed.

But before Sir Mane could translate murderous intent into action, the boy's features dissolved like the picture in an old-fashioned, poorly-tuned television. When they came back into focus, Sir Mane found himself sitting next to someone else entirely.

The man looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, with northern European features, a strong, clean-shaven jaw, neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper hair, and storm cloud eyes as cold as Sir Mane's. Though old age was still far away, his face was lined with the wrinkles of a much older man, denoting a man accustomed to submerging himself in weighty affairs. His charcoal black suit now fit him exquisitely. There was a gold ring set with a ruby on his left hand, and a large golden watch on his right wrist. The side of his lip curled up in a manner that might be a smile and might not be. Either way, it did not reach his eyes.

Slowly exhaling, Sire Mane settled back into his chair. "Your Highness," he said, his tone conveying nothing but respect. "This is an…unexpected pleasure."

Prince Claudio Borgia nodded cordially. The eldest son of King Savio Borgia, Claudio was the crown prince of Kanon, a title that might be meaningless in light of his father's immortality, but given that both the original Antoine Borgia, Progenitor to the Kanon, and his son and heir had met with untimely ends three hundred years apart, Claudio's chances of one day taking the throne were higher than one might expect.

Whether or not that should happen depended on who you talked to. Certainly, there was no denying that Claudio was far more intelligent than his passionate, impulsive father, and would make a far more competent Monarch. However, he was also considerably more ruthless, considerably more dangerous, and considerably more feared. It was whispered that Savio had fathered him upon a Nightmare woman. Those that believed so were fools. One didn't need to be a Nightmare in order to be dangerous.

"Clearly," Claudio murmured in his soft, deadly voice, one that was often described as being like a velvet sheathe covering a killing blade. "Apologies for disturbing you, Sir Mane. But if word got out that we were speaking, then uncomfortable questions might arise."

Sir Mane frowned. "Then…forgive me, but wouldn't surprising me at a public venue still cause whispers to spread?"

Claudio's not-a-smile grew ever so slightly. "It is of no consequence. No one save for you recognizes me for who I am. In fact, no one save for you can even see me right now."

Sir Mane slowly breathed out. He was not a man without power. In fact, were the whole of Nod placed onto a list, he would rank in the upper echelon. But the power wielded by the Monarchs and their families was nothing short of terrifying.

Down below, on the stage, the actors playing the parts of Lord Eric of Thorns and the nefarious Dr. Croencore were singing a comedic duet listing all of the Marauders' worst traits, of which they had several. Lord Eric was already a handsome man and the actor selected to portray him had been cast accordingly. However, by all accounts. Dr. Croencore had not been easy on the eyes, and the things he had done had made him an unpopular figure in history. As such, Sir Mane had made sure that the person selected to play him was darkly handsome, with a commanding stage presence, formidable acting ability, and a deep, bass voice with no fewer than three musical numbers. Even the play's harshest critics admitted that he stole the show.

Even Prince Claudio seemed impressed. "You know, my little sister has the soundtrack to this play. This piece is a favorite of hers."

"Really," Sir Mane said. "I'm surprised that your father would allow this."

"Oh, he doesn't," Claudio said amiably. "He doesn't even know. The old man hates this play. In fact, he tried to have it banned from ever being performed anywhere in Kanon

"I remember," Sir Mane said. He didn't ask what the prince was even doing there. When Claudio wanted to tell him, he would. "He doesn't object that strongly to how we portrayed the Marauders, does he?

Claudio chuckled. "Well, he does appreciate how the Marauders knocked the Nightmares down a peg or two dozen. That in itself has caused him to look upon them favorably. But no, it's less of that and more of how well you made the Nightmares look."

"Ah."

Claudio shrugged. "The Nightmares killed our Progenitor and his successor, my father's grandfather and father. He is one to hold a grudge. Understandable, but wearying in the long run."

"And you?"

Another shrug. "I never knew my great-grandfather. I respect him, of course. But I never knew him. And I barely remember my grandfather. The Nightmares deserved their humiliation, yes, but that was a long time ago. If the current regime wishes to make amends, I say it's best to let them. Besides, we cannot allow ourselves to remain blind to the threat the Marauders pose."

The edge of Sir Mane's mouth twitched just a centimeter. It lasted less than a second, but Prince Claudio caught it.

"See?" he said, his smile finally becoming something real. "You agree." He looked back down to the performance, where the primary antagonist was taking the stage for his introductory number. As was customary, the audience booed him with enthusiasm. "The Marauders have not been shy about using their stranglehold on the Nightmares to push their influence out into our world. You know this. Jacob Draco especially grows bolder every year."

"Does he," Sir Mane growled.

On the stage, the character of Jacob Draco, Super Clanmaster of the Marauders, began singing his appropriately bombastic trash-metal signature song, bragging about his schemes and designs on taking all of the world of Nod for his own. The actor was a particular point of pride for Sir Mane, as he nailed the slimy, conniving, duplicitous character with perfection, with grating, nasal singing voice to boot. The fact that he hadn't even hit puberty yet had garnered him much acclaim, and the rest of the cast were quick to let people know that the actual boy was the sweetest thing ever and nothing like the vile person he played.

"Sir Mane, please don't plead ignorance," Claudio said as they watched the fictional depiction of the actual person they were discussing. "You know full well that he's already purchased a number of industrial properties, many of which you yourself had your eye on. And we have reason to suspect that he's been making a push into the entertainment industry as well. We know you've already been undercut several times and had assets you already owned bought out from beneath you. He is aggressively pushing into your territory. And we both know how protective you are of what's rightfully yours."

Sir Mane felt his jaw tighten. He didn't really have the best poker face, true, and Prince Claudio's words were scoring several hits. "What do you want from me?" he said, his voice hoarse.

"Your assistance." Prince Claudio steepled his fingers in front of his face as he continued to watch the performance. "We are in the process of putting together, shall we say, an organization, one that will be tasked with stopping the Marauders in their tracks and force them back into their tunnels."

Sir Mane had to snicker at that. "Good look with that. You know how the Marauders are about their rules. Hurt one, and you bring the whole swarm down on your heads."

"True," Claudio admitted. "But there is something of a loophole, a place where, according to their own rules, anything goes."

That made Sir Mane blink with surprise. No, he couldn't be suggesting what it sounded like he was suggesting. "The Unconscious?" he said, perhaps a bit more loudly than he should have. "You're taking the fight to the Marauders in the Unconscious?"

Unperturbed, Claudio merely said, "There are many who feel that they've been given free rein to plunder dreams long enough. There is more than sufficient reason to suspect that their thieving has had a negative effect on the dreamkind that spawn from dreams that they've stolen from." He quirked an eyebrow, his stormy grey eyes glancing meaningfully at the man sitting next to him. "Besides, if the rumors that they've begun kidnapping fetal dreamkind before the dream has even ended are true, then that in itself is more than enough reason to put a stop to things."

Sir Mane was shocked. Part of the reason why nobody had bothered to do anything about the Marauders until the Nightmares' misguided attempt to steal their power was that, for the most part, the Marauders kept their activities restricted to the Unconscious, sneaking into dreams and taking whatever odd baubles caught their eye. Conducting raids upon those who lived in Nod was heavily frowned upon, which was something of a relief, as killing, harming, or holding a Marauder against their will in Nod was tantamount to an act of war, as the Nightmares had been surprised to find out. Besides, with the Warrens that they called home being inaccessible to anyone but themselves, stamping out their nests was all but impossible, whereas they could strike anytime, anywhere should they be provoked. As such, so long as the little rats kept their plundering restricted to dreams, then the rest of the world had to content itself with pretending that they didn't exist.

The war had changed that. The Nightmares had broken those rules, and had paid the price for their foolishness. And ever since then the Marauders had been growing more and more bold. There were rumors of raids taking place on the smaller settlements, farmsteads, and unclaimed territories. People claimed to have seen Marauders walking the streets, plain as day. One particularly disturbing incident had occurred only a few weeks ago, in which a group of drunk young men had attacked what they swore was a Marauder raiding party but had turned out to be group of schoolchildren walking home from the theater. Luckily there hadn't been any serious injuries, but it did speak to the growing fear that came from the Marauder clans breaking their traditional borders and everyone being unable to do anything about it.

However, like Prince Claudio, there was a loophole, a way to strike back without violating the Marauders' strict code. The Unconscious itself, where the dreams of humanity created the denizens of Nod, a virtual no-man's-land as far as the Marauders were concerned. According to their rules, those who entered a dreamer's dream did so at their own peril. And while no Marauder would dare take advantage of that loophole to murder another while in a dream, there was, as Claudio had just pointed out, nothing preventing someone else from doing the same.

Sir Mane slowly breathed out. This was…this was going to change everything. "It's still dangerous," he said. "Dreams don't last long enough to set any proper traps. And where are you planning on taking any Marauders you capture?"

"I never said anything about capturing them," Prince Claudio murmured.

Silence.

Back on the stage, the current song came to an end, as Sir Eric of Thorns lamented the circumstances that had driven him to such extremes. The applause eventually died down, and as the room darkened to signal a scene change, Sir Mane said, "What you're proposing is extremely dangerous. Sure, it's a loophole, but you can't expect the Marauders to do nothing. They'll declare war regardless."

"Some will want to, yes," Claudio responded. "Others won't be so eager."

Sir Mane frowned. "Meaning?"

"We have reason to believe that tensions have started to rise between the clans. They were always a disorganized bunch, squabbling and competing amongst themselves. They united during the war, certainly, but that was a long time ago. As we understand it, the fact that Jacob Draco kept the power he accumulated during the war has rankled some nerves, and whatever goodwill he gained for winning is now all but spent."

Now this was interesting. Sir Mane's own sources had also said as such, but nothing had been confirmed. His brow furrowed, Sir Mane leaned in closer and listened.

"If you'll recall, it took some time for the Marauders to fully commit to the war, and that was after the Nightmares had blatantly violated their rules," Claudio continued. "It wasn't until the purpose of Dr. Croencore's experiments came to light that they panicked. It is our hope that striking at them while respecting the letter of the law of their rules will further inflame those tensions, driving a wedge between those who wish to strike back and those reluctant to enter into another conflict."

"Maybe, but that'll just make them more reckless," Mane countered. "Even if there isn't another war, the pressure will just motivate Jacob to accelerate whatever he's doing."

"Indeed," Claudio said with a soft smile. "We're counting on it, actually."

And then Mane got it. "This is what you need me for, isn't it?"

Claudio nodded. "No one knows the extent of Jacob Draco's push into our world like you do. No one's resisted him as long as you have. As his principal…business rival, you're in a unique position to upset whatever it is he has planned. Only now you'll be doing it with our backing."

"Really. And are you sure they'll be so anxious to have me? After all, I am not a popular figure in many circles."

"Oh, your necromantic hobbies don't bother us much. We're not looking for public support. We're looking for results." Then Claudio make a cursory scan of the audience below them. "By the by, are those two infamous monsters of yours about?"

"They're where I need them," Mane answered, his voice betraying nothing. "Back to the point, what if war does result?"

"Oh, I feel that's inevitable at this point," Claudio said, his tone disturbingly casual for such a weighty pronouncement. "But this way, we'll be in a far better position to fight back and eventually crush them when it does. Furthermore, you'll have our full support and protection should they turn their destructive attention toward you and your properties."

"Ah. And if I may, who exactly does we include?"

"Why, all of us," Prince Claudio said. "The Kanon, the Desios, and the Sahks. The Nightmares are, of course, excluded, but we have every reason that should open hostilities erupt, they'll be more than happy to throw off the Marauders' yoke and throw in as well."

Mane's head jerked back. "What? Are you serious?"

"I am." Then Claudio grimaced. "Well, for the most part. We're still ironing out the details. The Four Thrones have never been known for being agreeable with one another, but we're making headway. It helps that it was King Azul the Golden's idea."

Now Mane was outright stunned. "Azul is part of this?"

"He's spearheading it, actually." Claudio shrugged and chuckled. "Of course, Father is being contrary, but I'm sure he'll come around. The Sahks are…more or less on board, but with them, who can tell really?"

Mane leaned back into his seat, thinking. This…this changed everything. If what Prince Claudio was saying turned out to be true, then the social and political ramifications were going to be huge. Three of the four dreamkind kingdoms cooperating to exterminate the Marauders once and for all? The Nightmares themselves finally free to seek bloody vengeance? Jacob Draco, cornered like rat, his machinations laid bare while his support base crumbled? The Marauders themselves falling into dissolution and infighting? This was going to shape history for centuries to come!

Of course, dissention or no, the Marauders were going to resist. Even with all four kingdoms united against them, they were sure to put up a hell of a fight. No one really knew the full extent of the resources they had at their disposal, and even if they went down, it was fair to say that they were going to take a number of their enemies down with them. And just by being involved, Mane was going to become a prime target. They were going to try to ruin him, destroy everything he had worked to build, maybe even kill him.

But then, they were going to do that regardless, and with this level of support there was nothing he could lose that he would be unable to rebuild tenfold. And he relished the chance to take the fight back to that conniving snake. Besides, he was very, very hard to kill.

But still…

"There's still problems though," Mane said. "What about the Warrens? We still have no way of accessing them. Dr. Croencore's research was never completed, and he's been missing for years. What if they see this coming and start leveraging the Nightmares against us? What about-"

"The problems and risks are numerous, yes," Claudio said smoothly. Mane bristled at the interruption, but he didn't dare make an issue of it. "And we will be more than happy to discuss them with you at length. But for now, we don't need a sounding board. We need an answer. Are you in or out?"

Mane frowned. "Hypothetically speaking…if I say no, what follows?"

"Then I thank you for your time and leave you to enjoy the rest of the play," Claudio said. "You sacrifice only the opportunities that are to come."

"And you'll trust me not to blab?"

"I don't see how you'll be able to, seeing how I'll be taking all memory of this meeting with me when I leave."

Sir Mane wasn't surprised. Though he was far more resistant to mental manipulation than most people, even his mind would be a cakewalk to alter for a member of one of the royal families. "Fair enough," he said. "I'll have to think about it first."

Claudio nodded in agreement. "Quite reasonable. Take all the time you need. However, before you begin, there is something else I feel I should point out."

Mane was instantly on his guard. This was it: Claudio's trump card. "What is it?" he said guardedly.

Leaning over to whisper into Mane's ear, Claudio said, "He's here."

"What?"

"Jacob Draco. He's here. In this theater."

Mane inhaled sharply through his teeth. "What?"

Moving away, Claudio gestured with one hand out toward the audience. Specifically, to the box across from Mane's. In it sat an unremarkable young man and woman, both of them seeming to be in their late teens or early twenties (though when it came to age, appearance accounted for little) and were dressed wealthily enough to not seem out of place, with the boy wearing an olive-green suit and golden spectacles with thick green lenses while the girl had on a low-cut, frilly red dress and a large red flower stuck into her dark hair. Standing behind them were four men in dark tuxedos, obviously bodyguards.

Mane did not recognize them, and that in itself set off alarm bells. They had bought a ticket for one of the private boxes in his theater, watching his show! He ought to not only know their names, relations, and accomplishments, but also have their parents on speed-dial!

"That's him?" he said, his voice lowering to a snarl. "Are you sure?"

"Quite," Prince Claudio murmured. If he was at all offended at having his word questioned, it didn't show. He made a vague motion with the fingers of his right hand.

Before Mane's eyes, the occupants from the other box changed. Though their outfits remained the same, the boy and girl both shrank in their seats, becoming children nearly a decade younger than they had been. The boy's face darkened, his slicked-back hair thickening into black curls, changing from a bland Caucasian to adopting more Mediterranean features while the girl's complexion paled, her hair darkening and her face changing from English to Korean. As for the large men behind them, they also shrank, turning from burly men to burly teenagers. Though his eyes were shielded by his glasses, the boy was clearly disgusted, his nose wrinkling as he watched the stage. There, Dr. Croencore had little Ellen Richardson strapped to the titular table and was exasperatedly trying to convey his intention to her while the girl cluelessly misinterpreted everything he said, turning the scene into an Abbott and Costello routine.

Mane inhaled deeply through his nostrils and hissed it out through his teeth. That was him. Jacob Draco, in the flesh, accompanied by more of his Marauder filth.

"If you doubt what you're seeing, I remind you that I don't need to cast an illusion in order to manipulate you. I could simply dominate your mind and be done with it," Claudio said mildly. "The only illusion I've created is the one that that admitted me to your box and continues to make it seem that you are sitting alone, enraptured with the play. All I've done here is let your eyes pierce through their own glamour." He waved his hand again, and everyone in the far box regained their false faces.

"I'm not doubting you, your Highness," Mane growled. "What I am, however, is wondering what he's even doing here."

"Oh, that's easy enough. If my rival produced a smash hit musical about what a wicked fellow I was, I would want a closer look as well, if for no other reason to ensure that my songs had the potential to become breakaway pop hits."

Then, as if acting on some sort of cue, the disguised Jacob Draco shook his head and got up to head for the door at the back of the box. Two of the guards immediately followed suit, with the girl and the other two remaining.

"And there he goes," Claudio observed. "Perhaps he knows something's up, or simply had all the stage slander he could stomach. Odd he would leave his date though. Maybe he's just going to the restroom."

Mane took a deep breath. "Right then."

And then he stood up and made for the door.

Before he went too far, Prince Claudio reached up with one hand to grab him by the sleeve. He waited until he had Mane's full attention before saying, "Careful. You do anything to harm or detain him and the war is started prematurely. If you kill him, he'll just become a martyr, and someone else will take his place. We want him destroyed, not dead."

Mane gritted his teeth, but he managed a short nod. "I won't hurt him," he said hoarsely. "I'm just going to show him the door."

Claudio said nothing. The way his eyes bore into Mane's was warning enough. He released Mane's sleeve, and the Death Knight straightened out his coat and continued on his way, out the door, his gloved hands clenching into tight fists.

…

As Sir Mane stormed through the richly decorated halls of the Ava Adore Theater, he pulled his cellphone out of the pocket of his great coat. A few flicks, and he had brought up the theater's camera system, which told him immediately where Jacob Draco was and where he was heading.

Curiously, the Marauder Clanmaster was not making for the stairs, as the first thing a Marauder would do upon sensing danger would be to rush for the ground floor. Instead, he and his muscular entourage were instead moving around the top floor, making their way towards…

Despite his anger, Mane still smirked with amusement. So, it turned out that Jacob really did just need to use the restroom. Well, that was convenient.

Pocketing the phone, Mane continued his relentless march toward his nemesis. As he did, two other figures emerged from separate hallways to fall into step just behind him without losing stride, their long coats swishing as they walked. One was an exceptionally tall Pacific Islander with a neatly trimmed black beard; a large, black leather coat over his tailored black suit; and a wide-brimmed black hat. The other was a white man of average height, with a brown leather trench coat, spiky brown hair, and far too many tacky golden chains around his neck. The tall dark man scowled, the smaller white man smirked, and they matched each other's gait stride for stride.

As Mane turned the corner, he saw a few men gathered around the restroom in question, looking rather annoyed. Stationed in front of the door were the two guards, both of them standing with their arms folded and their expressions blank, staring silently at one especially peeved looking old man in a grey tuxedo who was loudly demanding if they knew who he was and what their names were.

As Mane and his escorts approached, the old man turned his furious attention to him. "Ah, there you are!" he said as he stormed over. "Mr. Mane, I'll have you know that I have been a loyal patron of this theater for years, and never once have I heard of anyone being permitted to clear the restrooms for their private use! This is an absolute-"

"Sir Mane," Mane corrected automatically, his eyes looking past the old man to focus on the guards, who were uncrossing their arms and now looking rather nervous. "And you're right, Mr. Pendanski. We don't permit that."

One of the guards raised a hand to his earpiece while the other reached inside his jacket. Wrong move.

Moving so quickly that those gathered around gasped, Mane suddenly had his hands around the necks of both guards and had them lifted up against the wall. He tossed them to either side, where his associates were waiting.

"Don't move, junior," said the white man in the brown coat in his thick Australian accent. He yanked out one of the sprawling guard's earpiece and crushed it in his hand and leered down at the dumbstruck Marauder. "Or this night's gonna get real interesting."

The tall dark man didn't even bother with threats. He merely disarmed the other guard and stood with his boot planted against the struggling boy's chest.

Without bothering to watch the proceedings, Mane shoved the restroom door aside and went in.

Like one might expect, the Ava Adore Theaters restrooms were as pricey as the rest of it, with each toilet having its own room set in the wall that including a small, private sink, mirror, a television screen keeping its occupants up-to-date with the performance, and cosmetics tray and refreshment table; potted plants; a central fountain; black marble floors; white marble sinks with golden faucets; and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. One of the doors was shut.

And from inside, Mane heard a toilet flush, followed by a rushing faucet.

The stall door opened, and Jacob Draco emerged wiping his hands, still wearing the false face of the bland young man that had granted him access. He apparently had not heard Mane come in, as he didn't seem at all hurried. In fact, he was idly whistling his stage character's signature song.

Then he caught sight of Sir Mane standing there, staring at him, and he froze.

Mane smirked. "Enjoying the play?" he said.

Before Jacob had time to react, Mane was on him, clearing the distance between them in less time than it takes to blink. Seizing the boy by the lapels, he lifted him up and shoved him against the wall.

"Wha, whoa, wait!" Jacob shrieked out, his hands clawing at Mane's arms. "What are you-"

"Shut up," Mane growled. He would have shut him up himself by squeezing his throat, but he was dancing along the line as it was. "Drop the act, Jacob. I know it's you."

Jacob stared down at him, his thick, green glasses giving the gaze an insectoid look. Then he sighed, his body relaxing.

Unlike when Prince Claudio had dropped his own glamour, Jacob literally seemed to shed his, the false face and added height flaking away from him like ash that fell around Mane's hands to disappear before touching the floor. It was like watching a snake shed its skin. In fact, it was exactly that.

"Well," Jacob said, dropping the high, Western American accent he had been using in favor of his natural voice. "I believe the term is 'busted.'"

Mane was not amused. "You have some nerve coming here. What are you doing here, Jacob? This is my theater."

"I wanted to see the rock opera," Jacob responded with a wry smile, his lips opening enough to display two rows of large, sharp, predatory teeth, like those of a wolf, though given his mascot, a dragon would be more accurate. If he was at all concerned with being hoisted into the air by the notorious Death Knight he didn't show it. "And I have to say: the songs are catchy, but surely you could have given me a better voice than that."

Even with rage reddening his vision, Mane was aware that this was the first meeting between himself and the infamous victor of the Marauder War, who held the entire Nightmare government by a tight leash. That might have meant more had Mane not been the boy's elder by several centuries and still remembered when the Marauders were nothing more than a few back-alley gangs of runaway children, stealing food and picking pockets to survive, with the Warrens nothing more than a distant fantasy. Plus, the way Jacob was confidently smirking despite his peril was all kinds of infuriating.

It also occurred to Mane that he had it within his power to make this meeting between them the last, to tear those disrespectful lips right off his face and smash those pointed teeth. The Nightmares would probably thank him.

But even as his body tensed with the thought, he suddenly found himself locked in place, his limbs frozen. Grunting, he tried to move, but it was like an invisible block of ice had set in place around him. He could move his eyes, twitch his nostrils, and tighten his muscles, but any movement beyond that was denied him.

No, Prince Claudio's silky voice spoke into his mind. Do not.

Mane gritted his teeth, but he acquiesced, his body relaxing. And suddenly, whatever it was that had held him in place was gone.

"Cat got your tongue?" Jacob said wryly.

Mane's eyes were already dark, but that comment lost them some color still. He slowly lowered Jacob to the floor and set him down. The threat was not gone though. He still towered over the boy, boxing him in between himself and the wall. For his part, Jacob stared back from behind his thick, green coke-bottle glasses.

"You are not welcome here, Marauder," Mane growled. "Leave."

Jacob quirked an eyebrow. Then he reached up and removed his glasses from his face.

His eyes were two orbs of pure silver, glinting in the light from the lamps.

"I bought a ticket," he said as he pulled out a silk handkerchief and used it to wipe down his glasses. "I broke no rule. I see no reason why I should not-"

In answer, Mane pulled his wallet from his pocket and extracted several bills. "Here," he said, flicking them at the boy. "Your refund. Now get out."

Sighing, Jacob placed his glasses back on. "Sir Mane, why the hostility? You are no Nightmare; you're not even a dream. As far as I know there is no reason for quarrel between us."

Mane wanted to take the smirking snake by the throat and crush it. He imagined how it would feel, the flesh crumpling between his fingers, listening to that insipid voice gasps and pleadings harshen into a croaking death rattle. "Jacob, don't take me for a fool. I know it was you that stole NamTech from me. I know it was you that bought out those Sierra farms out from under me. I know it was you that blocked me from those contracts in Mascaline."

Jacob tilted his head. "All's fair in love and capitalism, is it not? Business is business, and-"

"You are a Marauder," Mane snapped. "Your kind scurries in holes and tunnels and steals from dreams. You have no place in Nod. You have no right."

"Do I not? That's an interesting thing to hear from your lips. After all, you are no dream yourself. You may not be human, exactly, but you are still a dreamer, or you were. You're even more a stranger a stranger to Nod than I."

Mane bared his teeth in a gorilla grin. "Yes, you are correct. I am not a dream. I came here when the ways were still open. And in the hundreds of years since, I have integrated myself nicely with dreamkind. You? You rejected your claim, you and the rest of those dark children, sniveling about in your tunnels. I have earned my place, you forfeited yours. Now, will you leave, or will I have to test your people's loyalty? Because I hear there are many in the Warrens who would be relieved to see you gone."

Jacob's face hardened then. The boy's poker face was better than Mane's, yes, but Mane's comment had struck a nerve. So, it seemed that the reports of dissention between the Marauder clans had some merit.

"Very well," Jacob said shortly. He straightened out his jacket and moved around Sir Mane, not bothering to pick up the money on the ground. As he walked, his glamour rebuilt himself, giving him half a foot in height and a different face. Mane stood in place, watching him like a hawk.

Before Jacob reached the door, he paused. "By the by," he said, his hand on the metal push bar. "I have a complaint."

"I don't care," Mane said.

Jacob ignored him. "Demonize me if you wish. Drag my name through the mud if it makes you feel good about yourself. But your portrayal of Ellen Richardson was unwarranted. She is a victim, and what Dr. Croencore did to her was beyond the pale. Tell me: does it give you pleasure to portray her as a joke?"

Mane thought for a moment. Then he said, "Why, yes. Yes it does."

"Hmmm." Releasing the door, Jacob turned fully to face him. "Someone sent her a Table and the Tunnel DVD, you know. She cried when she saw how you made light of what happened to her."

"Good to hear," Mane said. "Now get out."

Jacob said nothing more. He merely turned and marched from the restroom. As the door swung open, Mane saw that Jacob's date and the other two guards had apparently joined their companions, with all five of them being lined up against the wall while Mane's two monsters casually stood guard.

Jacob paused upon seeing them, clearly recognizing who, and what, they were. In turn, they smiled twin predatory smiles at him, with the tall, dark one tipping his hat while the other bowed mockingly at the waist. Moving in synchronization, they motioned toward Jacob Draco's companions in an "after you" gesture.

Jacob grimaced. Then he walked over to the terrified girl and gently took her by the arm and hastily led her away from the gaggle, his four guards quick to fall in step behind them. The restroom door swung shut.

It was only then that Mane allowed himself to exhale. Though he had broken no rule, he knew that that altercation was going to have consequence. Despite his youthful appearance, Jacob Draco was not one to suffer such an insult. Perhaps his interference into Mane's business had been nothing more than simple conflict of interest. But from here on out, it was going to be personal.

Good.

Mane picked up a moist hand towel from a silver serving tray and used it to wipe his face. Discarding it, he left the restroom.

Some of the men had dispersed at the first sign of violence to find some less jealously guarded restroom while the braver and more curious remained, along with a few new faces attracted by the action. One of them was the elderly Carl Pendanski, who seemed shaken that his wishes had been carried in such a violent fashion. "Good God, man!" he sputtered. "Was that all really necessary? It was just-"

"The situation has been dealt with," Sir Mane announced to the stunned onlookers. "The restroom is once again open to the public, and those who thought to claim otherwise have been…banned." He smiled grimly. "My sincerest apologies for the disturbance."

With that he turned and stormed back the way he came. Behind him, his two monsters silently sauntered off to wait until they were needed again.

…

"That was a bit close to the skin," Prince Claudio remarked as Sir Mane returned to his box. "I do recall instructing you not to harm them."

Exhaling, Mane slumped back into his seat. Below, the play had entered the end of the first act to enthusiastic applause. "I'm in," he said.

Claudio smiled grimly. "I thought you would be. You more than committed yourself just now."

Mane's hands were trembling where they gripped his seats' armrests. He quickly clasped them tightly over his chest. "He's going to respond. Try to destroy me out of spite."

"I am confident in your abilities to resist. You have, after all, survived considerably worse."

"That I have," Mane said hoarsely.

Nodding, Prince Claudio stood to his feet. "Well, I must be off. Unfortunate. I was enjoying the show. If you could send my sister Valerie a signed cast photo, I would take it as a kindness." He patted Sir Mane on the shoulder. "I'll put you in touch with our Lord General once he's ready."

"Lord General?" Sir Mane frowned. "This organization is to be military?"

"Some aspects, yes. I personally see them more as a special police."

"Ah. And who is this Lord General of yours? Anyone I know?"

"No, I'm afraid. He's new to the game, but I promise you'll be impressed." Then, like the Cheshire Cat from storybooks, Prince Claudio started to fade from view, his body becoming more and more transparent. However, before he vanished completely, he left Sir Mane with one last thought. "In fact, you might say he was made for this job."

#subconscious

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