#i will actually risk going to jail for my baby brother i

[mallo-person]

Never expected a wild daydream to make me physically angry but here we are.

[xx-psych0-rabbit-xx]

For the character list ask: Renfield, Mordred?

OHH BOTH FAVORITES AT ONCE NICE

renfield

favorite thing:hes just like me hes just like me fr

least favorite thing:dead </3

favorite line:all the times he gets to be mean to seward.sooo funny of him

brOTP:i wish he got to have like.a positive relationship i could put here.uh.i think seeing him and quincey interact would have been fun

OTP:n/a i hc him as aro lol

NOTP:renfield/seward i have it filtered out bc its literally triggering for me LMAO

random headcanon:if i give him self hitting autism will i go to jail for overdosing on self indulgence hcs

unpopular opinion:id usually have one but my minds blanking out uhh none of stokers hate crime attempts w his character worked on me baby girl i am just like that too.i am fine w his portrayal in 99% of his scenes.in fact we should let him be more violent he earned that

song i associate w them:the masters song

favorite picture of them:i dont wanna risk tumblr deleting everything ive written so ill fetch the pictures later but that scene in spanish dracula where hes sitting silly after seward pulls him up the balcony.god i love rubio renfield he gets it

mordred

favorite thing:he is also just like me+i like assholes

least favorite thing:the fcking post vulgate stories that try making him into a rapist.the entirety of the post vulgate is garbage overall but oh my god they really created "use rape as empathy shock factor" huh...i saw one person bring up the possibility of writing stuff w the rapist mordred takes and wanted to punch the wall.let that shit die permanently

favorite line:ik idylls of the queen is a modern book but i love that little exchange he was w kay where kay tells him god damned him to hell and he goes "yeah ♥️"

brOTP:i love love love his relationship w agravaine treason brothers <3 personality disorder solidarity <333

OTP:sorry for being a mordred kinnie stereotype </3 but galadred.its actually them+percival but i write galahad and mor in such a mentally ill way they hate each other for half the story in my head and its fun for me to think about

NOTP:literally anything w incest GOD why is there a published book where he falls in love w his father.

random headcanon:the way i write the patrice murder story in my head has him climbing the castle walls to overhear conversations from outside the windows for investigation.he also hid under a bed at some point for that as well.weirdo

unpopular opinion:i HATE the once and future king but th white was onto something w the take hes a hyper paranoid asshole who thinks everyones out to hurt him and cries if someones slightly mean back.he literally fits the whole ppd criteria th white wants to fuck ppl w ppd so bad (also idylls of the queen did the same take but like being normal about him so no credit to white regardless lol) i simply do not think he can work as just a sad snarky emo boy.psychotic-fy his ass!

song i associate w them:debt collector

favorite picture of them:that one where he has dragon themed armor and the dragon sword.god theres no way clarent (the sword) came w the dragon wings on it he 100% had them alter it for his dad killing outfit

[somerpmemes]

The Owl House Starters

Change as needed

“No! My only weakness! Dying!”

“That doesn’t count, right?”

“Do you have any friends? Real ones?”

“Tiny trash thief!”

“Oops, that happens sometimes.”

“I’m a squirmy little fella.”

“I like food, I like love, just let me write about it!”

“Oh, he gets so cute when he’s thirsty for power.”

“I’ve never actually broken any of your stupid laws… in front of you.”

“I hate everything you’re saying right now.”

“We’d be the strongest power couple ever.”

“Self-doubt is a prison you can never escape from.”

“Anyways, let’s bounce before any more monsters fall in love with me.”

“I am not your cutie pie!”

“No one wants an un-oiled snake.”

“Remember, never befriend a man in sandals and always measure twice, cut once.”

“Be back by nightfall or risk mortal peril!”

“I know I’ve had enough delight for one day.”

“Sorry to break it to you, ___, but no one here is that well-dressed.”

“This has been a rough day.”

“Big houses always belong to big whack jobs.”

“Today just got good.”

“Wizards are just old people with glitter in their pockets.”

“Anyways, your food is gone and we are too.”

“Never trust a man in casual drapery.”

“All that mean-spirited laughter made me sleepy.”

“I don’t like this. I really don’t like this.”

“All your food was so tiny and cute.”

“If you can think of a better plan I’d love to hear it.”

“Betrayed by my own cool accessories.”

“I didn’t have to be part of this!”

“I… don’t like this.”

“I think I’ll head home and look at pictures of animals that are still… alive.”

“Wow, you’re so unnoticeable I almost rolled into you.”

“It’s okay, the thorns only went through a few layers of skin.”

“Alright, into the darkness you go.”

“Oh my god, I haven’t eaten real food in so long please give me some.”

“You can’t just cut open a human, can you?”

“Keeping junk in my pocket saved my life!”

“Ahh, baby’s first wanted poster.”

“Even demons have inner demons.”

“This is my paying attention face.”

“Look, now we’re boo boo buddies.”

“It’s like a rainbow, but looking at it turns you inside out.”

“I respect your cunning but I also hate you for it.”

“Oh, gross. Can I keep that?”

“This is terrifying, so why do you look so happy?”

“Oh no, a twist!”

“I’m kind of over that nickname, but okay.”

“Oh, what lovely thing do we have here? It’s just so dang shiny, oh my.”

“And look, I drew flip book.”

“I will literally do anything to stop this.”

“If I’m seen, I could go to jail… again.”

“Alright, let’s see this mess.”

“That’s probably fine.”

“Time to prepare for bloodshed.”

“Welcome down to my level!”

“I know I should be repulsed but that look is fierce.”

“I’m gonna steal everything that’s not nailed down!”

“I was up all night poison tasting and, for some reason, I don’t feel great.”

“I need an extra pair of eyes looking out for pickpockets. And an extra pair of hands in case I want to pickpocket.”

“I got leaves in my pants. And I like it.”

“I was a strange child.”

“You think this can stop me? I can still bite your ankles.”

“If you’re gonna eat me, just do it now!”

“___, you’re getting all swoony again.”

“Rivals are meant to be annihilated, not befriended.”

“Witches eating babies is so 1693.”

“Ugh, you.”

“I thought we were as cool as cucumbers but we’re as sour as pickles.”

“Whoa, I almost passed out.”

“It’s been hours, how can it keep screaming!?”

“Say that again and I steal your tongue.”

“Keep going, this is fun to watch.”

“Isn’t that taking it a bit too far?”

“Just go away before things somehow get worse!”

“This never happened.”

“And who doesn’t like their name in lights?”

“That’s the incorrect reaction!”

“I smell an easy mark.”

“Well, I hate her.”

“It’s like demonic possession with the ones you love.”

“This is just like my favorite early 2000’s movie!”

“I’m so old… and pointy.”

“I’ve got some very confusing emotions right now.”

“My life’s not a joke! But yours is!”

“Novelty costumes are where I draw the line.”

“I am not above disrespecting my elders.”

“This vacation just took an alarming, back-alley turn.”

“Geez, I thought I’d like being babied. But I feel small and helpless, like some sort of baby.”

“Hey, take this, society!”

“I didn’t like her telling me what to do before, but now I love it!”

“Let’s go let out some teen angst!”

“This is how the cool kids ride. Super backwards, on purpose.”

“Your life is pretty terrible. But, hey, it’ll probably be over soon.”

“This is some of my best work, really captures the shame.”

“That’s sweet, kid. Now let’s never speak of this again.”

“Show, don’t tell, man.”

“Oh, look what you did. I’m gonna go rub it in.”

“That seems like a potential problem to me.”

“You being the razzle, I’ll bring the dazzle.”

“Do you always have confetti on you or—?”

“You’re just gonna be unhelpful, huh?”

“Okay, time to run for no particular reason!”

“Oof, I’ve had this nightmare before.”

“Like I’d actually apologize.”

“I want power, and I want drama.”

“Are you ready to give up?”

“I was afraid, I acted stupid.”

“I just wish you told me the truth.”

“You know, it didn’t taste as bad as I thought I would.”

“Impressive, still alive.”

“This is a throne worthy of a tyrant!”

“No, no, keep those sticky hands away.”

“No one wants to see that.”

“Since when are you into sports?”

“Gross, sympathy.”

“Don’t spend all night plotting revenge.”

“Oh, this is an interesting development.”

“I’ll take that weird grumble as a yes.”

“I’m feeling confident about this plan.”

“Trust must be earned.”

“If you run, you’ll just make it harder for yourself!”

“Your pride has destroyed you.”

“So tiny, so angry.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be clean again.”

“If you ever want to search for the truth, I’ll help you.”

“Aww, that’s a horrible lie.”

“Partake of my free snack samples!”

“Why isn’t anyone paying attention to me?”

“A, eww. B, I’m bored. C, I feel like pickpocketing some dork while they browse.”

“I know my good angle.”

“Ugh, what are the basement dwellers doing out in natural sunlight?’

“Hey, there’s more to life than shipping.”

“___, I know you’re trying to help, but I think you’re crossing a line.”

“Ooh, I love punching.”

“You’re ominous, and I like it.”

“And of course you would be here just to be a nuisance.”

“I wanted to compare sunglasses.”

“Fame can really box you in, you know?”

“Besides, if anyone’s putting you down it’s gonna be me.”

“If it’s disappointing in any way I’ll spend the rest of my life trashing it.”

“He scammed us. Can you believe he scammed us?”

“Good entrance. But that outfit? Hah!”

“I’ve got a new crush and her name is education!”

“Ahh, fresh garbage.”

“I have never seen such an extravagant earring.”

“Wow, a surprisingly peaceful domestic moment. When will it be ruined?”

“Weaponizing my pride, well played.”

“Sorry, whoever’s over there!”

“Well, go on. Eat the snow.”

“Huh, it’s no fun if they don’t tremble.”

“Oh, okay, alright. Yup, an idea’s happening.”

“Shh! I don’t need your validation!”

“Get back here before that thing bites you!”

“No, we’re gonna die.”

“Cool. I didn’t actually think you could do it.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“Alright, your adorable banter is literally making me sick.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve seen worse.”

“Aww. I won’t be doing that, but thanks.”

“Quitting: it’s like trying, but easier.”

“You humans are filled with liquids, right?”

“I guess I have always liked pouring things into other things.”

“Time to scrounge through the trash.”

“I ain’t no desk jockey.”

“You don’t know diddly dang about squiddly squat!”

“I love secret rooms!”

“You have an aura of lies.”

“Also, you can eat trash.”

“Do the right thing, you dingus!”

“It just goes on like this for an hour.”

“Carnivals bring crowds and crowds bring suckers.”

“We’ve got scams to run.”

“I know poison when I see it.”

“You can’t scam a scammer.”

“You should really put a lock on your closet.”

“I love crimes!”

“Now this is my kind of weird.”

“That’s way safer than becoming blood brothers.”

“Beat up the man and steal his things for me.”

“This mama is ready for trauma.”

“All right. Approval!”

“Curse these stubby legs!”

“Sketchy carnival rides are not to blame this time.”

“___, you’re lucky I can’t be mad at your adorable antics.”

“Just when I thought I couldn’t respect the law any less…”

“Aww, what a supportive sign.”

“Yep, I just counted to one million.”

“Looks like we ruined his life for a second time.”

“I’ve always wanted to own a jagged piece of cheap metal.”

“Yes! Bread puns, bread puns forever!”

“Now I know what friendship tastes like.”

“I think today is a talons day.”

“It’s fun because it’s stupid.”

“I’ll admit, I was adorable.”

“Be careful with my brain.”

“Wouldn’t you rather talk about it?”

“That’s my motto after all, ‘Out of sight, out of mind.’”

“No schemes, no plots, no ruses. None.”

“I can’t believe I made him cry.”

“Are you solving a crime or about to commit one?”

“Sadly this is one problem crime can’t solve.”

“I’m supposed to choose someone interesting, accomplished, and noteworthy. People aren’t meant to be all those things!”

“Yup, her brain’s burned up real good.”

“Be still my fantasy-loving heart.”

“I’m pretty good at getting stuck inside people’s heads.”

“Hey, I found something magical.”

“I’ma put my face in it.”

“It’s like a little doghouse for angels.”

“If you’re handing out attention, I deserve it.”

“Eww, I mean, aww.”

“I really messed things up.”

“It’s eggs, it’s full of eggs.”

“No one turns down an interview with someone this pretty.”

“Me? Avoid? What? No. But let’s skip it.”

“There’s levels to me, kid. Levels I say!”

“Oh, right, I put people in there.”

“I’m gonna hug you so hard you’ll never forget me again!”

“I regret teaching you about the internet.”

“Ah, a severed hand. Perfect response.”

“Hmm, the demon at my shoulder makes a good point.”

“Always trust a shoulder demon.”

“The more I look at him, the more uncomfortable I get.”

“Man, you’ve got some quick grabbers.”

“I can’t wait to get overdressed, take awkward photos, push all the buttons!”

“We’re gonna turn this bloodbath into a fun bath.”

“Do you think I could pull off red eyeshadow?”

“Girl, you could pull off anything.”

“We’re style geniuses!”

“Ominous footsteps, creepy woods, this is no problem.”

“Dang, I look great.”

“___, you always go overboard and I end up bailing you out.”

“Now, what’s the fun in watching a kid get eaten by a monster if it’s my kid?”

“___, I don’t think you’re ready but we’re literally out of time.”

“Why so twitchy, witchy?”

“Teenagers are brutal. They’ll boo anyone and that kind of public humiliation will stick with you for life.”

“You look nice. Strange, but nice.”

“Honestly, I’m kind of amazed with how fearless you are.”

“You’ve done things I could never do.”

“Thing is, you’re sitting in my personal chitchat zone, which means you gotta talk.”

“I am a little weirdo.”

“You gotta pander.”

“Cheating a isn’t anything to brag about.”

“Well, can’t reason with crazy!”

“I’ve been talking for too long.”

“Feeling sentimental?”

“I love water.”

“I don’t know much about sports but I do know about sports movies.”

“What happens in the montage stays in the montage.”

“Not everything can be solved with a good attitude and a dope movie soundtrack.”

“Sorry, I just really love backstories.”

“You just destroyed your social life.”

“That’s such a stupid rule!”

“You’re not gonna show this to anyone, right?”

“I haven’t forgotten what you promised me.”

“Ahh, you’re a thorn in my side but you always dig your way into my heart.”

“Jeez, you’re morbid.”

“Ahh, it’s a fate much worse than death if you think about it.”

“Please don’t make me regret taking you here.”

“Love me a properly ventilated castle.”

“I spy with my little eye something coming this way!”

“I’m going away and I don’t know if I can come back this time.”

“And  ___, thank you, for being in my life.”

“I want her back as much as you do.”

“Don’t look at me like that, this is for your own good.”

“Ah farts, I got caught.”

“You understand, don’t you?”

“Please tell me that’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“To be great, you have to make sacrifices.”

“Ahh, ___, you chose the wrong side.”

“I like your spirit, but try that again and things won’t end well for you.”

“Go on, then. Go be a hero.”

“I may have lost but so have you.”

“I can teach you what I know, and what we don’t know we can learn together.”

[arrowflier]

Fic prompt: How do people who tangentially know Ian react when Gay Jesus goes viral? Do they reach out to Ian/the Gallaghers? Lip's college friends, Milkovich cousins, ROTC classmates, Kash and Linda ... Is Gus Pfender telling someone Gay Jesus was his brother-in-law for 4 seconds? :D

I Heard it Through the Grapevine

“This is a pretty new one,” Gus Pfender said into the mic, sitting onstage at a little bar on the outskirts of New York City. “About a girl I knew a while back. A girl that was totally crazy, you all know the type.” He paused and waited for the knowing laughter to die down.

“No, but really though, she was!” he continued, idly tapping on the neck of his guitar as he talked. “She got me to marry her and everything, then slept with her ex, then tried to marry some other guy before we were even separated! Can you believe that?”

The laughter was more awkward that time, but he didn’t notice.

“Anyway, turns out she came by crazy honestly, runs in the family or something.” Even his band mates were starting to get a little antsy behind him, but he wasn’t quite done throwing his ex under the metaphorical bus.

“Yeah, get this—her little brother started a cult, called himself Gay Jesus or somethin’. Just saw him on the news—he blew up a van!” Gus laughed so hard he almost fell off his stool, but the audience was quiet.

The drummer cleared his throat behind him, and Gus finally got with the program, righting himself and coughing into the mic before saying, “Anyway, here it is; sing along loud if you know it, maybe she’ll hear us all the way back in Chicago.”

And he launched into the opening chords of “Fuck You Fiona”.

In the audience, Mandy Milkovich straightened up at the first round of Fiona’s name echoing around the dimly lit room. Her date—well, her client—touched her arm, and she jerked away before she could remember herself. Remember that she was supposed to like being touched, now.

“Sorry,” she simpered at the short older man, putting her hand on his when he let it fall to the table between them. “You just surprised me, hun.”

She smiled at him sweetly, pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth until it hurt. “Be right back,” she promised him quickly, before standing and grabbing her purse from the back of her chair. “Just need to go freshen up for you.”

She cringed as she said it, but it had the desired effect, the man just waving her away as he turned his attention back to the stage just in time for the rousing chorus of “fuck you”.

As soon as the bathroom door slammed shut behind her, Mandy was leaning over the sink, breathing heavily. Chicago. Fiona. Crazy family. Little brother.

Ian.

She fumbled in her purse for her phone, a sleek black thing that one of her more dedicated clients had bought for her. She swiped past the homescreen that he had set to a picture of the two of them, and opened up her browser.

Ian Gallagher she typed in, holding her breath as the results of the search loaded.

It came out in a single whoosh when she saw it, leaving her limp against the dirty porcelain.

Chicago’s Ian ‘Gay Jesus’ Gallagher Charged with Arson and Destruction of Property read the very top headline. Mandy skimmed the rest through the tears that filled her eyes, not daring to let them fall.

Ian Gallagher, middle child of six, pled guilty by reason of insanity at his trial last week, claiming his unmedicated bipolar disorder was the reason for his irrational behavior.

Oh god, Ian.

Last time she saw him, Ian had his shit together. He had a job, and a boyfriend, and he was taking his meds, and he kept her calm and helped her deal with a fucking body and gave her a place to stay for the night. What had happened since then? How had things gone so wrong for him again?

She didn’t know. She needed to know. She needed to know that he was okay.

Mandy bit her lip, mind racing as she considered her options. None of them were good. Mickey was gone. She didn’t speak to the rest of her family. She could call Iggy, or Colin she supposed, but she wasn’t even sure they weren’t in jail themselves. Besides, if they weren’t, she didn’t want Terry overhearing.

With shaking hands, she dialed a number she had been pretending she didn’t know, instead. A number that she had been trying her best to forget.

Phillip Gallagher picked up on the very first ring.

“Yeah, alright. No, I know, Mandy. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted.”

Lip sighed as he pressed the end call button, rubbing a hand over his face. Joaquin, sitting next to him, blew a stream of smoke in Lip’s face until he straightened again, coughing.

“The hell was that for, asshole?” he asked, waving the smoke away. “You know how much shit I’m gonna get if Tami smells that on me?”

Joaquin snorted. “Still can’t believe you shacked up with your baby-mamma, man,” he teased. “You have a kid now, what the fuck?”

“Yeah, well,” Lip muttered, reaching over to steal the joint right out of his hand despite his warnings about the smell. “A lot of things have changed since the last time I saw you.”

No shit. The last time Joaquin had seen Lip Gallagher, he’d been helping him steal money from the high-end startup Lip was working for. Then he’d just disappeared, only to wander into the little cafe where Joaquin liked to take lunch just a few days ago. They’d been catching up a little bit each day since, but Joaquin’s head was still spinning trying to equate this short-haired, run-down family man with the brilliant guy he knew back in the day.

“So, who was that?” Joaquin pried. “Who’s Mandy? You two-timing your girl already, Gallagher?”

“Fuck no,” Lip exclaimed, nearly spitting out the joint. Joaquin snatched it back immediately—the Gallagher he knew never would have risked the good stuff like that.

“No,” Lip repeated more calmly. “I uh, used to date her,” he revealed. “Before I knew you. But that was a long time ago.”

Joaquin nodded. “So what’s she callin’ you for then?”

Lip rubbed at his lip—Joaquin giggled in his head at that thought—and went quiet for a long moment. Joaquin just sat by him and smoked, content to wait it out.

“She was asking about my brother,” Lip answered finally. “They were friends.”

“Which brother?” Joaquin questioned. “The janitor, or the crazy one?”

Lip eyed him oddly. “The janitor is the crazy one,” he said, but Joaquin shook his head.

“No, no,” he rambled, “the little guy, the one you thought was dealin’.”

“Carl?” Lip clarified, and laughed, fingers picking idly at the knee of his jeans. “Nah, Carl’s actually doin’ alright now, I think. It’s Ian. The one you met.”

“What’s goin’ on with him?”

Lip hesitated, and then, “You heard about Gay Jesus?” he asked, and Joaquin felt his eyes go wide. He almost dropped the joint himself this time.

“No way,” he breathed out. “That was him?” He gestured wildly. “With the kids, and the cult, and the van?”

“That was him,” Lip confirmed grimly. “Off his meds, we think. That’s what he says, at least.”

Joaquin whistled, and handed the joint back. “Think you need this more than me right now,” he said.

Lip didn’t disagree when he took it.

Linda looked up when a stranger entered her store, then promptly rolled her eyes and went back to her magazine. The kids were with the sitter and the store was practically empty, so there was no reason not to take some time for herself for once. A single stoner wandering around the aisles wasn’t that much of a concern.

Still, she kept an eye on him as he poked through what they had to offer. He wasn’t bad looking, despite his floppy hair and red-rimmed eyes—reminded her a little bit of a young Kash, even.

She promptly hated herself for thinking of her absent, no-good husband, and hated the stranger in the store for making her do it.

So when he finally came to the counter, holding two bags of chips and a Red Bull, she might have been just a tad ruder than normal.

“Put it on the counter,” she ordered gruffly when he just stood there, staring into space.

“Whoa, yeah, sorry, sorry,” he rambled, doing as he was bid. “Just came from visiting a buddy, guess I left my mind behind a bit, huh?” He giggled. A grown man just giggled in her store.

“Maybe you know them, the Gallaghers?” He continued while she rang him up. Her hands barely paused when she heard the name. That was a long time ago, and they didn’t come here anymore.

The stoner was still talking, though. “Man they’ve had some bad luck, you know?” He shook his head. “First with Lip’s stuff, now his brother again?”

Linda stilled, bag of chips still in hand.

“Which brother?” she asked despite herself. She shouldn’t care, but somehow she still did. That little shit had stolen her husband, got his boyfriend shot in her store, and bailed on her with no warning, but when he had been there, he had been good to her. Helped her run the store, even helped her with the kids if she begged. She’d been sad to hear it when he went off the rails, but the rumor around town was that he was doing better, now.

“The crazy red-haired one,” the stoner answered, and she guessed a rumor was all it had been. “They call him Gay Jesus now, he blew up a van and everything.”

“Ten seventy-five,” she told him, not commenting any more on the topic. It wasn’t her business.

But as the stranger walked out the door, leaving her to her magazine again, she considered sending some sort of basket to the Gallagher house. For old time’s sake.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t even notice the bell over the door ring a second time as someone else hurried out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Iggy Milkovich muttered to himself as he rushed off down the street away from the Kash’N’Grab, forgetting to even steal anything in his hurry.

Ian fucking Gallagher. Gay fucking Jesus. How had nobody around him seen that coming?

Iggy remembered when Ian was living with them, before he went crazy the first time. Or while he went crazy the first time? Who fucking knew, that kid was always off the rails if he thought taking up with Iggy’s kid brother right under Terry’s nose was a good fucking idea.

But there was that one time, when things were mostly still going good, when he remembered hearing Mickey talk to his boy about crashing some funeral. A funeral for a fairy soldier that Ian knew when he was going by his brother’s name out at bootcamp. They’d come home from that thing with Ian practically vibrating, bouncing off the walls with fury at the protest they had wandered into, and he had seen the way it made Mickey freak out.

Mickey was in Mexico now. Iggy knew that. Everybody fucking knew that, even if they pretended they didn’t. And it was a bad fucking idea for him to find out about this, for so many reasons.

But Iggy couldn’t do that to his brother. He couldn’t hide something like this. And if Mickey found out some other way, from someone else…well. There was no saying what stupid shit that fucker might do.

So when he got home, he hit the bong to calm his racing heart. Then he picked up the phone, and dialed a number he wasn’t supposed to know.

“Yeah, thanks Ig,” Mickey said into his burner phone. “I already knew.”

His partner for the day, some new cartel wannabe that got paired up with the Gringo to see how he managed the streets, gave him a weird look as he shoved the phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“Who was that?” the burly man asked, voice rough, and Mickey rolled his eyes.

“Your girlfriend,” he answered dryly. “Wanted to know if I had dropped your ass in the grave yet so we can go fuck in peace.”

The idiot looked like he actually believed it, and Mickey snorted.

“A fuckin’ contact, okay?” he revealed. “And none of your fuckin’ business ‘til you manage to climb the ladder past ‘basic bitch errand boy’, so get the shit and let’s get movin’.”

At least the moron followed instructions.

Mickey wiped a hand over his face while the other man’s back was turned, gathering himself. It was confirmed, then. First by those weird-ass rainbow shirts, and now by Iggy, who wouldn’t lie to him about something like that. Ian Gallagher had gotten himself in trouble, and Mickey wasn’t there to save him this time.

He sighed as his partner came back with the rest of the goods, and they set off to a new position on the next corner.

One way or another, it looked like Mickey Milkovich was going back to Chicago.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Jack Bass x Younger!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Bass's.

Notes:

I have no idea when this is supposed to be set. Just go with it.

I have two things to say about Jack in this gif, though. 1. Does he not know how to carry a tray. And 2. I love this statement, here. Its like 'Bart's Dead, Chuck. I can barely contain my joy, Chuck. Its taking all my willpower, Chuck, to keep a monotonous expression. Also Chuck I am carrying a tray, do you see this?'

Plot: Bart Bass decides to be his creepy fucking self (Not that Jack is exponentially better in any way but whatever) towards you, Chuck's best friend- but thankfully, Jack accidentally walks in on the scene and gives you a get out of jail free card.

Good old 'lesser of two evils' shit. I love stuff like that.

Warnings: BART BASS being predatory, and a bit of age difference (You and Jack. I'm going by actors ages though so there's only a, like, 11 year age gap between him and Chuck which is not that bad if you ask me). Sexual references.

~~~

Chuck looks from his phone, that's flashing Blairs name, to you and your big, wide eyes and lips mouthing 'Don't you dare', then to his father quietly tapping away on his phone on the couch a few feet away... then back at his phone.

"Charles- " You hiss, prepared to threaten his very existence but he cuts you off first- slipping off the bar stool beside you and heading for the hallway.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom."

Why am I friends with him again!? You think, but stay quiet and hope that Bart doesn't realise that you're back there despite having said hello to you earlier when he came in. You think, if you stay quiet like a mouse, he will forget your existence and keep texting until Chuck gets back- although, who knows how long he and Blair can go on for.

Depends what its about, honestly. If its about revenge or espionage... well, the conversation could last quite some time.

Should I just leave?

The impulse to run away is a strong one, as you sit there with your cheeks heating up and you start to feel nauseated. You never liked Bart Bass, from the moment you met him. Before that, actually. You had heard Chuck talking about him to Nate before you even became friends with them, and none of what you heard was good. And then you did meet him, one day when Chuck invited you over to do a school project. Or 'school project' as he so obnoxiously put it. You really did end up just doing a school project, though. Hence your friendship nowadays. Bart was creepy towards you even then, at 16 with terribly died hair and the wrong eyeshadow.

You've been very careful since then to never be alone with him like this. You would talk to him at parties if you were forced to, say hello to him when Chuck had you at his place and the man walked by, but that is the extent of your communication with the creep. Always, always, someone would be around. Chuck, mostly. But also staff, or Nate, or random fundraiser ladies, or Jack who Chuck the bastard never left alone with all willy-nilly like this, unfortunately, or Lily, or literally anyone else possible on the earth.

You've even hidden away in the men's bathroom, which is disgusting no matter how expensive the restaurant, with Nate before to get away from this man when Chuck once ditched you both at a dinner with him. And that's the story of how you got your first kiss, too, and it was from Nate Archibald. Hell yes.

That's how much this man makes you want to grab your bag and flee.

But you don't. You stay glued to your seat, super still, listening only to the tap-tap-tapping noises that Bart makes and the bump-bump-bump noises your heart is making right into your throbbing ears.

Until it stops.

Not the bump-bump-bumping, oh no. The tapping. And, nightmarishly, it's replaced by a groan and footsteps coming towards your turned back.

"Y/N," As soon as he says your name, his hands fall on your your shoulders and you literally jump under his touch. Shit- Shit- Fuck- what's happening- "I've been meaning to speak with you recently but Chuck- ah. Well you know him. He refused to share with me your telephone number. But I knew you'd turn up here at some point, so not to worry."

"Uh... right." You cant even force yourself to be your normal, cheery, polite self in this position. You just want him to get. off. of. you.

"Did you want a drink?" He asks, in that possibly cheery (But only because its slightly louder then his usual husk level) but mostly still scary voice he uses to convey emotion, letting go of you thankfully and rounding to the other side of the bar. You shake your head, though. He raises his brows, picking out a scotch for himself. "You don't drink? Shocking, seeing as you're friends with my son."

Oh I drink. You think, giving him a shrug. Just not in situations like this one. Also, what must he think of Chuck? Jesus Christ. For sure, your boy likes debauchery but what's wrong with that?

"Well, I like that." Bart pauses before pouring his drink, to appreciate you. "Mature."

Damn it. It makes your skin absolutely crawl.

"So... " You take a deep breath, tucking your hair back behind your ears rather then ruffling it back like you usually would to get it out of your face- lest that be recognised as some kind of extremely subtle form of flirting. God, fear makes you think weird things. "What did you want to discuss?"

"Oh- Just, your future. Where are you going to school? Will you be sticking close to us?"

Us? US? No, I'll be far far away, from you.

You don't really want to tell Bart where you're going to be going to school, because in your fear addled brain you know that that will just lead to 'Which campus?', or 'Where will you be staying?' and you really don't want it to go there.

You're just taking another, shakier deep breath, when the front door of the apartment opens and shuts loudly and set of feet trample down the hallway towards you. Immediately total relief plashes over you and you wipe your face. Oh, thank god.

Jack Bass appears in the doorway to the living room, looking as put-together yet somehow simultaneously still totally relaxed, as always, and forces aa polite smile onto his handsome face. "Brother. Y/N? Its good to see you."

You have no idea. "Good to see you too Jack. Uh- Chuck's in the bathroom."

"Thanks. For that... enlightening, information, Y/N. I needed that." You cheeks flare up in embarrassment, but ultimately you just roll your eyes as Jack flashes you a subtle wink, and turns promptly to his - much, - older brother. "Bart."

The older brother in question looks less then pleased at his baby brothers appearance in his home. Right now. And he possibly isn't thrilled about that little wink, either. Like you two are in on some kind of joke together. "Jack... What are you doing here?"

"Simmer down, bro. Just visiting." Even you know that that excuse is weak, but anything that comes out Jack's own monotonous voice right now is blessed where you're concerned so you certainly don't say anything. Or make any faces, which would be more appropriate. "Y/N, I don't think Bart-man here's too happy about my presence." Hm, no. You'd have to agree with that observation- not that you've looked up at Bart since Jack came in. You wont risk it. Jack glides through the room with the practised grace of a man who's lived 3 quarters of his life in suits and the other, happier quarter in board shorts, and ends up right next to your chair, an arm resting on the bench in front of you.

If you weren't already so nervous about Bart, you would blush about Jack.

"At least tell me you're glad to see me."

You grin, which is less forced then you thought it would be prior to trying it. Damn, he's good. You think, realising he just swepped in here and made you comfortable in less then 50 words. "Always, 'Uncle Jack'."

"Oh," He groans, like it physically pained him to hear you tease him like that. A tiny smirk even slips through his usually emotionless - well, not emotionless. He has one standing colour, that being sly, - stone statue of a face. "'Uncle Jack'- Please, stop. I'm barely a decade older then you."

That's enough to make anything else possible, inappropriate. Unfortunately. "Hey, I said I'm glad to see you." You wink, a bit sly yourself. "Count your blessings."

His grin widens a bit, like the dangerously charming Cheshire cat-type that he is. Genes that Chuck inherited, clearly, if his track record with girls say anything at all, but that Bart obviously missed out on. "You've got a point."

"She's a remarkable young woman." Bart pipes up, making your stomach tie itself up in knots again, and you immediately revert your gaze to your lap. Remarkable young woman... you want to barf. "Who, I was actually having a conversation with before you burst in here, unannounced." He takes a slow sip of his drink, then mutters. "And uninvited."

"Well that's great." Jack straightens up, clapping his hands together and finally showing his teeth in a smile. They're really freaken white, compared to his skin, deeply tanned by the hot Australian sun. "A visit would be kinda uncomfortable without a conversation; I'll join. I can converse with the best of 'em, Bart. I assure you."

"It was private." The old man sneers, thinking that he's got the upper hand on Jack, and all you can do is hope to god that he's wrong.

Jack turns his head back to look at you, and you meet his gaze tentatively. Your eyes scream, 'Please don't leave me alone with that guy'. He promptly looks back to Bart. "Well Bart why don't we ask the lady in the room what she wants? We are gentlemen here aren't we?" Then Jack makes a face, all crumpled up and unsure, for a moment. "Err. Well actually... 'gentleman' might be a bold faced lie. We'll ask anyway. Y/N! Do you mind if I weigh in here?"

"Not at all." You say quickly, flashing a tiny, thankful smile. He gives you another wink- this time actually subtle. So Bart didn't see it. Your smile gets a little bit bigger, relaxing. He's got you.

"Great." You watch him pull out the stool beside you, that Chuck - who has still not returned from his phone call with Blair. You assume some, likely cruel vengeance must be involved. Possibly involving that Humphrey guy, - had vacated and settles down in it. He then sets his arms firmly on the bench and looks up attentively at Bart, not breaking eye contact with him. Boy these Bass's like their stare downs. "So?" He prompts, expectantly. And a little arrogantly- a Bass speciality that you truly don't mind at all. "What's on the agenda, today?"

Bart glares heatedly, back.

~

Throughout the awkward discussion between the three of you, which your good friend Chuck has yet to return to discover - at this point you're resigned to him having climbed out the window and scaled the building probably, - , Jack constantly, skilfully changes the subject for you whenever Bart rears to close to somewhere uncomfortable. He makes jokes that make you laugh, he nudges you with his elbow at times - but never touches you any more then that, although you honestly wouldn't mind it if he did, - and takes the attention off you a lot. At times you truly thought you saw steam come out of Bart's ears.

When finally Bart gives up and excuses himself, saying he as an early dinner with Lily, you feel exhausted and relieved. After the door swings shut behind him, you cover your face with your hands and deeply sigh.

"So, what was that about? You looked like a trapped mouse. I recognise that look, I invented that look." You pull back slightly from your hands and glance over at him, to see him thoughtful for a moment. "Well, not by making it. By... causing... it... Either way, it was not good." He shakes his head, taking a sip of his own drink - scotch, - that he made Bart pour for him; Raising his eyebrows at you for an explanation over the rim of the glass.

Jack's always been great, like this. Even when he was horrible, he was the lesser of two evils between him and Bart. Good for a laugh and quality eye candy in a pinch- and that counts for a hell of a lot when it comes to surviving Bart Bass and the Upper East Side. And he had the power and pull of an adult, but knew what the hell was going on like one of you.

So he always made you feel at ease.

You ruffle your hair back, and sigh, straightening your back finally from their hunched over position they live in when you're uncomfortable and pushing back your shoulders. "He was just, saying some weird stuff... and Chuck disappeared to talk to Blair." At that, Jack nods in total understanding. Like ah, yeah. Got ya. Finally, you shrug. "He just makes me really uncomfortable. No offence, but I hate your brother."

As you watch Jack's eyes don't even flicker; He's totally on board with what you've said. Then he finishes the rest of his scotch in one gulp. "Ahh- I hate him too."

"As do we all." Chuck's voice suddenly pops up, as he appears in the doorway like Jack had earlier. You have to practice some serious self control so as to not laugh, at Chuck so coincidentally turning up again at the perfect moment to proclaim his hatred for his father. Jack grins back at Chuck coldly, nodding. Yeah. "Anyway, Y/N, I apologise but I'll be having to abandon you. Blair's waiting for me at her, empty, apartment." He pauses for a moment for dramatic effect, in perfect Chuck Bass fashion, and you roll your eyes, grinning. Jack smirks. "But you're welcome to stick around a while and help yourself to the amenities All on my tab, of course. Good to see you again, Jack." Then he pockets his phone and heads toward the door. The second Bass of the day leaves the building.

"Bye, nephew!" Jack waives as the elevator doors close behind Chuck then swiftly turns around back to you, to which you raise your eyebrows. "So, what do we do now?"

"I dunno." Shrugging you grin and turn your stool to angle your legs towards Jack. "When Chuck says those magical words 'All on my tab'," Those words, oh; You speak them with just as much raw, breathy sexual arousal as the man himself would. As the words demand. 'All on my tab'. Good lord, sex if they were words. "I tend to take advantage."

"An easy girl to please; That's what I like to see." Your cheeks flame up at those words out of Jack's mouth as he turns to look down at the room service menu. Yes, Jack Bass has toed the line, between platonic and flirtatious since the very moment you met the man... but that seemed a little bit more then toeing the line.

And you get a far different reaction to him doing it then you do the other Bass brother.

You don't even really mind the implications of his words.

"You're staying back with me?" You ask, feeling hopeful at the idea.

"Yeah well, I cant in, uh, good conscience," He makes a bit of a show to you, of pressing his hand to his chest totally earnestly as those words 'good conscience' come out of his mouth. "leave you here unguarded in case Bart comes back, can I? Besides, the way you said 'All on my tab'- man, you could sell moonshine at an AA meeting with that voice."

"Ha," You laugh, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. "Well, thanks."

"Oh. Don't thank me. You're just using what uh, your mama gave you. I actually encourage you totally, to do that more often- "

"No!" You exclaim, sighing in exasperation; But there is still a smile on your face you cant seem to shake. "For not leaving, today. When you walked in. It would've sucked if you had, not that I would've blamed you at all."

"Hey, just call me your knight in shining armour." He doesn't look up from the menu, flicking through it. Then turns to you with one of those beach boy/politician, toothless grins of his. "Besides you were automatically, my favourite person in the apartment. I mean, anyone with... uhhh- different, appendages to what I have, instantly gets a one-way ticket access to my rare bouts of chivalry. Now come over here, pick out what you want off here."

You just gape at him and that comment, making him stifle a laugh and return to the menu himself.

Bass's.

[captainjimothycarter]

Steggy detective

WIP MEME

Peggy knows she has an older brother, no matter what anyone tells her. The memories are there, fleeting but there. Her parents laugh it off whenever she used to bring it up, just telling her it's her 'overactive' imagination.

She finds proof of his existence through a deed for a lake house with a garden that her parents insisted didn't exist and an old photo of her young mother holding a baby boy.

Knowing no one will take her seriously without answers, she flies straight to America to begin her search. Straight off the plane, she goes to Red Hook Detective Agency: Detective Barnes and Rogers.

Most of what I've written is under the keep read

Ask Me More

Peggy gets to America and it was an 8 hour flight. The entire flight over, she’s rehearsed a script in her head over and over again to ensure what she had to say to the detectives is perfect and down flat. Jet lag is wearing her down, but she ignores it and makes a straight bee line to the agency.

The door is slightly ajar when Peggy comes down the hallway, voices being thrown around in the echo. 

“Get out. I said get out! You’re lucky I’m not shooting you on the spot.” 

Peggy barely moves out of the way in time as a man is thrown out by the scruff of his neck. She watches over her shoulder as he scrambles away, turning back to come face-to-face with a 6′0 broad blonde that looked as if he should be a model, not a detective. He wears black-rimmed glasses and an over sized sweater that makes him look like he should be tending to a fire, ready to sit down with a glass of whiskey and an old book. 

They stare at one another for a long beat before Steve raises a brow. “I apologize. I didn’t know we were having visitors. Steve Rogers.”

Peggy shakes his hand and gives a nervous smile, but shoves the nervous energy down to focus on the core of the problem. “Peggy Carter. Do I need to ask what’s that about down there? Surely if you’re threatening to shoot someone, it’s better to just do it.”

Steve laughs, the sound is unexpected by Peggy. It’s pleasant in the manner he laughs, throwing his head back, hand on his chest and smiling. That smile could light up a morgue if you asked her. “That guy? Nah. He’s a bothersome, but nothing worth going to jail over. Long story. Why don’t you come in, Miss Carter?”

The way Steve looks at her over the rim of his glasses, it makes Peggy feel like he’s looking straight to her soul. As if the documents in her tote and the knowledge floating around in her head is useless because Steve already knows. Instead of pressing for answers, Peggy obliges and slips inside the homey office. Steve sets her up with a cup of coffee, the brunette thanking her savior for a warm, caffeinated beverage. 

“Did you just come straight from a flight? You look exhausted.” Peggy rose her brow, the question of how on her tongue until Steve laughed again. “You still have your passport clenched in your hand.”

Oh, so she did. Peggy looked down at the leather surface before finally opening her fingers to shove it inside the tote bag. “I did, actually. I couldn’t risk waiting a second nor could I risk sending an email. I’ve done my research, Mr. Rogers. You and Barnes are some of the most successful detectives known to date and well beloved - especially on several forums.”

It was his turn to look rather impressed, leaning back in his chair and tapping his fingers on the weathered, leather arms. “So it seems you have done your research. Well, what is it, doll? If you came here straight from a flight, then it must be something desperate.”

If that term doll had come from someone elses’ lips, Peggy might’ve slapped them or at least made some remark but not to Steve. Because she needed his help and selfishly, she liked the term falling from his lips. “You’re right. I’m desperate because I’ve ran out of hope. I left the only home I knew and my parents because I cannot stand to live this lie anymore. Because I know I’m right and I’m determined to see this end.”

Taking out the files, Peggy spreads out her minimal evidence on Steve’s desk. The deed to the lake house, photos from several old albums that she’d found in boxes, photos of just her, and at last, the only photo of Michael Carter. 

“This is my brother,” Peggy explained, looking into Steve’s baby blue eyes. “I know this sounds insane but please, hear me out. I know this is Michael. I have memories of Michael, distant memories of being a toddler and little kid. Him teaching me things my mother and father did not teach me. Us being at that very home for years. Yet, my parents insist he does not exist. They insist that I’m imagining him and say its my overactive imagination. But that photo right there proves he’s not imaginary and I’m not wrong. I-I know this sounds far fetched, Mr. Rogers and something straight out of some mystery novel, but I need to know what happened to my brother. Why are my parents trying to hide him?”

Steve was quiet as he regarded the evidence, picking up the photos and turning them over to study the handwriting. Finally, he sat the photo of Michael down and scooted everything back to her. Across the table, Peggy looked heartbroken, terrifyingly heartbroken. 

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll take the case, but you-” Steve actually waved his index finger in her direction, a serious look in his eyes. “You are going to rest before we deal with any of this. I have a room you can use while you stay here. I can imagine you don’t have lodgings set up and limited funds and if your parents are hiding such a thing from you, they didn’t want you finding answers, so you didn’t want to risk taking their money. Smart.”

There’s a relief flooding Peggy. Tears burning her eyes as she clutches the photo of her brother to her chest. The only photo that proves she’s not going insane. She tries to stutter a reply, to show Steve how thankful she is, but nothing comes out beyond a few soft sobs. It’s all she can do just to nod.

Steve regarded her with a soft, motherly look. He patted her shoulder as he walked around the desk and picked up his coat. “Come on. You need a good night's sleep and some dinner in you. Not necessarily that order. There’s a diner down the street we can hit up. They have the best shakes, they’re to die for.”

[pixiedoodlein]

10 days until school and I’m no more decided than I was a week ago. I flip flop ten times day about what might be best. A is sick of hearing me talk about it. He doesn’t disagree with my risk assessment but he is sick of talking about it.

It caused an issue with his friend, a friend who is his best friend and is unvaccinated and works in a jail. Months ago we told friend he could only visit (this place is their boyhood dream) once he’s vaccinated. Friend typically believes in science and is very health conscious but his gf is a moron Trump lover and her family the same and that’s who he’s been spending all his time with since this all started. When I asked friend why he’s not vaccinated he said he’s young & healthy, didn’t trust the vaccines, would do it when they got full fda approval. Plenty of young healthy people are dead of this. Anyway then I asked ok so what if you give it to someone who isn’t and dies, people incarcerated in the jail he works in and don’t have the luxury of social distancing, and he was like eh whatever. So yes friend is an asshole, but his best friend for decades, friend has always been kind of an asshole but has many redeeming qualities too. So we said no visit. But then in July when there was no covid here and no covid where he lives and we were blissfully living our covid free lives we loosened up and said he could visit with two negative tests. But then covid got bad again and when asshole friend contacted A the other day to say he took time off in late Sept to visit, A said sorry, it’s fully fda approved now you have no excuses not to vaccinate, we’re worried about our unvaccinated kids, and as of now you can’t visit but hey maybe if you get vaccinated and the numbers look better we can reassess in a month and you can come. Friend was a total dick about it, didn’t understand our point of view at all, stressed A about it, who was in a bad mood about it for days afterward.

Then there’s the neighbors. I had a chat with the kids and a chat with the mom. I framed it as we love them so much and I know they’re careful but I think we should all be more careful while the numbers are so rising (aka only outdoor hangouts) and we are careful but I’ve heard terrifying stories from doctor friends about kids and babies getting very sick, and they have a baby who I don’t want us to make sick, and she said she agreed. The kids have been pretty good about making the adjustment from constant sleepovers to playing outside but M keeps asking me “the kids need to pee are they allowed to use the bathroom, the kids are hungry are they allowed to come inside even for one minute for a snack,” and I feel like the villain (I’ve been saying yes to pee, snacks I’ll bring out). Everyone’s been understanding but nobody is getting what I mean when I say only outdoor socializing. All the kids keep asking me when I’ll take them to town again for ice cream, “but it’s outside” (um yeah but the car’s not), asking their mom to ask me for sleepovers even though they know what the answer will be. The other day they were playing in our yard then it started raining and they were like “we can’t walk home in the rain”- I don’t want them to walk home in the rain, but again the car is indoors!- so I drove them home (but made M stay at our house). They’re not my kids so I can’t make them wear masks and it feels like now I am in the position of being the mean parent who’s psycho about covid, which in a way I am, but it would help me to stick to my guns and feel okay about sticking to them if the government policies matched the severity of the situation, ie mask mandates in public places (instead of stores posting polite recommendations), vaccine mandates, virtual learning options, etc.

Which brings me to school. After selling M hard on real school, then I sold her hard on home school. She already “did” 3rd grade last year (as much as me teaching her in my pajamas counts as doing), but this district has an earlier cut off than the city, so she’s in 3rd grade again here. Which is fine by me- her birthday is the same day as the very late nyc cut off (12/31) and I hated that she was the absolute youngest. I used to beg the school to hold her back and they’d say “but why she’s doing so well!” not understanding that I was thinking ahead to the teen years. But anyway, despite her haphazard pj’d professor, she seemed to learn a lot last year so homeschool this year could basically be unschool. She’d traipse around the forest identifying birds and trees with A and her brother, reading for pleasure, and I’d spend an hour here and there reviewing some worksheets with her so she’d be on track when she starts real school after she gets vaccinated. She was into the idea, until she found out she and one of the neighbor kids are in the same class. Now she absolutely wants to go to real school, AND ride the school bus. The school bus part makes me very nervous. While there is now a school mask mandate (but will it be enforced? what are their lunch procedures, what % of teachers are vaccinated, what % of the older kids in the same building as the little kids are vaccinated, did they actually really update their ventilation system?) and a bus mask rule, it’s a long rural route (15 min drive or 45 min bus) and I have no faith that bus windows will be open and all riders will be masked the whole time.

So just tell her she can go to school but has to be driven by a parent, right? Not so simple. I was offered a job at a (somewhat, commuting distance) nearby nonprofit- an easy low stress job in a bastion of liberalism with very very nice smart coworkers, excellent work life balance, a writing job that sounds made for me, like the job description is exactly what I would put together if I were putting together my dream job (except the pay, which is half what I was making at a fancy DC nonprofit, but high for this area, and our housing cost is half so it should be fine if A can get away from little guy long enough to bring in some money too). It’s mostly remote but approx one day a week in the office and some days there will be things I need to attend out in the community (not necessarily our community, they serve the whole region). It won’t always be the same day in the office and the office is an hour away- so on those days A would have no car to get her to and from school, since I’d need to leave before school starts and get home after it’s done. So I guess we need to buy a new car? Aside from this issue we really don’t need a second car now, were planning to get one eventually, but not until A’s business has enough projects to justify the cost.

Despite its many demands/challenges/ stressors, home school is sounding easier to me at this point (especially because she already did this grade), except she WANTS to go to school. Someone talk me out of putting some lipstick and a pantsuit on her and taking her to get vaccinated. I know, I know: the 5-11 dosage is 1/3 of the 12-adult dosage. The doctors I’ve spoken to are split on this hypothetical kamikaze mission. The doctors I’ve spoken to are also split on me and A going to a pharmacy now for booster. It’s been almost 6 months since our 2nd dose. We do not have compromised immune systems. This county has way more doses than demand and I would feel better sending M to school (bus or not) if we had our boosters and she had a first dose- moral and scientific quandaries aside- because there is A LOT of covid here now, a lot of covid everywhere now, and I feel like we are returning to regular life at the time when we should be most hunkered down.

Which brings me to the data. Per capita there are as many known cases here as in nyc, except nyc has a 50% higher vax rate, much more mask usage, better medical system. People are not getting enough tests here, there is a higher positivity rate, and so I think the actual number of cases is much higher than the reported number of cases. It seems like, friends here and in the city and in the suburbs (I just broke up with a friend in the suburbs because she professes to be a good democrat but is hosting a bonafide super spreader event and vacationing in a place with 39% positivity and a collapsed health care system), are thinking of covid as something you catch from strangers- they wear masks in stores- but aren’t careful at all around close friends and family (so many extended family gatherings, so many, cousins and grandparents and half-siblings and aunts and uncles and whoever), when this is a disease that kills via the people you love most, the ones who’d never intentionally hurt you.

[popcornpeppermint]

Brother, Brother (Part 1)

Keigo can’t exactly remember when he agreed to his brother moving in. Maybe it was one drunken night. Or maybe his brother manipulated him. Shinyo has always been good at that. Right along with stealing and getting into trouble with the law. Keigo can’t even count on his toes and hands how many times he had to bail the idiot out of jail.

And each time he risks his career.

It was all over the news. Again. Keigo couldn’t find himself to be surprised anymore. If it’s not robbing banks, it’ll definitely be something else that he has to smooth talk his way into keeping the idiot from going to prison.

He wasn't dealing with his big brother's issues and he definitely refuse to. If he gets locked up, so be it.

So why did he answer his cell phone when it rang?

"Hey! Baby chirps! Wanna pick up your big bro?"

And why did he fly all the way across town, risking his hero career to get his idiot big brother out of jail... again...

"Come on, Kei, quit your poutin'" Shinyo said, popping open a can of warm beer he snagged from some sleeping old guy. Tasted like warm piss to him but, hey, a drink is a drink. Keigo bit his tongue, trying hard not to grill his brother. But he so would have deserved it.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Shinyo!?" He found himself snapping. "You are putting my career on the line you idiot!"

Shinyo blinked at the other. A wide, cocky grin spread on his lips.

"Suck it, baby-feathers."

Keigo stared at him.

"I am so going to fucking kill you one day."

“Well, can we go home now? I’ve been in that fucking jail cell all night. I smell like ass and need a shower.”

Keigo sighed in defeat. Maybe it was his hero instincts wanting to save him? Maybe it was the idea that Shinyo protected him from their abusive parents that made him feel like he owed the other his life? He didn’t know so he couldn’t find himself to argue or even lecture Shinyo. Dumbass won’t listen anyways.

“Shinyo,” he said with a tired sigh. “You’re running through my money with these bails. There’s only so many times that I can do this.”

Shinyo looked at his little brother, ruby eyes holding something similar to guilt. Or maybe he was drunk again?

“Sorry, baby-feathers,” he said, pulling the beer can from his lips. He looked down at his shoes, actually looking ashamed for once. “It won’t happen again.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Keigo said turning on his heel, wings spread. “Now lets get going. I have a press conference in a bit and I don’t want to be late.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shinyo said tossing the can over his shoulder. “I want to go home and sleep anyways. Have you ever had a hairy ass old man try to cuddle you?”

“Er, no?”

“Good, keep it that way,” Shinyo said with a grunt before taking off into the sky.

Keigo sighed with a light chuckle. Fucking Shinyo.

--

It was a long day. Dealing with Shinyo, the media and Endeavor’s temper tantrums. Keigo felt his body finally give in to exhaustion. He barely made it to the couch before flopping down with a tired but relieved sigh. Not soon after his nose was greeted with the scent of a burning cigarette.

“I thought I told you no smoking in the apartment,” he mumbled with is arms thrown over his eyes.

“Not in the apartment,” Shinyo’s gruff voice echoed in his ears. “I’m outside. The door’s just open.”

Keigo peeked from under his arms. Shinyo stood there, arms crossed over his chest, leaning on the door frame with a raised brow. The cigarette glowed a bright orange on the tip when he inhaled, dangling from his lips.

“You look like shit,” he stated.

“Thanks,” Keigo half-hearted said. “Was a busy day, what do you expect?”

The room fell into a pregnant silence, the sound of Shinyo exhaling smoke and the scent chased after it.

“Wanna talk about it?” he finally said after a few minutes of awkward silence. “I’m no good at this shit but at least I can listen.”

“The Commission is on my ass a lot lately,” Keigo said while sitting up, rubbing the back of his neck. “No better since you keep getting into trouble. They care about images, you know?”

“Fuck ‘em,” Shinyo shrugged while stomping out his finished cigarette. “Fuckers can lick your balls. They’re nothing without you.”

“Like you fucking know anything,” Keigo hissed.

“I know that they bought my fucking brother off of my stupid ass parents like he’s some two-dollar whore!” Shinyo snapped. “Fucking seriously, Kei? You’re gonna defend them, again!?”

“I’m not defending them and I am not having this conversation with you again,” Keigo said with gritted teeth. He stood up, heading in the direction of his bedroom. Shinyo held his arm out, grabbing his shoulder to stop him from passing.

“I said not now, Shinyo!”

“Fuck that noise!” Shinyo yelled. “Fucking talk to me, damnit!”

“I can’t!” Keigo yelled back.

“Says who!? Your fucking owners!?”

“Get out.”

Shinyo looked taken aback, blinking as he tried to comprehend what Keigo just said.

“Wait, what?”

“Get the fuck out. Now Shinyo!” Keigo barked. “You’re in and out of jail, eat all my damn food, don’t have a job but always want to spend MY money and you’re making me look bad! Get out! I don’t give a fuck where you go but it can’t be here!”

Shinyo raised a brow.

“You fucking kidding me? Throwing a tantrum now of all times?”

“Shinyo-”

“Fine, I’ll leave. Whatever. It's not like I plan of staying any longer anyways. I’ll get my shit and leave.”

He brushed Keigo’s shoulder roughly as he walked by. “By the way, some guy named Dabi called your cell earlier.”

“You had my cell phone!?” Keigo exclaimed, patting his pockets. “How?”

“Master of pick-pocketing, bitch,” Shinyo said, pulling the phone from his pocket. “You don’t use your personal at work anyways.”

“Shinyo, you-”

“Here,” he tossed the phone. “Give him a call back. Seemed important.”

Keigo caught it as he watches Shinyo grab his things.

“So, heading out little bro,” Shinyo said with a two-finger salute and a wink. “Heading out now. Goin’ over to my friend’s place. I’ll wait until your period’s over to come back. See ya.”

He took off before Keigo could say anything.

He stood there in the quiet apartment. Alone.

His phone buzzed with a text message. He knew it was from Dabi and chose to ignore it. He wasn’t going out tonight. He needed rest. All of the rest he could get before his brother returned.  

He undressed and slid under the sheets with a relieved sigh. He wanted to forget about the world. About his career. About his brother. He slowly fell into a fitful sleep.

[arctimon]

*insert witty title involving Momakase here*

(Warning: This post is long.)

So I never actually shared this theory outside of DeviantArt, and it was also part of a greater post of predictions for the show. But now that I've essentially had a year to sit on it, and can now better illustrate my points, hopefully I can make it clearer. Today, on the "Big Hero 6 Conspiracy Theories" Podcast with Arctimon, we're going to be talking about...Momakase.

“But Jason, you’ve already talked about Momakase and her comparisons with Lady Deathstrike!” You are correct, imaginary person I made up for the purposes of this conversation.  But we’re going to go a little deeper this time.

However, before we get into Momakase, let’s talk about someone else for a hot second.  And that person’s name is Ana Cortés. Now, if you’ve read my stories, that name may seem familiar to you: it’s the alias that Momakase uses when seducing the rich guy at the end of "The Usual Suspects” (Chapter 9 of Continuity II).  But what if I told you that the name isn’t just an alias to her?  What if it’s her real life? But let’s chat about the Prime Marvel Universe Ana Cortés.

The character was only around for four issues back in the 2013 run of X-Men, when the all-female team was being led by Storm.  She made her first appearance in Issue #7, being introduced as the daughter of a recently-deceased Colombian businessman.

Being the head of a billion-dollar company wasn’t enough for young Ana, so she recruited a Yakuza member named Reiko to bring her the consciousness of Lady Deathstrike, who had recently been killed.  That, along with the nanites that she would later be given, gave Deathstrike a new young body, capital to boot, and a quest to make a new Sisterhood to topple the X-Men.

Which ultimately lead to Ana/Yuriko’s new look...

Through the next four issues, Ana would recruit others into her new Sisterhood, such as Amora the Enchantress, Typhoid Mary, Selene, and Madelyne Pryor, with them ultimately achieving their goal: to bring back to life a sentient bacterium named Arkea and declare war on mutants and humans.

As the plan progressed, Ana started getting cold feet, fearing what Arkea wanted to do and hating what she had become.  So, in Issue #11, after pleading with Typhoid Mary to finish her life...

She decides to take her own.

And thus the life of Ana Cortés came to an end.

So what does this have to do with Momakase? Well...everything. Momakase’s history is a mystery (unintentional rhyming).  The only clear thing that we know about her past is her family in an indirect way, courtesy of “Hiro the Villain” and her recruiting him to get her family swords back from Yama:

The katana and the wakizashi seem very important to her, so much so that she would risk breaking into Yama’s penthouse to get it and getting Hiro to come along with ehr.  Unfortunately, this is never expanded upon because this is the last speaking part of Momakase in the show before the series finale in “The Mascot Upshot”.

We know that her father gave them up because they were being threatened by gangsters.  We don’t know how long ago that was, but since Momakase mentions that the swords are “the last connection to her family”, we can deduce that they’re probably not in the picture any more.

(By the way, if anyone can decipher what that emblem is suppose to be, knock yourself out.)

But as we all know, apples don’t fall very far from trees.  And this is where we’re dealing with pure conjecture and guessing on my part.

I’ve written in my stuff about how Momakase started out in villainy at a young age.  Her first attempt at crime ended up with her being caught by Boss Awesome.  And she must have left an impression on him, because remember...he had a file on her in “Food Fight”.  So she must have been active at least a couple of decades ago, because Fred’s dad retired before Fred was born.

But what really led her to go down that path?  Perhaps the mash-up nature of this world could give us some insight. So imagine that your father is a Colombian handyman who had to work extra hard to support your immense family of brothers and sisters after his parents died.  Now imagine that your mother is a Japanese socialite and never had to lift a finger in her entire life.

Now imagine their fates intertwining.

The mother is immediately infatuated.  The father tries to rescue her from her life of artificial captivity.  They run off, elope, and in less than a year, they give birth to a wonderful daughter.

That daughter being you. Your elders, seemingly seen the error of their ways, gift the couple a pair of ceremonial daisho swords that have been in the family forever.  Life goes on. You witness the bullies of the world threaten your family.  You see their most cherished possession being taken away, and then you swear to yourself you won’t end up like that.  So, you get yourself involved in villianry.

And then years later, when it doesn’t seem like you can do anything right...you meet someone.

He’s a police officer, also in the infancy of his occupation.  He visits you in jail, talking on and on about how justice was served...but something else is there in his eyes.  Pity?  Interest?  Sadness?  All of that and more?

Once you get out, you visit him between heists.  He doesn’t know, of course.  You tell him you’ve gone straight.

But the more you stay with him, the more you feel yourself getting closer.

“But it wouldn’t work”, you say.  He’s a man of the law.  You’re a woman of lawlessness.  Both you and he come to the consensus that while things are good between you, it’s best to quit while the both of you are ahead.

Fate, of course, had other plans.

Life rears its beautiful and ugly head.  Your enemies come calling for you.  They want your debt paid.  And they’ll do anything to get it, including taking down your beloved...

And your newborn baby girl.

Of course, we all know who this certain “man of the law” is.

The person who suddenly had to leave San Fransokyo with no reason to the befuddlement of the people closest to him, including Aunt Cass. I mentioned before that it didn’t make sense that his father dying would be the reason why he had to leave San Fransokyo.  It would have to be something that needed to be kept away from public consumption.

Alternatively, what do you think would happen to the most hardnosed, relentless officer in the San Fransokyo force if word got out that he fathered a child with a criminal?

And what do you think would happen to her?

Megan is looking into it with the help of Kate (as of Loose Ends).  We’ve seen Diego and Momakase have this conversation in “Assembly Required”.  Heck, even Hiro seems to think something’s up when he talks to her in “Anti-Hiro”.

She doesn’t have any of her attributes.  She doesn’t have any tremendous thieving skills.  She has never interacted with the Cruzes in the show at all.  It’s the theory that, no matter how you look at it, doesn’t make a lick of sense at all.

And somehow it makes perfect sense to me.

Momakase, the woman whose real name is Anastasia “Ana” Momo Cortés...is Megan’s mom.

And that is a plot thread that I plan on tugging on even into The Future.

What was that about apples and trees?  They never seem to stray too far from each other...

[skycollides]

Hi bubba!❤️ I really hope you’re well and happy! I’m falling in love with your fics😍😍 your writing is honestly remarkable!! I wanted to request for ez if that’s okay? With “You love her don’t you?” “is it that obvious?” It can be an angsty or fluffy ending whatever you think fits best!! Thank you so much🥰❤️❤️

Hey sweetheart! Thank you for all the love and support from day one! I love and appreciate you❤️❤️

I really hope you enjoy this one 🥰😘

No risk no fun

Ez x Reader

Authors note: I apologize in advance for grammar mistakes

English isn’t my native language.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

Warning: swearing, a little heartache, happy end

Words: 1.981

Ez’s Pov:

Another night at the clubhouse. Another party takes place and Ez can’t take his eyes off you. From the moment you walked in he was practically hypnotized by your beauty which was pretty obvious to Angel.

’’Hey little brother!’’ no reaction from Ez.

’’Ey earth to Ezekiel’’ he says smacking his head. Ez’s hand finds its way to the spot Angel hit him rubbing it.

’’Ouch. What was that for Angel?’’

’’Since you weren’t reacting I had to do something to get your attention. It’s hard to catch nowadays when my sweet Y/n is in the same room. Oh and by the way it’s really starting to become obvious. Bishop noticed too. You love her don’t you baby brother?’’

’’Is it that obvious?’’ 

’’Well only me and Bishop noticed so it isn’t that bad but dude if you love her you gotta tell her. You know I have this thing going on with her best friend and she told me that there is this guy, co-worker of hers who’s trying to get her attention he already asked her for a date so you better step up your game before its too late.’’ Angel tells him.

’’Why the hell would I tell her and make things awkward when she’s already seeing this guy? I lost my chance it’s better that way. She deserves better than an outlaw biker who murdered a cop. If you excuse me now I need to get new beer.’’ with that being said Ez leaves Angel there standing by himself.

Angels Pov:

‘‘Hey Y/bf/n baby. Come here.’’ he says standing at the door of the clubhouse. She leaves you and Letty and heads outside with Angel.

’’What is it?’’

’’Listen I need you to be honest with me. Do you promise me to tell the truth I need to ask you something important?’’

’’Sure. Just tell me what’s up?’’

’’Does Y/n have feelings for my brother?’’

’’Angel I can’t’’

’’What do you mean you can’t? You fucking promised me. Please I beg you.’’

’’Fine. Yes , yes she does. Why?’’

’’Yes I knew it! That’s fucking awesome. Listen baby I need your help. Ez loves her. I’m surprised you didn’t notice him staring at her all the time. We need to make this happen. My baby brother deserves to be happy after everything he went through with Emily. You simply need to convince Y/n not to go to the date with that guy and leave the rest to me okay?’’

’’Okay Angel. I hope this is working out or otherwise she’ll have my head for spilling her business.’’

’’As if I would let that happen’’ he says and kisses her head happy with the new information he now has.

A week later

Your Pov:

’’C’mon Y/n your co-worker is boring as fuck! He won’t make you happy.’’

’’And Ez will?’’

’’You’ll never now if you don’t tell him. Cancel the goddam date and come to the clubhouse with me. No risk no fun. Do you want to send the rest of your life overthinking what could have been between the two of you? Seriously he’s such a sweet guy you’d be perfect for each other!

’’Okay you win.’’ you give in defeated knowing that you will not won this fight and she is right. You can’t win without taking a risk.

You reach your destination about an hour later. Y/bf/n has texted Angel letting him know you will be there soon so when you get there he is already waiting for you outside.

’’Hey baby’’ he greets your bf before giving you a hug.

’’Hey Angel’’ you say.

’’Is everyone here already?’’ your bf asks him and he nods.

’’Yeah the party is started a couple of hours ago. Some guys from other charters are here so are Vickys girls. Well not everyone Ez went to his trailer shortly before you arrived. So let's go inside girls.’’ he finishes his monolog

’’Actually’’ you start 

’’I gotta talk to Ez first you can go in.’’ you say and your cheeks heat up being happy it’s dark so they won’t notice.

’’Go on. We’ll be inside’’ your bf says and they walk to the porch waiting there for what’s to come. Which you don’t notice since you’ve turned your back towards them. You open the door without knocking and go in there.

’’Listen Ez I gotta-’’ you stop speaking at the sight in front of you Ez only in his boxers laying in his bad with one of Vickys girls barely covered.

’’Y/n I-’’ he starts but you interrupt him right away.

’’I’m so sorry I- I should have knocked. I’m sorry’’ you say with a shaky voice literally running out of the trailer slamming the door behind you, tears leaving your eyes.

The door opens again and Ez come out now at least waking jeans.

’’Y/n wait! He says but you’re already in your car driving off.

Ez pov:

He turns around and sees Angel and his girls standing there looking at him. 

’’Are we going to finish what we started or what?’’ he hears a voice behind him.

’’Leave!’’ he tells her and she does as she’s told.

’’Are you fucking serious?’’ he hears Angel yell while he walking towards him.

’’What?’’

’’What? That’s all that comes to your mind genius? Crazy that a guy who’s as dumb as you got into a university like Stanford. You’re a fucking idiot that’s what you are. I told my girl to talk Y/n out of that fucking date with that guy so you have a shot. She convinced her to tell you about her feelings and you’ve got nothing better to do than getting your dick wet? I seriously thought you love Y/n but I guess I was wrong. My fault that beautiful and smart girl git her heart broken.’’

’’I do love her man! I had no idea’’ he says realizing he probably made the biggest mistake of his life.

’’Then do something about it brother! FIGHT FOR HER as I fucking told you before!’’

’’Ez that’s the key to her apartment. Please don’t fuck this up I want to see my best friend happy’’

’’Thanks guys’’ with that we walks to his bike and drives off.

Your Pov:

As soon as you get home you drop your heals in the hallway going straight into your bedroom jumping into bed and crying into your pillow. You can’t remember the last time you were hurt like this. You really thought you had a shot with him but it looks like your were wrong. And so was your best friend. With your thoughts running wild and all the crying you don’t notice someone coming into to the room. You only notice when the mattress moves.

’’I told you y/bf/n I fucking told you look where it got me!’’ you say with your voice cracking. You turn around and can’t believe your eyes. It’s not here sitting on your bed. It’s Ez with the most apologetic look on his face.

’’Get the fuck out of here. NOW!’’

’’I wont leave until you listened to me Y/n. Look I’m sorry you had to see this. God I don’t even know where to start. I better start with the fact that I’m completely in love with you. Head over heals. I know it doesn’t really look like it right now but listen. Last week Angel caught me staring at you again. And he asked if I was in love with you. He told me about your date with your co-worker and I knew I will never save a chance with you. I mean who am I? A outlaw biker who got out of jail couple months ago

because he murdered a cop. I mean come on Y/n. That guy has a stable job and is not in conflict with the law. I though you were better off with someone like him. I knew I lost so I tried to get over you with one of Vicky girls. I swear nothing happened. I know it looks bad but I couldn’t. You were on my mind the whole time sweetheart. I stopped her right before you walked in. I swear. I know that probably wasn’t the brightest idea to be honest. 

What I’m trying to say Y/n. I love you. I love you so fucking much baby. You had me hypnotized the moment I laid my eyes on you for the first time. I was blown away by your smile and your beauty. And girl don’t get me started on those beautiful eyes. But that’ not the reason I fell in love with you. That’s a lie it is a part but the main reason is your character. You are the sweetest girl with the biggest heart I’ve ever met. You light up my world babygirl. Please let me make it up to you. Give me a chance to prove that to you.’’ he ends his little speech staring down at the mattress nit daring to look you in the eyes.

’’Ez?’’ you say softly. No reaction.

’’Ez, sweetie look at me’’ and he looks up to you.

’’First of all you are literally the biggest idiot I’ve met. Seeing you with her fucking hurt me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt hurt like this before. I’m glad you didn’t sleep with her by the way. Listen Ez I love you. I don’t care that you went to jail. I love you for who YOU are. You are so much more than an outlaw biker Ezekiel. You are such a wonderful human being. I chose to become your friend for a reason. I love being around you. I love that I can have deep conversations with you. I love that you listen to me not matter what time it is. I love your kind heart, your humor and your smile. I swear you got me with that smile. I’m glad you’re here right now. Thanks for stopping by and telling m the truth. I love you too Ezekiel Reyes.’’ you say with a smile and before you can say anything else he grabs you by your neck pulling your face to bis before pressing his lips onto yours. Your hand fins its way to his cheek caressing it with your thumb while EzS tongs asks for entrance keeping the kiss as soon as you allow him. You’re the first one to release his lips to get some air. He leans his forehead against yours smiling at you.

’’Wow’’ you say.

’’Wow indeed. I cant believe I missed out on those soft lips for so long. Be my girl mi amor?’’

’’I thought you’ll never ask’’ you say laughing.

’’Yes I’ll be yours babe.’’ you say and kiss him again.

’’You’re going to stay here right?’’ you ask him hoping the answer will be yes.

’’Yes just let me call Angel real quick then I’ll join you in bed sweetheart.’’ with that being said he gets up from the bed gets undressed and calls Angel while you head to the bathroom getting ready for bed. When you leave the bathroom he’s laying in your bed still on the phone with Angel.

’’Ill see you tomorrow Angel. Bye!’’ Ez ends the call and puts his phone on the nightstand while you get into bed. 

’’Everything okay?’’

’’More than okay baby. Y/bf/n won’t kill me I guess that’s a good sign if you ask me’’ he says and you laugh.

’’Yes she can get quite protective to be honest.’’ you say cuddling into his chest. He wraps his arms around you pulling you closer before kissing your head.

’’I love you Y/n’’

’’I love you too Ezekiel. Sleep well my love’’

’’You too mi amor’’

Taglist:

@everyhowlmarksthedead

@mayans-sauce

@justatiredfool

@lovebennycolon

@queenbeered

@nadinesabre

@ocetevasgirl

@spookys-girl

@angelreyesgirl

[queerchoicesblog]

Epilogue: Underwater (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series)

As promised, here the epilogue of the Zetta x Adele Series, folks. 

This is the very end of a project that meant me quite a lot to me and got me through the last terrible year. Thanks to all those who supported it: hope you enjoyed it and will enjoy this ending.

In case you were wondering, this song inspired the whole series, particularly the last chapters:

I will skip the tag list for once since it’s pointless anyway. 

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9, Ch. 10/1, Ch. 10/2, Ch. 11/1, Ch. 11/2, Ch. 12, Ch. 13, Ch. 14, Ch. 15 , Ch. 16, Ch. 17

_________________________

Almost a century after the sinking of the RMS Titanic and to celebrate Canada becoming the first country outside Europe to legalise same-sex marriage, the Canadian Film Institute decided to work side by side with several LGBTQ+ organisations across the world to put together an exhibition focused on the early queer cinema and the many queer stars who were forced to hide their true selves in the Golden Age of cinematography, spanning from 1890s till the aftermath of Second World War. "A testament to the role the LGBTQ+ community played in the history of cinema and that we have always been here, even if people hardly saw us" as a journalist wrote on a queer magazine. After the recent discovery of some private documents, the curators were overjoyed to include an icon of the 1900s - 1910s cinema like Zetta Serda into the retrospective and cast a new light on her extraordinary career sadly soon forgotten after the advent of the sound era. Yet, the silent picture star was mentioned as a model and 'endless source of inspiration" by many queer movie stars like Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn, Greta Garbo all part of the retrospective. Rumor has it that as soon as she landed in America, Marlene Dietrich demanded his agent a meeting with Mrs King.

A curator drove all the way to Montreal to meet the last known heir, a certain Mrs. Julia Nowak, who greeted him on the threshold of a cosy downtown apartment. She offered him a coffee and a slice of a Polish sweet bread: the recipe was a family heirloom, she explained, beaming. She was in her late fifties, a therapist, she said. Her hazel eyes gleamed when she added, in a pleasantly soothing voice that betrayed a hint of excitement: "I must confess I am so incredibly happy that you contacted me about the retrospective. I adore the idea and I will make sure to attend it. Also" she nodded to a wedding picture hung to the wall "did you know that my wife is in politics? She campaigned for the legalisation...yes, Madeleine Fournier: see, you know her! We got married right after the law passed. If anything, your call and project made me twice as happy". She took a pause, smiling over her coffee in remembrance. "Anyway, back to the matter of your visit...yes, as far as I know, I am Zetta's last heir. As you probably know, my family wasn't officially related to her but she stated otherwise in her will". She moved to the couch and gestured the curator to follow her as she opened up one of the boxes and chests piled into the living room and picked out an old album, the leather cover worn at the edges. Dust waltzed in the air as she opened it with caution and gentle care. She showed him a slightly discoloured black and white picture of a young couple kissing for the camera in front of a church. Another wedding picture, from a different era. "Nana Hileni and Papa Maciej's wedding picture. I still remember them even if they both died when I was barely a teen...as if one couldn't bear to live without the other. Or so I like to think. She would help me with the homework, mathematics particularly, and he baked this bread for me till he was too weak to do so. He always claimed that he won Nana's heart with his pastries but she always denied it laughing". She passed another picture of the same couple proudly standing in front of the Nowak family bakery in Hoboken. "Frankly, I believe that Papa's broad shoulders and Marlon Brando smile are more likely to blame for this coup de foudre" she laughed. "And he knew how to deal with her no-nonsense attitude and vice versa. They...balanced each other, if you wish". She picked another picture and handed it to him. A woman was looking down in tender adoration and awe to a baby nestled in her arms looking up at her, outstretching a tiny arm in an attempt to touch her face. "There! This is Dad" she pointed at the baby before turning the picture where someone wrote 'Alex meets Auntie Adele'. Turning it again, she pointed at the woman. "This is Adele Carrem. Or Auntie Adele as I've always heard calling her. Nana's sister and Zetta's publicist and companion" Putting it back into the album, she carefully picked a bunch of other old pictures. "You surely know who this one is" she smiled, handing out the one on top. The photo was rather grainy but you could still recognise the same kid, slightly older, around two, sucking his thumb, cuddled up in Zetta's lap. The actress had aged a little but her features were unmistakable and it was endearing to see her sitting by the fireplace to read that kid with the sleepy face a bedtime story. "Sadly, I have never met them. I wish I did, oh you have no idea...but stories of them lived through in our family" Julia continued. "My Dad loved his Aunties - as he called them - dearly and by what I've heard and read, they loved him in manner as if he was their own. He knew little of them or Zetta's career back then...to him they were just the sweet ladies who would buy him ice-cream in Central Park or take him to see his favourite pictures over and over again at the movie theater. He said he will never forget the afternoons he used to spend with them in a Manhattan cafe that no longer exists around Christmas: Nana and Papa worked like crazy as the festive season approached and the glorious cup of hot chocolate with an elegant puff of cream on top with the Aunties became a tradition to him. He kept it alive somehow as he did the same with me". She handed the curator a bunch of other pictures: Zetta cleaning up Alex's face smeared with jam, the both of them laughing; Zetta posing with Maciej and her Dad at a table in the Hoboken bakery. He eventually mirrored her smile seeing a five years old Alex at the beach all engrossed in building a sandcastle with Hileni and Adele, and he standing at the water edge hand in hand with Miss Carrem, looking out into the distance. "These are family pictures. I'll show you the Zetta's private memorabilia we cherished". Julia searched a little, opening an old chest and handling every item inside with tender care. When she found what she was looking for, she showed the curator an elegant set of smaller boxes containing letters, dried flowers and photos. "I have already received an offer to get these published. I'm still pondering it. Before agreeing, I want to consider throughly if this is a thing they would have wanted, even if they're no longer here" The curator nodded as she kept searching. He skimmed a few letters and smiled as his eyes fall on the photos hidden away in those boxes: the two women sitting together and chatting at Hileni's wedding, Zetta's reading a script, lazily sprawled on a chaise long in her apartment. Some had short lines handwritten on the back, like a promotional picture with "Missing you" written by Zetta herself. The curator showed another to Mrs Nowak: a visibly excited Miss Carrem proudly showing to the camera a document announcing her voter registration. On the back, in Zetta's penmanship: "On the way to vote...my sweet Adele won!". "Oh you didn't know? Auntie Adele was a suffragette! I couldn't believe it when I first heard it! Nana told me that she was in and out jail when they lived in London because of protests. You know, like those suffragettes you read about in history books but less famous. Yet she fought for women's rights and kept fighting for them even in America. She was quite disappointed though by some major decisions of some feminist movements and eventually joined a socialist Union 'more rightfully welcoming working class individuals, immigrants and black brothers and sisters'. It's all in those letters but yeah, you couldn't possibly know. So little is known about her outside family". A little smile drew on her face as she put back the photo. "That photo was taken the day of the first election open to women. I checked the date. I suppose Zetta wanted to immortalise the moment...it was sweet of her, huh? Auntie Adele must have been so proud and overjoyed that day! You know, my Dad was born in 1920 when women's right to vote was legalised nationally and Nana once told me that Auntie commented the lucky coincidence saying she was incredibly happy her nephew would get to live in a fairer world. She was a true force of nature...she never talked much of the sinking of the Titanic just like Zetta and Nana actually but when one day Dad asked...he was barely a child and probably found an old article about the tragedy...Auntie Adele minimised but Nana assured him that her sister saved her life that night, risking her own to go down to the belly of the sinking ship to bring her to safety. Auntie simply shrugged, saying that it was what sisters do and that they made it to the lifeboats only thanks to Zetta, who shouted protests to stubborn officers and eventually found them a spot on a boat. I cannot even bring myself to imagine how scary that must have been: I cried so much when Madeleine took me to see Leo and Kate...to think they were there and it was all real!" She picked a few other objects out the box: a Shakespeare Sonnets book in a leather cover with golden engravings, with a little handwritten dedication 'To Adele, my sonnet 116. Happy birthday! With all my love, Zetta'; old scripts with annotations, a framed photograph of Adele and Zetta slow dancing barefoot in the living room of a gorgeous Long Island mansion. "These have a sentimental value" Mrs Nowak noted, her voice betraying the flicker of emotions as she picked it up. She took a deep sigh and continued. "I remember the day I told Dad I was gay as it was yesterday. We had always been quite close so it came natural to tell him first. We were in his car, he had come straight from college to pick me up at ice-skating practice. I..I dropped it in the middle of a conversation, bracing myself for the worst. I heard so many bad stories about coming out to your parents I was terrified of the consequences but I couldn't hide it anymore. I mean, yes, in public: bullies get even nastier if they know and I didn't want people shouting me "dyke" at school. But I needed to get it out of my chest...with someone at least. He kept quiet for a moment and I felt like drowning in shame. But then he spoke". A nostalgic tender smile formed Julia's lips. "He said he had two amazing Aunties that contributed to make his life a wondrous adventure. It was thanks to them that he, the son of a baker, could attend a prestigious college, for instance: they offered to pay for it without asking a penny back. They also helped him write his first romantic letter to his childhood sweetheart and consoled him when the little girl turned him down. But his Aunties had a secret, he added. He said: to my kid eyes they were no less a couple than Mom and Dad and at home we all treated them in manner but one day Mom made me promise to behave differently when we were in public. In public I would refer to her sister as 'Auntie Adele' but call Zetta by her name. He didn't get it and it took some getting used to. He soon noticed that even the Aunties behaved a bit differently out in the sun: they wouldn't hold hands or use endearing words in the street or when other people were around. They simply behaved like good friends did. He understood it later when he, as stubborn as a mule, asked them directly". Julia gently grazed her fingers on the glass of the framed photograph, caressing it. "And they told me everything, he said. That they were in love, just like mom and dad were, but people out there could be uncomfortable and extremely rude to women loving other women and men loving other men. That they kept their companionship a secret in public because those people had no problems with women being friends and they didn't want to have bad words or worse happening to them. I remember asking him what he thought about it. He smiled. 'I cried. Since Auntie Zetta mentioned people claiming that women like them were sick and would burn in hell, I actually started crying. I sobbed desperately in her arms, crying that I didn't want them to burn in hell, I loved my Aunties and I was happy they loved each other. Eventually they explained me it was just a vile lie spread my malignant people. But I got quite a scare and kept staring at them with puffy red eyes and my face wet with tears for a while. It required lots of cuddling to bring a smile back on my face'. He shook his head, laughing of his endearing naivety. Then he pulled over and looked at me. He continued: 'I still don't get why people keep spreading those mean lies but I know for sure that my Aunties weren't sick and didn't end up in hell and so won't you. Don't believe bullshits like that for a split second, okay? And I also want you to remember that it doesn't change a thing for me and mom too. You will always be my little girl, our little girl and we love you'. We shared a long hug before driving back home. On the way back he insisted to buy my favourite chicken and waffles for dinner, saying mom's veggie soup could wait. For my birthday, a month later or so, he asked me to follow him to the attic and showed me this chest. To meet the Aunties that 'would have surely been there for me'". She tipped away a tear. "I told you I married Madeleine right after the legalisation of same-sex marriages. My wedding was also the last public event Mom and Dad attended together before his health worsened irremediably. He passed away last year". For a moment she looked on the verge of tears but she recovered quickly. "Sorry...anyway, that day Dad insisted on walking me down the aisle even if he was getting weak. He beamed with pride when a friend fixed a rainbow ribbon to his jacket. Later at the lunch he read a speech he had written for the day, his hand shaking. He shared the story of his Aunties. He said that despite the hardships their situation forced upon them, they had quite a happy life together, a happiness carefully hidden from the world. He wished us to find something similar to what they shared without needing to hide anymore. He said Adele and Zetta would have been so happy and proud to celebrate with all of us that day" Mrs. Nowak picked the Shakespeare Sonnet book and gave him a fond look. "He brought this to the wedding. And he read for us the sonnet 116, the one Zetta mentioned in her dedication. You know, the one that starts with 'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments..." ----------------------- A few months later the exhibition on old Hollywood queer cinema and artists opened. Each artist had a room that soon filled with a crowd of enthusiastic visitors. In the first half, in a room arranged as a turn of the century nickelodeon with velvet chairs, all the memorabilia of Zetta Serda's public life: panels explaining the various stages of her career and the birth of her myth, promotional pictures of her performances, articles about her and a copy of a gazette announcing her wedding with the director Richard King. On the wall, on a screen her entire filmography rolled up in loop, bewitching spectators after a century. In display cases: the gorgeous sapphire necklace she wore on her last night on the Ship of Dreams and at the movie party of Surviving the Titanic, and a replica of her Cleopatra costume. The aging Queen of Egypt with a tragic love and destiny immortalised by Shakespeare was her last role back on the theater stage before retiring from the scenes. Old scripts with her personal annotation were displayed with photographs taken on sets and mundane events. The wall hosting the motion-picture screen cut the room in half. On the other side, the hidden half of her life. Her life with Adele no one suspected back then. A life kept secret that now unveiled in front of the eyes of the visitors. The curators discovered that finding public pictures of Miss Carrem was nearly impossible, true to the nickname she acquired as time went by: The Shadow. She stayed at Zetta's side until and even after she stopped acting, showing rare loyalty and devotion, but ever surrounded by this mystery allure. No one, even the most stubborn reporters managed to know anything about her and she was soon dismissed as a Titanic survivor, possibly a fan, who worked as Zetta's secretary and somehow gained her respect. Little they knew about the depth of their relationship and what stacks of secret letters and family memories revealed of the life of Miss Carrem. A panel finally told her story and her secret achievements: Adele, or better Adal, kept fighting for a fairer world and society her whole life and marched for women's right to vote on the famous parade in 1915. She also passed the teaching of Edith Garrud to her American sisters. The only pictures of her came from the Nowak family, except for one. The only photograph of a public appearance of Miss Carrem as well as the only known public appearance of Zetta and Adele. An old grainy photo accurately framed showed Adele shaking hands with The Unsinkable Molly Brown on a podium. In her free hand a shiny medal and a few steps behind the mayor of New York. According to the panel, the survivors' committee founded by Mrs. Brown decided to award Miss Carrem a medal for bravery and a generous check "to help her and her sister starting a new life in America". With great surprise, Miss Carrem received the medal and the check, thanked the board but refused the honors. Instead, she asked to deliver them both to the family of a certain Charlie Stoke, a stewart that lost his life in the sinking to save her life and those of many passengers. She added that her friend expressed the desire to study naval engineering one day and she wished that the money kindly offered to her would be enough to establish a scholarship for boys like him across the ocean. In another picture, Miss Carrem and her sister chatted with Moll Brown in company of Zetta. Eventually, other philanthropists and wealthy socialites signed checks for her cause so that the Stoke family received a generous contribution too. And today, as another picture confirmed, the faculty of naval engineering of the University of Newcastle hosts a marble engraving of Charlie Stoke: to his memory a scholarship had been instituted one year after on the anniversary of the sinking. Since 1913 it has been helping students of poor background to get an education and improve their life. Zetta herself became a philanthropist during her Renaissance and ever since. The first act of her new phase of her life was joining the Moll Brown survivors committee to provide help to the second and third class passengers families and survivors. Some said that the tragedy she witnessed touched her heart, other claimed that it was to be attributed to the influence of her publicist. Jokingly, she used to say that after all, she had too much money yet all she could have wished for in her life, so why not doing some good with it? A considerable donation under her and Mr King was received by the main hospital during the Spanish flu pandemic; she was particularly active in providing financial help to struggling neighbourhoods and female education institutions. In the middle of the room, a long glass display hosted the Shakespeare Sonnets opened at sonnet 116 and a selection of the private correspondence between Zetta and Adele. My darling, You will receive this letter tomorrow morning when I'll be already off to Chicago. The suitcases are ready and packed, this is a goodnight note scribbled the night before leaving you to remind you how much I love you and care about you. How much I'm going to miss you even if - thank God! - we won't be parted for long... Do not forget you promised me to write every day! Write to me, Adele, write to me whatever thought crosses that gorgeous mind of you: you know I could you rambling for hours without getting tired of the sound of your voice, of your sparkling wisdom. I wanna know everything. So don't be shy: I'll be waiting your letters with tender impatience. Can't wait to be in your arms once more. Adoringly yours, Zetta - Dear, dearest Zetta, I went to Central Park today with Hileni. It was a gorgeous spring day, sunny, a gentle breeze blowing: 'simply too beautiful to be wasted inside' as my sister put it. Did I tell you that she's still exchanging letters with the delivery boy from the hat shop? I thought they were over but apparently he invited her to the nickelodeon next week. Anyway, walking in the park with her I suddenly realised how I wanted to share that spring wonder with you. When are you coming back to New York? Tell me soon, please. And even 'soon' won't be soon enough: you're always on my mind since you left. But yes, tell me soon so I can make you promise we will go for a walk before the weather becomes too hot. Do you think I can wrap my arm with yours? Is it professional enough for a publicist? Even just for a few steps: oh you have no idea how I would love that! Or maybe you have? I hope so: it'd mean you miss me as much as I miss you when we are apart. Oh, I almost forgot: all settled with that magazine you mentioned before your departure! I negotiated a two pages long interview, plus pictures. And a cover mention. Hope I did well: you have already fired me as your secretary, I must prove you I am just what you're looking for in a publicist... Can't wait to see you again! Loving you always, Adele Only one letter was copied on a panel of its own on the main wall side by side with a blow-up of the picture of Adele and Zetta slow-dancing barefoot and free, for a blessed moment immortalised in a discreet shot. Adele pressing a tender kiss on Zetta's forehead, drawing a soft smile on the acrtress' lips. Many visitors commented it was heartwarming to see such a photograph that conveyed the intimacy and the warmth of affection radiating from the dancing couple. Some said that Zetta was even more beautiful like that: free, hair slightly askew and genuinely happy, loved. What stole their hearts away though was the letter attached to it. It was no surprise that the curators decided to name the retrospective Underwater. Dearest Adele, Forgive me for the tone of this letter. I am writing it down in bed while I cannot sleep and my mind runs back to you as if we could meet halfway between the miles separating us, in a world of fantasy of our own. It's ridiculous how much I miss you! I want you near, I need you near all the time. Take tonight: if you were here with me, I would be heavenly sleeping in your loving embrace. Most unfortunately, you are not and I'm lying here, insomniac, thinking of you. And about my life. No, don't frown. I am not getting all sad again. It's...bittersweet. And - I'll spoil you the ending so you will stop worrying, hopefully - it gets better the more you proceed. Have you ever felt trapped underwater? I did, my whole life. Always hiding, always measuring words, gestures, gazes not to let them see, not to let them know...so little time to go up and break the surface. Drop the mask and breathe. In, out. Once, twice. In my lowest moments I repeated to my myself: how are you gonna survive? One day an acquaintance with a remarkable passion for the sea explained me and the other bored commensals that you can keep someone alive by breathing oxygen into their mouth underwater. Pretty much like mouth-to-mouth resuscitation helps an unconscious person to regain consciousness. I found it interesting but doubted his words. Then I met you, Adele. My dearest, wondrous Adele. And I learnt that yes, you can't breathe if you're constantly underwater...but you won't drown if you have the right person swimming by your side in those deep waters. Put your lips on me, Adele. Touch me, hold me in your arms. And I can live underwater. With your love, I can live underwater. We can live underwater. I love you. I want to cover a full page of these three simple words: I love you. I want to cry them out and entrust them to the winds, to the night. But what for? Who cares if the world knows or not? I'll whisper them over your lips when we will be reunited. So you can breathe underwater. Counting down the hours separating us, my love. Eternally yours, Zetta

[the-drakeboys]

Come Back to Me - Pt. 1

Summary: For the first time in years, Sam and Nate Drake will be going on a perilous, high-risk adventure without you by their side - a three-day stint in a Panamanian prison. They’re not just the guys you’ve partnered with and been a medic for on dozens of insane jobs over the last few years - Nate has become one of your closest friends, and Sam… well, Samuel Drake is the love of your life. 

Sam just wants to reassure you - everything is going to be perfectly fine. 

It’s a simple job, after all. 

Pairing: Sam Drake x Reader

Word Count: 3,475

Warnings: Just… all of the fluff. So much fluff.

A/N: My first fic in a long time! I sincerely hope you enjoy. This’ll be a 3- or 4-part series… Just can’t get enough of Sam. He’s such a complex character, and I absolutely love him. Thanks so much for reading!

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"I just don't see why we can't come up with something." Pacing the floor with your hands on your hips, you had both Drake brothers watching you with uncertain eyes. The crimson shag carpeting beneath your feet squished between your toes, and your eyes caught the cryptic motel art hanging on the far wall. "There must be... I don't know. Something." 

"We've been over this three hundred times, y/n. It's not gonna work," Nate sighed, rubbing his hands down over his face. You slowed to a stop behind Sam's chair and set your hand on the back of it. You idly thought about how badly you needed to do a load of laundry - his t-shirt felt utterly grimy against the side of your thumb. "But the boat is an important piece of the puzzle. Immensely important. In fact, I would say it's the most important-" 

"Okay, alright, she gets it," Sam waved off his brother's muttering, glancing up at you over his shoulder. "Darlin', we'll be fine. I promise you. It's a simple plan, in and out. That's it." You stared down at him, taken by the earnest look in his eyes. He meant it; he was confident everything would be completely fine. 

And that's what scared you. 

"Sam..." you started, your mouth opening and closing uselessly. He never left your gaze, managing a small, reassuring smile in the corner of his lips. You sighed, setting your hand softly onto his cheek. He turned his head and kissed your palm, hoping that your jittery nerves would be soothed by it. You felt yourself sink, knowing they were right. "Just... just go over the plan for me one more time. Okay?" 

"Jesus, y/n..." Nate's patience was wearing thin. You sat yourself down in the chair between them, trying to settle yourself. 

"Please. Just humor me,” you pressed. The younger Drake softened at the sound of your voice and gave, clearing his throat and starting up on the plan for the millionth time. 

"Uh... Yeah. Yeah, alright." You sunk back into the chair, feeling the weight of all your worry and stress press down into your shoulders. "So, obviously, we know that Avery and Burnes had a run-in at some point in the late 1690's, and Burnes eventually wound up on his crew, and was definitely present for the Gunsway heist. Then in 1696, he was captured and imprisoned for his crimes as a pirate..." Your eyes carefully followed as he gestured across maps, notes, and letters, recounting all the details for you from start to finish, feeling your heart crumple up as he returned to the part of the plan that had remained a sticking point for you for four solid months.

The jail. 

"...so once we get whatever Burnes left behind, and assuming there aren't any hiccups or anything, we just follow Rafe's lead and head to the boat." 

"And that's where you come in," Sam murmured. "Rafe's guy will drive the boat, and you'll be there to patch us up. Y'know, if... we need it." 

Dazed and quiet, you just nodded, staring at the blueprints of the jail in front of you. Eyeing the lines - all the cells, the maze-like array of boxes and hallways and tunnels. It'd be hell to get out of there on short notice. Sam raised a brow at you, taking in your slumped form and feeling the defeat that came off of you in waves. He reached over and rested a firm hand on your knee, forcing you to lock onto his eyes. "Baby," he started. "It's nothing. We do a job like this in our sleep. You know that. I promise this time next week, it'll be like it never happened. Just me and you, on the beach somewhere, drinkin' mojitos and dancin' in the sunset." 

You cleared your throat and sat up, sighing out a slow breath of air. "That's sweet," you spoke, leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "But that's not what's bothering me." 

"...oh?" he mumbled as you leaned back from the kiss, sitting back in his chair and getting ready to listen. 

Nate took a swig of the luke warm beer that'd been sitting in front of him for over an hour; you hid a smile, pretending you didn't notice the grimace that crossed his face as he sat it back down. "Well... I mean, truthfully, besides the impossible exit strategy - or lack thereof, or the fact that I can’t be there - and yes, I get it, all male prison, yadda, yadda; or even the fact that the person your entire plan is dependent on is Rafe, with whom I wouldn't trust a pet rock, much less my life..." you trailed off, not noticing the look Nathan shot to his brother across the table and the narrowed eyes the elder sent right back, "it's mostly... Burnes. I mean, I hear you, Nate, I really do, a lead is a lead. But just… why Burnes?”

Nate cocked his head at you. “Whatta you mean?” 

You cleared your throat and carefully lifted the 300 year old letter from the table. “I mean… why Burnes? Theoretically, the Gunsway heist took place in ‘95, right? Avery dies four years later - and based on this one letter, we’re supposed to believe that Avery left his monumental treasure of gold and jewels, the culmination of his entire fantastic career as a pirate… to some inconsequential member of his crew who’d barely come aboard just before the heist?” 

A wave of depressed concern flooded both young men. "Well..." Sam started, sitting forward. "Look, it's..." 

You cut him off, “-and not to mention, why would he have wanted his son to ‘find his way in’ to a Panamanian jail? Is there no chance that it was forged by someone trying to lure the son in, maybe one of the captains in charge of capturing and hanging as many of the pirates from Avery’s crew as possible?” 

Nate grumbled under his breath and stood, going over to the mini fridge in the corner. He pulled a few cold beers from the tiny shelf and cracked them open.

You glanced over at Sam, immediately feeling guilt flood your veins at the disheartened expression on his face. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just… I don’t want you two risking so much on such a thin lead.” The brothers shared a look. 

Nate carefully sat down, sliding the two beers to both you and Sam across the cheap wooden table. He gently took the letter back from you and ran his eyes over it. 

“The thing is… you’re not wrong. Okay? It’s thin. It’s definitely thin. But… listen to this. ‘Though my regrets are many, know that I am at peace with my fate.’ He’s… He’s a father, giving peace of mind to his wife and son. Letting them know he’s ready for death. If it was one of the Viceroys, they wouldn’t want to imagine him having any sort of peace, and they certainly wouldn’t want the son to feel peaceful about it, either. They’d want him to feel urgency. To hurry to the jail. They’d give him some sort of date or timeline.” Nate’s passion was evident as he let the words roll off his tongue, and you couldn’t help how it made you smile, how much he reminded you of his brother. 

They both got that look in their eye when they talked about history; when they told the stories of people who’d lived and died so long ago. 

“And,” Sam chimed in, a glint in his eye as he spoke, “he doesn’t just say ‘treasure’. He describes it as ‘the riches of paradise’... That’s a pretty specific line, and given how religious Avery seems to have been... I mean, there are references to paradise all over Avery’s history, and the Spaniards wouldn’t have known that.” 

Okay. you thought. There’s no talking them out of this.

“C’mon… You know it’ll be fine… over before you know it. What’s the worst that could happen?” Sam nudged at your foot with his own, trying his hardest to make you smile.

Your eyes found their way to your overstuffed med pack, sitting fully stocked at the edge of your bed. You’d been there for them through more close calls and near-death experiences than you’d care to admit over the last three years, playing medic to their wild, reckless adventurers since the beginning. And now, without you being able to get into the prison with them, the mere thought of them having to make it in and out of that place without you by their side turned your stomach inside out. 

But they were right. This was the only lead you’d had for months… It was this, or back to square one. And with everything they’d been through, with how long they’d been after this treasure… That just wasn’t an option. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you mumbled, “Can I at least stock you guys up with some gear, just in case?” 

A wide grin broke out over Sam’s face. “That’s my girl,” he laughed, reaching over and cupping your cheeks in his hands. “We’re gonna be fine,” he pressed a kiss to your lips, “More than fine, actually. We’ll be great.” He turned to his brother then, holding his beer out for a cheers. “We’re gettin’ close to this treasure, I can feel it.” 

You let out a soft giggle, rolling your eyes and lifting your own beer to theirs. Just before your bottle touched Sam’s, you pulled it back. “...Although…”

“...oh my god. What?” Nate huffed with a frustrated laugh.

“...What do I get out of bein’ so cool about this?” you grinned, lifting your feet up to rest on Sam’s lap. 

“What you get? You mean other than your share of a 400 million dollar treasure?” Nathan was beside himself at this point, finally relaxed but still in disbelief at your stubbornness. 

Sam was lost to the conversation, in an awe-filled haze as he watched you start haggling with his younger brother. He softly rested his free hand on your ankle, rubbing the skin there and listening to you throw out ideas - everything from them doing your laundry for a month to a three-day excursion to the Bahamas - and all he could think was just how goddamn lucky he’d gotten; he still couldn’t believe you were his.

“...okay, okay, no, I’ve got it,” you spoke, sure of yourself as a sly grin crossed your face. Nate raised a brow at you, playfully terrified of whatever was to come next.

“Oh god, what is it?” 

You sat forward, smirking at them both. “When you get back, you two finally tell me your last name.” 

“...y/n, the hell’re you talkin’ about?” the younger Drake seemed confused, but you saw right through both of them. 

“Yeah, c’mon. You know, your real last name.” They both immediately began stuttering their way through objections, but you weren’t having any of it. “C’mon, boys, how long did you think I was gonna buy that you just happened to be descendants of Sir Francis Drake? Really? You’re treasure hunters, for Christ’s sakes.” 

Your laughter carried through the thin motel walls, but Sam stayed on target, pressing his fingers lovingly into your ankle as he did, “No, no, Drake is a very proud, very meaningful family name. You’ll see, we’ll uhh… shit, I’ll show you my birth certificate if that makes you feel better.” 

Nate shot him a look that screamed ‘are you fuckin’ kidding?’, but it went unnoticed. There was a darkness in Sam’s eyes and a pang in your gut that told you to let this one go; there was much more to this story than he was ready to tell.

“...mhmm,” you grinned, playing it off and raising your beer once more. “So, uhh… my laundry for a month, then?” 

Nate let out a relieved laugh, glad the discussion was finally over. “Guess I can live with that. I figure it’s worth it for 400 million.”

 Over the clinking of bottles and excited murmurs of cheers, an atmosphere of adventure loomed. 

Sam was right. Everything would be… great. 

“Y’know, I was thinking about the guard that Rafe is paying to get us in, I mean, maybe we can buy him a fruit basket or somethin’ once it’s all done…” Nate began, “Could be a nice way to keep him from asking about what we’re doin’, I mean it could be pretty funny, here’s thirty grand and, y’know, some bananas and pomegranates…” You and Sam listened in amusement, nodding your heads as if any of what he was saying made sense. 

As the youngest Drake rambled on and on about fruit baskets and prison guards and how much of an asshole he knows Rafe to be, Sam found your eyes with his and held them there. A weight lived there between you both, a magnet pulling you to him. He took a swig of his beer, occasionally ‘mhm’ing for his little brother’s benefit; but you were all he was thinking about. A soft smile tugged at your lips, the coy look in your eye driving him crazy, making him struggle not to reach out and touch you. 

“Ahem,” Nate coughed, a brow raised at both of you. You mumbled a ‘hmm?’ at him, turning to face him. Sam didn’t move, gaze still set on you as if he was etching every curve of your face into his memory. 

“I’m uh… I’m gonna go see what’s goin’ on down at Tankhouse. I think it’s ladies night, or… somethin’.” You felt a warm blush come over your cheeks as he stood from the table.

“...you have fun with that, little brother.” Sam’s soft voice and sly, cheeky smile caused a flutter in your stomach, your foot gently kicking his side as you willed him to behave long enough for Nate to get out the door. 

“Sounds good, Nate,” you muttered through your smile, “We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Night, guys,” he said with a playful roll of his eyes, shutting the door behind him. 

Sam set his beer down and reached over, turning the knobs on the old motel radio that sat against the wall. Old 60’s tunes began to play through the speakers, and he set it to a low volume before turning back to you. “C’mere,” he mumbled, his tone both husky and sweet as you obliged him. You moved to sit yourself across his lap, sighing happily as he brought you into his arms and tugged you close. He captured your lips with his in a slow, heated kiss, one that set you on fire and made your fingers curl around the fabric of his t-shirt. You sunk into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling against his lips. “...what?” he chuckled, his eyes slowly peeling open. 

“Nothin’. Just… you taste… you taste like beer and..tacos.”

“M’not hearin’ a complaint…” 

“Shuddup,” you giggled, still tasting him on your tongue as you leaned back in his hold. There was a long quiet as he stared up at you, eyes lidded and hazy. You dragged your lips in a whisper against his, humming your words into them. “Mmmm, you are gonna miss meeeee…” 

He let out a pained laugh and buried his face in the crook of your neck, peppering soft kisses there. “Ooh, babygirl, you have no idea.” 

“Can you imagine me in prison, though?” you wondered aloud, lovingly threading your fingers through his long, auburn hair and smiling at the happy, peaceful hum it brought out of him.

“...ooooh, I sure can,” he teased, his fingers coming up to give your side a playful squeeze. 

“Oh, stop it,” you laughed, smacking his arm. 

“What? I’m serious. You all dressed up in the orange jumpsuit? Runnin’ the joint, callin’ the shots.” 

He leaned his head back, glancing up at you as you thought aloud, trying to hide your grin, “Y’know, you’re not wrong, I’d probably be some big shot… Get a bunch of tattoos, maybe start collecting teardrops…”

“Now that, that I would love to see,” he laughed, his hand sweetly resting on your thigh and his thumb swiping back and forth. “What about your right-hand man? Do I get a few teardrops, too?”

You cocked your head to the side in thought, twirling some of his hair around your fingers, “Hmm… No, I don’t think you’d be the teardrops type… Too obvious. You’d uhh… I could see you with some birds. Maybe down the side here…” You traced a finger down the side of his neck, feeling goosebumps rise in the wake of your touch. He closed his eyes then, drinking in the moment, loving every second of how it felt to have you in his arms. 

“Mmm… Mhm, I’ll have to do that… Maybe I’ll just get them on this trip. I’ll come back to you all tatted up, lookin’ large and in charge,” he chuckled, still distracted by your fingers running through his hair. 

A heavy quiet fell over both of you, the only sound in the room coming from the radio as oldies classics continued to play. You slowly pulled your fingers from his hair, cupping his face in your palms and meeting his eyes as he peeled them open. “You do that, Samuel Drake,” you whispered. “You come back to me.” 

The fear and stress that played over your face rocked something in him, and every bone in his body ached, knowing just how worried you’d be until he came back to you. 

And in that moment, something in him clicked; staring up at you, his heart racing, his entire body overflowing, he mumbled a single word. 

“Morgan.” 

Your brows furrowed with questions, your mouth opening to ask them, but stopping as realization overtook your face. He repeated it quietly, a shy, scared smile tugging at his lips. “Our name… it’s Morgan.” 

You couldn’t help the joy that poured onto your face, love stretching through you to your fingertips as you closed the small distance between you and met his lips with a full, passionate kiss. He wrapped himself around you, moving his lips with yours, falling harder with each passing moment and knowing in his gut that of all the people in the world to tell about who he really was, the only one that mattered was you. 

As you pulled back from the kiss, you could feel his heart thumping heavily away in his chest. He cleared his throat. This was hard for him; but for you, he would do anything. “When we were kids, I uhm…. There was this one night...” He looked shaken, and your chest ached at the sight. You could see him reliving whatever hell he and Nathan had gone through - you saw it right there in his eyes. “See, Nathan was just a little guy, and I... I almost-”

“-I love you,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his. An emotional smile came over him, grateful for the rescue. 

“Maybe I’ll uhh… maybe I’ll save that one for another time,” he mumbled, relief washing over him. 

“Sounds like a plan, handsome,” you promised. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

There wasn’t an ounce of uncertainty in his eyes, his hand coming up to gently tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Never doubted it, sweetheart,” he spoke. “In fact-” He cut himself off then, brows raising happily as the radio began to play his favorite - Sinatra. “Ooh… Oh, this is a good one.” He reached over, fingers nimbly turning the radio up as I’ve Got You Under My Skin floated out through the room. “...I have got you,” he started to sing, your heart instantly fluttering at the sound, “Under my skin… I’ve got you, deep in the heart of me…” 

Sam’s smile was infectious as he sang, shifting you in his lap so he carried you bridal style against his chest. “...I would sacrifice anything, come what might, for the sake, of holdin’ you near…” He stood then, eyes glued to yours, loving how you listened to him with that adoring gaze, your arms around his neck, swaying from side to side as he held you.

His face was so close to you, his lips hovering above yours, warm breath unfolding over your skin with every word of the song. “But each time I do, just the thought of you, makes me stop, before I begin…. ‘Cuz I’ve got you…” Before he could finish, you took those beautiful few words from his lips with a kiss; one that made you both forget the impending trip to Panama, the jail he’d be stuck in for three days without you, and his partnership with the ever questionable Rafe Adler. It was a kiss full of all the weight of knowing deep down in your gut that you were utterly, hopelessly.. helplessly in love. 

---

Next Chapter

Tags: [tagging the lovely folks who responded to my post re: who’d be interested in a Sam fic. :)]

@lucacangettathisass @ammaliatrici @cassieseraphim @slooshen @wings-0806 @talktothemoon2 @nachochitz @supernaturally-avenging-hannibal @aritipoupi @landoverthemountains @qwertybubbler @raeswrittenrecords @coolnerdreader @s4mdrake @go-youngtrash-things

GIF credit to @bizexualvampire, couldn’t get tumblr to link the gif from the post. thank you!

[echo-bleu]

Brothers

A little Manes brothers canon divergence for @eveningspirit ‘s birthday! I hope you like it :) It also happens to fit with today’s @alexmanesappreciation theme: legacy.

[concussions, mentions of vomiting, mentions of abuse, mentions of the shed scene]

The exact sequence of events that leads to him, Flint and Gregory sitting together on a mattress in the bared living room of a house he doesn't know will remain blurry in Alex's memory. He puts it on the massive concussion he sustained at the hands of his own father, because he was careless enough to let his guard drop for ten seconds and the bastard managed to sneak up on him.

He remembers waking up in his childhood home and almost throwing up on the floor of the basement at the goddamn awful feeling of being back there−or maybe that was just the concussion. Probably the concussion.

He'd suspected that his father was faking most of the consequences of his stroke for a while, and he'd known about the bug on his phone for days. He just didn't expect his father to act so fast, in the middle of the junkyard, when Alex was supposed to report back in the morning.

Maybe Jesse heard something in his voice down in the bunker. Alex let his emotions carry him away and said more than he meant to, so maybe his father figured out that he was made somehow. Either way, he got the drop on him, and Alex woke up with a killer headache, pissed off, confused, and, yes, scared. Even after all these years, after three tours overseas, his father still scares the shit out of him.

The one who greeted him upon waking up, however, was not his father. It was Flint, a gun in his hand and a hard look on his face. Alex's sudden hope that Flint was here to free him was squashed quickly at his sneer. He listened to Flint and their father argue up in the living room about where to keep him for hours−something about Jesse grabbing him too early, before things were ready−before Flint came to get him. He'd learned his lesson from last time, because he stayed out of range of Alex's zip-tied hands the whole way out of the house. Alex nearly fell down the stairs at least three times because of the dizziness, and threw up, with some satisfaction, on his father's shoes.

It's been days, but he's still dizzy and nauseous all the time, and the killer headache is a constant companion.

Greg's hands are on him, checking him over. He finds one of the bumps on his head and Alex flinches away, almost overbalancing off the mattress when the cuff on his wrist pulls him back. “Are you alright?” Greg murmurs. Alex nods, and immediately regrets it as it sends a spike of pain down his spine.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Greg?” Flint growls. For once, he doesn't have his gun in his hand. Alex realizes that it's because the gun is tucked in Greg's waistband and he frowns, trying to keep it in his line of sight just in case. He thinks Greg actually cares, that he's not in on this with Flint and their Dad, but if he's not, why is he here?

“Now that's a real funny story,” Greg smirks mirthlessly. “Why don't you sit down, Flint?” He formulates it as a question, but it's obviously an order. And in a situation where there's only one gun, ranks don't matter much. Greg is out of the Navy and Alex outranks both of them anyway. Flint slowly drops to the floor, just outside the mattress, and crosses both his legs and his arms petulantly.

“See, yesterday morning, I got a call,” Greg stars. “It's the funny thing about being the only one in our family Alex trusts enough to list as next of kin. You get these calls. I got one before,” he nods to Alex's leg. “No, two, actually. There was that one time−” Alex glares at him and he rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, back to the point. I was told that Alex had been AWOL for 72 hours, and they were looking for him.”

Alex winces. Of course he already knows that crawling this way out of this one, even if everything ends well and no one dies, is going to be impossible. Being AWOL will earn him jail time, which is already bad, but if they start looking into his recent activities out of suspicion...well, he hopes to God that Liz has really emptied the lab, or things will get a hell of a lot more complicated.

Speaking of Liz...

Helena Ortecho was a surprise. There's a kind of irony in there, that Alex would be more surprised at being held captive by a woman he hasn't seen in over a decade than by his own family. He wonders what Liz would think of Helena being a kidnapper−or of her being more motherly to him that he's ever seen her be to Liz and Rosa. She watched Flint tie him up to a radiator without a word and then brought him food and clothes that weren't covered in vomit and dust, even getting Flint to briefly untie him at gunpoint to get his arm through the sleeve. Alex might have tried to seize the opportunity to fight back if he'd been able to see straight.

“Now I'm a good brother, and I know there's no way Alex would go AWOL without a good reason,” Greg continues. “Especially the day after he drove to the rez with a bunch of suspicious people who are supposedly his friends, and tells me he thinks that Dad has changed.”

Flint huffs.

“Yes,” Greg nods. “Either our baby brother really is more naive than we thought, or something fishy is going on.” Alex rolls his eyes, and Greg just glares at him.

The last few days, after getting to the house, are even more fuzzy. Alex remembers trying to push the mattress against the wall to get a better range of movement, and Flint coldly making him pull it back. He remembers pulling off his prosthetic, his stump swollen and sore from too much time with it on, and then trying to hit Flint with it the next time he came by, which earned him what is probably a second concussion from the butt of his brother's gun. He doesn't really remember anything since then. From the stubble on his face, it's been at least three days, but time is wonky and his mind unreliable.

Which brings him to now, and now has Greg sitting beside him on the mattress. Alex tries to blink away the confusion and sit up properly, wincing when his stump moves on the mattress. Days without a shrinker will make it a bitch to get back into the prosthetic.

Greg shifts. “I took a family emergency day, since that seemed to be the case, and I drove to Roswell. I had to look up my own brother's address in the phone book,” he glares again.

Alex throws his free hand up. “Hey, you're the one who didn't want to come.” His voice is weak and hoarse from disuse, and Greg looks more concerned than chastened.

“Right. I broke in−sorry, Alex, I'll replace the lock if you want me to. Alex's house was empty but his suitcase was still waiting on his bed. So I looked up Isobel Evans.”

“Really? Isobel?”

Greg shrugs. “I don't know what's going on between you, Guerin and Maria, but I'm not getting in the middle of it. Besides, Isobel seemed the most sensible of all of you.”

“You're just attracted to her,” Alex mutters.

“Alex, the choice I had was her or her brother. I know you're gay, but would you really go to Max Evans first?”

“I see your point,” Alex concedes, though he's still really not sure “sensible” is the adjective he'd use to describe Isobel. His muddled brain can't seem to come up with a better one, though, so he lets it go.

“All Isobel could tell me was that no one had seen you since you came back from the rez, but she got everyone moving to find you. Guerin went at it with Dad, got him to admit that he got to you first and Flint took you from him. Don't ask me how, I don't know.”

Isobel, Alex thinks after he's parsed all this−with at least a thirty-second delay. Isobel must have gone into their Dad's head, he would never have told them that willingly. But Greg doesn't know about aliens and there's no way he'll risk telling Flint something he could use against them, so he keeps quiet.

“After that, it wasn't hard to follow Flint here from his place,” Greg finishes. “I disarmed him once I confirmed you were here.”

Flint grunts. Alex looks over at him, amused. He's never been the best at self-defense, even when they were kids, too easily overtaken by his temper.

“Now will someone explain to me what's going on here?” Greg straightens up more, in a stance that looks relaxed but Alex can feel is fully vigilant. He may be missing part of the story, but he's a force to be reckoned with.

Alex and Flint exchange a glance. Somehow even as they stand on opposite sides of this fight, this decision−tell Greg about the aliens or try to lie their way through some kind of resolution−comes down to them. “Where's Helena?” Alex asks.

“In town,” Flint answers, some of the confrontation gone from his tone. “She won't be back for a few hours.”

“Who's Helena?” Greg asks.

“Flint's accomplice,” Alex answers. “Ironically also my friends' mom.”

“Which friends?” Greg frowns.

“Liz and Rosa. You remember them?”

Greg nods. “Rosa was the girl in Flint's year who died, right? Her mom is helping you?” he asks Flint.

Flint shrugs and looks at Alex again, trying to communicate something silently. Alex doesn't bother figuring out what it is. His head isn't quite clear enough to see all of the implications, but he already knows that there's no way Greg will settle for anything short of the truth. And Greg has always been very good at reading his brothers.

Plus, Greg is in control here, and he's been more than sympathetic to Alex since his injury. This could come out well for Alex, so he won't let Flint turn this to his advantage.

“Dad tried to take me down because I've become an inconvenience to his little genocide plan,” he says before Flint can stop him. “Flint thinks he can use me to get Michael to build him a bomb.”

That's the little he's gathered from Flint's talk with Dad the other day, and from Flint and Helena's interaction. He has no idea where Helena comes into it or how she learned about aliens, but he knows Flint's motivations well enough. They've been clear since Caulfield.

“Wait, genocide? Bomb?” Greg spits out in shock. Then he shakes his head, as if realizing that he shouldn't be surprised. “What the fuck are you doing, Flint?”

“They're invaders,” Flint says. “They're dangerous.” He's looking at Alex rather than Greg, as if he's trying to convince him. Alex wonders if he's not still trying to convince himself. Dad's twisted ideas coming from Flint's mouth sound so perverted and out of place.

“They're people,” Alex shoots back.

“They're aliens!”

“They're refugees!”

“Whoa,” Greg throws up his arms. “Am I missing something obvious or did you suddenly become a racist asshole? Are you even hearing yourself?” he asks Flint. Flint has the good grace to look a little abashed.

“Literal aliens,” Alex mutters. “We're talking about actual aliens.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Not even a little,” Alex sighs.

Greg closes his eyes. “Okay. Aliens. And Dad−”

“Wants to kill them all. Kept some of them prisoners for decades and experimented on them.”

Alex watches both Greg and Flint's face closely as he says that. Greg's is suitably horrified, but he doesn't know how to interpret Flint's expression. It's not disgust. It's not glee, either. He may be parroting Dad's rhetoric, but he's not lost to it.

“Dad was just trying to protect us,” he says. Not perfectly assured. The facade is cracking.

“Was?” Greg notices.

“He's been weaker, since the stroke.”

“You know he's faking the limp, right?” Alex asks.

A shadow goes through Flint's gaze. “Of course,” he says, but it's obviously a lie.

“Another lovely moment, finding out my father has been faking a disability for months when he hit me over the head with his cane,” Alex casually turns to Greg. Flint winces, glancing down at Alex's empty pant leg. “I love how well we communicate in this family.”

“Alex−” Flint starts.

“You don't get to say anything. You've been holding me chained up for days against my will. You've lost the right to tell me how great a family we are.”

“I'm still hung up over the alien thing, but I have to agree with Alex here,” Greg says. “What the fuck were you thinking, Flint?”

“He wants Michael to do something for him,” Alex says when Flint doesn't answer. “I don't even know why you'd think Michael will do anything. We're not together. And you're asking him to build a bomb designed to wipe out his entire species, Flint.”

“Wait, wait, Guerin's an alien?” Greg interrupts him.

“Yep,” Alex pops out the 'p'. “That's Dad's great threat to earth. Three orphan refugees who just want to live their life.”

“They're not alone,” Flint mutters, at the same time as Greg asks, “Three? Who else?”

“Max and Isobel Evans,” Alex smirks. The cat is out of the bag anyway, since Flint knows, and this little revenge feels good. Having one of his brothers on his side will feel good.

Greg blinks. “Okay,” he drawls out. “Let me get this straight. Guerin and the Evanses are aliens, even though they look just like us. And Dad knows about this, and wants to...wipe them out? And you're helping him?” he points to Flint.

“It's not just them,” Flint says. “We had specimens in Caulfield who could cause cancer with a simple touch, blow up whole buildings. They have dangerous powers.”

“And you have a gun,” Alex says. “How is it less dangerous than any of those powers? Powers, I should add, that Dad had no trouble using for his own agenda when it came to eliminating Jim Valenti.”

“Jim Valenti was killed by Subject N-38,” Flint frowns.

“And what, you think he went into his cell for fun? I have all the video surveillance, Flint. All the records. Decades of Dad and our grandfather randomly torturing people before going home for Sunday dinner.” From those surveillance tapes, he knows that Flint never had real contact with any of the prisoners. He never even went beyond the upper level, where he did the designs for his bomb. Alex spent hours and hours watching those tapes. “They're the same as us. Just people.”

“They want to wipe us out,” Flint says.

“They're my family,” Alex counters softly.

The shock on Flint's face would be comical, if it wasn't so painful. Greg's gaze on Alex is lost and sad. “They're more my family than you've ever been,” Alex adds for Flint.

He tries to mitigate that blow by putting a hand on Greg's arm, to show him that he doesn't mean him, but Greg shakes his head and gently moves away, guilt obvious on his face. Alex pushes through and leans his shoulder on Greg's, welcoming the support. His head is clearer now, but he's aching all over.

“Did you ever stop to think, when you were overseas?” he starts, his voice barely more than a whisper as he's trying to conserve some energy. “When you pointed your gun at insurgents or civilians or whoever it was that day you were ordered to contain or kill, did you stop and wonder who they were? If they had a life, too, a family? A brother?”

Flint looks away.

“Michael was the first person who really understood,” Alex continues. “He grew up in the system and he got the worse luck. He made me feel safe, for the first time since Mom left. He made me feel like I could get out of Roswell, escape Dad.”

“What happened?” Greg asks in a murmur.

“Dad found us,” Alex answers. “He didn't know what Michael was, but it didn't matter. He knew what I am. He started to choke me, and Michael tried to step in, so Dad took a hammer to Michael's hand.”

Neither of his brothers look shocked. Greg is clearly pained, and he drapes his arm around Alex's back in comfort, and Flint won't look at him, but they're not shocked. That's probably the saddest thing, that they all know exactly what Jesse Manes is capable of.

He waits until he's caught Flint's eyes again. “Michael's mother was in Caulfield,” he says. “He got to see her blow up with the building. He wanted to stay with her. He dreamed of going to college, but he stayed in Roswell because his sister needed him. He used to play the guitar while I sang, before Dad ruined his hand. That's the threat you're trying to eliminate, Flint.”

Flint swallows. “Did Dad really kill Jim?”

“I have the video on a secure network,” Alex nods. “We'd have to go to my place to show you, but yes. He did. I'm sorry,” he adds after a moment.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I'm sorry that Dad isn't the man you wish he was. I wished for something else for a long time, too.”

Flint stands up suddenly, and starts pacing. “I've read the reports,” he says. “The aliens attacked people when they arrived. And there's been thirteen murders in the last ten years done by aliens.”

Greg looks at Alex. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” Alex sighs. “They're people. No worse than us, but also no better. We found the murderer. He's dead now.”

“We're talking about a serial killer, Alex!” Flint loses his cool. “What if they're all like that?”

“What if they aren't?” Alex yells back. He regrets it as the sound rings painfully inside his head. “Tell me how many times you've heard that same question asked about Native men, Flint.”

Flint opens his mouth, and closes it again. He paces the length of the room faster, giving the edge of the mattress a kick when he passes by.

Greg clears his throat. “Can we go back to the bomb? What the fuck is it?”

“It's not really a bomb,” Flint says. “It's a chemical agent, designed to eliminate people who have specific DNA strands.”

Alex can almost see the cogs turn in Greg's head. “How do you plan on dispersing it?”

“My team designed an atomizer,” Flint explains. He looks hesitant, like he knows he shouldn't be talking about that but he can't quite remember why. They've got through to him at least a little, Alex realizes. “I just need someone to build it.”

“Michael,” Alex explains for Greg's benefit. “He's a mechanic. And a genius.”

“So it's not a sanctioned mission,” Greg raises his eyebrows. “You and Dad have been working on this for...how long? Years? A Manes family mission to commit genocide?”

“We're doing what needs to be done,” Flint stops pacing and stands at attention.

“By fucking kidnapping Alex? Flint, did you stop even once to think about what you're doing?”

“They got into Alex's head. I'm doing this for his own good.”

Alex lets himself fall back until he's lying down on the mattress, prompting his brothers to look at him. His headache is getting worse, not better. “His words, in your mouth,” he tells Flint. “I expected that from Clay. Not from you. Have you forgotten everything, Flint? All of Granddad and Granny's history lessons?”

Flint looks away. Greg seems to seize the opportunity, and he stands up and grabs Flint's arm. “Let Alex go, Flint.”

“I can't.”

“Do you remember the last time we were all at the house together?” Greg lowers his voice, almost as if he doesn't want Alex to hear, but the room is small. “We promised we'd look out for him,” he nods toward Alex. “That we wouldn't let Dad get to him again.”

“He shouldn't have come back to Roswell,” Flint sets his chin stubbornly.

“Maybe not. But he's still our brother. We need to stop failing him.”

For the first time, Flint truly looks torn. “I'm trying to protect him from the aliens,” he says slowly.

“I think you and I both knows that's not who we need to protect him from,” Greg says.

Alex resists the urge to retort that he can protect himself−his current situation would tend to disagree, although he swears he'll free himself the minute his head stops swimming−and finds himself feeling oddly touched.

Flint looks down at his shoes.

“Let him go, Flint.”

“Fine,” Flint finally relents. He grabs a key from his pocket and tosses it to Alex, who scrambles to open the cuff around his wrist.

He eyes the gun in Greg waistband again, trying to figure out if it's worth making a go at it, but he decides to trust Greg. It's not like he can stand up, anyway.

“What now?” he asks.

“We should really get you to a hospital,” Greg says.

“No. I need to see that Michael's okay. And I need to stop their plan,” he waves at Flint, including Helena and his father as well. He gives Flint a defiant look. “I can't let you harm them.”

“I know,” Flint sighs. “Helena's gone to bring Guerin here.”

“Will you stand down?” Alex asks him. “Let me do what I have to do?”

“I won't try to harm you,” Flint holds his empty hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Or your family,” he adds reluctantly.

“Good.” Alex turns to Greg and holds a hand up to be helped into a standing position. “You have a phone? I'm going to need it.”

“Who put you in charge?” Greg asks, amused. “You have a concussion, Alex, you need medical care.”

“I know. I'm doing to call my doctor,” Alex answers. “After I call Michael, anyway. Anyone know where my leg is? We have a lot of work to do.”

[txylorwrjtes]

I’ve got you, sweetheart: Part 1

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warning(s): Mentions of abuse, actual abuse both physical and mentally, angst, crappy stepfather, brainwashed mother 

Character(s): Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel Novak, OC!Paul Y/L/N, OC!Blayke Y/L/N, Y/N Y/L/N

Summary: Your mother marries an extremely abusive man, who abuses you to the point you get brain damage. You have a hard time with speech and learning all of the things you already learned before, but you have Dean by your side to help you every step of the way.

Word count: 2,515

I’ve got you, sweetheart masterlist

You should have been used to this by now. The pain that you were feeling, you should have known that it would never go away unless you had informed your boyfriend of five years, Dean Winchester and his brother, Sam of what your stepfather was doing to you weekly. It was once a week that your stepfather would beat you to the point where he would leave you bruised. When your old bruises would begin to fade away, he would make sure that there were new ones.

Paul was your stepfather's name. Paul Y/L/N.

Now, Paul wasn't always this way. Of course, he was mentally abusive two months after your mother had started dating him. That's all he ever was. And he was only mentally abusive towards her. And even though he was such an evil man, he still believed in God and how a couple should never live together unless they are married.

You were just barely packing up to move into the bunker your boyfriend and his brother lived in. But of course, all of your plans came crumbling down when Paul had walked into yours and your mother's life.

Your mother was blind, didn't see what he was doing to her and even though you kept trying to get her to see what he was doing to your mother, she still wouldn't see. She wouldn't even listen and they ended up getting married.

That's when he began getting physical. With the both of you. Because he knew he had you both trapped inside of the house you once called a home. You couldn't leave with him in the house, not even to spend an hour with Dean, who began asking questions of what was going down at your house, wondering why you both couldn't see each other. But you brushed it off with a simple lie, knowing that you couldn't tell him anything because you knew it would just anger Paul more when he found out about what all you have told your boyfriend.

Dean was tough, he was protective. Especially when it came to you. Which is why you couldn't tell him anything.

Who knows what would he would do to your stepfather. Or worse, what your stepfather would do to Dean if he threw the first punch. Paul would play victim, accuse Dean of abusing you and have him thrown into jail no matter what you say to try and get him out.

You subconsciously ran the tips of your cold fingers along the big bruise on your side as you entered the bunker. Your mother and Paul had left the house to go to dinner. They would have taken you with, but you put your best acting skills to the test and pretended that you were sick just to get out of going. You knew it would be a risk, but when they had left, you snuck out of the house and ran all the way to the bunker. It was thirty minutes away by foot, but you didn't care. You just needed to see Dean.

As you made your way down the stairs that lead to the map room, you noticed that almost all of the lights were off except for the library. You furrowed your brows as you made your way into the room. The brothers should have been in Dean's mancave by now, watching the Sunday football game and enjoying a couple of beers, so you wondered who was in the library by now.

You made your way further into the room, but stopped in your tracks when you heard a familiar voice speak your name. Although it was familiar, you still jumped when your boyfriends mother, Mary Winchester, had spoke up behind you.

You placed your hand over your beating heart, relieved to know that it wasn't anybody else, knowing very well that Paul and your mother, who's name is Blayke, could've followed you here without you even realizing.

"I'm sorry, I just-.." You found yourself choking up on your words as you let out a breath. Mary gave you a concerned look, stepping closer towards you as your shoulders just started to shake as you sobbed. "I'm sorry." You repeated, covering your face as the tears dripped down your face.

Mary's concern turned to worry as she helped you sit down into one of the chairs. That's when she noticed the bruise on the right side of your face, just below your eye. She noticed that you had tried covering it up with make up, but the make up didn't do you justice, which she was glad about. "Oh, sweetheart." She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she gently brushed her fingers along your bruise. You flinched at the touch. "I'm going to get the boys, alright? You just stay here."

So you did just that, watching as she headed out of the library. It's not like you had anywhere else to go. Or that you wanted to go anywhere else. You wanted to be at the bunker, where the safety was in Dean's arms.

It was a few minutes until all three Winchester's came into the library, with Castiel, your angel friend.

"Baby.." You turned your head you heard Dean speak up. He was making his way around the table and to you as you stood onto your feet. He engulfed you into his arms, allowing you to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. "I missed you so much. Are you okay?" He questioned you as he pulled away. He cupped your face and examined the bruise on your face. His mother wasn't kidding when she told the boys how bad of a bruise it was. "What happened, who did this to you?"

You inhaled a deep breath as you played with the bracelet around your wrist. You cursed yourself for not covering up your bruise better, but maybe this was a sign. If all four of them knew about what your stepfather was doing, they could all help.

"Paul." You admitted. You watched as Dean's face fell into anger.

”Paul?" Sam repeated the name, curiosity rising in his voice. "As in the man your mom married?"

Biting down on your bottom lip, you nodded your head yes. You heard Dean sigh loudly, bringing his fingers up to his temple to massage it as Castiel came around the table, bringing two fingers to your forehead, he healed you, easing you from the pain your stepfather had given you.

"Sweetheart, why don't you come live with us?" Dean questioned. You turned down moving in with him once before because of Paul's beliefs, but he never knew why.

You shook your head, sitting yourself down onto the table. "I can't.." You said. Dean raised a brow up, wondering why you couldn't move in with him. "Paul believes that it's wrong to move in when you're not married to the person you are with. If I go back home to pack my bags, he'll just start beating me."

"Paul believes in that, yet he's an abusive son of a bitch?!" Dean's voice was growing angrier now as his hands balled up into fists. You could almost see the fire in his eyes. "No, you and I are both going back to your house and we are packing up your things. I will fight him if I have too."

You opened up your mouth to stop your boyfriend, but it was too late as you watched him march out of the library, heading to the garage. You let out a sigh, saying goodbye to the other three all before following Dean out to the garage as you hoped that goodbye wouldn't be for forever.

~~~

Dean pulled the Impala up your house, you could see that your mother and Paul were now standing outside on the front lawn. A look of pure anger was stretched across Paul's face, but that didn't seem to stop Dean from quickly getting out of the car and heading up to the man. A gasp escaped your mouth as you watched him throw a punch directly at his jaw, sending him to the ground.

You got yourself out of the Impala, even though Dean had told you to stay in the car while he went and got all of your stuff out of the house as the Winchester dropped down onto your stepfather and continuously decking the older man in the face. You screamed for him to stop, all though you wanted so badly for him to continue.

You grabbed ahold of Dean's arm and pulled him to his feet. He was breathing heavily from the anger that had been expressed. Your eyes trailed up to Paul's face as he got himself up from the ground. He wiped at his nose, which Dean had made bloody from the constant punches he threw at the man.

"What the hell is your problem, son?" Paul asked, acting as if he had done nothing wrong to anger Dean.

"No, what the hell is your problem?!" Dean yelled at the man, stepping closer towards him. "You laid your hands on my girlfriend, Blayke's blooded daughter. You abused her and left her bruised all over her body!" He pointed out the things that the older man had done to you. You didn't see it coming when He reached his arms out and grabbed Paul by the collar, pulling him dangerously close to him, his eyes burned into his. "And for that, she is coming to live with me, whether you like it or not."

Blayke stepped into the fight, stopping it before it could get any worse as she pushed the men apart. "That's enough, Dean Winchester!" She said. What she said next left you shock. "You're the one who has been constantly beating at our daughter, so do not blame my husband for this!"

"Are you hearing yourself, Blayke?" Dean found himself growing angry with your mother now. He would never lay a hand on you. You and his family knew that he loved you too much to ever hurt you. "Y/N has told me everything! How this bastard" He pointed over towards Paul, "mentally abused you, and then had started physically abusing the both of you when the two of you got married. He's gotten into your fucking head!"

"Nobody has gotten into my head." Blayke said, crossing her arms over her chest as she blatantly lied to protect her abusive husband. You felt tears welling up in your eyes at what she was saying, you couldn't believe it. "I know what you do to my daughter and I do not want you around my house. You come near the three of us again, I will call the cops on your ass. Trust me."

In that moment, you felt your heart sink to your stomach as Dean turned his head back to you. You knew his history with cops, how he constantly got arrested for trying to save the world. But nobody knew that he was a hero. They'd believe your mother and Paul over him at any time. You felt yourself being jerked back to your mom and your stepfather as you watched Dean walk away slowly, as if he didn't want to go, but he had no choice.

You screamed for him to turn around as Paul began dragging you back into the house you didn't want to be trapped in anymore. Your vision blurred with tears as you kicked at the man, punched at him, crying for Dean to come back. This was not what you wanted.

Everything felt like slow motion as you heard the front door slam and the sound of the Impala's engine roaring to life all before it drove away. You felt yourself being dropped to the ground all before you got yourself to your feet and began running to the door. But Paul grabbed ahold of you, dragging you to your room, where you were going to get another beating for getting Dean involved in the mess your stepfather had created.

~~~

It had been an hour of fighting with both your mom and your stepfather, you were screaming at your mom for being the lying bitch that she was, telling her that Paul had gotten inside of her head because that's exactly what happened. And it only angered Paul more as he continued to beat at you.

You let out a cry of pain as you laid on your bedroom floor, holding onto your stomach as he continued to kick at it. They weren't just any kicks, they were kicks out of pure hatred. They were hard and bruising, making you feel as though every bone in your body was broken. You found yourself screaming for Castiel, praying that he could hear you as you curled yourself up into a ball, sobs wracking through your body.

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

Paul practically spit out the words as he did something he wasn't thinking straight of; he kicked you hard in the head. Maybe he was thinking, though, considering how he continued to kick you until you were completely knocked out. All signs of your body not moving as your whole world went black.

And as though it wasn't an issue, the man left your room, doing the mistake of slamming the door shut behind him. That's when Castiel had appeared.

The angel looked down at you. "Y/N." He spoke your name in a whispered tone, hoping you could hear his voice. He hoped you would make movement. But when you didn't, he crouched down and pressed two fingers against the crook of your neck. You were still breathing, but you were unconscious and there was no way he would be able to heal something so severe, considering how his powers were weak at the moment.

So, he did what he could by teleporting you into the backseat of the Impala that was three houses down from yours.

The Winchester brothers both turned to look at you. Dean's heart broke at the sight of you. He had gone to the police station to tell the cops everything, and then went back to the bunker to get his brother and Castiel. He was going to come back and get you with the help of the other two men. He didn't even think this would have happened to you while he did all of this.

"She's still breathing." Castiel informed the brothers when he saw the worried looks stretched across their faces. "But we need to get to the hospital and fast."

Dean nodded his head, turning around slowly in his seat, he gripped tight onto the wheel and let out a breath to keep himself from crying as he began driving, heading the hospital where you would be taken care of. He just hoped it wouldn't be too late.

He somehow felt a bit relieved when he saw red and blue flashing lights appear and a police car turning into the neighborhood, heading to your house to arrest the cruel man you called your stepfather.

~~~

Next part || I’ve got you, sweetheart masterlist

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[watchwithbee]

the fosters, s1e11

tw: brief mentions of (fictional) past r*pe and s*xual a*sault, foster siblings having romantic/sexual relationships, poor mental health, father figure fighting an alcohol problem, somewhat shitty commentary but that’s everything I post lmao

1k words

(started about 10 minutes in)

HELL YEAH JUDE 

PREACH

STAND UP FOR YOURSELF BBY BOY

ALSO HEY BRANDON YOU PIECE OF SHIT

WHAT THE FUCK DUDE

I’M STILL PISSED AT HIM

Ju: you’re no better than liam >:(

Me: FUCK HIM UP BABY BOY

B: I love callie

[egregious puking noises]

Look ship whatever you want

Just acknowledge when things are problematic

Ship brallie to your heart’s content as long as you don’t condone in*est IRL

I’m not here to police ppl, I’m just giving opinions no one asked for cause that’s the entire purpose of this blog

Oh no jude

Poor boy

I literally hate brandon sm he needs to get his shit together

[aggressive vibing to the theme song]

[weeping] you’re surrounded by love and you’re wanted

I used to think the theme was cheesy

Now i literally love it sm

The RUBBER DUCKY

THE HAND HOLDING

Ugh ads

I really think people are overlooking jude’s feelings rn

Omfg stef’s mom (her name is sharon, bee)

I love her

I love jude and sharon’s dynamic it’s 

Chef’s kiss

Immaculate

Sh: I’m not gonna break up with him cause I love his bed

“Subtext, by calvin klein ;)”

Oh right this is the bed that fucks up their marriage

Ju: I’m a taco :D

Me: [I can’t find it but the clip from b99 where boyle says I’m gonna need a minute

It cuts to a black screen that says one minute later than cuts back to charles tear and snot stained face after clearly crying a lot

Boyle: sorry for the sobbing and the wailing and the weird snorting noise I made at the end

But yeah that’s me rn]

Oh god not more jesus lexi drama

I wish mariana and jesus got along better

Also jake t austin jesus walked so noah centineo jesus could run

I love that typed out it looks like I mean jesus the religious figure

Oh shit 

Lexi needs to stop gatekeeping and mariana needs to stop taking the division of time as a personal offense

I mean she and jesus are both taurus so I’m not surprised they’re clashing

Oh god callie why did you run away w wyatt

I hate wyatt

I hate the aliens dialogue

W: the government is making it seem fake oOoOoH

Literally hate it

Callie “he’s better off without me” addams foster is getting on my last fuckin nerve

Like the insensitivity?????

The not actually caring about the people around you under the guise of caring about them??????

The only difference between martyrdom and soupyslide is press coverage

The whole Wyatt And Callie On The Run thing is getting old and it’s been happening for like 10 minutes

Self sacrifice isn’t cute sis

WYATT WHAT THE FUCK

He claims to care about her and yet

Deletes the fucking voicemail from her mom??????????

What???????

Christ stef is fucking crying

Sh: my love…

STEF AND HER MOM BOTH CALL PPL MY LOVE 

SO FUCKING CUTE

Now wyatt is playing the good guy???F???

Okay hold up

Look

Callie and brandon are both at fault for kissing each other at stef and lena’s wedding

which was SO cute btw

the wedding not the gross kiss

I will say that callie, who was literally r*ped by L*am, was incredibly emotionally volatile then bc everything with him had been stirred up and she just found out he wouldn’t go to jail

No one would be surprised if she did something impulsive and self destructive bc of the trauma, especially something related to having an inappropriate relationship with a foster brother

Brandon knew about all of this and he wasn’t having flashbacks or a bunch of trauma about anything 

He should have stopped her or at least pushed her away 

And he didn’t 

I’m not saying Callie isn’t at fault too, what I am saying is that brandon had more responsibility in that situation and didn’t do what a decent person would do

WYATT AND BRANDON ARE BOTH BAD FOR CALLIE

SHE DOESN’T NEED A RELATIONSHIP RN SHE NEEDS A LOVING SUPPORTIVE FAMILY

Callie is so clearly sprialing rn

At least Wyatt is actually trying to help her

No one can handle a stressful situation in this show

I can’t describe how much I hate the pseudo end of the fucking world energy they’re going for

At least wyatt had the decency to not immediately try to share a bed w her

I like how flustered he gets cuddling her

That’s cute at least

I don’t like that callie didn’t consider that sharing a bed would make him nervous or uncomfy

OH SHIT THERE THEY ARE

MOMS HAVE ENTERED THE CHAT

And now callie, feeling trapped again, is going to run away yet again

And do something impulsive

Yet again

Jfc

Look I have trauma and a strong fight or flight response too, but I dont hurt the people I love

Hitching a ride with a trucker??????????? She’s going to put herself in a very avoidable irreversibly bad situation

I love mike getting to be a good dad figure

It’s rare with the whole alcoholic plot

I really hate that too btw

He has a comforting presence

Let him be a good dad

Mariana you can want to be vegan but pls don’t be a toxic vegan

Let people make their own choices

I love frazzled mike trying to be a good dad

I wish mariana would be a little bit more of a problem solver

If she doesn’t want any animal products or peanut butter offer to make your own lunch maybe??????

I hate how fast Jesus and Mariana forgave brandon after the whole “We ToOk YoU iN wHeN NoOnE eLsE wAnTeD yOu!!! sTeF iS mY mOm!!!!” bullshit

“Mom’s car won’t start” lmao

What the actual fuck callie 

If she’s this at risk for such self destructive behavior she needs way more help

HOT GIRL WITH PINK MULLET

MARRY ME

Oh god not the begging for a job scene

I hate this part

I’m a little over half way done with the episode so I’ll cut it here, part 2 will be up shortly

[saiilorstars]

Falling in Temptation

Previous chapters • Sequel to Stars Dance

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 11th Doctor/ Female OC

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Ch. 11: A Different Wire

Chapter summary: The Doctor charges on to find Amy and her baby. He's taken every precaution possible to keep everyone else safe, including putting Avalon into a lockdown. He's determined to keep his word to Rory and keep Avalon safe but when the battle seems to be over on Demons Run, they learn that the Silence has not only been watching Amy closely...Avalon has also been under their careful eyes.

Fairy Tale Memoirs (Companion story)

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 a hand from right to the left

And makes a circle round its head.

And then it dreams of pleasant things,

Of fountains filled with fairy fish

And trees that bear delicious fruit

And bow their branches at a wish.

Of arbors 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.

A little fairy comes at night,

her eyes are blue and her hair is brown

With silver spots upon her wings

And from the moon she flutters down

Amy held her baby daughter in her arms as she recited the poem she knew by heart. It was a stupid poem - lullaby - that her own mother used to sing to her before bed. Amy would never tell Avalon that, though. That woman thrived on fairy tales it was ridiculous. But now Amy could see why her mother would tell her the poem. It was soothing and magical. It calmed her daughter each time she read it. Maybe when this was all over, Avalon could take over in the fairy tale department because Amy felt like her voice lacked the talent Avalon owned.

But for the meantime, Amy had to do things on her own. It was a scary job to do when she had no idea where she was and the fact she didn't own one weapon against the people holding her captive. She could only hold her daughter close to her when she was allowed to carry her.

Melody was the only thing keeping Amy sane. At one month the baby girl was a cheery one, a gurgling one, and she never seemed to cry. It was as if Melody knew that things were tough and she didn't want to add more to the problem. Melody would attentively listen to the things her mother would tell her, from the sweet poems to the inspirational speeches. She loved them all.

Amy tried not to think about the soldiers inside the room she was in, all packed even with the eye-patch woman, Madame Kovarian.

"I wish I could tell you that you'll be loved. That you'll be safe and cared for and protected. But this isn't a time for lies. What you are going to be, Melody is very, very brave," Amy was quiet with her words, but only because she didn't want Melody to pick up on her stressed tone.

Madame Kovarian - the eye patch lady - was waiting at the front of the room, just like she always did. "Two minutes," she warned, not that Amy would look at her.

"But not as brave as they'll have to be," Amy continued with Melody close by. "Because there's someone coming. I don't know where he is, or what he's doing, but trust me. He's on his way. There's a man who's never going to let us down. And not even an army can get in the way..." She trailed off when she saw the soldiers with Kovarian coming for her again. Not her, but her. Melody. Amy instinctively backed away a couple steps. "Leave her, just you leave her! Please leave her! Leave her!"

It was the same thing each time, and each time Amy fell for it.

Kovarian took Melody from her and returned the infant to the bassinet at the front of the room. Amy was right on Kovarian's trail though and stole a last look at Melody. "He's the last of his kind. He looks young, but he's lived for hundreds and hundreds of years. And wherever they take you, Melody, however scared you are, I promise you, you will never be alone." She leaned down and kissed Melody's forehead. "Because this man is your father."

~ 0 ~

A grim Avalon awaited in the console room for the Doctor and Rory to return, practically at the doors. Eventually, the two men entered the TARDIS and took a long breath. It'd been another close one but a very good success.

Avalon and the Sapling had promptly waited for them to return, but the former looked close to bursting from anger.

"Good moment?" Avalon crossed her arms with a raised eyebrow. "Success? Victory?"

"I think you know," Rory pointed at her, moving to give her a hug but Avalon stepped back, making him sigh.

"You don't get hugs until my lockdown is lifted," she snapped and looked at the Doctor next, "Goes for you too."

"Ava, we've been through this," the Doctor began as he followed her towards the console with Rory.

"Give it a rest, big brother, it's not gonna work," Lena Reynolds poked her head from behind the console rotor. "Better spend your time over here to get that location the Cybermen told us."

The Doctor grumbled under his breath but followed Lena's suggestion. She'd been recruited after ganger Amy had been deactivated in hopes of finding the real Amy faster. Apart from that, Avalon had been set into a deep, serious lockdown in the TARDIS after the events in the ganger factory. Avalon literally screamed, thrashed and at one point was locked in her bedroom, but nothing would get through to her. They were trying to keep her safe and in return she wanted to kill them.

The only thing that somewhat calmed her was bringing Lena along. It'd worked so far but Avalon already had thin patience. One month was about it.

~ 0 ~

"C'mon, at least let me help get the people," Avalon was following the Doctor around the console, resorting to bugging the hell out of him until he agreed, like always. The screaming hadn't helped and the fact she'd kicked him in the shin definitely didn't do any favors.

She would resort to old fashioned begging.

"Avalon, you know the rules. You need to stay in here for your own safety."

"Oh c'mon! You've sent Lena to pick up a Silurian! That right there was very irresponsible!"

"Vastra is an old friend and she wouldn't hurt anyone...anymore," the Doctor kept his gaze fixated on the controls because the moment he met Avalon's begging eyes, he would fall right for it.

"This is ridiculous! You can't keep me in here, you know!? I do have rights! I should know, I've been in an actual jail!"

"I could very well drop you off at UNIT," the Doctor warned, or threatened, whichever one would make her understand. "I'm sure an old friend of mine wouldn't mind keeping an eye on you."

"What?" frowned Avalon. "You are beyond ridiculous! I can't believe you're not using one of your biggest assets to get Amy back! This is beyond me - this is about our friend who was kidnapped! With her baby!"

"I know that!" he snapped, finally turning to her. At least she wasn't begging anymore. "And it's because I've already lost Amy that I'm not risking you! Never you, Avalon."

Avalon paused at his sudden softness. "Don't do that," she said after a moment.

"Don't do wh-"

"-don't go all soft and mushy on me when it doesn't mean a damn thing," she snapped. "I'm tired of it. At least your ganger had the decency to be honest before we let him die."

"Oh, here we go again!" the Doctor flapped his arms in frustration. Every damn time they had an argument, his stupid ganger would come up in the conversation. It drove the Doctor crazy not knowing what his ganger had told Avalon just before they escaped the Flesh. "If you're going to keep bringing that up, the least you can do is tell me what he said that got you so riled up with me!"

"It's the fact that he was able to be honest with me and you can't! That's incredibly sad and each time I remember it hurts, do you get that? It hurts. You hurt me."

Her words punctured each of his hearts. Her eyes had watered up as soon as she said them. That's what got him. She wasn't angry with him, she was disappointed and hurt. Hurt because of him. And he had no idea how to fix it, especially when he didn't have the context.

"Ava," he slowly touched her cheeks until he had successfully cupped her face without being slapped for it. "You need to understand that everything I'm doing is to keep you safe. I can't lose you too. You have to be different."

"Different from what?" she begged for at least one answer to her millions of questions.

"From everyone before you," he smiled sadly. He wanted to change the story so badly, he wasn't letting himself think about himself for one second. All he allowed himself to think about were the people that had come before Avalon who had suffered terrible fates because he hadn't been careful. "Have I ever told you the story of Donna Noble?"

"No, who is she?"

"She is the woman who used to travel with me before you and the Ponds. She was my best friend. She saved the 27 stolen planets from being destroyed. She was so loud and so courageous - you remind me of her sometimes. You even have the ginger hair to match."

Avalon felt the 'but' coming soon. He had never talked about his previous companions and she'd never really dared to ask considering what their endings had probably been. "...what happened to her?"

The Doctor sighed and let his hands drop from her face. "I happened. I was selfish and I wasted a regeneration and put all that energy into a jar. Donna absorbed that energy in what we call a metacrisis. She became part Time Lord and that could never be. She nearly died if I hadn't wiped her memories."

"She...lost her memories?" Avalon gulped. This is what many of her stories of the Doctor didn't contain: the tragic endings of his trips and his companions. "Like...everything?"

"Everything that had to do with me and her travels. Avalon, she was the most important woman in the universe. Different alien species still sing about the Doctor-Donna because of what she did and who she saved. And I had to erase everything from her head. She's off living her life on Earth and I can never see her again. And she can never remember what she did in her travels." It was the first time that Avalon saw true, genuine tears in the Doctor's eyes. He was reliving that terrible moment of his lives, firmly believing it was his fault. "She was my best friend, Avalon, and I lost her. And I've lost people I considered more than a friend. You want to know where the last person I had feelings for is at right now?"

"No-" Avalon's voice had turned frail, full of guilt.

"She's stuck in another universe. I did that to her. Twice. She can never come back."

Avalon felt the twinge of guilt double in that one second. Okay, maybe she hadn't been thinking as logically as he obviously had, but in her defense he wouldn't let her. She just wanted to be with him, be happy together. "I'm sorry," she whispered, bringing one hand to rub her other arm. "I-I didn't think about that stuff. But I mean...Doctor, you never say anything about your past. I stopped asking questions because I assumed that with time you would trust us to tell us on your own."

"It's not about trusting you, it's about how you'll react to it. There are horrors that come with me. Tragedies. And no matter how much I try, I can't stop them. Amy and Rory have already become part of that list- their daughter who was unborn is already on the list. I'm not gonna make that mistake with you. You are where the cycle ends."

Now this Avalon could appreciate because now she knew what he meant. He stopped being cryptic with her and just told her the truth. It was a truth she couldn't discard so easily because it was so important to him, but she wasn't going to let it ruin what she knew could be so good for them both.

She would just need to prioritize first. Her patience could last a bit longer now.

"Okay, I hear you," she said, stepping closer to him. She brought her hands to his face now, smiling encouragingly. "But I'd also like if you heard me."

"Avalon-"

"I propose that for the moment we set aside our differences and work together to get Amy back. Afterwards, we can resume this conversation. Sound fair?"

The Doctor would nod if he didn't already know what her proposal consisted of. "You can't go outside."

Avalon's smile wanted to falter but she kept it right on her face. "You'll find that I do as I please. Besides, it's been one month and they haven't done anything else. I bet their minds are so preoccupied with Amy that they don't even remember about little ole me. Now c'mon, I know who's next on that list of recruitment and I so want to be the one who picks her up."

"No, Avalon. It's just too dangerous."

"It's literally a prison - how much safer can it get? I don't think whoever's behind this is stupid enough to go barging into the highest maximum security prison, do you?"

The Doctor swayed his head, able to see that clear logic. "Well..."

"Please? Please? Please? Please? Please!?" the ginger clung to his arms as she begged, though now she did with a wide smile, "You can even send Rory or Lena with me, if you want. Or you can come, or-"

"Fine," he covered her mouth. See, he shouldn't have looked into her eyes. "But only because it's a prison and I know if River tries anything she'll be shot down."

Avalon took his hand off her mouth and frowned, "Since when did you become so doubtful of River? She's done nothing but help us every time we see her."

"Yeah and half the time it's because she made the mess," the Doctor pointed out. They all loved pointing out how many mistakes he made that River had to come and help fix. "Plus, there's things I've learned about her, things that make me nervous."

"Like what?"

The Doctor gaze on her was long. There was no way he could tell her that a good part of his reluctance with River stemmed from the fact River was meant to harm Avalon. "Future things."

Avalon rolled her eyes. "Oh, well, please, that's more than enough explanation. I completely understand. But you know what, I'm taking Rory to go get River. Thank you!" she gave him a quick hug then started shouting for Rory as she ran into the hallway.

The Doctor really hoped he hadn't messed.

~ 0 ~

In Stormcage, alarms blared as River Song, dressed in a Victorian gowm, swayed her way towards her cell. It nnver got old how frantic the place would get whenever she would pop away for a trip. It wasn't like she wouldn't come back! She stopped in front of a wall phone and picked it up, "Oh, turn it off. I'm breaking in, not out. This is River Song, back in her cell..." She was about to hang up when she thought of something else and pressed the phone back to her ear. "Oh, and I'll take breakfast at the usual time. Thank you!" She finally hung up and continued down the corridor but stopped when she saw two silhouettes in the dark, one specifically dressed as a Roman. "Oh, are you boys dressing up as Romans now? I thought nobody read my memos."

Avalon stepped out of the shadows first with an amused smile, "Your memos are about Roman costumes?" she glanced at Rory, snickering, "This is why I like her!"

Rory shook his head at her and got to business. He wasn't pleased that the Doctor had broken his promise and allowed Avalon out, even if it was to a prison of maximum security. Rory wanted to get out of there fast and return Avalon back to the TARDIS. "Dr. Song? It's Rory, and Avalon. Sorry, have we met yet? Time streams, I'm not quite sure where we are..."

"Yes. Yes, we've met," River nodded, sounding rather sad. Avalon could tell, despite the darkness that surrounded them. "Hello, Rory, Avalon."

"What's wrong?" Avalon asked her, taking a step forwards until Rory gripped her arm to keep her from taking another one.

"It's my birthday," River nervously laughed.

"Oh, happy birthday," Avalon smiled, now understanding her current attire, "That's why you broke out, then. Where'd you go? Victorian London?" River nodded her head. "You know, the Doctor's yet to take us there."

"You'll be there soon enough," River promised, though she didn't look very happy about the idea. Avalon presumed this was another 'spoiler'. River knew something that they couldn't know about yet.

"I hope you didn't go alone, though," Avalon said, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere lighter. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to do much.

"Um...somewhere, with a special someone," River nodded, still forcing a tight smile on her face. She couldn't tell Avalon anything of where they'd gone for her birthday. If she did, she'd have to explain why it was only them two and no Ponds nor Doctor.

"We need your help," Rory declared. Things weren't moving fast enough.

River nodded and went to her cell, pulling out her diary to pinpoint their timelines. "Where are we then?"

"They've taken Amy," Avalon said just as River pinpointed their timelines.

River froze for a moment then turned around with widened eyes. "Demons Run."

"How...how did you know?" Rory blinked as did Avalon.

"I'm from your future. I always know," River tried to keep herself calm as she glanced back at the two, "Why on earth are you wearing that?" she eyed Rory's Roman garbs.

"The Doctor's idea."

"Of course. His rules of engagement," River rolled her eyes, "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee."

"Look ridiculous," Avalon remarked with a smirk.

"Have you considered heels?" River joked.

"They've taken Amy. And our baby," Rory was in no mood for jokes at the moment, "The Doctor's getting some people together, we're going after her, but he needs you too."

"I can't," River mumbled, her eyes teary. "Not yet, anyway."

"River?" Avalon was confused by the change of attitude that took place in the brunette. She'd fought so hard with the Doctor to let her come get River and now the woman was going to leave them hanging!?

"This is The Battle of Demons Run," River neared them, "The Doctor's darkest hour. He'll rise higher than ever before and then fall so much further. And...I can't be there till the very end."

"Why not?"

"Because this is it," River shuddered a breath, "This is the day he finds out who I am, when everyone finds out."

"Timelines," Avalon could understand the reason and had to resign her insistence. But just as River had explained, her expression turned frantic.

"Avalon you need to stay away from that place! Demons Run is where everything happens - it's where you are in most danger!"

Avalon groaned. "Not you too, River. You're sounding just like everyone else."

But River was adamant to be heard. "I am serious! You know why the Doctor will fall the hardest here than any other time he's had battles? Because of you."

Avalon's eyebrows knitted together, frankly offended that now it was all being blamed on her. "What, so it's my fault things go wrong?"

"No, it's mine," River didn't hesitate to answer, startling both Avalon and Rory. "I should've been more ready, but I wasn't and now I need the Doctor to step up and keep you safe. You need to stay in the TARDIS until it's all over." River's eyes flickered to Rory, pleading him to heed her warning.

Rory didn't need to be told twice what he already knew. But now if River was begging for the same thing, then there must be a serious good reason. "She's been in the TARDIS this whole time. She only came for you."

"Yeah and you're making me look bad here," Avalon folded her arms, deeply scowling. "What the hell, River!?"

"Tell the Doctor that he needs to listen to me," River told Rory as if Avalon wasn't shooting her daggers.

"You got it," Rory nodded and this time held Avalon's arm tightly as they headed back for the TARDIS

~ 0 ~

This time there was no getting discussion with the Doctor. Once he heard what River told them, he had no hesitation to shout like Avalon - making it an interesting fight when they both matched volumes - until she got the point that she wouldn't be leaving the TARDIS.

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" Avalon was as red as her hair, possibly more. "You can't just bench me!"

"Oh I can and I am," the Doctor leveled her glare with his own. And given his age, he had a better one than Avalon...but not by much. "You are staying here with Lena-" he gestured to the woman in question who was being forced to watch the entire argument unfold, "-and taking control of the TARDIS."

"Avalon, if River says this is what has to happen then we should follow it," Lena chimed in only to get the same hard look from Avalon. "She's from the future, she knows what happens."

"Today's the day I start hating River," Avalon resolved. "Only question is will you be added to the list?" she landed her hard, blue eyes on the Doctor.

"If it means keeping you safe then so be it," he resolved as well. "I told you I wasn't making the same mistakes again."

He could practically see the smoke coming out of her ears at this point. She walked up a few steps until she could better look him in the eyes. There were so many words running through her head right now, but she wanted to find the words that would sting the most. It was one of her flaws. She would default to hurting people one way or another in retaliation.

"You know what?" she raised her head, allowing him to see how serious she was. "I bet that when you had to wipe Donna's memories you didn't give her a choice either, huh?"

The right words indeed.

She saw the pain strike across the Doctor's face in two seconds flat. There was a hint of betrayal, asking her how could she turn that against him when it was such a difficult memory to share.

She tilted her head to the side, letting him know that she was studying the effects of her words on him. "Remember me when you're out there, winning or losing. I'm supposed to be your friend, someone you value apparently, yet you won't let me make my own choice. Some Fairy Tale Man you are." She turned around and stormed into the hallway.

The Doctor was left to process her strong sting until he remembered Lena was still there. She was gazing at him sympathetically, and perhaps sorrowfully.

"I'm sorry about her," Lena felt compelled to apologize on behalf of her sister. Despite not knowing what Avalon was talking about, it clearly hurt the Doctor a lot. "When she's angry she'll say anything to win. Once she's cooled off she'll realize how insensitive she was. I'm not excusing her, I'm just telling you what's going to happen...in case you don't want to forgive her for that."

A brief smile appeared on the Doctor's face. "Please," his sarcastic tone pretty much stated he would always forgive Avalon. "Ava is Ava and that's who she needs to be...who I want her to be."

Lena nodded and did patiently wait for him to finish that sentence but when he didn't, she did. "Because you like her. A lot." For once, Lena was satisfied to be the one who left the Doctor speechless. She didn't have a lot moments like those. "I've always known, big brother," she shrugged. "Just like I've always known where my sister's feelings lie. That's why you're so upset with each other, right?"

"Baby sister, I really think this is not the time to discuss such matters. We have Amy and her baby to find," the Doctor turned to the console. They were about to finally land where Amy was and that required all of his attention.

Lena sighed but gave a nod of her head. "But are you sure you're going to be able to concentrate?"

"Oh, I'm not worried about me," the Doctor said, clearly lying but there was something else he was thinking about it. "I'm worried about you considering you're going to be stuck in here with Avalon."

Lena laughed softly. "Well, the Sapling will be here with me too."

"Oh, he's just as angry as his mother," the Doctor shook his head. The Sapling had gotten both his and Avalon's anger and that was a very poor combination. He might self combust if he didn't calm down soon.

"I'll be okay with them, but to be honest..." Lena tilted her head to the side, "I don't know how long Avalon is going to last in here. She's kind of like you. Staying still isn't for her, much less when someone she loves is in danger."

The Doctor solemnly nodded. He knew that too, which was why he needed to work fast.

~ 0 ~

Madame Kovarian was an astute woman, not to mention an incredible actress. Her base was being overran by the Doctor and his army that foolishly thought they were winning. All she had to do was pretend to be afraid that her plan was going to ruins.

"I need to get off this station," she ordered the nearest soldier with her. "Bring me the child and prepare the Silence."

"Yes, ma'am," the soldier nodded and went off with another soldier to retrieve the infant.

"Ma'am, the Silence?" another of the soldiers reluctantly asked. None of the soldiers - none of the army for that matter - were that happy with Kovarian's decision to work with the Silence. From the very beginning they felt like the Silence would do whatever they wanted, dismissing Kovarian's orders. For the record, they hadn't yet, but no one trusted those creatures. Who could trust a creature they couldn't remember?

After they'd been killed off on Earth - yet another warning from their Colonel to keep their eyes peeled when it came to the Doctor - everyone figured Kovarian was done with the Silence. After all, they'd done their part in the job. They cared for the child while she grew up. They were supposed to be over now.

"They're not done here," Kovarian rounded into a new hallway, quickening her pace each time she heard a different bullet downstairs. "The Silence has yet to retrieve the girl for me."

"But we have the child, ma'am," the soldier insisted, briefly exchanging glances with his other comrades. They were all just as nervous. "The infant. Isn't that what we needed?"

"Yes, but I want the other one too," Kovarian said and finally stopped in front of the airlock that would bring her to her own private ship. She turned around and prepared to wait for the infant to be handed over. "I cannot leave with just one."

"So the Silence are still here, then?" the soldier, just like the rest, started looking around with nervous eyes.

Kovarian smirked. "They never left. They will do the other job and bring me the girl. All we have to do now is wait. And watch." Her smirk widened at the thought of what was coming. "Watch how the Doctor will 'win' before he truly falls."

~ 0 ~

"This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong!" Avalon shouted at the TARDIS monitor as if the people on the other side of the screen could hear. Her hand was gripping the console in utter fury.

"Avalon, stop that," Lena scolded her sister and had to physically pry Avalon's hands off the console.

"Mother, I've never seen your face get so red!" the Sapling said and because Avalon caught his fearful face, she calmed down a bit.

"Sorry," she apologized and exhaled heavily. "I just...I should be out there! I should be helping!"

"Yeah, me too," the Sapling folded his arms and pouted like only a child would. "I can literally grow up like a giant and Father still didn't let me go out!"

"First of all, you're a child," Lena wagged a finger at him. "And second of all, Avalon, you know they're just trying to help and I think you were fairly rude to the Doctor. In fact, you were horrible to him." Avalon rolled her eyes but even as she looked away, Lena could see the guilt on her face. "I don't know what the hell you were talking about in the end, but I know that really hurt him."

Avalon's gaze slowly fell to the bright floor. Of course she knew she'd hurt him. That was the point. She turned back to the monitor and watched through their security feed the battle that was unfolding on the main bridge. The Doctor had disappeared after causing mass pandemonium. The strange part was that they'd lost visual on Kovarian too. She started switching through the security feed, watching Vastra the Silurian and her human wife Jenny basically kick soldiers' asses near the control room and in the next were several soldiers running down the hallway with a bassinet in hand.

"They have the baby!" she exclaimed.

Lena rushed to her sister's side, as did the Sapling, and saw the same thing Avalon had found. The bassinet bounced with each step the soldiers too. "We have to let them know!" Lena said.

Avalon moved along the console with natural speed, her fingers already knowing exactly which controls to use. Lena raised an eyebrow at her sister, her expression question enough.

"He finally taught me how to drive the TARDIS," Avalon answered quietly, momentarily pausing.

"Oh Avalon," Lena sighed. "You really have to control that tongue of yours."

Avalon blinked away the tears in her eyes and focused on getting through to someone. "Yeah, I know, I'm an outright bitch."

"I didn't say that-"

"You didn't have to," snapped Avalon, but not necessarily at her sister. It was information she already knew based on everything she had lived before coming to the TARDIS.

"Are you calling father?" the Sapling trailed after his mother, nonethewiser of the conversation around him.

"I'm trying but as usual he's not answering," Avalon groaned. "Maybe he should have a cellphone or something! Nobody's answering! Lena!" Lena flinched at the sudden call of her name. "Watch the monitor! Tell me what's going on!"

"Right!" Lena hurried back to the monitor and started going through each camera. "Uh, well, I see Rory! He's gone off with someone else in the hallway! Oh! Vastra and Jenny have gotten into the control room! Ah! Those monk things - they've nearly taken care of an entire room! Don't look Sapling." She ushered the Sapling away from the monitor. "Avalon, they brought the bassinet to Kovarian!"

"They did what!?" Avalon screeched. "That's it! I'm going out there!"

"No you can't!"

"The Doctor can yell at me all he wants - I deserve it, I know, but it's a baby! And more importantly, it's Amy's and Rory's baby! I'm going to be good for once!" Avalon turned and dashed for the doors.

"Avalon, please don't!" Lena went after her but Avalon yanked open the doors.

"Just stay inside, Lena. You and the Sapling will be just fine in here!" Avalon smiled at her sister and child before running out.

"Oh God, my big brother's going to be very crossed with me," Lena hurried for the monitor in hopes of finding where the Doctor was at the moment. She kept going through tabs again until a Silence popped on her screen. She yelped and stumbled back as if the creature would come out from the screen. "Not you again, definitely not you again..."

'I know you can see me, Reynolds,' the fact it was actually talking to her made her yelp again. 'You have come to us just like you're meant to. Now you will come with us. Tick, tock..."

"Aunt Lena, he looks like the Scream," the Sapling had moved over to the monitor but as soon as he did Lena pushed him away.

"No, you stay there! And listen to me, Sapling, because right now you're the only one who's going to remember. You can't see him which means he can't affect you. Remind me that I saw him, and that he's threatening to take my sister."

"But how do you know he's talking about Mother?"

"Because it's always about my sister," Lena regrettably said. "I don't know what it is about my sister but there's always something threatening her, like-like she's just destined to be. Just remind me, okay? Remind me when I look away. We need to find the Doctor."

The Sapling nodded.

~ 0 ~

The Doctor had made his way to the control room where Vastra, Jenny and another old friend(ish) Dorium were in. They were so close to finally getting the hell out of that place, but he had to admit the dark satisfaction he felt knowing that the entire was but one step away from crumbling into nothing.

He sat in front of the controls and turned his chair just as Strax the Sontaran brought in Colonel Mantel, the leader of the army they'd basically destroyed and were now mere stragglers. "Sorry, Colonel Manton, I lied. Three minutes, 42 seconds."

"Colonel Manton, you will give the order for your men to withdraw," Strax ordered.

"No. Colonel Manton... I want you to tell your men to run away," the Doctor told the man instead.

"You...what?" Manton raised an eyebrow, not quite following.

"Those words. Run away. I want you to be famous for those exact words. I want people to call you Colonel Run-Away. I want children laughing outside your door, cos they've found the house of Colonel Run-Away," he stood up and pointed at him, "And, when people come to you, and ask if trying to get to me through the people I love... is in any way a good idea... I want you to tell them your name. Oh, look! I'm angry. That's new-" his voice hardened, as did his eyes. He walked up to the man and looked him in the eyes, his lips curling into a smirk when the Colonel visibly gulped. "I'm really not sure what's going to happen now."

Two more Silurians walked into the control room and with them came Kovarian. Despite her situation, she didn't seem that upset. "The anger of a good man is not a problem. Good men have too many rules," she had the foul decency to speak.

The Doctor slowly looked back at her. He forgot about the Colonel and moved onto her instead. "Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many."

Kovarian glanced at Manton calmly. "Give the order," she surprised everyone in the room with that statement, "Give the order Colonel Run-Away."

~ 0 ~

Amy was surprised as she heard a knocking on the door. She was pretty nervous given what was going on downstairs. Quickly, she tried to find something to use for protection, "Who's that? Who's there?" she called and picked up a thermometer, eyeing it with hesitation, "You watch it, cos I'm armed and really dangerous and...cross!" Of course once she heard Rory's voice she froze, wondering if it was truly him. "Rory?"

"Yeah, it's me!" he called back, "Hang on a minute."

"They took her. Rory, they took our baby away," she explained with shame, feeling like it was her fault her baby had been taken away. She should have fought stronger for her daughter.

But the doors slid open to reveal Rory holding Melody in his arms. "Now, Mrs Williams...that is never, ever going to happen."

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God," Amy dashed for him and Melody. She took her daughter into her arms and quickly checked her for any visible injury. "Where's she been, what have they done to her..."

"She's fine. Amy, she's fine. I checked," Rory promised her. As soon as he had his daughter in arms, he made sure that she was safe and clear of any mark. He didn't want to let her go until he was with Amy. "She's beautiful. Oh God, I was going to be cool. I wanted to be cool. Look at me." The tears just kept pooling in his eyes.

Amy laughed at him but she was crying too. "Crying Roman with a baby, definitely cool. Come here, you!" she grabbed him with her free arm and kissed him.

The Doctor had found the room but not with a pretty view. "Ugh, kissing and crying, I'll be back in a bit."

"Oi, you," Rory snapped his fingers at him. "Get in here, now." The Doctor shrugged and happily came into the room. "My daughter. What do you think?"

The baby could barely blink at him but she did squeal, although he didn't think it was for her. She was just happy to see people that weren't so mean to her mother.

"Hello. Hello, baby," the Doctor waved at the baby girl.

"Melody," Amy cut in.

"Melody! Hello, Melody Pond! "

"Melody Williams," Rory was getting tired of the name switches.

"..is a geography teacher," Amy shook her head, "Melody Pond is a superhero!"

The Doctor leaned over to listen as Melody gurgled, "Well, yes, I suppose she does smell nice. Never really sniffed her, maybe I should give it a go. Amelia Pond, c'mere!" he hugged the new mother.

"Doctor!" she exclaimed.

"I'm sorry we were so long."

"It's OK, I knew you were coming. All of you," Amy smiled but her eyes did search behind the two men. "Well, where's Avalon? She needs to meet my daughter. She's got a lot of singing to do cos this one-" she nodded to Melody, "-likes the singing!"

"Um, Avalon's a bit indisposed right now," the Doctor's eyes flickered to the side. "Actually, I was thinking of letting her burn this place down afterwards and see if that'll cool her down."

Amy arched an eyebrow at him but since he was looking at her now, she turned her attention to Rory. "What did you two do?" she assumed they were both in on it, otherwise Rory would be upset.

"The necessary," Rory answered without hesitation. He stood by all the choices they'd made so far. "Avalon's going to be safe."

"Doctor! Take a look," Vastra entered the room, "They're leaving," and she pointed at the large glass window on the side of the room, "Demons Run is ours without a drop of blood spilled. My friend, you have never risen higher!" she cheered while the Doctor looked out and saw the army leaving the base.

Though behind him, Rory swallowed hard when he remembered River's words earlier.

~ 0 ~

The Doctor had made a hasty return to the control room, along with Vastra, when he heard Lena's voice frantically calling through the speakers. When the hell did Lena get out of the TARDIS? And if she was out of the TARDIS then Avalon...

"I'm so sorry!" Lena practically cried to him when he reached the control room. "She just...she saw the soldiers taking the baby and she ran out to help!"

"Course she would," the Doctor rubbed a hand over his face. "Okay, okay, it's fine because..." he laughed nervously, "The soldiers are leaving anyways and-and everything is safe. Everyone is safe. She is safe."

"Um, Doctor?" Dorium called from his seat. "I've hacked into the software. Wasn't very complicated given that I sold it to them. But I've, uh, I've found something interesting."

"More interesting than this entire place and plan of that woman's?" Lena asked, thinking it probably paled to everything they'd gone through so far. "And did you know there's Silence here? The Sapling told me that!"

"There are no Silence here, Lena," the Doctor said dismissively as he gazed at the screen.

"I thought that too but the Sapling was very adamant that I told him to remind me."

"Lena, let's focus on the plans here and then we'll see about the Silence."

Lena agreed but only because the Doctor already seemed so lost on whatever was on the screen. "So, what is it, then?"

"It's records about the child," Dorium replied. "They are very extensive."

"They've been scanning her since she was born and I think they found what they were looking for," Dorium pulled up a tab on the large screen with a DNA module.

"Human DNA," the Doctor assumed as he moved closer with Lena.

"Look closer," Vastra instructed, "Human plus. Specifically...human plus Time Lord."

"But that's..." Lena looked at the Doctor, "Did I get my biology wrong or..."

"She's human," the Doctor blinked, just as confused as Lena was. He didn't even know why they were having this conversation in the first place. "She's Amy and Rory's daughter."

"You told me about your people. They became what they did through prolonged exposure to the time vortex," Vastra reminded, "The untempered schism..."

"Over billions of years, it didn't just happen!"

"So how close is she? Could she even regenerate?"

"No, no! I don't think so..."

Vastra raised an eyebrow, "You don't sound so sure."

"Because I don't understand how this happened!" the Doctor snapped at her and looked back at the screen again with no clue in his mind. None of it made sense!

"Which leads me to ask... when did it happen?"

"When?" Lena raised an eyebrow, "Are you really asking that?"

"I'm afraid so," Vastra nodded.

"When?" the Doctor still hadn't caught up.

"I am trying to be delicate...I know how you can blush," Vastra pointed and Lena couldn't help but giggle, "When did this baby... begin?"

The Doctor's face did indeed flush at the question, "Oh, you mean..."

"Quite."

"Oh c'mon you guys, you're not really gonna sit here and try to pinpoint a time of conception...are you?" Lena looked between the two, almost laughing if the situation wasn't so dire.

"She's right," the Doctor pointed at her, "That's all human-y, private stuff, it just sort of...goes on. They don't put up a balloon, or anything."

"But could the child have begun on the TARDIS, in flight, in the vortex," Vastra began.

"No, no, impossible!" the Doctor cut her off, "It's all running about, sexy fish vampires and blowing up stuff. And Rory wasn't even there at the beginning. Then he was dead, then he didn't exist, then he was plastic. Then I had to reboot the whole universe...long story. So technically the first time they were on the TARDIS together, in this version of reality, was on their..." his eyes widened as the realization struck him.

"Oh..." Lena had also caught up on the date.

"On their what?" Vastra dreaded to ask.

"On their wedding night," the Doctor swallowed hard, "But that doesn't make sense! You can't just cook yourself a Time Lord."

"Of course not, but you gave them one hell of a start and they've been working very hard ever since."

"And they truly have," Dorium agreed before pulling up another screen. "Kovarian's team spreads through time and space, Doctor. They've been keeping record of somebody, alright. Take a look."

The screen page he had was full of a list of names, titles, for documents. Upon a closer look, they were discovered to be videos too.

"Big brother," Lena suddenly called, her voice frail with newfound fear, "Why do all of these have my sister's name on them?"

The Doctor had noticed that detail straightaway. He didn't answer the question as instead he practically pushed Dorium's chair away to take reign over the controls. He started scrolling through the page, finding it to be endlessly filled with different videos and documents. He got more frustrated the longer the list became. Finally, his finger accidentally clicked on one title.

Avalon was a teenager, perhaps fifteen or so, and she was in her school uniform. She was angry as hell - which was confirmation that this was truly Avalon - and raging to Rory about something. The audio wasn't very comprehensible but it was clear when she managed to make a dent against a street pole with her bare fist. The act froze Avalon, and Rory, in her spot. She brought her fist, which was turning purple fast, and then checked the pole to make sure it'd been her who did it.

"She was always so freakishly strong," Lena whispered, eyes fresh with tears as dread took her over.

"...as are some Time Lords," Vastra made her comment knowing the reaction she would get from the Doctor.

"Don't you even go there," he pointed a finger at her face, nearly poking one of her eyes out. "I won't hear such a stupid idea, such a-a completely insane idea!"

"You said the Silence had been after you and your friends for months," Vastra continued calmly despite having the wrath of the man radiating towards her. "Who's to say that they weren't after just one of you? They already had Amy..."

"But this is Avalon!"

"Precisely. What exactly are her medical records?" Vastra's eyes flickered to Lena for the answer.

"U-um, well...I don't know?" the woman meekly answered, shrugging her shoulders. "I mean...I never really saw them. But..." she hated where she was going with the conversation, "There is the fact that she's adopted."

"Really?" Vastra raised a scale-green eyebrow at the Doctor. The man refused to even entertain the idea, so he turned away. "Adopted?"

"Yeah," Lena nodded her head. "I mean, we don't know who her birth mother is and we're not entirely sure if my Dad is her Dad so..."

"There is a possibility that the child..." Vastra purposely didn't finish until the Doctor would finally give her the attention she needed.

"No!" he snapped at her and basically everyone in the room. "Absolutely not! Avalon is not a Time Lord! She's from New Earth! She's not - she's not their daughter! I think I would have noticed if I was carrying the whole family!"

"...but would you have, though?" Lena's meek question made him pause.

He was growing angrier by the second, but his anger wasn't exactly directed at them. It was more to himself. If this was real, and he had missed it...he would never forgive himself. "She can't be Melody because...because her name's not even Melody," he stuttered the answer as if he was now just trying to convince himself it wasn't real.

"Pull up her records, Dorium," Vastra commanded the blue alien. "The infant's and the woman's. If they are the same, Doctor, then this is most certainly not over. In fact, don't you think this was too easy?"

The Doctor's body nearly shook. He couldn't have missed this, no he couldn't have. His head was spiraling though with all the details he knew about Avalon, the ones he couldn't figure out back then.

Her insomnia?

Time Lords didn't need that much sleep. He went about a week or two without it. Avalon went days without it.

Time Lords had more strength than the average human. Avalon had always displayed her 'freakish' strength in situations. She wasn't in control of it sometimes but she always made a good show of it.

Time Lords' brains were far different than other species.

"I see things differently, I think differently, my brain is just...wired differently. And nobody seems to be able to catch up." Avalon had told him on the first day she came into the TARDIS that she felt like she was ahead of everyone else, and he didn't see it.

The wire. The wire in her brain that was connected differently, that set her apart from everyone else. Why could she remember things that nobody else could? Amy and Lena forgot about the Daleks and the 27 stolen planets, but Avalon didn't. It was in the back of her mind. Amy forgot about Rory after he was erased from existence, but Avalon was aware that she'd forgotten things.

"Big brother?" Lena cautiously touched his arm. He'd gone off in silence and little by little, the expression on his face changed. "What do you think?"

For a few seconds, everyone waited for him to answer.

She's outside of the TARDIS. His eyes zoomed to the door. 'In fact, don't you think this was too easy?' She was outside. And it was too easy.

"AVALON!" He erupted into terrified screams. He bolted out of the door and ran as fast as he could. "AVALON! AVALON!"