#there is technologically minimal difference at that point from watching her on a screen at home and if anything you'd have better views | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

songbirdstyles · 4 years ago

Text

hangin’ on the telephone

summary: you decide to tease harry on a zoom for his class. he’s less than thrilled.

warnings: smut (18+), masturbation, phone/facetime sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism, some fluff?

word count: 5k

song inspo.: hanging on the telephone - blondie; sometimes on a fantasy - billy joel; love on the telephone - foreigner

author’s note: this doesn’t quite fit with the events of when i’m sixty-four and lola - this is if reader was in harry’s class during quarantine. don’t think about it too hard

Harry’s camera is shaky when the class first begins - his screen seems to quiver in itself as he adjusts it, large hand nearly completely blocking him from view before he adjusts himself properly. His camera quality is higher than yours and anyone else’s in the class, for that matter - courtesy of the expensive computers the university had provided to all of its teachers so they wouldn’t complain about how many Zooms they had to have.

That’s what his theory is, anyway. The university says they think its of utmost importance that all of our staff are treated to the highest levels of technology available - but the Macbooks they gave out were from 2015. Certainly not the highest levels.

In every other one of your classes, teachers hold their class as the only colorful block amongst a sea of turned off cameras, white letters reflecting the name of the student to make up for the lack of facial recognition. In Harry’s class, though, there are at least two pages of turned on cameras, and you don’t pretend to not know why. Surely everyone in this class - girls and guys alike - holds some similar fantasy that your professor will somehow fall in love with them through their grainy video on Zoom -

Well, unbeknownst to them, you’re the only one that gets to live that fantasy. In fact, it’s hardly a minute after the Zoom has begun that Harry murmurs jus’ wait a minute f’everyone t’get here - and the apex of your thighs is already heating up.

It’s been so long. Nearly three months since you’d last seen him in person - since you’d last felt his palms pressed to your cheeks, his hips tight against yours, his lips trailing a path up and down the soft column of your throat. And your relationship had never been entirely about sex but it’s a large part of it, feeling each other, and even if you’ve been calling each other for hours nearly every single night, it isn’t enough. You miss him so much it twists at your heart, most days, though it does, admittedly, feel nice to see him in class Zooms.

He’s donning a pink button up, the top button mercifully undone, curls messy and unstyled, and every so often he brings his hand up to run his fingers through it. You’re sure if you could see his full body you’d be able to see the blue checkered pajama pants he wears during all of your lazy days together - he’d never liked wearing dress pants when he didn’t have to. He’s in his bedroom, sitting at his desk, and you can recognize the curtains behind him from the many days (and nights) you’d spent in that exact room together before the entire world had went to shit, and now you miss those stupid curtains so much you can practically taste the desire on your tongue.

You shift in your seat, desire burning in between your legs. You’re not sure if the quirk in Harry’s eyebrow is due to recognition of the simple movement - he’d teased you enough times to recognize every single one of your mannerisms, even ones you didn’t know existed - or if he’s simply acknowledging that all of his students have finally entered the Zoom, but the movement still brings a small smile to your lips.

“Alrigh’, then - looks like we’re all here, now. May as well get started, hmm?” Harry begins, voice booming over everyone’s muted cameras, and the girls on your screen look like they’re practically swooning at the raspiness in his voice. You would judge them if you were a different type of person, but, God, his voice would bring an angel to her knees. You’re sure you look just as needy for him as they do. “Gave y’some questions from last class, right?” The class collectively nods. “Pull those out, then. We can go over them an’ have some discussions an’ analysis, all tha’ - easy class f’today.”

You minimize your Zoom screen and tap into your Google Docs, searching through your most recent documents until you find the questions he’d pushed out to all of you last class - you click on it and watch as your answers fill your screen before looking back to the Zoom, nibbling on your lower lip as you glance at Harry’s screen again.

He’s so composed in the most casual way possible - you can’t possibly know how he manages it. He looks almost like another student, leaning forward to rest his chin against his palm as he waits for everyone to get to their questions, and your breath hitches in your throat as you stare at him, suddenly feeling entirely too hot in your hoodie (his hoodie, actually) as your skin heats.

Simple fix. You grab the bottom of your hoodie and tug it off in one smooth motion, littering it on the side of your desk with a nonchalance that came naturally to you - the cool air of your parent’s basement does little to relieve the heat you feel, the burn seeming to come from the inside out, but you still relish in the coolness that washes over you like a wave. You’re simply wearing a tank top, the straps spaghetti thin and light blue, and you lean back in your seat with a soft sigh.

Harry coughs. It draws numerous eyes back to the screen at the sudden noise, and you furrow your eyebrows as you glance over towards him -

Realistically, there’s no way to know if he’s looking at you. You know that. And yet, somehow you know that he’s staring at you, his eyes darkening in a way that would be unnoticeable to anybody else but you know him. You know how he gets when he’s horny - like when you bent over in front of him to pick up your pencil, knowing it would make his pants feel just a bit tighter, and when you turned back to look at him you could fucking see the green hue of his eyes deepening in shade.

You hadn’t even meant to make him horny by taking off your hoodie, and that’s the truth. Maybe you’re both a bit touch starved from your months apart - but, no matter. You like watching him get like this, examining the way he shifts in his seat like you had moments before, and a smirk tinges your lips as you discreetly reach for the bottom of your tank top, tugging it down just a little bit further down your chest until your cleavage and the top of your bra peeks through. Then you lean forward, narrowing your eyes as though you’re searching through your computer for the questions, and you swear you can hear Harry’s breath catch.

He clears his throat, then. It’s a casual noise and it brings everyone’s attention back to him. “Let’s start wit’ number one - anyone want t’share their answer? Jus’ need a starting point f’our discussion - Sophie, good girl, go ahead.”

Sophie unmutes herself and begins reading her answer for the first question on your sheet, her voice just a bit higher than it usually is and you don’t pretend not to know why - but you’re not focused on it. Harry is smirking, lips tilted slightly upward as he nods along to Sophie’s answer even if you can tell he isn’t listening, and your heartbeat thumps harder against your chest.

Good girl? That bastard - and you can tell Sophie’s eating it up, too, skin flushed in a deep pink, and you narrow your eyes at Harry, already reaching for your phone to text him and tell him off - he knows how much you’d hate to hear anyone else being called good girl because that’s for you, dammit - but before you can, a small box pops up in the corner of your screen.

You lean in, squinting to read the small, granulated chat box -

Professor Styles: What’s got you looking so sour all of a sudden?

You roll your eyes. Cheeky asshole. He knows exactly what’s got you all sour, as Sophie’s voice drones on and on, further explaining her answer that hasn’t made too much sense to you, truly, and your fingers fly across your keyboard to furiously type your response.

You: you’re such a dick

His lips turn up into a larger smile, but before you can reach in to type a different response, Sophie has finished her answer and he nods. “Good answer, Sophie - what d’you guys think? Jacob, tha’s good.”

And Jacob begins to speak - his so called addition is just a poorly worded restatement of exactly what Sophie had said - and then you get another notification from your private chat with your professor. You click on the box and your stomach flips -

Professor Styles: Serves you right, practically flashing your tits to everyone in the class.

Professor Styles: If you were here, I’d put you over my knee.

You could moan at that. Holy shit, you really could. You cough into your first as someone else unmutes themselves to add onto Jacob, and you take just a moment to think of your response before you gnaw on your lower lip, fingers loud as you formulate your reply.

You: you would never. way too vanilla for that

It’s a damn lie and you know it. He’s fucking obsessed with spanking you, even if he’d never truly put you over his knee like a punishment but you know he wouldn’t hesitate if you showed the slightest bit of interest in the act - and you most certainly are interested.

But you like pissing him off. Like watching the way a vein jumps in his neck as he nods along to what somebody with their camera off is jabbering about and when they’re finished, his voice sounds just a bit deeper when he says, “Good, good. How ‘bout number two - Elizabeth?”

You tug your tank top down a bit further, smiling sweetly into the camera and to anyone else it may just look like you’re wholeheartedly agreeing with whatever your classmate is saying but you watch Harry’s eyes scan his screen before they surely land on you, and they widen slightly.

Another message pops up in record time - and you’d expected it - but it doesn’t make you any less desperate to lean in and read it.

Professor Styles: Or maybe I’d force you to kneel on the ground with my cock in your mouth for hours.

You: i think you know i’d love that

Professor Styles: Can’t move, can’t touch yourself, can’t do anything.

You swallow thickly, feeling your face heat up desperately. Your cunt is fucking dripping, now, surely desperate for your touch and every time you shift in your seat your clit rubs against the lace of your panties, sending jolts of pleasure rolling through your body as shaky fingers type a response.

You: you wouldn’t be able to last

Professor Styles: I’d last all day just to make you stay there.

Well - you have no shame in resting your hand on your lower stomach, just out of view of your camera. Eyes on Harry’s little box on your screen your fingertips slight down into your sweatpants, digits running over the moist fabric of your thong before pressing to your clit, and a wave of pleasure rolls through your body at the initial touch until you’re practically preening into your grasp, still caressing your cunt over your panties.

The class moves on to the next question - you’ve stopped paying attention ages ago, since the words good girl first slipped out of Harry’s mouth and he messaged you for the first time. You hook a finger into the crotch part of your panties, tugging them to the side and you can feel your wetness, strings connecting your dripping folds to the lace, and your breath picks up as you slip your hand into your panties.

The message comes fast. You’d been expecting it, pressing it open with the hand not shoved into your pants.

Professor Styles: You’re fucking touching yourself, aren’t you

It’s not a question. He can read you like a book - knows every one of your reactions because he was the only one who could pull them from you - and the way you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth, glancing into the camera with an air of faux-innocence, is something he’s come to recognize.

You type your response slowly. Take your time, don’t rush, because you love to make him wait as your fingers slowly move in circles against your clit - too gentle to truly make you feel anything, touch feather soft as you spread moisture around the sensitive nub.

You: of course i am, professor. if you’re not here to do it for me…

You lean back in your office chair - to anyone else you look nonchalant and casual, if a bit bored of the proceedings in class - and your hand slides further into your panties, fingers smoothing up and down your folds until your breathing picks up, chest rising and falling as you finally push your pointer finger into yourself, immediately curling it upwards to brush against the sweet spot inside of your velvety walls that has you pushing your hips against your hands. You’re quivering for your own touch - for Harry’s, more so - as you push your own essence in and out of your cunt, heel of your palm brushing against your clit, before you glance back up at the screen.

And Harry is - God, he’s a sight, is what he is. He’s leaning back in his seat, like you, and you watch for a moment at the way his chest rises and falls against the fabric of his billowy dress shirt. The top button is still undone and as you watch, he reaches up and undoes the second one -

It’s like a collective moan rolls through the fucking class at the action. You can see every girl’s eyes widen on your screen as the overhead lights in Harry’s apartment illuminates the thin shine of sweat on his chest, and if you didn’t know better you’d simply assume that the AC in his apartment must be broken because he merely looks hot as he nods along to the current speaker - but you do know better.

If the camera was angled just a millimeter down, you’re sure you’d see the bulge through his pajama pants, thick and hard and desperate for your attention. For your mouth or your hands or your cunt, squeezing him so good, milking him for everything he’s worth until you’re both sobbing -

You add another finger into your pussy, sliding them in and out with a slow pace that gradually picks up until your ears are filled with the sound of your wetness, sloshing in your panties as you suck your teeth, trying to prevent your mouth from opening in a moan. You may look inconspicuous now but if your lips part in a desperate cry you know people will get suspicious -

Caught in your own pleasure, you’d missed Harry’s messages until the third one pops on your screen, and you scramble to click on the notification before it disappears.

Professor Styles: You’re a brat

Professor Styles: Trying to work me up like this

Professor Styles: Don’t you dare stop touching yourself.

The third one has your eyebrows furrowing - God, of course you’d never stop. You don’t think you could even physically drag your hands away from the pearl between your thighs until you’ve finally come over the edge and you didn’t need Harry to say it. You raise your eyebrows and begin typing your response with your free hand, fingers pumping in and out of your cunt desperately, but you’ve barely finished the text when you hear your name in his fucking voice and -

“What d’you think?” Harry inquires, voice even lower than it had been before, and you resist the urge to drop your mouth open in an appalled gasp as he practically stares into your fucking soul even through Zoom. Your heart drops into your ass and now you know why he’d wanted to confirm that you wouldn’t stop - “Why d’you think Steinbeck structured the book like he did?”

What? You don’t fucking know - you click to unmute yourself, fingers slowing down as you take a breath, tapping until you get to the answer written on your Google Doc. “Um - they’re plot chapters followed by intercalary chapters - they invoke an emotional response from readers.”

It’s a textbook answer, short and shitty and anyone with half a brain could tell that you simply said it so you would get the participation points, and you watch Harry’s eyebrows raised with a poorly-concealed smile.

“How d’they invoke an emotional response, though?”

And he’s such a tease - he loves this, watching you teeter near the edge of your orgasm with shaky breaths as you seemingly contemplate your answer for a moment - fingers circle your clit slowly as you say, “They - they show us the historical and societal background - which - which broadens the scope of the novel.”

You, truthfully, think you did a fairly decent job keeping your composure - sure, your voice was a bit airy, a bit breathy, and you’re sure you tripped a bit over your words, but you at least didn’t moan out wildly in front of your entire class - celebrate the little things. And, yeah, it may not have been the best answer, but Jacob is already unmuting himself to elaborate and restate your entire answer, which feels like a win in your book, at least.

Professor Styles: Good girl. Kept your cool.

You’re practically trembling, resuming your thrusting of your fingers deep within your cunt, as you shakily type your response, fingers quivering on the keyboard.

You: wish you were here

And - when you realize that sounds a bit too sentimental to fit the situation at hand, fingering yourself in front of the entire class - you hurry to type something else.

You: to eat me out

You bring your eyes up to the screen again, fast enough to watch the quick smile spread across his face - his eyes dart around the screen for a moment before landing on a spot that you assume to be your box, and you exhale softly, curling your finger upward to that spot that has your back arching forward, tits pushing closer to the camera before you drop back against your seat.

Professor Styles: I’d do anything to have my face in your cunt right now.

You inhale sharply, nearly coughing as you pick up your speed, lips parting the slightest bit in a soft whine that erupts from your throat before you can try to fight it back - your eyes shut, head falling back against your chair, and you’re so close you can feel your impending release on the tip of your tongue like your favorite meal.

It’s the sound of the chat notification on Zoom that makes your eyes open, and you click on it. It’s hard to read, vision going fuzzy as your orgasm comes closer and closer, but you can make it out -

Professor Styles: Eyes open.

Professor Styles: And keep your camera on when you cum.

You practically whimper at the request but you oblige - eyes opened and staring directly at his box, at the way his face is practically bright red, sitting up straighter in his seat. He’s moved his camera angle up more, concealing his abdomen until only his chest and head is visible, showcasing the two undone buttons at the top of his pink shirt.

He sure doesn’t look composed now. Not a total disaster - but not the cool, calm professor who had first opened Zoom nearly 45 minutes ago.

Your eyes are moving towards the camera when you notice something in his box that has your eyebrows raising, eyes wide and alert as you squint, fingers briefly paused in their mission to get you to orgasm -

Your free hand flies across the keyboard as you type the message, mind spinning with the image you’d seen - the way his fabric creased near his shoulder, like his arm had been moving up and down with an unbridled, jerky pace -

You: are you jerking off, professor?

And you can see the exact moment he reads the message, his eyes widening, before he unmutes himself and loudly proclaims, “Question 4, then? W - Who wants t’start us off? Jamie, good, tell us wha’ you’ve got.”

And Jamie goes off in some tangent about their answer, words sounding like mud in your brain, as Harry mutes himself once more, and it’s only another moment until you get the next message.

Professor Styles: How could you expect me not to?

Good answer. You know that if you’d caught him jerking off before you had the chance to stick your hands down your panties, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself - but it’s still surprising, watching the fabric of his shirt rustle. It’s not obvious in a way anyone else could tell but you can, and that’s all that matters.

You pull your fingers out of your cunt, bringing your sodden fingers up to your clit. You’resoclosesoclosesoclose - your trembling fingers rub hard circles into your clit, pussy fluttering around the emptiness after you’ve pulled your fingers out, and you clench your muscles taut as you pinch the sensitive nub -

Fuck. There it is - a burning sensation throughout your body as flames lick up your body, rocking through every inch of your skin - it’s all you can do to sit there, legs spread, practically biting back the urge to sob out with the force of it all, and keeping a poker face feels like some sort of torture form. Your cunt jolts beneath your fingers as you try and ride yourself through it, sticky wetness coating your fingers with proof of your release until it’s all over your sweatpants, soaking the gray fabric darker.

Harry’s the only person who’s ever made you squirt - twice, it happened, once into his mouth and the other around his cock as he overstimulated you until you were practically sobbing. And he’d loved it, too, pulling out even though he hadn’t cum yet and sinking to his knees to lap the moisture from between your thighs, eyes rolling back into his head as though it brought him such pleasure to sit there and eat you while you grabbed at his hair.

You’ve never done it yourself. Not with just your fingers.

The next message comes before the aftershocks have finished rolling through your body, and you need to take a few seconds to compose yourself before reaching to read it.

Professor Styles: I love watching you cum.

You resist the urge to smile, resting your palm against your swollen cunt as you use the other hand to type your response.

You: squirted all over my hand.. wish you could’ve seen it

You can practically hear the way he chokes when he reads it, even through his muted mic, and your response comes in seconds.

Professor Styles: I’m wrapping up the class early. Stay after.

It’s a demand and one that you’re more than willing to oblige, giving one unceremonious jerk of your head upwards as you lean back into your seat. And, true to his word, he unmutes himself, declaring loudly that since he wanted an easy day you could all leave early - not too early, mind you, a mere seven minutes before the class would officially be over - but he could let the class out twenty seconds early and they’d act like he canceled an exam.

People unmute themselves to say goodbye before boxes quickly begin disappearing, the number of participants dropping down until it’s just the two of you, squares side by side next to each other, and you reach to unmute yourself the second the last person has left.

“Harry - Harry, fuck,” you breathe, pushing your computer back and angling it down more so he can see your body. He unmutes himself and you can hear his gasped breathing as he pushes his own laptop back until you can see him fully and - “Fuck.”

His pajama pants are pushed past his cock, curling towards his stomach and an angry shade of red. His fist wraps tight around it, pumping himself up and down with his chest rising and falling desperately, and the thought of him doing this during your Zoom call has another pang of pleasure rolling through your body from your clit.

“Unbutton your shirt,” you beg him, propping your foot on your desk as you shimmy your sweatpants down your thighs, kicking them off into a pile on the floor. Your cunt is exposed to him, covered only by a sopping scrap of lace that you call underwear, and you’re quick to pull it away from your pussy to show him as you dip your fingers back down to your clit, circling it freely. You’re still entirely too sensitive, and the simple motion has your chest arching vehemently, but you can’t watch him do this without feeling the overwhelming urge to cum again and again -

He obliges, practically tearing the shirt away from his chest until the two halves have split open and you get an eyeful of his chest, littered in tattoos that only you get the pleasure of seeing - the butterfly you love to press your palms against when you ride his face - the ship you always grasp when you’re rolling against his thigh -

“Finger y’self,” Harry grunts, breathing desperate and heavy as you lean back in your seat, exposing yourself further to him, your chest heaving. “An’ take off tha’ tank top.”

You grab the end of the shirt, tugging it up and over your head and littering it on the side of your office chair, pulling the straps of your bra down your arms so you can peel the cups away from your tits, displaying your peaked nipples to him, and he moans at the sight, the noise low and guttural. You slide two fingers into your cunt easily, the dripping essence of your release still lubricating your digits to push in and out of yourself.

It isn’t going to take long for either of you - you can tell. He plants his free palm on the edge of his desk, leaning forward and baring his chest to you, and you push yourself to sit up more, resting your free hand on your tits. Fingers pinch at your nipple, the peaked bud sending rays of euphoria through your body, and you drop your head back with a desperate whine.

“Y’close?” Harry asks through gritted teeth, words interrupted with needy breaths and gasps as you nod, and you can tell that anything he’d said about punishing you is gone - he won’t stop you now, not when you’re so close, not when all either of you want is to touch each other. You want to reach through the camera, to press your lips to his, feel his palms smooth up and down your back before traveling downwards until he can slide his fingers into your cunt - one of his is bigger than both of yours, and he’d fill you up so good you wouldn’t be able to do anything else but cry out.

And you - you’d rest your knees on either side of his thighs, lowering yourself into his lap as his length slides against your stomach. Scraping your nails through his hair always makes him cry out and your fingers tense around your breasts as you imagine it, thinking of the way he’d moan and beg for you to pull it harder, lowering his lips to your nipple as you obey him.

You’ll always obey him. (In bed, at least.) God, you really would sit on your knees for hours, holding his cock in your mouth like it’s your fucking job, and you’d love it, too.

“Look at me, baby,” Harry moans, voice crackling through the speaker of your shitty computer and you oblige, hazy eyes rolling upwards to the camera, and you swallow thickly, pumping your fingers faster in and out of your cunt. “Look at me when y’cum … c’mon, baby.”

You don’t need much more encouragement than that. With one curl of your fingers upwards to hit the sweet spot deep within your velvet core you cum, eyes rolling back into your head with a piercing cry that makes you entirely too grateful that it’s your parents’ date night - your cunt clenches and unclenches around your fingers as you finally hit your peak, breath coming out in needy groans as you release over your fingers.

You’ve barely finished when Harry’s tell-tale groan sounds through the basement and you snap your eyes back to his figure, glancing at him just in time to see him cum, white ribbons spurting out of his cock and coating his hand and the sleeve of his pink dress shirt. He drops his head forward with a grunt, fist still jerking up and down his dick as though he’s trying to milk every last drop all over his abdomen, and your breathing turns more jagged as you watch like he’s a fucking piece of art and you’re nothing but a spectactor.

And then - for a moment - there’s silence. Not silence, in its literal definition, as desperate, heaving breaths pierce the air even screens apart, and you’re not sure which of you will be the first to speak. You can hardly breathe right, let alone say any coherent sentence, and Harry takes the lead.

“Did good, baby,” he breathes, voice so soft you can barely hear it, and you nod, wiping your moist hand on your outer thigh. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you tell him, pushing yourself to sit up more. “And your dick.”

He exhales a shaky laugh, raising his hand to examine the cum that coats his palm and fingers as though he’s never seen anything like it. “Yeah - I miss y’pussy. Not used t’not cumming in you.”

“Yeah,” you begin. “Feel empty without -”

You’re cut off before you can finish as Harry raises his fingers to his mouth, pink tongue darting out to lick at the bits of cum that decorate his skin. Your lips part needily as you watch him, eyes wide as saucers until he’s fully lapped up every ribbon of cum, and he smacks his lips as though he’d enjoyed a great meal.

“Don’t get how y’swallow so often,” Harry says, and even through his faux-casual demeanor you can see the corners of his lips turning up at your state. “Really doesn’t taste good -”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“M’horny again.”

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #prof!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles drabble #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic

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primroseprime2019 · 3 years ago

Text

Convoy

"PRIME!" Agent Fowler called out from the screens as Optimus, Jazz and Prowl came into the room.

"Prime!" Fowler called again. "Agent Fowler, to what do we owe-?" The Prime began to ask.

"What else? It's Cons! I chased them off with some hard ordinance! But not before they blew me out of the sky!" Fowler exclaimed in frustration.

"Again?" Miko giggled. "I don't think the Decepticons like him," Paige said. "I heard that!" Fowler exclaimed, "they tried to smash and grab for the DNGS."

"The whatsit?" WhiteRain repeated in confusion. "Dynamic Nuclear Generator System. A.K.A., DNGS," Fowler said. Fowler tapped a button and the video visual shifted from him to a view of a metal crate, held down with several straps and ties.

"It's a prototype energy source I'm transporting to the coast for testing," he said. Ratchet scoffed, "that's absurd. Why would Ember bother themselves with primitive technology?"

"I'm guessing to make a big fat primitive weapon of mass destruction. If this baby were to melt down, it would irradiate this state and the four next door," Fowler said. Raf nervously looked to his friends, "did Agent Fowler say what state he was currently in?"

"I'm a sitting duck here, Prime," Agent Fowler said, "I need you to spin up a bridge and send the DNGS through to its destination before the Cons come back for it."

"I'm afraid that sending such a volatile device through a ground bridge is out of the question. If there were to be an accident during its transmission, the radiation of which you speak could propagate through the ground bridge vortex and harm all 50 states. And beyond," Optimus said warily.

"You got any better ideas?" Fowler asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Paige looked to Optimus, "can I come with you this time?"

"No," Optimus said. Confused, WhiteRain looked to Primrose curiously. "The Decepticons don't know about her being a Galatrian and we'd like to keep it that way," Primrose said firmly. Paige frowned and she walked down the stairs, muttering that she never gets to go anywhere.

“This is for your own safety and you know it,” Ratchet said gently and Paige only grumbled in response.

◊◊◊◊

Optimus, Bulkhead, Primrose, Prowl, Jazz, Firestorm, Nightwalker and WhiteRain were in the forest that Fowler was in. After making sure that the DNGS was locked and loaded in Optimus' trailer, Fowler sat in the driver's seat and he was about to place his hands on the steering wheel until Optimus stopped him. "No need, Agent Fowler. I will handle the driving," he said.

Fowler frowned before he leaned back against the driver's seat, crossing his arms over his chest and muttering, "it's going to be a long trip."

The Autobots started their engines. "Autobots, roll out," Optimus Prime said and with that, the Autobots started driving.

◊◊◊◊

On a long two lane highway, Optimus drove in front of the Autobots. Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Firestorm drove behind the Prime while WhiteRain, Jazz, Prowl, Nightwalker and Primrose drove behind the three mechs.

◊◊◊◊

The console screen showed nine Autobot signals on a map. "We are locked on to you coordinates, Optimus," Ratchet said as he and the kids stood in front of the screen, "barring any complications, you should reach the drop off point by sundown."

◊◊◊◊

An old rusted pickup truck was travelling slowly down the road. Optimus came up behind it and his horn suddenly blared. Fowler was hitting the horn. "Move it, gramps!" He snapped, hitting his fist on the steering wheel.

"Poor Optimus," WhiteRain chuckled and Nightwalker snickered as Prowl and Primrose let out exasperated vents.

The pickup truck moved to the side of the road, allowing Optimus and the Bots to pass. Fowler still pressed on the horn as they went by.

"Agent Fowler, is that really necessary?" Optimus asked. "Ah, don't tell me you're one of them textbook drivers. Hmph," Fowler huffed as he sat back again, his arms crossed over his chest once again.

A light and dark green helicopter flew through the air, it's blades clearly audible. A man started to speak over a radio.

Bumblebee moved ahead of Optimus. The helicopter followed after the Autobots. "Send in the ground units," the man said.

Fowler had relaxed a bit, a hand on the steering wheel and an arm in the open window. "You know, you're saving my bacon here, Prime," he said.

"I am proud to be of service," Optimus replied. "Course, not like I'd need your help if you and the 'cons had stuck to tearing up your own corner of the galaxy," Fowler said with a small chuckle.

"Are you suggesting that no evil existed on your world before we arrived?" Optimus asked. Backtracking a bit, Fowler stammered, "of... well, it was a... different evil. How about some radio? You seem like a Nashville-sound kind of guy." He reached for the radio dial only to see the helicopter in the rearview mirror.

"That's the one! The con who shot me down!" Fowler exclaimed, "who is he? Wingnut? Dingbat? Skyguy?" "Those are stupid names and you know it," Nightwalker huffed.

"I'm guessing!" Fowler huffed back. "Watch your rearviews," Prowl said through the commlink.

Three lime green and black sports cars came up behind the convoy, boxing in Jazz and Bulkhead. "Feeling a little constricted without the use of my fists here, boss," Bulkhead said.

"Remain in vehicular mode unless absolutely necessary," Optimus said firmly. One of the lime green cars cut in front of Bulkhead, right behind the trailer.

"A whole team of Cons," Fowler gasped.

"What? I'm not picking up anything," Ratchet said, "they must be utilizing a cloaking technology."

◊◊◊◊

Two more cars joined the other three that were already boxing in Bulkhead and Jazz. One car passed Optimus and Bumblebee, cutting in front of the convoy. Bumblebee tried to pass them but they move with him to stay in front. Fowler noticed another car trying to pull up on Optimus' driver's side. Once even with the Prime, a sunroof opened on the car and a masked man- a MECH agent- stood up, aiming a gun at them.

"Pull over!" The agent said. "Well I'll be dipped!" Fowler exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock.

◊◊◊◊

"Our assailants are not Decepticons- they are human," Optimus said. "Human?!" Jack, Paige and Raf repeated in shock.

"Oh please. Taking on our bots? They're roadkill!" Miko scoffed.

◊◊◊◊

The man that had spoken into the radio from before, was now smirking. He had close cut blonde hair and several scars. "Gentleman... stop their engines," the man said.

The agent standing in the car prepared to fire and Fowler braced for impact. Optimus pulled to the side, attempting to drive the lime green car off the road. The force caused the MECH agent to shoot the ground and an explosion rocked the trailer as Optimus pulled away.

Fowler looked out at the MECH agents, "who are these guys?"

"Autobots, maintain your cover and apply minimal force," Optimus instructed, "disarmament only."

Another car with an agent on top tried to pull up on Optimus' passenger side but WhiteRain dropped back and rear-ended them. They tried to pull ahead but WhiteRain slammed into their side and sent them skidding and weaving, until they hit some fallen rock and the car flipped, the agent just ducking back into the car in time.

The convoy drove around the side of the mountain with WhiteRain in lead, and the remaining cars being right behind Jazz, Bulkhead and Primrose.

The man looked at a screen that showed the Bots and the MECH cars. "Those are not civilian drivers," he murmured.

◊◊◊◊

The Autobots took the turns of the highway as fast as they dared. Fowler was becoming nauseous from the sudden swinging. "Could use some air," he groaned.

Optimus opened his window for the agent and he stuck his head out before he noticed one of the MECH cars had pulled up alongside the trailer and a MECH agent was climbing on the roof of the car. The MECH agent jumped onto Optimus' trailer hitch and used a laser saw on his gun to try and cut the couplings.

"Prime! Bear right!" Fowler exclaimed and the Prime immediately did so, jostling the MECH agent so he nearly fell off the coupling. As the driver tried to help, he was run off the road by the trailer and over the side of the cliff. The car rolled as it hit the bottom, but the agent managed to crawl out.

The agent on the coupling regained his balance and got to work, but Fowler opened the door and climbed on the side of Optimus and grabbed the agent, making him drop his gun and held him over the road by the back of his coat. "You're gonna tell me everything I want to kno-" Fowler was cut off when a tree branch knocked the MECH agent out of his grip.

Fowler climbed back into Optimus' vehicle form and buckled up just as the radio came on. "I do hope you take better care of the DNGS than you do your captives," the man from before spoke.

Fowler looked up at the helicopter and realized that the caller was up there.

"Special Agent William Fowler here. Identify yourself," Fowler snapped. "I am Silas. But of greater consequence to you, we are MECH," the man said, "fair warning- we will be helping ourselves to your device, even if it means inflicting casualties."

"Is that so?" Fowler asked, his eyes narrowing, "tell me, Si, what's the market price for a DNGS these days?"

"What makes you think we intend to sell it, Agent Fowler?" Silas asked. The Autobots kept driving as one of the MECH cars pulled up on Optimus' bumper and Silas' helicopter kept the pace.

"There's a war brewing between the new world order and the newest," Silas said, "the victor will be the side armed with the most innovative technology."

Fowler noticed an agent standing in the sunroof of the car right behind Optimus. The MECH agent shot the door of the trailer with explosive charges, which he detonated with a button on his gun. They blow open the latches holding the door shut, causing it to open. The agent started climbing out of the car to jump onto the trailer. Fowler looked into the side mirror, "so, Si... you think MECH has all the most radical tech?"

The agent made it to the hood of the MECH car, but before they could try to get into the trailer, Arcee jumped out in vehicle form, landing on the hood and knocking the car back while the agent went flying with a scream. The car tipped as Arcee turned around, and a second MECH car ended up flipping over the crashed one, hitting the ground and exploding.

Silas' helicopter avoided the fumes of the smoke as the pilot stared down at the highway. "Definitely not civilian drivers," he remarked.

◊◊◊◊

"Later, Si," Fowler said with a smirk as he hung up the radio. "Agent Fowler, do not take your "Silas" lightly," Optimus warned, "Megatron preached the very same ideology before plunging Cybertron into the Great War that destroyed our world."

"Optimus, prepare to initiate phase 2," Ratchet said through the commlink, "five miles ahead, to the south, you will reach the rendezvous point."

◊◊◊◊

On the Nemesis, Soundwave replayed Ratchet's last message on his screen. "So the Autobots are outside the confines of their base," Ember mused, "and they seem otherwise engaged; which means they will never see us coming." She turned to a group of Eradicons, "find them and scrap them."

"Yes, Mistress Ember," the group said and Ember smirked.

◊◊◊◊

The Autobots continued down the highway, which now ran alongside two sets of train tracks, with a train coming alongside them.

"There's our destination point," Fowler said. "Autobots, keep a tight formation," Optimus said. With that said, the Autobots jumped off the highway and onto the open train tracks, the MECH vehicles following. But as the Autobots entered the tunnel, Nightwalker transformed into his bipedal form and blew up the entrance so the MECH cars could not follow.

The Autobot warrior transformed back into his vehicle mode and caught up with the team. The Autobots drove alongside the train with Arcee sitting in the trailer, and Bumblebee transformed into his bipedal form before he flipped onto the roof of one of the train's boxcars, and he tapped on the door.

◊◊◊◊

Silas watched the tunnel, "tactical error. Only one way out."

Not long after the train emerged from the tunnel, so did the Autobots. They continued to drive along the train for a few meters before eventually driving up the small hill and finding themselves back on the road.

Silas' smirk grew bigger only for it to fade away in surprise when he saw black and purple jets fly past him.

"Air support? Ours or theirs?"Fowler asked Optimus.

◊◊◊◊

"Optimus, you have company," Ratchet said.

"Decepticons?" Primrose asked.

"Who else?" Ratchet huffed.

◊◊◊◊

One of the Decepticon jets fired missiles at the Autobots. Silas watched with shock and amazement. "Military fired on one of their own?" He murmured.

The Autobots swerved to avoid the attack, which caused the trailer to detach from Optimus.

"Sir, the DNGS!" The MECH pilot exclaimed in alarm. The Autobots drove away as the missiles hit the trailer and it blew up.

"Sir, I'm not reading any radiation," the MECH pilot said, "the DNGS didn't melt down."

"No... it did not," Silas said.

◊◊◊◊

The Autobots managed to lead the Decepticons towards a clearing in the local forest. The Autobots skidded to a stop near a cliff and the Decepticons transformed into their bipedal forms and landed in a line before them.

"Agent Fowler, I'm afraid that if you and we are to survive, it has become absolutely necessary to drop our cover," Optimus said before he transformed around Fowler and the liaison was in his servo. The other Autobots transformed as well.

"So the rumors are true. Living technology stands before us- though perhaps not very long," Silas said with a grin as the helicopter circled around in the air.

Optimus placed Fowler on top of a boulder, "remain here." "Will do," Fowler said.

"After a long road trip, it feels good to get out of the car, stretch my legs," Bulkhead smashed his fists together, "and kick some tailpipe!"

With that, he and the other Autobots charged at the Eradicons and Silas watched from the helicopter.

The MECH pilot looked at him, "sir, if the DNGS wasn't in the truck..." "Yes, that," Silas said and he pressed a button, "Special Agent Fowler, "you lead a charmed life, walking among titans."

Fowler picked up the radio, "come on down. I'll introduce you." "All in good time. But at the moment, I'mvtoo busy wondering how the DNGS might have vanished into thin air without a trace."

Fowler narrowed his eyes.

The Autobots were inside the tunnel, driving next to the train. Bumblebee transformed into his bipedal form and jumped on top of the boxcar and knocked on the door. A military soldier opened the door and blinked in surprise as Bumblebee waved at him.

The trailer walls disappeared around Arcee and the DNGS. Arcee lifted the DNGS into her arms with ease and she passed it off to Bulkhead who was laying on top of the train along with Bumblebee who placed it inside the boxcar.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a train to catch," Silas said. Fowler glared at the radio before he looked up to see Silas' helicopter flying off before Fowler spoke into the radio again.

"Prime! Silas got wise of phase 2!" He exclaimed. Optimus punched a Eradicon aside and paused in the fighting, "I understand."

Suddenly, another Eradicon had grabbed a tree and hit Optimus hard in the face. The Prime fell down the side of the cliff and landed hard on his front. He tried to get up but seemingly passed out.

"Prime, do you read me? Prime!?” Fowler exclaimed in concern, earning no answer.

Primrose charged at the Eradicon who had the tree trunk and she rammed into him, the force of her attack sending the Decepticon flying back. Nightwalker got out his shield before he whirled around and tossed it. It flew into another Eradicon, slicing it in two.

Jazz ran forward and he punched a third Eradicon with WhiteRain leaping over his helm and she punched a fourth. She took out her whip and once it tangled up around a fifth Eradicon, she yanked back hard, whirling around and sending the Eradicon flying across the air and slamming into the ground.

◊◊◊◊

"Optimus is down!" Miko exclaimed. "MECH's gonna grab the DNGS! We need to think of something quick," Jack said, alarmed.

"You mean like a phase 3?" Raf asked. "Well if MECH wants the DNGS, they need to get on the train," Paige said.

"What if we get on first? Y'know, run some human-on-human interference?" Miko asked eagerly.

"Absolutely not!" Ratchet said firmly. "Yeah, that would be suicide," Paige said nervously. Miko placed her hands on her hips as she gave her friend a look, "hello, the United States of meltdown! Lives are at stake!"

"Yes- yours!" Ratchet exclaimed, "you want me to bridge you not only into a confined space, but one travelling at 90 miles per hour?! I can't even count the number of ways that can go wrong: mass displacement trauma, twisted limbs, metal burn-" "Ay! We're made of flesh and bones, dear!" Paige exclaimed, "not metal!"

"Well... maybe not the last one," Ratchet muttered, "regardless, it is nearly impossible to fix ground bridge coordinates on something moving at that speed."

"Would it help if we had access to the train's coordinates?" Raf asked as he typed some commands into his laptop to bring up the train's coordinates.

"Well... alright," Ratchet said. Jack attached something to his cell phone before following Miko and Paige through the ground bridge. The three jumped through and landed on the train, mainly on their butts.

Getting up, Paige widened her eyes when she saw the unconscious soldier on the ground. Jack looked around nervously before he put his phone up to his ear, "we're in."

"I read you, Jack. The cellphone commlink patch works!" Raf said. The three managed to open the carriage door and saw Silas' helicopter preparing to land on top of the train.

"Raf, MECH's landing on top of the train," Paige spoke into Jack's phone, "please tell me you have a way to stop them."

◊◊◊◊

"In about 20 seconds, you're gonna come to a fork," Raf said as he typed in various commands, "brace yourselves."

The helicopter was hovering even lower, slowly coming even closer to the top of the train as they approached the fork. After finishing typing in his commands, Raf managed to change the tracks. And instead of going one way, the train went another way. It successfully knocked the helicopter off of the train top. The pilot managed to regain control of the helicopter.

"What happened?" Silas demanded. "Hacker," the pilot said before he pressed a button, "former hacker."

◊◊◊◊

The train monitor was once occupying the big screen and Raf's laptop. Suddenly, it was replaced with a moving picture of cross bones and a bomb with a lit fuse. Before Raf could even wonder what was going on, the internal bomb went off and fried his laptop, causing it to literally smoke. Raf had to shield his face from some of the sparks that jumped out.

"And what have I been saying all along about earth technology?" Ratchet asked, rolling his optics. "Ratchet, be nice," Paige said.

"Yes Paigey," the medic said with a small smirk.

◊◊◊◊

Jack, Paige and Miko heard the familiar clang of a helicopter landing on top of the train carriage. They looked up at the ceiling and saw a cackling, sparking laser cutting a hole in the roof to give MECH access to the inside of the carriage as well as the objects and people currently occupying it.

"So what would that buy us?" Jack asked Paige nervously.

"Ten seconds?" Paige guessed nervously with a shrug.

"Raf is losing his touch," Miko remarked.

◊◊◊◊

Primrose punched an Eradicon. Optimus slowly regained consciousness. He looked down the mountain into the canyon and saw the train with the helicopter on top driving away.

◊◊◊◊

"They're not taking this thing," Paige said before she grabbed the gun and cocked it. She wasn't surprised that it was still loaded. Jack and Miko stared at her in shock. Paige looked at them deadpanned, "I know how to handle a gun; I did it in the country with my dad's side of the family."

Miko spotted a fireman's axe on the wall and grabbed it. Jack grabbed a fire extinguisher. MECH finished cutting the hole and the panel dropped into the car. Three MECH agents looked into the car.

"You want a slice of this? Well do ya!?" Miko demanded. "What she said," Jack said. Paige aimed the gun at the MECH agents and fired purposefully at the side of the hole, making the MECH agents nearly jump back.

"That was a warning shot, gentlemen," Paige said, "next time, I won't miss."

The MECH agents exchanged glances before they quickly disappeared from view.

"Sir!" The pilot said to Silas and he saw Optimus running along a cliff ledge. The Prime transformed into his vehicle form and took off.

Silas narrowed his eyes, "retreat." With that, the other three MECH agents climbed into the helicopter and the helicopter took off.

Jack, Miko and Paige poked their heads out, seeing the helicopter fly away. "You're pretty fierce," Miko commented.

"First rule of combat: never leave the enemy with the spoils," Silas remarked as he loaded his own weapon.

He stuck his head and torso out of the helicopter and aimed his gun at the train tracks in the distance. He fired a single missle at the train tracks. Jack, Paige and Miko watched helplessly as the missle whizzed past them and the train in general. Then the missle made contact with the tracks. That area of the tracks was destroyed in a large column of smoke, rock, dirt and metal debris.

"Whoa!" Jack yelled.

"Ratchet, MECH has blown the train tracks. You need to bridge us out of here! The soldier too!" Paige spoke into the phone desperately.

◊◊◊◊

"We've lost access to the train data," Ratchet said urgently, "I can't bridge you back without your coordinates."

◊◊◊◊

Jack, Miko and Paige exchanged nervous glances. Paige looked back outside and bit her lip.

Optimus drove as fast as he could after the train.

"Optimus, Jack, Miko and Paige are on that train and MECH's blown the train tracks," Ratchet said urgently in the commlink.

"I'm on my way," Optimus said, "maximum overdrive!" With that, he kicked it into high gear and drove up alongside the train.

"M-maybe we should jump?" Paige asked.

"At 90 miles per hour?" Jack asked in disbelief. "It's the impact or the meltdown, take your pick," Miko huffed.

Jack groaned, "what were we thinking, volunteering for this?" "Next time you need to do a better job of talking us out of these situations," Miko said.

“Next time,” Jack sighed.

“You think we could buy a few extra seconds in the back of the train?" Miko asked.

"Guys, at least we're in this together," Paige reminded them before Miko snatched the phone.

"Raf! This is important! Make sure Bulkhead gets my guitar!" Miko requested. Paige heard a noise before she poked her head out.

"I wouldn't exactly read the will just yet," she said. Jack and Miko poked their heads out and saw Optimus.

They watched as Optimus transformed into his bipedal mode and skidded alongside the train, grasping it as he tried to slow it to a stop. Sparks flew from the friction between the train wheels and the track. Jack, Paige and Miko clung to the sides of the open door as the force of the train threatened to knock them down. Eventually, the train stopped not far from the edge of the blown track.

Optimus walked towards the carriage with the DNGS, Jack, Paige and Miko in it. Jack, Paige and Miko raised their left arms up, signifying they were okay.

"Optimus, are you and the children intact?" Ratchet asked through the commlink.

"Intact, Ratchet. Crisis averted. But the world we live in is a different one than previously imagined. One that has spawned its own Decepticons in human skin," Optimus decreed.

"Never again will I ride a train like this," Paige said, "especially if it's in Chicago."

"What matters is that we're all okay," Miko huffed. "Can't argue with that," Jack chuckled. Paige walked over to the soldier and she gently woke him up, shaking him a bit.

He mumbled softly and she transformed into her wolf form before huffing in his face. He yelped as he jumped awake and looked at her and the others.

"You alright?" Paige asked. The soldier gave a nervous nod.

Optimus turned to the other Autobots and Agent Fowler as they hurried over. Then something else caught the Prime's optic. There was a figure standing in the trees.

He wore red and gold armor and he was gazing at them. He must have noticed that Optimus was staring at him so he stepped back into the shadows.

Optimus narrowed his optics before he followed the others into the ground bridge.

When they came into the base, Raf hugged Paige. "What, no hug for us?" Miko asked playfully.

"Nope," Raf said with a smirk and Jack gave a dramatic gasp before the four laughed. Paige smiled at Ratchet and she walked over to him.

He knelt down and she wrapped her arms around his digit. "I love you Ratchet," she said with a smile.

Upon hearing that, everyone turned to them. Ratchet smiled softly, "I love you too, Paige."

Primrose watched the two before she walked down into the hallway. "Hey Ratchet won't be as grumpy anymore!" Bumblebee exclaimed and everyone laughed and chuckled.

Ratchet huffed but he smiled nonetheless. Paige giggled and she nuzzled the medic- her medic's digit happily. And a part of her felt complete.

#transformers prime #fanfiction #my ocs #self insert #the girl among the gods

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chicagoindiecritics · 4 years ago

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New Written Review from Mike Crowley on You’ll Probably Agree: 10 Reasons Why ‘Blade Runner 2049’ is better than ‘Blade Runner’

If you haven’t’ seen the movie, see it then read this. No intro, let’s jump right in.

1. K is a replicant

The reveal of K’s genetic code, or lack thereof, flips everything we assume the movie will be on its head. We are learning along with K what it means to exist. Do we as humans, live like replicants? Do we obey a society that treats us like trash but breath anyways out of the fear of death? Where we viewed “Blade Runner” mostly through Deckard’s eyes who didn’t have much of a personality, K’s lack of a character is his entire purpose for existing. For K to emote is to face death.

Where Harrison Ford’s Deckard entire arc was us questioning if he’s human or not (despite what Ridley Scott unequivocally says), there’s nothing much of substance to Officer Deckard. He gets drunk, retires replicants, that’s it. Name one thing that makes Deckard standout? I’ll wait. Ryan Gosling’s Officer K goes from a machine that is dying spiritually on the inside to someone wanting to have a purpose in life. All while maintaining his composure, if perhaps too much poise for the film. Anything with a conscious can feel. Whether or not how it was made is as relevant as where you were born or what skin color you are. The importance is that you’re here.

K doesn’t seek gratitude nor affirmation. He doesn’t suffer from a narcissistic personality. All he wants is not just to be another useless piece of metal.

2. Deckard has depth this time

Being a daddy changes you a lot. Rick isn’t just a slouchy drunk who likes to shoot robots out of legal obligation. He’s a man who’s principles and love for forbidden things cost him his life. What kind of soul did Deckard have in the first film? Who did he care for? Please don’t say, Rachel, we all know why he was attracted to Rachel. Like Winston in 1984, Deckard rejects Big Brother for a life of pain to gain a glimmer of happiness.

3. It’s horrifyingly relevant

Denis Villeneuve based the imagery in 2049 on a planet that has become degraded with pollution. The buildings are extrapolating enormous amounts of water into the atmosphere, the sea wall at the end of the picture will be our new Mount Rushmore, the orange Vegas is happening now. Denis Villeneuve didn’t predict the earth looking like this, but his production team was still spot on. A picture that transcends its very style, developing a look that will be discussed on its merits separate from the ubiquitous original, is a stunning achievement.

Everything isn’t dystopian because that’s the way it was in the book. It’s what will happen to us in real life, why we’d look for colonies to live on if we had the technology or funding towards NASA to do so. God help us all.

4. The love story questions the essence of relationships

The story between K and Joi further examines the meaning of love, sex, and mortality, with the two being different versions of artificiality. When the default sexed-up version of a naked Joy pops up on the screen, we are emotionally mortified. Some of us may be repulsed to observe a character we care for utilized like a thirsty Godzilla.

The towering ad tries to seduce K tempting him to buy it, rendering everything Joi said to K throughout the picture questionable. Its manipulation solidifies his final decision in life to help another man. We’re not sure if she loved him or said what it thought it wanted him to hear throughout the narrative. Possibly Joi herself didn’t know her intentions. An unusual amount of nuance and uncertainty rests in the love story. Who do we love? Why do we love? Do we love by the heart or the heart of our designers whom we don’t know?

Meanwhile, Deckard was just drunk and horny when he bashed Rachel up against the wall. Sorry, that really was all there was to their passion despite what Wallace says.

5. The movie was an honest commentary about how the world views woman

Here’s a controversial one. A lot of women were disgusted by the way they were depicted in the film. Outwardly watching the movie, I can’t blame them. I’ll let Mr. Villeneuve speak for himself. “I am very sensitive to how I portray women in movies. This is my ninth feature film and six of them have women in the lead role. The first Blade Runner was quite rough on the women, something about the film noir aesthetic. But I tried to bring depth to all the characters. For Joi, the holographic character, you see how she evolves. It’s interesting, I think. What is cinema? Cinema is a mirror on society. Blade Runner is not about tomorrow; it’s about today. And I’m sorry, but the world is not kind on women.”

Villeneuve is right. Women today are still sexualized. Even with the Me Too movement, women are continually seen as sex objects or subservient slaves in a male-dominated society. Villeneuve isn’t interested in painting a rosy picture that Hollywood does for female roles to make the audiences feel comfortable. It’s an honest reflection on who we are. What we see is what we don’t want to see, but that’s part of the honesty of cinema.

6. The score is mesmerizing

Another point in which I may face some contention. Yes, Vangelis’ score is iconic, but it only works for the era it was composed in. Much of its mixture of bleeps, blops, and wind chimes are a product of its time. A lot of emotion is missing from the score other than the opening theme and “Tears In Rain.” Hearing much of the soundtrack while on the road, I sometimes thought I was listening to something from a porno. Take a listen to “Wait For Me” in the soundtrack and tell me otherwise. Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Walfisch’s score is timeless while also paying respect to Vangelis’ synthetic use in the original. It dives into the character’s mind providing a replication of something more human than what Vangelis composed.

7. It thematically ties more directly to “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep” than “Blade Runner” does.

“Blade Runner” got the overall gist of Phillip K Dick’s novel. Replicants are scared, trying to find a way to survive as Deckard hunts them down. However, the Andies in the movie almost deserve to die. In their quest for more life, they torture and kill multiple civilians. What did the guy making the eyes do to deserve being frozen to death? What about J.R. Sebastian? He was nothing but pleasant to Roy and Pris. Did Roy eye gauge him when he was done with Tyrell?

Aside from Luv (Sylvia Hoeks), our replicants are fully rounded people. Sapper Morton is a watchful protector who was meant to be a NEXUS 8 combat medic; Joi’s true intentions come into question for herself and us. K’s inner conflict is the central core of the story. All of this revolves around the meaning of existence within a world that has forgotten about you. The introduction of Robo procreation is an evolution of Dick’s ideas, widening his notion of why life exists in the first place.

8. It doesn’t get lost in the scale

Many sequels love scope over characters. Remember “The Matrix”? Remember how they talked about Zion and all these other things we didn’t see? When the sequels brought in Zion, the focus got lost in the spectacle. “The Matrix Reloaded” was a bumbling CGI mess of Agent Smith Clones and cave orgies. “The Matrix Revolutions” was a glorified “Space Invaders” game. Shoot as many sentinels as you can before becoming overwhelmed. Amidst the sequels bumbling chaos, I missed the smaller scale of the Nebuchadnezzar crew.

The story of “2049” could have focused on the replicant uprising with thousands of robots slamming into humans. We could have gone off-world to finally see what all these other colonies we’ve heard about are like. Some have argued that the movie could have borrowed some of its source material from the later novels about replicants creating humans, so on and so forth. All of that sounds incredible in theory. In execution, you would likely get “The Matrix” sequels.

A movie that overreaches in scope, attempting to please fans by showing everything. What we got was an incredibly meaningful story that further explores the themes of the original while building upon its world without going too far. We see what’s beyond L.A. on the dilapidated west coast. The answer is not much. The film aims at minimalism over extravaganza.

9. We’re still talking about it

After being MIA for decades, “Blade Runner 2049” isn’t forgotten. I can’t say the same for “Superman Returns,” “Monsters University,” “The Incredibles 2,” “Live Free or Die Hard,” and “Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of The Crystal Skull.” In fairness, people do talk about Indy 4, but not in a positive fashion. “Blade Runner 2049” returned to the limelight with disastrous box office results yet high accolades, even gaining the Academy’s attention. Ironically it seemed destined to live the life of its predecessor.

“2049” may have tanked because it was a multimillion-dollar art film that respected its audience’s intelligence. Maybe “Blade Runner” was too far gone amongst the public to gain an interest geared almost entirely towards comic books and Disney. I think the trailers after the reveal teaser looked too generic for my own two cents, turning me off from the film for a short while.

Here we are with Honest Trailers in 2020, making a video about a film that came out in 2017. Bloodsoaked orange skies from the headlines mention the atmosphere of this film. Somewhere, about 100 other people are writing their analysis of “Blade Runner 2049” as I type right now. Seven years from now, we’ll be talking about why the world is still like “Blade Runner 2049.” Villeneuve made a timeless sequel to be remembered.

10. It’s better than the first film and one of the best films in the last ten years

Here’s why you’ll probably agree with this one when you put your pitchfork down. Remove your nostalgia goggles. I know it’s hard to do, please, trust me. Look at the points I made above. Think about how ironic the love story is to our lives. The layers of meaning behind K’s existence is lightyears beyond the featureless Rick Deckard. The picture isn’t flawless. Niander Wallace is spectacularly corny in his scenery-chewing grim monologues. Dr. Eldon Tyrell had some ambiguity regarding the morale of his intentions. For that, I’ll give the original the benefit of my doubt. I understand Ryan Gosling was cast to be intentionally deadpan, but it’s okay to emote once. His distant stare in all of his other performances made it difficult for me to discern myself from the actor’s rather dull persona.

With this said, “Blade Runner 2049” understands cinema. Its atmosphere is why we venture into a dark room that takes us to a different place. Denis Villeneuve’s masterful follow up is one of the most orgasmic cinematic experiences I have witnessed in the last ten years that demands a re-screening in 2022 when theatres reopen at an entirely safe capacity. The style doesn’t overshadow its substance, which is far richer in detail than the original without grasping at blatant metaphors. “Blade Runner 2049” is slow cinema at its finest, letting us into the character’s heads, knowing when to be quiet and when to be loud.

Like “The Empire Strikes Back,” not everyone appreciated the movie at first. Time has been incredibly kind to it, though. I wish the Academy recognized “Blade Runner 2049” beyond its technical marvels in 2018. I suppose it wasn’t the type of picture that catches Oscar voter’s eyes. But it has acquired the audience’s to this day. Now, if you could just look up and to the left for me?

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sherrybaby14 · 6 years ago

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The Distraction XI

Summary: This is based off a request for a dark!Steve Rogers x Reader. You are innocent and Steve is in need of a distraction.

Warnings: THIS IS A RAPE/NONCON STORY. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS OFFENDS YOU.

A/N: So this is it! The last chapter! Thank you all for reading!!

His chest rose and fell at a rapid rate. Both of you speechless.

“I love you too.” He said the words in between pants.

They weren’t words though. They were more. They were everything. He was your everything.

Five minutes of work and then he could check again. Steve leaned back in his chair and ran his hands down his face. He had the browser window minimized, but all he could do was stare at it. What if she had moved rooms? What if…she tried to leave?

“Ugh.” Steve knew it wasn’t his finest moment but he clicked the mouse and maximized the screen.

His heart jumped in his throat. She was gone. He clicked the button to zoom out to all of the cameras and scanned the screen.

“If you want to slack at work I can recommend a better movie.” Tony’s voice made Steve jump in his chair. “Wow, you are distracted. I can’t remember the last time anyone snuck up on you.”

“It’s the first day I’m leaving her alone out of the basement.” Steve went back to scanning the images.

“There.” Tony leaned over and tapped the screen, zooming in on her. “See? Y/N’s fine.”

“She doesn’t like it when I watch her like this.” Steve watched as she curled up on the couch with a book.

“I told you, my system is flawless. You will always know where she is.” Tony bit into an apple with a crunch over Steve’s shoulder. “Now we don’t exactly have desk jobs. Any leads on that threat?”

“I don’t think it’s credible.” Steve made the camera image of you larger. “I used to love being here, but now I just want to be with her.”

“Retire.” Tony leaned back. “Or go down to a consulting position. I know you don’t need the money.”

Steve had been thinking about that exact idea lately. Then they could spend all their time together, and soon they would be ready to start a family and he didn’t want to miss a second of time with their children if he could help it.

“The old man is growing up.” Tony slapped Steve on the back. “I’m glad this whole experiment worked out for you.”

A smile spread across Steve’s face. He nodded, knowing Tony’s ego didn’t need a full-on thank you. But Steve had his girl now and that wouldn’t have been possible without Tony’s assistance. Steve was catching on to technology, but Tony helped with the door and cameras amongst other things.

Steve’s smile faltered when she stood up from the couch. He recognized body cues and she went from relaxed to almost running.

“You should put it on motion setting then the view would auto-switch. Go to camera four.” Tony tapped the screen sending it into touch mode and made the change.

Steve’s knuckles went white as he watched her sprint to the hall and towards the front door. He knew leaving her alone was a mistake. She wasn’t ready. He stood up from his desk ready to rush home, equal parts scared, angry, and disappointed.

Her hand grabbed the handle and Steve started to turn.

“Woah, calm down.” Tony set his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“I told her not to leave.” Steve ignored Tony and started towards the door. “Now we’re going to end up back at square one.”

“WAIT.” Tony was one of the few people who could give that command and Steve would listen. “Look.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder to see you curled up on the porch screen. His adrenaline started to fade, but then his jaw clenched.

“I was clear. She wasn’t supposed to leave the house.” Steve walked back over. “What if she’s testing the limits? Seeing how far she can get without me noticing?”

“Of course she’s testing the limits.” Tony took another bite of his apple. “Wouldn’t you?”

“She should have asked me first.” Steve knew he should have left her in the basement. “She’s not ready.”

“I thought she dropped the L word?” Tony dipped his chin. “Check your phone.”

Steve pulled the thing from the pocket of his jeans. There it was on the home screen.

Would you mind if I sat on the porch?

It’s such a nice day. I’ll be good. I promise.

Please? The house is lonely without you.

You told me this is my home too, does that mean I can go outside? I won’t leave the porch I promise.

I am going to sit outside. Please don’t be mad at me.

I love you.

The text messages started two hours ago. Steve felt heavy with guilt.

“I was so busy watching her I didn’t even think about her messaging me.” Steve shook his head as he sat back down. “I saw her on her phone too, but I had mine on silent. I assumed she was checking e-mail or something.”

“Okay man. If you’re giving her access to e-mail/internet then this whole freaking out watching her behavior is your problem, not hers.” Tony folded his arms.

He tried to look disappointed, but the apple slipped from his fingers and hit the carpet with a thud.

“I never said it was on her.” Steve watched as she flipped the pages of her book.

“Retiring or not, there’s no way you can be with her every second of every day. It’s not healthy.” Tony picked up his fruit and continued to eat.

“You’re the definition of healthy?” Steve pointed to the fruit.

“You should take advice from the man who didn’t judge you for this entire situation.” Tony swirled his finger. “All I’m saying is, you’re never going to trust her unless you give her a choice. What’s that cliché?”

“If you love someone let them go.” Steve knew exactly where Tony was going, the thought had crossed his mind.

“Well that works too, but I was thinking ‘all is fair in love and war’.” Tony took another crunch from his apple. “Either way, do something because you being here physically with your head with her isn’t doing much good for the team.”

Steve sighed. He knew Tony was right, he had some choices to make and maybe it was time Y/N made one too.

~~~

Was it a test? Was he not responding because he was mad at you? Were you annoying him at work?

Or was it worse? Did something happen to him? For all you knew he was on a mission, battling bad guys, saving the world. As the hours ticked by the thoughts got worse. What if he was injured? You felt a panic attack come on.

You knew there were cameras all over the house. Maybe he was watching you. If he was and had a problem with you going outside, he would rush home, right?

That was enough. You ran towards the front door; sure you were going to lose your nerve if you paused to think about it.

As soon as you got to the swing your heart clenched. He said not to leave, would he be angry? Did you break a rule? You flipped through the pages of your book and then heard the ding.

Don’t go further than the porch. I’ll be home in two hours. We’re going out.

You dropped your head back and closed your eyes. He was safe. As soon as that settled in you picked your head back up. Out? A smile spread across your face. It had been so long. Was he going to take you to a movie? Maybe dinner?

He had promised to take you to Coney Island. The weather was nice, maybe it was time to ride some rides.

You tried not to get too excited because it didn’t matter where he was taking you as long as the two of you would be together.

The book and the porch were no longer interesting. You stood up and went back into the house, determined to make yourself look perfect for your date. You were going to take as long as possible to get ready because right now two hours sounded like an eternity.

~~~

The blue dress you chose would always have a special place in your heart. You ran your hands down the pleats and remembered the first time Steve dressed you. It must have been his favorite.

That scared girl seemed like a stranger. You remembered the night he took you and your virginity, but it wasn’t you shaking on the bed. It was like you were standing in the room watching the scene play out instead of being there.

Still, the vision made your lips part as you let out a stifled whimper. The phantom orgasm sending shivers down your sides as a tingle formed between your legs.

You pushed your thighs together and hoped if he brought you to Coney Island he would give you some panties.

Then the image of Steve’s hand creeping up your thigh as a rollercoaster went to the top caused another wave of excitement. You were definitely a different girl.

The break of the door opening sounded and you rounded the corner. Steve walked inside and you almost melted at the sight. You stood in the hall as he came to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, while you placed yours around his neck, giving you the touch you craved.

“I missed you doll.” He kissed the top of your head.

You squeezed and shut your eyes as tears started to form. It was hell being away from him.

“I love it when you get all ready for me like this.” He pulled back and you looked up. “Of course tonight it’s not just for me, is it?”

“It’s only for you.” A tremble worked its way over you. “Were you mad at me today?”

“No.” Steve brushed his hand over your hair. “You did very well. I need to get better at checking my phone.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have sent him so many messages. His work was so demanding and you knew in the back of your heart he wouldn’t have cared if you went on the porch. You shouldn’t bother him so much.

“Well, you look ready to go.” Steve dropped his arms from your waist. “Shall we?”

Your features tightened. You expected some private attention before you left. Your arousal went unanswered and you clenched your thighs.

“I recognize that look.” His blue eyes flashed as he dipped his chin and took your hand. “If we end up in bed we won’t end up leaving.”

“It doesn’t have to be the bed.” You blurted out as you pressed your hand to his chest.

“Very clever Y/N.” Steve placed another kiss on the top of your head. “But you know what I mean.”

You let out a sigh, not trying to hide your disappointment.

“Are you trying to break me down?” Steve tilted your chin up. “Because if you keep pouting like this I’m going to give in and cancel all our plans. Would you rather stay home?”

“I’m sorry.” You dropped your head and squeezed his hand. “I won’t pout.”

“Good girl.” Steve turned and led you out the door.

He spun around on the porch and locked the house. You had been on a few walks over the last couple weeks but hadn’t gone anywhere really. Steve offered to take to you a few stores, but it was so easy to have stuff delivered. For some reason your anxiety flared, maybe leaving wasn’t such a good idea.

“Are you alright doll?” Steve appeared next to you, a look of concern on his face.

You opened your mouth to tell him you wanted to stay home, but stopped. He wanted to go out and you couldn’t be a hermit forever. Besides, you would be with him all night. Safe.

“Yeah.” You placed your hand back in his. “Curious where we’re going.”

“It’s not far.” Steve walked off the porch first.

For some reason, your feet felt heavy, but you picked them up and walked in your flats right behind your man. He led you down the pathway that went around the house. Normally you went toward the beach and realized you didn’t really know what the back of the house looked like.

There was a concrete path that led through a backyard with a shed and a garage that faced out towards a back alleyway. Steve fiddled with the keys.

You tried to remember the last time you were in a car. It was probably the night Steve acquired you, but of course, you were unconscious. You brought your hand to your neck where he had poked you with a syringe and drugged you. Different girl.

He went to the garage and lifted the door. The space was immaculate with half of it turned into a workbench. In the center was a mid-size black SUV.

“You look surprised.” Steve led you over to the passenger’s side and opened the door.

“I pictured you a classic car guy.” He lifted you into the seat.

“I’m not really a car guy at all.” Steve leaned over and buckled your belt. “This one had a high safety rating. The classic ones are death traps.”

“It smells brand new.” You almost forgot what the new car scent was.

“It is.” Steve winked before shutting the door.

He walked around and jumped in the driver’s seat.

“I got it a few months ago when I decided I would be driving something very valuable.” He turned over the engine.

You looked out the window and tried to downplay how giddy his comment had made you. This was all for you.

He backed out the driveway and you were off. The sun was starting to set and you wished you grabbed a sweater. It didn’t take long until the houses disappeared and storefronts popped up. The old you would’ve been obsessing over each turn, trying to figure out where you were, but now you didn’t give that sort of thing a second thought.

You didn’t need to worry about that sort of thing. Steve would take care of you. The thought made you glance at your man. There was no smile on his face as he drove with a tense posture.

“Are you alright?” You shifted in your seat to look at him. “You seem nervous.”

“I’m fine.” Steve’s body language was a different story. It looked like he was squeezing the steering wheel so hard he might break the thing.

“I’m not going to run away or cause a scene. You don’t have to worry about that.” You reached out and put your hand on his fingers.

“I know doll.” Steve didn’t relax.

“In fact, I don’t want you to worry about anything.” You tried to study his reaction. “I love you. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Well, it’s my job to worry about you.” The car slowed down.

You looked around as Steve came to a high metal fence. He rolled down the window and then tapped in a security code. The gate opened to show lines of brick storage units.

“Where are we?” This wasn’t the date night you were imagining.

Steve didn’t respond as he drove down the line of orange doors. He slowed again toward the back.

“I have something to show you.” He stopped the car.

You looked at him and swore he was starting to sweat. He put the car in park and turned off the engine. He didn’t unbuckle his belt as he put his hands on the wheel. Whatever he was doing it was upsetting him.

“Hey, we can go.” You put your hand on his leg. “You don’t have to show me anything.”

Though your curiosity was spiked. The man had lived such an interesting, long life. You wondered what was in the storage unit. Maybe something from his childhood? Or something from the war?

“No.” Steve unbuckled his seatbelt. “Come on doll. It’s important.”

He reached over and undid yours before she opened the door and stepped out. You went to the handle on your side, but Steve was there in an instant. He picked you up from the seat and set you on your feet.

“Just…remember I love you.” Steve ducked his head down and pressed his lips to yours.

It took you by surprise, but you placed your hands on his cheeks and opened your mouth. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer as his tongue swirled with yours. The need between your legs started to grow again. How was it possible for one person to want another person this bad?

“Mmmmm.” You let out a moan and Steve pulled away.

You didn’t care what was in the storage unit. There was nothing from his past that could chase you away. You were his. Forever.

He went to the side of the garage style door and put in a key. It was dusk now and the sky was darkening by the second. Steve went to the center and opened the unit.

Nothing looked out of the ordinary. It looked mainly like furniture. There was a mattress on its side, a dresser, a television, and a couch.

The couch looked familiar. You took a step forward and realized it all looked familiar. A lump started to form in your throat. You didn’t know if it was a sob trying to break free or your voice getting caught.

You didn’t let either come out as you stepped inside the unit. Steve didn’t touch you as you passed him, staying a few feet behind you.

“Why are you showing me this?” The back had several bins stacked on top of each other.

“It’s time for you to decide Y/N.” Steve shuffled behind you.

“Decide?” You ran your fingertips over your old dresser and wondered if your clothes were inside or in the bins in the back.

“If you want to leave, I’ll set you up with a new apartment and support you financially until you get settled.” There was a shake to Steve’s voice. “If you want to stay, it will be more of the same. I still expect you to follow my rules. I’ll take care of you. Keep you….”

“Stop.” The tears in your eyes started to fall down your cheeks. “Just stop.”

You knew you shouldn’t talk to him that way, but your brain was firing off in all directions and you couldn’t concentrate on anything. The man might as well have been speaking gibberish. A decision? A choice?

You glanced around the storage unit, looking at all of your old possessions. The television you used to binge watch, the crummy kitchen table where you ate you take out and doubled as a desk, the couch you used to fall asleep on more often than the mattress whose springs poked you in the back.

“Please Y/N.” Steve’s voice startled you. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

It was like everything was moving in slow motion as you spun to face him. He bit his lip and stuck his hands in his back pockets as he glanced at the ground before meeting your eyes.

He took a step forward and you knew he wanted to hug you, but you took a step back and lifted your hand. Right now you didn’t want comfort from him.

“I am thinking you look so sad.” Steve held both of his hands in the air. “And I want to hold you until you’re smiling again.”

“You said you would never let me go.” Your voice cracked. “So either this is a test, and if I chose to leave you are going to take me back home and start over again, back to the basement, or it means that your feelings for me have changed and you’re no longer willing to burn the world down for me.”

Steve lowered his hands and flexed his jaw.

“Either way it hurts.” You took a step towards him. “But it doesn’t matter because I am not giving you a choice.”

You brought your hand up and cupped his face before looking him square in the eyes.

“I crave you. Your touch. Your control. Your guidance. Your praise. All of it.” Your eyes went to his lips. “So I won’t make a decision, because there’s never been a choice, for either of us.”

In the same movement, Steve crashed his lips against yours and brought his hands under your ass, lifting you into the air and storage unit. You wrapped your legs around him and wiggled in his embrace, trying to rub your body against his as your kiss deepened.

Steve fell forward and your back hit the couch. Both of your hands dropped to his waist as you undid his jeans. You continued to kiss and realized he had better positioning to free his cock so you bunched the skirt of your dress up and spread your legs.

He owned you and that was how you wanted it. There was no sense in fighting that fact. Missing him all day had left your soaking and there was no need to ease inside.

Even with the lubrication, he filled you with such force that you broke the kiss and winced. Steve didn’t stop as he brought his hips back and slammed into you with power making you moan and cry at the same time.

The door to the unit was still wide open and any patron could drive by so you knew you had to be quiet.

“All mine Y/N.” Steve moved back and slammed inside of you again. “Every bit of you is mine.”

There was such force behind his movement and his words that you moaned. He quickened his pace, not pulling out as far but still pumping into you so hard your body bounced on the couch. You were about to start screaming from pleasure if you didn’t find something to do with your mouth.

His neck was right in front of you and you grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down closer to you as your mouth attached to it. You sucked in hard and pressed your tongue against his skin as he kept stuffing you with his cock.

You brought your arms around his back and held him closer, lifting your body as best you could while you were caged underneath him, still sucking his skin hard into your mouth. The closeness made him press against your clit with every thrust.

Each time he hit your bundle of nerves you squealed, making it harder to keep your lips on his neck.

Steve put more weight on you and started rocking his hips, keeping more pressure on your clit while he filled you. It was too much and you dropped your head back to the couch and let out a moan.

“That’s right Y/N.” Steve started going even faster and you couldn’t stay quiet. You panted and moaned underneath him. “You’re so good. You take me so well.”

The praise made your toes curl and the coil in your stomach tighten.

“Perfect. My perfect Y/N.” Steve’s face was right above yours. “Cum for me doll, like the good girl you are.”

“Ahhh!” You didn’t hold back as the spring burst forward.

It was hard to tell if it was black spots or just darkness but your orgasm ripped through you with a roar. Steve gave two more quick thrusts until he followed you over the cliff, his cock unloading inside of you.

You dropped your arms until they were at the sides of your head while Steve pressed his face into the couch. Your fingers trailed the fabric. You never thought this couch would see any action.

“We should get out of here.” Steve’s cock slid out making you whimper.

He tucked himself back into his pants and offered you a hand. You stood up and felt your juices trail down your leg. You wished you were at home, then the two of you could have undressed all the way.

He brought your hand to his lips and then pulled you close, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Steve?” You leaned against him.

“Yeah doll?” He walked you to the car and opened the passenger’s side door before lifting you inside and buckling you in.

“Never bring me back here again.” You pressed your lips.

Steve looked up at you with wide eyes. There was hidden meaning in your words that was not lost on him. He gave you a single nod in understanding.

He stood up and placed a peck on your lips before he shut the door and closed up the storage unit. When he climbed in the car the light from the door gave you enough time to see your work.

Steve turned over the engine and drove away while a smile spread across your face. He owned you, but you owned him as well. And right now there was a mark of your ownership in a big purple hickey on his neck.

~~~

It was hard to keep his eyes on the road. He wanted to keep glancing at her, especially when she was smiley like this.

Steve reached out and took her hand, feeling guilty he didn’t have both of his on the wheel. If they got in a car accident and she was hurt he would never forgive himself.

“I didn’t think we were in the car this long on the way out. Are we going home?” She glanced around the neighborhood.

“Not yet.” Steve gave a smile. “I thought it was time to introduce you to some people.”

Her eyes went wide and she dropped Steve’s hand and flipped open the mirror.

“No…can we go home?” She looked perfect. “At least let me change? I mean…I smell like…and there’s stuff on my leg.”

“You smell like me.” Steve wanted her to have the reminder. “And that’s my stuff on your leg.”

Steve spotted the pizza parlor and found a parking spot right out front.

“I’m not ready for this.” She started to shake her hands out. “Please, can we reschedule?”

“You are ready.” Steve leaned over and unbuckled her seatbelt. “They’re going to love you. Just be yourself.”

He got out of the car and grinned. Tonight had gone perfect. Y/N was clever and saw right through his ruse, but she was confident enough to call him on it. Of course, he was never going to let her go.

“Please.” She looked at the ground when he brought her out of the car. “Another night?”

“Don’t overthink it.” Steve wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her inside. “It’s just a small group.”

He walked inside and held her tight. Bruce spotted them first and Steve led her over to the back.

“So this is the famous Y/N?” Tony asked. “I understand why you’ve been keeping her to yourself.”

“Ignore them.” Nat held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hello.” Y/N shook hands.

Steve sat down and put her chair extra close to his. Tony started talking and he noticed Y/N start to relax. He knew she was ready.

“Is that a hickey?” Bruce got Steve’s attention.

“What?” Steve touched his neck.

“Way to go Y/N.” Nat held up her hand and Y/N gave her a high five.

His girl turned to look at him and she gave a sheepish smile.

“Oh, we’re going to talk about this when we get home.” Steve winked as he placed a light kiss on her neck.

Nat started up a conversation with Y/N and Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and rubbed his thumb in a small circle.

She was his perfect distraction. So shy, too smart for her own good, beautiful, and she had developed so wonderfully under him.

Steve continued to rub the tiny circle and his smile grew. If she wanted to mark him with a hickey on his neck it was fine, he pushed a little harder and then felt it.

There was no way she was ever going to leave him or get away. He made sure of that on their first night when she was still unconscious, in fact, it was the first thing he had done in her apartment after knocking her out.

His thumb moved again over the tiny microchip in her neck. Maybe one day he would tell her about it, but he didn’t think so. He didn’t want to risk having her try and rip it out. Besides, she was being so good right now, but what if that changed?

Steve had to be prepared for anything and one thing was sure. He was never going to let her go. NEVER.

THE DISTRACTION

Thank you everyone for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Feedback is always appreciated!

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #Steve rogers x reader #marvel fanfic #smut #dark!Steve

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saiilorstars · 5 years ago

Text

The Beginning of Everything

I was going to wait on publishing this story here but I realize it’s the only story that isn’t going to be so far apart in terms of chapters between the different websites I publish them on. So, enjoy!

Fandom: Doctor Who Pairing: Female OC x 10th Doctor

Story summary: While hiding from the Family, Martha Jones and the 10th Doctor (currently John Smith) come across a particular woman who does not want anything to do with them. In fact, Martha would go as far as to say that Renata Cartwright hates them, more so the Doctor. After the Family is gone and the Doctor returns, he comes face to face with a woman who wants nothing to do with him...almost as if she knew him. And she outright refuses to travel with him. *First of the Home Saga*

The face claim for this OC will be the actress Marjorie De Sousa!

// Story Masterlist //

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Chapter 1: Hidden

The console of the TARDIS sparked like crazy, Martha and the Doctor picking themselves off the floor. The Doctor rushed over to Martha and pulled her up, urgently needing to know, "Did they see you?"

"I don't know!" Martha cried out, still trying to gather her bearings. She felt like her lungs would explode from all the running they did just to get into the TARDIS.

"Did they see you?"

"I don't know, I was too busy running!"

"Martha, it's important - did they see your face?" the Doctor wouldn't desist in asking until he got a sure answer from her.

"No, they couldn't have!"

The Doctor ran around the console, pushing the controls to get them the hell out of there, "Off we go!"

Martha came to join him, the Doctor watching the rotor with intent. Suddenly, a beeping sound cut in and symbols appeared on the screen, "Ah!" the Doctor, heavily irritated, grabbed the screen and read it, "They're following us," he returned to the control.

"How can they do that, you've got a time machine," Martha frowned, wasn't that the point of these things?

"Stolen technology, they've got a Time Agent's vortex manipulator. They can follow us wherever we go, right across the universe..." the Doctor paused, knowing what that would mean, " They're never going to stop," he ran a hand through his hair nervously, until an idea popped up, "Unless...I'll have to do it..." he stared at Martha, directly into her eyes, "Martha, you trust me don't you?"

"Of course I do," Martha nodded, nearly offended at the question.

"Cause it all depends on you," he dove under the console.

"What does, what am I supposed to do?" Martha watched in confusion as he reappeared holding an ornate pocket watch in his hand.

"Take this watch, 'cause my life depends on it. The watch, Martha- The watch is-"

John Smith gasped awake, looking around and seeing he was in his room, on his bed, in blue striped pajamas. He sat up, thinking a few moments of his odd dream, and rubbed his eyes. A few seconds later, there was a knock on the door and he stood up. "Come in!" he called.

Martha Jones walked in, wearing a maid's uniform and carrying a tray of breakfast. Upon seeing John still in his pajamas, her eyes widened and she promptly turned back, "Pardon me, Mr. Smith, you're not dressed yet. I can come back later-"

"No, it's alright, it's alright. Put it down," he pulled a dressing gown around himself, tying it closed.

Martha walked to a table in the center of the room and set the tray down, her eyes lowered while John watched her thoughtfully, "I was, um... " he then realized he was staring at his maid and shook his head, "Sorry, sorry. Sometimes I have these extraordinary dreams."

"What about, sir?" Martha crossed the room to the window, pulling the curtains open.

"I dream I'm this..." he paused again, looking for the right word that could possibly describe himself, "Adventurer. This...daredevil, a madman. 'The Doctor', I'm called. And last night I dreamt that you were there, as my... companion."

Martha returned to the tray on the table, "A teacher and a housemaid, sir? That's impossible. "

"Ah no, a man from another world, though..."

"Well it can't be true because there's no such thing."

John moved over to the fireplace, looking at the mantle, "This thing..." he picked up his fob watch, "The watch..."

Martha watched in hope...but he set it back on the mantle with a sigh.

"Ah, it's funny how dreams slip away," he turned back to Martha, "But I do remember one thing; it all took place in the future. In the year of our Lord two thousand and seven."

"I can prove that wrong for you sir, here's the morning paper," she handed him the paper, "It's Monday, November tenth, nineteen thirteen, and you're completely human, sir. As human as they come."

"Mmm, that's me; completely human," John smiled.

~0~

"Where are you going, mother?" a small, little girl poked her head into her mother's room.

A young, blonde woman was staring at herself in the mirror, a soft smile on her face when she saw her daughter, "I'm visiting your brother today at the academy."

"Again? Is Sebastian really that much of a momma's boy?" the girl tilted her head, a hint of a teasing smile spreading across her face.

"Lucy, watch your tongue," she snapped, "Now you be good to Elena, understood? I shouldn't be late for lunch."

"Yes, mother," Lucy nodded and disappeared, going off to her nana's room.

The mother took one last look at each other before smiling in satisfaction and heading off to see her son.

~0~

In the school corridor, Martha, along with her friend Jenny, another maid, were on their hands and knees scrubbing the tiled floor. John walked past them, Martha smiling and watching after him, "Morning, sir,."

John slowed down, a bit distracted, "Yes, hi," he disappeared up the stairs.

"Head in the clouds, that one. Don't know why you're so sweet on him," Jenny shook her head with a smile while Martha just watched after John.

"He's just kind to me, that's all. Not everyone's that considerate, what with me being..." Martha pointed to her face, specifically the color of her skin.

"A Londoner?" Jenny smiled.

"Exactly. Good old London town!" Martha laughed.

Two senior students, Baines and Hutchinson, walked past the the two and turned back, "Ah, now then, you two," Baines called, "You're not paid to have fun, are you. Put a little backbone into it."

Jenny and Martha looked at each other, their laughter cut short, "Yes Sir, sorry, Sir," mumbled Jenny.

"You there, what's your name again?" Hutchinson asked Martha.

"Martha, Sir. Martha Jones."

"Tell me then, Jones. With hands like those, how can you tell when something's clean?"

The two boys laughed cruelly, Martha narrowing her eyes at the pair.

"Now then, I do hope I heard wrong," a woman's voice cut short the laughter of the two students.

The students turned around to see a blonde woman standing behind them, even Martha and Jenny taking a peek.

The blonde woman had put her hands on her hips and was giving the two students such a disapproving, motherly look. "You know, I would think this school would take priorities on manners instead of weapons. Your manners are your principles, your core. If you disrespect someone...who does that make you, then? If you are going to be respectable men of this world, then you must know everyone is valuable, indispensable, to one another. Apologize to that woman right now," she nodded over to Martha.

The students glanced at each other before turning to Martha, "We're...sorry," they muttered.

"Good, now go and call Sebastian for me, please. Tell him his mother is here to visit him."

"Yes, ma'am," they muttered and walked away.

The blonde rolled her eyes, sighing and fixing herself, "I do hope they learn their lesson," she spoke, Martha a bit confused if she was talking to her or herself. The blonde looked up, "I apologize. Give them a weapon and suddenly they can stomp around everyone. I don't think so," she wagged a finger and walked up the stairs.

"That woman," Jenny shook her head, "We need woman like that. I tell you what, that's probably why she hasn't remarried anymore, no man likes a woman who speaks against the way of a man."

Martha was still a bit in shock from the blonde woman. She felt those words were...a bit beyond her time...

~0~

"And so he's doing well, then?" the same blonde was asking the headmaster about her son.

"Mrs. Cartwright, he is doing pretty well," the headmaster assured, but then after a moment he reluctantly added, "There is only one teacher who remarks a bit differently about him," the headmaster nodded.

Both of them were walking down the corridor of the second level. Their intention was to find Sebastian seeing that the other two students her mother had ordered to call him hadn't done the job.

"Really? And what seems to be the problem?" Mrs. Cartwright asked, a bit surprised of the news. She had yet to meet a teacher who disfavored her son.

"I wouldn't know how to tell you, honestly. That would be Mr. Smith's department."

"Well, do you mind if I have a word with Mr. Smith, then?"

"Not at all, I do believe he was at the library."

"Ah, yes, well thank you headmaster," Mrs. Cartwright nodded, walking ahead. She left the headmaster behind, intending on finding this Mr. Smith and having a good word with him. However, as she turned into a new hallway she bumped into one of the students. "Sebastian!" she cried in delight at seeing her son.

"Sorry mother," the brunette boy shook his head, "I was a bit excited to know you were coming."

"Oh, so then they did tell you I was here," Mrs. Cartwright took her son into a big hug. "I was thinking that perhaps after the big scolding I gave them they wouldn't listen to me."

"You need to stop doing things like that," Sebastian pulled away, not seeming angry but still not content with the news of his mother's outburst reaching every corner of the school in minimal time.

"Well then your friends need to acquire some manners," Mrs. Cartwright retorted. "But now is not the time to talk about that. I was actually on my way to speak with one of your teachers. It seemed like you haven't pleased him."

Sebastian sighed, knowing which teacher that was, "It's not my fault, mother."

"You earn the grade you work for. Now I'd like to know why this teacher comment differently about you," she pointed.

"But it's not my fault!"

"Sebastian, your choices have consequences. Do not blame your teacher for something you have earned," she turned him around and starting walking with him, "I want to talk to this teacher, know what exactly is going on and how we can intervene."

Sebastian knew there was no getting out of this. So when he saw Mr. Smith coming in their direction, fumbling with a pile of books, he sighed and pointed ahead, "That's him over there, mother."

His mother looked ahead, seeing the man and walking over, "Good morning, Mr. Smith," she greeted, watching him fumble over the top book of his pile.

"Uh yes, hello," he was a bit distracted with the pile, though knowing the voice was unfamiliar to him, "Morning, Miss...uh..."

"Cartwright, em..." she reached for the top book that was falling, accidentally brushing against the other books and making them all just plummet to the floor, "Oh!"

"Ah!" John sighed in exasperation.

"Dear me, I do apologize Mr. Smith!'

"No, it's um... it's quite..." he looked up, a bit surprised of the woman before him, "...alright," he definitely had never seen her before and so that must mean she had to be... "Sebastian Cartwright, is this your mother?" the young boy nodded, "Well...um, hello," John seemed to stutter, the blonde smiling politely, "I'm, um, John, John Smith," he held out his hand.

"Hello..." the blonde reached for his hand, also a bit stunned at the sight of the man, "...I'm Renata, Renata Cartwright."

"Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Cartwright," he took her hand and kissed the back of it, making Renata fluster at the contact.

In the background, Sebastian rolled his eyes. Great, this was the last thing he needed, his mother and his teacher. As the two looked at each other for several moments, John found her exquisitely beautiful.

Renata Cartwright was rather tall, almost to John's height, her golden blonde hair falling midway her back in soft curls. Her eyes were a deep chocolate brown and her cheeks wore a light pink tinge to them.

"Renata is just fine," she took her hand back, "Um, I wanted to talk to you about my son's problem that he apparently has in your class."

"Ah, well, if you'd like to talk about it...we could do it right now, just as soon as I bring these books to my room," he gestured to the big mess she'd caused.

"Allow me to help," she quickly volunteered, "After all, it is my fault," she bent down and the pair started picking them up, each carrying half the weight.

"Mother, can I go now?" Sebastian asked once the two had stood up with the pile of books.

"Yes, be good now," she warned sternly, "I have enough trouble from your sister. I don't need my eldest boy to make ruckus like a toddler."

"Yes, mother," he nodded and went on his way.

"Now then, where were these headed again?" Renata turned to John..

"To my room," he nodded behind him.

"Then off we go," she walked ahead of him.

It only took a couple corridors for them to make a decent conversation with each other.

"So Sebastian is distracted often," John was saying, "He's intelligent, brilliant, very careful...but he gets distracted very easily."

"Yes, I do recall that being a problem last year as well. I promise you, John, I will talk to my boy and I will make him pay attention," Renata assured.

"It's nice to see you take great interest in your son's education," John smiled.

"Well, if I won't, who will?"

"Your husband, I would imagine..."

Renata swallowed, stopping at an alcove of the staircase, turning to an announcement board for a distraction, "Oh look at this, my little Lucy has been speaking about this. It's the annual dance at the village hall tomorrow. It's nothing formal, but rather fun by all accounts."

"I take it you and your husband will be attending?" John watched her face sort of grow in distaste for some reason.

"My husband is dead, John," she informed quietly, "He died many years ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Renata," he shook his head, feeling terrible for bringing up the subject, "Please excuse my imprudence."

"No, it's quite fine. I don't usually talk about it, hardly anyone knows."

"Well, um..." he glanced back at the noticeboard, wanting a quick distraction for her, "...You should really go to the dance."

"I should?" Renata blinked, "I hadn't thought about it."

"Yeah, you're beautiful no doubt," he gestured to her appearance, clearing his throat when he realized what had been said, "You're young, and you seem like a lovely woman. Why wouldn't anyone ask you?:

"Well, it's been ages since I've been to a dance cos no one's asked me," she laughed nervously. "Who wants to ask the widow?"

What was she doing? Was she actually nervous of a human? And not a scared nervous but a...blushing, heart beating, nervous? No. That could not happen. Ever.

"Well, I should imagine that you would be...um...I mean I never thought you'd be one for... I mean there's no reason why you shouldn't..." John started muzzling, backing away from her, "If you do, you may not...I probably won't, but even if I did then I couldn't...um, I mean maybe we could...um..."

"John, the stairs," Renata turned to him, eyes slightly wide in alarm.

"It - what about them?" he continued backing up.

"Well they're right behind you..."

John turned to see the stairs and overbalanced, falling backwards. Renata dropped her books and hurried to see...but the man was already on the floor with all the books sprawled everywhere.

"Oh dear..." she made a face.

Had she caused this?

~0~

Renata entered John's room holding Matron Joan's medical bag. Joan was cleaning a cut on the back of the man's head, John groaning against the pain.

Renata chuckled, "My little Lucy causes less trouble than you, and she's eight!"

"Because it hurts!" he pouted sulkily.

Renata shook her head and handed the bag over to Matron Joan, "Here you go. And thank you for coming."

Matron Joan and Renata were very good friends, even before John Smith had arrived. Renata was also learning the ways to become a nurse and Joan was more than glad to help her along the way.

The door to the room opened and Martha burst in, "Is he alright?"

"Excuse me, Martha. It's hardly good form to enter a master's study without knocking," Joan scolded.

Martha, heavily annoyed, walked back to the door and simply knocked twice, "Better?" she raised an eyebrow and returned, "Is he alright?" she looked at John, "They said you fell down the stairs, Sir."

Renata watched Martha carefully, picking up some extra care in the woman's eyes.

"No, it was just a tumble, that's all," John mumbled.

"Have you checked for concussion?" Martha asked Joan.

Renata was now fairly intrigued by the woman's knowledge.

"I have. And I daresay I know a lot more about it than you," Joan snapped.

Martha remembered she wasn't supposed to know anything about medicine and nodded, "Sorry. I'll just..." she looked at the Doctor, "...tidy your things."

Renata glanced between Martha and Joan, "Well, no need to be tensed...either of you. If you're just trying to help, I mean..."

Joan shook her head, not understanding how Renata could defend the maid. But that was just like her. She would defend anyone or help anyone that needed her.

"John, are you sure you're okay?" Renata bent down in front of him, still mighty guilty she had been the reason he had fallen down the stairs.

"Physically, yes," John nodded, seeing the confusion stir in her eyes, "I was telling Nurse Redfern- Matron, um, about my dreams. They are quite remarkable tales."

"Have they been interrupting your sleep?" she asked, her own recurring dreams, more like nightmares than anything, flashing through her head.

"No, well...they're a bit strange, but...not bad."

Meanwhile, Martha looked at the trio, hearing John explain to the women about his 'dreams'. She didn't think it was a good idea to disclose anything about the Doctor to these humans...but it's not like she could stop them, right?

"I keep imagining that I'm someone else, and that I'm hiding..."

"Hiding? In what way?" Joan asked, a bit interested herself.

"Um... er... almost every night..." John laughed, "This is going to sound silly..."

"Then tell us," Renata smiled, in the mood for something that could make her smile and forget.

"I dream, quite often, that I have two hearts."

Renata's smile faded.

"Well then, I can be the judge of that," Joan reached into her doctor's bag and took out a stethoscope.

Renata stood up and backed away, watching with great intent as Joan placed the stethoscope against John's chest. Upon hearing one heartbeat, Joan moved it to his left side and heard nothing.

"I can confirm the diagnosis- just one heart, singular."

Renata looked around the room, as if searching for something.

"I have written down some of these dreams in the form of fiction... um... not that it would be of any interest...to either of you," John cast a look to Renata, a bit more interested for her to hear.

"I'd be very interested..." Joan spoke up first, smiling as she noticed the man's gaze on her friend behind, "...and I'm sure Renata would love to hear as well."

At the mention of her name, Renata's eyes snapped back to the pair, startled to see John just staring at her, "Oh, um...sure, yes..." she watched John beam and move to his desk, Martha noticing the woman's gaze had changed and liked like she was... studying?

"Well... I've never shown it to anyone before," John returned with a black leather bound journal in his hands.

Renata slowly took it from him, studying the handwritten title on the first page, "'Journal of Impossible Things'" she turned the first couple of pages, Joan moving beside her as they both took in its contents.

Martha saw the immediate different reactions from both women. Matron Joan looked in deep awe, her eyes scanning every last detail on the pages. Renata, on the other hand, had gone pale. Her eyes were wide, filled with what one would call horror. Her eyes slowly looked from one sketch to another, widening more and more.

"Just look at these creatures!" Joan chuckled, turning the page to reveal a Dalek sketch in ink.

Renata nearly dropped the book at the sight, swallowing hard as she handed it to Joan, "Sorry...um, I-I just...I can't," she made a break for the door.

"Renata!" John swiftjy caught up, holding onto her arm and gently turning her around, "Are you okay? Have I frightened you?"

Renata breathed heavily, "Who are you?" she whispered. Neither noticed Martha stepping up, on high alarm. Had they been caught?

"I'm...I'm John," he smiled awkwardly, "Are you sure you don't want to have a seat? You seem rather pale."

Her eyes flickered from him to Joan, who was also looking in concern. Renata figured if she wanted to know, know the identity of this false man, she had to stay and read the journal. She nodded and allowed John to bring her over to the couch, sitting her down with caution.

"I must say, John, your imagination is quite vast," Joan moved over to the pair, showing the journal to Renata in hopes she could help her blonde friend. It was just like Renata to drive away any man that showed the least bit of interest in her.

Renata took another look at the pages, hoping to God she had seen wrong the first time. But as she passed the pages, she saw familiar creatures. Her breathing struggled to maintain itself at a normal rate. There were Autons sketched over, the Moxx of Balhoon, and clockwork robots.

"It's wonderful," she whispered, turning the page to see a sketch of Rose Tyler's face, "And quite an eye for the pretty girls."

"Oh no no, she's just an invention. This character, Rose, I call her, Rose," John quickly said, feeling compelled to clarify he didn't know the woman and most certainly didn't want anything to do with her, "Seems to disappear later on..."

Renata's breath hitched as she turned to the next page. There were Cybermen...a sketch of a TARDIS.

"Ah, that's the box, the blue box, it's always there," John pointed to the blue box, "Like a...like a magic carpet, this funny little box that transports me to far away places."

"Like a doorway?" tried Joan.

"Mmm..."

Renata, again, turned the page and with rather haste. She found different faces, ten different faces...

"I sometimes think how magical life would be if things like this were true," John said, distracted as he looked from one face to another.

"If only," Joan chuckled.

"It's just a dream."

"Just a dream..." Renata whispered, turning the next page and finding...a fob watch.

~0~

Renata and Matron Joan walked out of John's room, Renata holding a tight grip on John's journal. She had asked him if she could borrow the journal and keep reading. She had to know who he was...

"Ma'am! That book-" Martha Jones ran after the pair.

"Oh I'll look after it, don't worry. He did say I could read it," Renata turned around, now looking at Martha with distrust.

"But it's silly, that's all," Martha insisted, nervously smiling, "Just stories."

"Then I am sure it will be interesting to read," Joan said, trying to usher Renata to walk.

"Who is he, Martha?" Renata suddenly asked, her eyes narrowing as Martha nearly stumbled back from the question.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, noticing the change in Renata's tone and posture. The woman seemed soft at first, warn and kind. Now she was cold, her eyes searching Martha endlessly for an answer. She seemed almost...threatening.

"Joan, could you go on ahead without me?" Renata asked, glancing at her friend, "We'll go and have that tea."

Joan nodded and walked off, Martha cautiously stepping back. Renata awaited the appropriate time to speak again, wanting no one to hear her.

"Your name was Martha, right?"

"Martha Jones, ma'am," Martha nodded.

"Martha Jones," Renata tested the name out, "Let me see if I remember correctly, according to Sebastian and Joan, Mr. Smith arrived two months ago with you?".

"He found me employment here at the school...I used to work for the family, he just sort of inherited me," Martha felt like she had suddenly been thrown into an interrogation room.

"Well see, here's the thing that intrigues me about you..."

"Me?" Martha pointed to herself in confusion.

"All the maids here never speak up like you do. They keep their heads down and serve their masters and mistresses with respect and distance. But you...you sometimes seem a little familiar with him. All this leads me to one question, one question that I will find out through this journal," Renata glanced at the journal in her hands, Martha looking at it vaguely, "Or...through your lips," Renata looked up at her, the same coldness bathing her eyes, "Who is he, Martha?"

Martha tensed, "Well, who are you?"

"I'm Renata Cartwright, and you?" Renata waited, or rather gave a chance for Martha to speak up. Unfortunately, Martha did nothing but stare silently. "You are not from here, that easily I can tell. So then, who is John Smith?" but Martha stepped back again, remaining silent. Renata took it as a declaration of war, sensing Martha's outright refusal to answer, "Listen here, Martha Jones, if either you or 'John Smith' try anything to hurt my son, my daughter, my friends..." Renata stepped closer to Martha, utterly harsh, "...you will get to know just who I really am."

Martha swallowed, no clue of what to do next. Renata backed away and turned, walking off with satisfaction that her message got through.

She had lost everything once...she would not lose the little she had managed to build for herself.

~0~

It was dark out by the time Renata had finished reading John Smith's journal. She sat by the couch, in front of the window, and looked up. She let out a shaky breath, her hands closing the journal. It was him...it was...him.

"You have got to go," she whispered, her eyes threatening to spill with tears.

~0~

Outside the village pub, Martha and Jenny sat at a small round table with their drinks.

"Ooh, it's freezing out here! Why can't we have a drink inside the pub?" Martha complained as she drank out of her pint.

"Now don't be ridiculous - you do get these notions! It's all very well those Suffragettes; but that's London, that's miles away," Jenny waved her off.

"But don't you want to scream sometimes, having to bow and scrape and behave, don't you just wanna tell them?"

"I dunno. Things must be different in your country."

"Yeah, well they are. Thank God I'm not staying," Martha made a face and looked away for a moment.

"You keep saying that..."

"Just you wait. One more month and I'm as free as the wind," Martha dreamed of the day the Doctor would return and take her away again. "I wish you could come with me, Jenny - you'd love it!"

"Where are you gonna go?"

"Anywhere, hopefully soon," Martha swallowed, thinking of today's account.

Renata Cartwright had practically declared herself an enemy of the Doctor and hers. She wanted to leave as quick as possible and could only hope Renata wouldn't do anything in the last month they needed to remain in hiding.

Martha looked up to the sky, sighing, "That's where I'm going. Into the sky, all the way out."

Jenny laughed at the notions of her friend, but Martha remained gazed up at the sky. Suddenly, Martha saw a green light flares across the sky, disappearing after a corner second or two.

"Did you see that?" Martha sat up, her gaze stuck on the sky.

"See what?" Jenny barely looked up, seeing nothing but stars.

"Did you see it though?" Martha stood up, her heart beating faster. Could this be one of Renata's tactics against the Doctor and her? "Right up there, just for a second."

"Martha, there's nothing there," Jenny stood up as well, but Martha remained unconvinced.

"You!" Renata Cartwright suddenly appeared, storming towards Martha and Jenny, her finger pointed violently at Martha.

Martha stumbled back, Renata going straight for her, "What's wrong, miss?"

"I'm only going to tell you this once," Renata stopped right in front of her, her eyes nearly gobbling Martha up with anger, "You and your Doctor need to get the hell out of here!"

Martha blinked rapidly, her mind racing to figure out how to calm the woman, "Um, M-Miss Cartwright, you-"

"GET OUT!" Renata screamed, Martha flinching greatly.

"Miss Cartwright," Jenny stood, completely alarmed.

"Go home, Jenny," Renata instructed, not even turning to see how afraid the woman was of her at the moment. She was focused on Martha, and 'the Doctor'.

"I guess you know everything now, but...I just gotta ask...how?" Martha blinked, completely confused.

Even if she had read the whole journal, how could she know who the Doctor was? How could she think, for one moment, that the Doctor was real? Why would a human, besides Martha herself, in the year 1913 ever believe that there was a man of another universe, with two hearts and a blue box?

"That is none of your business!" Renata gritted her teeth, "You will listen to me and get out! Get out of 1913, because this...this is my time! This is my home, now and you will not ruin this!" her voice faulted and her eyes began watering up.

At that moment, John Smith emerged from the pub, a hat in his hand. He smiled when he saw the presence of Renata Cartwright and joined them, "Renata, how are you-" he reached for her arm when she jerked it away from him.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, stepping back from him and Martha.

John frowned, "Um...is everything alright?"

"You and her need to leave!" Renata exclaimed, confusing him even more, "You need to get your things and-"

'There!" Martha suddenly pointed to the sky again, everyone looking up to see the same green light fly over like a shooting star.

Renata immediately quieted down at the sight, something was wrong...something would be very wrong.

"That's beautiful," Jenny remarked.

"There...orgom. Commonly known as a meteorite. It's just rocks falling to the ground, that's all..." John explained, but sounded distracted as he was cautiously looking at Renata. She seemed so out of place at the moment, so angry...but why?

"That came down in the woods," Renata whispered, still heard by the others.

"No, no no, they always look close, when actually they're miles off. Nothing left but a cinder," the Doctor stepped over to her side, "Would you like me to escort you home?"

"No," she crossed her arms and stepped away from him.

He couldn't take that kind of attitude, it actually...hurt him. That was weird, in all the time he could remember he never felt so hurt because a woman refused to let him touch her arm.

"I have my children to attend do," Renata studied the man, figuring if he was the Doctor he didn't know at the time. He had used the fob watch and made himself human. She cast a look at Martha, nodding to the place where the light had seemingly fallen too, Martha confused for a second until she realized Renata wanted to go see what it was...with her.

"Jenny, where was that? On the horizon, where the light was headed," Martha asked, her look still on Renata.

"That's by Cooper's Field," Jenny replied.

"I shall bid goodnight," Renata muttered and walked away, leaving John to stare after her.

~0~

"Who are you!?" demanded Renata as she and Martha ran through the woods, "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in 1913!?"

"Me!? Who are you!?" Martha exclaimed, over her fear of Renata, seeing as she wasn't responsible for the green light, "How can you possibly think the Doctor is real? No human, especially in 1913, would accept that so easily!"

"That is none of our concern! I want you and the Doctor out of here, NOW!"

"Oh and what are we gonna do about the green light, hmm?"

"We? There is no 'we' in this. For all I know, you could be responsible for this!" Renata huffed and looked to the side. She didn't actually mean those words of hers, as she remembered the man was a complete madman, even as young, but he would never intentionally hurt someone else.

"If you thought that, then we wouldn't be running together to go see what it was," Martha countering, noticing Renata's sudden silence.

They stopped at the head of the clearing, nothing in sight...

"That was strange, then," Renata took a step forwards, "Nothing there..."

"And that's Cooper's Field?" Martha asked, unsure herself there was nothing there.

"But there was a light...and it did fall..."

Martha turned around, calm and serious, "Miss Cartwright, the Doctor and I mean no harm. I promise you. But we can't leave...not right now."

"I need you to leave," Renata insisted, respecting Martha for the calm attitude she was taking despite the rude way she herself took upon Martha, "And I say that with respect. I don't want you here, especially the Doctor. Just...just go and leave, please."

"Do you know him?" she frowned, had the Doctor left yet another woman after his trail like Rose?

Renata's eyes faltered and for a brief minute she looked down, "...no," Martha eyed her curiously, unsure of her answer, "But I know what he is. He took the fob watch, didn't he?" Martha blinked at the knowledge Renata had, "Yes, he did, didn't he?" Renata shook her head, "What's he running from? Because I doubt he ran from what I ran...he wouldn't have had a human with him."

Martha saw no point in hiding anymore, Renata knew and if she herself wasn't human then she would need to get Renata on their side...so she wouldn't hurt the Doctor, "...there was this Family..." Martha began, "...they wanted the Doctor cos he can live past one life cycle..." Renata nodded, awfully calm, "...but the Doctor said that the lifespan of the Family was limited so if he turned human and we waited for three months, the Family would just die out and he could open the watch after...but he doesn't know he's the Doctor, John Smith believes he's John Smith."

"So you're not here...searching...?"

"Why would we be searching?" Martha frowned, confused as Renata shifted on her feet.

"No reason," Renata cleared her throat, putting her hands on her hips as she thought, "Alright, tell you what, then...I'll keep my mouth shut about all this. And in return, neither you nor 'the Doctor', or John Smith, shall make contact with me or my children. John Smith will only teach Sebastian."

"Yeah, sure," Martha quickly nodded, "And...and you?"

"What about me?"

"You...won't try anything?"

Renata scoffed, "The last thing I wanna do is draw attention to myself or my children. Goodnight, Martha Jones. Sincerely, I wish you and the Doctor can get out of here like you plan."

Martha nodded, watching silently as Renata left. Renata wasn't human, that much she knew. What could she be doing here? Why was she so keen on getting her and the Doctor out of 1913 to leave her...? Why?

~0~

"Mum! Mum, can I get the door?" little Lucy Cartwright trailed after her mother, both of them hearing several knocks on the door to their house.

"No, Lucy, it's far too dangerous," Renata replied calmly, rolling her eyes at her daughter's groan. After the mysterious light of last night, she was going to take extra precaution with her children. She would not lose them too. She opened the door up, genuinely surprised to find John Smith on the other side, "John?" was all she could say.

"Renata, hello...um," the Doctor looked down to the small child behind her.

"What are you doing here?" Renata asked, setting a hand on Lucy's shoulder who only poked her head around her mother's side.

"Uh..." if he had to be honest, he didn't know what he was doing there either. He had allowed Martha to go into the village for some free time and somehow he decided to go to Renata's house. After last night, he just needed to make sure she was alright...not angry anymore. So he asked Martha to pinpoint the blonde's house, excusing it as a simple teacher intervention concerning Sebastian.

"Aren't you Sebastian's teacher?" Lucy broke the silence that fell over the adults, finally coming around her mother, "Is he a bad student? I think he is. He never listens!"

The Doctor smiled at the little girl, he always did have a soft sport for children, "He's very hardworking."

Lucy scoffed, "Yeah right!"

"Uh, Lucy, go with Elena, yeah?" Renata pushed the girl behind her, over to a door on the fa right of the house.

"But muuuum..."

"No, go," Renata pushed her off, the girl huffing and making her way to her nana's room.

"She seems lovely," the Doctor remarked, still awkwardly standing on the front door.

"Yeah, yeah," Renata sighed, "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see if you were alright...truthfully, last night, you alarmed me..."

"Yes, I'm fine, you can go now," she tried closing the door but John placed a hand between and stopped her.

"Can we please talk?"

"Please," Renata closed her eyes for a moment as she gathered her self and courage, "There's nothing to be talked about. It'd be best if you just go. You partly came for the journal, right?"

"No, no..."

"Do you want it back now? I finished it," she left the door and walked over to the kitchen table where the journal was placed on, "Very nice imagination."

"Renata, have I done something wrong?" the Doctor sighed, really disliking the coldness he was receiving from her. It hurt.

"No, everything's fine. I just have some things to do. I was going to to the village in the afternoon and I want to finish my work around the house, first. So, please just...go back to the school..." she handed him back the journal, "I think you should allow Joan to read it. She seemed fascinated by it as well."

"Sure..." John looked at his journal for a second before looking up to Renata's deep, chocolate brown eyes. He smiled warmly, despite Renata's odd attitude with him, those pair remained as warm and loving as ever.

"I must get to work, John," Renata snapped him out of his thoughts, "Please say hello to my son for me."

"Yeah," John nodded, nearly forcing himself to turn away and walk. He didn't know why but he just want to spend some time with the blonde, talk to her...but it actually hurt him that she rejected him.

Renata watched the man walk away, heaving an unexpected sigh. She caught it and shook her head, "What am I doing..." she shook her head again and closed the door, turning around to see Elena, the nana of her daughter and closest friend of hers.

"Well, who was that?" the black-haired woman crossed her arms, a playful smirk on her face.

Elena was middle-aged and also a widow. Her hair was black and fell down her shoulders. Her eyes were a shade of light hazel, her cheekbones a bit pronounced. She lived with Renata and Lucy, and at a time Sebastian, after her husband died. She helped Renata take care of the house and the children, and even handled her own job down at the village. Overall, she was someone Renata trusted above anyone in town...almost with everything.

"Sebastian's teacher," Renata shrugged and walked away.

"And what's he doing over here?" Elena trailed after her.

"Just visiting."

"Why would a teacher visit a student's single, widowed mother? Hmmm..." Elena smirked again.

Renata rolled her eyes, this was the last thing she needed, "Can you go call Lucy? I need help to finish around the house. I have a lot of errands to do in the village."

Elena rolled her eyes, knowing how this would go. There was a nice man who showed interest in Renata, Renata pushed them away in the coldest way possible until the poor man resigned himself and let her go. Then Renata would resume her lonely life, caring only for her children.

That's always how it went.

~0~

The students were lined up in a column, doing target practice directed by John Smith. The headmaster overlooked as well, but from a distance. One of the students seemed to have gotten distracted and caused the partner to get into a state.

"There's a stoppage, immediate action," the angry student, Hutchinson, growled. "Didn't I tell you, sir, this stupid boy is useless!" he regarded over the slightly smaller student beside him. "Permission to give Latimer a beating, Sir?"

"It's your class, Mr Smith," the headmaster gave a casual shrug of his shoulders.

"Permission granted," John said without a second thought.

"Right, come with me, you little oiyk," Hutchinson grabbed Timothy by the wrist and yanked him up to his feet. The rest of the boys followed to 'help'. Baines, one of the few students to remain, took a long sniff and rather loudly.

"Anything the matter, Baines?" John looked him over, concerned for the boy.

"I thought... No sir. Nothing, sir," Baines turned on his feet and went to join the rest of the boys.

"As you were, Mr. Smith," the headmaster said before leaving.

"Ah... Pemberton, Smythe, Wicks, take post," John instructed, three more boys taking the positions.

By chance, John glanced about and spotted Matron Joan watching the gunshots. He bit his lip, thinking of Renata and her odd attitude. Joan and her seemed like good friends, perhaps she could help him...

Then he shook his head, was he really going through all this trouble for a women he barely knew?

Apparently, the answer was yes, because he found himself walking over to Joan.

"Ah, Nurse Redfern," he greeted politely, the woman nodding her greet, "Do you mind...if we talked?"

"About?" though Joan could already half guess the topic of their conversation.

"Your lovely friend, Renata Cartwright."

"Ah, what seems to be the problem?" she had to struggle to keep her smirk hidden. It was quite easy to see John had taken a liking to the blonde.

"I honestly don't know..." John sighed, "...she seems, alarmed. Like she's afraid of something. But I fear she may be upset with me."

"I'm sure you are imagining things, Mr. Smith," though when Joan got to thinking of the way Renata spoke to Martha, she did have to concede on the fact Renata was being a bit odd.

"I stopped by her home, tried to see if maybe I could apologize for whatever it was that I had done..." John blushed as he admitted his bold move, but he felt like he just had to go see Renata.

"And what happened?"

"She handed me my journal and sent me on my way."

"Mr. Smith, Renata hasn't had an easy life. She's an orphan, no parents nor siblings. They all died in some tragic accident. She married and became a widow with two children. Her suitors are limited as she tends to see to her children. Her friends are also very limited because of the bit of fear women have for her."

"Fear? How could they be afraid of such an innocent woman?"

Joan smiled softly, seeing John truly had a genuine affection for Renata, "Renata is quite beautiful, Mr. Smith," she watched his eyes drift to the side, probably thinking of the blonde at the moment, "Any man who's single tends to have a liking for her. The women all believe Renata is the, um...alpha woman," she chuckled to herself, "They fear of the top woman."

"Joan, can I call you Joan?" John asked, hoping to garner the woman's trust. Joan nodded, "Do you think you could help me? I would really like to talk to Renata. I heard she was going to the village later in the afternoon...do you think you could help me find her?"

"Of course," she smiled, "I was also headed for the village, perhaps you could accompany me and I could help find Renata."

"Thank you," John nodded fast, making Joan chuckle at his excitement, "Really, thank you!"

He would talk to Renata again and hopefully make amends for whatever he had done. He didn't know why but he had to continue seeing her, talking to her...he needed to.

~0~

"Mum, can I have a balloon?" Lucy asked her mother as the two walked down a street of the village.

"No, Lucy, what's the point?" Renata sighed, currently holding Lucy's hand while another held fruit for their dinner.

"But please? Mr. Lodge won't mind," Lucy gestured to the elderly man of the bakery shop, a few red balloons strung up front.

Renata sighed, knowing if she didn't abide Lucy would not let it go for quite some time, "Oh alright, but you ask nicely," Lucy nodded and scurried off to go get that red balloon. Renata sighed and looked down at her bag, noticing a few fruit were missing, "That's odd, I thought I bought apples..." she continued walking meanwhile she focused on counting the fruit in her bag.

In another part of the village, John Smith and Joan were walking together, both looking for Renata.

"Just search for a little girl and you'll find Renata," Joan was saying.

"I don't see any children, mind you, although..." John stopped walking at a glimpse of blonde. He leaned forwards, carefully focusing and realizing it was her! She was looking through a bag of some sorts, walking towards a shop building where two men were winching up a piano with a rope...the rope sling currently breaking...

"Where is she?" Joan searched, but John had become distracted, his eyes flickering from Renata to the piano and rope.

Renata was looking through her bag, mumbling to herself whether or not Lucy had snuck an orange or two when she hadn't been looking.

"No!" John snapped from his trance, snatching a cricket ball from a young boy near them and pitching it a bundle of spare scaffolding poles outside the ironmongers. The pole fell and hit a plank of wood with a brick on the end, making the brick fly up to the air over the piano just as the rope snapped and started hurtling towards the ground. The brick hit a milk churn on a cart and sent it falling into the path of Renata.

"What!?" Renata yelped as her feet hit the blocker and fell over, landing head-straight on the ground...the piano just barely missing her as it fell to the ground.

"Renata!" John quickly ran down the hill, Joan hurrying after. When they got near Renata, the two workers were currently trying to help her, but the woman was unconscious.

"Mummy?" Lucy poked her head out from the corner, gasping when she saw Renata on the floor, "Mummy!" she scurried over, on the brink of tears as her mother didn't seem to be waking up.

"It's okay, sweetie, it's okay," Joan took the crying girl into her arms.

John turned Renata's head to face her, the woman still unconscious, "Renata? Renata, wake up!"

"She's bleeding, John," Joan nodded to the top of Renata's head, her blonde hair tainted with a brilliant red, "I can help her, but we need to get to the school. The doctor of the town is away!"

John scooped Renata into his arms, hurriedly heading for the school, Joan following with a crying Lucy at her side.

~0~

"Is she going to be alright?" Lucy asked, her mother still unconscious as Matron Joan cleared up the cut on her head.

Renata was currently in the school's infirmary, Matron Joan working on her while John and Lucy awaited on the sides. Martha walked in, holding a tray of tea for the adults, a small plate of pieces of fruit for little Lucy. She wasn't on the best terms with Renata, but she didn't want her to be hurt either.

"Here you are," Martha set the tray on a small table.

"Are those peaches?" Lucy sniffled, turning to the table, "I like peaches."

Martha smiled, stepping back and allowing the girl to take some, "Go ahead."

"Well, she seems fine," Joan gave her declaration, "But I think we should give her some medication for the head?" she suggested, John immediately nodding. "We'll need to go back into town."

"And on the way, we could drop by Lucy," John glanced at the girl, "I think there was a nana, or someone that could care for her."

"Come around, Lucy," Joan said, gesturing for the girl to follow them.

"Martha, I trust you will watch over Miss Cartwright?" John asked.

Martha nodded, "Of course."

The trio left and Martha heaved a sigh as she moved beside the blonde. She looked around and found the medical bag of Matron Joan. She bit her lip, she really shouldn't...but this was a person in need of a doctor...and she had the obligation to help anyone in need. She picked up a stethoscope inside and put it on, glancing one more time at the doors in case anyone walked in. When she felt confident enough, she placed the stethoscope on Renata's chest, hearing a healthy heartbeat...

...and then she heard more.

With a confused expression, Martha moved the stethoscope to Renata's left side of her chest...

...there was a second heartbeat.

Martha's eyes widened, moving the stethoscope again in case she was imagining it.

There was still another set of heartbeats.

Two.

Martha removed the stethoscope and stared at Renata in utter shock. That's when she noticed Renata was wearing a long necklace hanging to her stomach. It was in the shape of a light green crystal...

~0~

Renata groaned as she came back to life, her eyes slowly opening, "What...what's going on..."

John, who at the last moment preferred to remain in the infirmary room with Renata - deciding Joan could return Lucy home and find the medication afterwards - set down his journal with pen on a table nearby and stood up fast, "It's okay, it's okay," he set a hand on Renata's arm, "Don't try to move so fast."

"What happened?" Renata shut her eyes at the sharp throb she felt on her head.

"You had an accident at the village. Matron Joan and I brought you back to the school."

"Did she check my heartbeat?" Renata immediately sat up.

"Um, no, the injury was on your head," John quickly answered, alarmed something felt wrong in her heart.

"Oh," Renata put a hand on her head and winced, "Yes, I see. And Lucy?" alarmed, she tried getting off the bed too fast and became dizzy.

Before her legs gave out, John caught her by the waist, "Gotcha. And don't worry about Lucy or Sebastian, it's all been taken care of. You just take it easy," he smiled softly at her.

For a moment, Renata met his eyes and felt herself blush at their closeness. When she caught herself, she shook her head and sat back on the bed, swatting away John's hands, "I'm fine, I'm fine," she assured and looked away. She noticed the John's open journal and caught a glimpse of a sketch, "What were you doing?" she grew curious.

"Hm?" John caught her gaze on his journal and stiffened, "Oh, um...I was sort of...well you see..."

Renata gave him a look before reaching over for the journal, unaware of the bright blush John suddenly sported. Renata took a look at the sketch, her eyes half-widening, "Oh..." she started to smile, "...you drew me, it's nice," she looked up at the Doctor, surprising the man how her attitude changed once more.

"Thank you," he let a smile escape his lips. He moved closer to her to see his sketch of her on his journal, "I thought it may serve to help your anger with me...perhaps lower it..."

Renata's smile faded at those words, feeling shame for making him feel at fault of something he probably couldn't even remember. But even if he was himself, he probably would've said it hadn't been completely his fault either and that she was also to blame. Renata looked at him and sighed, "I'm not angry, John. I just don't think we should talk to each other..."

"But why?" John frowned, actually feeling his heart ping at her hurtful words, "What have I done? Tell me so I know how to fix it."

Renata let the journal fall to her lap as she looked at him again, "You've not done anything-"

"Then why do you treat me like this? The first time we met, we talked like friends, normal...happy," he looked down, "...now you barely even want to direct a word to me."

Without thinking, Renata reached to touch his cheek, making him flinch at the contact, "I'm sorry," she whispered, "This is all just...too...new," she supplied the word for 'difficult'. She figured for the human version of the Doctor she had in front of her she could downplay the entire situation.

"New?" John raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit of hope all of a sudden.

If all this arose out of things being too 'new' then it meant he hadn't done anything to anger her. It was simply because she was widowed and thought something between him and her was new for her, seeing as Joan had said that Renata had never actually paid attention to any man's feelings. Now, he didn't know what exactly was going on with him concerning Renata but all he knew was that he didn't want her to be angry with him. He wanted her to be close, to be...with him.

Renata swallowed and nodded, letting him believe it, "I'm not...I'm not used to any of this, so...I'd rather not get further into it."

"Why not? Why don't you let us get to know each other, hmm?" John took her hand from his face and gave it a kiss, stunning Renata and making her blush, "How about you accompany me to the village dance this evening as my guest?" Renata's eyes widened at the proposal, "We can talk, we can get to know each other...?"

Renata looked at their hands that were still interlocked, "I don't..."

"Give me this one opportunity, yeah?" John insisted, even surprising himself on how big his determination was to get the woman to let them be friends.

"She accepts!" a different voice spoke from the doorway, the pair looking over to see Matron Joan standing with a cheery smile, "Renata most definitely accepts, John," she hurried on up.

"I...but I didn't," Renata began to say but Joan had other ideas.

"She's been talking nonstop of that dance," Joan continued, putting down the bag of medicine she brought back from the town. "I can guarantee she'll be more than happy to accompany you."

"Really?" John looked at Renata with so much hope it made Renata feel like she'd be a monster for saying no.

"Sure," she finally said, her voice a whisper.

John smiled from ear to ear, feeling like his heart was about to burst within his chest, and though that was something new he didn't pay attention to it because Renata had accepted his invitation, "Great, very, very great," he reached for Renata's hand and kissed its back, "Tonight, then..."

"I'll drop her off with you," Joan offered, nearly giving herself her own applause at what she managed to do. Renata had never accepted any sort of invitation from a man, not even a simple conversation! Now she had made Renata accept an invitation for a dance with a man who genuinely seem to like her.

"You will?" Renata looked at her for that one, she'd like to see her children first.

"Of course," Joan laughed, "How's about seven, John?"

"Perfect," he nodded as he looked at Renata, "Is that alright with you?"

She sighed and nodded, "Yeah," there was no way back from that one anymore. She'd have to go with it and hopefully not get into trouble this one time...

~ 0 ~

Martha Jones was inside the TARDIS, frantically going through the Doctor's pre-recorded video he'd left for her before turning human. He left her all sorts of messages and warnings, ridiculous things as was his style. She kept searching and searching through the video, hoping there was one bit she had perhaps missed about...women.

But in the end, she came up with nothing and stopped the video, heaving a heavy sigh, "This is no good. What about the stuff you didn't tell me, what about women? Oh no, you didn't think of that. What in hell am I supposed to do then? Huh?" she paused and took a long breath, "Another Time Lord...bet you didn't think of that one, hm?" she frowned, "Another Time Lord hiding in the 1913...what am I supposed to do now?"

The near shut-down TARDIS gave a hum that Martha guessed was a cheerful one...for a box, anyways. She looked around, "What do I do?" she called, expecting some sort of sign from the box. She knew the Doctor had put it on some sort of emergency setting, the box was still powered on but no real abilities were in its reach at the moment, "What do I do? Do I...bring her here? Do I tell the Doctor about this...granted, by the way he's taken a liking to her I think he'll figure it out pretty soon," she muttered, not too pleased with that fact. Of course, out of all the women the Doctor could've fallen for he had to go and find a miracle, another Time Lord, to be with.

Question was, though, why did Renata want them to leave without her?

~ 0 ~

"I cannot believe you're making me do this," Renata huffed as Joan went through her wardrobe inside her room.

"Oh do calm down, it's not the end of the world," Joan absently remarked while she pulled out a dress, checking Renata to see if it would fit.

Joan had brought Renata to her room in order to get ready for the dance that night. Joan knew that if she let Renata out of her sight the blonde could possibly break things in the form of an excuse like a head ache or something.

"I should be with my children," Renata stood up from the chair she had been sitting in.

"I brought Sebastian back to the house with Elena to look after Lucy," Joan reminded, "I assured all three that you would be fine but that you would be a bit late for supper tonight."

"This isn't right," Renata shook her head, catching a glimpse of the new dress Joan had taken out.

"And why not?" Joan turned around, holding her dress out for Renata to check.

Renata eyed the dark purple dress with a sigh, "I can't..."

"I understand, believe me, I'm also widowed, remember?" Joan went to set the dress on her bed, "It's hard to get over your husband's death, but it's been years for you now."

"It's been some time for you too you know," Renata crossed her arms.

"Yes, but I'm not the one avoiding nearly every man that walks in your direction," Joan countered, "I think it's about time you took a chance."

"A chance," Renata quietly repeated, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, turning away from Joan as she thought of the last time she was told to take a 'chance', "I'm not good with chances..."

"Then let me help," Joan reached for Renata's hand and brought her to the dress she had picked out for the blonde, "This can be a very lovely night for you. John seems very nice, a bit distant and distracted sometimes but nonetheless harmless. Plus, it's no secret he's rather handsome," she chuckled when she noticed Renata blushing with an almost ashamed face, "That's what I thought. So," she clapped her hands, "How's about we get you ready?"

With nothing else to do, Renata nodded and allowed Joan to help her get ready for the night.

~ 0 ~

At seven o'clock Renata had promptly showed up in John's room to attend the village dance, and if she admitted to anyone she would say was more than nervous of this whole plan. She didn't want to be there, she shouldn't be there...she should stay away from the Doctor and his companion, she should remain in hiding and wait for them to leave and never come back. She should do that...she should...so why couldn't she make her feet walk out of the Doctor's room?

"You look wonderful," John remarked, feeling his breath leave him at the sight of Renata in her gown.

Renata did her best not to show her blush, "Thank you," she politely said. She looked around the room as her blush faded, noticing something missing over the fireplace.

"Shall we get going, then?" John saw her getting quiet and that was something he was determined not to let happen at all for the night.

"Yes," Renata nodded, allowing him to link arms with her.

However, as they went for the door, Martha burst inside with a heavy breath as if she'd been running for hours, "They've found us!" Renata stiffened, though John didn't seem to notice it.

"Martha," he began in his scolding tone.

"They've found us, and I've seen them- they look like people, like us, like normal," Martha went straight up to Renata, the blonde growing more and more nervous, "I don't know what to do except make him open the watch!" she figured if the Doctor wasn't around then the next best thing would be the second Time Lord around...Renata.

"I...I don't..." Renata looked at John with wide eyes, her breathing picking up as she thought of the many ways she could be caught by him and the enemy.

John misunderstood her emotions for that of a fearful woman being attacked by his maid, "Martha! This is ridiculous!"

"Oh my god, where's it gone?" Martha had noticed the gob watch was missing on the mantle piece, "Where's the watch?"

"What are you talking about?" John pulled her away from the mantle and Renata.

"You had a watch, a fob watch. Right there!"

"Did I? I don't remember."

"But we need it..." Martha was in full-blown franticness, "Oh my god, Doctor we're hiding from aliens, and they've got Jenny and they've... possessed her or copied her or something and you've got to tell me, where's the watch?"

"Martha..." Renata swallowed hard.

"Cultural differences," John shook his head and went over to a desk where his journal was, "It must be so confusing for you. Martha, this is what we call a story," he returned and waved the journal.

"Oh you complete..." Martha rolled her eyes, "This," she pointed at him, "is not you. This is nineteen thirteen!"

"Good," John slowly said as he nodded, "This is nineteen thirteen."

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry but I've got to snap you out of this," she took a breath before she slapped him hard across the face.

Stunned, Renata looked between the pair with wide eyes, "Oh my Lord," she covered her mouth.

"Wake up! You're coming back to the TARDIS with me!" Martha exclaimed as she took John's arm and tugged him towards the door.

"How dare you!?" he angrily shouted, "I'm not going anywhere with an insane servant! Martha, you are dismissed, you will leave these premises immediately. Now get out!" he used the grip she had on his arm and dragged her to the door, throwing her out and shutting the door.

Renata felt bad for the woman, even if she wasn't really friends with Martha. She could only assume the Doctor had placed Martha as his caretaker while he was human. Heaven knows the job of looking after him is terrible and nerve-wrecking...and a total nightmare. For that same reason, Renata had turned to the mantelpiece to search for the missing fob watch, hoping Martha had just missed it and was it hiding underneath other objects.

"Renata, you don't have to clean up after that insane servant," John came over and took the blonde away.

"Clean up?" Renata blinked as the excuse settled in her mind, "Right, clean up..." she looked at the mantle-piece with concern as she now knew that the fob watch was indeed missing.

"I'm terribly sorry for this," John sighed, "There goes my attempt to make this a good night for you."

Renata stopped and looked at him with a small smile, touched he was trying so hard for someone who didn't even deserve it, "I think you're doing fine, poor Martha just had a bad dream or something..."

"What ever the case is, she is completely fired," he shook his head, doing his best to keep his anger down as this was an important night for him. He instead linked arms with Renata and led her to the doors, determined to give her that good night that would hopefully lead to some type of friendship and maybe more.

~ 0 ~

Once at the dance, Renata took a look at the room in hopes of finding Martha again. She knew for sure Martha would be making some type of reappearance to get the Doctor to believe her. She just wished Martha would come to her first so she could help and keep her out of trouble, although if Martha was the companion of the Doctor she was sure Martha was more than used to the trouble that came with the Doctor.

"Would you care for a dance?" John brought her out of her thoughts, making her see he was holding a hand for her with a very sheepish smile on his face.

"Of course," Renata wasn't entirely sure it would lead to something good. She really shouldn't be doing any of this...and yet there she was. As the music started, the pair started to dance, "You can dance," Renata blurted without thought, quietly gasping afterwards. Oh, she really needed to learn how to keep her mouth shut.

"I surprised myself," John chuckled, of course as if fate was against him they crashed into another dancing pair, "Sorry," he apologized quietly, embarrassed, but then saw Renata smiling at him and suddenly nothing was wrong anymore.

After dancing a couple of songs, Renata wished for a break and so they found themselves a table. While John excused himself for some drinks for them, Martha reappeared. She marched up to Renata, looking none too pleased. "Well, you sure seem comfortable," she plopped down across the table.

Renata sighed, "It's not my fault you went insane earlier. There were plenty more options before you had to go all frantic."

"Well, I only went frantic because the one person who was supposed to be helping me was going on a date with the man she said she wanted nothing to do with," Martha sourly spat.

"I'm only here because my friend made me," Renata leaned on the table.

Martha scoffed, "Oh, please."

"It's not my fault you're in love with him and he's not in love with you," Renata snapped and made Martha go silent, "Do you know how hard I worked on this stupid perception filter?" she gestured the necklace around her neck, "I made this just so the Doctor wouldn't find me nor sense me as a Time Lady. I even went back in time to a boring ole year so that he wouldn't ever find me. Do you honestly think I'm happy right now?"

Martha was silent as she studied the blonde woman, having to admit that she really didn't look very happy at the moment. But something in Renata's eyes told her that deep down there was something Renata wasn't telling her, something important that concerned the Doctor.

"I checked the mantle-piece and you're right, it's missing," Renata continued with a small sigh, "Someone took the watch and since the aliens searching for you just tried attacking you, I'm gonna go on a limb and say one of the humans has it."

"But who?" Martha questioned as she looked around, unable to think of anyone who'd want a teacher's fob watch.

"Oh, now really, Martha. This is getting out of hand," John had returned with the drinks for him and Renata in hand, "I must insist that you leave."

Martha stood up and held out his sonic screwdriver, "Do you know what this is?" she questioned, waving it at him, "Name it. Go on, name it."

Renata quietly stood up and took the drinks from his hands, placing it on the table, "You wrote about it..." she tried to discreetly help Martha without being caught.

"You're not John Smith. You're called the Doctor. The man in your journal, he's real. He's you," Martha watched John as he took the screwdriver and turned it around, intently studying it.

A middle-aged man, Clarke, entered the room with a gun in hand as he knocked over a hat stand, making people panic and move away, "There will be silence! All of you!" he ordered as the scarecrows filed in after Baines and Jenny, "I said silence!"

The trio turned around to see the dancefloor overtaken by the scarecrows and the humans-possessed-by-aliens. The announcer of the dance walked up to Clarke, "Mr Clarke! What's going on?" the answer was the gunfire he received, dissolving into nothing.

"Mr Smith, everything I told you, just forget it! Don't say anything," Martha snatched the screwdriver from him and put it away.

"We asked for silence! Now then," Baines turned to face the trio, "We have a few questions for Mr Smith."

"No, better than that," a little voice, very familiar, strode through the crowds of people with her red balloon tied to her wrist, "The teacher. He's the Doctor. I heard them talking."

Renata stumbled back, nearly falling if John hadn't caught her, "L-Lucy..." her eyes widened, "...what are...what's..." she glared at the others, "What did you do to my daughter?"

"All gone," little Lucy tilted her head, "I took the body, don't you see?" she opened her arms.

Renata covered her mouth and stifled a shriek of horror, "N-no! NO!"

"You took human form," Baines observed John who was tending to the trembling blonde he had in his arms.

"Of course I'm human, I was born human!" John spared him a glance as he tried calming Renata, "As were you, Baines. And Jenny, and you, Mr Clarke! What is going on, this is madness!"

"And a human brain, too! Simple, thick and dull. "

"He's no good like this," Jenny frowned.

"We need a Time Lord," Clarke stepped forwards.

"Easily done," Baines raised his gun and aimed it at John, the crowd gasping at the action, "Change back," he ordered.

John stepped in front of Renata and frowned, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I literally do not know-"

Jenny snatched Martha from the side and held a gun to her head, making Martha scream and try to wiggle out of the grip on her, "Get off me!"

"Leave her alone," Renata stepped around John, her eyes locked on Lucy, "Leave everyone alone, don't you get it? There's no...Time Lords around," she had to be cautious with what she was saying. One word and she could release her true identity to them all.

"She's your friend, isn't she?" Jenny ignored the orders of the blonde and looked at John, "Doesn't this scare you enough to change back? "

"I don't know what you mean!" John shouted frantically as he thought of some way to help Martha. Even if she'd been fired he didn't want her to be harmed, and much less because of him.

"Take her," suddenly, Lucy had pointed to Renata, "That old nanny was so excited about my 'mummy' going to the dance with Mr. Smith..." she smirked.

"Lucy," Renata tried reaching for her, her head jumbled when it came to her surrogate-daughter, "Please...stop this."

"Renata, no!" John reached for her but was too late, Clarke had snatched her away.

"Get off me!" Renata angrily ordered.

"Have you enjoyed it, Doctor? Being human?" Clarke smirked as he held the gun to Renata's head, "Has it taught you wonderful things, are you better, richer, wiser? Then let's see you answer this. Which one of them do you want us to kill? Maid or Mother? Your friend - or your lover? Your choice."

"Make you decision, Mr Smith," Jenny urged as the man had fallen silent.

"Perhaps if that human heart breaks, the Time Lord will emerge," Baines added, lowering his gun from John a moment.

"ENOUGH!" Renata screamed and swiftly elbowed Clarke in the stomach, jabbing her elbow with all her Time Lady strength, and stole the gun from his hand, "Put down the guns, all of you," she aimed it at Jenny.

"Time Lord..." they heard the hushed voice from across the room.

"It's him!" Baines turned and scanned the area from which the voice had come through, enough of a distraction for Renata to snatch his gun as well.

Both guns were now aimed on Jenny, a look of fury in Renata's eyes, "Let her go, right now, or I shoot," she warned.

"Renata..." John was stunned to see an entirely new side of her.

"Oh, the mother is full of fire," Baines smirked.

Renata moved one of the guns and fired on the floor next to his right foot, making everyone shriek and Baines jump to the side, "Want to comment again, school boy? Don't forget in what body you stand in," she snapped, and aimed the other gun at Jenny again, "Don't forget where you all stand," she looked at the entire group, "You need those bodies to survive and if I happen to shoot at one of your pesky little hearts then it's game over. Put. The. Gun. Down," she gritted her teeth and narrowed her eyes at Jenny, "Or I will shoot all of you dead, and don't think I wouldn't."

Jenny looked at the others who gave her a small nod. She finally lowered the gun and let Martha go, the woman scurrying back to the Doctor. Renata kept the guns on each side of the group, never looking at Jenny or she'd lose that boldness.

"Doctor, get everyone out. There's a door at the side," Martha urged the Doctor to start moving but he was frozen as he stared at Renata, "It's over there. Go on!"

"Do it, John!" Renata joined, "I mean you!"

"Do what she said. Everybody out now," came Matron Joan from the crowd as she motioned for some of the people to begin moving, her eyes also locked on Renata, a new person for her in reality, "Don't argue, Mr. Jackson. They're mad. That's all we need to know. Susan, Miss Cooper, outside, all of you!"

"Move yourself, boy. Back to the school, quickly," John finally started to move.

"Miss Cartwright, you as well," Martha quietly said, knowing the Doctor would never forgive her if she allowed another of his kind to get killed on her watch.

"Get out, right now!" Renata shouted as she gave the other, making Martha flinch, "All of you, NOW!"

Martha then quickly hurried John and Joan out of the room, glancing back at the blonde one last time before heading out herself. When alone, Renata lowered the guns, "You killed my daughter, where is my son and my friend?"

"Must you ask?" Lucy shook her head, "Stupid, just like all the other humans..."

Renata gave a small cry, her eyes tearing up, "I lost again..." she whispered, "...my baby," she shook her heads, "Oh, my Lucy...I am so sorry..." she backed away, letting the guns drop on the floor as she hurried out of the room.

She ran out of the building to see John, Martha and Joan standing there, as if waiting for her, "What the hell are you still doing here?" she stopped in front of Martha, "I gave an order-"

"I wasn't going to leave without you," John cut her off and moved up to her, still in awe of the whole matter, "What was all that?" he gestured to the building, "You and the..."

"I had a husband," Renata made the excuse that popped into her head first, "Of course I learned to defend myself, now run!" she took his hand and ran back towards the school, Martha and Joan going after them.

Breathless, the group arrived at the school where John immediately closed the wooden doors and hurried to the front hall and rang a bell, waking up the entire place.

"What're you doing?" Martha's eyes widened as she heard the nearing footsteps of the students.

"Maybe one man can't fight them, but this school teaches us to stand together," he declared, "Take arms! Take arms!"

"You can't do that!"

"You want me to fight, don't you? Take arms! Take arms!"

"I say sir, what's the matter?" one of the students, Hutchinson, stopped by John, still sleepy.

"Enemy at the door, Hutchinson. Enemy at the door. Take arms!"

Renata and Martha watched as the students began loading machine guns and several other weapons. Renata racked her head for anything she could do to help and keep the boys away from the enemies but she had nothing, really...nothing. There was an old vortex manipulator she hid but the thing was so wonky it shorted out the moment she attempted to use it. She doubted it would work now.

"You can't do this, Doctor. Mr. Smith!" Martha was following John around frantically.

"Maintain position over the stable yard," he was ordering one of the nearby students.

"They're just boys! You can't ask them to fight!"

"Faster now! That's it," John hurried for the boy off.

"They don't stand a chance!"

"They're cadets, Miss Jones," John paused a moment to explain the obvious, "They are trained to defend the King and all his properties."

"What in thunder's name is this?" the headmaster had arrived, very irritated for all the commotion, "Before I devise an excellent and endless series of punishments for each and every one of you, could someone explain very simply and immediately exactly what is going on?"

"Headmaster, I have to report the school is under attack," John moved over to the man.

"Really? Is that so? Perhaps you and I should have a word in private."

"I promise you, sir. I was in the village with Mrs. Cartwright. It's Baines, sir. Jeremy Baines and Mr. Clark from Oakham Farm. They've gone mad, sir. They've got guns. They've already murdered people in the village. I saw it happen."

"Mrs. Cartwright, is that so?" the headmaster glanced at the silent blonde.

"Um..." Renata blinked, "...yes, I'm afraid so..."

"Murder on our own soil?"

"Yes," Renata closed her eyes as more tears threatened to spill, just thinking about the triple losses she now had on her arms.

"Perhaps you did well then, Mr. Smith," the headmaster acknowledged, "What makes you thing the danger's coming here?"

"Well, sir, they said, um..." John couldn't find the right words.

"Baines threatened Mr. Smith, sir. Um, said he'd follow him," Matron Joan entered the place now wearing her uniform, "We don't know why."

"Very well," the headmaster nodded and turned to the nearby students, "You boys, remain on guard. Mr. Snell, telephone the police. Mr. Philips, with me. We shall investigate."

Martha stepped in front of the headmaster before he got any further, "No, it's not safe out there."

"Mr. Smith, it seems your favorite servant is giving me advice. You will control her, sir," the headmaster snapped and left.

Martha sighed, casting a glare at Renata for allowing this to happen, "I've gotta find that watch," she hurried out of the room.

~ 0 ~

With a murder happening in front of the headmaster, all war was declared on Baines and the others. Renata felt completely useless as she saw all the boys gathering up the weapons and setting positions for them. It was all to bloody and war-like, just like the Time War...and she wanted no memory of that period. But then she kept thinking about the loss she now had, a loss much too familiar like the ones in the war.

"Renata, Matron," John walked up to the two women, knowing Joan was trying to comfort Renata for the loss of her children, "It's not safe here, for either of you."

"I'm here for my responsibilities," Joan gestured to her uniform, "And you can't exactly send Renata out there on her own, can you?"

"Of course not," John took Renata by the hands and moved her away from Joan, taking a deep sigh before he spoke, "Renata, I'm really sor-"

"Don't," she cut him off with teary eyes, "Please don't."

"This is not the evening I was hoping to have with you," he admitted earnestly, pushing a strand of her blonde hair from her face.

"Believe me, it's not the one I was envisioning either," she shook her head, "But what's happened has happened, and now we have to find that stupid watch."

"Oh, come now, don't tell me you believe that," John frowned, "I'm not...I'm not that Doctor, Martha assures me to be."

"Yeah?" Renata raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly how the Chameleon arch worked, "So then tell me where you grew up in, hm?"

"Nottingham?"

"Yeah, tell me about it," Renata crossed her arms, knowing all she would hear were facts.

"Well, it lies on the River Leen, its southern boundary following the course of the River Trent which flows from Stoke to the Humber."

"Do you hear yourself? That's like an encyclopedia. Where did you live?"

"Broadmoor Street, adjacent to Hotley Terrace in the district of Radford Parade."

Renata sighed and let her arms hang loose on her sides, "Don't you see? You're an intelligent man, you know Martha is saying the truth. When you were a child, where did you play? All those secret little places...dens and hideaways that only a child knows? I challenge you to tell me all that..." but of course, no answer could be given.

"How can you think that I'm not real? Do you dislike me this much?"

"I don't hate you, I told you that," Renata took his hands and gripped them, "I'm just...looking into the facts before me, and they all concur..."

"But this Doctor sounds like some...some romantic lost prince. Would you rather that?"

"I'm not really into the whole fairy tales," Renata bitterly laughed, "Believe me, if you knew my story it'd be that of the cursed ones."

"There's not time for this," John sighed, "I've got to go."

"N-n-n-no, hold on," Renata latched onto his hands again before he could leave, "I read your journal, and if there's one thing you and the Doctor would agree on is that the children shouldn't be fighting. You know it's wrong..."

"Mr. Smith, if you please!" they heard the headmaster call from outside.

"What choice do I have?" John gripped her hands, swallowing hard.

"Someone told me, a long time ago, that we always have a choice," Renata bit her lip, "And believe me when I say I regret not making that choice. Don't do the same mistake I did...do what your heart is telling you to," she let go of his hands and stepped back.

John couldn't understand where those words were coming from. He let go of her hands, replaying the words in his mind as he hurried out to join the others. Renata closed her eyes to release more tears.

"I do regret it," she whispered to herself with the broken voice of a broken woman.

~ 0 ~

"Stand to!" the headmaster gave the order as the scarecrows pounded on the door ahead of them. The boys, including John, were set up with aimed guns at the door in the school's courtyard, "At post!"

"Enemy approaching, sir," a boy announced.

"Steady! Find the biting point," the headmaster ordered just as the wood bar on the gate cracked apart and let the scarecrows file in, "Fire!"

Everyone, except John, fired at the scarecrows, making them go down like a pack of dominoes. John could not find it in himself to move his fingers and begin to shoot. Renata's words continued to replay in his mind over and over. Right now...his heart was telling him to get all those boys out of danger and the guns.

"Cease fire!" the headmaster walked to the bodies and checked them, coming to a shocking revelation, "They're straw. Like he said. Straw!"

"The no one's dead, sir?" Hutchinson asked John, sounding relieved, "We killed no one?"

"Stand to!" the headmaster returned to the barrage where the gun's were as the sound of footsteps neared the gate.

From inside the building, Renata felt her blood go cold as she saw Lucy coming inside, skipping with her red balloon. She dashed off to the doors, ignoring the calls from Martha and Joan.

The headmaster recognized Lucy and quickly moved for the girl, "Lucy, come out of the way. Come into the school. You don't know who's out there. Where is your mother? And brother? Come here. Come to me."

"Headmaster, stay away from her!" Renata ran out into the courtyard, "Don't go near her."

"What in God's name are you saying, woman?" the headmaster glared at her, "This is your daughter!"

"She was my daughter," Renata swallowed as she glanced at the girl, "My Lucy is gone...some sort of entity has taken her body over. That's not my daughter anymore. John," she looked over at him for some help.

"She was-she was with-with Baines in the village," he still stuttered to speak easily.

"Mr. Smith, I've seen many strange sights this night but there is no cause on God's earth that would allow me to see this child in the field of battle, sir," the headmaster glared at Renata, "And you, I'll have the authorities on you after this," he held a hand for Lucy, "Come with me."

"You're funny," Lucy chuckled.

"That's right. Now take my hand."

"So funny," Lucy's innocent tone disappeared as she pulled out a gun from her coat and shot the headmaster dead, "Now who's going to shoot me - any of you, really?" she eyed the boys and even Renata with a smirk.

"Put down your guns," John ordered the students, eyeing the swaying gun Lucy held .

"But sir, the Headmaster-" Hutchinson began to protest.

"I'll not see this happen. Not anymore," John declared and started to motion for them to go, "You will retreat...in an orderly fashion back through the school. Hutchinson, lead the way."

"But sir-"

"I said, lead the way."

"Lucy..." Renata tried going for her when Martha reached out and pulled her back.

"She's gone," Martha reminded the blonde, "Now let's go!" along with Joan, they pulled Renata away and started to run off.

Together, now with John, they helped the boys escape through the school stables. Once they finished, John kept insisting for the women to leave while he scavenged the school for any remaining boys. However, a dozen scarecrows intervened such search and made the entire group run off again. As they hurried through the outskirts of the woods nearby the school, they were able to hear Clarke calling out, "Doctor! Doctor!" the group stopped and looked through some bushes to see the Family with the TARDIS in possession, "Come back, Doctor. Come home. Come and claim your prize."

"Out you come, Doctor!" Baines joined the calls, "There's a good boy. Come to the Family."

"Time to end it now!" Jenny added with a laughter.

Martha glanced at John to see him staring at the blue box, "You recognize it, don't you?"

"I've never seen it in my life," he quickly declared.

"Do you remember its name?"

"You wrote about it," Renata added quietly, "I saw it, even Joan saw it," she looked at her friend who nodded in agreement, "The blue box. You dreamt of a blue box."

"I'm not-I'm John Smith. That's all I want to be," John's voice broke as he looked between them all, "John Smith, with his life...and his job...and his conquest for love," he ended quietly with a gaze on Renata, "Why can't I be John Smith? Isn't he a good man?""

"I'm sure he is," Renata began, only hurting him more without realizing.

"Why can't I stay?" he pleaded with teary eyes.

"Because we need the Doctor," Martha sighed in frustration.

"So what am I then, nothing? I'm just a story," before he could break down he ran off.

Renata bot her lip and looked between the Family and John, "You know...I could give myself up," she announced, "They won't care what Time Lord comes up, as long as it's just one."

"Renata, you're speaking like..." Joan blinked, receiving a look from Renata that made her gasp, "...you're not...no..."

"Surprise, I'm an alien too," Renata sighed, "Just please don't mention it to anyone."

"Renata, you know you can't do it," Martha earnestly looked at her, "It'll be chaos."

"I know," Renata muttered as she got up and ran after John.

Eventually, with no other place to go, Renata had to suck it up and face her fear...return home where she knew no one was waiting for her anymore. Her hand trembled as she pushed the door of the house, the door already been left opened by 'Lucy' she assumed.

"Renata, are you sure...?" John cautiously followed her in, knowing this would be a difficult moment for her.

"No, but it's the only option left," she swallowed hard as she looked around the dark, empty room, "Empty," her eyes teared up, "Elena...Sebastian, gone," she moved to the table where a teapot was placed in the center. She put a hand on it and closed her eyes as she felt the prickly coldness on her skin, "Stone cold..." she whispered, "...it's been quite some hours, then."

John couldn't take what he was seeing, "Renata..." he moved up to her and took her away from the table, "...I'm sorry," he hugged her tightly as she sniffled, "I'm really sorry for this," he swallowed hard and glanced at Martha and Joan, both watching them sadly, "I must go to them before anyone else dies."

"No, you can't," Renata quickly looked up before he even moved, "Not without that watch, you don't leave this house without that watch, do you understand?" she spoke fast with a trembling voice. She would not lose anyone else, especially not him.

"You're this Doctor's companion! Can't you help?" the Doctor asked Martha, "What exactly do you do for him? Why does he need you?"

"Because he's lonely..." Martha answered, her eyes drifting over to Renata, knowing that when/if the Doctor were to find out who Renata really was her tenure in the TARDIS would surely be over.

"And that's what you want me to become, then?" John frowned at her, unconsciously holding Renata tighter, the blonde not making a single effort to move away from him.

There was a knock on the door that startled everyone and as Martha went to answer it, Joan moved to follow, "What if it's them?"

"I'm not an expert, but I don't think scarecrows knock," Martha shot a small smile then opened the door to find young Timothy Latimer on the other side.

"I brought you this," he held out the fob watch to Martha, everyone then hearing a whisper from the watch calling out to the companion.

Martha snatched the watch and hurried to the Doctor, holding it out for him, "Hold it," she ordered.

"I won't," he backed away with Renata.

"Please, just hold it."

Timothy entered the house and closed the door before moving up with Martha, "It told me to find you. It wants to be held."

"You've had this watch all this time? Why didn't you return it?" Joan crossed her arms and gave the boy a scolding look, "It's important and you knew it."

"Because it was waiting. And because I was scared of the Doctor."

"Why?" Renata suddenly spoke up, frowning at the statement.

"Because...I've seen him. He's...like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun..."

"Stop it," John looked at the boy in horror.

But Timothy continued, a small smile spreading on his face, "He's ancient and forever. He burns at the center of time and he can see the turn of the universe."

"Stop! I said stop it."

"And he's wonderful."

The group stumbled on their feet with an explosion they heard from a distance. Afterwards, they ran to the windows to see meteorites falling to the ground.

"They're destroying the village," Joan gasped.

"Watch..." John looked down at the watch he held.

"Come closer," the watch whispered.

"Can you hear it?" Timothy wondered honestly.

"Closer. Closer."

"I think he's asleep..." John mumbled, growing distant, "Waiting to awaken."

"Why did he speak to me?" Timothy asked.

"Oh, low-level telepathic field. You were born with it," Renata was stunned to hear John talking in such a different voice, and yet one she knew just suited him so well, "Just an extra synaptic engram causing-" John was able to stop and take a deep gasp, returning to the human voice, "Is that how he talks?" he asked with terrible fear in his voice.

"That's him!" Martha exclaimed happily, "All you have to do is open it and he's back."

"You knew this all along and yet you watched while I..." John looked at Renata, unable to finish. She'd finally stepped away from him and turned for the window, staring out in pure silence.

"I didn't know how to stop you!" Martha rubbed the side of her head, frustrated, "He gave me a list of things to watch out for but that wasn't included."

"Women? Women weren't included?" John shook his head, "A conquest for love?"

"No."

"Then what sort of man is that? And now you expect me to die?"

Several more explosions continued on outside, rocking the house along with the others. Martha sighed and stepped up, "It was always going to end, though! The Doctor said the Family's got a limited lifespan. That's why they need to consume a Time Lord. Otherwise, three months and they die. Like mayflies, he said."

"So your job was to execute me, even better," John frowned.

"People are dying out there! They need him and I need him," Martha gestured to herself, "'Cause you've got no idea of what he's like. I've only just met him. It wasn't even that long ago, but he is everything...he's just everything to me and he doesn't even look at me, but I don't care...'cause I love him to bits. And I hope to God he won't remember me saying this."

"Yeah, you'll be sadly mistaken," Renata mumbled underneath her breath, only heard by Joan who was beside her.

"I should have thought of it before - I can give them this," John held the watch for Martha, "Just the watch. Then they can leave and I can stay as I am!"

"You can't do that," Renata turned around with a resigned expression on her face, "These aliens are dangerous and if they wanted an unlimited lifespan I can assume it won't be for good intentions. It would end in pure destruction...war," her voice cut off after the word and took a moment to be able to speak again, "War across the stars...for every child," she sighed and looked at Martha, "Leave, I need a moment with him."

Martha frowned at the tone of the blonde but figured if anyone could make John open the watch it would be her. She took Timothy and with Joan walked out the door. Renata felt awful for putting John on the spot like this, so when he broke down she took him into a hug. This time, she would be there for him.

~ 0 ~

A couple minutes later, Renata and John sat in front of a window, side by side, with John holding the watch in his hand. Renata was unsure if she should just go herself and deal with the aliens, but if she did that and the watch was ultimately opened, she would reveal her true identity. And if she didn't do something, then the aliens were sure to destroy the entire village.

"He won't feel the same way about you," John spoke in a quiet tone, snapping Renata out of her thoughts.

She looked at him with genuine wonder, "And what exactly do you feel for me right now?" she challenged.

"I can't explain it," he shrugged, a small smile spreading on his face, "You're a conquest, my conquest, for love. I've been here for two months and I spent it in dreams and whatnot, and then I meet you, and...suddenly I want to get to know you, I want to spend time with you...see where things could lead to."

"You got all that from two days?" Renata raised her eyebrows, not as surprised as she should've been.

"Yeah, I did," he came to terms with it with a bright smile, "You're very beautiful, and a bit stubborn..."

Renata looked down with a small smile, "An old friend once said the same thing," she admitted.

"And what did you say back?"

She looked at him, her smile spreading, "Shut up," they both chuckled afterwards.

"I...don't know what to do," John held the watch for her, growing serious once again.

"Your decision should be independent of what you 'feel' for me," Renata held quotation marks with her fingers, "Because I would never be with you," she knew those were harsh words she was uttering but she had to say, now if she could just mean them...

"...what?" John frowned, standing up and looking at her incredibly.

Renata sighed and looked up at him, "You heard me, didn't you? I can't be with you, I won't. So, you might as well open that watch," she gestured to his hand, "Because Doctor or no Doctor, I won't be with you. Ever," she looked away in hopes that after hearing those words he would do what was right without a regret.

And he would leave without ever looking back.

~ 0 ~

John stumbled into the ship of the Family holding out the fob watch in his hand, "Just..." he slipped and leaned against the wall, accidentally pushing several buttons, "Just stop the bombardment. That's all I'm asking. I'll do anything you want, just stop."

"Say please," Baines ordered.

"Please," John obeyed.

Jenny turned on a switch nearby and the ship hissed in respond, "Wait a minute," she took a deep inhale and frowned, "Still human."

"Now I can't - I can't pretend to understand, not for a second, but I want you to know that I'm innocent in all this," John fumbled and hit more buttons on the wall, "He made me John Smith. It's not like I had any control over it!"

"He didn't just make himself human, he made himself an idiot," Jenny rolled her eyes.

"Same thing, isn't it?" Baines smirked.

"I don't care about this Doctor and your family, I just want you to go. So, I've made my choice," John waved the watch for them, "You can have him. Just take it, please! Take him away."

"At last," Baines snatched the watch and gazed at it, his other hand grabbing John by the lapels, "Don't think that saved your life," he pushed the man away and laughed as he fell against the wall, never noticing more buttons had been pushed, "Family of mine, now we shall have the lives of a Time Lord," he opened the watch and with his family deeply breathed...only to realize, "It's empty!"

"Well, where's it gone?" John stood up.

"You tell me," Baines chucked the watch at him.

The Doctor caught it single-handedly and took a breath, speaking normally for him again, "Oh, I think the explanation might be you've been fooled by a simple olfactory misdirection-little bit like ventriloquism of the nose. It's an elementary trick in certain parts of the galaxy. But it has got to be said..." he slipped on his black-rimmed glasses on and looked at the walls full of buttons and controls, "I don't like the looks of that hydroconometre. It seems to be indicating you've got energy feedback all the way through the retrostabilisers feeding back into the primary heat converter-ah," he glanced at them with a hiss, "'Cause if there's one thing you shouldn't have done, you shouldn't have let me press all those buttons. But, in fairness, I will give you one word of advice: run!"

And so everyone did...but after the exploding ship there was an angry Time Lord to deal with.

~ 0 ~

Renata was sat on the couch with a stained face of tears, both her legs propped up with her arms over her knees. She was staring out the window to the eerie silent village across. She'd just finished sending Joan back with the promise she would eventually show up the next day to help with cleanups and explanations. She heard footsteps and the door opening, knowing there was only one person left that would return after everything.

"What did you do with her?" she gathered the courage to ask, though she still couldn't tear her gaze from the window.

"I don't think you need to know," the Doctor sighed and walked towards her.

"I need to," she swallowed hard, "That was my daughter..."

"No, that really wasn't," the Doctor bent down beside her, hoping to get her to look at him, "Your real daughter died hours ago, you don't need to know what happened anymore."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she finally turned her head, knowing that question would puncture his hearts as it was simply the truth. Although she also knew that he would take it as a simple question, never guessing she was talking about his actual daughter, who most certainly died during the Time War.

"Yeah, I guess I would," the Doctor admitted with a small smile, "But that wouldn't change anything, would it?"

She didn't answer anymore and instead took a proper look at him, no longer 'John Smith' he had changed into what she assumed was his usual attire. Things had changed, most definitely, but through his eyes she could see that he was still that irritating, rule-breaking, adventurous man she used to know, "So this is you, then?" she broke the silence and moved to sit properly.

"Yeah," the Doctor nodded, still bent down. He held his hand for her with his usual bright smiles, "I'm the Doctor."

"I know," Renata quietly said and shook his hand, her gaze falling, "You don't have to come and give me a pity talk, you know?"

"This is not that," he frowned.

Renata sighed, "Isn't it? I lost my daughter, my son, my friend...what are you doing if not for that?" her eyes teared up again and so she stood up and walked away from him, "I'll be alright, if that's what you need to hear to be able to go in peace."

The Doctor stood on his feet, "Come with me," he offered. Flinching, Renata turned with wide eyes, "Travel with me and Martha."

"No," her voice shook, "I won't."

"Why not?" the Doctor couldn't help feel hurt by her quick answer, almost seeming like she hadn't even thought about it thoroughly.

"I meant what I said earlier," she walked up to him, earnestly looking at him, "I will not be with you, Doctor or no Doctor. So you can go," she gestured to the door, "And don't bother keeping a tab on me, I won't be staying here anymore."

"You hate me," the Doctor concluded with hearts broken, "...and with good reason," he mumbled.

"If I hated you would I have allowed you to fulfill John Smith's last parting wish?" she challenged, crossing her arms, "Would I have allowed you to enter my house again? I don't know how else to put it but I do not hate you...I just don't want to go with you. I can't."

"Why not, then? I'd like a fresh new start with you," the Doctor stepped closer to her.

"But it's not right!" she exclaimed, her tears spilling again as she shook her head, "Please, just go away, go away and never come back. I don't want you here, I want you to go!" she pointed at the door, sniffling, "None of this is right, just go! GO!"

The Doctor knew there was nothing left to do nor say to get her to come with him and so did as she wanted and left the house. Renata winced when the door was closed but felt free to cry as she wanted. She hugged herself and shut her eyes, instantly remembering the last time it had happened. She yelled in anger and pain as she swiped everything off the table, ending in loud sobs. She then stopped and looked over at the couch again, feeling even worse when she remembered...

Renata and the Doctor (still as John Smith) were sat on the couch side by side, still contemplating on the options they could take to defeat the Family. But each time the explosions went off, more and more closely, the Doctor winced and felt worse that more and more people were dying on his account. He looked over to Renata who was staring hard at the ground, just knowing she was thinking of her dead children...and so he felt even worse. He needed to do something to stop more deaths from happening and much more, to keep Renata safe.

"I have to open it," he concluded after a moment more of silence. Renata's head snapped up to him, "If I become the Doctor again then he'll know what to do...and he'll keep you safe," he reached for her hand and gripped it, "Something I've failed to do all night."

"None of this is your fault," Renata quietly said, eyeing the fob watch, "Not yours nor the Doctor's. It's those blasted aliens, the Family, they're to blame for all this."

"Can you promise me something?"

"Depends..."

"After this is over, you leave this place and be happy with someone, alright?"

"John, I can't..." Renata immediately shook her head, "...I have terrible luck, believe me-"

"You need to go and try to be happy," John pleaded her, "That's one of my last wishes before I..." he swallowed hard, "...go."

"One?" Renata raised an eyebrow, "What's the other one?"

"You'll have to forgive me, or...him," John set the fob watch down.

"Forgive you for wh-"

John had leaned in and kissed her. Renata's eyes widened with the action but slowly fell to the kiss, even leaning into his hand that had cupped the side of her face. Once John pulled away, the blonde wore a stunned, blushed, face, unable to believe it had just happened.

And yet...

Martha awaited by the TARDIS for the Doctor, now changed back to her modern clothes as well. The Doctor gave a small smile as he approached her, "All right. Molto bene!"

"How was she?" Martha asked, a bit surprised that the blonde wasn't with them, "Did she tell you-"

"Time we moved on," the Doctor cut her off with a grim tone.

"But did she tell you she's a-"

"Time we moved on."

Martha instantly knew that Renata had not confessed to the Doctor she was a Time Lady. He would never just let the only other of his kind to stay back in 1913, on the brink of a war. But she couldn't exactly tell him something that wasn't her secret to tell, "I meant to say back there, last night..." she chose to obey and move on, "I would have said anything to get you to change."

"Oh yeah, of course you would," the Doctor quickly nodded, "Yeah."

"I mean, I wasn't really-"

"Oh, no, no," the Doctor waved it off.

"Good."

"Fine."

"So here we are then," Martha coughed, embarrassed.

"There we are, yes," the Doctor gave her a hug, "And I never said thanks for lookin' after me."

"Doctor, Martha," Timothy approached them.

"Tim-Timothy-Timber," the Doctor turned to greet the boy.

"I just wanted to say good-bye. And thank you, because I've seen the future and I now know what must be done," Timothy sighed, "It's coming, isn't it? The biggest war ever."

"You don't have to fight," Martha pointed out.

"I think we do."

"But you could get hurt."

"Well, so could you, travelling around with him, but it's not going to stop you," Timothy countered and crossed his arms.

"Tim, I'd be honored if you'd take this," the Doctor handed over his fob watch.

"I can't hear anything," Timothy made a face after trying to hear something.

"No, it's just a watch now. But keep it with you. For good luck."

"Look after yourself," Martha gave the boy a hug and a kiss on the cheek before heading inside the TARDIS.

"Can I ask a favor of you, Timothy?" the Doctor remained at the doorway of the TARDIS.

"Anything," he nodded.

"Renata, em - Mrs. Cartwright," the Doctor quickly corrected himself, "Look after her, please," he honestly pleaded, "Persuade her to go, to leave England...she has to leave before next year."

Timothy nodded again, "I will try my best, Doctor, I promise."

The Doctor acknowledged it and lightly smiled, "You'll like this bit," he said and went inside the TARDIS.

Timothy blinked in awe as the TARDIS began de-materializing in front of him. Though from the inside, the Doctor was actually having a bit of trouble getting the box to fully leave the place, "What are you doing, old girl?" he frowned as he went around the console, flicking controls here and there, "We're leaving! Why don't you want to go?"

Martha remained at the chairs and swallowed hard, knowing exactly why the TARDIS was throwing a fit over their departure. It recalled there was another Time Lord, a Time Lady, one that should be here with them...but clearly wasn't and wouldn't be anytime soon.

#noblecrescentedit #10th doctor x oc #oc: Renata Cartwright #doctor who fanfic #10th Doctor imagine #doctor who #The Beginning of Everything #Martha Jones #John Smith #TARDIS #Doctor Who imagines

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glamrockmonarch · 5 years ago

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Girls? - AU from Original Timeline

Summary: what if B!Reader and Brian had been parents to twin girls instead? They would have been a different kind of trouble...

Warnings: none. It's kinda fluffy.

A/N: this is kind of something I got obsessed with after talking to bae-beh @leah-halliwell92 so this will serve us all as a backstory of sorts for her wonderful ask that you may find here.

B!Reader watched the screen in search for something that made sense. Although she was full of joy at the presumed sight of her babies, she still found no shapes on the screen when her doctor started the ultrasound.

Brian was more patient for these sorts of things; he sat quietly next to his wife and tried to soak everything in as if this was an experience too odd to run through, a chance handed over to him by the universe or God or whatever force moved the planets and created him, his wife, and his daughters. He was only slightly nervous, knowing since the previous appointment how much they would find out today. The babies' genders. Brian knew their chances of having twins were rare, a mere 3.35 percent proved enough, and there he sat with his hand on hers.

B!Reader had different but similar emotions about the pregnancy.

Brian did not expect he would ever become a dad again after his 40th birthday, and yet his eyes fell onto his young wife's belly. A baby bump that brought her brightness and joy in the last couple of weeks; through morning sickness that lasted all afternoon and came back at anytime in response to the minimal scent of something strange. She would laugh and sing around the house. He would find her dancing in the kitchen, humming an old song while breakfast cooked on the stove. Brian hated mornings but her liveliness helped him get out of bed every day, even if it was just to catch a glimpse of her curious eyes as she examined her middle section on the mirror to check the progress and growth of the little ones as her hands felt around the flesh under her belly button.

While B!Reader struggled to see what the doctor was so kind and patient to explain about the shapes and shadows on the screen, to Brian it was clear as day. In the time when he became a father for the first time he was just as confused as his wife was now, still he managed then to see in the poor image of that time his baby boy, nowadays a fully grown man. He marveled again at technology as the images seemed so much clearer than they had been when his youngest daughter was born.

His soft grip on her hand tightened, he recognised something, a simple comment from the doctor made him see it. Or rather... not see it.

"It's girls, congratulations!" She smiled at both of them.

Brian smiled with his lips pushed together in a tight line while B!Reader stared at the screen in amazement, she turned her head to Brian and saw his expression, she let out a laugh and tugged at his hand.

"We're having girls!" She whispered excitedly to which her husband replied by nodding.

It was surreal, he wanted to cry. He cried! And when the doctor let B!Reader clean up her stomach she wrapped her arms around him and they remained like that for a minute.

"I love you...so much..." she whispered against his shoulder.

Brian squeezed her tight between his arms, enough to keep her close and pressed against his body but not too much so he wouldn't harm his baby girls.

The girls. Brian spent long afternoons thinking about the new babies while B!Reader worked on her next book. He knew how much work it would be with one baby, he could imagine how difficult it would be with two. He had to admit, the outfits they came up with for girls were far more interesting than the little numbers out there for boys.

Brian kept writing things down in a notebook, making lists, going back and forth as he tried to imagine everything possible. He put money aside for the babies, for the nursery and their stuff. A fund. The girls would need money for school and who was to say he would still be there when they reached college. So he opened two accounts to put money aside for school. He had little bracelets made for the little ones as soon as he and B!Reader chose their names. Each bracelet read their full name, and Brian got B!Reader a necklace with a little golden plate reading the girls initials, he got himself one too, but kept them all locked and hidden until the girls were born.

Brian worried a lot about the most practical stuff, about the babies' wellbeing, about bringing them to a safe environment. He put a machine to warm up and sterilise bottles in the nursery, got blankets and pillows and stuffed animals to fill in the empty spaces in the brand new cribs. When B!Reader decided she wasn't going to be able to breast feed two babies he made sure the cupboards were filled with formula so they wouldn't have to worry much about that. He put the best of the best in baby monitors in the nursery, painted the room himself with the most useful help of his son and daughters.

By the time B!Reader was six months along she was already starting to panic. Two babies were on the way and Brian had just announced another Queen + Adam Lambert tour the upcoming year... she was thrilled - don't get it twisted -, but she had never been a mother before. She didn't get to experience this journey with one child, and all of a sudden she looked down and instead of her feet she saw a big round mass protruding under her jumper with two growing babies inside. And she was going to be left alone with them?

She was excited and nervous. Being a mum felt strangely natural, she knew she was a mother the moment her pregnancy test came out positive. She felt love for her baby that very second.

She was lost for words when Brian pointed at her and his eyes went wide with a smile drawn all over his features. "You're showing!"

Oh, the pride... she hadn't stopped touching her stomach since that day, and neither had Brian. Every chance he had, he would rest his hand on it, thumb caressing lovingly. He was tender too, careful. He didn't dare get rough with her, but it didn't matter because they were two fools in love. For almost a full year B!Reader forgot everything about their age gap, all that mattered was how much they loved each other and the family they were about to become.

It was late December when the contractions hit. B!Reader was sitting with Brian in the living room, both watching one of those cheesy Christmas specials. While B!Reader was dozing off as usual, Brian rubbed her swollen belly absentmindedly. B!Reader was ready to pop, had been for a couple of weeks at that point, but the doctor decided to program her for a c-section on the 27th, right in the middle of week 38. The girls were just ready at week 37, so thankfully contractions started a week early and before the holidays were upon them, Brian drove his wife to the hospital and a few hours later they had babies Harper Farrokh and Charlotte Harris safely sleeping in mummy's arms.

Brian was crying the moment his older children arrived to see the twins. He held Harper Farrokh in his arms, the smallest baby he had ever held. The two girls were smaller than average babies, due to the fact that they had been sharing resources in the womb. Still, Charlotte turned out to be bigger, she was born second but weighed almost 300 grams more than her sister, and was merely a single centimetre taller than Harper.

"Are these my new baby sisters?" Louisa whispered as she went to take a look at Harper Farrokh over Brian's shoulders.

It did not matter how difficult things had been between Brian's children and his young wife before, the sight of the two little girls wrapped in those pink hospital blankets made everyone ease off. Brian was happy, the happiest he had been in years. His grown children could tell; and B!Reader had always been respectful towards them and their mother, so why fight or argue or cause trouble when there really was no harm done?

The girls were daddy's girls, both of them. Everyone would have guessed that with Harper being smaller Charlotte would be the leader, but it turned out that she was also quite stubborn. Like her dad she did what was asked of her but always was quite independent. The girls were identical on looks but their personalities could not be any more different.

Of course, Brian was outnumbered at home but he loved his girls. All of them - including Bellamy.

Let me know if you like this AU from the Original Timeline and/or if you have questions or concepts or ideas about it!

#au from original Timeline #brian may fic #brian may x reader #brian may fanfiction #brian may #brian may x y/n #brian may x young reader #brian may x you #brian may x b!reader #b!reader stuff #b!reader #Charlotte Harries May #Harper Farrokh May

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1989dreamer · 5 years ago

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In Your Little Werewolf Oven

On AO3

Summary: Danny moves to New York City and ends up opening a bakery called Little Werewolf Oven and most of his clientele ends up being supernatural.

As his reputation grows, Danny finds himself overwhelmed, so he advertises a position and gets not one, but two blasts from the past in the form of Derek Hale and his boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski.

Things work out great for Danny because now, not only does he have more time to do the things he wants, but he also meets his future husband through Derek and Stiles.

Life couldn’t be greater, Danny thinks.

Note: Andrew Erickson would be played by Aldis Hodge if on screen.

Main relationship: Danny/Andrew

Background relationship: Derek/Stiles

~ * ~

Danny makes his break with Beacon Hills when he chooses colleges. He graduates high school a semester early and then heads out.

No one even notices that he’s gone.

Well, no one except cousin Miguel who asks if he feels safe, if he thinks he needs help with the supernatural, and if he wants to keep in touch.

Yes, no, and not really.

Derek Hale is simultaneously the kindest and most fearsome person Danny knows. Mostly because there was a rumor floating around school before he left that Derek had killed both his uncle and a junior at the high school, Vernon Boyd, the third. Well, the uncle was still alive, but Boyd wasn’t, so Danny kindly turns down Derek’s offer of protection and then promptly fucks off to the other side of the country, hoping the distance will be enough.

And it is. For seven years. Long enough to get two bachelor’s in science, physiology and computer science, and to accidentally walk into a cooking class and end up in culinary school just so he can open his own bakery.

He is a bona fide business owner now.

He has no one working for him, so he is only open five hours a day and the rest of his time is spent baking.

It is, in a word, exhausting, but it is his work and it makes him happy.

Business is good for about three months, and then some big name celebrity comes through, orders some of his haupia—which he only made because it was easy and he could set it aside once it was done and not worry about it—and raves about it online.

After that, there is no peace.

Danny can’t get anything done aside from baking and making haupia, and he becomes despondent, trudging from one minute to the next, not even enough time or energy to swipe right on his dating app.

Yes. While Danny was in college, he had also taken time to create a new dating app for LGBTQ+ people. He has gone on a few dates using the app, and the experience is far superior to Grindr or just meeting someone at a bar. But now he doesn’t even have time for that.

He is horny and tired and he really needs help.

Well. Online applications are a thing. So, all he has to do is find three minutes to post something. He finds the time the next morning during breakfast, so he types up a job requirement and application and posts it.

By that afternoon, he has sixty-some applicants.

Okay. So it will take more than three minutes this time.

Great.

~ * ~

Three weeks later, Danny still hasn’t sifted through all the applications. He is desperate, yes, but also too busy. It would be nice if he can just point at someone and assign them to work with him.

He has, however, managed to make an update to his app, and has received favorable feedback. So, while he is still unable to take a moment to breathe, at least he has money to hire someone to go through the applications for the bakery.

It’s a selkie named Ryliegh, visiting her cousin who lives in the apartment across the hall from him, and she is fantastic at everything except baking.

Danny feels a little more at ease with her watching his back. His store, while crowded with humans of every shape, size, and color, is also filled to the brim with supernatural beings who like to take pictures with the bakery’s sign, get something to go, and then hang out on the minimal furniture Danny had grudgingly added a few months back to compete with the Starbucks two blocks away from him.

Why he is a supernatural draw, Danny doesn’t know. Could be the sign.

There are very few things Danny has kept from his life in Beacon Hills, but a stage-whispered conversation between Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall made the list, and his bakery is named Little Werewolf Oven.

Anyway. Danny views the supernatural as closeted. They don’t want the world to know they exist because the world would respond negatively. Hell, the first week he’d been open, a hunter had stopped by to ask him about the sign, and Danny had pretended to be obsessed with Jacob from Twilight—not that Taylor Lautner isn’t a hotty-mchotty who Danny had actually crushed on for a quick minute.

After the hunter left, it had taken everything in him to 1) not call Derek Hale to come make sure he was okay (not having Derek’s number helped) and 2) to remain open. What if the hunters came into his bakery all the time? They seemed set in their ways, and he knew it wouldn’t just be the supernatural population that was in danger. He himself might be targeted for “being different.”

Anyway. That hunter hasn’t come back nor has he told his friends about Danny, and so the supernatural and LGBTQ+ populations have claimed him.

And then Danny made haupia and never has peace anyway.

~ * ~

Ryleigh corners him a month after he hired her and slaps a stack of papers into his chest.

“What’s this?” he asks, amused if a little sad that they had reverted to this non-technological way of doing things. It’s so much easier to look at his phone than to read physical texts.

“Reviews,” Ryleigh says. “And an application. I suggest you hire him. He’s perfect.”

“Reviews of what?” Danny flips through the stack quickly. Ah, the bakery. It is now officially on some site that directs tourists around. Great. He is going to be swamped.

Then suddenly, in the middle of the stack is a job application, generic, hand-filled. Pretty script. Neat words. Derek Hale.

Danny drops the papers.

“What?” Ryleigh demands. “What’s wrong?”

“I know this guy.” Danny picks up Derek’s resume. On paper, Derek does sound perfect. And he even has work experience in a bakery. Who knew?

“Is he bad?” Ryleigh asks.

“Not exactly,” Danny replies, still studying Derek’s skills. “In fact, why don’t you give him a call, see if he can make it in for a test run soon.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Ryleigh wanders away, phone already on her ear. Danny picks up the rest of the reviews and sticks them in his office for when he, maybe, will have time to read them. Some of them look so sweet.

For now, though, someone’s gotta make more haupia because someone announced, on their social media no less, with about 10,000 followers, that tomorrow is the official day of the week that they will have it.

Well. At least it’s just one day a week. Danny can deal with one day.

~ * ~

Derek Hale returns Ryleigh’s call by the following afternoon, and she patches in Danny so they can talk.

“How soon can you start?” Danny asks, prepared for anything from a week to a month.

“Is tomorrow too soon?” Derek asks instead, and Danny can’t believe his good fortune.

“Sure, yeah,” he says, and then realizes he sounds desperate. Well he is, so fuck it. “Okay, Derek, you’re hired. Just bring in your social security card, driver’s license, and a bank account number with routing information so that I can direct deposit your paycheck.”

“Wonderful,” Derek deadpans. “See you tomorrow.”

Ryleigh gives him a thumbs up before she heads out for her night class. She’s taking computer science because she likes designing mobile games. Danny supports her wholeheartedly except he never downloads her apps. He doesn’t need the distraction. He still doesn’t have any time for dates, much less wasting time on his phone.

Derek will be such a relief. Too bad it isn’t tomorrow yet.

Whatever. Sleeves up. Maybe if he gets done before 9:00 pm, he can treat himself to that new Italian fine dining restaurant that opened around the corner from his apartment building.

~ * ~

Derek is already at the bakery by the time Danny rolls in at 6:00 am. The Italian was delicious last night, and Danny’s in a good mood which only gets better when he starts showing Derek the ropes. Derek is easy to train and easy-going. He has a bit of sharp wit that comes out when he’s not guarding it, and Danny feels honored that he gets to see it.

Derek’s smile is quick and easy. Danny doesn’t ever remember seeing it in Beacon Hills.

“So why’d you leave Beacon Hills?” he asks once he’s made up an employee file for Derek, noting that although it’s good, his license is fake. “And how old are you anyway?”

Derek rolls his shoulders. “Beacon Hills got too small,” he says, tightly. “The Argents no longer have jurisdiction over hunters there, so another hunting regime moved in. And I’m 28.”

“Yeah? Why does your I.D. say you’re thirty then?”

Derek refuses to make eye contact when he says, “Since my birth certificate was destroyed in the fire, Laura added two years to my age so that she could leave me on my own while she worked. I haven’t changed the I.D. yet because I don’t want to lose that part of her.”

“Understood,” Danny says. “Well, do you have a new I.D.? ‘Cause this one’s about to expire.”

Derek smiles, relief evident in his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll get that done in a couple of days when Stiles gets here.”

“Stiles is coming here too?” For some reason, Danny thought that if Derek left Beacon Hills, he’d leave everything behind. To bring Stiles is to bring the essence of Beacon Hills.

“Yeah, well, it’s kind of rude to leave your boyfriend behind.”

“Boyfriend?!” Danny can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. Derek glares at him. “Sorry. I just. I didn’t ever think Stilinski would get a boyfriend. Or laid, for that matter.”

“Yeah, well, he’s excellent in bed.” Derek stiffly turns back to the breads, kneading just a little too hard to be human.

“Easy on that,” Danny warns him. “I don’t need to replace these counters.”

“I don’t need you to hassle my boyfriend,” Derek returns, but he does lighten his touch.

“So, Stiles is coming here. Cool. What’s he going to do?”

Derek shrugs. “Beats me. He got his degree in anthropology and zoology. He’s trying to prove that certain supernaturals evolved as a missing link between humans and some older species. It’s really fascinating, but he loves talking about it, so you’ll probably get a rundown on it if you see him.”

“That sounds cool actually,” Danny says. “Now. Have you ever heard of haupia?”

~ * ~

Stiles does indeed arrive within a couple of days and Derek takes an hour to run to the DMV to update his license.

Then, when they get back, Stiles asks Danny if he still needs help.

Danny looks at the sea of people and then back at Derek and Stiles. “Yes,” he says, and Stiles hands him the same documents he’d asked Derek for.

“All right, you’re hired.”

Stiles grins, tying on an apron and jumping on the register. The line moves quickly, and suddenly the bakery is empty, for the first time in what feels like years.

“Cool,” Danny says. And then heads into his office to read the reviews from Ryleigh.

By the time he surfaces, the bakery is closed, Derek and Stiles have cleaned up, and Derek is prepping for tomorrow while Stiles sits on a stool and chats at him.

“Hey, thanks for coming out here,” Danny tells them. “It’s really awesome that you’re here.”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles says, “Beacon Hills kind of imploded on us. Did Derek tell you about the new hunter family that moved in? Right bastards, the lot of them.”

“He’s mad because they saw my eyes and decided that I needed to die.”

“Aren’t you mad about that too?”

Derek shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, that’s where I grew up. But Beacon Hills itself hasn’t been kind to me in a long time. I’ve got friends out here from before I followed my sister back. We’re actually going to meet one of them today.” Derek shares a look with Stiles. “Do you want to come with us?”

“You realize that I’m gay, right?” Danny says. He can’t help giving Derek a knowing look.

Derek snorts. “So is he. Do you want to come with us?”

Danny thinks of his lack of love life and lets it influence his answer. “Yes. I’d like to meet him.”

“Settled then,” Stiles says. “We’re meeting him at that deli on 23rd. His name is Andrew.”

“Are you going to tell me anything else about him?”

“He’s six feet tall, likes to dress well,” Stiles says. “He works as an analyst for a company close by. And he loves your baked goods.”

“So I have already met him?”

“Yeah,” Derek says. “And he thinks you’re cute. He hopes you think he’s cute too.” Then, Derek dusts off his hands, puts away everything, and washes up. “We have about an hour before we’re supposed to meet Andrew.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Danny says, waving them away. They leave, exchanging knowing smirks. Whatever. It’s cool.

It’s a stretch to think he’ll get laid today, but the potential of meeting someone makes Danny a little giddy. He needs a quick shower, a touch up of his cologne, and then maybe he’ll have some time to clean out his inbox.

Oh wow, he has time tonight! Who knew that having employees would make his life so much more manageable.

Anyway. He doesn’t want to be late to meet—or rather, re-meet—Andrew.

~ * ~

Derek and Stiles are standing outside on the sidewalk when Danny comes running up. He’d gotten wrapped up in his emails, unused to having even five minutes to do something like that instead of being too tired to function when he got off work.

“Andrew is already inside,” Derek says, pulling Danny close so he can run a hand over his back, something Danny used to watch him do with his pack before they were forcibly disbanded. Danny shivers under the touch. No lie, if Derek wasn’t with Stiles, Danny would be climbing him like a tree. As it is, he still has to will away a boner.

Derek smiles like he knows what just happened, and Danny shrugs him off.

Then, they walk into the deli. Derek leads the way, heading for a booth tucked near the back, a tall, suited man already sitting there, phone in one hand, the other resting on his head, fingers tangled in his curls. Danny stutters to a stop. He recognizes this man. He was one of the first people to visit the bakery. He’d made some mention of the name, something like, “Reminds of my best friend,” before winking and buying a dozen cookies.

Yeah, he was definitely cute.

“Andrew,” Derek is saying, “this is Danny. Mahealani. I think you’ve met before.”

Andrew looks up, taking in Danny standing there and nods. “Yeah. He’s an awesome baker.”

“And he’s gay,” Stiles remarks, sliding into the booth across from Andrew. Derek waves Danny to the table, and Danny sinks down next to Stiles. Andrew stands up and lets Derek sit so that he’s across from Stiles.

“Danny,” Andrew says, extending a hand, “Andrew Erickson.”

“Pleasure,” Danny says.

“Yes,” Andrew remarks, eyes sparkling. “It is.”

“Shall we order?” Stiles asks. “I’m starving.”

Danny doesn’t know if he’s hungry for food or for affection, but he knows either way, he’ll get what he needs tonight.

�� ~ * ~

The sort of date goes so well that Danny and Andrew walk back to Danny’s apartment together and then spend most of the night talking.

They don’t have sex, but it’s a near thing. Instead, Andrew spends the night on Danny’s couch and they exchange numbers and kisses.

Then, they both drag themselves to their respective jobs the next morning.

Stiles cracks a joke about the walk of shame, and Derek smacks him.

“Go well?” he says, as if he can’t tell. He’s a werewolf. He’d be able to smell if Danny had done anything.

“Yeah, it went really well. I think we could really work out.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Derek hauls Stiles into the kitchen.

Danny is thankful, but Derek and Stiles must have gotten in early because there in nothing for him to do.

Wow. This is going to give him so much time.

“Hey, you realize that you don’t have to do everything, right?” he calls out as he walks into the kitchen. Derek shoots him a blank look accompanied by a thumbs up. “Seriously, you can leave stuff for me to do.”

“Hey, werewolf here,” Stiles says. “He moves at two speeds: fast and faster.”

“Yeah well, you’re making me feel lazy here.”

“When’s the last time you had time to yourself?” Derek asks. When Danny doesn’t answer, Derek points at him. “Exactly.”

Danny looks to Stiles for help, but Stiles just shakes his head.

“Hey, you hired him,” he says. “Which reminds me: do you want me to do anything other than run register?”

Derek shakes his head, so Danny says, “Uh, no? That’s okay, Stiles. You did awesome yesterday. It’s probably going to be that busy again today.”

“That’s good, right?” Stiles asks. “I mean, it means that people like your business.”

“It also means that I can pay you.”

“And go on dates with Andrew,” Derek adds. “By the way, he really enjoyed last night. I think he’s definitely going to ask you out again.”

“Are you going to be okay with me dating your best friend?”

“Yeah. I mean, you and Andrew deserve to be happy. What kind of friend would I be if I got in the way of that? Maybe you’ll break each other’s hearts, but you won’t know unless you follow your path.”

“He’s gotten really Zen lately,” Stiles says. “Sometimes it’s really helpful.”

“Unless your name is Stiles and you don’t like to listen to your boyfriend.”

“I listened, honey. That’s why we’re in New York City.”

“Okay,” Danny interrupts before Derek can respond. “I’m going to go open now. Stiles, you wanna come with?”

“Yeah, sure. See ya, honey-baby-love-of-my-life.” Stiles throws an exaggerated kiss at Derek, who mimes catching it and tucking it into his pocket. It’s cute. Far cuter than Danny would have given either of them credit for seven years ago.

Maybe one day, he and Andrew can be like that.

It’s a goal. But first. Get through today. He needs to do an update for his app, reinforce some firewalls that keep out the bigots. If Derek and Stiles can handle the bakery, then he can get a head start on it. And meet with Ryleigh about financials.

It’s so nice to have employees.

~ * ~

Andrew calls him two days later, on a Sunday, and asks to see him again.

“Been thinking about you a lot.”

“Me too.”

“Can’t wait. Can we meet now?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Cool, let me in.”

“You’re here already?” Danny looks around his apartment, but it’s neat. He’s clean—showered after a run with Derek this afternoon. He even changed the sheets on his bed.

And he remembered to buy condoms when he was at the store earlier.

“Um, sure. Let me just.” Danny throws on a light jacket and jogs down to the street. Andrew grins at him when he pushes the door open for him. They walk back up to Danny’s apartment in silence.

“So, I know this is kind of out of the blue, but do you want to have sex with me?” Danny asks once they’re inside again. Andrew pauses mid-step, shooting a puzzled look at Danny.

“Sex, on the second date?” he asks.

Danny shrugs. “We’re both adults. As long as it’s consensual, why shouldn’t we?”

“Do you think we’re even compatible?” Andrew asks.

“If you’re asking, you’re already thinking about it. Now, I’m vers. How about you?”

“Vers too. I prefer to top with partners on the first time. Is that okay?”

Danny nods. “I was going to play later,” he admits. “So, I’m ready to go. I’ve got lube and condoms in the bedroom. Will you join me?”

Andrew nods, reaching out for Danny’s hand.

He’s reminded sharply of Derek grabbing Stiles’ kiss. “Are we going to be cutesy and couple-y?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Andrew says. “I mean, some partners like it, some don’t. I know I like pet names, but I’m not much for showing affection in public.”

Danny understands. As a gay black man, it has to be harder for Andrew to show his feelings or who he is without being attacked. “We won’t hold hands in public if it bothers you,” he says, “but I do like to call partners sweetheart and love. But not out in public.”

Danny isn’t under any illusions that Beacon Hills was an anomaly and that homophobia is still the norm in many places. He doesn’t like endangering either his partners or himself unnecessarily.

They sit on the bed, and Andrew studies Danny with kind eyes. “So, we’ll be cutesy and couple-y but only in private. Is it okay to walk with you, to stand near you?”

“To be caught looking at me, you mean?” Andrew nods. “Yeah, as long as it’s okay for me to do the same to you.”

“Definitely. So, this lube?”

Danny laughs, pushing at his chest. “Get undressed and I’ll give you a show.”

It certainly is a show when he gets down to it, and the sex is fun, messy, and only sort of good because they need to learn each other, but he doesn’t hate it, and he actually likes the way Andrew curls around him after they’ve cleaned up, and they sleep.

Danny wakes up in the middle of the night, sees Andrew still in his bed, and smiles before going back to sleep.

~ * ~

Derek obviously smells when their relationship changes, but he doesn’t make a big deal out of it, and he doesn’t let Stiles do it either.

In fact, they go on a lot of double dates, and Stiles tells horror stories of the first time he bottomed for Derek.

“Never again,” Stiles sing-songs. “Derek doesn’t mind, do you, honey-bunches?”

“I mind you discussing our sex life,” Derek retorts, “sugar-sweet-on-top.”

They jibe each other often and throughout the day. The customers love it. They also seem to love it when Andrew manages to come in for lunch and he and Danny usually hide in the office.

The bakery does so well with the extra help that Danny hires an additional four people and extends the hours. He also starts making more traditional Hawaiian goods, which go over just as well as the haupia.

Then, suddenly, he looks up to find that he’s been dating Andrew for a year and he knows that he absolutely wants to marry this man. Andrew has already moved in, and his suits don’t look out of place in Danny’s closet.

Everything fits.

There’s some small fights. And once Andrew spent the night at Stiles and Derek’s apartment while they cooled off and reconciled.

But, still, 365 days. Danny definitely knows he wants to plan a proposal, plan a wedding, and spend the rest of his life with the beautiful creature that sleeps in his bed.

To celebrate their anniversary, Danny enlists Derek and Stiles’ help.

Derek whips up more than baked goods, and Danny is thoroughly impressed by the spread he prepares. Everything is on the table, literally. Way too much food for just two people.

Derek sees him eyeing the table. “You know how you’re thinking about implementing a donation of unused foods to the homeless shelters nearby? Yeah, this is the test run.”

“That’s wonderful,” Danny says. “Thanks, Derek.”

“Hey, I helped,” Stiles says, jabbing himself in the chest. “I made some of the dishes.”

Derek nods. “He did. They’re good too. Traditional Polish dishes, like pierogi, pączki, żurek, and naleśniki.”

“Andrew’s had them before,” Stiles points out. “I’ve never cooked for you, so I don’t know if you like them.”

“I’m sure I will.” Danny gives them both grateful hugs. “Thanks so much for doing this for me.”

“It’s not a problem,” Derek says, grabbing Stiles and tugging him along as he heads for the door. “Let us know how it goes, yeah?”

He nods and then they’re gone.

Danny swallows hard when he’s all alone. He’s suddenly nervous even though he and Andrew have been together for a year now.

An anniversary dinner is nice, but is it what Andrew wants? Should Danny have purchased a ring? Should he be proposing tonight?

Before he can do much more than worry that he’s not doing this correctly, Andrew steps into the room.

He takes in the table and whistles lowly. “They really know how to cook, eh?” he remarks. “They really support us, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Danny agrees. He hugs Andrew and then pulls out his chair for him. “I haven’t tried Stiles’ cooking, but Derek says it’s good.”

“It is,” Andrew confirms, “although, I can’t pronounce half of what he makes, so he makes fun of me. We can’t all be secret linguistics, like Derek.”

“I’m going to come right out and say this,” Danny says, “I don’t have a ring. I meant to get one, and then I lost track of time.”

“You’ve been really busy,” Andrew agrees. “So I guess it’s a good thing I did get a ring.” He pushes back from the table and drops to his knee, holding a ring box in front of him. “Daniel Mahealani, I love you. I don’t want to spend another day without you, so will you accept this token of my affection and marry me when the time is right?”

Danny slides out of his chair so that he can kneel with Andrew. He picks up the ring and slides it on his finger. “Andrew Erickson, I do accept your ring and give you my promise to marry you when the time is right.”

They stand and sit back at the table.

“Twelve months,” Andrew says. “One whole year. It’s been a great year. And I can’t wait for the rest of the years too.”

“Yeah. That’s.” Danny blows out a breath. “That’s what I want too. I can’t wait for tonight, tomorrow, next week, the rest of our lives.”

“But right now, we have to do something about this spread. Certainly we can’t eat it all.”

“No, the plan apparently was to donate what we don’t eat down at the shelter.”

“Oh,” Andrew says, his smile slow and steady. Danny’s stomach flips a little, anticipating the celebration already even though they have dinner, donating the leftovers, and heading back to the apartment before they can even entertain the notion of sex. “That sounds wonderful.” He studies Danny with a knowing look. “How about we pack something up for later, drop the rest off at the shelter, and head home?”

Danny has to go around the table to kiss him because there’s too much food to lean over the table. But, hey, that’s good. So much food that won’t go to waste.

“I’ll grab some containers. Why don’t you pick out the things you think I should try from Stiles and then we’ll take care of the rest?”

“Divide and conquer,” Andrew says. “That’s why I love you.”

“That and I swallow,” Danny shoots back over his shoulder with a wink.

Andrew lets out a startled laugh. “Just go before you kill me with your quips.”

“I live to please,” Danny returns. “Just you wait.”

It’s hard to wait the two hours it takes to box everything up and deliver it. But somehow, they both survive right until they get into the apartment and the door is locked. Then they crash together, locked at the lips as they put away the food they kept, trying to undress as they move like some awkward, two-bodied creature.

They fall into bed without any injuries, and then proceed to make love at the slowest pace they have ever done so. It’s nice, but Danny is glad that the second round sometime around midnight is faster and more their pace.

Danny falls asleep afterward, sated and beyond happy. He’s got a wedding to plan with his fiancé.

~ * ~

Stiles and Derek get married around Thanksgiving. Danny and Andrew both attend as best men.

It’s the first time in eight years that Danny has seen anyone from back in Beacon Hills, and he is surprised that it isn’t as awkward as he’d thought it would be. For one, Scott doesn’t come. Stiles makes some bullshit excuse, but Danny can see how hurt he is. And another thing, everyone has grown up and matured. Sure they all have a few more scars than he remembers, but for the most part they seem happy.

After, once the vows are exchanged, the grooms kiss, the toasts are done, the food is eaten, the bouquet lovingly handed to Danny by Derek, and the guests gone with the couple departed to their honeymoon, Danny sits with Andrew on their balcony, watching the moon rise over the rooftops.

“That was a beautiful ceremony,” he says. Andrew nods in agreement. “If you don’t mind, none of those people aside from Derek and Stiles will be at our wedding.”

“Obviously,” Andrew says. “Do you want something similar?”

“Small, intimate?” Andrew nods. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

“How about New Year’s? All we need are a few suits, witnesses, rings, and some of your haupia.”

Danny laughs. “I knew you were only marrying me for my prowess in cooking Hawaiian desserts.”

“Oh sure, yeah, that’s what attracted me to you in the first place.”

“Yeah? And what attracts you now?”

“Hmm,” Andrew pretends to think about the question, before sobering quickly. “Everything,” he answers honestly. “I love everything about you. I love the way you are so smart, the way you cook, I love how you treat your friends, and how you’re not afraid to let someone know when they’ve hurt you. I love the way your face lights up when you laugh, and most of all, I love the fact that you’ve let me share your life with you.”

“Aw, babe, you’re going to make me cry.” Danny rests his head on Andrew’s shoulder. “I love you too. I love the way you always know what to say in any situation and how you know to give me space when I’m mad. I love the way you always hang up your clothes. I love the way you hog the covers at night. But most of all, I love that I get to share your life with you.”

They share a few sweet kisses.

“Shit, we should have recorded those,” Andrew says suddenly. “They would have made the perfect vows.”

Danny laughs again, sure his face is a bright beacon in the cold November air. “Yeah. We should have. How about we go write them down instead?”

“That works too.” Andrew stands up, offers a hand to pull Danny up. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too. Now move, I’m freezing.”

~ * ~

New Year’s day dawns bright and cold. The perfect day for a quick wedding.

Danny stands in front of the courthouse, Stiles to his right, fluttering about like a nervous moth. Ryleigh would have been here too, but she’s off visiting some of her others cousins, back in Ireland. She sent her love and congratulations in a confetti- and glitter-filled envelope that Danny had the foresight to open in his kitchen on the linoleum instead of his fully-carpeted living room. He’s still finding bits of glitter even after a deep clean.

“Why are you nervous?” Danny asks. “You weren’t this nervous when you and Derek got married.”

Stiles shrugs. “You realize this is the longest I’ve been apart from my husband since we first got together, minus the time he flew out here to get the job at your bakery. I’m just.” Stiles sighs. “Sometimes I think I’m going to turn around and he’ll be gone. Do you ever feel that way about Andrew?”

“No,” Danny shakes his head, “never. I trust him to come back to me, even when he leaves mad. Do you not trust Derek the same way?”

Stiles nods, but it’s clear he doesn’t.

“Why don’t you talk to your husband about it? I’m sure he’ll explain things better than I can.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Danny. You’re a great friend. Andrew is so lucky to be marrying you.”

“And I’m lucky to be marrying him,” Danny says. “Thanks to you and Derek for introducing us.”

“Oh hey, I think I see them.”

Indeed, it is Derek and his fiancé walking toward them. Andrew has the bouquet from Stiles and Derek’s wedding.

“Something old,” he murmurs as he comes astride of Danny.

Danny pokes his tie. “Something blue.”

“All right,” Stiles directs, “let’s get you inside and married before I lose any more feeling in my toes.”

Derek holds the door for them, and Danny swears he hears him hum “The Wedding March” under his breath.

Well, he and Andrew did pick out a playlist for the reception at the bakery after this, and they’ll dance to their song then, but it is nice to have some form of acknowledgment for what this day is.

Well, that is aside from the fact that this building is only open for the purpose of filing marriage certificates today and only for about two hours.

Six other couples have already been here. And now it’s Danny and Andrew’s turn.

“Got the rings?” he asks Stiles as they line up before the justice. Stiles nods, tossing one to Derek while Derek hands Stiles a folded piece of paper.

And then it’s off to the races. Vows exchanged, rings exchanged, kiss exchanged, paper signed, objections null and void, and it’s over.

Danny stands on the steps again, Andrew next to him, matching rings on matching fingers.

Derek and Stiles wave streamers of crepe paper in both his and Andrew’s favorite colors, clapping, and in the case of Stiles, whistling loudly.

As Danny surveys the mostly empty sidewalk in front of him, standing next to the love of his life, two good friends sharing this moment with them, he thinks life can’t get any better than this.

~ The End ~

#Teen Wolf Fanfiction #Danny Mahealani #OMC #OFC #Derek Hale #Stiles Stilinski #My Story/My Writing #Danny-centric

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djsinquarantine · 4 years ago

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LP Giobbi’s Chicago House, By Courtney

Description: www.twitch.tv/lpgiobbi Leah Chisholm, aka LP Giobbi, is the founder of FEMME HOUSE, an educational platform created to address the lack of representation and equity in electronic music. The organization offers workshops, mentorships, and other professional development resources for womxn and non-binary people to tear down the barriers to entry in the industry. She uses the hashtag #THISISFEMMEHOUSE to promote her streams on social media, and I found her on Instagram. I attended LP Giobbi’s Twitch stream Friday, June 12 at 9 pm EDT, and it reached 195 listeners when I checked and stayed around that number. In the description, I learned that LP Giobbi has 2.5k Twitch followers and links to the online racial justice organization Color of Change, her Paypal for donations, and her merchandise store. She is also sponsored by Echo Echo Wine and has a deal that involves being shipped two bottles of wine paired with a vinyl record. She mentions these links sometimes throughout the stream.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7L5tURts52A1JWtJR7UYYd?si=zzkmeanrSR2xq_l-auUy4g

She has curated the Spotify playlist “FEMME HOUSE,” and frequently updates it. She calls it “a new genre about more than music.” It’s about community.

Before LP Giobbi starts her set, the stream begins with fifteen minutes of an image of the Chicago Theatre with noises of the city in the background. Many people in the chat were from Chicago and appreciated that they tuned in the day that Giobbi was playing Chicago House, as they felt a deep connection to its history and sound. Users begin to congregate in the chat and get hyped up, preparing for round two of listening to LP Giobbi on that specific day (she streamed earlier for her Techno & Coffee stream at 10:30 am PDT). As the countdown clock keeps ticking away, Giobbi begins her first track, an unreleased mix of hers, and I notice that the intro is Sirius from The Alan Parsons Project! She leads us with an animation of bulls stampeding through Chicago and taking down a Racist People Tour Bus. It’s amazing to watch.

Visual Experience: LP Giobbi’s visual presentation is very colorful and fun. Her green screen background simulates a tour bus ride driving us all the way around Chicago’s streets and landmarks. She has animations of a dozen or so loudspeakers at the bottom of the screen and two disco balls spinning at the top of the screen. She also uses animations of the city buildings that slide across the screen and has colorful smoke clouds that fume up on each side. Whenever a user follows or subscribes, it shows up on the screen with a cute Pikachu face. At one point, she has dancing animations of the Cloud Gate as they pass it in the Chicago tour, and it was hilarious! All of these elements give the video a sense of movement and something to look at. They all evoke the feeling that this is Chicago and that it is her home although she is based in LA.

Her performance presence is also really engaging while also being relaxed and carefree. She sings along to the vocals of each track energetically along with some dramatic facial expressions and movements. Some people in the chat commented on her energy, which matched the energy of the music. They also liked her Femme House hat.

I looked through some of her broadcasts today and found these. This first one is from this past Saturday at her Piano House themed stream, and the second screenshot is from this past Sunday at her Gospel House service themed stream. She has different visuals for every stream, and that speaks volumes about her budget and production quality.

Sonic Experience: As the title of the stream suggests, Giobbi mostly plays house, but she also notably plays genres spanning minimal/deep tech, disco, and Eurodance. She uses a lot of what sounds like reverb to create atmospheric effects, and her bass and drum lines have a lot of funk. Giobbi describes her newest tracks as Afro-Cuban infused piano house, and she plays a lot of her own work mixed in with other artists. Her mixes and transitions are really smooth between tracks, and she constantly pitch bends or adds new elements to the sound for a bit of a pop. As she plays Chicago house tracks, she describes the history behind them with references to places in the city. When she plays Frankie Knuckles’s Whistle Song, she talks about performing at the Warehouse and what it meant to her. I liked all the tracks she played and I got really invested in the sound.

Technology: Here’s what she said about her gear: “Yas gear! while djing I use 3 CDJ 2000 Nexus 2's, one DJM 900 mixer where I go MIDI out into a TR8S drum machine and from there I MIDI sync that to a TB3 synth bass and then I have my regular cheap Yamaha keyboard. And I produce in Ableton.” The technology was so perfect, I forgot to even take note of it. No one in the chat seemed to have any issues either. The one issue I had was posting the survey. I whispered to the chat mods and they didn’t respond. I tried posting my link in the chat but it got deleted. I didn’t want to be too pushy either. The chat was moving pretty quickly and my message might have been lost in the shuffle anyway.

Social Experience: Giobbi constantly engages in the chat and continues the line of discussion that’s happening. She talks about the places we visit on the tour of Chicago and asks what burbs people live in by calling out their username. There’s a lot of people that live in Chicago that are on the stream, and it seems like significant amount of engagement comes from people that know each other in the DJ community, but not all. Many people responded to the “where are you from” inquiry with answers like Florida, San Diego, and Tofino. Some users bring up the word “plamp” like I’ve seen in other streams, and she wonders aloud what Camp Plamp is. The listeners respond that Camp Plamp is a way of life and they want her to join their cult in a joking manner. The chat is also engaged in the music, as they repeat lyrics and use LP Giobbi specific emojis like a keyboard, a loudspeaker, and a cutout face of her head. We reached a level four hype train, and many users were focused on maintaining this momentum by thanking listeners who chipped in bits or donations. They also said “choo choo!”. Giobbi’s mom enters the chat and the followers in the chat greet her warmly, and I found it very sweet.

Question: I was interested in Sarah’s question of community engagement and advocacy. Giobbi is very dedicated to sharing good vibes while also making her message of social justice known. On her Instagram, she reflects upon her presence in the electronic music community. As an ally, she founded Femme House to address the lack of representation and equity by combatting inequalities, and she wants to continue making these efforts even more so than she did before.

youtube

________________________________________________________________

#research diaries

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chancellormatt · 6 years ago

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Voltron Rewrite Episode Eleven - The Coalition Strikes Back

Prince Lotor walks carefully, as if on eggshells, into the planning room of his father. Zarkon has his back to Lotor, staring at a display showing a holographic sequence of a teleduv opening, and lines of energy coursing out. A readout of numerical calculations are projected alongside.

Lotor waits for his father to speak. Zarkon says nothing. Lotor’s hands clench and unclench, as he continues to wait. Zarkon just keeps staring at projection, watching the numbers change as the calculations continue.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Zarkon speaks.

“You failed.” The voice sounds neither angry nor surprised.

“...yes.” Lotor says, forcing the word out.

Neither says anything for several long moments.

“...your mother took the teleduv to a secondary location for some preliminary tests. You will go to her.”

“...for what purpose?”

“To be out of the way.”

Lotor flinches. “...and...my punishment?”

Zarkon finally turns around to face Lotor.

“There is nothing I think I can do, that is worse than the dishonor you have laid upon yourself. You know what a failure you are. Do I have to hammer in what is already clear to see?”

Lotor’s eyes bore into the floor, tightening his fists so hard the knuckles go white.

“Leave me. Do not return until you have something of value to offer.”

With a jaw clenched so tight the words can barely be heard, Lotor says:

“...yes father.”

With that, he leaves.

***

Pidge gazes intently at a display showing frequency readings. She sits inside a laboratory in the Garrison base, at a computer terminal. She types a few keys on the board and more frequencies appear, overlaying on top of the existing ones. Her expression grows harder.

The door slides open, and Keith walks in.

“Hey, Pidge. You wanted to show me something?”

“Take a look.” She nods to the screen.

Keith walks over, and looks down at the display.

“So uh...you wanna tell me what I’m looking at right now?”

She sighs. “When we first got back to Earth, I had them tune the astro spectrometers to look for quintessence, and other unique energy signatures.”

“And lemme guess: You picked up some?”

“You could say that. I’m getting some crazy readings all over the place. Been using my spare time trying to locate the epicenter, which I finally did. Check it out.”

A map of celestial bodies appears on the display.

“This,” she says, pointing to a highlighted spot, “is the source of these energy readouts. And this,” she points to another spot, “is the Quantum Abyss. Just a couple of lightyears away. I’m betting that’s not a coincidence.”

“Me either.” Keith says, eyes narrowing. “It's got to be Zarkon.”

“So...what do we do?”

“For now, just keep an eye on things. Let me know if anything changes. I’m going to ask the Blades and the Warlords if they know, or can find anything about this.”

“Roger that.” Pidge says, returning the display to the readouts. “Oh and Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever this is...it's big. These readings...I can’t even begin to describe how scary they are. Whatever Zarkon and the other Dark Paladins are planning...we have to do everything possible to stop it.”

“We will.” Keith says confidently.

“How can you be so sure? We sure got beaten last time.”

“Because we’re the Paladins of Voltron. That’s why.”

Pidge nods, seeming to accept this answer. With that Keith leaves her to her work.

***

Lance walks inside an open hanger, towards Hunk, who’s back is to him. The big man is talking to a group of cadets that surround him. Lance smiles as he approaches, hearing his friend’s words.

“-rookie mistake. I used to make it all the time. Those gyroscopic stabilizers can get a little wonky once you get past three G’s. Talk to your engineer about it, they should be able to adjust the compensators, to make that a little-”

“There he is!” Lance calls out, for the whole hangar to hear. “The man, the myth, the legend: Hunk Garrett!”

Hunk cringes, but the cadets seem all the more excited.

“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a little bit…?” Hunk says, as Lance walks up to throw an arm over his friend’s shoulders.

“Not even a little! Ya know this guy always talks about how scared he is? Turns out he’s a real heroic one. Totally called it.”

“Come on, I was the last one to even get in the fight.”

“Yep. Real thematic entrance, too. I’m proud of you buddy.”

The Cadets start to clamor, asking questions and swarming them. Hunk, however, cuts them off with a wave of his hand.

“Alright, alright. Cool down guys. We aren’t going anywhere. You all on the other hand, are due for flight drills if I’m not mistaken? I’d get to your fighters before your drill sergeant starts to wonder what’s taking so long.”

The cadets get a wave of panicked looks, and quickly disperse, calling out farewells as they run.

“Amazing.” Lance says shaking his head. “Just hold one of your eyes shut and you really would just be the spitting image of Iverson.”

“Oh stop it.” Hunk says shrugging off Lance. “I was just running their tests on the Yellow Lion, and after seeing Voltron firsthand they wanted to ask me stuff.”

“Uh huh. So in other words, you’ve become their beloved hero-pilot.” Lance sighs exaggeratedly. “Man, how come no one ever notices how heroic I am?”

“Well I’m sure before long they’ll all be singing the praises of ‘Lance the Sharpshooter.”

“Guess we’ll just have to see…” Lance grumbles. A slight quirk of his lips indicates that he is not as downcast as he pretends.

Hunk chuckles.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Just glad I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

Suddenly a wide grin grows on Lance’s face. “Not yet ya aren’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well buddy, I think it's time we both got some well deserved R&R. Whatcha say we sneak out of this place before another alien invasion or something happens, and go hit the town? Yaknow, for old time’s sake.”

“That does sound like it could be fun.” Hunk admits.

“Great! Now let’s just make sure Keith doesn’t-”

Both of their communicators squak to life, with the sound of Keith’s voice.

“All Paladins, gather in the usual meeting room. Follow up on the attack, and discussing where to move from here on. Attendance is non-negotiable.”

They both sigh.

“Well he’s sure got ordering people around down.” Lance says.

***

The five Paladins of Voltron, Shiro, Coran, Matt and Sam Holt, Admiral Sanda, and all the other various leaders of both Coalition and Garrison sides sit in the large meeting room.

Admiral Sand sighs long and hard, before standing up to speak.

“The council has agreed to support the Coalition in their efforts to stop Zarkon and the Galra forces he controls-”

Before she can continue the room erupts into a cheer. She gives an annoyed look, though a slight tug at the corner of her mouth seems to tell a different story.

“-this means that we will supply the Coalition with all our resources.” She goes on once the cheers die down.“Most important of these, is our own military forces which, when necessary, will join the Coalition in deep space, and assist in the fighting.This includes the Atlas mecha, and all the currently battle-worth starfighters we possess. That is all.” Sanda sits back down.

“Oh come on Sanda, it's okay to get excited!” Matt says with a smirk. “This means we can finally officially work together again! I know you’ve missed my sense of humor.”

“With how much time you spent hanging around base, one could be convinced you never left.” Sanda sniffs. The comment however, is lacking it's usual bite. Though reserved, she does seem pleased.

“Thank you, Sanda. Really.” Shiro says. “Delays aside, I know you fought hard for this. We all owe you for this.”

“Pay me back by finishing this war quick. Oh and try not to bang up the Atlas any more than you already have. Speaking of, how are the repairs coming along?”

“Just about finished, actually.” Sam Holt replies. “While the arm came off, the actual damage was relatively minimal. Plus Coran showed us how to implement some Altean technology that expedite the repair work. Should even make upgrades easier, too.”

“Ah yes, modular construction.” Coran says, massaging his mustache.“Very helpful in building the Castle. Interestingly enough a version of the same tech was instrumental in Voltron’s-”

“I’ll leave the details to the engineers.” Sanda cuts in. “As long as it's back to being battle ready. I don’t want us to be caught with our pants down, again.”

Keith clears his throat. All eyes turn on him.

“On the subject of battles...I think we should probably discuss what we’re doing next. Moving forward with the war, I mean.”

“I’m all ears. You’re in command here now.” Sanda says simply.

Keith looks taken aback by that, but recovers quickly.

“Right. So, I’ve been thinking lately that we’ve been fighting a little too defensively. So far we’ve just waited for our opponents to show up first, then deal with the aftermath. But we’ll never win like that. I think it's time we attacked, and put them on the defensive.”

“A good decision.” Sanda nods approvingly. “But my question would be, where? As far as I understood it, you were not aware of your...our, enemy’s precise whereabouts.”

“That’s not...exactly true.” Keith says carefully. “We know that at the very least they’ve taken over the Altean Colony in the Quantum Abyss. The Blades have confirmed as much. They also verified that a lot of enemy galra activity is centering around there, so it's a safe bet that they’re using the colony, or a place very nearby as their headquarters.”

“So we attack this ‘Quantum Abyss,’ then? Cut the head off the snake, as it were?” Sanda asks.

“Tempting as that is, we don’t really have enough info to make that kind of attack, yet. We have no idea what kind of defenses they have, how they have their forces situated, or any of that. The Blades, unfortunately, haven’t been able to get close enough to get a read on the place.”

“Do you have an alternative suggestion then?”

Keith nods. “Over the past few days, Pidge has been monitoring some suspicious energy readings coming from an area not far from the Abyss. Just recently I was informed by the Blades that there is, in fact, a large compound there, with a significant amount of security guarding it. We think they might be testing some kind of new weapon.”

“Whatever this thing is, it’s a big deal. I can tell that from the readings alone. We’ve got to figure out what they’re doing there, and stop it if we can.” Pidge explains.

“I assume you have a plan?” Sanda asks.

“So far, the idea is we launch a good portion of our forces to attack this thing. We’ll have a ton of ships, Atlas, and a few Lions, but not Voltron. The reason for this, is because the attack is just a distraction. While our forces are attacking outside, one of the Paladins is going to sneak in, hack their computer and take every scrap of data on what’s going on in there, then evac. Then we’ll pull out, before reinforcements can arrive.”

“Wait a minute.” Lance cuts in. “Hack in? That means the one going in will be…”

“Me.” Pidge says, as if it were obvious. “I’ve got the computer skills, plus Green already has cloaking abilities, so getting in should be easy. I’m going to be the one sneaking in.”

“...alone?” Lance asks, looking confused.

“Well yeah, that’s the idea. We don’t exactly want them to find out the real reason we’re there.”

“Why don’t we send in some of those Marmoran Blade guys, too? They’re all space ninja-ey.”

Pidge sighs. “The more people we send in the more likely it is we’ll get noticed. As good as the Blades are, adding more people will just make sneaking harder. Besides, they”

“If...you say so.” Lance says, uncertainly.

We can discuss the finer details later.” Keith cuts in. “But, right now this seems to be the right move. We’ll deal a blow to our enemy, and gain some much needed intel, in one move. Any more questions?”

There are none.

“Alright, then. Let’s get ready for battle everyone.”

***

Prince Lotor, inside the Dark Red Lion, flies towards a massive space station. It is built in a gigantic, flat, ring shape. At the center of the ring, is the teleduv, with six robeasts hovering over it.

Lotor pulls into the station’s hangar bay, and lands his Lion. He steps outside, and is met by Raimon, standing there, in his usual maroon armor.

“Raimon.” Lotor nods.

The other man nods back, ever so slightly.

“I suppose this is where Zarkon is sending all those he wishes to punish. Though, I should hope I never do something to earn as much ire from him as you.”

Raimon does not reply.

Lotor sighs. “Ever the quiet one, my friend. Very well, take me to my mother.”

“Yes sir.”

***

Lotor and Raimon step inside a room, where the far wall is one long viewport. The viewport is built into the inside of the station’s ring, giving it a clear view of the teleduv and the robeasts hovering over it. Honvera stands in front of the port, looking out, unmoving.

“Mother.” Lotor greets.

“Son.” She replies. “How did it go with your father?”

“He didn’t throw anything at me, so I suppose that’s something. Just told me to get out of his way, and stay like that. Almost makes me more worried, that he didn’t do something worse.”

Honvera pauses before replying. “...I see. Well that aside, your timing is impeccable. Come, we are about to start the next test.”

Lotor walks over to stand next to his mother. “How goes your mad plan to open the quintessence field with the teleduv?”

“So far the readings have been promising. By using the robeasts, and by extension, the altean pilots, we can more easily control the rate of quintessence draw.”

Violet lighting begins to crackle along the teleduv’s surface, then begins to arc out to connect with the robeasts.

“...does it hurt the pilots?” Lotor asks after a moment.

“Yes. I suppose it does.” Honvera says unconcerned. “I believe it only takes a few hours to recover, however. No one’s died yet, so it shouldn’t be a resource concern.”

Lotor winces, but his mother doesn’t seem to notice. The crackling grows more intense. A glyph appears at the center of the teleduv.

“...what is the purpose of today’s test?” He eventually asks.

“I’m trying to solve a rather interesting conundrum.”

“Interesting how?”

“After the first few tests, the outputs suddenly changed. It appears as though there is some kind of block in the quintessence field. Like a large stone obstructing a stream. Quintessence still pours out, but not nearly as much as we should be getting.”

“What could be causing that?”

“My best hypothesis, is that there is something physical stuck in the quintessence field, and due to the nature of reality, it is trying to slip out every time we open the teleduv.”

“Something physical…” Lotor muses. “...could they have tried to make another-”

“Mistress! Something is coming through!” A voice crackles over comms.

Honvera narrows her eyes. “Expand the portal, and run stabilization. I don’t want it-”

There is an explosion of violet light, sending several of the robeasts flying. The violet lightning grows more erratic, striking out at the station itself, causing the whole facility to shudder.

“Shut it down!” Lotor calls out.

“It does not appear to be responding.” Honvera replies, fingers flying across a holographic keypad.

The crackling grows more intense. Lotor grabs his mother’s arm and makes as if to run for it.

Then, all at once, the energy crackles to nothing, an all is dark. Honvera tests the comms.

“Report.” She says.

“Damage was minimal, mistress. Just a power surge from all the quintessence. We’ll have things back up and running soon.”

“The pilots?” Lotor asks.

“Two dead. Rest are in critical condition. Reeling them in now.” The operator replies.

Lotor’s eye twitches at that.

“Prioritize getting me a visual.” Honvera says. “I want to see what we just dragged into the physical universe.”

After a few moments, lights from the station come on, illuminating the thing in the center of the teleduv.

A mecha of dark armor, with a long segmented tail, hangs limply in space.

“What…” Lotor says carefully. “...is that?”

***

Lance runs through a crowd of Coalition and Garrison personnel. They are standing in a crowd around Keith and the other Paladins.

“...the Atlas is going to be flanked by Garrison fighters. Now remember, as good as you guys think you are, you’re still at a technological disadvantage, so don’t take unnecessary risks…”

“Sure cutting it close huh?” Hunk whispers.

“Just psyching myself up, before the battle, as usual.”

Hunk gives him an odd look.

“What? Do you not do that?”

“I usually just pretend we aren’t actually fighting until the last minute. That way I don’t have time to think about how terrifying it really is.” Hunk shrugs.

“...Meanwhile our Galran allies will attack from another angle. Finally us Paladins in the Lions will attack from a third angle. This should convince them we really mean business. Meanwhile Pidge will be commencing her operation. ONce this begins, Lance and Hunk will board the ship as well, but in less covert fashion...”

“He means awesomely.” Lance whispers.

“I think he means make a bunch of noise.” Hunk corrects.

“This, hopefully, will keep them for looking for other intruders, by giving them a false lead. After that, it's just a matter of waiting for Pidge to get the data…”

Lance shoots a look over at Pidge, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“...destroy as much as you can on the way out. And, I’ll say this again, but no unnecessary risks. The more people we lose today, the fewer we have to fight Zarkon tomorrow. That’s all. To your posts.”

The group disperses, to head for their respective ships. Lance however, instead of heading to his own Lion, walks over to Pidge.

“So, going in there all commando style, gonna steal the glory from the rest of us, eh?

“Glory’s got nothing to do with it. It's just the logical move.” Pidge shrugs.

“Riiight.” He smirks. “I think you just decided video games aren’t enough you gotta beat me at being a hero, right?”

“Oh sure, we’re all just trying to beat you Lance, but you’re just too hard to one up. Really we all feel inadequate with you around.” She rolls her eyes exaggeratedly.

Lance chuckles. “Glad someone recognizes me…” his expression suddenly get serious. “But uh...be careful.”

“Where’s this coming from?”

“It's just...these guys are dangerous. Really dangerous.” He glances down at his hand, as if expecting it to star shaking. “ I wouldn’t want…” He shakes his head, and his smile reappears “...I wouldn’t want to have to come rescue you. It’d be really embarrassing for you.”

Pidge snorts. “Yeah, sure.” She moves to enter her Lion, then hesitates. “I’ll...try to look out.”

Lance nods. “Good luck, then.”

Then, he turns around, and heads over to his own Lion. Pidge watches him go. After a moment she shakes her head, and steps inside the Green Lion.

***

Prince Lotor watches, as the strange mecha is laid down inside a hanger on the station. Workers using laser-torches make vain attempts at opening the hull.

“Where do you think it came from?” Lotor asks.

“I do not know.” Raimon replies.

“Best guess then.”

“I have no guesses.”

Lotor narrows his eyes at the other Paladin. “My father really did a number on you didn’t he?”

Raimon remains silent. Lotor sighs.

“Wherever it came from, hopefully what's left of the pilot or onboard computer will tell us more.”

“What is that?” A voice suddenly says.

Lotor and Raimon turn to see Sendak approaching.

“Sendak.” Lotor smiles. “What brings you around here?”

“Routine inspection of the contingent I left here. I heard something of note had been found but…” He gazes up at the mecha. “...this is something.”

“It is, isn’t it.” Lotor muses. “I must say I like the color choice…”

“Hold a tick.” Sendak says, as his communicator beings pinging. “This is Sendak, report.”

“Sir! Enemy activity detected!”

Lotor perks up, with interest.

“Numerous enemy ships on a course towards our location.” The office goes on.“It seems they are approaching the compound in force. Lions have been spotted but no Voltron as of yet.

Sednak furrows his brow. “ETA?”

“Just under a varga.”

“Understood. Launch defenses, and prepare for assault.”

“I will be in my Lion. I suggest you do the same. Perhaps a good performance here could...improve your situation.” Sendak says carefully.

Lotor hesitates. “...no. Don’t get in your Lion.

Sendak quirks his head looking confused. “...forgive me, Prince Lotor, but you are not currently in command here.”

“Fine. Take it as a suggestion, then. I don’t think we should go out. At least not yet. If we wait to show ourselves, we’ll get a better hand on what their goal here is. More than that, we’ll be able to upset their rhythm. They launched a surprise attack on this station. Seems only fitting we should return the favor.”

Sendak stares at Lotor for several long moments, before finally nodding. “Your words are wise, Prince. Let us try this plan…”

***

The forces of the Voltron Coalition open fire on the ring-shaped space station. Defense turrets and galra cruisers return fire. Swarms of fighters on both sides pour over the battlefield. Four of the Lions of Voltron tear through the battle. Energy-fire from all sides turns the whole scene into a lightshow.

Pidge ignores all this, engaging her Lion’s cloaking ability and disappearing from sight. She guides Green in a careful trajectory, weaving around and out of the way of all the other ships, friendly or enemy.

She makes it all the way to the station’s surface without incident, touching down on the dark metal.

“On the surface, gonna see about getting inside, now.” She reports.

“Roger that. Lance, Hunk, time to move.” Keith orders

“You got it!” Lance yells over the comms. “Gonna hit these guys so hard they crawl back to Zarkon and tell ‘em stories of ‘Lance, the Greatest Paladin that ever lived!’”

Pidge smiles and shakes her head.

The Red and Yellow Lions tear their way through the battlefield, aiming for a hangar bay that fighters are streaming out of.

Pidge picks her way long the surface of the station, still unnoticed. She comes upon a hatch built into the top of the station.

“Found the maintenance hatch.” She reports, inserting a wire from her wrist into a side-panel. “Just making sure they don’t notice me entering…” The hatch pops open. Pidge slips inside, and the hatch closes after, shrouding her in darkness. There is a hiss as the compartment fills with air. “...I’m in.”

***

Lance and Hunk glide their Lions inside the hangar bay, mouth beams blasting all the way. Dozens of enemy fighters are destroyed, and galra sentries go flying.

After a few more rounds of shooting, they both land.

Lance dashes out of his Lion, rifle at the ready. “We just made our entrance. And with a lot of style, too.”

“Good work, now go make some noise.” Keith says.

Lance and Hunk share a look and nod. Hunk hefts his bayard cannon, and opens fire on a door at the end of the room. After a few shots, it crumples, and falls to the floor. They dash through, to find a squad of sentries running up to meet them.

“Well buddy guess it’s just you and me against the world.” Lance says, taking aim.

“More like against the universe.” Hunk corrects.

“I guess so. Thinking about running away, yet?”

Hunk blasts apart a pair of sentries before they can get shots off. “Not a chance.”

“I thought so.” Lance smiles.

***

Pidge sneaks down a long corridor. She stops just before an intersection of hallways. Across the gap, on the next wall over there is an access panel. She starts to move across, glancing around the corner, before jumping back into cover.

A pair of sentries walk down a parallel hallway. She waits several moments before peeking around the corner again. Nothing. She runs across and plugs into the panel. She types on a holographic pad for several moments before a light turns green, and her wrist projects a virtual image of the station’s inner layout. She zooms in on one location.

“Central servers. Got ya.” Pidge smirks, unplugging from the panel.

She resumes her creeping down the hallway.

***

Lotor watches the battle being waged outside. The Black and Blue Lions still tear their way through fighters and cruisers. On the other side, Atlas is wreaking havok on the station’s defenses. Yet another feed shows Hunk and Lance shooting their way through the inside of the station.

“Tell my mother and Raimon to fly out and engage the Lions outside.” Lotor says. “I assume you should be able to handle those two making a mess inside?”

“Do not insult me Lotor.” Sendak scoffs. “But even still, where will you be?”

“I’m going to go confirm a hunch.” Lotor says, walking out of the command room. “If I’m wrong it's galran ale on me for you and all the men.”

“Very well, sir.” Sendak says a slight smile touching his lips. “Happy hunting.”

“And you.”

***

Keith and Allura fly in a tight pair, keeping the fighters off each other, and blasting lines through the enemy fighters.

“Two more on your six!” Keith warns.

Allura fires the Blue Lion’s tail laser, taking out one. Keith finishes off the other.

“Thanks!”

“Don’t thank me just yet. We got trouble.”

Sure enough, the Dark Blue and Green Lions fly out from the station, opening fire. Keith and Allura dive into evasive maneuvers, narrowly dodging the blasts.

“Let me take the Blue one. We have unfinished business.” Allura says narrowing her eyes.

“Careful.” He warns, letting out a blast that is aimed at the Green Lion, but is evaded. “These guys are no joke.”

“I’m well aware.” Allura says, dodging a blast. She fires her sonic cannon, to stun the other Lion. She follows up with a mouth beam, but despite the previous blast, her opponent is still able to move enough to make the shot only grazing.

The other Lion then replies, by firing with his own mouth blast, forcing Allura to dodge into his second shot from his tail.

Allura shakes off the hit, and punches her Lion back into motion, facing off against the Dark Blue Lion.

***

Pidge creeps up to a corner, around which is a short hallway, ending in a door guarded by two sentries. She notes these on her map. Biting her lip, she dismisses the map, and pulls out her bayard. She takes a deep breath, then dashes around the corner.

The sentries notice immediately, raising their weapons to fire. Pidge is faster. She fires her bayard, it's blade taking the first in the chest. She reels in the line at the same time, dragging herself and the sentry towards each other. An energy shot from the other one flies over her head, narrowly missing. Pidge kicks off the first sentry, leaving it a broken mess on the floor, and freeing her bayard to stab at the second. It's weapon cleaves in two. The sentinel tries for a punch at Pidge’s head, but she slips under it and drives her bayard’s blade upwards. The sentinel’s head shears off, and it collapses.

Pidge admires her handywork, giving a self satisfied smile. Hacking through the door takes only a moment, and she steps into the room beyond.

Long columns, from floor to ceiling, with blinking lights fill the room. The central and thickest columb is the one Pidge moves for. She immediately sets to work on the terminal built into the side of it.

“Guys, I’m in the server room now. Should only be a few minutes now.” She says, fingers typing quickly.

“G-” there is the sound of an explosion over the comms. “Good work!” Keith manages to get out. “Just make it quick, these guys are putting up a fight!”

“Will do.” Pidge pulls a drive out from inside her armor, and inserts it into the server. “Gonna copy everything I can down. Until then…” She opens one of the files on the terminal display. “...let’s see if we can’t take a peek as what you guys have been up to…”

Pidge opens another file, scanning it before closing it and opening another. She does this for several minutes, before finding one file that is different. When she opens this one, her eyes immediately widen with shock. She nearly falls as she stumbles back from surprise.

Sincline. Lying in a hanger, held in the very same station she stands inside.

“I take it that you recognize that machine.” A voice says from behind.

Pidge whirls around, throwing up her bayard.

Standing barely two dozen feet away, is Prince Lotor.

“When did you…?” Pidge says with confusion.

“Oh, I was here from the start. Just, waiting for you to show up.” Lotor explains causally. “To be honest, my first thought was that you’d go after the power. But, that’d be too well guarded, with too man redundancies. After I thought about it for a moment, I knew that you’d have to actually be here for information.”

Pidge’s eyes flicker to the drive, still slotted into the server.

“Tell me little one. That mecha there, do you know where it’s from? I’m betting you do. If you tell me outright I promise to make sure my mother doesn’t torture you too badly. I might even let you live after that, though perhaps that would not be much of a mercy. My mother does do nasty work when it suits her-”

Pidge dives, snatching the drive free and rolling across the floor. Lotor summons his bayard, cracking against the spot she just vacated. The energy whip slashes a glowing tear in the column, having missed Pidge by inches. Lotor cracks the whip again, and Pidge only barely dives behind another column in time.

“Prepare to disengage!”She yells over the comms. “I was discovered, evacing with as much data as I could get!” Then, as an afterthought, she adds. “Keith, Allura, blow a hole in the hangar on the third quadrant, and see what’s inside. You’ll understand when you see.”

“Roger that.” Keith replies.

“Wait, discovered?” Lance asks. “You need help evacing?”

“Negative! Evac with Hunk as planned!” Pidge is forced to dive again, as Lotor’s whip slices the column she was hiding behind in half.

She makes for the door, sprinting as fast as she can. Lotor’s whip slashes across the floor in front of her, cutting off her exit. She spins, bringing her bayard up and firing at Lotor. He smiles, shifting his bayard into it’s curved sword form, and knocks the green blade aside. Then he launches himself at Pidge, blade swinging. She tries to dodge, but the blade connects.

Pidge cries out as her helmet is knocked from her head, and she tumbles across the floor.

“What was that? Pidge? Pidge!” A suppressed voice says from her helmet lying several feet away.

Pidge looks up, fear in her eyes, as the towering Lotor approaches.

“...you realize, of course, that I cannot let you leave with that data.” He explains, twirling his sword experimentally. “Not that I was ever going to let you leave anyway…”

***

“Pidge? Pidge!” Lance repeats over the comms. “Pick up, quiznak it!”

No response. He shoots Hunk a worried look. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but is cut off when a door ahead of them is blown out of the wall. Sendak steps through, staring them down. Hunk and Lance raise their weapons, but no one yet fires yet.

“At last,” Sendak says. “I get to test myself against the Paladins of this realm. It is one things to fight in Lions, or Voltron itself. But there’s nothing quite like beating a man with your hands.” Sendak clenches his large robot hand into a fist, as if for emphasis.

“We should evac.” Hunk says.

Lance nods slowly. His gaze shifts away from Sendak, past him, deeper into the station’s bowles. Hunk notices this. He takes a breath, and turns back to Sendak.

“Go.”

“What?” Lance asks with confusion.

“I’ll keep this guy busy. Go find Pidge. Make sure she’s all right. And if she’s not, get her out of here in once piece.”

Lance hesitates only a moment before nodding. “...okay.”

Sendak laughs. “That assumes I will let you do such a thing.”

“Go!” Hunk repeats,

Lance does, dashing down the hall, towards the doorway Sendak blocks. Sendak throws out his fist, hurling the metal hand right for Lance. It is blasted off course by a shot from Hunk’s cannon. Hunk fires the next shot at Sendak himself. Sendak activates his bayard in shield mode, blocking Hunk’s blasts. Lance dashes past Sendak, not even giving the galra a second glance.

Sendak turns to throw his arm at Lance’s back. His shot his thrown off balance when something slams into his shield, pushing him back. Sendak looks up to see Hunk, standing there with a large hammer having replaced his cannon.

“I’m not going to let you stop my friend.” Hunk says, hefting the hammer.

“Interesting…” Sendak says, pacing back and forth. “...and do you really think you’re strong enough? Can you can defeat me with what pitiful power you have? You’d be better off running. At least you’d live a little longer.”

Hunk sighes. “You know, not so long ago, I might’ve taken you up on that. But here’s the thing: I realized that bad guys like you don’t just go away. Someone’s gotta step in your way. Someone’s got to stop you. And today, that’s me. No one else is gonna do it, so I’ll have to. To answer your question, I don’t know if I’m strong enough. Let’s find out.” Hunk raises the hammer to his shoulder.

Sendak grins hungrily. “Yes...show me your strength…” He turns his bayard into an axe. The two Paladins of the Yellow Lions charge each other.

***

Lance dashes for a group of galra guards. He shoots the first two sentinels down before they can even react. His third shot misses, but the following one lands, taking another sentinel in the head. The fourth and final guard’s shot glances off Lance’s energy shield, as he crashes into the guard. They tumble and Lance comes up on top. He shifts his bayard into a sword, and holds it to the guard’s neck.

“Oh, a living one, not just a bot. Good.” Lance says, noticing the flesh of the guard’s mouth and chin from the gap in the helmet’s chin. He presses his sword against its throat, making the guard swallow in fear.

In a very cold voice Lance says: “Tell me where the server room is, and you’ll get to keep your head where it is.”

***

Keith and Allura spins their Lions around, avoiding fire from the enemy Lions, while letting out blasts of their own. They try disengaging from the fight, but the Dark Lions give them no opportunity to escape.

“Dangit, we can’t shake these guys!” Keith calls out.

“What about that part of the station Pidge told us to find?” Allura asks.

Keith looks out at the enemy Lions, as if deciding what to do. He moves to intercept the Dark Blue Lion, which is gunning for Allura. The Dark Green Lion fires a crackling Violet shot from its mouth to stop Keith. He evades easily, but oddly the bolt of energy, once past him, loops back around to strike Keith’s Lion in the back.

Meanwhile, Allura fires three quick shots in succession, all of which are deftly avoided by her enemy. The Dark Blue LIon blasts Allura, sending her flying back.

The two Dark Lions are moving in, about to strike on their weakened foes. Before they get a chance, the Atlas flies in blasting both sending them tumbling backwards.

“Need a hand?” Shiro’s voice asks.

“Sure can!” Keith replies. “Just hold them as long as you can.”

“Roger that.” Shiro says raising both of the Atlas’ fists.

He flies up to meet the now charging Dark Lions, while Keith and Allura slip away, to further down the station.

***

Pidge dodges out of the way of Prince Lotor’s latest attack. He chases after her, wicked sword in hand, an even wicked her smile on his face. It is all Pidge can do to avoid getting her head taken off. Her armor already features many scores, where the blade has grazed her. Panic is in her eyes.

She keeps glancing back at the doorway, searching for a path to escape. She makes as if to duck around to the side of Lotor, then jumps back to dash around the other side.

Lotor sees through this, and puts a kick into Pidge’s gut that throws her halfway across the room. He back slams into the side of a server column. Pidge seethes with pain. Despite this, she manages to push herself up, and takes aim with her bayard. She fires at the open doorway, the green tethered blade sailing for freedom.

Lotor knocks the blade off course with his sword, then with his free hand grabs hold of the tether, and yanks hard. Pidge is dragged across the floor, sliding to a stop just in front of Lotor. He smiles down at her.

Pidge tries to scramble back up to her feet. Lotor slams a foot down into her chest, holding her there. The blow makes her cough and gasp for air.

“Finally.” Lotor sighs. “You Paladins of this reality are so slippery. Just when we think we’ve got a hold on you, you manage to worm yourselves away. Pathetic.”

While he is talking Pidge tries to drive the tip of her bayard into Lotor’s leg. Before she can he slams his other foot down onto her arm, pinning it.

“Do you know how much trouble you lot have cause me?” He sneers. “How many of my atleans I sacrificed, by sending them on futile attacks? How much of my father’s ire I earned with the failure at your hands? It's worse that you aren’t even very competent. You;re just children, playing at an adult’s game. We should have finished you off when we had the chance.”

“These...these children are gonna kick your ass!” Pidge glares up with defiance.

“I don’t think so.” Lotor says, lifting his sword.

He drives the blade down into Pidge’s shoulder. She screams. Blood starts to pool where the blade enters her suit. Pidge tries to squirm, but Lotor presses his foot down harder on her chest, making her gag. He leans down, so their faces are only about a foot away.

“You shouldn’t have come here alone. Maybe then you’d have stood a chance. Probably not, though. But to your credit, at least the only screams you’ll hear, when my mother questions you, will be your own.”

Pidge, with tears in her eyes, looks up with absolute terror at Lotor.

Suddenly, there is the sound of an energy rifle being fired.

Lotor leaps back, pulling his sword free as he does. A bolt of blue energy blasts into the column, where Lotor’s head had been just a moment prior.

“Don’t. You. Touch. HER!”

Lance stands in the doorway, rifle held in his grip, fury in his eyes.

“...Lance.” Pidge says with shock. She winces throwing a hand over the bloody wound on her shoulder. “L-Lance get out of here! He’ll kill you!”

Lotor smiles. “Your friend knows what she’s talking about. Go on then. Abandon her. Leave her to-”

Lance fires again, aiming for the Prince’s skull. Lotor blocks the shot with the edge of his sword. “...I was really hoping you’d do that.”

Lotor charges. Lance fires two more shots, both blocked by Lotor’s blade. Cursing, Lance lowers his rifle, and shifts it into a sword. Then, letting out a battle-cry, he meets Lotor’s charge.

Blades clash, throwing up sparks in their wake. Lance pushes the offense, throwing rage-fueled blow after rage-fueled blow. Lotor blocks, deflects and dodges each of the strikes. Lance continues to hammer down on Lotor, but the Prince moves like water, with none of the blows coming close to hitting.

“You really don’t know how to use that thing do you?” Lotor asks, amusement written on his face.

“Shut up!” Lance barks, swinging to take Lotor’s head off, but meeting only air.

Lotor deflect’s Lance’s next strike, an overextended thrust, and slams a fist into the boy’s ribs in reply. Lotor then steps forward, and lands a slice on Lance’s wrist. Lance retreats back, clutching his arm. He looks down to see his bracelet, the one Pidge made, in two broken pieces on the floor. He looks back up at Lotor, not masking the utter rage in his gaze, and raises his sword again,

“Lance stop!” Pidge cries out, struggling to sit up. “You can’t beat him! He’s been fighting with that sword longer than we’ve been alive!”

“You think I don’t know that!?” He retorts. “But like hell I’m going to use that as an excuse to leave you!”

Pidge can only stare, unable to muster a reply.

Growling, Lance charges at Lotor again. This time, the Prince does no playing around. Every strike Lance throws Lotor counters with one of his own. Lance thrust forward. Lotor parries, and lands a hit on his Lance’s arm. Lance swings overhead. Lotor blocks, and slams a foot into Lance’s chest. Lance tries a wild trio of blows, Lotor deflects each of them, before slicing into Lance’s side. Lance steps back, wincing from the shallow, but painful wounds.

Lotor pounces, unleashing an onslaught of sword strikes at Lance’s guard. Lance is barely able to defend, only partially blocking most of the strikes, and earning multiple scores along his armor, and some biting into the skin below. Lance is forced to retreat backwards, as Lotor’s flurry does not let up.

“Is this really all you can do!?” Lotor demands, sharp teeth revealed in a grin. “Is this all that this reality’s Paladins can offer!?”

Lotor smashes Lance’s sword to the side, and drives his own blade into Lance’s leg. Lance cries out, stumbling back into a column. He brings his sword back up, in a weak guard. Lotor chuckles and shakes his head. The Prince raises his sword and motions for Lance to come forward.

“Come on. Face your end like a man. I only need one of you.”

Narrowing his eyes Lance moves forward. He nearly stumbles, from the leg wound, as he strikes out.

“Pathetic.” Lotor knocks the blow aside.

Gritting his teeth, Lance strikes again.

“Weak.” Lotor uses a lazy backhand to fling Lance’s strike off course.

Yelling, Lance launches himself forward, for one more swing.

Lotor moves to sidestep the blow. “Honestly, you really are-”

Pidge fires her bayard along the floor, tether blocking Lotor’s feet.

Lotor stumbles, and for a moment his guard opens. Lance’s sword swings forward, slicing across one of Lotor’s eyes.

The Prince howls with back, stumbling back. He falls to his back, clutching his wounded eye, fury filling the other.

“Let’s go!” Pidge yells, running over to Lance. He stumbles, but she supports him as they dash for the exit.

Lotor lashes out, shifting his sword to a whip, but he just misses them, as they slip out the door.

“We’ve...gotta get out of here…” Lance says, wincing as he forced to run on his bad leg.

“This way!” Pidge say guiding them down a side hallway. She leads them to a large panel on the lower half of the wall. “Blast it.”

Lance complies, raising his bayard, shifting it to a rifle and firing. It blows apart the panel, showing a small vent beyond.

“Service tunnel. Short cut.” She explains in a tired voice. Lance nods weakly.

Clutching to each other, they leap down.

***

Keith and Allura blow apart the blast door holding the hanger close. They guide their Lions inside.

“Now what could be so important that...oh.” Keith says, seeing what lies in the hangar.

“It...it can’t be…” Allura gasps.

Sincline sits in the hangar. Galra workers scatter at the presence of the Lions, leaving the mecha behind.

“Lotor. Our Lotor. They...they freed him. Why? How?” Allura asks.

“Dunno, and at the moment, don’t care. Come on.” Keith flies his Lion up to Sincline.

“What are you doing?"

“Taking him with us. Friend or foe, we can’t let Zarkon use Lotor for whatever he’s got planned. Get the other arm.” Keith says, locking his Lion’s mouth around one of the mecha’s arms.

Allura hesitates for a long moment, staring at the Dark metal of Lotor’s mecha. “...you’re right.” She finally says. “We can’t leave him.”

She moves her Lion over to grab onto Sincline’s other arm, and together they haul the mecha out of the hangar.

***

Lance and Pidge move down the hallway, each keeping the other from stumbling and falling.

“...sorry about that bracelet you made for my hand. I broke it.” Lance laughs hollowly.

“I don’t care about that idiot!” Pidge scolds. “You almost just got yourself killed! What’d you do that for!?”

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffs. “And here I thought you said you’d be perfectly fine by yourself.”

“I’m serious!” She elbows him in the ribs. Both of them wince. “Sorry.” She apologizes.

“It's fine. What’s a little more pain, on top of the rest?”

Pidge gets a sick look. “...I mean it, though. Why did do that. Come rescue me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“That’s not an answer. We had the mission. I told you guys you should all get out. But then, not only did you come after me, but you tried to fight Lotor! With a sword! How insane do you have to be to do that!?”

“Oh come on, Pidge. As if I’d leave another Paladin behind.”

“And that’s just it?” Pidge scoffs. “You’d be and idiot and try to save any one of us in that situation? It’d be the exact same, and you’d do the same dumb thing?”

Lance seems to think about it. Pidge studies him as he ponders.

“...no.” He says finally. “I mean, yeah I’d still try to save them if it were Hunk or Allura or Keith. That’s just the kind of guy I am. But, no, it wouldn’t be the same.”

“Wh...what do you mean?”

“I mean, that when I saw you sitting there, blood on your armor, Lotor standing over you, I lost it. I just...I couldn’t stand the idea that I’d lose you.”

Pidge looks up, eyes widening.

He goes on:“In that moment, no one, not Lotor, not an army of galra soldiers, not even Zarkon himself wouldn’t have stopped me from trying to save you. You are the one person I can’t lose no matter what.” He looks down at her, as if having realized something for the first time.

For a moment, they just stand there staring at each other. Then, they both blush and avert their gazes. Pidge gaze flickers back to Lance, studying him one more time. She sighs.

“...dang you Matt.”

“Huh?” Lance asks.

“Nothing.” Pidge shakes her head. “I just...know something, now.”

***

Several minutes later, Lance and Pidge shamble past the scene of Hunk and Sendak’s fight. The two combatants slam powerful blows against each other, both looking beaten and weary. Despite this, Sendak is smiling.

“So you do have power! And here I thought there were no worth adversaries in this reality!”

“Well...sorry to cut things short then…” Hunk backs away to his retreating friends.

“It's not over yet!” Sendak sneers. He pulls back his fist to strike, and throws it towards Hunk, and the other retreating Paladins.

Hunk stands directly in front of it, and shifts his bayard into a shield. The fist bounces off. Sendak doesn’t even look mad, as Hunk slams the door shut and destroys the panel

“What happened to you guys!?” Hunk asks as the run.

“Lotor.” Pidge winces. “He was waiting.”

“I…” Lance cringes as he steps too hard with his bad leg. “...had to come in and save the say, as usual.”

Hunk eyes them warily but doesn’t question them further. He runs inside Yellow, while Lance and Pidge stumble into Red.

“Drop me off at Green.” Pidge says.

“Can you fly like you are?” He asks, nodding to her shoulder.

“I’ll...be fine.” She says, covering the wound.

Reluctantly, Lance nods, and pulls the Blue Lion out of the hangar bay. He dodges the odd fighter as he brings Lion around the station, to where Pidge directs.

Pidge hits a button on her wrist and the Green Lion appears. She moves to leave the Blue Lion, then stops. Then, she spins around and hugs Lance from the back of his chair.

“...thank you, Lance. For saving me.” She whispers.

Lance blushes and lets out a strangled cough. “You uh...you saved me too. So, really I think we’re even.”

“I...guess so.”

Then, before either of the can say anything more, Pidge pulls back, and turns to leave. She jumps out of one Lion, and into the other.

Back inside her own Lion, Pidge immediately winces as she tries to move the throttle with her bad arm. “Gonna be a fun ride home…” She opens her other hand, and allows a slight smile. She still holds the drive.

“Keith...I got it. Mission was a success.”

Then, gritting her teeth, she pushes the Lion into motion.

She rejoins the rest of the now retreating Coalition forces. There is still some exchanging of fire, but the Coalition breaks away, and one by one, jump out of sight.

***

Prince Lotor watches them go. His right eye now shut, with a deep cut running through it. Sendak, Raimon and Honvera are also in the room, watching the display.

“Zarkon will not be pleased.” Sendak notes.

Honerva’s eye twitches ever so slightly at this comment.

“No...he wont.” Lotor turns around, facing the others. “Which is why I won’t be here when he arrives.”

“Running, Prince?” Sendak asks. “That is...unlike you.”

“Not running.” Lotor shakes is head. “But I’m not going back to him empty handed, either.”

“What then?” Honvera asks.

“I think...I’ll have to go after them myself.” Lotor says, as if coming to a decision. “We know where they are now, and I think I’ve begun to understand how they think. It’ll take a subtler touch. I don’t think I’ll manage it alone. They seem to work well together...” He rubs his new scar, absently. “...Raimon?”

“...yes?” The armored man replies.

“Will you come with me?”

The man does not reply.

“Sendak is occupied with the armies. My mother is occupied elsewhere. It's just you and me. The two ones Zarkon hasn’t deemed fit more much else.”

Still, Raimon remains silent.

“Oh come on. I know you’ve got your dedication to Zarkon, but he hasn’t give you orders yet. If he hasn’t given you orders you can’t defy him, right?”

Raimon gives the barest of nods.

“Then come with me. The two of us, we can show Zarkon why he needs us, what we bring to the table. We might even deliver the critical blow to our enemy in the process. What do you say, old friend?”

Raimon seems to hesitate, as if torn. After a long pause he finally says in a quiet voice: “...I will join you.”

“Good.” Lotor says, narrowing his good eye. “Let’s go hunting.”

#plance #pigdance #pance #garden #voltron #lance #pidge #hunk #lotor #prince lotor #season eight #fixitfic #fix it fic #voltron legendary defender #katie holt #lance mcclain #theplanciestepisodeyet

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mariasmugglemusings · 4 years ago

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Mise en scene and Cinematography

The film I Am Mother, directed by Grant Sputore, came out in 2018. The film stars three main characters: Mother, Daughter, and Woman, and takes place almost entirely in a bunker where Daughter and Mother live. The cinematographic element of setting or lack of setting framed the way this movie was shot. As there was little variety between the rooms, all had the same dark walls and metallic look, and all the chairs were not made for comfort. Still, for stability, it is apparent it was not created as a home for a human, although Mother claims that humans created Mother and the bunker in case there was ever the need to give humanity a second chance. Therefore, she says humans created the bunker. This is unlikely because it looks all machine-based and has no sentimental anything or colors. When humans build anything, even if it is just for function, we like to personalize it to make it our own. Whether making drawings or having sentimental objects or colors that make us happy, it looks more like the inside of a military place than a safehouse created by humans. Because there was not much variety in the film's location, so the film crew, cinematographer, and director (Grant Sputore) needed to be creative in the way they filmed. The light is an essential element to all of the shots in this movie. Although the bunker was underground, there was a clear day and night. It appears that there was no additional lighting used for camera work other than the lights that were in the bunker. The set had LED lights that cast gloomy-looking shadows on the walls showing the loneliness and isolation the Daughter experiences throughout the film.

The first scene I am analyzing of I Am Mother is the opening scene. In this, you start to feel a very technologically advanced area with little human presence because of the lack of brighter lighting and the silence broken only by the quiet music in the background. The LED lights used in this scene are the only source of lighting and flicker in the background. One of the only consistent light sources is Mother. Mother has a light-up eye in the middle of her robotic head. There is a minimal color other than typical LED colors of green, yellowish/white, and a bit of blue. The scene starts in a bluish, white light that surrounds a doorway that the camera travels through until, in the distance, another LED flickers on. We watch Mother being assembled by the robotic arms, and she is silhouetted in front of blue lights that appear to be small buttons. As Mother is being built, the camera slowly revolves around her, focusing on the robotic arms' tasks to create Mother (putting the screws in).

The distinct moment where the Daughter's embryo is taken out of storage by Mother is an important scene. It shows Mother's true nature as a robot. Mother obtains the embryo by scanning her robot "thumbprint" and then a container of embryos emerges from the table. The pale pink flesh color of the embryo stands in contrast to the very technical look of Mother and the bunker. When Mother removes the embryo from the others, the scene is lit by Mother's eyes in the background, although the picture is focused on the embryo. I feel that this was don't to provide light but to show us Mother and how she approaches taking care of Daughter for the first time. Many of the shots are close-ups to show what is going on in the scene. Because of the mechanical elements, without having extreme close-ups of Mother's assembly, her removal of Daughter as an embryo from the glass container, and the last image before the scene fades into darkness is of the embryo. Mother does not watch what is happening with it once she loads it into the machine that will develop it. This is a crucial moment to show that Mother lacks human emotions. While she behaves maternally in the film and has a calming voice, she does not watch Daughter once she is put into the machine. Most mothers would protect their child or, at the very least, would oversee the only living thing there. The lack of attention Mother gives at the end of this scene sets the tone for the movie about how Mother was programmed.

The second scene I decided to analyze was when Mother is instructing Daughter. In her studies, Daughter is given hypothetical questions posed by Mother. One is if there was a doctor and he had five dying patients, and another man comes in who is an organ match for the 5, should the doctor take care of him and let the others die, or should the doctor sacrifice the one man's life for the sake of the 5. This is a very philosophical question being posed to Daughter. While she is in this classroom, it helps the viewer empathize with Daughter because she looks bored and tired. She is asked by Mother, who is serving as her teacher if she had done the reading. Daughter replied she did some. This is a very human characteristic that Daughter is showing, which is the ability to make her own decisions. As Mother poses these questions to her Daughter, the Daughter is torn when Mother changes the scenario to be if Daughter was the doctor and the person who needed healing? Would she sacrifice herself? Daughter responds with, is, does she know the other people? Are they good humans, or are they thieves and dishonest? Being in a Philosophy class my freshman year of college, I was posed with a similar question. However, my first thought is not the type of people the others who are dying are. All I thought of them was dying humans. This scene is exciting because Mother plays devil's advocate with Daughter to get her to feel.

Moving onto the mise-en-scene and cinematography used, Daughter sits in a room with chairs lined up in rows, like a traditional classroom. Mother stands at the front of a screen comprised of LED images. It is strange to see Daughter all by herself when there are seats for others to be there. This makes the viewer wonder if there are other humans somewhere in the bunker or outside of it or other children raised by Mother in the past. While Daughter ignores this, it is unsettling for the viewer.

The scene is lit primarily by the lights on the "board" at the front of the classroom. Daughter is also dressed in a uniform, which is strange because Mother put Daughter in a uniform if it wasn't a sci-fi movie where Mother was the antagonist. All of these small elements make the viewer suspicious of Mother. The most Mother comes to life in this scene is when she goes over to Daughter to put a comforting robotic hand on her shoulder to settle her down after mentioning there will be a test. The other is Mother's main eye in the center and two smaller lights below that act somewhat like a mouth, that curve as Mother speaks. This gives Mother somewhat human features. And the eye she does have moves along as mother talks and tracks Daughter. But, again, this is a human movement and shows the complexity of Mother's mechanics.

Overall the movie does a good job of using lighting and limited amounts of props and colors to show the bunker as an area not created for humans to live in long term. The flickering lights are something that daughter notices at random points throughout the movie, but Mother never recognizes or cares about. These subtitle differences between Mother as a caregiver who is a robot and just a robot, how she does not care the way she claims to. Daughter’s emotions are visible and she is easy to read. Mother is machine and the director subtilty reminds us of this throughout the film.

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brilliantorinsane · 7 years ago

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The Speckled Band (1931): a.k.a. Sherlock Wilde

Note: For this meta I tagged everyone who reblogged earlier posts in the series. However, as I certainly don’t want to shove my work at anyone who isn’t interested, from this point forward I will only only tag individuals who have shown continued interest by reblogging multiple posts, or who have specifically asked to be tagged. Thank you to anyone who has been or continues to be interested in any part of this series <3

Guys, I did it. I found the Gayest Holmes. Not the best Holmes, nor the best adaptation by any stretch of the imagination; but most definitely the gayest. Well, okay, the most stereotypically gay, and one of the most nearly confirmed as such in the explicit text of the film—a fact which has me reeling given that this film was released in 1931.

This is the third installment of my series on obscure Holmes adaptations and their depiction of our beloved duo both individually and in relation to each other. For the first two installments, see below:

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (Stoll Pitures, 1921–1923)

The Speckled Band on Stage: Yep, Still Gay

Production and Reception:

[Spoilers ahead. But unless you want to avoid spoiling the ACD cannon story The Speckled Band or his play of the same name, I wouldn’t worry about it. There’s really nothing worth spoiling in this film]

This adaptation, released the year after Doyle’s death, is derived less from the cannon story of the same name than from a stage adaptation also written by Doyle. The play is wonderful, featuring a genuinely chilling villain, well-realized side characters, laugh-out-loud humor, the best Holmes and Watson, and allllll the gay subtext. You can read the script here, and my discussion of the play is linked above.

Unfortunately, the filmmakers’ 5 step adaptation plan appears to have been the following:

1. Keep the bare bones of the play, including some of the name changes, the emphasis on the Rylott household, etc.

2. Take the play’s uncomfortable undertone of Orientalism and make it the film’s prevailing atmosphere, then add casual pro-slavery rhetoric, just ‘cause.

3. Remove approximately 3/4s of what made Doyle’s script so good, then creatively undermine, dilute, and/or convolute the remaining 1/4.

4. Hire a promising actor to play Holmes, and then give him minimal interesting content.

5. Hire the actor who played Rylott in the stage play, because it can’t hurt to have one good thing.

Yeah … I’m exaggerating, but its not good. Which is disappointing on many levels, because it would have been fascinating to know how a flagrantly gay Holmes would have fared in the early 1930s. But as it is, this adaptation fails on so many levels that it seems impossible to theorize whether homophobia played a significant role in the fact that it made scarcely any impact in its day and has been entirely forgotten now. Sure, homophobia might have aided the process of erasure, but this film didn’t need any help sinking into oblivion.

Nevertheless, although the blaring racism makes it difficult to fully appreciate the filmmaker’s courage in not abandoning the play’s subtext, it is still worth being aware that filmmakers were paying attention to and actively portraying the ACD cannon subtext as early as 1931.

Raymond Massey as Sherlock Holmes

It really is a pity that this film didn’t give Raymond Massey the chance to show what he could have done with Sherlock Holmes. In his book Sherlock Holmes on Screen, Alan Barns argues that Massey might have created a Holmes to rival all his contemporaries, and whenever he appeared I paid close attention, always feeling as if he were about to get interesting. Unfortunately, he never quite did.

Massey’s Holmes spends the majority of the film in a deeply lethargic state. Depressive moods are as much a part of Sherlock’s character as his boundless curiosity, and I would have found it a rather interesting portrayal if he had ever woken up from his stupor. But although he has flashes of intensity, in the end he lounges about the crime scene as listlessly as he does 221B. Further, because we know too little about this Holmes to understand his lethargy, he never quite solidifies into a concrete or compelling individual.

In dearth of anything else, the most interesting thing about this Holmes is that he is definitely, definitively, flagrantly gay. To Massey’s credit, this is instantly apparent—my initial impression that, “wow, this Holmes is kinda a lazy dick,” was paralleled with a rather flabbergasted, “wait … is he playing him as gay???”

If I’d seen Massey’s Holmes without context, I may well have thought I was watching a film about Oscar Wilde—the stereotypical epitome of Victorian homosexuality. Even Barns, who has excellent things to say about Holmes adaptations but seems vaguely allergic to discussing the detective’s sexuality, describes Massey’s Holmes as an “aesthete” and speaks of his “almost Oscar Wilde approach” (266). And all of that registers before Holmes starts examining his fingernails, resting his hand on Watson’s leg a good few inches above his knee, and talking about marriage. But we will return to that last point shortly.

Athole Stewart as John Watson

Stewart as Watson in this film is … fine. Even good, comparatively speaking—Stewart’s Watson is hearty and kind and is not portrayed as an idiot, which really is an anomaly at this stage of Holmes adaptations. This is probably due in large part to his excellent role in Doyle’s stage play. Unfortunately, the film consistently sets up Watson’s strengths only to erase them.

Watson in the film is kind to Helen—that’s the one good quality that doesn’t get undermined. So, yay. But while in the play Watson stands up against Rylott’s tyrannical demands when he is summoned to examine the body of the first murdered sister, the film begins to replicate that scene only to have Watson give in after his initial protest. In both the play and film he initially appears to be a decidedly intelligent man who guesses exactly what is going on in the the Rylott household, but in the film this is undermined by his subsequent conversation with Holmes, in which it appears that he was entirely clueless and took everything at face value after all. The film makes an interesting but half-hearted attempt at introducing modern technology into 221B, and most of this has been installed by Watson; but Holmes finds it essentially useless for his work and relies on different tools entirely. In the play Watson himself kills the snake; in the film he … shines a light so Holmes can attack it.

In short, Stewart’s Watson goes through the motions of being a partner, but he is never quite allowed to do anything useful.

So … What About Johnlock?

Eh. I guess?

By all rights an adaptation with a gay Holmes ought to at least have one-sided unrequited Johnlock. But while its clear that Holmes is gay, it is not clear that he is in love with Watson.

Beyond the character’s aestheticism, mannerisms, and thigh grab, evidence of Holmes’s sexuality is blatantly but clumsily contained in two brief exchanges with Watson regarding Helen’s marriage to her fiancee. The first comes at the end of Holmes’s first scene, when he abruptly asks Watson to inform him when Helen becomes engaged, with an intensity which demonstrates some emotional investment in the event.

My initial (annoyed) assumption was that they were going to make Holmes out to be in love with Helen. But when Helen comes to Holmes for help two years later, it is clear that they have never met. Nor is there anything in Holmes’s treatment of her to imply some creepy at-a-distance infatuation. And yet we are definitely supposed to pay attention to his preoccupation with the wedding, because the final scene consists of Watson announcing Helen’s engagement to Glen Sternum, to which Holmes responds: “I was afraid that might happen.” Then when Watson, taking Holmes’s response for generalized cynicism, leaves the room with the amused assertion that “we all come to it [i.e. marriage],” Holmes waits until he is gone to respond with a melancholy, “not all, my dear Watson. Not all.” And that, apart from a final line about filing away the details of the case, is the end.

So what are we to make of Holmes’s sorrowful preoccupation with Helen’s marriage? Honestly, I’ve been unable to work it out. Is it is meant to refer to a generalized inability to attach a girl? But there’s no hint of that in the plot; and besides, why then would he be so concerned with this particular marriage? No, it makes more sense to suppose that Holmes’s queer-coded mannerisms are fully intentional, and he knows he will never marry because society will not allow him to marry a man. So was he afraid that Watson, a good friend of the family, might marry her? But then why is he still so sorry when she marries someone else? Is he secretly in love with the man she married (who, fun fact, is a slave-owner)??? Weirdly enough, that is my only theory which doesn’t directly contradict any of the facts, although it would make for incredibly vague and sloppy storytelling.

Just to complicate this further, Doyle’s play also contains a subplot about Holmes being sorrowful about a marriage (although the sorrow is a bit more subtextual)—but in the play it is Watson’s marriage. So basically … the filmmakers appear to have gotten the “Holmes is upset about Watson’s marriage because Holmes is in love with him but cannot marry a man because Homophobia” subtext, but—perhaps because showing Holmes being openly sorrowful over Watson’s marriage felt too obvious?—they clumsily redirected Holmes’s sorrow to a different marriage with which he textually has no connection.

As for Watson, there’s not much to say. There is an odd line in which Holmes asks Watson whether the housekeeper was good-looking and Watson answers “no” before pausing and, with an air of surprise, amending, “yes.” This could be seen as indicating that he is uninterested in the attractiveness of women. (This would make him out to be gay and not bi, which I suppose makes sense for the time). But it could just as easily be put down to the film’s sloppy writing, and if Watson is gay his cheery assurance that he and Holmes both will come round to marriage in the end indicates that he is entirely unaware of it, so … *shrugs.*

In conclusion: this film was probably made by people who Knew, at least about Holmes, but instead of creating Johnlock they gave us a Holmes who is almost definitely gay but only maybe in love with Watson; he could just as easily be in love with a slave-owner he never sees during the film or be sad about not being able to marry a man in general. Then they tossed in a narratively irrelevant Watson who might maybe possibly be gay but he definitely doesn’t know it.

It’s a mess.

Conclusion: Should You Watch It?

I mean … you could. A decent-ish recording is available on YouTube here. But while I feel like we ought to be aware of this first (as far I know) stumbling attempt at subtext, I’m not trying to talk anyone into watching it. If you’re interested in Raymond Massey’s portrayal of Holmes I suggest just skipping to his scenes, which add up to slightly over half of the 50min film. In particular I recommend his first scene, from 7.15–12.35, and the final scene, which begins at 47.30. And if you find a more coherent means of interpreting Holmes’s lines about marriage, please do let me know!

Well then. Yep. That is a thing. Which exists.

The End

@devoursjohnlock @thespiritualmultinerd @ellinorosterberg @kajepan @spenglernot @materialofonebeing @possiblyimbiassed @oysters-and-gingernuts @sosukana @maniclemons @materialof1being @persnicketypea @cuttydarke @newshea @a-candle-for-sherlock @tjlcisthenewsexy @sarahthecoat @the-elephant-is-pink @bluebluenova @hewascharming @battledress @cumberlocked221 @victorianfantasywatson @sherlockisgayaf @alemizu @infodumpingground @believein-johnlock @disregardedletters @accuratebutunsystematic @artemisastarte @inevitably-johnlocked

#the speckled band 1931 #sherlock flim #Raymond Massey #Athole Stewart #sherlock holmes #John watson #johnlock #film adaptation #film criticism

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stone-man-warrior · 4 years ago

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January 26, 2021: 2:41 pm:

>>>======================================> >-Io +

https://twitter.com/BorisJohnson/status/1354112682329300992

That update explains how a Medicare Part-D MAX is done in USA. I suspect the same kind of system is done in UK with nhs.

I watched the whole thing, it says a lot more than I am going to say, the communication is done with repetitive stuttering, some subtle edits that were put in after the broadcast, double speak “white man speak with fork tongue” sort of what I used to say was “Word Magic” is a “Alternate Use of English Language” for saying terror commands, includes stance and body language minimally.

MAX Part-D Medicare, is the maximum allowable prescribed number of pills for a given medication.

The Screen Actor Guild terror leadership has developed a system by and through hijacked Social Security in USA, where disabled and elderly US Citizens are hunted down, killed, replaced with Canadian terror soldiers, and that is why it’s important to see that I O Downing is saying command orders in UK, for activity that happens in USA. Canada is ruled by Britain, so, what I O Downing says, is heard by Trudeau in Canada, so he can make arrangements to happen in USA, through US Music Industry top terror command leaders.

The MAX Part-D arrangement happens when a citizen goes to a doctor. All of the doctors are either dead, or are held captive and forced to participate in serving the terror army, and SAG. Many of the people who claim to be doctors, are not doctors, they are at the medical facility, but are terrorists wearing a white coat, and have a stethoscope, took over the medical facility, and their terror cell associates are all trained to run the front and back offices the same way that real receptionists run the offices. It’s all fake. Some of the medical facilities are SAG specific, they serve SAG, others are kill zones, where citizens are murdered.

There is a number of Medicare rules that must be adhered to so that the arrangement is not red flagged, all is made to look above the board and looks legit.

The Patient goes to the doctor, is disabled, has serious health issues, was recently referred to a new doctor, goes there. The new doctor is not familiar with the patient, and prescribes a remedy for Arthritis. The patient is confused about that, needs better treatment plan. Patient fills the arthritis Motrin prescription at the pharmacy, where more terror soldiers are at. They see the Motrin was prescribed for Aarrggthhhwritus... a condition when someone talked about the terror army online to try to get help. The pharmacy arranges a lot of terror pirates to go follow, learn more about the Aarrrggthwritus patient. They kill the patient at their home.

A replacement is sent, Trudeau makes arrangements in Canada for that, while Nancy Sinatra makes arrangements in USA based on “cast characteristic attributes” necessary to find a “Reasonable Facsimile Thereof” the original victim.

The victim is replaced with a Canadian terror soldier, one who will vote the way Nancy Sinatra says to vote, for specific candidates that SAG leadership arranges on ballots at election times.

SAG takes the helm of the Medicare Patient’s Health Records and care after that, and an actor portrays the patient at future doctor appointments.

Meanwhile, that Motrin prescription is the key that unlocks the communication with the fake doctor who prescribed it. The Actor simply calls the doctor to say that the prescription is not sufficient, and asks for reconsideration for more helpful remedy for ailments.

That is the magic. That call, takes a existing prescription, and modifies it, to include more, better meds. There are rules that prevent medicine prescriptions from electronic transport to a pharmacy, so, a “Modified” prescription is not a loophole, but is an “Eyelet” (isle let) where the needle is threaded through the legal mumbo jumbo, and into a MAX Prescription allowable of narcotic pain meds, such as 10mg Morphine, Xanax 10mg, Oxycodone variety mg. and “V’s” or Vicodin (norco 10/325mg), Valium 10mg is also a favorite of the actors, musicians, clowns, and magicians who benefit from this arrangement.

It’s called “ClubMed” in USA. I don‘t know what the British equivalent is called.

Although I did not say those details exactly correct, I do know many different ways that ClubMed makes the arrangements to fill MAX prescriptions, on the graves of the elderly and disabled people they have been killing, so that they have this enormous pool of prescription medicines available to them for free, is consistently replenished each month as the actor/fake patient gets their prescriptions filled at the SAG doctor in the name of a murdered victim, who no one knows is dead.

That “Modified Script” is one of the keys to making the system work without being red flagged in certain geographic areas. There are too many ways that the Medicare Part-D system is hijacked, performed. The reality is that the Democrat Political Party invented Medicare Part-D especially for the kill & replace system of US Takeover. The Part-D’s primary function is to provide a platform by and through which, to kill & replace elderly and disabled US citizens, while at the same time, serving SAG members with their drug preferences for getting high.

The Boris Report says some of that in code. The basics are in what is said by those three idiots, all coded in that report is the plan, and it specifically spells out that there will be a patient, a original prescription, then a kill & replace, then a modified prescription. That specifically was said in code. The tweeted terror commands say a lot more than that, but the part I pointed out is not difficult to decode, others can see what I am seeing if they know what they are looking for to start with, so keep watching that video until to see a plan where a patient gets prescription, is killed, is replaced, and the prescription is modified. Then, you will be prepared to see more.

Generally speaking, what used to be called “Loopholes”, are now “Eye Lets” (Isle Lets; Eyelets) and are crafted into legislation for a surgically precise way to thread a needle through the legal jargon safely, are very complex set-up work for terror later on.

==================

4:07 pm:

Other related terror:

Some of the Canadian terror soldiers are trained with medieval terror warfare ways. They make and use olde world contraptions designed and fitted with modern electronics and other technology.

So, when they capture a federal agent who is investigating the terrorism, the terror army is backed and supported by the government leaders who sent them to do the investigating, very strange concept to wrap your head around.

I explained a little about some torturing that includes a disemboweling of a victim in yesterday’s post. I need to make this clear about that.

The terrorists took over the hospitals.

They have access to the surgical drugs.

The torture is done painlessly.

The victim is visually shown that their intestines are contained in a bucket that they are holding, after the disemboweling happens.

The victim may be offered a chance to make a phone call to their boss at Federal Investigator HQ.

The victim has his or her intestines all tied in knots, and makes the call to the boss, and explains: “My stomach is all tied in knots, I am stuck in a chair”

The boss says: “stop your belly aching, and get back to work”.

The phone call ends there.

The guy told the boss exactly what is happening, and the boss does not understand, did not do his own research, and trusted the people who are doing the torturing of the federal investigator, who is farmed of information enough that the terror army can go there to the HQ, get inside, and take over yet another agency, and run it the same way that the real agents did, except as a terror protection service, rather than a public safety service.

====================

4:35 pm:

This fucking thing again:

The dreaded Norton Internet Security Pop Up Window notification.

This one is new, haven‘t seen that one before.

The Symantec products are fake, they keep a persons computer in a state of usefulness that suits the terror army.

There are numerous tools Symantec has access to for getting inside of any computer that is running the Norton, or other Symantec products.

Google Chrome Browser is not an option for use if you want to stay alive, and the Firefox Browser is “Open Source” technology, so, that one is wide open to global terror, while the Internet Explorer Browser was hijacked at the time the thing became a news item when Bill Gates was arguing with fake congress about it’s inclusion as part of the operating system twenty years ago, so, no one is safe to use internet in any way at all. The terror is layered with terrorism on top of other terrorism. They do that, so that federal investigators have plenty of stuff to use time to figure out where the problems are at, then, when the federal investigators find one problem, they have an awards ceremony, pat each other on the back for what a great job they all did while working together as a team effort, to solve the worlds problems. But all they did was kill a fly on the droppings made by Godzilla. They need to kill Godzilla, not the fly on the droppings he makes.

===============

4:54 pm:

Local weather:

This is the time of year of the annual Pacific Power three day celebratory Power Outage.

In about... tomorrow, or just about when the roads are all covered with enough snow that the snow plow’s have to come out, that is when the power will be shut off remotely with the Pacific Power Smart Meter App.

There will be no heat, and people like me, cannot get firewood.

Happens every year.

They do it intentionally.

(1-27-2021: 8:27 pm: I have to spell this out: People like me are people who have not signed up for the Smart Phone, refuse to sign up to become a Christian terror pirate. People who have tried to get help for stopping the terror bastards from continuing to capture, enslave, kill large groups of citizens. People like me are people who are shot at when they go outside, are run over with a truck when they check their mail, and if they try to cut some firewood in preparation for the impending annual Smart Meter Power Outage, that is a perfect time for the terror bastards to sneak up while the saw is running, to expose the victims with poison gas, take their chainsaw, and use is against them, while claiming that it was just a horible farm accident to blame the victim for his or her being cut into bits. That is who people like me are. There are not many of us around anymore, all got run over, shot, and cut up with chain saws, or, just tossed into the giant blender at the Walmart that we tried to report in the first place, turned into erosion abatement seed product on the roadsides.)

=============

5:02 pm:

Also, the dead terror soldier in the driveway last night is suspected to have been a crew from Mock’s Ford Dealership on 6th Street and is also on 7th Street in Grants Pass.

Best guess, was Tom Smith, service manager terror soldier.

=============

5:32 pm:

Power went out, just for a second.

CBS Twitter account and some others are making arrangements today for a bigger power outage to happen.

The theme is:

“Can you hear me now?” old Verizon Wireless commercial when people in trucks. on foot, in helicopters, some repel from them, guys are all on the power poles, cell towers, the tech guru makes sure the customer’s phone is working, someone is checking for a signal in access box on the road by the freeway... “Can You Hear Me Now?” is a favorite of Screen Actor Guild, they use that when someone reports about the actors, musicians, clowns, and magicians that are killing everyone. There are engineers, and book keepers, and doctors, SAG has the best lawyers in the world, they have people who walk their dogs, and they have captive Mexican Housekeepers, and Gardener’s who help to make their lives comfortable as they kill the US Citizens, rape the young boys and girls, and as they torture the elderly and disabled people so they can get the meds for getting high, so, “Can You Hear Me Now?” is one of their all time favorites to use after they make sure that the person has had to run that Gauntlet a few times that I talked about yesterday.

When national security is ready to arrest Betty White, and Tom Hanks, that is when they will be ready to protect USA. Until then, they are just jacking off.

====

That, and a small airplane was flying over my house at the time the snow blizzard was making the most snow... flying around in circles in a snow blizzard, low, and slow. That means the Beachcraft King Air Twin Turbo Prop from Pelican Bay Del Norte County Regional Airport & Submarine Base was here. Those guys are the most skilled of all of the pilots I have seen. They can fly in a hurricane. The airport at Pelican Bay was purposefully built in the shape of a cross directly on the beach, just so only the most skilled pilots are the only ones who can use the airport there.

Reminder: Pelican Bay is no longer a prison. It serves some other purpose. There is a submarine there buried in the sand out front, and a sewage treatment plant that does not show on Google Map.

Can You Hear Me Now?

==================

6:17 pm:

https://twitter.com/ABCNewsLive/status/1354192014011736067

"We now have a national strategy to beat COVID-19. It's comprehensive. It's based on science, not politics. It's based on truth, not denial,"

Perspective is required to see he is talking from a defensive position, to defend an offensive march forward toward global domination.

Do “devils advocate” when reading or listening to news.

You can see that the statements all work equally well from either position, one of an attacker, and one of a defender.

“... it’s going to require congress to pass the American Rescue Plan ...”

First thing, is America is on three continental areas. north, south, and central.

He said nothing, if he did not say United States of America Rescue Plan.

Then “To Pass”... if there is a plan to help people, then, “To Pass”, is “To Die”, so, we can‘t trust that statement.

He mentions that whatever he is up to, will take time, because measurements are necessary, so, it’s a E = MC² where some workable Democrat style Gnosis lies need to be crafted by SAG Writers Guild first, so that the measuring cannot effectively take place, as the lies gain momentum at a rate that exponentially doubles each time someone gets near them, spinning the observers into a perpetual chase scene. The Chase Scene, is JP Morgan Chase Bank terror funding, as Joe seems pressured, seems as though the Trump Brigade pulled the rug of Democrat/SAG terror funding out from under Joe. He needs to “Measure” where some money to feed and house his terror army is going to come from. He will (who ever is really there) will be speaking with Vatican sources for creative funding, is my guess. Treasury & Reserve are probably drained.

His statements about “Parish”, combined with “Pass American Rescue Plan“ seems close enough to me to say that the “ABC news Live” Twitter presentation is in itself a reach out to Vatican Bank sources.

“... Ya know, despite our best intentions, we are going to face set backs ...”

nitrous oxide = “Ya know”

The sentence does not make sense at face value.

This gets complicated to explain here.

“American Rescue Plan“: “Res Cue” = (native) Reservation Cue = “Line up the attack”

Then, “best intentions” = “A Tee-Pee” or “Wig-Wam” at the reservation.

Then, “set-backs” = 30 feet usually, from the road side, to your front door, is the set-back. Some areas specify the set-back is measured from the center of the road, and makes more sense to me, most of the time, not all of the time, but with increased measurement distance, more than 30 feet.

Point being, that the rehearsed statements put a pirate ship armed with nitrous oxide on the front lawns of some locations, somewhere. I suspect schools are part of the Joe Biden American Rescue Plan, where the schools turn into a reservation of sorts, but it’s wide open, could be anywhere, and, is all old news filmed twenty years ago... is old, I don‘t know how long ago it was filmed, but the Joe Biden terror is all Time Warp terror. There is someone else at the WH, is Ann Wilson doing remote terror leadership from Kauai Ranch presently, while illusion is purpetuated by news media in league with her, and the rest of the Vatican Choir that is “Amp Guru”, or “The Jim Dunlop aboard the Flying V Pirate Ship”, or whatever you need to call it in order to understand it. They call it “The Jim Dunlop aboard the Flying V” and “Amp Guru” is their HQ, or “port of call” or some other way of saying the collective group of terror musicians who are running everything that is USA, directly into the rocky shoreline and corral reefs.

The old rerun videos serve as terror orders the same when they are fresh, as they do on the second or third presentation. The video was part of Beta Twitter, 2008, was already filmed, edited, ready to use at that time.

Beta Twitter was used for taking over Oregon. Here, in 2008, news showed that Donald Trump was president at that time. They ran the same Twitter time line then at fast forward, a rate of about 10 years within two years. Beta Twitter moved along at a much faster pace. Real-time current stories are inserted into the time line along with the prearranged time line, collective, of all of the “Verified Accounts”. The inserted ones served as a “patch” for a possible glitch, to repair an unforeseeable thing, and they serve as real time messaging buried in news stories, and more. I don’t have all of the answers.

The truth, the Twitter Time Line we are seeing now, was written in screenplay form, as far back as 1992. Careful planning took place, and there were people who knew of the future emergence of Twitter back then, in California, way before it was rolled out as Beta Twitter, and before it’s public release in 2009.

For that reason, it’s useless to comment further about the Joe Biden tweet from “ABC news Live”.

Time Warp terror includes that some of the vehicles that are said to be new designs for a given year model, were already being made in small quantity ten or more years before they were mass produced, all in effort to help create the Time Warp terror videos. That is how big the terror army is, big enough to throttle automotive design and production, hold it back for ten years after producing some samples of the new designs so that they could be in the videos.

Go to Kauai Ranch, to find and apprehend global terror leadership, in the present day.

WH and Congress is all bait at this point.

================================

7:51 pm:

Vehicle time warp throttling is based on this truck, the Holy Grail off road vehicle of all time:

This one is a 1965 Dodge Power Wagon:

This one is a 1958 Dodge Power Wagon:

But this is the styling of the 1965 Dodge Pick Up truck:

The Power Wagon between 1958 and 1965 stayed the same, as the design progression over time continued to evolve on the rest of the Dodge truck fleet.

That is where the basis for the throttling of more contemporary models was developed from. The notion that the Power Wagon did not change over time was a inspiration to the terror army that they could produce vehicles in small numbers way ahead of the actual production run.

There may be more to this story, I know that much.

Chrysler became an early target of terror pirates just because of the name is Chrysler.

===========================================

8:32 pm:

Some points of interest:

Unique spelling for Diana Ross here, to the right of the Wiki page:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conversations_with_Michael_Eisner

Do Math:

jn = C

i = <o>

You can figure out the rest on your own.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diana_ijn_jnRoss

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Eisner

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lee_Iacocca

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walt_Disney_Imagineering

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_management_of_The_Walt_Disney_Company

The URL splits on it’s own here, maybe is a “Earl” sort of statement. 7-11 Split at WTC 2001 early warning, comes late in the game.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_management_of_The_Walt_Disney_Company

My guess is that the “Conversations with Micheal Eisner” is a bait entry in the Wikipedia, and other places online. I don’t recommend searching for that, it seems to me as a way for Google to determine, and flush out, track, locate people who are interested in Charlie Rose, where the real meat of the corporate interviews is at. Google will be wanting to know who goes the extra mile beyond Charlie Rose, into the Micheal Eisner world. It would be a thing that separates a casual search from a investigative one, and Google can track those people who go too far, and that page seems as too far at Wikipedia. Proceed with caution.

It seems as though what is happening with the “Conversations with Micheal Eisner” Wikipedia page, is, that someone doing Disney research or online investigative work about Disney, and/or Micheal Eisner at Disney, will arrive there in their efforts to learn more about Micheal Eisner and Disney. As I recall, Mr. Eisner also had his hands into the Major League Baseball in some way, but my memory is washed out from years of captivity and exposure to poison gasses by the local terrorists of Oregon. However, that Conversation with Micheal Eisner, of Disney, pretty much tells investigative persons to “Die on a Cross” once the math is done by savvy sleuths who are interested in knowing more about Mr. Michael Eisner of Disney. Micheal says: “Die on a Cross” to those who investigate Disney, with a tongue in cheek sort of dead pan humor.

With such little information available there at that Wikipedia page about something called a Conversation with Micheal Eisner, my read is that Micheal Eisner of Disney, is pretty much saying that there is some kind of Dead End right there, but, I cannot read Mr. Eisner’s mind, so, I am not absolutely certain, maybe he would like to discuss the matter of the Dead End in person that is perceived while enjoying some internet browsing for Disney related items.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xLfwo8luyZk