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vaguely-concerned · 4 years

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The Mandalorian Fic -- And we are kind to snails

Gen, 3700 words. Story time on the Razor Crest! It was obviously way too early to introduce the kid to combat training, but there were other ways to prepare a child for the world, surely.

If that meant Din was occasionally stuck trying to imitate animal calls for the enjoyment and edification of a delighted and indefatigable one-person audience, so be it.

Can also be found here on AO3

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Din had, he was slowly becoming aware, created a monster.

“Da-wah,” the baby announced, reaching his arms out to be picked up and dropping the holodisc next to him in Din’s lap once he was safely positioned.

“...oh,” Din said faintly, slumping back a little in the pilot’s chair as he kept the baby steady with one hand. “Again?”

The baby turned wide expectant eyes on him, and Din — who had in fact been planning to troubleshoot the concerning noise one of the engines had been making the last time they took off — sighed. Well, he supposed that would be easier to get done uninterrupted once the baby was asleep anyway.

“Right, again,” Din agreed, and went to activate the ship’s holoprojector on the dashboard before sliding the disc in for the second time that day.

The reading had been a bit of a shot in the dark. It was obviously way too early to introduce the kid to combat training and he may never be suited for it in a way Din would be able to teach him, even in maturity — and for all Din knew about the kid’s species that might not even be within his own lifetime, it didn’t seem worth holding his breath on this one. There were other ways to prepare a child for the world, though, surely. It was probably a bit on the premature side for engineering too, since the kid still had a marked tendency to put everything he could pick up into his mouth at least once, which ruled out most of Din’s own expertise.

He’d mulled it over for a few days until a half-buried memory of his parents reading to him had presented itself for consideration. He no longer recalled what exactly they’d read — only the feeling of sitting nestled between them, his mother’s fingers running through his hair, the way his father’s voice had taken on a specific cadence when he read aloud. That they would sometimes switch off doing the voices for the dialogue so it became almost like a real conversation.

It was… well. He still remembered some of it.

Recognizing in himself no great talent for acting Din had elected to aim for something more practical, at least to begin with. In the end he’d chosen something he hoped would be both suitable for a kid and something useful to teach him and gotten, among a few other things, a holodisc that included information on and pictures of a great variety of animals from around the galaxy. Despite the breezy assurances of some people who were born and raised in the tribe, Din suspected that there was such a thing as too early an age to be introduced to the bloodthirsty treatises of Mandalore the Conqueror.

As it turned out the kid had taken to the whole thing with so much gusto that getting him to go to bed without reading at least a little first was starting to become a minor diplomatic incident. It didn’t seem to matter so much what they actually looked at — Din sometimes wondered if he could have gotten away with reading the ship’s manual aloud every night and had the same entranced reception. But for that space of time every night and sometimes during the day, the kid was glued to Din’s lap and poured his full undivided attention into whatever was set before him, and filling that time with anything less than worthy of that attention felt unacceptable.

If that meant Din was occasionally stuck trying to imitate animal calls for the enjoyment and edification of a delighted and indefatigable one-person audience, so be it.

The holoprojector sprang sluggishly to life and the image flickered until Din leaned forward to give the dashboard a succinct and practiced thump. He really should open that up and take a proper look at it one of these days, it’d been acting up for years and the components were likely older than him. “There we go. Okay, then. What are we looking at today?”

In the flickering light of hyperspace illuminating the cockpit he squinted at the small hovering icons that served as previews for the full articles, looking for one that seemed interesting or failing that an old favorite. Before he could settle on something the kid leaned forward and pointed at one of the icons with an intent yelp, so Din opened that one and gave a surprised huff of laughter when the large four-legged bulk of the creature rose from the holoprojector, its horned head immediately familiar where it was lifted in a silent roar. He hadn’t realized the disc included extinct species. The kid glanced up at him, waiting for him to start the normal routine of saying the animal’s name.

“That’s a mythosaur,” Din said, unaccountably pleased the kid had zoomed right in on it. “Our people used to ride them, a long time ago.”

The kid made a long intrigued coo and reached out towards the hologram, moving his hand like he meant to stroke the mythosaur’s horned, ferocious head.

“Too bad they’re extinct or we could’ve gotten ourselves one,” Din said, genuinely a little wistful. “Wouldn’t that have been something?”

Apparently the kid got just enough of that to fix Din with a wide-eyed look, ears perking up in breathless expectation.

Regretful to burst his bubble Din was forced to clarify: “I don’t have one. They aren’t around anymore.”

After a moment’s pause the baby took this revelation with somber dignity, turning back to the mythosaur. “Bah-ta,” he intoned, waving his little hand at the hologram like he was bidding the creature a solemn farewell.

“You still got one here, though,” Din said, in the hopes of softening the blow, tugging gently on the mythosaur skull pendant the kid wore around his neck most waking hours. ”See how they’ve got the same horns?”

The baby grabbed the pendant and glanced down at it, then between it and the hologram a few times, before holding the pendant up for Din’s inspection with a triumphant happy cry.

“Yeah. We keep the important parts,” Din said, grinning a bit at the enthusiasm.

The baby absentmindedly stuck the pendant in his mouth, small toes wiggling in contentment as he turned back to the hologram, clearly awaiting what was next. Biting his lip Din added ‘toy mythosaur?’ to his inner list of things to look out for in markets when he went to resupply and then read off the sparse information the holodisc’s compilers had thought worthy of inclusion.

“Remind me to find a more exciting version of this for you one day,” Din said as he closed the article. “There’s gotta be some better stuff about them out there.”

The baby gave a garbled sound around the pendant, idly swinging his legs while Din picked a new article at random, coming up with something aquatic and vaguely frog-like from a planet covered almost entirely in shallow oceans. The kid’s eyes sparkled.

“I think you’ll find that’s a lunch buffet too big even for you, buddy,” Din told him, moving through the different pictures of the sort-of frogs flitting between corals and strange tentacle-like sea plants. “They’re at least twice your size and squirt poison. Which apparently has psychedelic effects for some species. Huh. Let’s definitely steer clear of that, then.”

Quite apart from anything else Din had no idea how much the baby’s inexplicable mind powers were controlled by conscious thought and how much was purely instinctual — Din already felt out of his depth enough as it was with this, he could only imagine with dread the results of any unforeseen variables. If Din had already wondered whether the kid could lift himself into the air as well as things around him, it was only a question of time before the baby’s inventive and ever-active brain came up with the same idea. Din tried to keep it out of his mind most of the time, outside of the involuntary planning for endless contingencies he engaged in when he couldn’t fall asleep at night. One particularly fevered evening he had, for a while, seriously considered padding the entire ceiling of the interior of the Razor Crest, just to be safe.

After the frogs were duly ‘ooh’ed and hungrily ‘aaah’d over they continued through a few types of bugs until Din used his veto by right of being the person in control of the holoprojector to get them over onto something else. He never knew the universe contained quite so many beetles or that they all looked basically the same. The Naboo guarlara got a raucous reception, though Din suspected this might have more to do with the fanciful and brightly coloured costumes of the royalty depicted riding on them than the animal itself.

Hm. Maybe hunting down a history book or two might be a good call, actually, and not just for the kid. Din had never had much of an interest in the subject himself — surely the world was bleak enough without going around dredging up the muds of ancient strife and suffering to cloud the waters even further. But these Jedi were currently the best lead he had on finding anyone like the baby out there, and if they had once been powerful enough to challenge a Mandalore… they had to have left tracks somewhere. He couldn’t imagine the Empire having tolerated information about formidable sorcerers, however ancient, being freely available, and sometimes knowledge faded surprisingly quickly if it was stamped out hard enough. Off the top of his head he was having a hard time coming up with anyone among his established contacts who might have an interest in banned literature on the side. People in his line of work did not tend towards bookishness, by and large. But then again they might have clients who did and who had the credits to back it up. It could be a useful trail to pursue, anyway, and less risky than trying to ask around about such a loaded subject in person.

What he’d do if he actually found these people was a bridge he’d have to cross — or burn behind him while fleeing blaster bolts, he could only wryly extrapolate from recent events — if he ever managed to get to it.

Still half-lost in thought Din switched to a new animal at the kid’s urging, then startled out of his distraction when the kid sat up straighter in his lap and gave a call of accusation and reproof that came straight from the depths of his little body.

“Huh? What’s wrong?” Din blinked at the hologram of the round-faced fuzzy creatures and tried to understand what was freaking the kid out about them.

“Eh!” the kid insisted, gesturing hotly at the hologram.

Realization finally dawned; Din had to push down a laugh. “Oh yeah, you had a little run-in with one of those on Sorgan, didn’t you. It’s called a Loth-cat, it’s a type of tooka. It’s not dangerous,” he added, chuckling a little despite himself when the small body in his lap remained rigid with outrage and resentment. He wrapped his arms more securely around the kid and stroked a calming hand over his side. “Some people keep them as pets.”

The kid still scowled distrustfully at the image of the Loth-cat like he found this very hard to believe, but burrowed closer against Din’s chest, tucking himself into the crook of his arm.

“See there,” Din said, pointing out the kittens cowering behind the bigger animal. “It has little ones to take care of. That’s why it’s hissing, it’s protecting them.”

Blinking slowly the kid seemed to consider this, his tiny hand wrapped around one of Din’s fingers. He gave a quizzical sound and looked up at Din, pointing at a kitten too.

“Uh-huh,” Din said. “It’s a baby. Like you.”

Softening slightly the kid lowered his hand again and tilted his head to one side.

“That’s the parent,” Din said, indicating the adult. “Buir. And they’re its children. Ade.”

He still couldn’t quite tell how much language the kid actually understood yet, but it felt like the right sort of thing to do, so he kept going.

“Together they’re a family. Aliit. I, uh. Don’t know if they really do clans, but it’s the same word.”

The kid gave a thoughtful sound and fumbled for a handhold on Din’s armor. Din gave him a squeeze, stroking his head when he butted his forehead against his palm to ask for it without taking his big dark eyes off the hologram.

“Every being gets scared and angry if its children are in danger,” Din said quietly, rocking the child gently on his lap. Since this one had sparked an interest, and to give the kid some time to get used to seeing the animal without fear, they read all the information provided, going through galactic prevalence, social structures, speculated planet of origin for the tooka, anatomy and behavioral patterns, history of domestication and hunting strategies. Din was almost sure most of it went right over the kid’s head, but the attentive tilt of his ears never wavered and he seemed to listen the whole way, even glancing questioningly up at Din when he fumbled a little in getting to the next page at one point and left a pause in the flow. Maybe the facts weren’t the most important part.

The last image of the article was of the Loth-cat asleep, its kittens tucked close all around it. Apparently reaching a place where he was ready to bury the hatchet and extend a gracious hand of peace the kid finally leaned forward and tried to pat the Loth-cat’s head like he’d done with the mythosaur, making a soothing sort of warbling sound.

“Yeah, we’re not gonna mess with its babies,” Din agreed. “It doesn’t need to be scared.”

“Nahwa-lah,” the baby babbled sagely, sitting back and leaning against Din’s side again.

“Well, while we’re on things you’ve already seen before...” Din did a quick search and found the large one-horned head he’d had the dubious pleasure of surveying from extremely up close several times.

The baby stilled in his arms, ears perking up.

“You remember this one too, huh. Guess it’d be hard to forget. Well, it’s called a mudhorn,” Din said. “In the capacity as your father, let me take the opportunity to advise you to learn from my mistakes and leave their eggs the hell alone. My vision still goes double sometimes if I turn my head too quickly.”

“Aaah,” the kid said, imperiously waving his hand in the way that meant he wanted the next page of the article, then let out a squeak when the next picture was a mudhorn contentedly grazing with its calf, plump and with a head nearly comically oversized, the horn only about the length of a human hand. The baby pointed to the calf, his excitement so radiant that Din had to smile.

“Yeah, that’s another baby. Actually...” Din knitted his brow as he scanned through the article until he found the section about anatomy and brought up a hologram of the mudhorn’s skull in profile. “Look familiar?”

The baby’s mouth turned into a little ‘o’ of surprise; he glanced up at Din, stretching up as far as he could to tentatively poke the edge of a shoulder pauldron.

“That’s right,” Din confirmed, twisting a little so the kid got a clearer view. “That’s our signet. Which you should rightfully get most of the honour for, honestly, I wasn’t doing so hot on my own.”

Running a three-fingered hand back and forth over the edge of the signet the baby babbled away, his free hand gesturing towards the hologram. Din nodded and ‘uh-huh’ed dutifully along until the kid’s story culminated in him throwing both his arms up with a shout and looking up at Din in a ‘can you believe it?’ sort of way.

“I did go flying a couple of times back there,” Din hazarded while sitting up straight again, and was rewarded with a firm nod. The kid chattered some more and patted Din’s breastplate as if in reassurance, pressing his small round cheek to the smooth metal and blinking cheerily up at him.

Din’s chest did some strange twisting things he didn’t quite understand.

“How could I be worried out there when I’ve got you watching my back, huh?” Din said thickly, cupping the back of the baby’s head in his hand and stroking his thumb along the downy crown of it, making his ears droop in contentment and his eyes slip closed as he craned into it.

Clearing his throat Din turned back to the hologram and indicated the bundle of nerves right behind the mudhorn’s jaw on the anatomy cross section. “Anyway, it went down so quickly because I managed to get it right here after you incapacitated it. Cut that connection and it’s lights out right away. Odd quirk of anatomy, but there you are. You’d do better to snipe it from a distance, though, under normal circumstances — if I didn’t have a set time I had to be back with the egg it probably would have been smarter to lie in wait until it emerged from the cave on its own, shoot it before it even knew we were there. Even tossing a few grenades into the cave would be a better choice than taking it on up close, if you don’t have to worry about the state of the egg. I’m sorry, I realize it is probably a bit on the early side for tactical reviews for you,” he added apologetically, as the baby blinked at him in what looked like well-meaning and attentive incomprehension. “...I’m not very used to having conversations about anything else. I’ll work on it.”

Thankfully the kid was already a far smoother conversationalist than Din and simply tugged on Din’s hand insistently until they could go back to the mudhorn calf, squealing happily as he spotted it again, so Din rather assumed he was forgiven.

The next animal was another bug, so Din quickly skipped it while the kid looked the other way. They detoured through the squills of Tatooine, who despite being largely composed of leathery skin, teeth, aggression and generalized malice got a much friendlier initial greeting than the small fuzzy Loth-cat had. Go figure.

Then they reached one that made Din trail off mid-sentence and grow quiet.

The creature itself was something small and pointy-faced and furry that lived in the high mountains of Alderaan — or at least it had, before, well. There was a twinge of something he couldn’t place in his gut; he’d heard about it, of course, since he hadn’t been actively living under a rock at the time and the destruction of an entire world is the sort of thing that fights itself to the front of people’s minds no matter where you go. It had seemed nearly absurd, though, hard to really imagine, enough so that he hadn’t thought much about it one way or another until he’d seen the look on Cara’s face when she heard the name of her homeplanet spoken by the wraith-like shade of the empire that destroyed it. She had looked the way Din felt hearing ’Mandalore’ from Gideon’s mouth.

This holodisc must have been put together a while ago. The creature wasn’t marked down as extinct yet.

Din glanced down at the kid, who was already looking up at him, getting a bit heavy-eyed but otherwise perfectly cheerful, not seeming to suspect anything was amiss. A collection of memories stirred in the depths of Din’s mind, though mercifully vague and transient — something about the beginning of the war, his parents’ voices, low and worried, conferring in the kitchen when they thought he’d fallen asleep, the slight brittleness to his father’s smile when he called him home from play in the evenings, just a bit earlier than he would have before. He wondered now if they’d been planning to leave or if they had surmised, probably correctly, that there would be nowhere truly safe to go and that the only thing they could do was to shield him from the worst of the fear.

He’d been frightened anyway, of course, but they’d tried. It seemed to him an ancient, unspoken sort of pact, that trying and that fear. A bittersweet creed all its own.

“Let’s skip this one for now,” Din said, as lightly as he could manage while he skipped the article and wrapped one arm more protectively around the baby. “Maybe another time.”

The kid didn’t seem to mind, only gave a contented yawn and turned towards Din’s chest in that way that meant drowsiness was finally catching up with him, his ears fluttering languidly. Din found a smile tugging at his mouth and started on the next animal anyway, in the knowledge that it would probably do the trick.

Din’s hunch was right; between the rdava-bird’s colouring and their mating calls the baby’s eyes were starting to slip closed every so often and he had curled himself up completely in the crook of Din’s arm, sucking absently on the pendant while he fiddled with the edge of the cloth of Din’s gambeson. Finally, in the middle of a description of the bird’s favoured habitat, his head drooped towards his chest and Din decided it might be time to call it.

“Time to sleep?” Din asked, stroking his thumb over the kid’s forehead. The baby gave a weak cry of protest and struggled to sit up a bit, managing to keep his eyes open for all of five bleary seconds before they fell closed again. “Sssh. Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere, you can sleep. I’ll be here.”

Whether because of the words or simply the cadence of his voice the baby relaxed, gazing up at Din with soft-eyed sleepiness and the perfect trust that still made Din feel a little dizzy if he let himself think about it too hard. He swallowed and stroked the baby’s ear, rocking him slightly when his eyes finally slipped all the way closed and stayed that way.

“I’ll be here,” he repeated quietly, holding the kid for longer than he probably needed to before getting up to place him in his seat and tuck him in.

You have no idea how desperately I NEED Mando having to actually tackle a children’s picture book about mythosaurs and being persuaded by big hopeful eyes to do the voices, I’m probably going to have to write it for the sake of my sanity if nothing else

Title is from Fleur Adcock's poem 'For a Five Year Old', because the combination of that poem and this show, what is the word... absolutely devastates me emotionally.

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #baby yoda #my writing #here you go it's literally just 3 000+ words of baby and mando being adorable and no plot lol #plot? who's 'plot' never heard of her

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bubmyg · 5 years

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anniversary (crying version) - jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre/warnings: youtuber!au, fluff, the world’s most sickening couple is back except it’s on their anniversary, idk if i’ve ever mentioned this but ot7 are all youtubers in this universe (except for namjoon, he’s just seokjin’s roommate but that’s not important right now jfaksld)

word count: 1,529

summary: you want to surprise jeongguk for your three year anniversary or you give jimin the password to jeongguk’s youtube account (not clickbait)

a/n: yes this is shamelessly inspired by the festa euphoria piano version video and yes, you should listen to it while you read this

“Hey, did you grab your phone after you paid?”

There was a split second moment of panic in the round of Jeongguk’s eyes, puffing out like a frog where the suction of his lips were still attached to the wide straw of his boba. He stalled, mid stride, free hand smacking the pocket of his jeans. When his palm collided with the hard surface tucked securely in tight denim, he relaxed but frowned at you. An adorable pout, cheeks filling with air, nostrils flaring, lips reluctantly pulling away from his tea to scrunch at you.

“Why would you scare me like that?” Jeongguk whined.

You patted his stomach, “Just making sure. Wouldn’t want to lose that.”

He took your hand, pinning your fingers with the thread of his before he said, “Why? All your good nudes are on my camera—”

You smacked him with your free hand anyway, cheeks warming aside from the midday sun encompassing the park sidewalks, and you quipped, “What’s the return policy on boyfriends? It’s been three years now, can I still get at least a small refund?”

“Hey,” Jeongguk turned the attention of his pout to you just to see you falter because he knew you would, “You can’t be mean to me on our anniversary.”

“I’m not mean to you anyway.”

“I know you’re not,” He nearly toppled over you to peck your cheek. “You’re the bestest, most beautiful—”

“Okay, calm down lover boy,” You used the disadvantaged lean of his stature to direct him to your pleasing, “Let’s sit down over here for a second.”

You checked your watch once Jeongguk had settled enough to become preoccupied with swirling his straw around the tiny balls at the bottom of his drink, heart lodging in your throat as you watched the hands click over.

“Hey,” You nudged him by leaning into him, cheek against the inside of his bicep to peer up at him, “Check your phone for me.”

“What’s the obsession with my phone?” He continued to jam the straw into the black substance, swirling them against the transparent plastic, “...did you send me something that’s meant for my eyes only or—”

“What’s your obsession with seeing me naked?”

“You know the answer to that question.”

“Jeongguk,” He giggled when you snatched his drink out of his grasp, settling it onto the pebble coated concrete below your feet, “Check your phone.”

He sighed, arching to fish the device from his pocket before leaning forward, elbows on his thighs, as you attached yourself to his arm. You watched the side of his face instead of the screen as his thumb hesitated, hovering over a dimmed notification.

“My upload was successful?” Dark eyebrows scrunched and his chin tilted just a fraction, “What upload? I didn’t schedule anything—”

You nosed into the sleeve of Jeongguk’s shirt, silent as he surfed to his account, him equally as silent as he tapped on the “successful upload”, a blurry thumbnail preselected by the platform because that wasn’t the focus of the video anyway.

A fade of black into the first shot was all you watched before you pressed your features fully into his arm, holding onto the apex of his elbow a bit tighter as your own voice, distorted audio from the phone speakers but your voice nonetheless, floated to your ears.

“Hey baby…” It was a clip you’d taken that night, morning in theory but too soon after the clock had clicked past midnight to truly be considered morning. His head on your chest, lips parted and drooling against your sleep shirt, your free hand in the fluff of his shower fresh hair while the other tried to maintain a semi decent angle without waking him, “Happy anniversary.”

The song that began to play was one of his, self produced solely for the purpose of his intro and outro but the wordlessly melody extended into something beautiful, something to slap over any and all vlogs he made dedicated to you. One he serenaded you to in the mornings when his mouth was still full of toothpaste or whispered into your hair when the fatigue of everything made it hard to sleep.

It was different this time, though, tweaked at the request of your nonmusical knowledge but fixed by the talented hands of Yoongi, softened and backtracked with a piano you’d watched the commentary-Youtuber play himself while you roughed eager hands over his shoulders and high fived him with two hands afterwards (It’s perfect, thank you!), then taken to Jimin to add to the never-ending list of clips you’d emailed him, once you just wanted placed into a montage, nothing too fancy. But Jimin made it fancy, pouring the love you didn’t know how to say nor edit into the collage of memories, promising not to do anything stupid with his newfound ability to hack into Jeongguk’s Youtube account by means of your quick handwriting on a pink sticky note.

The memories started as early as you had felt confident enough to film him as much as he filmed you, quite literally a clip of him fiddling with his camera while you draped yourself over his shoulder, zooming in on the freckle underneath the smile on his lips while he murmured are you me now? to as late as the week before your anniversary when you’d caught him researching human sized flower bouquets in his office. Capturing the moments in between all of his life that was plastered on the Internet, like seeing himself through a mirror but instead with glasses on that zeroed in on your perspective, the love and affection he was aware of but often blind to the full magnitude.

He filmed things because he wasn’t good with words. You filmed things to reinforce your words, reassure him of your words.

You watched the last clip fade away with the music, the audio of the original clip left in this time, one from your last vacation where he’d given you a tiny diamond ring on the beach (This isn’t what you think. Okay maybe it is. It’s a promise. Do they call it a promise ring?) and you’d cried about how cheesy he was, eyes still a little puffy when you turned your phone camera on but it didn’t matter because he was still rambling to the painted canvas sky about how much he loved you when you squished his cheeks between your thumb and four fingers, ring not quite fully on your finger but prominent nonetheless, puffing out his lips enough to plant a firm kiss on them.

“I love you too, idiot.”

The screen was black long enough for the autoplay feature to slip into his video from the previous week, his own screeching voice bringing him back to reality as he exited the application, locking his phone to set it gently aside on the bench.

“How did you…”

“Yoongi mixed the song for me. Jimin helped me edit and upload,” You watched as he continued to stare at the sidewalk, eyes opening all the way and then scrunching shut.

“So you mean Jimin has my password?”

“He promised he wouldn’t do anything. I’ve been working on this for weeks, he would have already deleted that one prank video where you shaved a stripe into the back of his head and—”

Your surroundings whirled, voice cut off with an abrupt hmph! as you were crushed in a pair of strong arms, turned and twisted until you were straddling his lap.

“I’m kidding. Oh my god, I was just kidding,” Jeongguk’s nose dug into the crook of your neck, fists scrunched at the back of your shirt, “He can delete my entire channel. I couldn't care any less at the moment. I love you so much. I love you so fucking much—”

You cooed when he collected your face in his hands, holding you at the tear of his gaze until the streams bubbling over his bright eyes contoured a line down the slope of his nose. He laughed when your thumb brushed into his skin, collecting the droplets where they framed red at the crinkles in his smile, brushing until it did no good and you decided to kiss him instead.

“Thank you. It’s perfect—” Jeongguk stuttered into the seam of your lips that tasted of salt and peach, “—you’re perfect. You are. It’s ridiculous. I can’t believe you’re mine. How did I—”

“Shh.”

He flushed under your affections, seven shades of shy pink when you kissed his cheek then moved for the other. “This is why I stick to videos,” He told you when you kissed his eyelid, peering up at you with a scrunched nose that you kissed too.

“And you’re damn good at it.”

Some more squeaks and attempts at rambling his affections for you subsided like the leak of tears into your collar. “M’gonna hold you forever,” He decided finally, tightening his grip in the same moment that you tried to clamber off him.

“Only if I can love you forever.”

Silence and then Jeongguk huffed against the dip in your collarbone.

“Ew. Maybe we should both stick to videos…”

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook scenario #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #fic: ytber jk #they're so gross it's adorable

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saiilorstars · 4 years

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The Beginning of Everything

Ch. 21: The Marchioness of Gallifrey

// Story Masterlist //

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 10th Doctor x Original Female Character

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Chapter summary: The travelers stop by King Henry VIII's palace on the day he's holding a celebration. He seems to take a special interest in Renata and despite the Doctor's efforts not to let it get to him...it does. It leads to arguments, accusations, a dance and a proposition of a thrilling night adventure together. The Doctor then starts to realize that maybe the Marchioness has caught him too.

A/N: The pronunciation of 'Marchioness' is mar-shuh·nes

The TARDIS wardrobe was ransacked the morning the Doctor suggested the group take a trip into the past so Gabby and Donna could meet royalty. The idea stemmed from a passing remark Renata made the previous night about having to explain to Gabby how royalty worked in the future. The Doctor thought it would be a nice idea if Gabby and Donna could see royalty up close. Plus, it was always fun having a leisure day in the past. And after their recent trips full of danger, Gods, alien bees...they needed a leisure trip.

So as soon as he made his idea known, Gabby and Donna zoomed for the wardrobe room. If they were going to travel back in time to meet royalty then they would need to find dresses and jewelry and do their hair. The Doctor prepared himself at the idea that they would be spending a long time getting ready.

Renata, for her part, hadn't taken long. She knew where to go, what to pick, how to do her hair. She was done in half an hour and that was only because Donna couldn't quite figure out how to tie her corset. Now, Renata helped the two human women.

"I can't believe we're actually going to meet a Queen and King!" Gabby gushed as Renata finished doing her hair. She was sitting in front of a vanity desk and was watching Renata through the mirror as she did wonders with her hair.

"Gabriella please stop moving so much," Renata had to physically hold Gabby's head for a few seconds to keep Gabby still. "And I don't know why you're so excited," Renata said once she could trust Gabby to keep herself from moving.

Suddenly, Donna scoffed from the side of the room. She was getting changed like Renata told her to. She was next in the hair department. "Why we're so excited!?" Donna called. "Because we're meeting flippin royalty!"

"Yeah, but they're people. They're literally just people," Renata shook her head. She focused on pinning the last butterfly hair pin on Gabby's hair. "There we are. What do you think?"

Gabby once again gushed at her reflection. "I love it! You really do know how to do hairstyles!"

Indignance flashed across Renata's face. "What - did you doubt me!?"

"No!" Gabby laughed and went back to looking at herself in the mirror. Renata had curled her hair - proving once and for all to Gabby and Donna that she did know how to use a curling iron - and made a few braids to be left down while others were pulled to the back. The braids on the back were connected by a lavender butterfly pins.

"Alright, my turn!" Donna came out wearing an ornate emerald green gown with white lace at the squared neckline and cuffs. "Up, up!"

Gabby got up from the chair and hitched the sides of her baby blue dress to move around. "What are you going to do to Donna's hair?" she curiously asked.

Renata's hands were already massaging Donna's hair. She looked at Donna through the mirror with a warm smile. "I'm thinking we leave this fiery hair down and curl it."

"You're the Noble one," Donna laughed at her own joke.

"Oh Donna, I'm really not," Renata's smile had become strained but with all the excitement going on no one noticed.

"Course you are! Now c'mon! Before the Doctor changes his mind!"

~0~

The Doctor really had almost changed his mind after so much waiting. He would never understand why it took most women - and a few men - so long to get changed. Like, was there an invisible force keeping them from getting ready quick that he wasn't aware of? What was it?

Words could not explain the relief he felt when he heard Renata's voice asking their companions to calm down. She must have been helping Gabby and Donna get ready because as far as the Doctor knew, Renata never took long to get changed for a trip. He didn't know if it was part of her customs back on Gallifrey to be ready as quick as possible or if she just wasn't affected by the invisible force he wasn't sure existed or not.

"Please try to act normal," Renata was instructing the women when she strode into the console room. "Nothing gives you away like screaming and being all giddy."

"Finally!" the Doctor made a point of saying it loudly and as frustrated as he actually was. He started making his way towards the doors. "I've been parked outside the 16th century for hours! I thought you got lost in there!

"They did," Renata came around the console to check the monitor. She wanted to make sure he had actually landed them in the correct spot and not some alien version of 16th century Earth. "And then I found them. They're very fond of the 1920s. Apparently, the whole Agatha Christie trip didn't fill them up but they are ready - I got them ready."

"You make us sound like children," Donna huffed with her arms crossed.

Renata cast a look at Donna as she started for the doors. "In my eyes, you might as well be."

Donna rolled her eyes at the woman while Gabby giggled beside her. Just because Renata was right didn't mean Donna would admit to it.

Renata stepped out of the TARDIS to find a bright green garden field. She would've immediately assumed the Doctor had taken them to the wrong place if she hadn't caught a glimpse of a tall palace in the distance.

"Is that a real castle!?" Gabby squealed so loud that the others flinched.

"To be correct, it's the Hampton Court Palace," the Doctor began to explain. "King Henry VIII and his new wife Anne of Cleves are living there. The Hampton palace is known for it's incredible size and rooms. I'm sure you'll all love it." And judging by Donna's and Gabby's faces, he was right. "Shall we-"

"I'm off to meet royalty!" Donna happily declared before taking off first.

"Me too! Maybe I'll meet a prince!" Gabby gushed again and rushed off.

"Remember what I said about not being all giddy!?" Renata was left to call for them. "You're going to get us caught!" But neither woman seemed to hear.

"Ah, they'll be fine," the Doctor said with a tone that fully believed in what he was saying.

Renata wouldn't be so naive. She scoffed lightly and reached behind them to close the TARDIS doors. "Are you sure leaving the TARDIS here is a good idea?"

"Yeah, we don't want it too close to the palace. She'll be fine here. We'll be fine too so please relax." The Doctor was holding his arm out when Renata turned around.

"What? I am relaxed!"

The only reason the Doctor wouldn't scoff is because he would rather move onto something he'd been keeping back. "You look lovely, Renée."

He'd thought she looked right at home in such an elegant gown. She knew exactly how to best compliment herself, probably accustomed in her days on Gallifrey. She had chosen a gold and white dress that, under the sunlight, looked a bit orange. It had three-quarter sleeves and a flared skirt. The bodice had deep v-neck with the stomacher, in a whiter shade than the rest of the dress, covering her chest. There was a small, orange gemstone attached to tip of her bodice, perhaps bringing just a bit more attention to her chest. She wore a small, glimmering orange necklace. Her hair was tucked in an elegant low bun with two strands of her blonde curls left to frame her face.

Renata shifted for the first seconds while she figured out a way to not look like an idiot. The Doctor always got her like that too and it was utterly ridiculous! She was 756 for God's sake! She was a grown woman who shouldn't get mad blushes over a simple compliment.

"...thank you," she pressed down on the side of her dress, awkwardly clearing her throat. "I'm a bit sad though that I couldn't bring my sonic screwdriver around. No pockets." The Doctor smiled as he got the image of Donna shouting at him for assuming her wedding dress had pockets. Renata was none the wiser about it. "And I think I may have chosen something a bit ahead of this time period, but-"

"You'll be setting a style," the Doctor moved to stand beside her with his arm still held out for her. "What do you think? Lady? Duchess?"

There was a novel glint in her eyes when he asked. "...Marchioness."

The Doctor hummed and swayed his head as he tested the title out. "Marchioness Renata..." It made sense for her to pick that title instead of a Duchess which was the next higher rank. If he knew Renata, and he thought he did, she chose 'Marchioness' because it would attract the lesser attention amongst a group of royals. She never like getting so much attention, she preferred simplicity. And if he was being honest, the title sounded a lot better than 'Duchess'. The Doctor didn't know why it was, but it just was.

Renata curled her arm around his and pulled him after their companions. "It's an appropriate title given the fact I am a widow."

The Doctor went serious for a moment, knowing she was right. "Of course." She was being completely logical, as usual, but there was an unusual (and recently new) feeling in his stomach when he thought about Renata being married.

~0~

The Hampton Court Palace seemed to be in a rush when the travelers reached the entrance. There were carriages arriving and leaving, bustling employees going to and from and the employees not moving about were decorating the building and cutting the bushes.

"I wonder what's going on," Gabby remarked to the group.

"I bet the old chap Henry is having a party today," the Doctor said. "Very famous for those too."

"How are we getting in?" Donna inquired once they'd reached the entrance. They didn't seem to be lingering like they were going to think of a plan. The Doctor was leading them straight for the entrance.

"Oh, did I forget to mention I've already met Henry?" he flashed the women a smirk at the same time he pulled out his psychic paper from his coat.

"Oh great, the return of the lying booklet," Renata sighed lightly but let it be.

The Doctor presented the psychic paper to the guards and the male servant greeting guests at the door. "John Smith - known better as the Doctor - Marchioness Renata, Lady Donna and Lady Gabby," he read off so calmly and smoothly that no one would eve rethink twice about disbelieving them.

As soon as the servant saw the psychic paper, his eyes stuck to the Doctor. "Doctor, welcome back!"

"You do know them," Donna's eyes widened, gasping lightly.

"Good to see you too, Barnard" the Doctor shut his psychic paper. "What's it been?"

"About seven years, sir," Barnard gave a dutiful nod before glancing at the woman.

"Good, hasn't been that long yet," the Doctor mumbled. He missed Renata rolling her eyes at him. She only dreaded what kind of mischief he'd gotten himself into the last time he was around. Hopefully Martha had been around to keep him in check.

"And you've married," Barnard's hazel eyes flickered to Renata who still had her arm curled around the Doctor's. Her face went a rosy tint within seconds. "Your Most Honorable Marchioness." He did a courtesy bow for the blonde.

"Oh n-n-no! Not married!" Renata shook her head and elbowed the Doctor to get him in on the corrections.

He yelped from pain and tried agreeing while rubbing his side. "Not...married..."

"Widowed," Renata corrected. "Mr. Smith has offered to guide me and my..." she glanced at Donna and Gabby, both humans amused with the show, "...sisters to the city. I hope his majesty does not mind 3 extra guests to...?"

"His Majesty has decided to throw a celebration tonight. No other reason than to, uh..." Barnard trailed with a smile.

"To party?" Gabby asked, from now on putting on an accent to fit the sisterly role Renata had appropriated on her. It was surprisingly easy.

"Yes," Barnard nodded abashedly. "But please come in. I will inform his majesty of your arrival and appoint you bedrooms."

"Oh but we're not staying more than a day," Renata said, looking to the Doctor for some help again. She didn't think that they could last a day without causing trouble, whether it was by accident or not.

"The party will last two days my Lady," Barnard explained. "I believe his majesty will like it if you stayed."

"We'd be honored to," the Doctor grinned and glanced at the others. Donna and Gabby seemed to agree, Renata being a bit weary as they were allowed into the palace.

~0~

There was definitely a party to be held that evening for every room had servants going back and forth. Renata pitied the overworked men and women forced to prepare what would no doubt be a ridiculously huge party.

"I don't like the idea of staying overnight and making these people work extra," she quietly told the Doctor as a different servant escorted them down the hallways for the gardens where most of the higher-ranked courtiers and guests were. "Plus, I don't know how long we can keep this charade going."

"Oh don't worry. Henry and I are actually good friends - we've had jousting matches!" the Doctor smiled nostalgically. "It didn't work out for him in the end, though."

"Doctor, focus!"

"Right," the Doctor shook his head and offered her a reassuring smile. "We'll be fine."

"This way," the servant led them down the steps into the garden. "His and Her Majesty are greeting the guests right now. Barnard has made them aware of your presence."

"Good, thanks," the Doctor said, completely at ease unlike his two human companions.

"We're meeting the bloody King and Queen of England!" Donna was straining her voice so it wouldn't come out in a shout, but Gabby was squealing like a little girl beside her.

"This isn't going to work," Renata brought a hand to her forehead. "We'll be beheaded in an hour."

"Would you relax?" the Doctor shot her a look, almost begging her to keep quiet. At this point, he'd rather take the squealing humans beside them.

The servant left the trio with Barnard once more who then led them through the circles of guests mingling. The travelers immediately spotted the King and Queen at the center conversing with a couple and before they could even think about how to best greet them, King Henry turned and yelled for the Doctor.

"It is you!" the tall man threw his arms into the air and laughed. He waved off the couple he'd been talking to and strode up to the Doctor. As traditions called, the Doctor was about to bow but Henry took him into a hug. Renata, who'd had her arm around the Doctor's, was forced to let go and stumbled into Donna. "Been far too long!"

"Yes, yes, it has," the Doctor agreed with his own laugh.

"Oh my God that's King Henry VIII," Gabby whispered to Donna as she practically clung to the ginger's arm.

Donna didn't seem the least bothered by Gabby's relentlessly shaking her arm. She was so excited too! "I bloody know!"

Renata cleared her throat at the two, shooting them a stern look. Calm down was written across her face.

"I have brought a few extra guests for tonight's, uh, celebration," the Doctor said once he was able to pry the King off him. "I'm assisting them on their journey to London and thought we should stop by to see an old friend."

"Well of course!" Henry laughed and started studying the three women. While he did that, the women studied him as well. He was fairly tall, probably the same height as the Doctor. However, they differed in that Henry had a pudginess to his face and he wasn't as slim as the Doctor. He had a receding hairline but even then his hair seemed to be thinning. He did have a full beard though, shading between brown and a light ginger.

"Ladies, his Majesty, King Henry," the Doctor gestured to the man. "Your majesty, Lady Gabby Gonzalez and Lady Donna Noble..." he barely got to introduce before the two humans bowed.

Gabby immediately plunged herself a bit too low out of her excitement. "Your majesties."

Donna did the same, much to Renata's dismay, and smiled at the royal pair. "An honor to meet you."

"Stand up," Renata hissed under her breath and in doing so she claimed the King's attention. Seeing this, Renata did the appropriate bow and gracefully smiled. "Your majesties."

"This is the Marchioness of..." the Doctor struggled for a few seconds to find the appropriate land for Renata, something she felt guilty for because she hadn't even considered it herself. But, just like that, the Doctor realized there was only one possible answer. "This is the Most Honorable Marchioness of Gallifrey."

Renata's eyes widened and snapped to the Doctor, but even then she finished bowing and rose like she hadn't been shaken. "It is an honor to meet you, your Majesties." She could see the Queen was cautiously standing behind her husband, no doubt waiting to be introduced by her husband, so Renata offered the woman a kind a smile.

"Doctor, you married such a beautiful jewel," Henry's eyes seemed to spark with something that Renata hadn't been able to describe in that second. She was more focused on the incorrect assumption about her status...again.

"We are not married," she said with a strain in her voice. Henry looked at the Doctor for his confirmation, something that reminded Renata how badly this period was for women. Her word was not enough. Only the Doctor's words mattered.

"We're not," he agreed. He didn't miss the way Henry's face lit up at the news. What the hell are you so happy about? The silent question came in an unusual angry way.

"You're widowed, my condolences," Henry's tone didn't exactly portray the feeling of his words. He took Renata's hand without warning her, choosing to ignore the small "Oh!" that slipped her lips when her body was jerked towards him.

The Doctor did not miss it. Gabby and Donna giggled as quietly as they could when the King kissed the back of Renata's hand.

"You are too kind, your Majesty," Renata took her hand out of his the moment she could. "It was a very long time ago, though."

"Oh, really?" Henry lifted an eyebrow at her.

"Still," the Queen suddenly spoke up, "You have our deepest condolences." She did offer a genuine kind smile that Renata could take to heart.

At the reminder of his wife's presence, Henry stepped back to stand beside her to introduce her. "Doctor, unlike you, I have married. Her Majesty Queen Anne."

All the travelers once again bowed according to custom. The Queen, unlike her husband, seemed like a kind woman. Her warm smile was a charmer. She was a tall, slim young woman - if the timing was right, she was only 25 - with fair blonde hair tucked into a pony-tail hanging over her shoulder. She had a pointed chin and slim cheeks. Her dark chocolate brown, though heavily lidded, eyes gave each of the travelers a welcoming look.

"Honor to meet you, your Majesty," the Doctor said had the agreeing nods of the women.

"I have heard about you, Doctor," Anne confessed, a hint of curiosity etching across her face. "And if what my husband said is true then I look forward to having you at our celebration this evening."

"Thank you," the Doctor gave a polite nod of his head.

"Have your things been assigned to bedchambers?"

"Uuh..." the Doctor quickly looked at Renata, his mouth slightly opened.

"We had a carriage sent to London hours ago," the Time Lady supplied the excuse within the second, and she said it so smoothly as well. "We only have what we are wearing. We didn't know there was a celebration tonight. Apologies."

"No matter, we can supply you with the right clothes," the Queen said, glancing at Henry to see if agreed.

"Of course!" He laughed, clapping a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "Anything for my good friend the Doctor and his lovely friends."

The Doctor had the light suspicion that Henry was really only talking about one of his friends.

~ 0 ~

"What's wrong with you, giving me that Marchioness title?" Renata was deciding whether to laugh or smack the Doctor. The group was taking leisure in the gardens much like everyone else was that afternoon while they waited for evening to fall.

"I think it's funny," Gabby chuckled behind them. "The Marchioness of Gallifrey?"

Renata shook her head at them both but there was a smile creeping across her face. "You two are ridiculous."

"I thought it was fitting!" the Doctor exclaimed. "You're the pinnacle of what every Time Lord family wanted out of their daughters. You should have been the Marchioness of the entire planet."

"Oh Doctor," Renata sighed and picked up her pace. "Look at us, focusing on stupid titles when we're in such a beautiful garden. Aren't they finishing up a maze around here?"

"Actually," the Doctor began, making her and Gabby stop, "You're thinking of The Maze that won't be started until 1689," the Doctor corrected.

"Oh..." Renata's eyebrows rose as her face flushed. "...miscalculation?"

The Doctor's mouth curved into a fond smile. "A bit."

Renata bobbed her head as she slowly turned away from him. "Oh, we can't all be like you!"

"Thank goodness, I don't think the world can handle another 'me'," the Doctor motioned Gabby to start walking with them. "Can you imagine that?"

Gabby chuckled. "I don't think I can!"

"Still, this place is marvelous," Renata stopped by to admire a bush that'd been shaped into a horse. "There are clearly some artistic hands in this place." She glanced specifically at Gabby. "Maybe we can find them for you. It'd be a good idea for you to meet some human artists and get new perspectives."

Gabby adored the idea. She'd already met an alien artist so it was only fair she met genuine human artists too! She spun around, her eyes scanning the crowds of guests in the garden. "Do you think they're here?"

"Probably not the ones who made this bush, but...I'm sure there has to be somebody artistic here," Renata took a few steps towards the girl, joining Gabby in the search for an artist. "Perhaps we should ask Donna. She's certainly made herself comfortable amongst the royalty."

The Doctor hummed in agreement. Everyone's eyes found their ginger friend laughing away with one of the Queen's Ladies-in-Waiting. It was truly an amazing sight because none of them had ever pictured Donna like that.

"She's even speaking like them," Renata brought a hand up to her mouth to cover her laugh.

"Hmm, truly never underestimate Donna Noble," the Doctor slid his hands into his pockets and watched in amusement as Donna retold a story about herself in London...in the same time period.

"Oh great, you're teaching them to lie!" Renata dropped her hand from her mouth and whacked the Doctor's arm with her other hand. "We're teaching them to lie!"

"What - I didn't tell her to make up stories!" the Doctor rubbed his arm and turned to Renata.

"Well, go tell her not to tell stories! She'll get us caught!"

The Doctor groaned, swaying his head as he once again cast a look in Donna's way. "No...she won't..." But Donna actually seemed pretty animated over the story she was telling.

"Doctor, this is not a time period we can so easily mess with," Renata argued with a very good point on her side. "I'm not saying she shouldn't tell stories just...maybe tone it down a bit?"

The Doctor sighed in resignation. "Yeah, alright." Who knew, maybe in Donna's excitement she might say the wrong thing. It was a long run back to the TARDIS.

"And you Gabriella," Renata ushered the young girl towards the crowd, "We most definitely can find somebody worthwhile for you speak to. It would be so exciting if we could actually find an artist."

"Mhm!" Gabby agreed.

"Tell you what, I'll go look over there and you take Donna's side."

"Right - wait!" Gabby's eyes widened with realization. "You mean I have to talk to all of these people!? By myself!?"

"It'll be fine," Renata gave a dismissive wave of her hand. She was already scanning the crowds for the most viable candidates. "An artist usually caries a different air around them. And around this time, they're primarily male."

"Oh! That makes it better!" Gabby fervently shook her head and stopped walking. "I can't talk to these men! I don't know them and what if I get caught?"

"You won't. And if you're that nervous about it, have the Doctor or Donna help you. Go!" Renata once again ushered Gabby forwards.

"But what about you?"

"I'm a Marchioness to these people, nobody would bat a suspicious eye at a widow trying to make small talk with men." Of course as soon as Renata heard her own words, her nose crinkled. "Oh...that sounded a lot better in my head."

Gabby giggled at the Time Lady. "Now you're sounding like the Doctor."

"Oh just go!" Renata shooed her away. She herself took the other side of the crowd and started going through the crowds, presenting herself as normally as she could.

She admitted that it was pretty simple considering this is more or less what life was like back on Gallifrey, minus the royalty. It was easy engaging humans in conversation when the topics were dim: jewelry, parties and the same old gossip.

"You are a charming woman, my Lady," Lady Margaret Douglas laughed at what Renata didn't think was so amusing. She'd only made up a story about a trip she supposedly took with another Lady in Waiting.

"I don't know if I'd go that far," Renata chuckled along with another Lady in Waiting, Susanna Hornebolt.

"How is it that we have never met?" Susanna asked after receiving a flute from a passing servant. "You should clearly be at every event his Majesty holds. A Widower who has traveled more than any of us is somebody who holds many interesting stories."

"I'm not the type to attend so many, uh, public events," Renata cleared her throat and discreetly continued to search through the crowds. These two women were possibly the most chit chatty people she'd ever met and so far neither of them had given her any indication of just who was at this event. Before them she had stopped by a few Dukes under the guise of a confused woman asking where her sisters were. That sparked conversation and while Renata did get a few identities of other guests, they weren't any artists. Before the dukes, she'd caught a Duchess and her brother. Neither of them knew the guests.

How helpful they were.

Renata thought that these two Ladies might have more information. She could tell Gabby was getting far too flustered to keep her conversations going. There was only so much the Doctor could do for her.

"Excuse me," Susanna had to part when the Queen called for her assistance.

"Look at her, so eager to help," Lady Margaret huffed beside Renata. She cast Margaret a puzzled glance. Margaret chortled. "If you stay, you will learn what truly goes on around here. Lady Susana, for starters, is a widower herself. She is in severe financial troubles. Everybody knows that she is searching for a new husband to ease her problems."

"Oh, and you're helping her by telling me this?" Renata couldn't help the sour tinge covering her words. It was too petty for her.

"Simply so you know to keep your own prospects under a close eye."

Renata's face contorted to a deeper level of confusion until Margaret inclined her head in the Doctor's direction. Soon as Renata understood she groaned and not as quietly as a true Marchioness would have. "For the love of - we are not married and we are not getting married! I am not looking for a husband! Is that all you people think about?!"

Margaret was taken aback by what would be considered an abrasive reaction in the time period, but Renata wouldn't take anything back. Why didn't anyone believe that she and the Doctor were only friends!? Was it too hard to understand the concept of friendship?

"My Lady?" Henry was approaching the women, instigating for Margaret to stiffen.

So that's how you shut her up, Renata silently thought.

"Your Majesty," Margaret did her dutiful bow.

"I wish to speak to the Marchioness alone. Leave us," Henry didn't spare the woman a look. He had said his rather cold words all while he smiled at Renata.

Margaret nodded and rushed off but Renata noticed the lingering look the human had on her. Renata sighed inwardly sighed. She knew what thoughts must be starting up in that human head of hers.

"My Lady, I have heard you were asking several of my guests about their professions? May I ask why? Not looking for a husband right now, are we?"

Renata literally forced herself to resist the urge to snap. "No...your majesty. I am not looking for a husband in any of these men. I was merely curious because one of my sisters has an interest in art."

"Ah," Henry's face lit up. "You should have asked me, then. I do love myself the crafts. If your sister is interested, we can allow her to view the portraits I have collected from around the world."

A genuine smile spread across Renata's face. "Oh, really? That would...that would actually be very kind of you. Gabriella adores all types of art so, really, anything you would share with her would be deeply appreciated."

"Say no more," Henry made a gesture for a servant to come by. "See to it that my Art room is fit for the Honorable Marchioness and her sister by tomorrow morning." The servant quickly nodded his head and rushed off.

"I truly appreciate it, your Majesty."

Henry took pleasure in her beaming face. "Please, it is the least I can do for one of the Doctor's friends."

Renata missed the emphasis Henry had put in 'friends' due to her search for Gabby in the crowd. She wanted to tell Gabby as quick as possible - the girl would be so excited!

"May I ask what are your interests?"

"What?" Renata's head snapped in the King's direction when she realized she was getting lost in her search. "I'm sorry?"

"Your interests, my Lady. One of your sisters is interested in the arts, and you?"

"Oh, uh..." Renata started looking away while she racked her brain for humanly qualities. "I...I like..."

Be simple, she told herself. The Doctor wouldn't complicate backstories so much. "I like to help people, teach," she settled for. Back on Gallifrey that's what she did. Teaching Gabby about outer space was a bit out of her element but when she was on Gallifrey, working her foundation, she knew exactly what to do. "I, uh...I do a lot of charity work. There are so many people, children, that require our help."

"Ah, truly noble of you then," Henry gave a small nod. "I do like women who are vastly educated. My wife, it seems, is not as educated as I was made to believe."

Renata pursed her lips. Queen Anne of Cleves was known to be an incredibly kind, docile woman with a German education...but not to the type of education that Henry had expected before marrying her. "I'm sure she is educated where it matters."

Henry bobbed his head but didn't outright insist on his opinion. "Do you like the study of astronomy?"

The smile that came to Renata's face was automatic when it came to that subject. "I suppose I do."

"Have you seen our Astronomical clock hanging on the gatehouse of inner court?"

"No, I have not actually."

"We must correct that. A woman of your education and beauty must see it." Henry offered Renata his arm and though he was doing it kindly, Renata suspected that declining wasn't an option. He was infamous for his cold, sometimes dangerous, behavior.

Just like she would on Gallifrey, Renata accepted something she did not want. She took Henry's arm and allowed him to lead her away.

From a distance, the Doctor caught them leaving. He was initially perplexed, almost thinking that the woman couldn't be Renata. But he would recognize those fair movements of hers anywhere, along with her elegant hair bun. Renata was leaving the party - where there were plenty of people - to be alone with Henry? That didn't settle right with his stomach.

~ 0 ~

Renata wasn't so sure about this alone time with Henry but all her concerns washed away when she saw the mesmerizing clock hanging up on the building. It was truly an astounding sight.

The outer rim of the clock was a stark blue, nearly matching the skies had it been a lighter shade. It had the Roman Numerals carved as the 24 hour segments. There were three more main segments - copper dials - within the clock, each donning their own brilliant shades of blue. A few golden and red decorative segments were between the rim and the second segment. The other three copper dials were rotating at different speeds.

"This is truly amazing," Renata laughed and brought a hand to cover her mouth. She was opening it too much for a King, she probably looked out of place.

But Henry was admiring her reaction. He was grinning, really, as she continued to gawk over the clock. "We have other clocks in the palace but I wanted this one to be different. This one can be used by our incoming guests using the River Thames."

"I think they could," Renata agreed with a fervent nod of her head.

"The central dial rotates only once per lunar month," Henry explained and pointed up at the baby blue dial in the middle of the clock. "It also gives us the time when the moon crosses the meridian..."

"So you can be aware of the tides," Renata finished his sentence, meeting his impressed gaze with a laugh. "Yes, I'm familiar with the concept."

"I can see," Henry nodded, now laughing himself. "Well then, the middle dial...what do you think it's showing us?"

Renata would've laughed at the human who thought he could challenge her, a Time Lady, with time. You are so cheating Renata, she told herself but she was simply having too much fun. It was her chance to show off for a change. "Let us see," she put her hands behind her back and took a few steps towards the clock. She raised her head and studied the second dial.

Behind her, Henry watched her with bemusement. The Marchioness of Gallifrey was proving to be as exotic as the Doctor. How he had found her, Henry had no idea, but he would be damned if he let the Doctor take her away.

"I got it," Renata announced and turned around just as Henry took the steps she had taken to be face to face with her. "It's showing the age of the moon and your outer dial-" she pointed a finger over her head, "-shows us the months and the zodiac. I also admire how you worked in the movement of the sun."

Henry's eyebrows nearly shot up to his receding hairline. "Marchioness of Gallifrey, you have just impressed the King of England in the span of 10 seconds. That is a true record."

Renata smirked proudly. "I do have my moments." The Doctor always told her that but she never quite believed it. Maybe she should start now.

~0~

Once evening began to fall, Renata and Henry returned to the garden. Henry then announced the party would start in one hour. Everyone was to report to the Great Hall starting at seven. Barnard was tasked to bring the travelers to their appointed bedchambers.

"If you need anything, please let us know," Barnard stopped by the last door which had been Gabby's bedchamber.

"Thank you," the Doctor said with a strained smile. Barnard gave a dutiful nod then left the group.

"I am so excited!" Gabby gushed once they were alone in the grand hallway. "And do we really get to wear actual dresses from this place!?"

"You better believe that I'm going to be wearing one of them!" Donna's eyes practically radiated with excitement.

"I think it would be nice," Renata agreed with a small laugh. "But please remember to keep yourselves as calm as possible. We don't want to attract attention."

"Right, will you be taking your own advice then?" the Doctor's sudden question put Renata off for a moment. He was a little surprised himself but his irritation got the best of him.

"What?" Renata laughed out of confusion.

Gabby and Donna exchanged glances with each other. They'd noticed that the Doctor had been a bit tensed earlier in the day and neither really understood why. He hadn't said anything to either of them - he barely uttered a word to them in fact - in the gardens.

"I only mean that for somebody who's intent was to blend in, you're not doing a very good job," the Doctor put a hand into his pocket. He glanced away from Renata. She arched an eyebrow at him, naturally questioning his words.

"What do you mean?" she heard the Doctor scoff and frowned. "Excuse me, what do you mean?"

"Nothing...except I couldn't help notice you practically spent the whole afternoon with the King."

It took 2 seconds for Renata to figure out what he was trying to say. Her eyes blazed with fury that would have scared anybody, but the Doctor was all upset on his own.

"I will not...I will not tolerate such an accusation!" she pointed a finger at him then stormed away.

"Oh, yeah, go off!" the Doctor called after her, but after a few seconds his face scrunched. He needed to know what she was doing the whole afternoon with Henry. He sprinted after her, leaving Gabby and Donna to do the same. "You know, I had the Queen asking me if I'd seen her dear ole husband this afternoon! I had to tell her that I had no idea where he was!"

Renata kept her fast-paced walk down the hallway. "Nobody asked you to lie!" she uncharacteristically snapped.

"You shouldn't have gone off with him!"

Renata came to an abrupt stop outside her bed chamber, turning quick enough to bump into the Doctor. "Why shouldn't I have? I wasn't doing anything wrong!" Her narrowed eyes met his and without him actually saying anything, Renata saw the doubt sprinkled in his irises. She deeply gasped, her hand moving up to cover her mouth as she stepped away from him.

Gabby and Donna each winced with that type of gasp. For a moment they thought something physically hurt Renata.

But nothing physically hurt, only her hearts. "Do you think...?" Renata could barely say the words without sounding like she'd lost air. It also seemed like she was trying not to scream right there and then. "Do you think that I was doing something...immoral with Henry?" Even saying the word, through all her efforts, disgusted her.

The Doctor said nothing but there was a terse air around him. His hearts were hammering under his chest, a loud voice in his head was screaming at him to take back his unsaid suspicion. Even if she had done something, what did he have to say about it? First of all, she was not his anything except his friend and second of all...he'd done something more or less similar with Zuriah. He had absolutely no right to even ask that question.

So how could he get the image of Renata and Henry out of his head? And why did it bother him so much?

His long silence answered Renata's question. Her face went red fast and she was scrunching it as if she was about to scream. For a moment, Gabby thought she might explode.

"I - he was showing me something!" she settled for an exclaim but every word she said was a risk that might lead to a shrill scream. "This stupid astronomical clock that I actually admired and I was going to show it to you tomorrow so you could see how beautiful it is!"

"Well that's..." the Doctor's mouth opened several times but there was nothing to argue about that. She was looking at a clock you idiot. "Just keep your eyes peeled for Henry. I know him and I know when he has someone new in his eyes."

Those words still didn't calm Renata down. "You are being ridiculous!"

"I am not!"

"YES!" Renata caught herself shouting and lowered her volume but it was still louder than a typical exclaim. "We were only talking! He was showing me a clock and do you know what else he's going to do?"

"What?" there was a clear sourness in the Doctor's single-worded response.

"He's agreed to let Gabby see his art room!"

Gabby gasped on instinct. "Really!?" Donna quickly cleared her throat, throwing a "Not the time" under her breath that reminded Gabby to stay silent.

"That's how he starts!" the Doctor shouted but Renata scoffed in disbelief. "Renata you are beyond intelligent! Can't you see he has his eyes on you!?"

"He was being kind!"

"Yes!" the Doctor's voice went high pitched there for a second. "Because that's what he does each time he wants a new wife!"

"Oh, that's preposterous! We all know he'll be meeting a new woman in a matter of months! He does not want me!" Renata's chest heaved up and down with her ragged breathing.

They heard the squeaks of shoes coming towards them. A young female servant approached them in a hasty sprint. "My Lady," she did a courtesy bow for Renata, "His Majesty has arranged for a selection of gowns to be brought in a few minutes."

Renata's eyes widened in mortification. She looked at the Doctor who couldn't be more smug that he was right. They practically heard her sharp intake of breath after that.

"That-" she jabbed her finger at the Doctor's chest, "-proves nothing!"

The Doctor swayed his head. "Actually-"

"Thank you," Renata told the young servant before storming into her room and slamming the door shut.

"You know I'm right, Renata!" the Doctor called from his spot. He opened his mouth as if to say more but closed it in the end. He awkwardly shifted until he was able to pull himself away from the door and storm away.

With a simultaneous sigh, Gabby and Donna turned to each other. What a mess, they thought the same thing. Fortunately, they both knew what to do.

"You take Renata!" Donna exclaimed at the same time Gabby exclaimed, "You take the Doctor!"

They agreed with firm nods and split after their respective Time Lord.

Gabby didn't even bother knocking on Renata's door. She burst in, demanding for Renata to hear her. "You're not going to seriously argue over some creepy King, are you!?"

Renata was sitting at her vanity desk, pulling off her necklace. "I am not speaking about this with you, Gabriella. You don't need to concern yourself over this anyways."

"Oh, don't give me that, Ren!" Gabby marched up to the Time Lady, stopping right behind her chair. "You don't like arguing with the Doctor and neither do I nor Donna."

"I wasn't arguing, I was only animatedly conversing with him."

"And yelling."

"Speaking in a slightly louder volume."

"Renata, I swear to God!"

Renata shifted in her chair to meet the girl's genuinely concerned gaze. "What do you want me to do? Apologize? I haven't done anything wrong."

"No, but you are ignoring the fact that the Doctor might be a bit right when he says King Henry likes you."

Before Renata could once again deny, or at least argue, there was knock on her door. "Come in?" Renata said, exchanging a look with Gabby.

The same young female servant from before had opened the door to allow an older man inside. He was carrying a chest that seemed pretty heavy. Behind him came two more female servants carrying smaller chests in their arms.

"My Lady, the gowns that his Majesty has sent for you," the female servant said as the man set the chest down.

"And the accompanying jewelry," one of the older female servants said as she and the other woman put the smaller chests on the drawer dresser.

Much like the Doctor had, Gabby fixated a sharp look on Renata. The Time Lady huffed but thanked the servants for bringing the things inside.

"Okay, so he might have a point..."

"He might!?" Gabby crossed her arms over her chest. "Renata, this guy is clearly trying to entice you!"

"And do you all think that I am so naive as to fall for it?" Renata stood up from her chair with new anger tracing her features. "I'm not stupid. I know how to take care of myself!"

"No one ever said that, not even the Doctor," Gabby sighed. She didn't want to argue like the Doctor had. That wasn't the way Renata would be listening to anyone. "Ren, no one is blaming you for anything. Of course Henry would like you - have you seen yourself?"

Renata playfully rolled her eyes but once Gabby saw the flushed smile, she knew that Renata was calming down. "Gabriella..."

"No, I mean it," Gabby helped Renata move around the vanity chair so that they were face to face. "You're frikin gorgeous. Of course you'd have the King of England falling for yah, though between you and me...I don't think he's the one for you." Because despite all her fears for them, Gabby was sure that Renata would be much happier with the Doctor. Gabby couldn't picture Renata choosing Henry of all people. The mere thought of it made her gag (which then caused Renata to half smile out of amusement). "But listen, I really think you and the Doctor should talk again because I think he was just trying to protect you."

Renata was quick to scoff. "Right, by shouting and treating me like I'm a child."

"Alright, so he didn't go about it the right way but you gotta admit that you were being just as childish as he was."

Renata turned her head away and instead went to inspect the small chests left on her dresser.

"Ren, do you really want to argue with the Doctor? You guys have seemed so close lately."

Renata opened one of the chests to find beautiful jewelry inside, but it didn't make her even half as happy as how she'd recently been feeling with the Doctor and their travels. Things had been going so smoothly lately. Each night when Gabby and Donna were asleep, she and the Doctor had their own little fun adventures. The Doctor would show her some rare, sometimes odd, places that would leave Renata with permanent wide eyes. Even when she got to choose, though her places were much calmer than the Doctor's, he would still have fun with her. It was amazing...and Renata didn't want to lose that.

"We have, haven't we?" Renata whispered, her lips curving into a small smile. Despite the Doctor's insistence to keep an eye on her health, they were bonding more and, perhaps, Renata often felt like they were once again the Doctor and Zuriah.

Gabby was relieved that despite everything Renata still continued to be a practical, logical woman. "Yes, so I say we get ready for this party and meet the Doctor and Donna there. I'm sure you guys can solve things if you're both willing to talk."

"You're right." Renata's agreement made Gabby sigh in relief. Renata turned around and with a brand new smile on her face too. "Let's get ready."

~ 0 ~

"Doctor! You need to stop!" Donna was doing her best to keep up with the striding Time Lord, but she was a huge disadvantage. "Doctor! C'mon! This dress weighs a lot!"

"Go to your room, Donna," the Doctor wearily said as he made a turn for his room.

"Oi! I'm not some kid you know! But you sure are acting like one!"

That jab made the Doctor stop and turn around. "Excuse me?" he frowned at her.

"Look at you, over 900 years old and you're still arguing like some jealous human bloke!"

"Jea - I am not jealous!"

Donna set a hand on her hip and arched an eyebrow. "Seriously? I'm not wasting my breath arguing over that topic. I'm more interested in how you're going to apologize to Renata."

There the Doctor scoffed and loudly too. "I'm not doing anything. I'm right and you know it."

"Well of course I know Henry's got his eyes on Ren but arguing with her is not the way you'll get her to listen. You could've explained it to her calmly, you know? There was no need to be sour nor shouty!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes at her.

"Look at me spaceman!" Donna commanded and, to her luck, he met her gaze. "It's just me, Doctor. Again. It's just you and me so please talk to me. I'm on your side and right now...you look bad." A light chuckle came to her lips. "Since when does Renata make you go all...like that?" She waved her hand at the Doctor's put-out face. She was trying not to be so smug about it since she heard the story of 1913, but the Doctor was making it clear as day what he thought about Renata. "Oh, spaceman. The uptight Time Lady has caught your eye too."

"Donna, don't say such...don't say that," the Doctor muttered and turned to continue on his way for his room.

"Why not? It's what I'm seeing - it's what I've been seeing - and it's what I heard back there," Donna went after him but thanked the heavens that he was walking at a normal pace. "You're smitten with Renata!"

"Would you stop saying that before somebody hears you!" The last thing he needed was for that to make its way to Renata. It was nonsense what Donna was saying, complete nonsense...

"Like Renata?"

"Donna!" the Doctor abruptly turned around, revealing a glowering face. "Seriously. I am not smitten! I am worried about Renata-"

"Right, and smitten."

"Donna," hissed the Doctor but with bare energy.

He was aware that lately he'd been having some specific thoughts and feelings about Renata and he honestly had no idea where they came from. But seeing Renata go off with Henry today set something off inside him. Up until now, Renata had always been with him. Whether they bickered or they had dinners or they were having regular adventures, she was always with him. He supposed he could've gotten used to the idea of having Renata with him...but he could feel there was something else. And that 'feeling', while small right now, was a bit scary. He didn't know where it came from - actually, every time he thought about it his mind would go back to 1926 where he had to kiss Renata to save her life. It was literally done to save her life yet there was a warm feeling in his chest when he thought about, remembered it...

And then 1913 popped into his head. There was so much that happened in that year, the instinct to be with Renata, to get to know her. He would never finish understanding why even his human version had been so enamored with Renata if he only knew for a short period.

"Doctor, I don't know what your plan is but I can tell you that being the jealous type isn't going to bring Renata any closer to you," Donna brought the Doctor out of his thoughts. "Plus...it's just not you. You don't shout at people, especially your friends. If you have some feelings that you're not sure about, it's fine, but please don't lie to me about it. I can see it in your eyes."

"Yeah, alright," the Doctor relented this argument with a heavy sigh. One argument was enough for him. "I don't like arguing with Renata."

"I know," Donna gave him a small nod of her head. "So don't go arguing with her you big dunce!"

"But I am right about Henry. I've seen him try the same tricks with his previous wives!"

"So then let's make sure he keeps his grubby hands off our uptight Time Lady!"

"Yeah - hold on," the Doctor pointed a finger at Donna, "Don't call her upright."

Donna scoffed in his face. "Now I know fur sure you're smitten. You used to think she's uptight-"

"I still do-" the Doctor winced when he blurted his words. Donna laughed and, despite his restraint, the Doctor chuckled a bit too. "She'd kill me right now..."

"Yeah she would," Donna leaned on him as she sobered from her laugh. "And I would so watch."

~ 0 ~

Renata and Gabby arrived at the Great Hall before the Doctor and Donna and the party was in full swing. Gabby's eyes dazzled at the dancers in the middle of the room. The room was full of people and Gabby was sure that half of them weren't even the same ones she'd met in the gardens earlier. There were long tables set against the wall behind the dancers and were full of food. Servants kept coming to drop off new plates and take away the empty ones. There were lavishing couches on the far left where people were mingling and, Renata was sure, they were doing a little bit more than just conversing about the weather.

As Lady Margaret pointed out, people were on the hunt for matches.

"Gabriella, stay away from that group," Renata had suddenly taken a tight hold around Gabby's arm.

"Hm? Why?" Gabby followed Renata's gaze towards the couches. People were just talking and laughing, albeit loudly, but she didn't see any harm.

"Just listen to my words and stay away from them," Renata pulled Gabby towards the opposite direction.

"My Lady Renata," Lady Margaret had cornered the two and was sweetly smiling, "You look darling tonight. Is it true his Majesty offered you an entire chest of gowns for tonight's occasion?"

"Wow, word flies fast around here," Gabby blurted and more-or-less glared at Margaret. She knew what kind of people that woman was. It reminded Gabby far too much of high school with the endless rumors and people who just loved to create and spread them.

"Uuh, yes, and I was very grateful for it since my sisters and I had our clothes taken to London earlier," Renata calmly explained, something Gabby admired because if it was her, she would've snapped.

"Oh," Lady Margaret seemed disappointed as she looked away, but it only last for a few seconds. "So it is true then," she said with a newfound grin on her face, "His Majesty has taken a, uh, liking to you..."

Renata's eyebrows knitted together but just as she was about to inquire what the hell Margaret knew, the King himself approached them. Lady Margaret immediately did the dutiful bow but Renata was too irritated to follow and much less make Gabby follow.

"Marchioness, you look beautiful," Henry seemed genuinely astounded with Renata's appearance but the Time Lady wished he would stop looking her up and down. "The color red was made for you."

"Thank you," Renata politely said and gave a nod of her head.

"Please, allow me to dance with you," Henry held his hand out for her.

Just like before, Renata knew that despite his kind request there was no actual option behind them. She had to dance with him. No one said 'no' to the King of England, not even her apparently. If I had pants and the TARDIS I would, she begrudgingly thought when she took Henry's hand.

"Ah, it is all true," Lady Margaret remarked as Henry led Renata away. Gabby craned her head at the woman, almost tempted to ask why she was still standing next to her, but Margaret was too engrossed in the scene. "You know, everyone knows that his Majesty is not satisfied with his wife."

"You mean the Queen?" Gabby's sharp tinge in her tone did nothing to snap Margaret out of her gossipy state. In fact, she didn't even notice Gabby was practically glaring at her.

"Her Majesty has failed to satisfy the King and now he is on the hunt for a new wife. The Marchioness seems to have played her game just right. Hm."

"Oh no," Gabby drew the line at terrible accusations. "Renata is not one of those women. Whatever you may think of her is not the truth. She only came as a visitor and she has no interest in the King."

"Gabby, what's wrong?" the Doctor asked as he and Donna approached the two women. He spotted Gabby's upset face as soon as he entered the room.

"She's spreading rumors about Renata trying to become the next wife of King Henry!" Gabby folded her arms with a huff, throwing Margaret another glare.

"What? As if!" Donna laughed beside the Doctor. "Ren could never do something like that!"

"I don't quite like the joke," the Doctor settled a hard look on Lady Margaret, but the woman seemed so certain about thoughts. "The Marchioness is a proper Lady and she would never do anything like that."

"Yeah? Well, she's accepted the King's advances and is even wearing one of the very gowns he sent her." Lady Margaret nodded towards the dancers, making the Doctor and Donna turn in their direction. "And she's dancing with the King right now. Not even her Majesty has danced with him and she's his wife."

The Doctor's hearts sunk when he saw Renata dancing with Henry. She looked absolutely stunning in her red gown, like a true Marchioness...or Queen. She had kept her tight, elegant bun and merely put a red pin on the side. Her ball gown was a deep red with flare cuff sleeves. There were a few gold and white stones accentuating her waist and the squared neckline. Her orange necklace had been replaced with a matching ruby-stone necklace.

But there was something that raised the Doctor's spirits, his hope, after studying Renata more. She had a very disgruntled face. She was upset. And if she was upset, then it meant that whatever Henry was doing was the reason she was so unhappy.

"Doctor?" Donna whispered to him, nudging him on his side. She presumed he'd once again fallen into doubts regarding Renata and she wasn't going to let it happen. "Hey, don't listen to her-"

"Lady Margaret, you should stop spreading such vile lies about the Marchioness," the Doctor looked back at the woman with a new glare, a harsher one that startled the woman. "The next time I hear one I will personally make sure you live to regret it."

Gabby actually burst into laughter when Lady Margaret rushed off in terror. The Doctor took pleasure seeing it too, but he didn't focus too much on it as he had something else to do. "Take care you two," he told his companions. "And stay away from that group over there," he made a nod towards the group on the couches like Renata had earlier then headed for the dancers.

"Seriously, what is so bad about that?" Gabby was left to ask Donna because she truly had no idea. Donna burst into laughter next.

~ 0 ~

"You know, my Lady, if you would like I can arrange for your clothes to be brought back to the palace," Henry was saying to Renata while they danced. She gave him a puzzled look for his words, but he just chuckled. "Or perhaps I can simply have an entire new wardrobe for you installed here."

"Why would I want that?" she asked.

"So you can stay of course. I have thoroughly enjoyed your company; your presence is a delight that I never want to end." He leaned just a bit too close for her liking.

She tried leaning away and when it failed, she resorted to turning her head away. "I thank you but I have my own plans. The Doctor and I have arranged to be in London by tomorrow evening, perhaps earlier." Perhaps tonight, she thought.

Henry scoffed. "Oh please, London will not have what I am offering you. You would be a fool to choose it over me."

"Then call me a fool," Renata met his irritated eyes. Her lips curved into a small smirk that only further irritated him.

"My Lady should truly think about what she is saying."

"I have always thought about what I had to say," Renata said quietly. "My error was to allow people to tell me what to do, to manipulate me. I have feelings and I think that there has only ever been two people in my life who have asked me what they were."

Her husband and the Doctor.

Her sister never bothered to - her feelings were an inconvenience that Renata needed to work on - and their parents simply accustomed themselves to ignoring them. The only things Renata needed to worry about were to always make a good impression and always act like a proper Time Lady.

Henry completely misunderstood Renata's words and so he did the only thing a confused man would do: disregard it. "Stay my Lady, and I will fill your life with everything you could possibly desire."

"A tempting offer..." Renata sourly remarked, her eyes darting to the side.

Somebody cleared their throat and to Renata's delight, it was the Doctor who had come to cut their dancing short. "Your Majesty, I have come to ask Lady Renata if she would like to dance with me." He specifically fixated his eyes on Renata, begging her to accept him at least for a bit.

Renata met his gaze and softened with relief. He still wanted to talk to her after their fight.

Henry barked a condescending laugh as if he knew Renata's answer would be 'no'. "I am very sorry Doctor, but she-"

"Yes," Renata said without a moment's hesitation and drew her hands off the King, not even noticing Henry's stunned face. "I would love to, please." She held her hands out for the Doctor, almost pleading him not to change his mind.

The Doctor took one of her hands and shot Henry a smile. He led Renata to a new spot where they could dance and hopefully talk in peace. He set one hand on her waist and held her hand tightly as if she'd be the one to leave. They began to dance just like the others but in awkward silence in the beginning. Each took their hold on each other as their first win. If they were still dancing together, then it meant they wanted to talk.

"You look very beautiful, Renée," the Doctor decided to be brave and be the one to break their silence. Plus, she really did look amazing.

Renata smiled at him. "Thank you, but I didn't accept the gown for any other reason than...it was really pretty." Her admission left her with flushed cheeks. It wasn't like her to do something like that after all.

"I wouldn't think anything else," the Doctor said and was disheartened to see her looking at him with doubt, doubt that he had created with their fight.

"You mean that?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, of course I do," he sighed. "I'm really sorry for what I said earlier. I shouldn't have - I should've never implied anything like that."

"It hurt my feelings," Renata said but averted his gaze when she felt a prickly sting in her eyes from tears.

"I know," the Doctor said, knowing she was purposely avoiding looking at him. He caused that too. "I was too upset but it's not excuse. You would never do anything like that."

When Renata finally gathered courage to raise her gaze, she showed her reddened eyes but with a graceful smile on her face. "I'm very sorry too. I don't like arguing with you, especially you."

"Yeah, I feel the same."

"You should know that I knew you were right about Henry. I was just playing dumb."

"Nooo..." the Doctor's feign of surprise elicited a light laugh from her and it was enough to make his hearts pick up.

"I know," she shook her head. "Not one of my finest moments."

"So...so are we okay?" the Doctor was cautious when he asked. He watched her intently for any clue of what her answer would be.

"Yes, of course we are," she smiled. "And if we weren't around such gossipy people I would hug you so tightly right now."

"Hm, gossipy wouldn't begin to describe them," the Doctor muttered. He thought about Lady Margaret and her foul thoughts.

"They believe I am after the King and perhaps they have a right to because I've been very careless," Renata sighed and looked down at her gown as one of the prime examples of her words. "But I couldn't care less about him."

"Oh he seems to care about you a lot," the Doctor said, making her scoff.

"He wishes he could have a Time Lady," she rolled her eyes.

The Doctor couldn't help the smirk that was quick to come to his face. He twirled Renata around then pulled her up to him, perhaps on purpose or simply fate, and smiled down at her. "You deserve only the best, Marchioness of Gallifrey."

Renata would've laughed if she wasn't so nervous under his charming gaze. If we were alone...' she started to think thoughts that left her face red, "If we were alone I might just kiss you...'

~ 0 ~

"So why on Earth did you even agree to go off with the King anyways?" Donna asked Renata once the group had left the Great Hall. The party was more or less done except for the lingering drunken people. Now the group were walking down the hallways.

"I did not go 'off' with anyone, Donna," Renata huffed. "Henry just wanted to show me the astronomical clock he had built on one of the buildings here."

Donna scoffed and mumbled under her breath, "Think he wanted to do a bit more than that."

"Look, regardless of his intentions, I actually had fun." No sooner had the words left Renata's mouth when all of sudden, she had the collective scoffs from the group. "Oh shush! I did have fun!"

"Of all the people to have fun with, you chose him?" the Doctor couldn't help the frown that marked his face. He was fun too!

"I don't know, I just...I was different. I wasn't the uptight Renata you all love to say I am," Renata shrugged, her lips curving into a wide smile the more she thought about it. "I was sort of careless, you know? He asked me-" she laughed suddenly, only deepening the frown on the Doctor's face, "-he challenged me to guess what some of the clock's functions were. He wanted to know if I knew about time! I'm a Time Lady, I basically cheated!" She giggled. It was a novel sight for the trio. Renata always held herself to a different, more serious, place so there was hardly every any childish giggles.

"Alright, I get it," Donna was beyond amused with the sight. "I mean, it wasn't really careless but I guess in your eyes it was since you're usually always, uh..." She was going to finish that with 'uptight' but she didn't want to ruin Renata's mood.

"Yeah," Gabby crossed her arms. "It's just carefree fun from your perspective but fun nonetheless...I guess." Renata sure seemed to think so judging by the grin on her face. "So can we see the clock tomorrow? Or...are we leaving tonight?

"No, you still have to see the art room Henry promised," Renata pointed. She would make sure that Henry lived up to his promise. "And you're going to see it. For right now, I think it's best if we all go to our rooms for some rest."

So, they dropped Donna off in her room first then Gabby - with the same warning for them not to leave their rooms until morning - and finally Renata.

"Now I'm going to seriously ask that you make sure your door is closed," the Doctor said, even showing Renata how to check the door.

Renata laughed softly. "Yes, alright. But don't think just because you happened to be right this time that I'll always listen to you."

"Wouldn't dream of it," the Doctor said, playfully rolling his eyes. He bid her goodnight and headed for his own room.

He wasn't planning on sleeping anyways but once his thoughts kept drifting to Renata and Henry, it was impossible to stay still. Hours passed by and he couldn't keep his thoughts from running away.

The idea of Henry trying to charm Renata was infuriating enough, but now he was thinking about what Renata said on their way back from the party. She had fun with Henry? With him?

"I've taken you to see galaxies but you have fun with him?" the Doctor stopped pacing just to scoff.

Well, she wasn't endangered or anything. She probably didn't have to run for her life. The voice in his head started making some good points. She definitely hadn't nearly fallen off a building or was carried off by a space butterfly net.

"Aren't you supposed to be on my side?" he frowned and looked up as if the voice was right above him. He exhaled. He was losing his mind.

You lost your mind centuries ago.

The Doctor's face fell flat for a few seconds until an idea struck him. He started grinning in the next moment. "No point trying to get it back. Might as well do something good without a mind." It's what he did best.

~0~

Renata was nowhere near asleep when someone knocked on her door. At first she thought it was Henry himself coming for her, an idea that enraged her and had her storming towards the doors to give him a piece of her mind, but then she heard the Doctor's soft call.

She opened the door to find him on the other side. "Doctor, what are you doing?"

"Same as you, not tired," he said and looked over her party gown.

Renata self consciously wrapped an arm around herself. "...I like the gown."

"It suits you, Marchioness," the Doctor smiled at her.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was just thinking...how's about we have a little adventure on our own?" he quirked an eyebrow at her, reminding her too much of the way his first incarnation would often pull the same stunt.

"I...I...what do you mean? Where to?" And there she went doing the same thing her first incarnation would do: be curious about the shenanigan the Doctor had in mind.

"I know that the King has a royal library all to himself. It's chock-full of books and other little trinkets he has around. You want to check it out?" The Doctor watched the curiosity fill Renata's eyes and, he dared to think, temptation. There was a small thrill that came with his idea and he loved it. He hadn't felt that kind of thrill in...in a very long time.

Unknowingly to the Doctor, Renata was thinking the same thing. It was the same old story no matter how much time passed. She would be doing whatever was expected of her, he would show up with a crazy idea, she'd pretend like it didn't interest her, he would persuade her...and then they would go off to do that crazy idea.

"We might get caught..." she weakly argued, but she knew it was a lost cause when the Doctor smirked.

"We might...or might not be..." he held his hand out for her and despite everything screaming that it was a bad idea, Renata took his hand. The Doctor pulled her out and smiled at her little yelp. He reached past her to close her door and then the two were off.

Renata felt like a child the way she kept giggling. It was why they almost got caught in one of the hallways. The Doctor had to pull them against the wall and motion her to keep quiet. They kept themselves pressed against the wall until the guard passed.

And then the run began again.

The Doctor kept a tight hold on Renata's hand all the way to the library's hallway. He poked his head into the new hallway and saw two guards posted in front of the library doors.

Renata poked her head beside the Doctor's and made a face at the two guards. "He needs two guards to watch his library? Who would want to steal his books?" The Doctor said nothing but slowly turned his head at her to make her re-evaluate her words. What were they trying to do again? She flushed when she got it. "Oh...right."

"It's no problem," the Doctor pulled out his sonic from his coat and pointed it at the end of the hallway.

One whir of the sonic caused a decorative table to lose its structure and break down. Renata flinched when the table legs hit the ground and the glassy smashed. The guards quickly rushed towards it thinking an intruder was afoot...and they were.

"And now!" the Doctor grabbed Renata's hand and scurried down the hallway together. The guards were too focused on the broken table to see either Time Lord sneak into the library.

Renata was in full blown laughter once they were safely inside. "I can't believe we just did that!"

"Me neither," the Doctor admitted after sonicking the doors shut. He turned around to face the giggling Time Lady and fondly smiled at her. "I'm impressed. Didn't think you had it in you."

"Oh I am full of surprises!" she wagged a finger at him then turned around to get a better look of where they were.

The library was a grand room with marbleized flooring. There were shelves and shelves of books. There were several arm chairs around the room, indicating that there was only one person allowed inside.

"Ah, those are...interesting..." Renata stopped exploring when she found a few animal heads mounted on the wall.

The Doctor came up behind her and gazed at the big ole bear head. "Henry's really big on hunting."

"And jousting," Renata's comment made the Doctor give her a glance. "He mentioned you and him used to joust. I can certainly picture that."

The Doctor smirked proudly. "We'd get a little competitive."

"You two were good friends before I came along. I would hate for your friendship to end because of me." With a sigh, Renata moved away from the Doctor.

"Oh...no, Renée," he went after her to clarify where he stood with Henry, "Look, Henry and I are friends but we both know what happens to his behavior in his later years. That's not really the Henry I met. The Henry I knew was far different than this old greedy, grubby version. He was fun. We used to have exquisite conversations about music and art. You should've seen us, Renée."

"Sorry," Renata still felt compelled to say, not for her or their situation but because it sounded like the Doctor was still upset over the loss of the Henry he knew years ago.

"Ah, don't worry. I've got new friends," he smiled at her and turned her for the bookshelves. "And one of my friends happens to enjoy sneaking about with me, so..." He grinned when Renata huffed in outrage.

"I do not!"

"You're here, aren't you?"

Renata's eyes followed him as he went down an aisle of bookshelves. He dragged his hands along either shelf, picking out books at random.

"Want a peek?" he tauntingly waved a book at her.

Renata thought he looked incredibly handsome right now. She needed to push those thoughts away. With a deep breath, she walked up to him and snatched the book from his hands. "Wipe that smug smile off your face," she said calmly and walked around him.

"Me? Smug? I would never!" He turned after her.

Renata took advantage of the entire room. She peeked at every book she could get her hands on, finding the humans' early concept of writing simply fascinating. Many things were wrong, which she pointed out to the Doctor, but the mere fact that the humans wrote with such confidence and research was heartwarming.

"Even in such primitive times they work so hard," she remarked after going through one of the astrological notes Henry had collected. "I mean it's wrong but, all the same...it's admiring."

"I told you humans are fascinating," the Doctor came up behind her with a handheld mirror.

"Too bad Henry, as educated as he actually is, he's also a bit conceded," Renata held the tip of the handheld mirror and gave it a light wave. "Not to mention a coldhearted murderer."

"Mm," the Doctor could only hum in agreement.

Renata returned the notes to its proper place. Meanwhile, the Doctor drifted towards one of the shelves on the right.

"Oh, have we gone to Paris for an opera show?" he suddenly asked after pulling out a opera somebody had written for Henry.

"What?" Renata laughed shortly.

"I'm thinking we should go one of these days."

Renata continued to laugh. "You at an opera? Forgive me for laughing but I don't think you could handle staying quiet."

"I could too!" the Doctor frowned, but she kept on laughing.

She backtracked with a hand on her stomach. "I don't...I don't think-"

The Doctor's eyes widened when he saw she was approaching one of the tables. "Renée!"

But it was too late, Renata's back pushed the table and tipped it over. She stopped laughing the moment she heard the crash of the ground. "Oh no!" she gasped with a hand over her mouth.

"Quick, hide!" she heard the Doctor exclaim and without thinking, the pair ran behind the first aisle of shelves. They took position at each end of the shelves.

The same guards from before came running into the room.

"Who's there!?" one of them demanded while the second guard studied the broken table.

"Just like before," he murmured.

"I think it's one of the drinkers from the feast," the first guard said. "Probably out of his mind. Come on out!"

Renata tried her best not to make any noises, especially because she felt like her hearts were about to implode under her chest. She threw a look at the Doctor at the end of the bookshelf, asking him what were they going to do. But of course he had a plan. He always made up plans to get them out just before they would get caught. If they evaded the Time Lords, they could surely evade 16th century human guards.

'On my signal,' he mouthed to her. She nodded fervently. He aimed his sonic at the window and with one flick, the entire window shattered.

"Over there!" the second guard ran straight for it, prompting the first guard to leave the table forgotten.

The Doctor made a nod at Renata to go now. The two ran straight for the open doors as fast as they could. They joined hands as soon as they got into the hallway and continued to run.

Suddenly, Renata saw them running down the hallway of the academy after nearly getting caught wandering through the classes and prohibited rooms for students. And it made her hearts sore. She felt as carefree as she used to be with the Doctor as Zuriah. They were young, they were full of adrenaline and...they were in love.

Even the Doctor got the faint sense that this was all familiar, a bit too familiar, but the running made him push the thought to the side for now. He yanked Renata down the hallway of her bedroom and finally slowed down.

"That was incredible!" Renata was laughing melodically beside him. She brought a hand up to her hair bun that was on the verge of falling apart from all their running. She yelped in surprise when the Doctor gently brought her from her side to his front. Her free hand had come to rest over his chest and her other hand seemed locked under the Doctor's free hand.

"You had fun?" the Doctor asked quietly though with his ragged breathing it came out a little louder than intended. They were both still trying to catch their breaths, they could feel it. Renata felt the Doctor's chest heaving up and down under her hand and since Renata's chest was pressed to his, the Doctor could feel her own heavy breathing.

"Of course..." Renata swallowed down and laughed, hoping the air would fill her lungs soon. "I always have fun with you!" She had no idea what her words meant to the Doctor, especially right now. All she saw was his grin making its mark on his face. "Maybe tomorrow we can, uh, I can show you the, uh...the..." She was beginning to lose her train of thought the more she stared at the Doctor.

Yet another thing he used to do during their adventures back then.

He really did have gorgeous eyes, didn't he? They were the same from his first incarnation, honestly, with the only difference being the years that'd gone by. His eyes was how he charmed his way into her life and got her to break the rules. He never had to force her; he claimed there was a little part of her that wanted to have fun and be carefree, he only helped her come out. She wasn't all 'uptight' as each of her incarnations had been, she did like to have to fun and forget about the rules sometimes.

Like right now.

Right now the proper thing to do was to step away from the Doctor and bid him goodnight, but she wasn't doing either thing. In fact, it seemed like they were even closer now than they were a few seconds ago. The Doctor had lowered his head to meet her gaze and if he moved just a bit forwards, their lips would meet too.

Right now, the right thing to do was to leave.

'If we were alone, I might just kiss you...' The thought of when they were dancing came rushing back, but Renata was too far-gone to blush about it.

And the thoughts running in the Doctor's head weren't making him want to pull away anytime soon. He just kept thinking about her running with him, sneaking into a forbidden room, their talks while they got around the room. It was irrelevant conversations but it was the fact that she was playing along with his ridiculous plan that made his hearts swell. Donna probably would've been bored out of her mind and Gabby would've opted for a much calmer plan. Renata just understood him, even if it was hard for her sometimes. She went along with his conversations, even comforting him with something as indifferent as his old friendship with King Henry.

Something about it was familiar but it wasn't what was bringing him closer to Renata. He was just drawn to her whether he could see it or not, and up until now he hadn't seen it. Now that he had...her lips looked far too taunting to let them go.

Renata's breath hitched the moment the Doctor let his lips brush over hers and whether she would've gasped or not she didn't know because she just let him kiss her right there. She let his hand go and brought it to his chest while he lowered his hand to her waist. He kissed her gently, keeping it slow and sweet, unknowingly the same as the very first time they had kissed centuries ago. Later on, Renata would find it ironic that even that was the same. As seconds ticked by, they found their (old) sync and moved their lips with one another like it was a slow dance. Renata felt her body tingle when the Doctor's hand reached up to the nape of her neck where her loose bun was about to be undone. He pulled lightly on the strands to then run his fingers through them, eventually making the whole bun come down. It didn't matter; it just gave the Doctor an easier access to her curls.

But a few seconds later, the two heard the running footsteps down the next hall.

Renata pushed herself away from the Doctor, eyes wide in alarm and not just because of what happened. "You gotta go! They'll catch us!"

As much as he would love to stay with her, he had to agree. Getting caught would completely ruin the night (and it had been such a good night). "Go into your room quick."

Renata nodded and ushered him to run. "Go! Run, Doctor!"

He smiled as if asking her 'When, don't I?' then took off. Renata hurried into her own room, closing the door just as she heard guards came by. They were still searching for the 'drunk' who'd snuck into the King's private room.

Renata quietly laughed to herself and came up to the side of her bed. She wasn't sleepy before but now there was no way she could ever shut her eyes. She pushed herself back against the bed's headboard and deeply exhaled.

You're an idiot, she concluded but there wasn't a part of her that was sad about it. Being an idiot led to such a fun moment, a fun night...and a pretty good ending. Her fingers brushed over her lips and soon found herself smiling.

~ 0 ~

The next morning, Renata walked into the Great Hall for breakfast and was amazed at how clean it was after such a night. It didn't even look like there'd been a party last night. She was about to choose her seat when Queen Anne called for her.

"Marchioness Renata, join me," she patted the empty spot next to her.

Renata read the room and instantly knew that this wasn't something the Queen would do often, but she still gave a nod and headed for the chair Anne motioned to. "Good morning, your Majesty," she did the customary bow and took a seat.

"Morning," Anne studied the nervous shift Renata did every few seconds. "I must say, your hair is looks far better when it's not in that strict, tight bun."

"What?" Renata's hand instinctively flung to her wavy curls left down today. "Oh, uh...thank you." A blush ran across her face at the reason why she'd left her hair completely alone. She could still feel the Doctor's fingers going through it at times. "Left it on a whim."

Anne smiled and reached for a piece of bread to place on her tray. "I'm sure."

It was then that Renata realized that Anne must still be thinking that she was after the King, her husband. She swallowed hard and shifted in her chair. "Your Majesty, I know there must be some terrible rumors out there about me and, uh, the King, but I assure you that I am not looking for a husband. I have no interest in becoming a...a mistress." Even the word disgusted her and Anne must have seen it too because she laughed.

"Well of I course I know!"

Renata froze in her seat, her eyes blinking rapidly for a few seconds. "...you...you know?"

Anne sobered from her laugh to smile. "Of course I do. I mean, I did suspect in the beginning but after seeing you at the celebration I knew my suspicions were misplaced."

"Wh-wh-what made you think that?"

Anne gave Renata a specific look that, while it took Renata few minutes to read, made it seem like the answer was obvious. "Lady Renata, I know what the rumors say about me, but I assure you that I am smart. I may not be smart about English culture but I know my German culture very well. You are not interested in my husband because your heart belongs to the Doctor. I saw the way you looked at him last night while you were dancing, and no woman looks at a man like that without loving him."

Renata's mouth opened but instead of saying words, all that came out was a heavy exhale. "Oh, you are...you are very perceptive."

Anne smiled knowingly. "I am. I also know when my husband is trying to find a woman. I am no fool. I know that he does not want me for a wife any longer. I shall expect the annulment very soon but I will not end up like his previous wives. The mistake they all did was to say no. I will not do the same."

"You're going to let him annul your marriage," Renata said quietly, almost feeling bad for her if Henry wasn't as bad as he actually was. It would be freedom when Anne got her settlement.

"Of course," Anne nodded. "So you see, even if you had been interested in becoming the next Queen of England, I would not have been that upset."

"But I'm not!" Renata quickly said, as if Anne would go back to thinking that. "I'm really, really not!"

Anne chuckled. "Yes, I noted that. Can I ask you something, though?"

"Of course."

Anne leaned closer to speak in a hushed whisper, "You and the Doctor are not from around here, are you? And those 'sisters' you say...are not your sisters, right?"

Renata's eyes once again widened. "How...why would you say that?"

"Because I have seen some of the portraits that Henry commissioned years ago and while Henry has aged...the Doctor has not. And the last time I remembered, there is no Marchioness of Gallifrey."

"Ah, well," Renata pressed the skirt of her gown, unsure of how to move on from here.

"Do not worry, I have no interest in outing you. Why would I? You seem so like your are so much fun!"

"Me?" Renata's eyes snapped up to meet Anne's. "You think I'm fun?"

"Yes! You seem to know what you want, you know what you're doing-"

Renata had to laugh this time. "Oh, your Majesty, you've got it all wrong!"

~ 0 ~

When the Doctor, Donna and Gabby came into the room, the first thing they spotted was Renata conversing with the Queen. She was smiling, looking as if she'd just been laughing. The Doctor thought she looked exceptionally beautiful today. Even the sun seemed to shine bright over her like she was a goddess.

"Well, you two seem better," Donna's remark pulled the Doctor out of his thoughts. He blinked away from Renata and noticed that Gabby was already on her way to sit next to her. Donna had stuck around to study her best friend. "She's not scowling and you've got your idiot face back on."

"Idiot fa - what!?" the Doctor frowned at her.

Donna smirked. "It's true, moving on. I take you talked at some point in the night?"

The Doctor immediately coughed as if he actually had something stuck in his throat. It was loud enough to pull Renata's attention and see him and Donna lingering by the entrance.

"I wonder what Donna said this time," Gabby remarked beside Renata.

Renata smiled lightly. "Oh, I bet she said something alright. That's Donna...and that's the Doctor."

"I'm just glad you guys are okay now...you are better now, right?"

Renata felt her face warm up so she did her best to keep it hidden from Gabby. She couldn't do the same with the Queen. "We, uh, we are." And she would leave it at that because even she was having trouble putting her thoughts in order. She would have to at some point.

"Your Majesty," the Doctor came by with Donna at his side.

"Doctor," the Queen gave him the nod to take a seat.

He was quick to do so and once he was comfortable, he flashed Renata and Gabby a smile. "Ladies." He met Renata's gaze and let his smile linger with hers.

~ 0 ~

"Oh, so this is the famous clock," Donna cocked her head to the side as she followed the movements of the clock hanging on the wall.

"I think it's pretty!" Gabby exclaimed and glanced at Renata and the Doctor, the two of them standing next to each other. "I can see why you wanted to show us."

"I thought it was beautiful and the fact it's handmade is another reason to admire it," Renata smiled contently. The astronomical clock would certainly be her favorite thing she saw in this trip.

"Certainly," the Doctor agreed. He would give Henry his credit where it was due. The clock was built beautifully and correctly. But that was all that he would give the King. And speaking of...

"Ah, Lady Renata," King Henry approached the group, choosing to ignore everyone else but the blonde Marchioness. "You disappeared last night from the celebration."

"Did I?" Renata scratched her cheek, feigning confusion. She remembered that she specifically tried to avoid him last night, and today as well.

"And then you spent all morning with my wife," Henry said so as if Renata should be ashamed for wasting her time. "Surely that could not have been pleasurable."

"Actually, her Majesty is quite interesting," Renata smiled and glanced at the others. They agreed with simultaneous nods. Renata and Anne seemed to get along now that their intentions were clear. "And contrary to what you told me, her Majesty is very educated. I think you failed to mention that she knows plenty German."

Henry rolled his eyes. "My Lady, let us not waste breaths on the Queen. I have appointed you a new bedchamber far more appropriate for you."

"Oh, uh, we are actually..."

"We're leaving today, Henry," the Doctor said seriously. "We were actually going to leave right after lunch."

"What? But the Marchioness has agreed to stay here," Henry met Renata's surprised expression quite well as he did not look the least bit guilty for making up the lie on the spot. His eyes practically ordered her to agree.

With a huff, she responded, "I most certainly did not. I specifically said I would not because we had to go to London."

"Surely you cannot be choosing to go to London over-"

"I said this before!" Renata exclaimed with another huff. "Did you not listen to any of my words!?"

"Probably not," the Doctor muttered. "My good friend Henry has selective hearing."

Henry scoffed. "Listen Doctor, stay out of my royal business. This is between the Marchioness and myself."

"It's really not," the Doctor scowled at the King. "I am here to assist the Marchioness and her sisters-"

"Oh please! We all know that's not true! You're after the Marchioness too!"

"Hey!" Renata cut in and placed herself between the two. "The Marchioness can speak for herself, you know!?"

"Shouldn't we help Ren?" Gabby whispered to Donna but the ginger was keenly watching the trio.

"No...I'm interested..."

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, I do not care for the fact you're making up lies. I thanked you for your offer but I didn't accept. I am leaving with the Doctor and my sisters today."

Henry shot a glare at Renata and the Doctor. "The King decrees you shall not."

"Excuse me?" Renata almost laughed but when she looked at Henry's face that wasn't lightening up. "You're...you're actually serious?"

"He is, Renée," the Doctor took her hand and tightly held it. "Because that's basically how he gets what he wants."

"That did not seem to bother you in our old times," Henry was quick to say, smirking as if he'd just proven a good point.

"Because you weren't talking about people!" snapped the Doctor. "You were talking about food! Books! Not people! Renata is not somebody you can snap your fingers to get!"

"When you are the King of England you can."

"I will not stand here and be insulted," Renata scowled. She felt her body warm up but it wasn't the good type of warm she'd felt with the Doctor, it was the sicky warm type she experienced when the visited Agatha Christie. She checked her fingers and was mortified to once again see the golden wisps of energy rising. She balled them up quickly. "Doctor, I...I don't feel so well..."

The Doctor side-glanced to see her face incredibly pale, not to mention her hand in his had become excessively warm. "Hey," he turned to her and cupped her face. Her eyes were blinking rapidly and he swore he saw something gold flicker past them.

"Hands off, Doctor," Henry ordered. "Or I shall call my guards and have them escort you and the sisters out of my castle!"

"Oh screw off!" the Doctor snapped, shocking the King.

"Doctor, we should get her back to the TARDIS," Gabby quickly said, her mind already going to dangerous scenarios with Renata's health.

"She is not going anywhere!" the King insisted but the Doctor threw him a glare that stopped him for a moment.

"We are leaving and you have no say in that!"

"Do not forget who I am, Doctor," Henry said just before he started calling for the guards.

"Doctor, we should run! Like now!" Donna exclaimed.

"Yeah, let's...run!" he told them. He grabbed Renata's hand and pulled them into a run. Renata was eternally grateful that the golden energy was gone by then.

"Gabby, I am so sorry I couldn't show you the art room!" Renata found time to apologize during their run.

"That's okay!" Gabby quickly said, yelping when one of the guards started shooting. "All forgotten! Let's just go!"

"Do you think we can make it!?" Renata cried after nearly tripping on one of her feet. These dresses were not made for running away! "You couldn't have let Henry believe for a minute that he'd won so we could have a head start!?"

"Oh, so this is my fault now!?" the Doctor threw her an indignant glance.

"No, well...maybe!? I don't know - I don't feel well!"

"Oh God, get a room later but for now just RUN!" Donna's shout echoed through the forest as they all ran their very best from the guards chasing them.

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

Author’s Note: Aaaaaand they kissed! Stupid idiots, but they kissed! It'll continue to pop up in the next chapters! And speaking of...ladies and gents, from here on out we are reaching the end of this story. I'm just going to tell you right now that I am not doing Midnight. I tried fitting it in with what this story is going to have but...I couldn't do it. After what happens in the next chapters, I just could NOT see either Time Lord going on the Midnight train. But I do make it up by adding a few original chapters towards the end (warning it's a lot of angst!).

So...just be ready for the next chapter :))

#doctor who #10th doctor #ocappreciation #ocapp #10th doctor fics #10th doctor imagines #dw imagine #dw imagines #doctor who imagines #doctor who imagine #10th doctor imagine #donna noble #oc: Renata Cartwright #gabby gonzalez #fic: the beginning of everything

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theliberaltony · 4 years

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via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Joe Biden currently has a robust lead in polls. If the election were held today, he might even win in a landslide, carrying not only traditional swing states such as Florida and Pennsylvania but potentially adding new states such as Georgia and Texas to the Democratic coalition.

But the election is not being held today. While the polls have been stable so far this year, it’s still only August. The debates and the conventions have yet to occur. Biden only named his running mate yesterday. And the campaign is being conducted amidst a pandemic the likes of which the United States has not seen in more than 100 years, which is also causing an unprecedented and volatile economy.

Nor has it been that uncommon, historically, for polls to shift fairly radically from mid-August until Election Day. Furthermore, there are some reasons to think the election will tighten, and President Trump is likely to have an advantage in a close election because of the Electoral College.

That, in a nutshell, is why the FiveThirtyEight presidential election forecast, which we launched today, still has Trump with a 29 percent chance of winning the Electoral College, despite his current deficit in the polls. This is considerably higher than some other forecasts, which put Trump’s chances at around 10 percent. Biden’s chances are 71 percent in the FiveThirtyEight forecast, conversely.14

If these numbers give you a sense of deja vu, it may be because they’re very similar to our final forecast in 2016 … when Trump also had a 29 percent chance of winning! (And Hillary Clinton had a 71 percent chance.) So if you’re not taking a 29 percent chance as a serious possibility, I’m not sure there’s much we can say at this point, although there’s a Zoom poker game that I’d be happy to invite you to.

One last parallel to 2016 — when some models gave Clinton as high as a 99 percent chance of winning — is that FiveThirtyEight’s forecast tends to be more conservative than others. (For a more complete description of our model, including how it is handling some complications related to COVID-19, please see our methodology guide.)

With that said, one shouldn’t get too carried away with the comparisons to four years ago. In 2016, the reason Trump had a pretty decent chance in our final forecast was mostly just because the polls were fairly close (despite the media narrative to the contrary), close enough that even a modest-sized polling error in the right group of states could be enough to give Trump a victory in the Electoral College.

The uncertainty in our current 2020 forecast, conversely, stems mostly from the fact that there’s still a long way to go until the election. Take what happens if we lie to our model and tell it that the election is going to be held today. It spits out that Biden has a 93 percent chance of winning. In other words, a Trump victory would require a much bigger polling error than what we saw in 2016.

Let’s briefly expand on the points I made above.

Biden’s lead is pretty impressive

In this article — partly as a corrective against what I see as overconfident assessments elsewhere — I’m mostly focused on the reasons why Trump’s chances are higher than they might appear. But we should be clear: Trump’s current position in the polls is poor.

Biden is currently ahead in our polling averages in Florida, Wisconsin, Michigan, Pennsylvania, Arizona, Ohio and in the second congressional district in Nebraska — all places that Clinton lost in 2016. If he won those states (and held the other states Clinton won), that would be enough to give him 352 electoral votes. He’s also within roughly 1 percentage point of Trump in Texas, Georgia, Iowa and Maine’s second congressional district. If he won those, too, he’d be up to a whopping 412 electoral votes.

It’s important to remember that the uncertainty in our forecast runs in both directions. There’s the chance that Trump could come back — but there’s also the chance that things could get really out of hand for him. Our model thinks there’s a 19 percent chance that Biden will win Alaska, for example, and a 13 percent chance that he will win South Carolina. The model also gives Biden a 30 percent chance of a double-digit win in the popular vote, which would be the first time that happened since 1984.

But there are downside scenarios for Biden.

Polls often change substantially between now and November

Every day, my colleague Nathaniel Rakich tweets out a list of what our national polling average would have looked like at this stage in past campaigns. And it can be a pretty wild ride. Here is Tuesday’s version, for instance.

The @FiveThirtyEight nat'l polling average with 84 days until E-Day:

2020: Biden+8.3 2016: Clinton+6.6 2012: Obama+0.5 2008: Obama+2.6 2004: Kerry+2.5 2000: Bush+10.0 1996: Clinton+11.3 1992: Clinton+20.1 1988: Dukakis+5.6 1984: Reagan+16.0 1980: Reagan+22.1 1976: Carter+26.6

— Nathaniel Rakich (@baseballot) August 11, 2020

Three of the candidates leading in national polls at this point — Michael Dukakis in 1988, George W. Bush in 2000, and John Kerry in 2004 — did not actually win the popular vote. Bush blew a 10-point lead, in fact, which is larger than Biden’s current advantage. (Luckily for Bush, he won the Electoral College.) In other cases, the polls at this point “called” the winner correctly, but the margins were way off. Jimmy Carter eventually beat Gerald Ford by just 2.1 percentage points — not the 26.6-point lead he had at this point in the campaign. Bill Clinton won by 5.6 points — not 20.1 points. And Barack Obama won a considerably more commanding victory in 2008 than polls at this point projected.

Now, there are some mitigating factors here. Some of these polls were taken at the height of a candidate’s convention bounce, although there are ways to try to correct for those. And in general, polls have become less volatile over time, probably because increased polarization means there are fewer swing voters than there once were. The polls have been particularly stable so far this year, in fact.

But while there are some factors that reduce uncertainty, there are other factors that increase it.

COVID-19 is a big reason to avoid feeling overly confident about the outcome

The COVID-19 pandemic has led to more than 150,000 fatalities and has upended pretty much every American’s life, and Trump’s approval ratings for his handling of it have been awful.

But to the extent this is an election about COVID-19, there’s the possibility that the situation could improve between now and November. Cases have recently begun to come down after an early-summer spike, and recent economic data has shown improvement there, too. There’s also the possibility that a vaccine could be approved — or rushed out — by November, though it’s highly unlikely it could be widely distributed by then.

How to account for this? No, we aren’t building a COVID-19 projection model. (It’s really hard.) But we have built an “uncertainty index” that essentially governs the margin of error in our forecast. It contains eight components, two of which are very high because of COVID-19. Specifically, these are the high volatility in recent economic data, and the volume of major news events, as measured by the number of full-width New York Times headlines. There’s more news this year — not just about COVID-19, but the protests around police brutality, Trump’s impeachment earlier this year, etc. — than in any recent election campaign.

We also expect turnout to be harder to predict this year based on primary elections held during the pandemic that had highly variable turnout — which, in turn, could lead to more polling error. So even if the polls don’t change that much between now and November, that could create some additional uncertainty on Election Day. See the methodology guide for more on how we handle COVID-19.

But the other components of the uncertainty index are low, pointing toward a stable campaign. For instance, polarization is high, poll movement so far has been limited, and there aren’t that many undecided voters; the index accounts for all of those things.

In fact, the uncertainty index points toward the overall uncertainty going into November being about average relative to past presidential campaigns. So our model isn’t necessarily saying that things are going to get crazy, although they could. But it’s also saying you shouldn’t necessarily expect highly stable campaigns like 2012 to be the new normal in the time of COVID-19. (And keep in mind that 2016 was a pretty volatile campaign, too, even without COVID-19.) Empirically, the polls can move quite a bit from August to November, more than you might expect intuitively!

There are some sources of uncertainty that the model doesn’t account for, however. We assume that there are reasonable efforts to allow eligible citizens to vote and to count all legal ballots, and that electors are awarded to the popular-vote winner in each state. The model also does not account for the possibility of extraconstitutional shenanigans by Trump or by anyone else, such as trying to prevent mail ballots from being counted.

It’s hard to know what the “fundamentals” say

I’ve long been critical of models that use economic “fundamentals” to try to predict election results, mostly because — although they claim to be highly precise — they haven’t actually been very good at predicting the outcome of an election where they don’t already know the results.

And those models are especially likely to have problems this year because of highly variable economic data. One model based on second quarter GDP projects Trump to win -453 (negative 453!) electoral votes, for example. But if you built a model based on third-quarter GDP, which is expected to be highly positive, it might predict a Trump landslide.

This isn’t to say that we don’t employ a fundamentals forecast of our own. We do, but it’s much less confident than others, and it receives relatively little weight in the overall forecast. It also isn’t currently that bad for Trump. In fact, it essentially predicts the popular vote to be roughly tied. Why?

Although three of the economic factors we use in the model (jobs, spending, manufacturing) have been terrible, a fourth component (income) has been very strong because of government subsidies in the form of the CARES Act, though that could change if stimulus payments lapse. The fifth and sixth components, inflation and the stock market, have also been reasonably favorable.

Most of the variables that declined are now improving, and are expected to continue to improve. (Our model projects what the economy will look like by November rather than relying on current data.)

High polarization potentially blunts the impact of a poor economy.

Trump is an elected incumbent, and elected incumbents are usually favored for reelection.

We extended our analysis back to elections since 1880 (!) to expand the sample size, and found the relationship between the economy and the election likely isn’t as strong as other models claim, anyway.

In other words, our forecast thinks it’s far from obvious that the economy will doom Trump, especially if he can tell a story of recovery by November. Indeed, Trump’s approval ratings on the economy are still fairly good, so our model seems to be doing a reasonably good job of capturing how voters actually feel about the economy.

Another way to look at it is that our model is just saying that, in a highly polarized environment, the race is more likely than not to tighten in the stretch run. Empirically, large leads like the one Biden has now tend to dissipate to some degree by Election Day. And if the race does tighten…

Trump appears to have an Electoral College advantage again

Our model says there’s an 81 percent chance that Biden wins the popular vote — compared to his 71 percent chance in the Electoral College. That means there’s about a 10 percent chance that Trump again wins the Electoral College despite losing the popular vote. (Conversely, the model puts the chance that Biden wins the Electoral College but loses the popular vote at only around 1 in 750.)

That reflects the fact that the tipping-point state — the state that would provide the decisive 270th electoral vote — is somewhat to the right of the national popular vote. More specifically, our projection as of Tuesday had Biden winning the popular vote by 6.3 percentage points nationally, but winning the tipping-point state, Wisconsin, by a smaller margin, 4.5 percentage points:

The Electoral College could once again help Trump

Forecasted vote margin in battleground states and lean relative to the nation, from FiveThirtyEight’s presidential forecast as of Aug. 11

State forecasted vote margin Lean relative to nation New Mexico D+11.8 D+5.5 Virginia D+10.6 D+4.3 Colorado D+9.2 D+2.9 Maine statwide D+8.2 D+1.9 Michigan D+6.9 D+0.6 New Hampshire D+6.4 D+0.1 National D+6.3 EVEN Nevada D+6.2 R+0.1 Minnesota D+4.7 R+1.6 Pennsylvania D+4.7 R+1.6 Wisconsin* D+4.5 R+1.8 Florida D+3.2 R+3.1 Nebraska 2nd District D+0.9 R+5.4 Arizona D+0.8 R+5.5 North Carolina D+0.3 R+6.0 Ohio R+1.0 R+7.3 Georgia R+2.8 R+9.1 Maine 2nd District R+3.9 R+10.2 Iowa R+4.3 R+10.6 Texas R+4.4 R+10.7

* Wisconsin is the tipping-point state as of Aug. 11.

That 1.8-point gap is actually smaller than what Clinton experienced in 2016, when there was about a 3-point gap between her losing margin in Wisconsin (which was also the tipping-point state in 2016) and her winning margin in the national popular vote. This analysis is a simplification, too. There’s a lot of uncertainty in the outlook, so the tipping-point state could easily turn out to be Florida or Pennsylvania or something more unexpected like North Carolina.

Still, as a rough rule-of-thumb, perhaps you can subtract 2 points from Biden’s current lead in national polls to get a sense for what his standing in the tipping point states looks like. Add it all up, and you can start to see why the model is being fairly cautious. Biden’s current roughly 8-point lead in national polls is really more like a 6-point lead in the tipping point states. And 6-point leads in August are historically not very safe. That margin is perhaps more likely than not to tighten and at the very least, there’s a fair amount of uncertainty about what COVID-19 and the rest the world will look like by November.

Biden is in a reasonably strong position: Having a 70-ish percent chance of beating an incumbent in early August before any conventions or debates is far better than the position that most challengers find themselves in. And his chances will improve in our model if he maintains his current lead. But for the time being, the data does not justify substantially more confidence than that.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Nate Silver

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almondharry · 5 years

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you look so good [9.1k]

“Let’s get some pasta, green beans, kidney beans, and some lentils.”

Genevieve’s nose scrunched. “I don’t even know what to do with lentils.”

“I have a great recipe for a dal curry. I’ll teach you, it’ll be perfect. We can make a whole day out of it.”

A whole day? For lentils? Genevieve opened and closed her mouth shut, no words came out.

Arnold’s Singularity Theory

October 26, 2019

Her back was hunched over the wooden desk beside her bed. The high pitched ringing of her alarm snapped her eyes open at six in the morning. The sky was a navy blue; she could make out the few dog walkers on the street. It was her only day off, but the piled work on her table argued otherwise.

Genevieve was alone in her freezing apartment. The heating was broken and when she told Mr. Goldwin, her landlord, he didn’t have his hearing aid on. She had a routine for Sundays: Wake up. Do practice problems. Make a cup of tea. Sleep.

A dull ache prodded between her shoulder blades, her spine was sorely unaligned. Her face was all sunken cheeks and shades of grey. The sweater bought last month suddenly became a few sizes too big.

The sun created hues of orange and reds. The blue that slowly peeked out at the sides made it seem like a bowl of dirty paint water being stirred. The evening stillness in her flat was interrupted by the sudden roar of an engine. As she looked out the window, a car zoomed down the road with a blaring radio. An animated lightning bolt was left behind, its speed meant it was gone within a blink. An unsettling feeling made itself a home in the pit of her stomach. She pictured it as swirls, starting off as small slow circles, and eventually growing into sharp hurried edges.

It was probably nothing, maybe university kids having a laugh, but she didn’t have the time to mull over it because the swinging of her front door and jingling of a bundle of keys sounded loudly.

Meena opened the door to her refrigerator and the only thing there was a flickering light bulb and an empty box of orange juice. A high pitched shrill followed.

“Gen!”

Genevieve was out of milk, eggs, and cereal.

She wouldn’t have given it another thought and might’ve ordered take out or popped in at the Smalls’ to split a pizza with Jonah, the neighbour’s kid who she tutored every once in a while. He was the only child of a single dad who worked too many hours at the construction site to make rent. He wasn’t home often and they had a silent understanding of popping in every couple days to keep an eye on him, much like Meena liked to keep tabs on Genevieve. Except, Genevieve wasn’t a scrawny teenage boy who needed to be looked after, something which Meena would refute without a shadow of doubt. At the current state of Genevieve’s flat, the jury would easily side with Meena Ahmed.

Meena had a hand on her hip, her lips pressed in a firm line. She took a deep breath, pinching the carton between her thumb and index finger. “Gen-e-vieve!”

Meena put her foot down and opened the trash can only to find it overflowing. She held back a gag.

“Genevieve!”

After some rustling and movement on the other side of the wall, her feet stumbled out of her bedroom. An unimpressed snarl on her face, Genevieve’s body leaned against the doorway.

“I think by now everyone in this bloody building knows my name,” she said with a textbook in one hand and a pen in the other. She had not looked away from the pages. She hurriedly scratched an answer to her practice problems before it could float away from her brain. “That’s exactly the information they need to kick me out.”

Meena was in her work out clothes, a bright pink neon top with matching trainers. She looked straight out of a healthy living ad. She had glossy black hair, almond shaped eyes, and always smelled of fresh daisies. She had that all American smile and pearly whites that were blinding. She was into juicing, kale, and art history.

“What is this?”

“What’s what?” Genevieve inquired, her eyes glued on the next problem.

When a moment of silence went by and no response was given, her head shot up.

Her eyes flickered from the trash can—she thought she saw something move in there— to the open door of her empty refrigerator. Her lips fell into an O shape.

“When you told me you went to the shops on Tuesday, I didn’t know you were talking about two bloody weeks ago,” Meena huffed as she bent down to tie a knot on the black bag, her nose scrunched up. It was atypical to hear her accent try out British sayings, but amusing nonetheless. “Have you been eating?”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I do have instant noodles on the shelf. And I mainly eat at the diner.” Genevieve shrugged, her attention migrated back to her pages. What at first glance looked like to be ten simple problems turned out to be a mess of numbers and formulas that weren’t making any sense.

“That God awful place serves nothing but heart disease! It takes a whole stack of napkins to soak up that grease!” Meena scoffed as she replaced the bin with a fresh bag. On multiple occasions, she had cornered a frightened Walter to discuss his technique and may have even manipulated him to add a vegan alternative to his infamous pancakes. Thanks to Meena, Flo’s now served gluten-free, vegetarian, and no sugar added options. Genevieve firmly believed Walter did it out of fear, but he won’t admit it. “And instant noodles are not a meal, we have talked about this.”

“‘Course they are! An efficient one too.”

“What happened to ‘We’re gonna change things this year, Meena! Real changes! You won’t recognize me by the time I’m done’?”

If there was one thing Meena Ahmed took seriously, it was New Year’s resolutions. She kept every one ever since she was old enough to make them. She hadn’t missed a gym day for the past three years. When she said she would take on meditation, she actually did. When her mind became set on studying abroad in London, on January first, she was boarding a plane.

So when the following December 31st hit and Genevieve was one too many drinks in with Meena, she found herself making empty promises of eating better and taking care of herself. Little did Meena know that to Genevieve, resolutions were much like a two-week free trial. As soon as that time frame was up, you could up and go.

“I put in a solid effort for a week, and that’s what counts!”

“We need to go to the shops. You have nothing here. You need a list.” The pen between Genevieve’s fingers was swiped and the tearing of paper was quick from her notebook. She was also very much into being intrusive. “Let’s start off with the basics. Eggs, milk, bread. Do you want tea?”

“I can do my own groceries! I’m not a child, Meena!”

“Could’ve fooled me. By the looks of it, you’ve been living off frosted flakes. Do you even know where the closest store is?”

Genevieve scoffed and propped herself on the counter with the back of her elbows. “Of course I do, I am very much capable of taking care of myself.”

Meena paused. Her body turned towards Genevieve with her full, utmost attention. Her eyes scanned her from head to toe, Genevieve was being appraised.

She didn’t put effort to hide the worried crinkle forming between her brows. “Have you showered today? Changed your clothes?”

Genevieve wasn’t a slob, but she did let herself go at times. It was something that Meena, who religiously went to get fresh manicures every two weeks, couldn’t quite grasp.

“Oh, sod off! I was just about to run myself a bath before you came barreling in.”

She wasn’t, but Meena didn’t need to know that.

“Hm, what type of tea?” Meena asked after rolling her eyes dismissively.

“Green, please.”

“Let’s get some pasta, green beans, kidney beans, and some lentils.”

Genevieve’s nose scrunched. “I don’t even know what to do with lentils.”

“I have a great recipe for a dal curry. I’ll teach you, it’ll be perfect. We can make a whole day out of it.”

A whole day? For lentils? Genevieve opened and closed her mouth shut, no words came out. She sighed, getting Meena to budge was a faraway dream. She rubbed her strained eyes as Meena listed off something about the lack of vitamins in her diet. She was now on a tangent explaining how an increase in omega-3 and healthy fats in her diet could be beneficial when Genevieve's front door knob jiggled. There was a grunt and a strategic kick to the door, and it flew open.

“Gen!” he panted, his tongue slipped out unintentionally like a dog. His cheeks were flushed a cherry red, probably from the trek up the stairs. Jonah’s backpack was twice the size of him. He wore a shirt with his favourite comic book character, its armpits a shade darker than the rest of his shirt.

He had a ghost white face and his left eye twitched. “Hey, bud, you alright?” Genevieve raised a brow.

Little lungs took in a heavy breath, quite like pulling the handles of a bicycle air pump up.

“I don’t get the trigonometric equations! I have a test tomorrow! Mrs. Hansuld was going over the review in class and it looked like she was speaking Russian— and I know I should’ve been studying last week but they just released the new version of Triton Galaxy X and it was just so beyond cool, Gen. I am already on level twelve, and, well, now I have a test and I don’t know any of it. Nothing. Zero. I don’t think I can even add numbers anymore.”

Genevieve looked at Meena. Her mouth was parted from shock as she blinked at the frazzled boy in front of them. “You’re so tiny… but you, you speak so much and so fast.”

“Um, actually, you’re mistaken.” He raised an accusing finger. His height was a sensitive topic. He was at the stage where all his friends were getting growth spurts and growing like weeds, whereas he had yet to experience his own. “I am almost five foot and that is within the normal height range on WebMD, Docs4You and according to my pediatrician.”

Genevieve found it amusing that his voice reached a higher pitch the more defensive he got. He was a whistle by the end of his sentence. It also didn’t help that his last name was Smalls and kids in school could be cruel.

“‘Course, yeah, I’m sorry. My bad.” Meena nodded quickly. She knew she hit a nerve as she backed up slowly. She scratched the back of her neck. “Um, well, Gen and I were planning on picking up groceries, but I’ll go grab ‘em.”

“Great, I’ll go take my books out.” Jonah dragged his bag like a potato sack into the living room.

“You really don’t have to, Meena.”

“Gen, it’s no big deal,” she brushed off. “Anyway, I don’t think your pal wants me around much. I need an escape and maybe a magazine too.”

When Meena gulped uncomfortably, Genevieve shook her head. She pushed herself off the counter.

“Here take my card.” Genevieve shoved the plastic rectangle into Meena’s hand. A comforting squeeze was given. “If you get him one of those milk chocolate bars, he will forgive you in ten minutes tops.”

“Right,” Meena laughed. “I’ll be back in no time.”

***

October 27, 2019

There was a buzzing.

The room was swallowed in darkness, the crescent moon that hung behind the window didn’t provide enough light to warrant a quick search. It was enough of a reason for Genevieve to shut her half opened lids.

Except that the buzzing began again.

Genevieve groaned into her pillow until the nuisance came to a full stop. Whoever was beckoning her attention could do without it until the sun came up. There was an ache in her neck from the poor posture that her body folded in. To top it off, she had an 8:00 a.m. class. There were not enough hours in the night so she was clinging on to any thread of peace. She tossed and turned until she got the sheets pooled around her in just the right way.

Just when Genevieve was about to slip into the blissful state of unconsciousness, the aggravating buzz started once more. The less than pleased frown on her lips could surely make fresh flowers wilt. Her limbs were heavy with sleep as she moved her duvet to find the pesky device. Genevieve lived in a shithole. Labelling her room a shoe box would be bordering glamorous. Although, it did make it easier to find things.

It took a couple of shuffles and twists to hear the thud of a screen colliding against the floorboard. The damn thing was still ringing. The brightness on the unknown caller screen made her face glow blue and the back of her eyes burn; she shut them while blindly hitting the green circle.

“Hm?” Her voice croaked.

“You know the time I got you out of a thing?”

Their words were slurred and the glowing digits on her windowsill read 5:26 a.m. This meant one thing only. “No, sorry. Wrong number.”

Genevieve brought the phone away from her face, and just as her finger hovered over the red circle, a needy yelp cried out.

“Gen! Don’t hang up!”

Her eyes rolled with an aggravated sigh, fingers reluctantly pressing the device to the side of her head. There was sleep crusted in the corners of her eyes and she had to blink a couple of times to adjust to the darkness.“What do you want, Niall?”

“You see, I’m in this predicament… and I might need someone sober and with a car.”

“Then call a bloody Uber. Who do you think I am?”

“Look, I thought that. But—”

There was rustling on the other side. After some bickering, another voice spoke through the line.

“Gen, come get this tosser or else he will pass out on my floor. I swear, I’ll lock up with him inside.”

“How bad is he?” Genevieve was already pushing aside textbooks on her floor in search of a pair of trousers. With one leg inside and the receiver pressed between her cheek and shoulder, she hopped on her bedroom floor.

“Not good. He is a right mess.”

“I’ll be there in ten. Just keep giving him water, please? Thanks for the ring, Ted.” She knew Niall well enough to know that this wasn’t his bright and shiny idea. If it were up to him, he would pass out on a park bench.

“Got your number scratched on the wall for a reason.” The click sounded on the other side, then the line dropped afterwards.

It was true. If you looked hard enough you could make out the chicken scratched scribbles right under the faux payphone mounted inside The Cabinet, where the beers were cheap and Niall Horan was reachable at the slightest inconvenience that struck his life. Last week, it was because he had failed his mid-term. This week, the problem was blonde and walking across campus and shared one too many of his courses.

“No, Gen, she’s just too gorgeous, it’s unbelievable. I think I am in love.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to happen, but congrats.”

Ted adored Niall immensely when he was bringing more business to the pub and getting the word out, not when he was a blubbering mess on the sticky countertops. He sipped his drinks like water to the point that Ted would morph into a psychiatrist. This happened so often that it had become a ritual. The day Niall stopped burdening him with his problems was a day that failed to exist.

Much like her room, the small flat didn’t have the lights on. Genevieve didn’t need them to navigate her path, her fingers haphazardly pulled on her boots and plucked the bundle of keys from a mug.

Her car, a well-loved hand-me-down, was nothing lavish. It got her from point A to B without much resistance on good days. Her foot eased on the gas, with the route was well versed and memorized. After a couple of stop signs, her destination would be reached. The streets were empty and not one car was spotted at any intersections.

A light breeze roamed around and brought goosebumps to the surface of her skin. She should’ve brought a sweater, she thought, as her teeth began to chatter. Her dark hair was haphazardly twisted into a bun and rested on the top of her head. The car door shut behind her as she quickly jogged across the street to where the pub was located.

The street was lonely.

There were only a handful of people that would be up at this hour. This subgroup of people definitely did not include her. She thought she was still partly asleep when there was a familiar figure pacing down the sidewalk towards her. Maybe it was the dark, but even after she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palms, the slope of the person remained familiar. As they got closer, the once blurred image sharpened, and she felt her stomach flip.

A slight panic arose in Genevieve’s eyes. He was too close of a distance for her to dash through the doors, and it would’ve been clear that she was making a run from him. She doesn’t recall when exactly their encounters began to turn dreadful. But the reality of the situation wasn’t how, it was the fact that they had. This was the second time he stood across from her. The rate of their reunions was at an all time high after years spent apart. It made a heavy weight rest on her chest, her own personal Sisyphus boulder.

Tiptoeing and maneuvering their way around each other was the hardest part. There wasn’t a book in the world that taught you how to stand across someone that you once spoke to every day. There was a time Genevieve could tell what each tilt, rise, and fall of Harry’s face meant. How do you go from sharing friends, laughter, a life, to becoming nothing short of hollow strangers? As they stood across from each other on an empty street, they only shared blank stares.

“Hi.” His breathing was a bit uneven, and Genevieve saw the beginnings of roses bloom on his cheek under the streetlights. His moose coloured hair was tucked under a beanie and there was a slight stubble on his chin.

“You are running?” Genevieve squinted at him. Navy gym shorts hung off his hips and a full sleeve athletic shirt was on top. “At five in the morning?”

Genevieve hated how Harry looked brand new. In the midst of a mountain worth of chaos and hurt, how he managed to look shiny, pre-packaged, and unopened was well beyond her. She had to hold herself together with her bare arms when her seems unravelled. Harry was happier before Genevieve and it was something she had to be okay with. There was no specific reason why. It was just how reality worked.

“By the time I’m done, it will be six. I’ll have to get up anyway.” His shoulders rose and fell in a mindless shrug. Genevieve brought her arms to fold across her chest, her fists cuddled under her armpits to trap heat.

“You’re insane.” Genevieve shook her head. The neon trainers he had on rivalled the brightness of the open sign hung on the doors of The Cabinet. When Genevieve thought she had made enough of an effort at a civil conversation, she turned around to push the heavy glass door. There was nothing else to say to him.

Conversation with Harry wasn’t always a chore. She was able to speak without having to think twice or second guess herself. Now, it seemed like every word led to a dead end of an inescapable maze.

Genevieve accepted that Harry was no longer the person she came to with her favourite songs, books and a cup of tea. She wondered if whatever reminiscent memoir she had in her memory of him served true till today. Her Harry was never the sober driver or the early bird runner. She did not expect him to stay the same. No, that would be cruel. But a small part of her wanted to know if she had known him at all.

Before her weight gave to the door, his voice chimed up.

“You’re drinking?”

“God no, I’m, um—No. I’m here for a friend.” Genevieve paused, a deep breath circled her lungs and helped her string some words together. “He’s gone a bit over the top.” She chuckled. It wasn’t soft and light, but rather felt like sandpaper.

“Oh, right. ‘Course.” Harry rubbed at the back of his neck with his fingers. He blinked to the ground, the cracked concrete suddenly became much more of an interest. “I wasn’t— it’s just, I run this route every morning and I never see you and maybe I thought—”

“It’s okay, Harry.” He began to run his fingers through his hair, the beanie scrunched in his left hand. “I really need to help my friend, yeah?”

“Right, I’ll see you around?”

Genevieve left his question hung in the air like forgotten laundry on a washing line. She thought it was better than saying I hope not. She didn’t want to mention that she tried to avoid him to the best of her ability. Genevieve knew his habits, his patterns. She had knowledge about places he went to, so, naturally, she didn’t. It was a triumph for her to go without months of seeing him. But there was only so much she could do. Juggling probabilities of his whereabouts would never assign her a one hundred percent assurance of erasing him, even with a ninety-nine percent confidence interval.

“Genny?” he called out again. The rational part of her wanted to pretend she didn’t hear him and walk through the door. Instead, she took a breath through her nose and turned around slowly. She wrapped her arms tighter together as the temperature dropped by the second. “Um, do you think we could talk sometime?”

There was a frailness to his voice. He was nervous. Genevieve knew this because he had made a mess of his hair with the number of times his fingers combed it back.

The next words off her tongue painted a sad smile on his raspberry chapped lips. He looked exhausted, the grey shadows under his eyes beckoned her to not beat around the bush.

“We are talking, Harry.”

Confrontation was a foreign concept to Genevieve. Brushing it under the rug and forgetting about it seemed the best way for her. If it is out of sight, it will be out of mind. But Harry had other plans. He wanted to strip the house down and uncover every corner Genevieve thought to be her hiding spot. It was an intrusion and she didn’t want him to come knocking down doors.

“No, I mean—”

“It was nice seeing you,” she said, her mouth set into a thin, straight line as she held eye contact. They were still the same deep green with golden flecks. She had seen them angry, hopeful, teary, but right now they were desperate.

The slight tilt to her head told Harry not to push it. To leave things as they were. He served as a walking reminder of loss and all the things she wanted to forget. Their situation did not have to go back to a normal distribution; their data was skewed, and the standard deviation was large enough to wedge a significant distance from their past to present.

Change was good, even if it was different. Over time, the further apart she was from him the better it was for her. And she hoped it was the same for him.

No one warned Genevieve that holding a grudge required discipline and so much energy. She felt drained, her bones became weak enough they could snap in half. There was no brochure that outlined the ins and out of the process. Your brain worked overtime to disguise clenched jaws and tight fists without any compensation.

On the surface, everything appeared smooth and stonelike. Beneath, lied the hot white anger. That type of anger was something no one wanted to intentionally claim; it was an orphan. It builds and builds and builds until you cannot see through it. You’re blinded, you’re revengeful.

“Yeah.” Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. He teetered on the balls of his feet and toes with his bottom lip caged between his teeth. He was debating on what to say next, and Genevieve wished it would be something short and quick. She wanted him to say a casual goodbye that was heard between strangers in a coffee shop or book store. Something that didn’t make her want to burst into a river of tears. “One more thing.”

“Hm?”

“Nice shirt.” There was a quirk to one side of his mouth where a dimple had coined itself on his cheek. It was an innocent compliment. Something a friend might say to another. Before she could give a reply, he had turned around and broken into a light jog.

Genevieve watched his figure become muddy until the darkness hid him completely. It was an odd thing to say, her appearance was something she could give less of a shit about at five in the morning. She had literally gotten out in the clothes she slept in.

Genevieve brushed his words off. She wanted a dry goodbye and he delivered. It was nothing more.

Without thinking twice, she pushed the doors open and warmth from inside greeted her. The pub remained looking the same since she had walked in with her two best mates three years before. It was a hole in the wall, fixed in between a thrifting and convenience store. It littered with mismatched chairs and alcohol stains, a pool table and dart boards lined the further corner, and a random sports channel glowed on the box TV. Niall’s blond hair was easily spotted; it laid on the century old cherry wood bar. The posture his back was slumped on the stool insured neck cramps.

The doors behind the bar came swinging open as the bells above chimed of her entrance. A rag rested on his shoulder and he wore a well loved band shirt from his touring days. For someone who was found frowning on most days, Ted beamed a smile at Genevieve.

“Good! You’re here!” His shoulders dropped in relief as she made her way closer to her friend. “He’s been miserable.”

“Gen? Is that you?” Niall grumbled from his position. “Oh, shut it, Ted. You’re giving me no option but to take my money elsewhere,” Niall slurred as he lifted his head off the wood. There were lines indented on his cheek from his possible snooze.

“Those are empty words.” Ted rolled his eyes easily and used his rag to clean up the surface that Niall previously occupied.

“You know what else is empty, Theodore? This glass!” It rattled against the countertop when Niall dramatically set it down.

Ted’s shoulders shook as he chuckled, crinkles lining the corners of his eyes. “I’m not pouring you another drop, mate.”

“Who said it was for me? Have you seen Gen? She looks proper in need of a few.”

With a deep sigh, Genevieve took the stool beside Niall. Her head slowly turned to scan the pub. A place that was the heart of loud laughter and cheers was dimmed down since they were the only ones. With her elbows propped up on the counter, she pressed her index fingers to her temples.

“You do look a bit poorly. Under the weather?”

“No, not at the moment,” she sighed.

“Well, you look like shit,” Niall blurted.

“Thanks, Niall, really.” Genevieve glared with a frown. “Remind me to never do a kind thing for you ever again. Sorry I wasn’t in full glam when you called at ass crack of dawn.”

“Did you see a ghost or something? You look sick.” Niall squinted his eyes and pinched her cheek between his thumb and index finger. It was rather quickly slapped away with a snarl. “Ouch!”

“Nothing a pint can’t cure.” A tall glass slid in front of Genevieve. Condensation dripped and pooled on the counter. The frothy foam rested on top and sat at the rim without tipping over. “On the house.”

A Stella didn’t sound like a bad idea to Genevieve. She felt like she deserved one. After all, two encounters with the person she disliked the most was beginning to become exhausting. The car keys weighed down in her pocket, her bones ached and her temples pulsed. A tired yawn stretched her face as the drink laid rested on the cherry wood.

Niall scoffed as Genevieve stared at the drink for a moment too long. “If you don’t take it, I will!”

His fingers crept to grasp the glass, and Genevieve batted his greedy hands away. “Paws off, Niall.”

A cold drink couldn’t hurt, she decided. The first sip eased the tense muscles in her shoulders. Niall found a basket of chips to pick at in the meantime. He probably ordered them to soak up his alcohol intake.

Genevieve could hear Ted in the kitchen. The shifting of pots and pans meant that he was officially closing up for the night. She thought the least she could do was flip the remaining barstools on the counter.

In the two seconds that she had abandoned her glass, she had turned to see Niall gulping like fish.

“No more!” He made a strangled sound as the rim was pulled from his lips. “Don’t need your puke in my car.”

Genevieve threw back what was left of the drink. “You could just pull the window down and I’ll mind me business.”

Genevieve squinted her eyes to catch a better look at Niall and she noticed he was turning a few shades greener. He had on a dopey grin and his eyes were almost shut. Niall became whiny when he got sick, and if Genevieve were to let that happen in the pub there would be no chance of him leaving.

“How about we get you to an actual sink, yeah?”

With an arm thrown over her shoulder and Niall almost near collapsing on her, she yelled a farewell to Ted. He was more preoccupied with rubbing the stove clean but he got the message, yelling muffled goodbye of his own.

The car parked across the street never felt further away. Niall was in his own world, mumbling some drunk words into her hair. Genevieve caught some that thanked her for taking care of him. She took each step slowly.

Getting Niall into the passenger seat was a process, one she thought she had got down pat. She had done everything as planned, put his head to the right, made sure he had enough room to stretch his legs and of course, double checked to see if he had his phone and wallet on him. Apparently, this was taking too long and Niall reached over to slam the door shut.

Genevieve had jumped back just in time that no fingers were caught between doors. She sighed in relief before shooting a glare at Niall. He looked at the fabric that stretched from her stomach. “Oops?”

Genevieve rolled her eyes at Niall, who burst into giggles because it turned out everything was more hilarious at 5:00 a.m. She tugged at the material.

It was old and ratty. It was two sizes too big and hung off her frame, there were stains, holes, some she never remembered putting in herself. It took her a moment, with the fabric bunched between her digits, the gears in her brain set into place. The sharp intake of breath hit the back of her throat and the air on the street suddenly froze.

***

October 27, 2019

“It’s stupid, Gen.” The clicking of a game controller didn’t halt. The animated character on the screen ran towards a glowing torch. Jonah adjusted the headpiece he had on over his ears, probably muting himself so the other kids wouldn’t hear Genevieve lecture him. Beside him sat a bowl of finished popcorn on the sofa, like his player two, and unpopped kernels rattled every time he enthusiastically surged towards the TV screen.

“This is due in two days, Jonah,” Genevieve emphasized. She had unzipped his backpack. His agenda was hard to read, his chicken scratch writing almost made Genevieve mistake a significant date for scribbles. It was for his English class, something that he had yet to mention, which Genevieve found odd because he always told her about his school work. Okay, it was more like Genevieve made sure he told her, but same thing regardless. “How are you planning on starting and editing and finishing it?”

She knew better than to talk to boys in the middle of a game. There was no use. Her experience regarding it only went one way, everything went in one ear and out the other. It was fascinating, really; their eyes would glaze over and for a short ten minutes the real world wouldn’t exist. They would become so immersed in whatever universe was in front of them. It had been once explained to Genevieve as almost the same thing as reading a good book, but with the exception that the player was put in charge of the main character’s decisions.

His tongue poked out at the side and the Playstation keys were innocent victims to his quick jabs. His shoulders deflated when the message on the screen informed him of the scoreboard. He grumbled something under his breath before his miniature joystick highlighted the option to opt for another round. “I’ll edit it while I’m writing it.” He shrugged mindlessly.

“I’m being serious.”

“I am too.”

“What’s up with you? You usually love finishing your assignments for Mrs. Yu’s class.”

“Look how stupid the prompt is,” Jonah grumbled. Genevieve’s fingers were already pulling out a crumpled rubric and pressing it flat so it stayed without folding in on itself. Eyes scanned the short blurb of instructions which Jonah soon summarized. “Pick a month and personify it. What type of pretentious—”

“I think it’s very neat. Creative. Have you selected a month yet?”

“Sure.” His flat tone said otherwise.

Genevieve rolled her eyes at his antics. “If you don’t spend enough time on this, she will give you an easy fifty. That will bring down your average and universities look at that. What will you do then?”

She reached over to the table to take a sip from her water bottle.

The Smalls residence was the same layout when compared to her flat, so it didn’t take long to get familiar to it. Granted, it was more furnished and had Jonah’s gaming consoles already hooked up to use. The latter being the deciding factor of Jonah’s executive decision to procrastinate his work for another week. Usually, Jonah would pop in after school to Genevieve’s, but she had just returned from a shift at the diner and his door was cracked ajar.

Like many days, his father left for the construction site and wouldn’t be back until after dinner, and the only appliance Jonah knew how to use was a microwave. Genevieve had some food which Walter packed for her and it was more than enough to share with a growing boy. His diet was worse than hers. He could go weeks on Pop Tarts and Twizzlers from his cafeteria vending machine. Plus, he wasn’t bad company to have around.

“Easy. Play the dead mum card. Works like a charm.”

Genevieve spluttered the water out, coughing since it had gone down the wrong tube.

“Jonah!”

Her jaw went slack and her eyes widened, a slight worry arose. She wasn’t well versed on the ins and outs of parenting—she preferred to see him as a younger sibling— or child trauma, but even she had a hunch that there was something troubling and incredibly off about the way he had referred to the passing of his mother so nonchalantly.

“What?” Jonah asked, dumbfounded.

“You can’t just say stuff like that!”

“‘Course I can. You have no idea the amount of pity and sympathy they throw at your feet. At first, I despised it, because obviously I wasn’t a knocked over puppy like they were making me out to be.” His character on the screen jumped to deflect an obstacle. A triumph smile was the direct result. “But then, I was like what the hell, you know? Like if it’s there already, why not play my cards right and score some sort of advantage from it?”

Genevieve blinked. She tilted her head to attempt understanding his analogy.

“Well, that sure is one way to look at it,” she said after a short pause. “But I am not gonna let you do that to Mrs. Yu. Something tells me you’ve already done it one too many times.”

He paused his game and finally turned to her, giving her more than his side profile at last. A hellish grin split his face. “How else do you think I got a month extension on that book report and a perfect score on our last quiz?”

“I don’t know… I had assumed hard work and honesty?”

“Wake up, Gen! This is the real world and the rules are different in this game!”

“Alright, bud, you’re cut off from this game.” Genevieve pushed the power button on the TV remote that laid limply to her right. The screen became black with a click. Jonah’s back hit the backrest of the sofa, the bouncy cushion slightly propelled him further before absorbing his weight. “Let’s at least get started on a rough copy, how does that sound?”

He groaned with his head tilted back and eyes shut. “Excruciating, torturous, maybe illegal.”

“I’m asking you to get a start on your project, not abducting you.” His pace to grab the rest of his belongings from the table two meters away from him could rival a snail. “Now, do you have a month in mind?”

“I was thinking maybe like February, December, or even October.” He opened an empty page in his notebook and clicked the top of his mechanical pencil to give away some lead. “Because, like, it will be easy to build a character off them because they all have some sort of festive holiday thing to them.”

“That’s a great start. But don’t you think it’s a bit expected? It is a creative piece, so let’s maybe brainstorm something out of the box. Try picking a month that doesn’t have a holiday attached to it.”

He sighed deeply through his nose. The thought of putting in a smidge bit of effort was like pulling teeth.

Jonah had started to doodle in the margins. He drew three tallies, evenly spread, and added another row of them. He then connected them in a way which Genevieve recognizes to be the symbol on a superhero’s chest.

“August?”

Genevieve swallowed a bug.

“Why did you pick that? What significance does it have to you?” Genevieve doesn’t miss a beat, it aided to mask her surprise.

“Well, I don’t know!” He throws his hands up exasperatedly. “You said pick one, so I did.” He pointed out, his tone reminded Genevieve of how a middle schooler says “duh”.

“Come on. Think a bit.”

“It’s like... sort of like the last month of summer and it brings in fall. Which is the season where we witness life slip away, but barely because it happens so slowly.”

Genevieve’s heart swells for two reasons. Jonah was a bright kid, well beyond his age. It was something he hid and purposefully tried his utmost best not to let shine through. Genevieve had guessed the reason behind his reluctance was mainly because Jonah was at that age where he just wanted to fit in and not stand out like a sore thumb. But every once in a blue moon, he would slip up. When he allowed himself to think out loud, his ideas lined in a way where it wasn’t just the tip of the iceberg anymore. The depth gave away his brilliance.

The first time Genevieve was left speechless by him was when he analyzed one of his favourite comic book characters with an intensity that put the burning sun to shame. Then again when he asked her to edit his essay on a world issue. And once more when he asked her how to approach a girl in his science class that he clearly fancied. Genevieve tried to define this tendency of his as a recurring variable in Jonah’s equation.

In many more ways than one, August held an importance like no other to Genevieve. It was a month that was easily overlooked because it was caught in a war for attention between the summer months and upcoming winter holidays. Its propinquity to strong competition was something that made it easy to forget. If it was a person, she was sure it would be a quiet boy around her age. Probably with a penchant for befriending girls and breaking hearts so slowly that you don’t even know it’s happening.

Genevieve hummed in agreement with Jonah.

“Go on.”

“Let’s say if I were to go with this month, I wouldn’t focus on death because that would be something colder, like December or January or like the first snowfall.” His pencil sounded against his notebook. A string of notes were effortlessly coming together as Jonah continued. He suddenly stopped writing and his face scrunched in thought as he stared at the blank TV screen with as much focus that could convince you it was on. “I think August is knowing you’re losing someone or something without the assurance of finding them again... and letting it deliberately happen.”

“Isn’t that almost death?” Genevieve raised a brow.

“Almost, but not quite.” He tapped his pencil to the metal like coils that ran down the side. “August is loss, parting away. You know, something along the lines of donating old clothes, a friend becoming a stranger, even placing car keys somewhere different.”

Genevieve knew exactly what he was talking about. She couldn’t really describe the feeling of losing a friend in words with sharp precision. It was the same as repeating a word again and again until it came to the point you deluded yourself into thinking it belongs to another language completely.

Jonah peered up, awaiting a response or another prompt to further his development. Instead, Genevieve smiled sadly and shakes her head.

“What?!”

“Nothing.” She laughed softly, a bit winded.

There was just something about him that was light years ahead. Something so pure and good and applaudable that made you think about the character that so many adults lacked and how it was sitting in front of you in a corked up bottle of a preteen boy. He had lost his mother, his father wasn’t around, he didn’t have many friends at school, and he picked the month of August. He had hit the nail on what it was so eloquently that Genevieve could burst into tears. But she refrained, instead opted to narrow her eyes jokingly his way.

“You’re just too smart for your own good, is all.”

That night she went to sleep thinking about August.

How he probably wore wrinkled shirts so effortlessly, with his hair in a gentle disarray. People would make a note to comment on his ridiculously long eyelashes, but she favoured his eyes. They were round and shiny and reminded her of a cloudy marble, the colour of slate. He was charming but had an air of coyness about him that was inviting and deliberate. With skin the colour of oat and a smile like rain, it came or it didn't, he was a knockout. She hypothesized the variable that contributed to his allure had less to do with his looks and more with how he made you feel.

He made you feel wanted, he made you feel like you were someone.

***

October 31, 2016

It didn’t take long for Genevieve to spot him, his back was slouched against the red brick wall of a tall building. A pair of old wayfarers sat on the bridge of his nose and his arms pretzeled over his chest easily. His jaw went slack then tight, this pattern repeated like clockwork until Genevieve got close enough to notice he was working a piece of gum lazily. With his head tilted to the sky and one leg crossed over the other, he was imitating textbook boredom.

“Do you have it?” Dried leaves crunched beneath the sole of his boots as he unravelled his legs and stood up straighter than before as Genevieve’s figure approached near. She could tell he was raising his brows, but they didn’t make an appearance, still hidden behind his frames.

“Yeah.” Genevieve dipped her index finger and thumb to the front right side pocket of her jeans. It took some wiggling to pluck out a piece of metal, smooth on one side and teeth jagged on the other. The metal was warm when dropped into his open palm. “Why the sudden need for it? Have you finally taken up my advice on actually locking your doors yet?”

It was natural for him to give Genevieve a spare key, a strategy that had served him well on multiple occasions. He had lost his more than once within the span of the first two months of getting his flat. This habit had come to a point that recovery was not an option; he preferred to keep his door unlocked anyway. Genevieve pointed out it was a safety hazard, but he liked to call it being efficient. In between locking himself out or forgetting his own key, Genevieve was a dependable solution.

“Not quite, don’t get too ahead of yourself.” She had seen his long black eyelashes hit the inside of his sunglasses, a clear indicator of him rolling his eyes. “I need it for a friend. He doesn’t have a place to stay for a while, and I offered the couch. Are you done with your lectures for the day?”

“I’m afraid not. Got one more and I’m free,” Genevieve sighed defeatedly. She shifted her bag from her right shoulder to the left. Today, she only had her laptop and one textbook, but the strap of her bag still created red dents on her shoulders from the weight. “Did you end up going to your tutorial?”

He gave her a look that was enough of an answer. His glasses rose on his face as a result of him scrunching his nose up in disgust. The tips of his mouth pulled downwards as sourness glazed his features.

“If it’s before noon, I’m not going; you know this, Genny.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his finger. “Can I tempt you to skip by offering the first round at The Cabinet?”

“It’s like…” Genevieve glanced at her wrist watch. “One.”

“I’m not hearing a no.” He grinned, a smile pressed deeply into his face. “Come on, Gen! You’ll get to meet my pal too. I think you’ll get along really well. And Ted is offering half off today. It’s a win-win. What could be more important than good company?”

“Dynamic Systems Differential Equations, unfortunately.” The course name was a mouthful and her dull tone was enough insight into what it was like.

“That sounds like a migraine.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.” She laughed sans humour already picturing the formulas needed for her practice problems. “Speaking of migraines, what are we doing as costumes for Hannah Morton’s party?”

He squinted his eyes and paused for a moment. Migraine Morton was a nickname that stuck onto the bottom of your sneaker like chewing gum. “Is that tonight?”

“Well it is the thirty-first of October.” Her arms stretched to gesture towards the building she had exited from. “Do the carved pumpkins and the stick on ghost figures not make that obvious enough?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” He winced in reply to her previous question. A fingernail scratched at the corner of his forehead. “I was thinking of piggybacking off whatever you’re dressed as.”

Genevieve’s brows creased and her head tilted. “What do you mean?”

“If you’re Frankenstein, I’ll be the doctor.” He pointed to Genevieve and then to himself. “Bonnie, Clyde. Sherlock, Watson.”

“You want to go coordinating? Isn’t that a bit…”

“What?” He prompted with a laugh spluttering from his lips. It was fresh and bright, and Genevieve didn’t know exactly when it would stop sounding like this. He had amusement glittering in his gaze, there was a youthfulness about him that was so prominent and bold. He leaned closer. “Are you too cool to go coordinating now? Don’t tell me you can’t sit beside me at the lunch table too.”

It was ironic because they both knew Genevieve had always chose him to split her fruit roll-up candy since pre-school. In return, he would never pick up the red smarties whenever they shared a pack because those were her favourite, despite the number of times you told her the colour doesn’t affect the taste.

“I don’t know, a bit coupley? I mean, it worked well when we were eight. Would you think Hannah would mind?”

To this, he scoffed.

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. Why would she?”

“She’s clearly into you, like a lot, and I don’t want to get in the middle of that. And I hear she’s going around saying that she’s your girlfriend.”

He closed his eyes gently and breathes out a sigh. “She’s not my—”

“I know that! You know that! But does she?”

His phone buzzed and the question hung in the air until his fingers stopped their dance on the screen. He looked over her shoulder as if waiting for someone.

“Doesn’t matter, she will soon enough.” He shrugged, his voice was distracted and far away. And that was one thing about him that Genevieve couldn’t shake off no matter how hard she tried. He broke hearts knowingly, and did it anyway. “What time do you want me to come pick you up?”

“I’m done with class at five. I’ll have to stop by Party City at six, then do my modules so that will take me till nine, then I—” Rolling tires sounded loudly against the pavement as they approached behind her. The closer they got, the less time she had to finish her train of thought. The radio was a few notches down from its max setting.

“Be ready at nine. No later.” He gripped her shoulders with both hands, brought her close and pressed a messy kiss against her hair. He smelled of cigarettes and toothpaste and beer.

“No, I won’t be, I have to do my laundry and—”

“Great. Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

And he was gone. He opened and shut the passenger side of the beat up Honda Civic in two seconds. The driver was familiar to Genevieve, it was another blonde, not Hannah, with thick eyeliner. She was a regular turn up at every monotonous party thrown each weekend. She had seen her get too close to him on more than one instance. He convinced Genevieve to poke in at a few, but the scene was like a broken record and her lack of interest dwindled in them too quickly.

It once even prompted her to bring her textbook to do practice problems to keep her from falling asleep as drunk students lit up a joint around her. Every once in a while he would trap grey smoke in his cheeks and blow it directly on her face to elicit a scowl, something he found beyond hilarious when his inhibitions weren’t intact.

The girl’s hair was knotted and she had a less than pleased demeanour, probably nursing a hangover of her own. She stomped her foot down on the gas. He didn’t even have his seatbelt done before their bodies lurched backwards and the car zoomed out from the parking lot of the mathematical sciences department building. The radio became only a faint sound away the longer Genevieve stood there.

By the time she got to Party City, the student working behind the counter gave her an apologetic look. All the decent costumes were sold out. He led her to the back of the store where the remaining costumes were kept. Being a university student meant she couldn’t break the bank for something so trivial. In the plastic bin lied a pair of fangs and a deflated witches hat that had a tear near the rim. There were masks, but she would be better off by taking a paintbrush to her face.

She sighed deeply, her lips pursing in thought. It was obvious her plans of coordinating were a dream far away. That was until she turned around.

A long hat cowered in the corner. It had thick red and white stripes, she pictured it with eyeliner drawn whiskers and a cat ear headband from last year. Maybe even a red bow around her neck. What really sealed the deal for her was the red shirt hung on a hanger right above it. It had a white circle right in the dead centre. The font within the circle was a recognizable outfit from a famous children’s book character. Bonnie and Clyde, Sherlock and Watson, and now Cat in the Hat and Thing 1.

The relief that came along with not trying to maneuver creating an outfit at home was enough to get Genevieve to run to the till. Arts and crafts were not her strongest suits.

The same guy’s eyebrows shot up, surprised at her quick decision making. He shut his latest issue of Men’s Healthy Living and leaned his weight off his elbow. He scanned the items and Genevieve handed him the crisp bill. Before he could finalize the sale, Genevieve thought back to the couch friend that would be accompanying them tonight. Did he have a costume? Inferring from the fact that he didn’t have a roof of his own, a lousy Halloween costume was the least of his worries. But Genevieve found her feet trailing back towards the shop and grabbing the shirt that said Thing 2. The guy added it to her final bill and packed her belongings in a black plastic bag.

He was late and Genevieve was thankful that her laundry was dry and folded neatly.

---

Okay, I think I’m done introducing the main characters. We have quite the cast list, don’t we?

Let me know what u think! I’d love to hear your favourite parts and predictions!

Thank you eriza @booksncoffee for the banner!

Thank you so much to my wonderful betas @adoremp3 @haaaaaaarrry @drivingmekiwi @at-least-im-1 Ayesha and Hamna! Without them, this would be a jumble of fucked up grammar bc I write at 3am. If you want to beta, shoot me a message!

Tag list: @infinitiae @sortaanonymous @sydneysuit @wonderonrepeat @confusedkiwifan @mylifeisatoilet @awomanindeniall @guccikingstyles @verorax @stylesfics-xx @stylishmuser @at-least-im-1 @mellamolayla @thursday-iminlove @kizsyou @brassharry @kizsyou @thursday-iminlove @blue-eyes-freckles-and-a-smile @Hollydays @la-peonia

#1dff #1dff au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x ofc #harry styles fanfiction #writing #ylsg2 #pls lmk what yall thought of this??

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stillgotme · 5 years

Photo

HELLO EVERYONE ok i’m finally doing this after like 84 years lmao

SO yeah several people in the past few months have asked me about my editing process and i said that i’d hopefully do it after gen 2 stuff and since i’m taking a break from gen 2 and wanna stall bc returning to gen 1 will be painful, ya girl got her ass to go through with it. keep in mind, this tutorial is for people who already know the basics of photoshop. if you don’t there’s many tutorials online that’ll help beginners. i’m gonna be editing a pic of val and chance all dressed up and ready to crash a prom to get lit with their homies maggie and eli

*rosanna pansino voice* LET’S GET STARTED

so i use reshade and i believe the version i have is 3.0.7 or something idk but it’s 3.0 and i switch between 3 presets that are my own. the one i use the most started with pickypikachu’s cinematic preset as a base.

now, i know not everyone has reshade, but there’s still a way you can mimic the DOF effect with photoshop. when my stubborn ass edited everything myself all i did was duplicate the photo, apply field blur and adjust the bokeh lighting, added a layer mask and with a brush using the color black, i “colored” in what i didn’t want to be blurry and BOOM ya got that DOF goodness

so for DOF i use either the marty mcfly shader or the matso shader and even both, like in this case. i also love that sweet mxao bc ooh yess them SHADOWS. but unfortunately bc i’ll never ever let go of alpha hair and you’ll have to rip them away from my cold dead hands, ya get this shit.

the dof and shadows cutting through the hair making it look ugly and blurry and just all around BLECH

so when taking screenshots, i take two photos. one with the dof and mxao and another without those shaders

now i open both pics in photoshop and layer the photo with the effects over the one without

ok this is totally optional and you don’t have to do it but i like to crop my photos and the preset for my cropping dimensions is 1150 x 705 bc that’s what i’m going to resize my photos to (w/ 300 resolution). again, totally optional, you don’t have to do this part but i do.

so now i add a layer mask to the top layer

next i select the brush tool and choose whatever brush i wanna use. i usually switch between these two brushes depending on what i need at the moment. and make sure the color you’re painting with is black.

and now just “paint” over the ugly parts to erase them. depending on your photo this can sometimes take a while, but hey ya get that dof and beautiful alpha hair. i also take this time to erase some of the blurriness that forms around my sims from the dof effect

right click on the layer and select “merge down” and i’m left with this. obviously, you see some parts that aren’t blurred anymore but i just fix it with the blur tool at 100% opacity, zoom in on the unblurred edges and blur them in with whatever brush i choose. i personally choose the one with hard edges and i make sure the brush size is very very small. this part’s also a lil time consuming so ya gotta be patient.

doesn’t that look better? now it’s time to get to the actual editing lmao. first, click layer > background layer to make it a background. this is necessary for me bc of the photoshop action i use.

so in order to give my pics that “crisp” look, i first reduce noise and these are my default settings

then i do topaz clean

then smart sharpen

then i use the liquify tool bc sometimes there’s jagged edges on the shoulders, elbows, chins, etc. that i wanna smooth out. i also use this to adjust facial expressions, like for this i wanna make the smiles curve up a lil bit more bc chalerie are in love and happy

now this is the part where i kinda nitpick bc i’m a perfectionist lmao like i clean up some lines on val’s arms and fix that weird spot on the collar of chance’s shirt, all that small stuff people wouldn’t notice but I DO so i fix it

alright now it’s time for me to draw hair! again, this is optional and i understand not everyone has a tablet or likes drawing hair so skip this if it ain’t your thang. first add a new layer for the hair.

i like to add extra hair to make it more full or fix clipping and “highlights” to kinda emphasize the lighting effects i’ll do later and i usually go with a lighter color of the hair for the highlights OR i do the color of the lighting. in this case i’m just going with a very light brown color. this brush is from this set by castrochew and i have the opacity at 100% and size at 3 px.

this is what it looks like after i draw all the hair. and for the highlights i always reduce the layer opacity to 50-60% or even less than that depending on how subtle i want them to be. after that, i merge them all down.

now it’s time to do all the shading and highlighting. make sure you do it all as separate layers, too. even tho i use mxao it still doesn’t do enough for me, so i always add shadows and i recommend you use dark brown for the shadows as black is a a bit too dark especially when you’re adding shadows around the faces. like y’all don’t want it to look like your sims put mud on their face. trust me guys i contour my face.

now take a hard edge brush and draw where you wanna add shadows

apply gaussian blur and erase any excess “shadows” then reduce the layer opacity to your liking. now keep doing that in other areas where you wanna add shadows. it all depends on the picture and i really just use my general knowledge of how lighting and shadows work. remember, make sure each shadow and highlight you add is a separate layer!

for highlights, use a light color, a soft edge brush, change the brush opacity to 60% and change the layer mode to “soft light”. like with the shadows, just paint whatever you wanna highlight, gaussian blur, reduce layer opacity, etc. then after you’re done shading and highlighting, merge all the layers down.

then to enhance the highlights even more i use the dodge tool with the exposure at 25% and paint over all the highlighted areas

so this is how it looks after i did all the time consuming stuff and now it’s time to play with COLOR YEAHHHHHH

this is the action i’ve been using forever and it’s a ride or die, always got my back, never fails me, always there when i need it. all i gotta do is click on that and press the “play” button and everything’s beautiful and colorful and all my problems seem to go away and suddenly the your lie in april soundtrack is playing the background

but most of the time i untick the “curves” layer from the action as it can be too bright for me and i just adjust the curves of the image to what i prefer.

now it’s my favorite part! time to add that good-ass LIGHTING and since i went crazy with the lights for the background, it’s gonna be fun to do this one hehehe. ok so first duplicate your image and then choose the color of the lighting you want. for this pic, i want the lighting to be a nice light warm yellow/orange color

now for the brush mode, choose “linear dodge (add)” and change the opacity to 35%-45% or hey even higher if ya wanna go bright as fuck. and get a soft edge brush and make it big. like fucking BIG. you see the size i put it at? yeah, make it big bc we want that beautiful shit EVERYWHERE

YEAH DAS DAT SHIT I LIKE. keep painting over areas ya wanna see glow and even paint over the same area twice to make it brighter. hell, don’t just stop at one color. add other colors of light if ya want. add some pinks or blue or purple, adjust the brush size, go crazy. BLIND EVERYONE.

buuuuuuut with all the sweet lighting, it tends to make your pretty pic look all washed out and also lighting doesn’t always work that way. and that’s why i told y’all to duplicate your image bc we’re gonna add a layer mask again and with a soft edge brush you gotta erase some of that lighting. change the brush mode back to normal, put the opacity at 100% and make sure your brush is black and get rid of what you need to. but what’s good about this is you don’t have to be perfect and it’s ok if there’s still some lights on your sims bc now it looks like the light is shining on them awwww. now merge that layer down

now color balance! i like to enhance the red, magenta, and blue most of the time but as always it all depends on the photo and what your preference is.

all that’s left to do now is change the image size. i change the resolution to 300 ppi (it doesn’t really do anything but like it’s become a habit of me to do it so i do it idk) and make sure if you’re making your image smaller, you apply “bicubic sharper” so your image stays sharp when you change the size

AND THIS IS THE FINAL PRODUCT.

so this is my editing process and i hope some of you learned some stuff from this. also please keep in mind that i also encourage y’all to do your own spin on things when you edit. i’m all for taking tips from others and learning cool new tricks but develop a style that fits YOU. eventually you’ll find it and i know that you’ll end up creating something amazing that shows how unique and lovely you are.

anyways, i’m so glad i finally got this done. love you guys 💖💖💖

#the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 #simblr #tutorial #aliya's editing tutorial #giving it that tag so i can make a link on my blog #i really hope i explained things well #like i don't do tutorials #but here ya go #now i gotta edit the other photos for this photoshoot byyyyeee

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mikegranich87 · 3 years

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Pixel 5a review: The 4a 5G wasn't broken, so Google didn't fix it

youtube

The Pixel 6 is just around the corner. But before Google brings it and its Tensor mobile chip to market, the company is updating its entry level offering with the $449 Pixel 5a. The whole point of the “a” family is to offer the basics at a reasonable price without sacrificing too much of the Pixel experience in the process. That means a relatively clean version of Android with a bunch of AI tricks and a heavy focus on photography.

But apparently Google feels like it more or less nailed that formula with the Pixel 4a 5G because the 5a is basically the same phone. (Note: The Pixel 5a is not a direct successor to the 4a, which was a much smaller device.) There are some differences — notably the addition of IP67 waterproofing — but most of the tweaks are extremely minor. Even the processor and RAM haven’t changed. So, if we said you could do better way back in October of 2020, what does that mean for the 5a in the fall of 2021?

Well, it makes the Pixel 5a about as unexciting as a phone can be, for one. But look, boring isn’t necessarily bad. Especially when you’re talking about the mid and lower tiers of the smartphone market. For one, keeping things staid allows Google to focus its efforts on battery life and performance optimization. And just like the last generation of Pixels, the 5a feels pretty responsive despite the aging Snapdragon 765G inside. That said, the 765G wasn’t exactly top of the line last year, and it’s starting to show its limits. While scrolling through the UI and doing simple things like reading email and sending text messages, the 5a is indistinguishable from any flagship device. It even handles most mobile games without a hiccup. I spent some time playing The Elder Scrolls: Blades and Wild Castle and the phone barely broke a sweat.

But, I did notice it stutter a few times while navigating YouTube, editing photos and jotting down my thoughts for this review in Evernote. The latter I could easily chalk up to Evernote’s questionable development over the last few years, but the pauses while switching to fullscreen in YouTube and swapping filters in Google Photos are a bit more concerning.

Terrence O'Brien / Engadget

The plus side of going with something a bit older and lower-powered (not to mention with an integrated 5G modem) is power efficiency. The 4a 5G was already something of a beast, lasting over 17 hours in our battery drain test before our reviews editor Cherlynn Low simply gave up and moved on with her life. That device had a 3,885mAh battery. The 5a has a 4,680mAh cell. It took 22 hours and 56 of playing a video on loop at 50-brightness before it finally powered down.

After 24 hour of heavy usage — playing games, repeatedly running 5G speed tests, installing apps, watching videos on YouTube and even letting it play sleep sounds overnight — the battery was still at 40 percent. It didn’t finally crap out until almost 2AM on day two. And if you turn on Extreme Battery Saver, things could get even more absurd. I’m fairly confident that under normal use you could get a full 48 hours out of the Pixel 5a before needing to find an outlet.

Battery life isn’t the only difference between the 5a and 4a 5G: The new phone is also IP67 rated for water and dust resistance. At a time when many smartphones have at least some form of water resistance the Pixel 4a 5G was sort of a disappointment. In fact, the lack of waterproofing was one of the big cons called out in our review. But the Pixel 5a should easily survive getting caught in the rain or if you drop it in a toilet. It can withstand being submerged in water up to one meter deep for 30 minutes, but I wouldn’t push this to its limits. Definitely don’t go swimming with it in your pocket.

Terrence O'Brien / Engadget

The last difference between the Pixel 5a and the 4a 5G is in the size and construction, but it’s subtle. The 5a has a metal unibody as opposed to a polycarbonate one. The texture is still matte and similar to the softtouch of the previous models, though, and the upgrade to Gorilla Glass 6 from Gorilla Glass 3 is notable, but you’ll never notice the difference in daily use. The 5a comes in one finish: Mostly Black. Some might find the look a little dull, and it’s certainly on the utilitarian side, but I quite liked the feel of the phone. The finish is a nice contrast to the seemingly endless sea of smooth glassy surfaces and the heft is just right, too.

The 5a is ever so slightly larger and heavier, but you’re talking about a few millimeters and grams. Even if you had a Pixel 4a 5G in one hand and a Pixel 5a in the other you’d be hard pressed to figure out which is which.

The change in size mostly comes down to the slightly larger screen. The OLED panel on the 5a is 6.34 inches, versus 6.2 inches on the 4a 5G. Otherwise, though, the screens are basically the same. The increased resolution of 2,400 x 1,080 makes up for the size difference so they both have a density of 413 ppi. Both also sport a contrast ratio of 100,000:1 and support HDR and are stuck at now outdated 60Hz. And both are just bright enough to use in direct sunlight, though high brightness mode is definitely a necessity if you’re watching a video outdoors.

Even the holepunch for the front-facing camera is in the same place. That said, I appreciated Google’s “for fun” wallpapers that camouflage the hole by incorporating it into the design. My favorite is the record player where the camera becomes the hole at the center of an LP.

That 8-megapixel front-facing camera, by the way, is one of the weak points of the 5a. It does the job in perfect lighting and for video calls. But details can be a bit soft, in low light it gets noisy and portrait mode is hit or miss. Overall, I found Google’s portrait feature to be a bit too aggressive even on the main camera. You can easily adjust the blur and depth after the fact, but the default settings could stand to be more subtle.

The selfie cam, though, is the same one found on the Pixel 4a 5G, so none of this is a surprise. In fact, all of the cameras are the same. The two sensors around the rear, however, are much better than the one on the front. There’s a 12.2-megapixel main shooter with optical image stabilization and a 16-megapixel ultra-wide-angle lens. They have a somewhat “moody” vibe when compared to shots from an iPhone or a Galaxy device, but they’re not obviously inferior. And even though images taken with the wide-angle lens can get a little fuzzy if you start zooming in on details, Google’s processing does an admirable job of minimizing barrel distortion. Google isn’t at the top of the smartphone camera heap anymore, but it’s not far off and photography is still an undeniable strong suit of the Pixel family.

Terrence O'Brien / Engadget

There’s nothing new to report, though. It’s the same set of excellent photography features that you got last year: Portrait lighting can help clean up and add some contrast to photos of people (but sadly not pets — the option only appears if a human face is detected). Night Sight turns on automatically in dim lighting and at times produces mind-blowing results. And the video stabilization modes are excellent. Cinematic Pan, which combines slow motion with super smooth movement, is especially fun.

Also, just like every other “a” model Pixel, this one has a headphone jack. All I can say is: That’s great, now please bring the headphone jack back to flagship phones. I know I’m not the only person clamoring for it. And it drives me nuts that the only way to get an old-school 3.5mm jack on my phone is to go down market.

Terrence O'Brien / Engadget

One last thing to mention: The actual full name of the phone is the Pixel 5a with 5G. So, guess what, it supports 5G connectivity. That’s not really surprising since the Snapdragon 765G has an integrated 5G modem. Unlike the Pixel 4a 5G, however, there is no mmWave variant of the 5a. And, although technically it’s capable of C-Band support, it’s currently not enabled and Google wouldn’t commit to adding support in the future. That’s not a huge deal at the moment since there are no active C-Band networks in the US yet. But it might irk some when AT&T and Verizon start flipping the switch, likely sometime later this year. That said, full C-Band rollout isn’t expected to happen until at least late 2023.

Those caveats out of the way, 5G still seems stuck in a state of arrested development. I tested the Pixel 5a using Google Fi, which essentially means I was on T-Mobile’s network and speeds were all over the place. In my home, it was often slower than Verizon’s LTE network, averaging around 35mbps down. (Note: Verizon is Engadget’s parent company… for now.) But two and half miles up the road at a local Subaru dealership I was routinely getting over 300mbps down, topping out at 370mbps.

Terrence O'Brien / Engadget

Of course, 5G and excellent cameras aren’t a rarity at this price any more. Mid-tier phones have come a long way over the last few years. The problem for Google is, it no longer clearly “owns the midrange.” Part of that is down to price. While the 5a is $50 cheaper than the 4a 5G, it’s not the obvious bargain that the 4a was at $350. If it was even just $50 cheaper still, the 5a would be a much easier sell at $399.

The Samsung A52 5G is slightly more expensive at $500 (though regularly on sale for less) and has a slower Snapdragon 750G SoC. But, its Super AMOLED screen clearly outclasses the Pixel’s and has a 120Hz refresh rate. Plus, its camera system is much sharper and feature-packed (but that doesn’t necessarily mean “better”). In addition to a primary camera and ultra-wide shooter, there’s a macro lens and a depth sensor that helps with portrait mode. While both the A52 and 5a ship with 128GB of storage, the Samsung has an advantage in that it has a microSD card slot.

Then there’s the OnePlus Nord N2 5G. It has a trio of cameras around the back, including a 50-megapixel primary sensor, an AMOLED screen with a 90Hz refresh rate, and up to 12GB of RAM. Then again, it has a MediaTek processor, which you rarely see in phones in the US and with good reason: They’re not exactly known for their high-end performance. But perhaps more importantly, you’re highly unlikely to be making a choice between the Nord N2 and the Pixel 5a since the former isn’t available in the US, and the later is only available in the US and Japan.

Of course, if you’re more of an iOS fan, the obvious comparison would seem to be the iPhone SE. It’s the same price as the Pixel 5a for a 128GB model, but it does feel quite a bit dated. It still uses the old iPhone 8 form factor with a Touch ID home button instead of Face ID, it's positively miniscule at 4.7 inches and doesn’t support 5G. Frankly, if you’re dead set on iOS, I might suggest saving your pennies and springing for the $699 iPhone 12 mini.

So, no, Google doesn’t “own the midrange” any more. The Pixel 5a is almost aggressively boring, but it’s not bad. If you want the Pixel experience and don’t want to break the bank, this is the way to go. But if you’re just looking for the best bang for your buck, the choice is far less clear.

from Mike Granich https://www.engadget.com/google-pixel-5-a-review-android-midrange-5g-smartphone-160051630.html?src=rss

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cuscuzdetapioca · 7 years

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Fandom: still the same

Summary: the plot thickens and new characters have been unlocked

@potatomcmuffin @digirose

She examined the photo in a big display, searching for clues she wouldn’t be able to see in it’s actual size.

She could tell now the duo was inside some sort of establishment. It seemed to be an early afternoon and the windows faced the street but there was enough light reflecting to make it hard to see much outside and the way the photo was taken, you barely could see a table and stuffed chairs in a very retro way. A restaurant, most likely.

She said coordinates out loud and asked the computer to zoom in as she watched closely each part of the photo.

Suddenly she asked the computer to stop and stepped closer to the image. There seemed to be a reflex of a shop sign in the window. She asked the computer to try to clean up the image and compare to the city’s database.

In some seconds, the computer came up with a similar looking image and upon some inspection, she learnt it was a clothes shop, in front of a 24 hours open cafeteria.

She now had an address to start looking.

------

The place was as vintage as it seemed in what she could see in the image. It seemed like they were aiming for some 1950 style, but it didn’t work so well with all the modern machines and led colourful lights.

She looked around, scanning the place and went straight to the cashier.

“Excuse me.” She said.

“How can I help you?” Asked the old fat woman, in a warm tone of someone who liked dealing with the public.

“Police.” she said, showing her credentials. “I’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Of course, officer!” She seemed a bit surprised but didn’t change much from her previous tone.

“How long do you work here?”

“Oh, since I was much younger. This place was my parent’s. I’m not currently the owner, my brother is, but I’m sure I know this place as much as him.

“Good.” V showed her a cut up version of the photo, with just the unknown guy on it. “This photo was taken here. Do you recognize this man?”

“Oh.” She took the photo and put on her reading glasses. “Oh! I do! He used to come here a lot but I haven’t seen much of him lately. He has a younger sister. Sadly, I don’t know much about him or their names. But they were always served by one of our waiters and he always talked a lot to them. I’m sure he’d know more, but he’s not here right now.”

“What’s his name? And when does he work?”

“Jorge and he will be here soon. An hour at most. You can stay and wait if you want to, you can have anything you want, on the house.”

“There’s no need. I will pay, but thank you.”

V ordered a coffee with creamer and sat on one of the tables, alone. She looked through the window, recognizing the exact place the photo had to be taken.

Who took the photo? This waiter or this sister? Would that matter in the case?

Some minutes later, a young waitress brought her the coffee. She mixed it slowly with a spoon and took small sips while she waited the unknown figure.

“What a nice looking girl like yourself is doing here all by herself?” A male voice asked and she looked up.

Brown skin, curly hair loosely tied in a ponytail, a charming smile. And not much sense of personal space, as he leaned on her table.

“No, you can’t join me.” Was her simple answer. Was she being mistaken by a prostitute replicant now? Wouldn’t be the first time. Many men were used to see female replicants as sexual toys.

He laughed.

“Ok, ok, I agree, I came off too strong. Not my best line. But what do we have to do to call the attention of a cute girl nowadays?”

She simply looked at him and took a sip. He had an accent. First language, probably Portuguese by her knowledge.

“Not a very talkative one, I see. Are you engaged or something? I promise I will go away if you already have someone.” He insisted on smiling as if all of that was normal.

Didn’t he realize what she was? Her attire? Now she was getting a bit annoyed.

“No, but I’m not interested.”

Now he seemed a bit rejected. Like a kicked puppy, as humans liked to say.

“Can I at least have your name? Just something to remember you by?”

She sighed. Maybe this would make him take the hint and go flirt on some human girl. “V.”

“Vie? Like, in French? Life? Wow, that’s a quite exotic name but also very beautiful.”

She put her cup down suddenly, which made a small sound against the plate. ‘Vie’? No, V, as in one letter. Indeed, in his accent it did sound like Vie, with the unnecessary and imaginary long vowels that were typical from where he most likely came from.

He had made it sound like she had a name.

She opened her mouth to inform him or how wrong he was but couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Why? Why she sort of liked this? Was it because it was a human calling her? It was the same as Mari’s Marianne, she shouldn’t just let him call her that.

“Jorge, good thing you’re already here!” The cashier woman approached, making V unable to say much more. She looked from Jorge to V. “Oh, are you two already talking? Good, she had been waiting for you!”

“Already? Waiting for me?” He asked, noticing something was up and facing his boss. “Why?”

“She’s a police officer, Jorge! Don’t tell me you were trying fancying a police officer!” She said in a quiet voice, as if V wouldn’t hear this way. She could tell by her tone and quick nervous look in her direction that she knew she was a replicant but didn’t want to sound biased.

“Ahhhhh. Well. What can I say? I like dangerous woman!” He shrugged. Apparently, he still hadn’t got the hint about her identity.

“You’re terrible.” She rolled her eyes. “Please, miss, pardon him. I hope he will show more respect now that he knows.”

“And when was I disrespectful, eh, Vie?” He shined her another smile and winked.

Oh, good. So that was Jorge. That would be a long talk.

----

The sat in front of each other. Her table had been cleaned and they moved to a table closer to the wall and away from the other customers.

“So, what did I do, miss officer?” He seemed to be having fun with all this.

“Nothing, as far as I know.” She didn’t know why but she sort of wanted to blame him for something. Just for unsettling her. “I just want to ask you some question.” She put the photo in the table and pulled to him. “Do you know this guy?”

“Hmmm...” He delayed looking at the photo lazily and pursing his lips. “Yeah, he was my costumer, he and his sister. I usually served them. But I haven’t heard from him. Did something happen?” He looked up to her, more serious.

“No, but he might be helpful for a investigation and we’d like to locate him.”

“What investigation?”

“Confidential.”

“Of course.” He laughed. “Well, I don’t really remember his name. As I said, it has been a while and I serve many people everyday. His sister name’s Mary, though. I never forget a pretty lady’s name.” He winked.

She almost groaned. What was up with this guy that made her want to show emotions? She wasn’t like Mari who was so carefree. She knew the police could monitor in case she had too extreme reactions.

“Any chance you know where they live?”

“No. They never said to me and I never asked. However, I think they’re not from this city, as they always mentioned they had to come to the hotel. They seemed to have a lot of money, but I never asked which hotel.”

“Right.”

His information were very vague. Seemed true but also seemed like he knew how hard it would be to locate someone just by knowing they were in an hotel and how common Mary was. He seemed relaxed but too relaxed, as if being questioned was something he was used to.

She stood up anyway.

“Thank you for your collaboration.”

“Of course, Vie. Visit me anytime if you need anything else. Maybe a massage? I bet your work is stressful.”

She simply ignored him and went to the cashier, pay for her coffee and thank her for her help. It wouldn’t be very smart to threaten him in a full place and she didn’t know much about this guy to even question his answers. She had a feeling he knew this as well.

“Could you tell me one last thing?” She asked the cashier.

“Of course.”

“What’s Jorge’s surname?”

“De Sá. Why? Are you going to file a reclamation for his flirting ways? I know he’s very improper, but he’s a good boy and a hard worker.”

“Don’t worry, I just thought I had seen him before. But I was just mistaken.”

“Oh, he has a lot of siblings, maybe it was one them! I don’t know how alike they are but...”

“It’s ok. Thank you, miss.”

She left. Jorge de Sá. Now she had some research to do.

#( blade runner au. )#( original. )#i rushed

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turkiyeecom · 5 years

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E3 2019 in photos: Gooigi, crazy arcade machines, and a DOOM museum

"Great work!" — Plus, the National Videogame Museum returns with some of its craziest rarities yet. Sam Machkovech and Kyle Orland - Jun 16, 2019 1:00 pm UTC LOS ANGELES—If you couldn't or didn't make it to E3 2019, you're not the only one. Anecdotal evidence suggests this was the most poorly attended E3 in some time (though its organizers at the ESA insist that this E3 had only 3,000 fewer attendees than 2018's jam-packed affair), owing perhaps to Sony's no-show or the abundance of live-streamed options for enjoying the event at your own home. Luigi and Gooigi attracted hordes of attendees excited to pose for photos. Sam Machkovech Inside the Luigi's Mansion 3 booth, fans could pose with a guy in a Luigi costume. Nintendo went all-out building a haunted house for these kiosks, but my photos of it turned out terribly. It was easier to get photos of the toy dioramas built around the Link's Awakening gameplay kiosks. Nintendo built four of them in all. A closer zoom on the plastic minis Nintendo built just for this occasion. Link delves into a dungeon. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" "Wrong series, dude." I'll admit, I kinda lost my mind seeing this adorable Link and Marin meet-cute diorama. Marin in Smash Bros. Ultimate? A guy can dream, right? The EA Play event at the Hollywood Palladium included this impressive cast of paid Apex Legends cosplayers. Yes, the person cosplaying as Octane is a bilateral amputee. You couldn't buy these impressive 10" Apex Legends statues at EA Play. But you could buy a ton of shirts and hoodies. As an Apex Legends fan, Ars's Sam Machkovech nearly bought the "bamboozled" one. For some reason, EA Play hosted an Anthem gameplay session... and for some reason, attendees actually waited for it. FIFA '20 hosted an arena-soccer match. The McLaren Senna features in the new LEGO Speed expansion pack for Forza Horizon 4, so naturally, Microsoft had someone make a life-sized McLaren Serra model out of LEGO bricks. They went to pretty insane trouble to include significant elements from the real deal. Real wheels, real LEGO blocks. This refreshed version of the Xbox Elite Controller (dubbed "version 2") will launch in November for $180 and features such perks as a rechargeable battery, a controller-charging case, increased hair-trigger responsiveness, and more. We couldn't test the new XEC with any games, but its newly texturized grip and significant heft felt good to hold on its own. C'mon, Xbox, you think we're gonna steal this thing? How dare you. Say hello to one of Gears 5's newest, most disgusting monsters. It's not a Gears of War character if it doesn't have chest-high cover nearby. The best thing about Gears 5's new "Escape" mode is that it supports three-player split-screen co-op. More of this kinda thing, please, Xbox Game Studios. The newest LEGO Star Wars release this coming holiday season revolves around the "Skywalker Saga," so naturally, it's time to trot out the old LEGO Han in LEGO carbonite statue again. Coach's Pac-Man line of bags and accessories. For the discerning, fancypants gamer. More Pac-Man and classic-Namco swag. Pretty solid 10" Tekken statues. The entire Bandai Namco fancy-collectible wall was pretty great, honestly. I couldn't take photos of the Final Fantasy VII Remake gameplay kiosks, but I could take photos of the series' Shinra Corporation stuff all around it. For example, this recreation of an iconic FFVII backdrop. Square Enix put up a few Shinra advertisements around the kiosks. See? They have Midgar's best interests at heart! I really hope there's a full cartoon series hidden inside of FFVII Remake starring this cartoon dog. Someone please translate this for us. A small detail of the amazing theater room for Psychonauts 2. TEETH! Arcade1UP had a significant E3 presence with its home-friendly versions of classic arcade machines. The manufacturer used E3 to reveal its newest product: a Star Wars Atari arcade trilogy collection, coming "late 2019." Another look at its handsome side cabinet art. I had to stand on a stool to get a better look at the screen and controller. Because this cabinet was set up on a precarious platform, it was not playable at E3. An Arcade1UP representative said it collaborated with Disney and Lucasfilm in the making of this cabinet, then studied original classic arcade hardware to recreate the controller. Rather than answer my technical questions about how the controller was constructed in this modern version, the Arcade1UP rep insisted that it sought input from arcade cabinet collectors to confirm that its version nailed the original cabinets' feel and mechanical action. Another new Arcade1UP cabinet: the TMNT collection, which includes both of Konami's four-player brawlers in one cabinet. (Most of their cabs include at least two games, if not a few more.) It seems to comfortably support four players, but I liked this group's tweak: letting the middle player simultaneously control two turtles. Then there was this absolutely ridiculous thing that Arcade1UP built for the heckuvit. That's intrepid Ars Technica editor Sam Machkovech up there pretending to play the game. I hope the hand on the joystick makes clear how stupidly massive this whole rig was. But it worked... and Sam won his match. Really, Sam? Be professional. Sega's booth had its own oversized-controller gimmick to celebrate the impending launch of the Sega Genesis Mini this September. It's not really E3 until Ubisoft has a stage full of professional dancers and average fans getting down to Just Dance as one awkward collective. A peek at the poster-covered walls inside of Cyberpunk 2077's behind-closed-doors booth. Capcom had a relatively meager showing at E3, with this new Monster Hunter World expansion taking up most of the company's booth. But, hey, at least they had some nice 10" dragons under glass. Hold me closer, tiny draaaagonnnnns. Sorry, Street Fighter fans. Capcom didn't come to E3 2019 with any news about either SFV or any new fighting games. Just 10" figurines. Chun-Li and Cammy, kicking ass beneath glass. Larger than life. Just like Borderlands should be. Kyle Orland This was by far the best part of the Destroy All Humans revival attempt. Kyle Orland Pixl Cube was one of the more inventive games at the Indiecade booth, a tilt-sensitive box with LED dots that moved through a maze as if pulled by gravity. Kyle Orland In the entryway for Youtube Gaming's creator space, blocks from the show floor, a Google Stadia controller sits behind glass with a mock-up of a retro game store. Kyle Orland The YouTube Gaming space also featured some streamers on old-school CRT TVs, which was a weird look. Kyle Orland Cute. Kyle Orland The YouTube Gaming logo sits on a fake cartridge alongside... Hyper Chroma Ultra? Kyle Orland Nothing says "E3" like a guy in a Yoshi/Mario costume livestreaming himself as he balks loudly at the show floor's $6 pretzels. Kyle Orland New Wave Toys is expanding its Replicade line of authentic miniature cabinets with the likes of these two Capcom classics. Kyle Orland MyArcade is expanding from miniature cabinets to massive portable systems capable of playing actual NES and SNES cartridges. Kyle Orland MyArcade's upcoming Contra cabinet even includes link cable support for two player action. Don't you DARE touch this actual Contra cabinet in the MyArcade booth, though. Kyle Orland That being said, we attended, and Ars Technica came back from Los Angeles with plenty to show for it. In addition to a few more hands-on previews coming (which will build upon the best-of E3 2019 list we already filed), we took our cameras out at both the official E3 halls and nearby events (Xbox Fan Fest, EA Play). I gotta say, in this modern political climate, I have been calling every year "the year of doom." A very nice pencil sketch taken from the original PC game's box art. I'd never seen these minis before, but now I want to play DOOM-opoly. A better zoom on these metal beasts. Collect me plenty. Now for some impressive 3D molds of famed DOOM demons. See? It's like a museum. Funnily enough, this is my "I don't know what to do with my hands" pose when I stand for photos. The secret for awkward photo poses: turn your arms into massive rocket launchers. Way less awkward! As one of DOOM 64's longtime fans, I stood at this specific panel for a while. This might be the least-blurry these N64 sprites have ever looked. (The N64 famously smothered its sprites in a disgusting, smeary blur.) More figurines on display. More figurines on display. More swag on display. More swag on display. The result is a whopping three image galleries here. The first is a catch-all for most of the basic, expected fare, while the second and third focus on retro elements: a DOOM-specific mini-museum, and a curated collection of very rare gaming hardware and collectibles courtesy of the National Videogame Museum in Frisco, Tex. (If you've never been to that physical location before, we strongly encourage you to book a trip.) You know the retro portion of E3 is serious when they put this thing behind a rope. Truly one of a kind. Click the image to get a better look at the information placard. Yep, those are traditional Saturn controller ports. We'd never seen these Vectrex prototypes and variants before. The innards of a prototype color Vectrex system that never saw production. Kyle Orland Anybody think they can repair this thing? Yes, the only scoring cart that remains from this Super Nintendo championship event. Also, a killer Vectrex jacket. How the heck does the NVM keep finding and showing off such incredible game-history rarities? Some cool mementos from the original Mortal Kombat. The placard explains how rare this system is... ... based on this specific message signed by none other than Bill Gates. I don't care how puffy this jacket is. I'd wear it. Every year, the National Video Game Museum trots out at least one previously confidential binder taken from a major gaming company. This year's was Nintendo. I'm always fascinated by internal '80s and '90s documentation about piracy and cartridge backup systems. This section went on for a few more pages and even included grainy photos of various cartridge-copying devices. Video games: the board game! Video games: the, uh, VHS game! Well before the Game Boy revolutionized portable gaming, kids of the '70s and '80s were stuck with these clunkers. One wall was dedicated to particularly rare game consoles that launched solely in Japan. Eat your heart out, Donkey Konga. This is one of Gunpei Yokoi's classic electronic games that he designed for Nintendo in the '70s. This makes me wish Ulala was in an actual '80s cartoon. Kyle Orland In addition to popular and common fare in the coin-op section, the NVM trotted out a few machines we rarely see at classic gaming expos, like this fetching Jungle King cab. True story: we asked Double Fine studio founder and creative director Tim Schafer if he could step back for a second so we could take a photo of this handsome Omega Race cabinet. "I used to play this game all the time as a kid," he remarked before stepping away slowly. (If you're wondering, he signs his name "TIM" in high-score tables.) And we couldn't leave E3 without a walk through the almost carnival-like selection of vendors and inventions in the expo's very back hall. Look below at the show's weird "et cetera" section. Here's a gallery of E3 2019's oddest booths and products. "Wow, how nice and COOL!" we're sure you are saying to yourself. Kyle Orland Thermoreal uses superconductors (?!) to simulate a cold or hot feeling in metal. The company integrated this tech into VR-compatible gloves and a VR headset. As the VR environment changes, so does the sensation of real-life temperature. Trippy! Kyle Orland This 1,000 MaH battery pack for the Switch was heavy, but the harness made it pretty easy to slide on and off to use only when it's needed. Kyle Orland Some extremely generic-looking custom chip boards for use in mini-arcade devices and portable emulation devices. If anybody reading this has the rights to the Atari Jaguar Mini, look them up. Kyle Orland Why stream games to a smartphone with Google Stadia when the Smach Z packs an entire 1080p gaming PC with a 6" screen into a rather bulky portable package? Doom (2016) ran with noticeable judders, and the unit got noticeably hot in our test. But the fact that it works at all was impressive. Kyle Orland The Tactsuit haptic system jolts your body when playing compatible VR games and software. Kyle Orland The Vuvana system has something to do with using a new blockchain cryptocurrency to buy and "own" items in virtual reality, which you can view on a cell phone with this included viewer, apparently. Kyle Orland Oversized controllers were all the rage at E3 2019, but this one went to the trouble of building in a monitor for its game, Street Fighter 2. Kyle Orland Remember the iCade Mini? Someone sure does... Kyle Orland GameBoks is just like it sounds—a wooden box that houses a monitor, power supply, and a space to hold and connect your game console. Between this and the new Atari VCS, wood paneling is apparently the hot new retro-hardware trend. Kyle Orland Proximat is being sold as a "mousepad for your virtual reality feet." It gives VR players a physical indication of their play space's center point, complete with high-grade gel for foot comfort. Kyle Orland If this is a thing you're looking for (for some reason), E3 has you covered. Kyle Orland Amazingly, a product with "360 ONE X" in its name has nothing to do with Xbox (it's a 360 degree camera designed for VR) Kyle Orland Neither vinyl nor fidget spinners are dead at E3 2019. Kyle Orland I need some quick energy after seeing all of these amazing products. It's my lucky day! Kyle Orland How do you make money selling $100 worth of stuff for $40? It's an economic miracle! Kyle Orland This balance board is mainly meant for some easy exercise while at a standing desk, but its producers were marketing it to gamers with a Mortal Kombat 11 display. Kyle Orland And the award for "most dystopian sounding slogan at E3" goes to... Kyle Orland "In the 1989 Future" is a legitimately great tagline, we have to admit. Kyle Orland Listing image by Sam Machkovech Read More Read the full article

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lesbianrewrites · 7 years

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Sorcerer’s Stone Chapter 09

*disclaimer* This is a project done for fun, and none of these characters/works belong to me. I do not claim to own any of the material on this page.

This is a Lesbian edit of Harry Potter by J.K Rowling.

Special Saturday Chapter Release

Chapters will normally be posted every Monday, Wednesday & Friday around 9-10pm EST.

Google doc version can be found here. The chapter can also be found under the cut. Enjoy!

The Midnight Duel

Hayley had never believed she would meet someone she hated more than Dudley, but that was before she met Druella Malfoy. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn’t have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn’t until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday — and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

“Typical,” said Hayley darkly. “Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.”

She had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

“You don’t know that you’ll make a fool of yourself,” said Raine reasonably. “Anyway, I know Malfoy’s always going on about how good she is at Quidditch, but I bet that’s all talk.”

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. She complained loudly about first years never getting on the House Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with her narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. She wasn’t the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he’d spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Raine would tell anyone who’d listen about the time they’d almost hit a hang glider on Charlie’s old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Raine had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas about soccer. Raine had never understood what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Hayley had caught Raine prodding Dean’s poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Hayley felt she’d had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn’t learn by heart out of a book — not that she hadn’t tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she’d gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione’s lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Hayley hadn’t had a single letter since Hagrid’s note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy’s eagle owl was always bringing her packages of sweets from home, which she opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

“It’s a Remembrall!” he explained. “Gran knows I forget things — this tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red — oh …” His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, “… you’ve forgotten something …”

Neville was trying to remember what he’d forgotten when Druella Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Hayley and Raine jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

“What’s going on?”

“Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, Professor.”

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

“Just looking,” she said, and she sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind her.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Hayley, Raine, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Hayley had heard Frankie and Glory Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

“Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

Hayley glanced down at her broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch at the front, “and say ‘Up!’ ”

“UP!” everyone shouted.

Hayley’s broom jumped into her hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger’s had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville’s hadn’t moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Hayley; there was a quaver in Neville’s voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Hayley and Raine were delighted when she told Malfoy she’d been doing it wrong for years.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” said Madam Hooch. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —”

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch’s lips.

“Come back, boy!” she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle — twelve feet — twenty feet. Hayley saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and —

WHAM — a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

“Broken wrist,” Hayley heard her mutter. “Come on, boy — it’s all right, up you get.”

She turned to the rest of the class.

“None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’ Come on, dear.”

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

“Did you see his face, the great lump?”

The other Slytherins joined in.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” snapped Parvati Patil.

“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. “Never thought you’d like fat little crybabies, Parvati.”

“Look!” said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.”

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as she held it up.

“Give that here, Malfoy,” said Hayley quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

“I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find — how about — up a tree?”

“Give it here!” Hayley yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto her broomstick and taken off. She hadn’t been lying, she could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak she called, “Come and get it, Potter!”

Hayley grabbed her broom.

“No!” shouted Hermione Granger. “Madam Hooch told us not to move — you’ll get us all into trouble.”

Hayley ignored her. Blood was pounding in her ears. She mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up she soared; air rushed through her hair, and her robes whipped out behind her — and in a rush of fierce joy she realized she’d found something she could do without being taught — this was easy, this was wonderful. She pulled her broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of the other girls back on the ground and an admiring cry of encouragement from Raine.

She turned her broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

“Give it here,” Hayley called, “or I’ll knock you off that broom!”

“Oh, yeah?” said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

Hayley knew, somehow, what to do. She leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Hayley made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

“No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy,” Hayley called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

“Catch it if you can, then!” she shouted, and she threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Hayley saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. She leaned forward and pointed her broom handle down — next second she was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball — wind whistled in her ears, mingled with the screams of people watching — she stretched out her hand — a foot from the ground she caught it, just in time to pull her broom straight, and she toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in her fist.

“HAYLEY POTTER!”

Her heart sank faster than she’d just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. She got to her feet, trembling.

“Never — in all my time at Hogwarts —”

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, “— how dare you — might have broken your neck —”

“It wasn’t her fault, Professor —”

“Be quiet, Miss Patil —”

“But Malfoy —”

“That’s enough, Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.”

Hayley caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s triumphant faces as she left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall’s wake as she strode toward the castle. She was going to be expelled, she just knew it. She wanted to say something to defend herself, but there seemed to be something wrong with her voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at her; she had to jog to keep up. Now she’d done it. She hadn’t even lasted two weeks. She’d be packing her bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when she turned up on the doorstep?

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn’t say a word to her. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Hayley trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking her to Dumbledore. She thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps she could be Hagrid’s assistant. Her stomach twisted as she imagined it, watching Raine and the others becoming witches and wizards while she stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid’s bag.

Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

“Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?”

Wood? thought Hayley, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on her?

But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year girl who came out of Flitwick’s class looking confused.

“Follow me, you two,” said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Hayley.

“In here.”

Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

“Out, Peeves!” she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two.

“Potter, this is Octavia Wood. Wood — I’ve found you a Seeker.”

Wood’s expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

“Are you serious, Professor?”

“Absolutely,” said Professor McGonagall crisply. “The girl’s a natural. I’ve never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?”

Hayley nodded silently. She didn’t have a clue what was going on, but she didn’t seem to be getting expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to her legs.

“She caught that thing in her hand after a fifty-foot dive,” Professor McGonagall told Wood. “Didn’t even scratch herself. Charlie Weasley couldn’t have done it.”

Wood was now looking as though all her dreams had come true at once.

“Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?” she asked excitedly.

“Wood’s captain of the Gryffindor team,” Professor McGonagall explained.

“She’s just the build for a Seeker, too,” said Wood, now walking around Hayley and staring at her. “Light — speedy — we’ll have to get her a decent broom, Professor — a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I’d say.”

“I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can’t bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn’t look Severus Snape in the face for weeks. …”

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Hayley.

“I want to hear you’re training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you.”

Then she suddenly smiled.

“June would have been proud,” she said. “She was an excellent Quidditch player herself.”

“You’re joking.”

It was dinnertime. Hayley had just finished telling Raine what had happened when she’d left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Raine had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to their mouth, but they’d forgotten all about it.

“Seeker?” they said. “But first years never — you must be the youngest House player in about —”

“— a century,” said Hayley, shoveling pie into her mouth. She felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. “Wood told me.”

Raine was so amazed, so impressed, they just sat and gaped at Hayley.

“I start training next week,” said Hayley. “Only don’t tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret.”

Frankie and Glory Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Hayley, and hurried over.

“Well done,” said Glory in a low voice. “Wood told us. We’re on the team too — Beaters.”

“I tell you, we’re going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year,” said Frankie. “We haven’t won since Charlie left, but this year’s team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Hayley, Wood was almost skipping when she told us.”

“Anyway, we’ve got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he’s found a new secret passageway out of the school.”

“Bet it’s that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you.”

Frankie and Glory had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

“Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?”

“You’re a lot braver now that you’re back on the ground and you’ve got your little friends with you,” said Hayley coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

“I’d take you on anytime on my own,” said Malfoy. “Tonight, if you want. Wizard’s duel. Wands only — no contact. What’s the matter? Never heard of a wizard’s duel before, I suppose?”

“Of course she has,” said Raine, wheeling around. “I’m her second, who’s yours?”

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

“Crabbe,” she said. “Midnight all right? We’ll meet you in the trophy room; that’s always unlocked.”

When Malfoy had gone, Raine and Hayley looked at each other.

“What is a wizard’s duel?” said Hayley. “And what do you mean, you’re my second?”

“Well, a second’s there to take over if you die,” said Raine casually, getting started at last on their cold pie. Catching the look on Hayley’s face, they added quickly, “But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy’ll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet she expected you to refuse, anyway.”

“And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?”

“Throw it away and punch her on the nose,” Raine suggested.

“Excuse me.

They both looked up. It was Hermione Granger.

“Can’t a person eat in peace in this place?” said Raine.

Hermione ignored them and spoke to Hayley.

“I couldn’t help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying —”

“Bet you could,” Raine muttered.

“— and you mustn’t go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you’ll lose Gryffindor if you’re caught, and you’re bound to be. It’s really very selfish of you.”

“And it’s really none of your business,” said Hayley.

“Good-bye,” said Raine.

All the same, it wasn’t what you’d call the perfect end to the day, Hayley thought, as she lay awake much later listening to Lavender and Parvati falling asleep. (Hermione was already asleep) Raine had spent all evening giving her advice such as “If she tries to curse you, you’d better dodge it, because I can’t remember how to block them.” There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Hayley felt she was pushing her luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoy’s sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness — this was her big chance to beat Malfoy face-to-face. She couldn’t miss it.

“Half-past eleven,” Raine muttered at last, “we’d better go.”

They pulled on their bathrobes, picked up their wands, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, “I can’t believe you’re going to do this, Hayley.”

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.

“You!” said Raine furiously. “How are you even- Go back to bed!”

“I almost told your brother,” Hermione snapped, “Percy — he’s a prefect, he’d put a stop to this.”

Hayley couldn’t believe anyone could be so interfering.

“Come on,” she said to Raine. She pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.

Hermione wasn’t going to give up that easily. She followed Raine through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.

“Don’t you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don’t want Slytherin to win the House Cup, and you’ll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells.”

“Go away.”

“All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you’re on the train home tomorrow, you’re so —”

But what they were, they didn’t find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor Tower.

“Now what am I going to do?” she asked shrilly.

“That’s your problem,” said Raine. “We’ve got to go, we’re going to be late.”

They hadn’t even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

“I’m coming with you,” she said.

“You are not.”

“D’you think I’m going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us I’ll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up.”

“You’ve got some nerve —” said Raine loudly.

“Shut up, both of you!” said Hayley sharply. “I heard something.”

It was a sort of snuffling.

“Mrs. Norris?” breathed Raine, squinting through the dark.

It wasn’t Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.

“Thank goodness you found me! I’ve been out here for hours, I couldn’t remember the new password to get into bed.”

“Keep your voice down, Neville. The password’s ‘Pig snout’ but it won’t help you now, the Fat Lady’s gone off somewhere.”

“How’s your arm?” said Hayley.

“Fine,” said Neville, showing them. “Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute.”

“Good — well, look, Neville, we’ve got to be somewhere, we’ll see you later —”

“Don’t leave me!” said Neville, scrambling to his feet, “I don’t want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baroness has been past twice already.”

Raine looked at their watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.

“If either of you get us caught, I’ll never rest until I’ve learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you.

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Raine exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Hayley hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Hayley expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren’t there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Hayley took out her wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

“She’s late, maybe she’s chickened out,” Raine whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Hayley had only just raised her wand when they heard someone speak — and it wasn’t Malfoy.

“Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.”

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Hayley waved madly at the other three to follow her as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch’s voice. Neville’s robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

“They’re in here somewhere,” they heard him mutter, “probably hiding.”

“This way!” Hayley mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run — he tripped, grabbed Raine around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

“RUN!” Hayley yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following — they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Hayley in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going — they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

“I think we’ve lost him,” Hayley panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping her forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

“I — told — you,” Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, “I — told — you.”

“We’ve got to get back to Gryffindor Tower,” said Raine, “quickly as possible.”

“Malfoy tricked you,” Hermione said to Hayley. “You realize that, don’t you? She was never going to meet you — Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off.”

Hayley thought Hermione was probably right, but she wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Let’s go.”

It wasn’t going to be that simple. They hadn’t gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

“Shut up, Peeves — please — you’ll get us thrown out.”

Peeves cackled.

“Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caughty.”

“Not if you don’t give us away, Peeves, please.”

“Should tell Filch, I should,” said Peeves in a sanity voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. “It’s for your own good, you know.”

“Get out of the way,” snapped Raine, taking a swipe at Peeves — this was a big mistake.

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED!” Peeves bellowed, “STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!”

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door — and it was locked.

“This is it!” Raine moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, “We’re done for! This is the end!”

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves’s shouts.

“Oh, move over,” Hermione snarled. She grabbed Hayley’s wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, “Alohomora!”

The lock clicked and the door swung open — they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

“Which way did they go, Peeves?” Filch was saying. “Quick, tell me.”

“Say ‘please.’ ”

“Don’t mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?”

“Shan’t say nothing if you don’t say please,” said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

“All right — please.”

“NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn’t say nothing if you didn’t say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!” And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

“He thinks this door is locked,” Hayley whispered. “I think we’ll be okay — get off, Neville!” For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Hayley’s bathrobe for the last minute. “What?”

Hayley turned around — and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, she was sure she’d walked into a nightmare — this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren’t in a room, as she had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Hayley knew that the only reason they weren’t already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Hayley groped for the doorknob — between Filch and death, she’d take Filch.

They fell backward — Hayley slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn’t see him anywhere, but they hardly cared — all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn’t stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

“Where on earth have you all been?” she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

“Never mind that — pig snout, pig snout,” panted Hayley, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he’d never speak again.

“What do they think they’re doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?” said Raine finally. “If any dog needs exercise, that one does.”

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again.

“You don’t use your eyes, any of you, do you?” she snapped. “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

“The floor?” Hayley suggested. “I wasn’t looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads.”

“No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It’s obviously guarding something.”

She stood up, glaring at them.

“I hope you’re pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed — or worse, expelled. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.”

Raine stared after her, their mouth open.

“No, we don’t mind,” they said. “You’d think we dragged her along, wouldn’t you?”

But Hermione had given Hayley something else to think about as she climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something. … What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide — except perhaps Hogwarts.

It looked as though Hayley had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.

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