#I'm going to pause my watch session now and watch something else

[hyperkittyjkat]

me: man why aren't people talking about aono and saeki ???? like they're so cute together, such a cute ship, they're literally rivals to lovers like I'm surprised no one's said anything

episode 17:

me: oh.

[lostgirlmuseum]

Who the Hell is Daryl?

Summary: Bucky is in love with you, and finally finds the courage to tell you. But what happens when it sounds like someone else is already in the picture? (Miscommunication!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Avenger!Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: Miscommunication trope! Only one small mention of “Y/N”, teensy bit of yelling, let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Wrote this a couple days ago and put it in drafts, spontaneously posted bc I'm procrastinating on an essay. Okay I'll get back to hw now :(

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

He was going to do it. He was really going to do it. 

He was finally going to ask you out.

-----

To the surprise of everyone on the team, you and Bucky had become fast pals after you joined six months ago. Something about the two of you clicked. ‘Opposites attract’ and all that, but Bucky always felt it went deeper than that.

The two of you had never argued, something he felt very proud of, considering he argued with most people. But not you. Never you.

The moment he decided that he needed to man up and ask you out wasn’t anything fancy. You were sparring with Wanda across the gym, and he was simply watching you work in tandem. He watched the entire 15 minute session, and didn’t take his eyes off you, even as you approached him. 

“Buck, I’m out of water, can I take a sip of yours?”

He nodded, “Sure, Doll,” and tossed you his bottle. 

You shot him a charming smile and opened the cap, and not-so-gracefully chugged half the bottle. You wiped your upper lip and handed it back to him. 

“Thanks, Jamie,” you breathily said, and jogged back to the arena. 

His head was completely empty except for a single thought, tumbling through his desert mind like a tumbleweed.

I’m going to marry her someday.

He shocked himself with the thought, he wasn’t sure where it had come from. But he couldn’t help the grin that snuck its way onto his lips as he realized he didn’t disagree with the thought.

Of course before marriage is dating. One step at a time Buck. 

After his realization, he had spent the next three days planning the perfect way to ask you out. He went through an entire list of ideas, but none of them seemed good enough for you. He wanted it to be perfect. But as the clock ticked on and he started running out of paper, he realized it was best to just be honest about his feelings. 

You had just gotten back from a solo mission, and Bucky was hanging out in your room as you showered.

He was blushing like an idiot and fidgeting like crazy on your bed as he waited for you to hurry up. It was surprising he had so much self control as to not blurt it out while you were showering.

“Oh, Bucky,” you called from the bathroom, the sound of the water pausing.

“What’s up?”

“Could you set an alarm on my phone for 7:30 A.M. tomorrow before I forget? I think I left it on the side table.”

“You got it, Doll.”

“You’re the best! I’m almost done, I’ll be out in like two minutes,” you called, and soon after the sound of rushing water resumed.

Bucky grabbed your phone and typed in the passcode, his heart fluttering a little as he thought about how you trusted him enough to know it.

But the flutter stopped almost as quickly as it started, the moment your phone turned on and resumed on your text string with someone. He would’ve ignored it, but a red heart at the top of the screen caught his eye.

Who the hell is “Daryl,” and why does he have a heart emoji next to his name?

Bucky couldn’t help himself as his eyes flitted over your last texts.

Daryl ❤️ I’m back in town, lemme know when you’re around 

You About to leave for a quick mission, but I’ll be back tmw evening. I miss you sm :( how about we meet up Monday morning at 8 at Bernie’s cafe?

Daryl ❤️ Lets do it. And I miss you too, can’t wait to see your beautiful face!! I love you, be careful

You Love you too, and Im always careful 😘

Bucky felt sick to his stomach. You had never mentioned a brother named Daryl, or any other kind of family member. And you’d told him about all your closest friends, and none of them were named Daryl. How did Bucky not know you had a boyfriend?

Bucky fought the urge to scroll up, and quickly tapped out of the app, and set the alarm you asked him to set. 

So you were meeting this “Daryl” tomorrow morning?

Bucky heard the water stop, and the sound of the shower curtain shuffling.

Shit. You were getting out. Fuck, he wasn’t ready to face you.

You’d never mentioned you were in a relationship before. He would remember. How long have you been dating? And more importantly, why did you keep this from him? Did you feel like you couldn’t trust him? Maybe you weren’t as close friends as he’d thought.

“Which movie did you want to watch tonight?” You asked, peeking out of the door with a turquoise towel wrapped around you.

“Um, I’m actually really tired, suddenly. I think I’m going to go to bed.” Bucky stuttered, avoiding your gaze as he quickly stood up.

“Oh, okay,” you responded, disappointment and concern lacing your voice. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. Glad you got back safe. Good night.”

With that, Bucky ducked out of your room and practically ran back to his.

Bucky tossed and turned, and once he got over his embarrassment, he settled into a familiar depressive feeling. Of course you didn’t like him back. What the fuck was he thinking? He’s—well, he’s Bucky. Broken, only destined to ever be your friend. How could he be foolish enough to think you would love him like he loves you. At about hour 4, the heartbreak started turning into betrayal. Betrayal that you kept this from him. And soon enough, that betrayal festered into a kind of resentment, something he’d never felt for you before.

He didn’t get much sleep that night.

Bucky checked the clock for the 20th time in the past 5 minutes. 7:45 A.M. You were probably about to leave. Bucky felt his heart clench. He was usually up by 7, and eating breakfast in the common area by 7:30. He sat at the barstool, dragging his spoon around his now soggy Coco Puffs, waiting for you to appear. Why he felt the need to torture himself, he didn’t know.

Finally, he heard your steps coming down the hall. 

And there you appeared, wearing the most beautiful sundress he had ever seen. It was lavender, and had small white flowers adorning the skirt, and it fell just above your knees. 

Bucky took you in, and his momentary adoration turned back to his heartbreak. You were dressed up as if you were going on a date. There was no chance this wasn’t your boyfriend.

“Good morning Bucky, did you sleep okay last night?” 

“Yes.” He lied. Maybe you would tell him the truth if he asked. Yes it would hurt hearing the truth from your mouth, but he wanted to give you a chance to tell him your secret. “Where are you headed?”

“To meet a friend,” you nodded smoothly. 

Maybe Bucky was crazy. Maybe he was overthinking all of this. Maybe Daryl really was just a friend.

“Which friend?”

“Penny.”

So you were just flat out lying to him now. Bucky nodded and waited for you to leave before moping back to his room. He wanted to cry. And he did for a minute, or two, but his tears turned from sad to angry when he remembered you were now lying. You never lied to Bucky, and Bucky never lied to you. At least, he thought that was how it was. He clenched his fists, mad at you for betraying him, but more mad at himself for believing he could ever have you.

He didn’t move from his bed.

“Bucky?” Your voice emerged after three knocks to his door.

He couldn’t get himself to respond. 

The door slowly creaked open, a stream of light flooding his dark room.

“Hey Buck. You okay? You seemed a little off this morning.”

“Fine.” He mumbled, not turning over in bed to face you.

A pause. 

“Jamie, what’s wrong?” You asked, closing the door behind you and flicking on the light. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?” You asked, slightly taken aback. You thought he loved your affectionate nickname for him.

“I don’t want you to call me ‘Jamie’ anymore.”

“Okay…”

He felt the bed dip as you sat next to him. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, “please talk to me.”

He sat up and gave you a pointed look. Was he being immature? Yes. But what could he do, he just discovered that his best friend has been lying to him, and doesn’t love him.

“Where were you?” He asked.

You furrowed your brows a moment, trying to piece together where he was going with this. 

“I was at Bernie’s with Penny.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He sneered.

Your eyes widened at his bite.

“I’m not lying? Bucky, what is going on?”

“What’s going on is that you’ve been keeping the fact that you have a boyfriend from me. Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“A boyfriend?” You blinked. “I don’t have a boyfriend,”

“Why won’t you be honest with me?” He yelled, and you scooted back.

“I am!”

“Then who is Daryl?”

“What?”

“I saw your texts last night, when you asked me to set your alarm.” Bucky looked down at his lap, ashamed.

“Bucky,” you sighed, and a look of understanding crossed your face. A moment later you held out your phone to him.

“What?” He asked, dumbly looking at your outstretched hand. The screen was on your text string with Daryl.

“Call the number.” You simply said.

“What?” He repeated.

“Take my phone, and call the number.”

Confused and suspicious, Bucky grabbed your phone and hesitated over the call icon. 

“Go ahead,” you urged.

He pressed the button. 

Ring.

Ring.

Ri—

“Hey!” A familiar feminine voice rang through the speaker. “What’s up hon?”

“Hello?” Bucky said, looking from the phone to you to the phone.

“Uh, hi? Is that Bucky?”

“P—Penny?” He sputtered.

“Hey Bucky! What’s up, is everything okay? I thought Y/N was calling.”

“Hey Pen,” you interjected, “Everything’s fine, I’ll call you back in a bit, kay’?”

“Sure thing, bye, love ya,” Penny added, and hung up.

Bucky stared at the now blank phone, baffled.

“I don’t understand.”

“Bucky,” you sighed, and tilted his chin to look at you. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Penny is in my contacts as “Daryl” because it’s my funny little nickname for her. My Dad has had a best friend since grade school named Daryl, and they don’t see each other often, but when they do it’s like nothing has changed. They get along like no time has passed. I call Penny “my Daryl” because I know that even if we don’t talk for years, we are so close that I know we would be the exact same.”

Bucky sat quietly for a moment, simply taking in your story. He felt really stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry I called you a liar.” He struggled to meet your gaze, ashamed of what he did.

“Jamie—can I call you Jamie now?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Jamie, I forgive you. But I wish you had just talked to me about it, and asked me. We are usually so good about being open with each other. What happened?” You asked, wide eyes looking into his.

“I know, I’m sorry. I flipped out, I guess I was just shocked, because I was going to—” he licked his lips, “well, I was…”

“You can tell me, Bucky. Honesty, remember?” You soothed, placing your hand on his leg.

He gulped.

“I was going to ask you to be with me.”

You tilted your head, not quite understanding.

“Like, I was gonna ask if you’d let me be your boyfriend.” He mumbled. “So when I saw that you were texting and saying ‘I love you’ to some guy, I guess I was just blindsided.”

“James,” you smiled, moving yourself to sit on his lap. You brought your forehead against his. “You silly, jealous man.” You gently stroked his cheek with your right hand. “You want to be my boyfriend?"

"It sounds so juvenile, I don't know, I just want you to be mine, and for you to call me 'yours,'" he mumbled.

"I accept," you giggled, and watched his glittering eyes shoot to yours.

He had started to say something, but he stopped when you brought your soft lips to his.

“I'm so happy,” he whispered between kisses.

Suffice it to say, Bucky completed step one of the path to marrying you.

A/N: Tysm for reading! If you liked it, please feel free to let me know!

Also I'm sorry if the ending sucks, I wrote this in a couple hours and Idk why I'm so bad at endings gahh

Here's my Masterlist if you'd like to read more!

[nonotnolan]

Roommate Rehab

The worst part about coming back to my apartment and seeing my roommate's detached head watching a movie on the couch? Knowing that it meant his body was making a mess somewhere else. My original plans to room with other guys in my major had fallen through, and I ended up stuck sharing a lease with Glenn, a warlock whose sole focus seemed to be working out and getting laid. There was always a thin layer of empty protein shake bottles and dirty dishes on the floor, all of his clothes were flung onto random surfaces in the living room, and the entire room smelled like a dank locker room.

"Dammit, Glenn!" I yelled, trying to be heard over the sound of Netflix. "Your body is making a mess in the kitchen again!"

He just rolled his eyes at me. "Whatever, you know that I like to have me time in the evenings. My body is just taking a break from doing pushups, or something. You're gay, you like the eye candy."

I tried not to let his cheap jab bother me. "More like it's taking a break from jacking off," I muttered. At least it was wearing pants this time. Half the time Glenn's body was wiping its bare ass all over our countertops, rather than just dripping sweat everywhere.

Today, I was not going to be bothered. Today, I had a plan.

"You know, I heard something interesting from our new neighbor Allan," I said, casually slipping off my backpack. "It turns out he's a warlock too. And he mentioned that you should have a lot more control over your detached body than you told me."

Glenn didn't even bother to look over in my direction. "We've been over this, dweeb. I can't stop my body from taking off its clothes if it gets uncomfortable. I bet he's using a different spell or something."

I slowly made my way over to the kitchen, where his body was just lounging around. "Good question. He's right here, so why don't you ask him yourself?" I pulled Allan's head out of my backpack, taking care not to pull his hair too hard. "Or maybe I'll just put his head on your body."

"Don't you fucking dare!" he yelled, trying to scramble his body to its feet. It was too late, though. I lunged forward, placing Allan's head onto Glenn's neck. There was a flash of magic, and now it was Allan in control of Glenn's massive muscles. "You fucking thief! Don't you dare just leave me as a detached head!"

Allan picked up Glenn's head and set him down on the end table. "Calm down. It's selfish jerks like you who give warlocks a bad name. We'll get bored of punishing you... eventually." He sprawled across the couch, and started rubbing his new hands across his bulging abs. "I have to admit, controlling a body like this, I do kind of understand the appeal. I thought we'd give him back his body after a few hours, but maybe I'll keep it for a day or two."

Allan looked over at me with a shit-eating grin. "What do you think, neighbor? Want to help me break in my new body?"

"You know it!" I said, kneeling down to suck on Allan's new, rock hard nipples. "But we're staying out here on the couch. Glenn has been an absolute ass these past several months, and I want him to see everything that we do to his body. I want him to know that it all could have been avoided if he hadn't been such an asshole to me." Allan's fingers ran through my hair as my mouth started to wander down south toward his crotch.

Glenn's head started to scream so loudly that he tipped over sideways. "No! No! Don't you dare! Stop it! No!" He kept yelling as my hand slipped into Allan's waistband and pulled out his stiffening cock.

"Damn, son," Allan said, letting out a low whistle. "That's gotta be... what, seven inches? That settles it, I'm keeping this body for the weekend. Here, let me grab my own body from down the hall." I paused our makeout session to let Allan concentrate, and pretty soon the headless body of a bear let itself into our apartment.

"Absolutely not!" Glenn yelled, as Allan's original body started to slowly unbutton its shirt. "I'd rather stay headless than be stuck piloting that hairy sack of fat!"

Allan just shrugged, his smug grin getting even wider. "Suit yourself," he said, rubbing his chest while I stripped off my clothes. "We'll just have a threesome with my bodies while you watch."

"Hold that thought," I said, grabbing one of Glenn's stray socks from off the floor. Placing one hand on his forehead, I shoved the sock deep into his mouth to gag him. He coughed and sputtered, but the cheap cotton was starting to cling to the inside of his mouth. "I want him to watch, but I'd rather not have to listen to him spew insults."

Allan laughed as he watched Glenn's head trying and failing to spit out the makeshift gag. "Sounds good to me. This is your fantasy, bud, I'm just here to enjoy the ride. How do you want me?"

I paused, weighing pleasure and humiliation as I decided how to fuck my roommate's hot body. It helped that Allan's head was easy on the eyes, of course. "Let's start with a double spoon. Your old body penetrates your new ass, and your new cock penetrates my ass."

"You don't want to dump a load in your roommate's bubble butt?" Allan said, slapping it for emphasis.

"Oh, trust me, that ass is on my list," I said, returning his smile. "But if we've got the whole weekend, I figure I should pace myself."

[squoxle]

“Fuck Him, Let’s Play” ~ Felix ff 18+

👾pairing: Lee Felix!bf x Reader!gf | 👾wc: 1.7k | 👾summary: All you wanted to do was spend some time with your boyfriend, Felix. But when your little "Netflix and Chill" session is interrupted by his best friend, Chan, you must find another way to get what you came here for. No matter what. |👾cw: profanity, swearing, alcohol consumption, drunk sex, oral m. receiving, fingering f., creampie, facial, voyeurism, exhibitionism (basically porn with a plot: read at your own discretion)

link to part 2

You were over at your boyfriend Felix's house to spend some time with him. What you didn't expect was for him to be whisked away by his best friend Chan for an all night gaming session.

You sat idly on Felix’s bed as the two of the tapped away. You watched for a little while before you couldn’t take it anymore. You tried entertaining yourself on your phone but it was useless. You came over for your boyfriend not your phone.

“Felix~” you whined.

“Yeah, babe. What’s up?” He said with his eyes still fixed on the screen.

“How much longer are you gonna play the game?” You pouted.

“Uhhh…this’ll be the last game okay,” he said before getting back into the game.

You only sighed in response this was the third time he said that. He and Chan had been gaming for almost 3 hours straight now without a break. Unless you count pausing to laugh or change the game.

You were so annoyed by Chan right now. Most of the time you didn’t mind him being around, but he literally barged in.

Before he came over, you and Felix were laying on the couch together getting ready to watch a movie. You both knew that the movie was gonna end up watching itself after a while. But all sexy, freaky, horny thoughts went straight out the window as soon as you heard that knock on the door.

Chan had a special little knock. You immediately knew it was him before your boyfriend even got up to open the door.

“Hey bro!” Chan smiled as he walked in, dapping Felix up.

“Hey, what are you doing here? I told you to come over tomorrow,” Felix said as he ruffled his hair.

“Yeah, I know. But I need to take my mind off of a situation,” Chan raised an eyebrow.

“Situation?”

“Yeah. Remember that girl I was telling you about?”

“Yeah. What about her?”

“Well, today I met her boyfriend.”

“No way…” Felix’s jaw dropped.

“Way. And then she was all like ‘Why are you getting so upset bro? We’re just friends.’ I felt like such an idiot standing there. I couldn’t even hang around anymore. So I cooled off and came over here.”

“Damn. That’s insane. I’m surprised she never mentioned anything about him.”

“Exactly! I mean she could’ve at least told me that. Then I wouldn’t gotten myself so hung up on her y’know.”

“Yeah, bro. I get it,” Felix said placing a hand on Chan’s shoulder. "I think I know exactly what you need right now," Felix smiled.

"To get completely wasted and game till I pass out?" Chan tilted his head.

"You got it," Felix chuckled before walking over to you.

You were still sitting on the couch wrapped up in Sonic the Hedgehog blanket. Before he said a single word, you already knew what was coming next.

"Raincheck?" He smiled nervously. "I'm really sorry, babe, but this is kind of an emergency. I promise I'll make it up to you," he said before placing a kiss on your forehead. "Just a few games, okay. And then we can spend the whole night together."

"Go ahead," you sighed before following him to his bedroom and plopping yourself on the bed. And that's exactly where you've been this whole time.

Since talking to him wasn't working, you needed to try something else. You were desperate, and at this point, you were willing to do whatever to get what you wanted.

You climbed out of bed and walked over to sit on Felix's lap while he played the game. As expected, he happily allowed you to sit between his legs.

His chin rested on your shoulder as he continued gaming, ignoring you as if you didn't even exist.

It was time for the second part of your plan, casually turn him on to get him in the mood. "God, I hope this works," you thought to yourself as you began to slowly move your ass around on his lap.

He sat back at bit, assuming you were trying to get comfortable. That was until you started to do an up and down movement. Almost bouncing, but not quite. Chan was still sitting next to him and you didn't want to divert too much attention to yourself.

"Ngh," Felix grunted as you reached between your legs to graze his dick through his sweatpants with your fingers. "What are you doing?" he whispered to which you only mischievously smiled in response.

Felix wasn't pissy drunk yet, but he was getting there. And you knew once that happened, you could do almost anything to him. Chan on the other hand was a lot drunker than Felix.

Chan reached for the beer bottle that sat on the dresser before tipping his head back to catch the last drop on his tongue.

"Damn...I'm all out," he said looking at the empty bottle. "Did you want me to get you another?" Chan asked as he stood up.

"Ummm, sure. But they're none left in the fridge. You'll have to go out to my car and get the other case," Felix hiccuped as he guided you off of his lap. "Wait. Lemme get the keys for you," His words were slightly slurred together.

You watched as he staggered over to the closet to grab his car keys out of his jacket pocket. "Here ya go, mate," he said placing the keys in Chan's hands.

Felix plopped back down in the chair as Chan left the room. You were standing up near the TV, but instead of sitting back down on his lap, you crawled between his legs.

You took both of your hands and pressed them up against Felix's semi-hard-on. He was staring at the ceiling until you did that. "Woah, babe. What are you doing?" he said as his eyes widened.

"I'm doing exactly what I came over here to do. Have a little fun with my boyfriend," you smirked as you reached into his pants and pulled out his dick.

"Babe, we can't do this right now. Chan's still here. Can you please wait just a little bit longer?" he pleaded.

"Uh uh. I've waited long enough. I want it right now," you pouted before spitting on his tip and wrapping your lips around him.

He threw his head back as you began sucking on his tip. You bobbed your head up and down as your boyfriend gripped onto the arm rests.

"Mmm," he moaned softly as you looked up to meet his eyes. You knew that nothing turned your boyfriend on more than the lustful way you looked at him while sucking his dick.

"Hey, I got the drinks--" Chan stopped in the door frame as he came in to see you sucking his friend off.

"Oh shit!" Felix immediately snapped out of the seductive trance you had put him in and tried to cover himself.

"Umm...should I go?" Chan asked as both of you looked at him standing there in shock.

"Uhhh...I...umm" Felix stammered as his eyes darted back and forth between you and Chan.

"You guys can keep playing the game. I don't mind," you shrugged.

"What? Are you sure?" Chan asked while Felix sat speechless in the chair.

"Yeah. You two can play the game while I have fun down here," you smiled.

"Seriously?" Felix gasped.

"Yeah," you giggled.

"Umm...okay," Felix stuttered as Chan came over to sit next to him while you got back to sucking his dick.

You stroked up and down on his dick as he tried to stay focused on the game in front of him. However, you felt another set of eyes on you. It was Chan, he was almost drolling while he watched you suck his friend off. You looked down to see the growing bulge in his pants.

"Dude! What the fuck? This is my girlfriend," Felix spat as he caught Chan getting turned on by you. "Look, babe. We're gonna have to do this later. I don't wanna see my friend drooling over you right in front of me."

"Sorry, man it's just--"

"Fuck him, let's play," you said cutting Chan off as you started sucking your boyfriend's throbbing dick again. Before he could even argue with you, you moaned with his cock in your mouth. The vibrations from your throat were just what you needed to distract him.

You pushed your head down trying to fit as much of him in your mouth as possible.

"It's okay just this one time baby," you cooed as Felix nodded in response.

You caught Chan palming himself in your peripheral vision. Noticing that you were also getting him turned on, you really began performing. You started to suck harder and faster as you reached your hand between your legs to finger yourself.

Chan pulled out his dick and began stroking it up and down as he watched you sucking dick while moaning and fingering yourself.

You sat back to suck the wetness from your fingers before wrapping your lips around Felix's dick again. You could feel him getting more turned on as he pushed your head down and grunted loudly while he fucked your throat.

You could feel every inch pumping in and out of your throat. Every so often he would pull back to allow you to get some air, but at this point, he was using your throat like his own personal fleshlight.

"Keep playing with that perfect little pussy of yours," Felix groaned as your head bobbed up and down. Your body quivered as you were nearly about to cum.

Felix watched as your face contorted and pulled his dick out of your mouth as you came all over your finger. Your moans were so sexy that Chan nearly got off at that very moment.

Felix aggressively grabbed your head and forced it down as he filled your throat with his cum. He noticed that Chan was getting close too and motioned him to move closer to you.

It wasn't long before Chan came all over your face, streams of white fluids ran down your neck as he finished.

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

❀ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @chlorinecake @nikisdubblchococake @addictedtohobi @parkjonseongswife @hynjinnn1 @hoyeonheeseung @cas104 @doseoflily @skzenhalove @neoteez01 @fics-jillian-liked @skzfelixlove @hyunjinswifeee @urfavberry @ihrtlix @emily1310universe-blog @tiddiesbruhposts @stay-berry @cherry8183 @hyunjinslovebott @ta3baee @skz-lover21 @skztalkersworld @hyunjinnie2000 @hyunjinswifeyy @luvyblossom @th3-g1rl-y0u-10v3 @bratty-tingz @hyunhoeee @xxstrayland @linovely @tinynana26 @skzblogworld @queenmea604 @yuknows @s-h-y-a @lixiebokie @straykids-is-love @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @yoongis-suga-bear

[zer0brainc3lls]

Dps yap session about how Todd’s relationship with Neil and Mr Keating (mainly Neil) grew his character because I’ll never stop thinking about it (spoilers for the book)

In the movie we all know Todd has issues with public speaking but in the book, it’s not just public speaking. It’s speaking to almost anyone in general. He stutters and pauses between sentences, even being unable to finish what he’s trying to say.

“I… would…. Prefer…. Rowing….. sir,” - Todd “rowing? Did he say rowing? But here it says you played soccer at Balincrest?” - Mr Nolan “I…. Did…. But….” - Todd

The dots are not exaggerated if you haven’t read the book. That’s how it’s shown. Now he doesn’t speak to everyone like this, mainly if he’s asked about an opinion or something of that nature, despite this he speaks softly almost all the time in the start of the book.

But as time goes on and he becomes closer to the dead poets + Mr Keating he opens up, he may not speak much in meetings and in classes doing anything publicly still scared him but he opens up more nonetheless.

Towards the halfway/end of the book he watches Neil find his own voice through acting, standing up to his father and watching Neil grow confident in himself he too becomes more confident. Even putting a lamp shade over his head just for fun, in front of people, being silly. (The lamp shade part is never talked about omg.)

When Neil is performing he even mouthes the lines to himself, even though he knows Neil needed no help. And at the end of the play TODD starts the standing ovation (I think? He’s definitely one of the first.) with a smile on his face, no embarrassment, no shame. Just happy for his best friend for standing up and finally being himself.

This was never shown in the movies but after the play he reaches out for Neil, trying to tell him how well he did and when Mr Perry’s car drives off he screams Neil’s name. In front of a crowd of people.

After the car scene they go back to the cave, not just the dead poets, Chris is there to (someone Todd barely knows!!!) and you know what Todd does? He expresses his anger. In full.

“Todd suddenly jumped up and pounded the walls with his fists. ‘Next time I see Neil's father I'm gonna smash him. I don't care what happens to me!’ ” after this, HE RECITES A POEM IN FRONT OF ALL HIS FRIENDS, MR KEATING AND CHRIS. (THIS WHOLE CAVE SCENE WAS SUCH A PIVOTAL MOMENT FOR TODDS CHARACTER IM SO MAD THEY FUCKING CUT IT)

Todd gained his own voice watching Neil and the dead poets gain theirs.

Then Neil died.

After Neil died? Todd lost his voice. Almost. He almost went back to stumbling his words, he almost went back to speaking softly. But whenever someone tried to speak ill of Neil or Mr Keating? HE WAS ON THEIR CASE.

“You don’t seriously think his father…” -knox “not with the gun! Damn it even if the bastard didn’t pull the trigger he..” - Todd

“ ‘Who else do you think, dumbo? The administration? Mr. Perry? Keating put us up to all this, didn't he? If it wasn't for him, Neil would be cozied up in his room right now, studying his chemistry and dreaming of being called doctor.’ - Cameron ‘That's not true! Mr. Keating tell Neil what to do. Neil loved acting.’ - Todd

And in the books he took a large punishment instead of signing the note to get Mr Keating fired and of course we cannot forget the desk scene at the end of the movie. Todd may never be the same as when Neil was alive and Mr Keating was still his teacher but he grew a confidence from them, even them no longer being apart of his life could take away the impact they had on him.

Idk if this yap session is a “yeah no shit” kind of thing but thanks for coming to my ted talk yall

[darlink-xoxo]

MESMERIZED BY YOU pt.2!

in which, the students of classes 1A and 1B take it upon themselves

and matchmake their fellow classmates..

GIF by ikludde

─ͥ─ͦ─ͮ─ͤ➼♥

inspired by this lovely asker<3

read pt.1 here to understand a bit better:]

Warnings: slight ooc todoroki, mutual confession, fluff, set up date, puppy love 🫶... and spelling mistakes

edits: so i took a break from writing and may have lost my touch, so i apologize in advance if this doesnt meet your expectations. I'm also sorry this is so late, i've been busy but i hope you enjoy reading.

❥ · ﾟ₊ you glanced around for a bit, sighing as you rested your head in your hand, "y'know, i almost think we got tricked."

shoto nodded numbly, "i also suspected that much."

glancing to the side, you started to recall how you ended up here. it was your classmates who'd invited you to a study session in a nearby cafe. dispite not finding any of your classmates, you did however, find your dual haired crush sat alone in one of the booths.

turns out, he was also invited by his classmates to a study session, at the same cafe. you joined him at the booth to make waiting less awkward, the both of you had been here for around 15 minutes, and it was clear no one else was coming.

you watched as he glanced at the small menu card, which sat against the sugar and salt packet rack. calmly taking it and sliding the other one to you, he slowly started to gloss over the one in his hand, before looking back at you when he noticed your stare.

"aren't you also going to order something? i mean, we might as well."

you blinked at the slight absurdity you found yourself in, letting out quiet huffs of laughter through your nose, "you seem awfully calm about this," finally starting to glance at the menu he slid to you.

he just shrugged, "well, now that i know i'm not allergic to you, i find our predicament rather nice."

that caused you to pause, uhm.. what??

you sat there for a moment, almost wondering if you'd heard him correctly. i mean, how else does one respond to their crush, claiming you had once made them feel sick???

was this his way of rejecting you? by associating you with the terrible after effects of allergies??

okay, well. let's calm down.

you allowed yourself to take a deep breath, staring at nothing in particular with slightly narrowed eyes. letting the more logical side of yourself take over, you didnt realize how tense your shoulders were until they relaxed. first of all, you were sure shoto was unaware of your feelings for him. your classmates might be nosey, but they weren't snitches.

so this may have been an overreaction on your part, but you weren't too sure if he had worded his response right. unless he was joking. wait, was he??

if that was the case, then that was actually pretty funny. that also meant you'd blown this way out of proportion, and nearly started to spiral down a rabbit hole because of it.

gosh, you sighed, why was it so hard to think coherent thoughts around this man?

the sound of someone clearing their throat caught your attention, "y/n? did you hear what i asked?"

being abruptly pulled back to the present, caused you to perk up in alarm. before slouching when you registered how embarrassing getting caught daydreaming was.

you shook your head, attempting to rid yourself of any shame, "no i didn't, sorry. could you repeat the question?"

he just looked at you, amusement flickering in his eyes as the ends of his lips seemed to quirk up, "i asked if you were ready to order?"

you squinted your eyes a bit, somehow seeing a flowery aura around him. he was cute when he smiled.

".. thank you?" his ghost of a smile melted into something bashful, turning away to hide his slightly flushed face from you, "i think you're pretty too."

widening your eyes at the sudden realization you'd said your thoughts out loud, his later comment didn't quite seem to reach your ears in your panic. you coughed a bit in your hand, pointing at one of the items on the menu, if only to give yourself a moment to properly dig yourself a hole and jump in.

"...this one, please..."

his eyes seemed to brighten as he nodded, picking up both menu cards and walking up to the counter. as he walked away, you softly rested your head on the table with a low thud. internally, you were screaming, crying, throwing up. but externally, you were still dying out of embarrassment.

why'd he have to be so cute.. why'd you have to say that out loud?? why'd he have to compliment you right back??? AND WHY IS YOUR HEART STILL RACING????

you didn't even notice when he returned, too busy with your inner turmoil. yet as you looked up at him, all rationality seemed to have evaporated away.

he placed the food on the table, nudging yours a bit closer to you, and started eating, blissfully unaware of the heartache he was currently causing you. he just, looked so peaceful.

you shook your head, sitting up straighter and was about to start eating as well, when one of the cafe workers walked over with a drink in their hand.

"hello!" they bowed to the both of you, "sorry, you walked away before we could give you this," they placed what you assumed was some type of milkshake in the middle of the table, "this is our new couples special, its a tester at the moment, so consider it free of charge!"

you almost choked on your food, "nono wait! i think you're mistaken but-"

"thank you for the drink."

the worker nodded with a smile, walking away with a bounce in their step. murmuring about how, 'it felt good witnessing true love in real time'.

your eyes shot to his, admiring the way he tilted his head at you, before regaining focus, "what was that?"

".. a milkshake?"

you deadpanned, "no, genius, about what you said?"

shoto only seemed to be more confused, "and what did i say?"

you lifted a hand to rub the bridge of your nose, "it's more of what you didn't say."

you sighed as you laced your fingers together, resting your chin on them, "about the 'couples special', why didnt you say anything?" you tried your best not to sound harsh, you didnt want him getting the idea you were opposed to wanting him.

shoto seemed to nod in understanding, lightly chuckling as if being mistaken for a couple was suddenly the best joke ever told.

"i think you've misunderstood my intentions about continuing our time here," he softly took one of your hands in his, holding it gently as he formulated his next set of words.

his determined gaze pinpointed to yours, faltering for a second as if he was pleading you not to turn away, "i like you y/n, maybe even too much. but although we were most likely set up by our classmates, i want to take this opportunity to start courting you."

his voice became more hesitant the longer you stayed quiet, "only if you'd allow me to, that is."

you stared at him, watching as his face slowly descended to deeper shades of red as time went on. his right hand beginning to rival the temperature of a simple candle.

you decided to spare him from waiting any moment longer, letting a big smile grace your warm face.

"i already have feelings for you, shoto," you softly brushed your lips against his hand, "so, could we skip the courting, and go straight to where i finally call you mine?"

the way his eyes instantly lit up, had your face burning up even more, "that's easy," he pressed a small kiss to the back of your hand, "for i was already yours."

the two of you beamed at each other, unable to wipe the love struck expressions you both shared.

later that night, shoto laid on his futon, his classmates blowing up his phone and asking about how the date went. a small smile full of adoration made its way to his face once more.

he typed out his response, before turning off his phone and setting it aside, ready to sleep after what he considered to be the best day of his life.

class 1A read the one word response, letting their own happiness flood through them at their success.

his reply?

perfect.

border credit to @saradika

special tag to @michikatsutsugikunigirly

[junedenim]

2012

beneath the boardwalk, part 10 (series masterlist)

why'd you only call me when you're high?

warnings: a whole lot of angst, temptation, nostalgia, and nothing

word count: 10.4k

Squished between two couch cushions watching Real Housewives, I got a call from Alex. "Did I wake you?" He questioned. It was late or early depending on who you asked. I had been woken up from a cold I was suffering from. He had never gone to bed.

"No, no, I'm just sitting around, suffocating," I complained. His voice was rough, but not thick with phlegm like mine. He chuckled in a rhythmic format, beat after beat. He sounded like he was sinking into himself, his flesh turning to goo. I heard his lips smack together as if he was chewing on a piece of hay. I coughed, the harshness reaching him miles and miles away. "You alright?"

"Yeah." I think he was chewing gum. "Just got home."

I hummed with understanding. "Did you have a nice night?"

He made a noise of indifference. "How long you been sick?"

"Two days now and it's not getting any better." I sniffled and stuffed a tissue up my nostril, thankful that I lived alone. "Think I caught it at a New Year's Party. I'm worried I have mono."

"Why? You've been kissing a bunch of people?" His words hung in the middle of us. Both of us moving on from one another had been unspoken. We were still on a break for all intents and purposes, even if he was with Arielle. Another thing we never talked about. 

I gave the best laugh I could do without coughing. "It's supposed to be good luck. I also ate 12 grapes and banged bread against the wall."

"Did you really?" He amusingly asked.

"No, well, not the bread part." I sighed. "Now, I'm just sitting on the couch watching shitty reruns. I can't fall back asleep."

"Neither can I," he said.

I hesitated and curled up under my blanket. "Is that why you called me at 4 in the morning?" I said it with a laugh to ease any tensions that may arise.

"It's only 1 here."

"Right. I forgot about the time difference." It didn't seem right for him to be so far away permanently. None of this seemed like the correct order of things. It was a misalignment but there could be no corrective measure.

"Yeah, I kind of did too." There was a pause like he was thinking things over. Like he might have had something to say but now he couldn't find it. "I'll let you go then." In more ways than one.

*

Alex was a cloud. He was away on tour, far away and out of reach. We talked less but not intentionally. We both just got really busy and we didn't need each other for that constant contact anymore. I was plummeting toward the wildest time of my life and he was up to his usual unable-to-contact schedule. Somewhere in Australia first then opening for The Black Keys. Plus, he had Arielle.

The new girlfriend thing didn't bug me much, at least, not in the form of jealousy. It was a strange thing. I hadn't fully adjusted to the idea but it was much easier when he was nowhere near my life. If it had happened when we were younger, I think I would've punished myself for it, but I had grown into a far lighter figure who understood not everyone was trying to make a mark against me. Alex was living his own life, which for the past few years had been dedicated to one person. It was "seeing what else was out there."

I was alone for the most part. I saw Jackson nearly every day, whether for work or leisure, but I was getting used to being alone for long grasps of time. I spent time writing in my notebook like the old days. A therapy session that I locked away in a drawer. I rotted in my room for days. I watched all of The Sopranos, practiced the splits, and thought about getting a cat. It was winter and a very boring time.

But around the end of January, I did my first interview. It was small and nothing huge, but it was talking about my work in-depth for the first time with a stranger. I pretended I was talking to Alex.

Alex and I didn't stop talking completely. I called him on his birthday, briefly, and we had a long chat toward the end of January where we caught up with one another. Neither of us had much to tell. He had been touring. I had been crawling around New York doing next to nothing, besides book matters and talking about my "marketability."

Alex laughed at this. "Yeah, they tend to do that. Try to whittle you down to one trait."

"It's making me feel insecure." I laughed at it but it felt small inside me, burning its way out.

Alex hummed in agreement. "Well, at least you're not a pimple-ridden kid doing it."

It wasn't something he talked about much. He hated people giving him attention, yet he was in a career that commanded eyes to be focused on him. It was one of our many skimmed-over conversations. In some ways, it made me feel like I didn't know Alex. We both hid parts of ourselves from one another and knew that the other did this. That burning curiosity we used to have probably went out once we started to live with one another. You know someone for long enough that it begins to feel like you know every inch of them. I slept with him night after night but I wondered if I ever knew what was ticking on in his head before he fell asleep. What was he thinking when he sat outside with a closed notebook? Why did he turn away?

I didn't even know why I turned away. I wrote repeatedly in my notebook, questioning why I couldn't make it work with Alex. I resisted jumping into a relationship because of that. If I couldn't make it work with Alex then it probably wouldn't work with anyone, especially during that portion of my life. I didn't know what it meant to be alone, like really alone.

I deflected a lot. I even deflected earlier in this book. I was devastated by the loss of Alex and I don't think it hit me until much later because I always had an anvil weighing on the back of my head telling me it wasn't over. Arielle complicated those ideals and I think for a while I was on my back unable to regain upright status. I was flailing.

That's why I paused. When 2012 hit, I was forced into a corner. I felt distant from who I was but still so far away from who I was becoming. I felt like I was the roots of the tree that had been cut down. I was left to be a stump.

One night, over a joint, I told Jackson I didn't feel British. Jackson, a Californian boy through and through, did not understand this. He laughed from the high while the smoke just made me more disoriented. He told me that I was "perfectly British." To me, that sounded like some marketing strategy. That's what the book would be marketed as—a British girl coming to America; her cold skin meeting the California sun. It made me hate the book. Or I hated myself, the lines were blurring.

I thought I had grown away from forms of jealousy. I have just previously insisted to you that I experienced no feelings of envy toward Arielle...but I did. It was ignored and then it couldn't be. The "R U Mine?" music video featured Arielle and a "new" Alex. I'm not a fan of the insinuation Alex suddenly changed after we broke up, besides his hair and fresh Sheffield tattoo, I would come to know Alex was exactly the same. Alex never quite changes. He's always been suave. It's hard to take a 20-year-old as seriously as a 25-year-old, especially when he is still pimple-ridden.

I found my jealousy toward Arielle in regard to "R U Mine?" was the same as when Alex showed me "Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts" because, honestly, since then Alex's only explicit romantic muse (the word makes me want to barf, but that's what I was) was me. It's the weird thing of being with a writer, especially with personal subjects. It's beautiful when it's for you but then you realize that it was never really for you. It was about you. Alex didn't write a song to make me feel loved. He wrote a song because he liked writing songs.

Unknowingly, I always felt that. It's why I didn't swoon every time I heard "Mardy Bum." I loved it as a song but it didn't feel like a love letter. I felt Alex's love in far different ways. As the years went on, I would find love letters in songs, but at the center, I found his love in crevices: a note from college, a smoke outside a pub, a cooked meal, folded laundry—god, I sound old.

But his love wasn't restricted to those songs. Just as my love isn't restricted to this tome. This is a love letter in pieces for Alex but it's also for my youth. I found around this time, I began to reflect on those early years. Nearly 10 years out from 2003, I became a preservationist. I jotted down my memory of my first conversation with Alex. I tucked it away in my drawer, no use for it yet.

*

Alex called me on my birthday. He wasn't too far away, somewhere between Portland and Boston on a bus. It was late with only an hour left to my birthday, which I had spent drinking with friends. It was a rather simple birthday. It could've been just another night, minus the cake (red velvet with frosted flowers on top of it) that Fennel and Kaka purchased for me.

Alex texted me in the morning. Something akin to Hey. Happy birthday. Al.

It was formal and if it didn't make me laugh so much I think I'd be hurt by it. But Alex always texted like that as if he was penning a letter. The letter was awfully short but it was sent at 4 AM, which made me believe he either had no sleep or had just woken up.

I was expecting more and I got more. When I was drunk.

"Hi," I said, shoving the phone to my ear as a subway train came roaring by.

He chuckled, hearing the noise. "Hi." He waited for it to pass fully before continuing, "Happy birthday."

"Thank you."

"Did you spend it good?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty drunk."

"Alright, then, I won't keep you long."

"No," I insisted. "Stay on the phone with me." I was pleading. I didn't want to let go of him. "At least, until I'm home." I wasn't far away but I lied and acted like I was further away, keeping him on the line with me, even as we lost connection at various times.

"Sorry I didn't get you anything," he said halfway through the subway ride.

"I didn't get you anything,” I reminded him.

"Yeah. Feels weird."

We hummed in silence because we both knew how abnormal this was. We weren't friends. Alex and I were never friends. Nothing ever went away or could ever go away. We were struggling to redefine what we were. We could never disentangle from one another. It pulled us back toward one another, even when we shouldn't have.

"I was going to get you that, uh, milkshake maker so you wouldn't have to pay extra at Morgenstern's for one." I didn't know a person could get so emotional over a milkshake maker that they would feel like crying on the F train. I might be the only person ever.

It was such a stupid gift. I would probably get two uses out of the machine before it broke and it wouldn't be as good as Morgenstern's makes theirs and it would go to waste. Still, I can imagine if he did get it for me. How after I unwrapped it we would go to Morgenstern's and get a pint of ice cream and Alex would make me a milkshake. One just for me. If I was feeling generous enough, we'd share the straw.

None of this would have happened, even if we were together. He'd still be in between Portland and Boston and I'd still be riding the F, wishing he was with me. It was comforting that maybe I had done the right thing, even if it felt so hard.

"Well, you can get it for me for Christmas."

He laughed and said, "Okay."

*

Black leather loafers with black wool flannel trousers. A white poplin shirt, two buttons loose at the top and at the bottom. I had a black corduroy jacket that Jackson held for me. I felt like I was dressing up in my mother's clothes. I was doing book press. It was an unfitting experience but I held the hardcover book in my hand. It felt unnatural but I liked my authour's photo.

By that point, I was so far removed from the contents of the book. I started to second-guess it even coming out. It felt like my diary, even if it was evasive at times and cut out the personal from that time (Alex is not mentioned once, not even as the person I moved to LA for). Still, it was exposing, but it was real now and it was sitting in my hand.

Alex came to town a week later, opening for The Black Keys. I didn't see the show—things were getting too busy by that point. I asked Alex if we could meet for a quick lunch and he accepted.

We met at Westville, a cute restaurant, but by no means romantic. I felt a need for that to be clear. I worried about Arielle worrying that I was trying to "steal" Alex or whatever that meant. I don't think she ever did. After all, she had the guy and I was resigned with no longer having the guy. It wasn't the bitch fight it has been imagined to be.

I waited for Alex outside the restaurant, smoking a cigarette to achieve my all-time high of cigarettes per day (this was not a good year for my lungs). I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I wanted to look cool but relaxed. I wore the previously mentioned black loafers to make it look like I didn't roll out of bed and throw some jeans on.

Alex wore the same thing: jeans, T-shirt, loafers...and a leather jacket. It was a hotter March day when spring was beginning to peek through and relieve the bitterness of winter. He was across the street stuck at a streetlight and I waved to him and he waved back. Then, we just stared at each other, waiting for the light to turn green.

He crossed, said hi, and hugged me. Every move was made with slight awkwardness. We hadn't been alone together since he moved out. "Have you been waiting long?" He asked.

I shook my head. "Got here early, just for a smoke. Do you want to go in now?"

"Yeah. Yeah." He bobbed his head.

I put my cigarette out and he followed me into the restaurant. "Your hair is back to normal." My natural brown. It was better for me to not play pretend when promoting a book about my own life.

"Yours isn't," I commented. It came off snarkier than I wanted it to.

He shrugged and smiled to ease the thick fat of awkwardness. "Yeah, well, you know." He didn't say it but this was the new normal for him, which was fine, but it was different from what I knew. When I dreamed about him or pictured him, it was still with a curling mop top or, you know, just the mop if I was dreaming of '09.

"Tattoo too," I added.

"Yeah."

"You're a changed man."

"Yeah."

Our heads ducked down and we stared at the menus in silence. It was a challenge of who would speak first—seriously speak, not those little comments over what looks good.

After we ordered, I said, "Sorry I'm not able to go tonight."

He waved me off. "You've already been to too many shows. Don't worry."

"Well, I like going. It feels weird not to go."

"Yeah." Somewhere in that word, I knew what he meant. It had been years since Alex had the ability to spot people in the crowd, but he told me once that there was a comfort in knowing I was somewhere in there, that even if he messed up, there would always be someone there at the end of it all. I wonder if he was still getting used to someone else being at the end of it all.

He sipped his water to cut off the look on his face. I decided to cut to the fat of it. "I, uh, have something to give you."

"Why do I feel like it's something bad?" He cracked a laugh, lifting the air in the room.

I picked up my bag. "I hope not."

I dug through my things slowly. It was held in my hands but I still had to catch my breath before I lifted it out. I saw a squint on his face as he tried to imagine what it was. I passed it across the table and his hands took it. That is when it all started to feel real; seeing his eyes land on it, his hands run down its spine with him smiling. "It's a first edition," I joked.

He raised an eyebrow, flipping it open. "Is it signed?" I laughed. I'm not sure what made me happier: him holding my book or joking around with him again. He opened the other end of the book. "Good author photo."

"I'm quite happy with it." Somewhere in that bittersweetness, I did feel content. It was never how I imagined him holding my first book. Parts of me were swallowed with sorrow that I would never experience this in the way I wanted—a desperate romantic lovemaking all-consuming kind of way—but there were small parts in me that were happy that we could still have this. I don't know if we kept dragging things out this would have been as joyous. That this would have felt like closure.

Alex looked up, meeting my eyes. A small smile played on his lips. The kind that can't be faked in any way. It was real and from the hurt. It was that pride he always had in me. The pride that kept me going for far longer than I'd ever imagined. I wrote the book, but he made the book. I never would've written anything close to it without him. I'd probably be stuck fucking Robert in London if it wasn't for him. It was my reassurance to him that he didn't have to make up for the sudden move to LA as he constantly tried to do. He wasn't in the book, but he was the book. It's why I dedicated it to him. It's why on the last page of his edition of the book I wrote: Don't make fun of me, Al. Thank you for this. I hope you know why. Love, Jane C.

I questioned the "love" part. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable but it would have been far more awkward to write something like "sincerely." I wasn't one for lying, especially about my love for Alex. It was something layered. It didn't rest in that romantic love. He wasn't just my boyfriend and he wasn't just my best friend. It's hard for a writer to find the word. It's nudged somewhere in this book. In all these little words.

"I wanted you to be the first to have it," I said. "Well, one of the first. Wanted to see the look on your face."

He looked back down at the book. Mild disbelief spread across his face as he looked back and forth between the book and me. "Thanks." He wasn't sure what else to say. He rolled everything around and looked as if he was choking on the bone of a chicken.

"It's been a little weird these past few months," I said while picking at my fingernails, an assured sign to Alex that I was referring to us. "I don't want it to feel weird. So, don't cry or anything," I joked.

He chuckled, dislodging the lump. He flipped the book over one more time before placing it on the table. "I'll try not to. I knew you could do it." He stared right at me, emphasizing every little syllable. The awkwardness faded from him and he leaned onto the table. His smile was small but bright. I could find a million different meanings in it, each meaning just as much.

"I know you did. You always did," I told him. "I had this dream last night. It was weird and blurry but we were driving around Sheffield or some weird ghost thing was driving us. It's hard to describe. I don't know. I think it was a sign or something. I'm not sure of what but just those early days of us talking. That's when I really started to write. I suppose my mind was thinking about this lunch and conjured up some old memories."

He smiled at me the whole time, eyes never leaving me, even when I glanced away. "Well, I had a dream that I was one of the animals left off of Noah's Ark, so, you tell me what that means."

I told him it had something to do with his fear of being left behind and he rolled his eyes and said I was trying to be Freud. Lunch came and we ate and laughed and agreed to split the check. He told me he would read the whole book tonight if he could. We hugged goodbye and he whispered in my ear, "I'll send you a proper review."

A few days later, Alex emailed me. It was long. Very long and detailed like he had taken a note on every page. He pulled the sentences he liked the most out, which turned out to be about half the book. I would later write back and ask what that meant for the other half of the book. He said they were left off Noah's Ark too. Continuing his initial email, Alex wrote at the bottom:

You did it. I hope you feel that too. Thank you, Al.

*

I had a book tour. A minimal one since there wasn't the highest of expectations and I didn't want to go to Omaha, Nebraska. So, there was Boston, New York, Atlanta, Chicago, Houston, and Los Angeles. I hated the whole thing. I always wanted to go to these places but I wasn't really going to these places. We lingered in Chicago at the end of July, but it was the equivalent of touring with Alex, except this time I was Alex.

I've never enjoyed talking about my work either but it was nice that people thought it was nice. But that part still felt awkward to me too. Like, people actually read this??? It eased up as it went along. It was a short tour anyway. I wasn't going to Tokyo or anything.

I thought about myself a lot. It was a little lonely but I had adapted to that. Jackson was my only company on the road and it was easy for us to get sick of one another. We had both grown bored with one another, both slightly exhausted from these months so closely intertwined. I thought about Al, often. I thought about myself, often.

Could it be possible that I did everything right? No. I never thought that but I didn't think I did everything wrong. I had cracks in the surface of me and guts that spilled out. I said everything with my pen but nothing with my lips. I hid myself under the disguise of a freshly lonesome girl who knew the only means to move on was to forget. But I didn't forget anything, only myself, just for a little. Pieces of me dropped on the side of the highway. We drove for days and I found no meaning in it, only wondering did he feel like this all the time? How did he bear this loss of self?

I asked myself questions and never got any answers. I felt everything but there was never any meaning in it. There were closed-off vessels, no means to transport blood or oxygen, yet, I was still moving. I suppose that was the only thing left to cling to. I still had the memory of it and those never made me sad. I experienced it. How fortunate was I to be cracked open and exposed to this impenetrable love? I still felt it. We were both on the end of the same wire. It was bent and twisted, knots made to keep strong but disrupt transmission. No love lost. Just changed. I know good comes from change. I didn't feel the goodness but I could taste it coming. So much else was happening. I would hate myself forever for wasting those precious few days of enjoyment in place of a relationship that didn't need nourishment anymore. It was about me. I wanted it to be about me for so long and it finally was. Don't waste it.

The mini-tour ended in LA at the start of August. Summer had whipped me in the face so hard I forgot the season even existed, until I was stuck in the sweaty, SoCal heat, dying for a drop of water. The first night—the day before the Q&A and book signing—Jackson and I got dinner and drinks with Opal.

It was nice to let loose after feeling so pinned up for most of the summer. The liquor soothed my sunburnt skin and I decided the tour as a whole wasn't too bad—I was about 3 drinks in at this point. Then, after another drink, I texted Alex telling him I was in town. The last we chatted was a week or so before when the band opened for the London Olympics. I watched it later on YouTube and told him he did a bang-up job. He told me he nearly shat himself.

Alex had returned to LA since. The city had become his permanent home since the tour had ended. He bought a house out here and everyone in the band, for the most part, had relocated too. So, in my drunken state, I told him I was there and we should hang before I went back to New York.

When I woke up, it was an embarrassing text of I'm in LA, AL. Even in my drunken state, I wrote with proper grammar. Alex wrote back, Come on over. This was in the early hours of the day so he must have been up by some similar means too.

The following night, I panicked. I wondered if this is what single people felt like all the time. Prior to this, I had never faced intimidation when hanging out with Alex, except maybe when I was 17 and that type of thing could be labelled as teenage anxiety. But, no, this was a thing that would plague me the rest of my dating life and I wasn't even going on a date with him. Alex is the only "ex" I had stayed in contact with up to that point. Most of my friends didn't do this type of thing either, at least not Opal who lived by the mentality that once people were gone they were gone forever.

Half my anxiety came from the limited wardrobe out of my suitcase but considering it was just dinner and a dinner that would be had with the other bandmates and the girlfriends, there should've been no pressure. I wouldn't have told you this at the time, I barely want to write it down now, but the nerves I felt weren’t because of Alex, they were because of Arielle. Part of me wanted to be conceived as a non-threat. I was over those days. The other part of me—the stronger part—wanted her to be jealous of me and question why Alex and I ever broke up. I wasn't fully-formed yet. 

The two sides fought and then I just settled on jeans and a tank top because it was boiling outside and I was having drinks at Al's place, not the Windsors. Luckily, I showed up after Jamie and Katie so I thought of using Katie as a shield. I didn't accept Katie and Arielle to be talking though. The word traitor crossed through my brain and then I thought I must be regressing to my college days when Rosie and Will would feel each other up in front of me. Arielle was nice and I was probably an anxious bitch.

So, I hugged both of them as Alex came into the living room. He was staggering, dressed casually beside his uniform slicked hair. "Hey there," he greeted. He was calm, not an awkward bone in his body. He knew he had the upper hand. We were on his home turf with his hot girlfriend and I was a single mess who had been on plane after plane and stunk of cigarettes.

The room was hot with sweat dripping off every surface it seemed. The air conditioner was running but the flaming air came rushing in with the swing of the front door as Matt and Breana entered. The room became distracted by them, both looking darling. I hugged each of them, distracting myself in their grasp.

Arielle had lit candles for the dining table. It was the only thing formal about the informal event. The house itself was rather bare. Alex never carried much, I was always the one with the shit. 

Alex tapped my arm. "You want a drink?"

"What do you have?" I asked.

He waved his arm and I followed him to the kitchen, isolating ourselves. "Beer, wine, tequila, vodka, all the fixings. I can make you something if you'd like. Margarita?"

"Anything non-alcoholic?" Alcohol would ease my nerves but it would lead to my loud mouth and I couldn't afford that tonight.

He looked bewildered. "Who are you?" He joked.

We kept our distance. I pushed my hair behind my shoulder. "Got real drunk with Opal and Jackson last night. Figured I'd keep it clean. At least for now."

"Right then. Iced tea?"

He knew me well. I laughed at his smile and agreed to this. I moved closer to the refrigerator to just feel the cold air on my skin. He poured the glass, leaving the door open for me. I chugged the coldness like it was the elixir of life. It felt like my lungs re-inflated when the liquid dispersed and his eyes looked at mine again, so clearly over that fogged-up glass. Wet brown eyes into my baby blues and it felt like he might reach out and snatch them out of my eyes and keep them for himself. He always liked them. He has a thing for blue eyes.

We talked around the dining table, eating a mix of something Arielle had cooked and pizza. I had the pizza. Everyone talked loosely about things I had no knowledge of. Jokes about LA and all these people I had no concept of. I suppose if they had come to New York it would have been similar, except they all shared this with one another.

The sweet Breana turned the attention onto me, which partially made me shrink and revel in the joy of being included. "Oh, Jane, I loved the book!" Everyone chanted in similar sentiments all at once.

I laughed and took a bite of my pizza crust. "You didn't all read it," I laughed.

"I read parts of it," Jamie said. They were all sweet but I'm unsure how often any of them even had the chance to pick up a book, let alone their best friend's ex-girlfriend. Because that's what I was now. That was my title.

Alex looked at me. I could hear my mother's words ringing through his lips so I smiled and said, "Thank you."

"Disappointed I wasn't in it more," Matt said. "You know if it wasn't for me the book would've never been made." The long story of it has made that true but I can't give Matt credit for everything, it might go to his head too much.

"How's that?" Arielle asked. Everything shifted after that. We could all tell that she had been the wrong one to ask that question. Whether she was clueless and curious or was trying to make a dig at Alex, I wasn't sure, but I felt like an imposition being there. I didn't feel like an out-of-town friend. I felt like an ex-girlfriend.

Nobody spoke so I spoke. "Matt introduced me and Alex." I sipped my drink to wash down any other awkwardness.

Everyone seemed awkward other than Arielle. She quickly nodded and said, "Oh, yeah, Al told me that." I wondered why everyone else was so stiff when Arielle didn't seem to have much of a problem with it. Why should she when she looked like that?

I felt frumpy and had to pee badly from all the iced tea I had drank but I was too scared to go to the bathroom and see her things mixed with Alex's things. I could leave there with ambiguity and the belief that Alex didn't move on so quickly and I was stuck being alone.

"That was our first gig," Matt said. He seemed to relax, always the person to slice through any amount of tension. "Almost 10 years ago now."

"What was it like?" Arielle asked.

"Awful," Alex said. His eyes pointed toward me. "Right?"

"I don't know. I never reviewed it, remember?" He laughed and it felt inappropriate to display this inside language in front of everyone. "It feels weird that I'm the only one here who watched it." Even if that had been the case for many years, it had been a while since we all gathered around in a circle and talked about those days.

"I wasn't even there," Nick remarked. The room buckled with chuckles.

I laid my forehead against the palm of my hand resting against the table. "God," I said, "I spent that whole show with Will’s hand on my ass and Joanie screaming in my ear."

"Oh, god, Joanie," Matt muttered.

"Oh, god, Will," Jamie cracked.

"She got married last month," I told them. She had invited me but I was in the middle of the tour. We talked about once a year and everything was always nice. The only time I would've had the chance of running into her was when Alex and I visited Sheffield and that obviously wasn't happening anymore.

"Bless that man's heart," Matt quipped.

I shook my head. "No, she seems to have settled down in the last few years. I guess we all did. Seems so long ago."

"It was," Alex said. "We're getting old, Janie." His silence punctured the air. My lungs felt like they were deflating. He poured himself another glass.

Things grew looser and looser. They rattled off stories of LA, I rattled off stories from the road. Arielle excused herself to bed, citing an early morning. Her bed was upstairs.

Each couple left one by one until Alex and I awkwardly remained. I figured then I should leave. He walked me to the door with a freshly poured glass in his hand. "Hope I didn't keep you up too late," I said because I wasn't sure what else to say. It reminded me of what my parents said to each other after a fight. It was the one thing they clung to in order to keep their marriage somehow working.

He shook his head and sipped. "No, no. It's fine. You're always good company."

I shrugged. The whole thing kind of felt awkward, at least with him. I could laugh with Matt and throw my arm around Katie, even hug Arielle good night, but whenever my eyes landed on Alex, I tensed up so tightly I knew I'd be sore the next day. "If you're ever in New York or whatever."

He nodded and smiled. He would be visiting his old apartment. I wondered how that would make him feel. Was it the same when I walked into his house and noticed different shoes by the door than mine? Would the emptiness of his presence leave him uneasy? "I'd like that," Alex said.

"Thanks for having me." We reached the door and the end of the night but we stayed awkwardly staring at each other.

"Course. Text me when you're back at the hotel and safe and all that." He was drunk, rambling with an incapability of holding his tongue.

I smiled. "I will."

I didn't know whether to hug him or not. He leaned forward and kissed me. It wasn't affectionate. It was a peck. The kind my mother used to give me when left for school in the morning. Of course, she was my mother and I was 7 and Alex was drunk and I was, well, awkward. 

I said, "Night," and turned away. We never talked about it because there was nothing to talk about. It very well could have been a kiss on the cheek just like I gave Katie and Breana before they left. Of course, that was Katie and Breana and this was Alex—no longer mine.

*

Rain pattered against the window. Jackson and I returned to New York a week prior and we were now sitting in my apartment, drinking, and about to call Opal to join us. I felt dizzy and Jackson looked sleepy. It had been a long month.

"So," he said, "what's next?"

I finished off my glass. "What do you mean?" The year felt empty as the cold was beginning to creep into my summer warmth. 2012 was a bumpy year where so much yet so little happened. I was growing sick of my apartment because no matter how rid it was of Alex, he still had a whole life with me here. When I returned to it after the book tour, I was ready to move on.

Jackson placed his arm on the back of the couch. The tips of his fingers softly poked at my shoulder. "Now it's time to think about the next book."

I tossed my head back with a groan. "Gimme a break."

He chuckled and placed his empty glass on the end table. "No rush. For now."

I sat up straight, finishing off my glass, and growing more and more serious every day. "Thanks for doing this for me, Jackson."

He nodded. "My pleasure."

"I feel kind of empty," I confessed.

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I didn't feel like explaining it. I was growing tired of doing that with people. My stomach ached and I pushed Alex out of my mind. I felt that I had sacrificed our relationship for this success, even if it wasn't true. I thought I would have been over it by that time of year. It had been over a year. But it still felt so unnatural for him to feel so far removed from my life. Every word we spoke felt tinged with sadness and I didn't want it to feel that way. I wanted to move on.

I kissed Jackson. He kissed back. We never called Opal.

*

Jackson and I started dating in a casual way. We were exclusive to one another and treated each other as a boyfriend and girlfriend would but I suppose my association with dating was always a far deeper connection. I wasn't alone in this. Jackson had long-term girlfriends prior to me. He was older than me, not by some outrageous amount. He was born in 1979, seven years older, but I was 26 and 33 didn't feel so far off.

Opal loved it. She felt like the ultimate matchmaker and wanted to be both the maid of honor and the best man. My New York crew loved him. Fennel and Kaka found him to be rich in conversation. He liked going out more than Alex but then again most people liked going out more than Alex. Except more and more it seemed Alex enjoyed the going out part. (I was taken but I was still a snooping ex-girlfriend).

I didn't tell Alex. It felt awkward to call him up and tell him I got a new boyfriend. I decided to tell him when I saw him again, which didn't come up. He was in Los Angeles. I was in New York. We didn't talk very often either. I think I called him once in October because I couldn't remember the name of a restaurant we went to (he didn't remember either). 

Other than that, there wasn't much reason to talk. We had completely separate lives. But I was aware of what he was up to. I wasn't cyber-stalking him much anymore (only on nights when I was wildly intoxicated). I talked to Katie occasionally and texted Breana from time to time. Things about Alex would slip through the cracks and get to me but the majority of it was just that they were recording their new album.

We had both moved on. Or we were both pretending we did. At least I was pretending, in some form. I thought about him all the time. I didn't feel like a day went by when I didn't think about him. It wasn't in some romantic longing way. I had shared a life with him from such a young age and to be forced apart from it felt unnatural. There were so many jokes and stories that went untold because no one would get it but him.

When I went back home for the holidays, I confided this to my mother. I don't know why, maybe because of what she had told me so many years ago in Florida. I don't know if my mother ever actually liked Alex so I figured if she said awful things about him it would make me feel better. Of course, she didn't.

"It goes away," she said. "One day, you wake up and you're numb to it. You just get numb to it in the end, Jane. All those people you hated and loved turn to nothing. Even the ones you still want to love. You'll be thankful for it when the day comes that you don't feel anything anymore."

I frowned and my mother left me on the couch to fetch another bottle of wine. In retrospect, my mother was suffering from mental illness, but I was oblivious to that because I had grown oblivious to most of my mother's behavior. I just didn't want to engage with it anymore. Maybe part of me was numb toward her.

I didn't want to feel nothing. I couldn't imagine not feeling anything for Alex, even if we remained friends for the rest of our lives. I had tethered so much sentimentality toward him, he might as well have been a knick-knack on my shelf. Letting go of him would be letting go of an entire part of myself. I was content if that part only came out once a year when I saw him but I couldn't let go of it forever.

*

Joanie was having a baby. She likely got pregnant on her honeymoon. Someone my age having a child felt unnatural. I pictured Joanie being a teen mum, not a 26-year-old pregnant woman. She invited me to the baby shower taking place right after Christmas. It was ideal timing since all her closest friends would be in town or, like me, the country.

I debated going but decided that since I missed the wedding the least I could do was go to the baby shower. So, I drove the Beetle up to Wakefield. I figured it would be a mini-reunion. The only one I had seen as of late was Claire, who lived in Bristol now, and I hadn't seen since last winter.

We drove up together and listened to Radio 2 on full blast the whole way. I don't think I had ever felt more like a teenager even when I was a teenager. Claire continued her streak of always being a comfort for me. While other friends might be wedding and birthing, Claire had just ended her two-year-long relationship and gagged in her mouth at the thought of being a mother one day. 

It made me miss England so desperately. I forgot how much I ached to drive, which I hadn't done in years. The closest I had gotten to a car was the one taxi ride home drunk at 4 AM. And to drive on the left side of the road! I hadn't heard someone speak in a British accent since the dinner at Alex's. It eased my ears and made me wonder why I ever left, which just led to me thinking about Alex again.

Claire said, "I hate Alex, which sucks 'cause I like Alex." In a way, it summed up how conflicted I felt. Hate is a strong word but I was resentful for how everything went down. Then again, I probably didn't have much of a right.

Joanie's house was straight out of a picture book. I didn't know houses like that even existed in Wakefield. It wasn't fancy but at the sight of it, you'd call it a home. She had a little garden in the front that she said her husband grew herbs in that she used for cooking. It made Claire and I roll our eyes but we both desperately wanted that kind of companionship. If I ever would learn how to cook or grow plants, maybe that could be my life. I refused to do either, but it was a nice thought.

I bought Joanie—or Joanie's baby—these cozy fleece booties because that's what New York Magazine said to get. I never bought anything for a baby before (I got away with it two years ago during Harper's unmentioned pregnancy of my first nephew, Benjamin, by having my mother buy a gift for me) so I had no clue what to get. I bought Joanie this nice set of body washes that were her favourite when we were 17 with the hope that they either still were or she would feel nostalgic over them.

Claire and I ate a slice of cake and watched Joanie open her presents. Halfway through we turned to each other and decided we were going to go out drinking after. I love Joanie but oohing and awing over baby gifts with a bunch of women I barely knew got old quickly, especially incredibly sober and in the middle of the winter blues. The cake was good though.

The shower ended around 4 and while I was down to get hammered that early, Claire wanted to go out to lunch first. We ended up meeting up with AB at a pub. I hadn't seen AB since 2006 and I nearly cried at the sight of him all grown up. Claire and AB had broken up long ago but stayed in touch as good friends and if they could do it—two incredibly mature people—maybe Alex and I could too. 

AB's girlfriend of two years (and future wife), Shay, joined us as well. It almost made me barf how gorgeous they were together and I was shocked Claire wasn't fuming more over how beautiful Shay was. I was almost fuming over how beautiful Shay was!

AB sipped on a beer, which I don't think I had ever witnessed. He shared it was Shay and I swallowed down my drink at the painful thought that Alex and I once did things like that. I was such a sad sack. I thought about calling Jackson. Thank god I didn't.

We left the pub, hugging AB and Shay goodbye next to the Beetle. Claire and I were going to go back to the hotel to change out of our baby shower clothes and "hit the town.”

We waved goodbye to the couple and that's when I saw Alex with his mum. I turned my back to him and grabbed Claire's arm. "I think I'm gonna vomit."

She looked at me completely puzzled. "What? Why?"

I was so freaked out by the sight of him. I think the unexpected nature of it threw me off-balanced. I had never been that unnerved by the sight of him. My head felt like my brain was about to burst out of my ears. "Get in the car," I harshly muttered to her.

She was still unaware but she raced around the side of the car to get into the passenger seat. We bolted out of there before he crossed the street.

*

It was midnight when I called him. I was definitely drunk, but not wasted, standing outside a club smoking while Claire chatted up with some guy inside. I was freezing and felt so childish for doing it, even in the moment, but I wanted to see him. It shouldn't feel right that I was here and he wasn't.

"Hello." His voice was clear so he hadn't been sleeping. I wonder if he was in bed (with Arielle).

I swallowed whatever dignity I had left and let the rest loose. "Hey. I'm in Wakefield for Joanie's baby shower 'cause apparently we're old enough to have children now and now I'm out with Claire at a club. We drove up together from Bath, well, Bristol for her, Bath for me, but you know that. Jesus. I saw you earlier today and raced into my car because I was so scared by the sight of you, which made me realize I'm not as mature as I thought I was. And it was just after we went to lunch with AB and Shay and Claire and AB still get along like they didn't have this romantic relationship and I know that we get along too but I raced to my car and nearly shit myself. Now, I'm outside a club smoking in the middle of winter because I apparently regress back to teenage tendencies when I'm in Yorkshire or maybe just England in general. Anyway, I'm drunk and I'm thinking this was stupid and it probably is but I know you're probably laughing at me right now but I'm freezing my ass off and I can't figure out how to get back inside the club and Claire isn't answering her phone, which means she's probably shagging someone or something and I wouldn't want to interrupt that, you know, and I probably should just get a cab back to the hotel but I called you for some reason. Well, not for some reason because I'm drunk. Okay, now you talk."

I was out of breath and sure I had just lost my mind. I need another shot of tequila. I felt I was growing too sober to face the repercussions of this. I took a drag of my cigarette and listened to his breathing on the other end of the line.

I could hear his smile. I still had a knack for that kind of thing. "I saw you too, you know."

I slapped my forehead and thought about slamming my head into the brick wall until it broke my skull and my brain gushed out. "Did it look like we were being held at gunpoint?"

He chuckled lowly. "A little. But I must've looked like someone pointed a gun at me. I'd recognize that car anywhere, Janie."

I didn't know what to say. My car was such a sensitive topic for both of us. It was the cornerstone (ha) of our relationship, especially for the car to be returned to its rightful county. I thought I'd feel weird driving it but everything felt right like it was a complete homecoming. Like nature had found its way and every piece fell perfectly into the puzzle.

"I thought I would be grown up by now," I confessed.

He suppressed a laugh. "I like you this way. Makes me feel less alone."

"How so?"

He waited, not wanting to fully let the truth go but it was me he was talking to. There wasn't much point in lying. "I've called you in various states of intoxication too."

"Not after running to your car," I pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure I'll do it one of these days." It was a silence but a vibration rang across the line to one another. Call it a vibe or a wavelength or just a feeling, but I could feel him like he was standing right next to me. "Where are you?"

It was so embarrassing I laughed. "Che & Coco." It was Barnsley College's resident bar and nightclub. The average age of the crowd was barely 20 and I felt like such a loser trying to claim that nostalgia is what made me want to club there.

"Geez, you really are down bad." His laughter rang through the phone and I nearly hung up due to how beet red my face was. He laughed and laughed. I could picture him with his hands on his knees, walking home from Will's house, unable to breathe he was laughing so hard. Then, I couldn't breathe. "You want me to pick you up?"

I'd like that a lot but I couldn't take it. That was a bridge too far. "No, no. I'll just call a taxi or something. Maybe even walk. My hotel isn't that far."

"You're gonna walk in Barnsley at midnight? Hope you don't get hit with a beer bottle," he joked. That had happened to Will back in the day. I'm convinced it made him even dumber if that's possible.

"I've walked later than this in New York," I reasoned.

"Janie," he stopped me, "I'd like to see you if you won't run away from me."

I sighed. "I'll see you in 20. I'll be waiting on Peel." Because maybe I would like to see him too.

He pulled up in his mum's car. It wasn't her car from way back in the day but it made him feel sophomoric to me. His hair wasn't gelled up, instead falling around in tendrils of combed-back magic. He had a hoodie on and a smile on his face. He honked the horn of the car and I dashed across the street to his car.

The car was warm, at least warmer than outside where I had been suffering. I tugged my coat closer and put my seatbelt on. "Hi."

Alex smiled over at me. "Hi." He pulled back onto the road and I couldn't remember the last time he had driven me. "How've you been?"

I shrugged in his peripheral vision. "Fine. Christmas was fine. My dad bought me Slouching Toward Bethlehem."

Alex laughed. "About 10 years too late."

"Yeah, but at least he's trying. I can't remember the last time he bought me a gift." My mother handled all the presents, something she was rather good at, even if it always felt like she didn't know me.

We stopped at a red light. "I didn't get anything for you," he said while looking over at me.

"Well, I didn't get you anything either." First time in eight years. It didn't even cross my mind. "This is enough of a present anyway."

He nodded in agreement. "Good." I believed him. The nod of his head told me that this meant as much to me as it did to me. Drunk actions are sober thoughts and sometimes I just wanted to hear his voice.

We kept driving. I had yet to tell him any directions. He was headed the right way but I wouldn't have had the willpower to tell him anyway. I liked driving around with him. I liked just this. The vibration of the road beneath us and the scent of him washing over me. The slowness of Yorkshire and the heat of him beside me. It made everything feel right.

"Arielle come with you?"

He rubbed his eye. He looked tired. "Nah. She went to her parents’." I nodded and he waited, looking over at me. I stared at him blankly. He looked back at the road and kept the car moving. "What about, uh, Jackson?"

My head snapped toward him. "He's at his parents’." I picked at my nails. I didn't want to talk about this. Why did it feel like I was cheating on him? It felt like Alex had died and I was some widower trying to move on but his ghost was coming back to shame me.

"Katie mentioned something," he muttered.

"Yeah," I explained, "just a few months."

He nodded slowly. "He's a nice guy." I laughed out loud. He laughed too, for some reason. "What?"

I shook my head. "We don't have to talk about my boyfriend."

"Okay. We don't have to talk about Arielle." It was probably some form of cheating, emotionally. We gazed at one another and never acted on anything, but the aftertaste of it didn't feel right. But in the moment, everything had fallen perfectly into place.

We went nowhere and neither of us said a single thing about it. The drive from the club to my hotel was ten minutes. We drove around for an hour.

"Joanie's house is beautiful. It's like my dream house. It isn't big but it's not a cottage or anything. But it's quaint. She's got plants and I never thought Joanie could take care of a living thing and now she's gonna have a baby," I told him. I fiddled with the radio, even though we weren't gonna listen to it.

"Are you sure they aren't fake?" He joked. I chuckled and hit his shoulder. "Eh! Watch it. I'm driving here, missy."

I held my hands up as a defense. I eased them back down with a giggle and tugged on my seatbelt strap. "You know, I thought I'd have a baby by now."

He snorted. "No, you did not."

"At one point I did. I mean, back before you. Like when I was still playing with dolls." 

He laughed again and everything made sense. "Good thing you don't. You can't even keep a plant alive."

"They're not self-sufficient enough."

"And you think a baby will be easier?"

"Not anymore but at six I did! It was right around when Stacey was born. I took good care of her."

Alex felt warm with a smile. "You did." He was an only child but at times I felt he might consider her a sister too. She considered him a brother. He had been around since she was 11. She was only a little over a year away from graduating university. 

"Granted I didn't have to breastfeed her."

It was still dark outside but it felt like the sun was rising in that car. "You wouldn't be happy living Joanie's life."

"How do you know?" I questioned. "Maybe if I was settled I'd feel better."

Alex's jaw gaped. He breathed a laugh and I looked over at him curiously. "Jane, you'd be losing your mind. The whole time I knew you here, you were begging to get out of here."

"Maybe I had it all wrong."

He shook his head, never looking over at me, just driving. "You're a completely different person because you got out of here. You're gonna get all that stuff one day. The kid, the garden, whatever the fuck you want, but you'd never have what you have no if you stayed put. You always knew what you wanted. Your gut is always right. I've learned that."

I sighed and accepted he was right. "Grass is always greener, I guess."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But I think you have the greenest grass. You're the one who's a bestseller."

I rolled my eyes and leaned on the center console. "She's the one with the husband and baby."

He scoffed, "So is half the world. You have a tough time being proud of your accomplishments."

I gasped. "Look who's talking. My god!"

Alex chuckled and it felt like food for my soul. Fertilizer to my soil to keep growing. "Fair enough. But be cocky every once and a while, Janie. You deserve it."

I took what he said to heart but ignored him. I wanted to talk about something else. I wanted to put my feet in his lap and ride to Charlton Brook. Instead, I leaned back and looked at him. "We used to talk about the future so much and now it's come and gone."

"You're not dead yet." But we were. I think that's what I really meant. All those things I had planned with him and I had to be content with letting them go. Watching those promises slip through my fingers. I had no right to feel that way but it's all I felt.

I wanted to tell him I loved him with the windows rolled down and the cold air rushing in because he used to let me do that. I believe that right had been revoked. "I missed it here." The truth was hidden in those words, in between the lines, deep in those letters, stuffed in between them.

He hummed, glancing over. "Me too. Everything feels a little simpler."

I heard the radio speaking, ringing some familiar tune that I couldn't think of the name. Maybe if it had been a little simpler and Alex and I stayed there forever, in the car ride between Wakefield and High Green, we'd have a house, a garden, a ring, a little thing on the way. 

But I would've missed out on a lot more. I would have missed out on a lot of Alex. How he was with his hair long in the middle of Joshua Tree, looking over at me instead of the night sky. How he made up our bed in our London studio apartment into a couch because we didn't have enough space for one. How he felt sitting next to me on the C train at 2 AM. How he felt in the dead of winter in Yorkshire, somehow ending up at my hotel with a hoodie I used to wear and a smile he still wears just for me.

I'll never know otherwise. And that's fine.

*

a/n: this was a struggle but i think it landed right in the end. much, much more to come.

[midnightwrriting]

Maya and Art first study session/meeting

Art looked over in the library, seeing a familiar pale face, a girl from his math class sitting with her head in her hands, seeming frustrated and angry. He slowly walked up to her nervously. "Hey, excuse me?" His voice soft and raspy from the hours of studying.

She looks up seeing the blonde boy. He wore a standford hoodie with tennis team written under it and black shorts. "Hi?" She says, wondering what he needed.

"I saw you were struggling, and well, I'm in the same class as you. I've seen you in there before and thought I could offer you help, " he stammered over his words, his nerves getting the best of him.

Maya smiles, leaning onto the table more than before, her red hair falling onto the desk due to its length. "How do you know I was struggling with math. I could've been struggling with something else, " she says, wanting to mess with him. Art didn't know how to respond, now feeling like he was being a creep. He rubbed the back of his neck for a second, finding words before she spoke up again. "I'm kidding. It is math," she pauses, smiling and watching as he smiles himself. "I would love your help." Her voice is so soft and sweet like a sugary snack late at night.

Art chuckled at her comment, then pulled the seat out that was in front of her. "Great," pausing for a moment to get his things back out. "I'm Art, by the way." he reaches out a hand. She smiles, taking his "I know." she has a soft smirk on her lips. Making him blush.

"I'm Maya," her voice playful and still smooth. Art returns her playful smirk. "I know." they share a look before Art gets pulled back to reality, reaching for his notebook he spoke up. "So where do you need my help?" She smiles, looks down, flips through her notebook.

《•☆•☆•》

I think I'm going to start posting blurbs from my oc and art 🎀🎾

[uwabbittuwabbit]

Eterna's Iceberg of Race Replays

I keep seeing people asking about how to watch MotoGP race replays in a financially responsible way, so here's my guide on where to find them!

TIER 1: MotoGP YouTube Channel Playlist MotoGP is probably one of the better racing series in that there are race replays readily accessible on their YouTube channel. They also do have some replays on their Facebook if you have the time to do an archaeological excavation, which I forgot to put on the iceberg (for example the 2014 Qatar GP). Since it's on their official accounts, it's at the top.

TIER 2: Motomundo Many a motoheads' trusted source for replays! Motomundo also has various documentaries, as well as practice, qualifying and testing replays. Motomundo also has a VKVideo account that which you can use if you are so inclined. Unfortunately, it has been reported of late that many of the videos have stopped working, with most of the older races not accessible at all. On the second tier since it is widely recommended and an open secret.

TIER 3: BiliBili (1) (2) This one is kind of unusual! Some endeavoring fans have done a great work of philanthropy by uploading entire seasons of MotoGP replays onto BiliBili, which is basically the Chinese equivalent of YouTube...but more. It can be overwhelming (they have a function where users can write comments which then are displayed on the screen while the video plays, for example) and maybe when I have more time, I could write a guide. Another circumstance of these replays being Chinese reuploads is that the commentary is also in Chinese, and there are some really very ugly watermarks from the broadcast itself that cannot be readily edited out. However, the archive is VERY extensive, although it only comprises of races. On the third tier since BiliBili is very popular in China, but more obscure in the West, and I only found this because I am Chinese and already had knowledge of the platform. The first link leads to a collection in which all the races from 1979-2019 have been uploaded. The second is from the same user, however it is just footage of 2020 testing. Unfortunately it seems that their uploads have paused there, at least for now.

TIER 4: This suspicious ass looking website If you've ventured this far down into the iceberg, I'm assuming that suspicious looking websites that have the potential to give you a virus don't phase you. But nevertheless, as a disclaimer, this website is a little hard to navigate. However, not only does it provide MotoGP coverage (in English), it also covers the feeder series as well and includes them in their race weekend compilations. There are options to view the race in varying resolutions, as well as links to various other uploads on Meta (not THAT Meta) and the like. Unfortunately around 2018 are where the uploads become a bit spotty, with many of the videos being unplayable and the links also leading nowhere. A very warranted tier four rating.

TIER 5: ArchivoGP (1) (2) (3) The reason I placed this one so low is not necessarily because it's better than the rest of the sources (in fact, at time of writing this post a good portion of their videos have been taken offline) but because the story in finding it was actually pretty funny. For context, I was on the hunt for a clip of Marc Marquez giving reigning world champion Pecco Bagnaia the thumbs up at the end of Mugello Q2 (thank you tumblr user suzuki-ecstar for replying to me about this...) and none of the sources I was using (so, any of the above already listed) had that clip. I was gnashing and gnawing my teeth in pain. So where else does one go to find something that is presumably lost? Internet Archive! I really thought this was the end of the road and I would have to clip that moment from a shitty vertical YouTube Short or something. Pain. But then I happen upon a full MotoGP replay. It wasn't of the session I wanted, but when I looked into the user a little further, I saw that they had uploaded various other full race replays. In their bio it was stated that they had a Telegram channel under the same name (ArchivoGP), so I did a Google search and found that they indeed did. Happily, their uploads (which are DAZN broadcasts consisting of pre-GP, practice, qualifying, sprint, feature race, post-GP and also cover the feeder classes) DID have that moment and that is the story of how I finished a fancam with the help of Internet Archive, which once again has saved my life. The three different links above lead to their old site, their new(?) one, and their video archive in question which is hosted on TokyVideo. Unfortunately their archive only dates back to 2020, and as I have stated previously some of them have been taken down.

MISCELLANEOUS: (1) (2) These are some assorted Internet Archive sources which I found while trying to backtrack how I found the previous source. I haven't had the time to actually sort through and vet the videos except for one, the original ArchivoGP user uploads (which is the first link, though I'm not entirely sure because they have since changed the name of the channel).

I hope with this masterpost I have saved you guys a lot of time that you (and me, to be honest) do not have. If you want to know where to watch races LIVE, user kingofthering has a very handy dandy masterpost here which you can go check out.

Psst: in general, if you want to very legally watch something, this is a good resource that I recommend. Cheers! ;)

[youngsadlesbian]

asking for poly!marylene x reader pretty please with cherries on top? orr if you don't write poly, can you just do something with mary? i'm thinking of singer! mary here, dedicating a song to the reader in the crowd? or asking r to come to stage because she just need to show the world they're together? thanks for considering it! 💞

HIDDEN MELODIES — mary macdonald.

pairing: mary macdonald x reader

summary: you and mary have a secret relationship for almost a year until she finally reveals to the world who her heart belongs to.

a/n: i think that's close to what you asked and i promise to try to write and post something with poly marylene soon, but for now, enjoy this cuteness <3

word count: 1,1k

warnings: none, just fluff.

Mary Macdonald had been your girlfriend for almost a year, and only a total of five people knew about it. It wasn’t your intention to keep the relationship a secret, but Mary was a rising star in the music world, and her agent thought it would be smarter for you to keep it under wraps for a while.

You agreed because you understood the importance of Mary’s career and how the world was still extremely homophobic. Perhaps the time to reveal your relationship would come, but for now, you supported her from the sidelines, cheering her on at every opportunity.

One of your favorite places to be was in the recording studio with Mary. You loved watching her work, seeing her eyes light up as she perfected each song. The studio was her sanctuary, and you felt privileged to be a part of it.

“Does this sound okay?” Mary asked, pulling off her headphones and looking at you expectantly.

You listened to the playback, her voice filling the room with raw emotion. “It sounds incredible, Mary. You’re going to blow everyone away with this album.”

She smiled, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “I couldn’t do this without you, you know. Your support means everything to me.”

You walked over to her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

Mary sighed, leaning into your embrace. “I wish we didn’t have to hide. I want the world to know how much I love you.”

“I know,” you whispered, holding her close. “But for now, let’s focus on your music. We’ll figure everything else out when the time is right.”

Many nights were spent in the studio, rehearsing late into the night. One evening, after a particularly long session, you both sat on the couch, exhausted but content.

Mary looked at you, her eyes soft with affection. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

You laughed, nodding. “How could I forget? You were so nervous, but the moment you started singing, it was like magic.”

“I was nervous because I saw you in the audience,” she admitted, a shy smile playing on her lips. “I wanted to impress you.”

“Well, you certainly did,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “And you continue to impress me every single day.”

She leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. “I love you,” she murmured against your lips.

“I love you too, Mary,” you whispered back, feeling your heart swell with emotion.

The opening night of Mary’s first tour was approaching, and you could feel the excitement and tension in the air. You were in the front row, filled with pride and anticipation as the lights dimmed and the music started.

Mary took the stage, her presence captivating the audience instantly. She performed several songs, her voice resonating through the arena, touching the hearts of everyone present. Then, she paused, scanning the crowd until her eyes found yours.

"This next song is very special to me," she began, her voice filled with emotion. "It's about someone who has been my rock, my inspiration, and the love of my life. Tonight, I want to share with all of you a part of my life that I've kept private for too long."

The crowd murmured in curiosity, but Mary’s eyes never left yours. "This is for you," she said softly, "thank you for everything."

As the first notes of the song played, you felt tears welling up in your eyes. Mary’s voice was filled with love and sincerity as she sang, and each word felt like a personal message to you. The audience was spellbound, hanging onto every lyric.

When the song ended, the arena erupted in applause, but Mary wasn’t finished. She took a deep breath and looked out into the sea of faces. "I want everyone to know that I’m in love with the most amazing person. We've been together for almost a year, and it’s time I share this part of my life with you all. Y/N, I love you."

The crowd's reaction was a mix of surprise and admiration. You stood there, overwhelmed by emotion, as Mary extended her hand towards you. You made your way to the stage, your heart pounding in your chest.

When you reached her, Mary pulled you into a tight embrace, and the audience cheered. The moment felt surreal, like a dream come true. You looked into her eyes, filled with love and gratitude.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice shaking.

Mary smiled, her eyes shining with tears. "No, thank you. For everything."

From that moment on, your relationship was no longer a secret. The world now knew that Mary Macdonald was not only a talented musician but also deeply in love with you. The support from her fans was overwhelming, and you both knew that together, you could face anything.

The tour continued, but this night was forever etched in your memory as the night your love was celebrated openly, and the beginning of a new chapter in your life together. Backstage, the atmosphere was electric with excitement.

Mary turned to you, her face glowing with happiness. "We did it," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "We finally did it."

You nodded, tears streaming down your face. "I’m so proud of you, Mary. You were amazing out there."

She laughed, pulling you into another hug. "I couldn’t have done it without you. You’ve always been my biggest supporter."

"And I always will be," you replied, kissing her softly. "No matter what."

In the weeks that followed, your relationship became a beacon of hope for many. Mary’s fans embraced your love story, and you received countless messages of support. It wasn’t always easy, but knowing you had each other made every challenge worth it.

One night, as you lay in bed, Mary turned to you, a thoughtful expression on her face. "What do you think the future holds for us?"

You smiled, brushing your fingers through her hair. "I think it holds a lot of love, happiness, and adventure. And as long as we’re together, I know we can handle anything."

Mary leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. "I love you more than words can say."

"And I love you," you replied, holding her close. "Forever and always."

As you drifted off to sleep in her arms, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment. Your journey together had just begun, and you knew that with Mary by your side, the future was bright and filled with endless possibilities.

[starwarsmum]

I'm a lying liar who lies because I've added a bonus chapter onto Lost in Paris!

So here's chapter 7 y'all ❤️

Chapter 7: A Bruce-y Bonus

Bruce Wayne was having a bad day. Well, more like a bad week. Okay, to be completely honest, the past year hadn't been great. First, Jason had taken Bludhaven’s protector to Paris for a week, leaving it vulnerable to attack: it had been unbelievably lucky that nothing serious had happened.

Then, his worst nightmare had come true and an unknown magic user had managed to hoodwink Wonder Woman enough to gain access to the Watchtower. Ladybug and her team had been accepted by most everyone else without question, a sure sign that she had bewitched them. 

And in the past eight months, Tim had begun scheduling increasingly regular meetings for him at Wayne Enterprises, meetings he had been unable to avoid. Every time he had tried to get out of them, Tim had sternly reminded him that he was a co-CEO and would need to start pulling his own weight. He had been embarrassed to be scolded by his son saying that he was putting too much on the young man's shoulders. 

In fairness, not long after he had begun taking on a more active role in the company, Alfred had taken pity on him and started to help him more than he had been in the previous five years. Whilst Alfred had never mentioned Damian’s departure, past the first time he inquired after his absence, Bruce was sure that the man had, at least in part, blamed Bruce for him being gone.

But now, after a suspiciously quiet-from-villains Christmas season, Alfred was reminding Bruce that he would be leaving the mansion for a few days. Bruce was floored; Alfred rarely left the manor overnight, and never for multiple days. “Alfred, surely you aren't leaving now? Right before Valentine's Day, when the villains of Gotham have been quiet for the past few national holidays?” 

“Master Bruce, I did warn you that I would need to leave on urgent business around this time,” Alfred said pointedly, closing his suitcase with a snap. Bruce made protests but they fell on deaf ears. When he questioned the timing, and what on earth he was going to be doing that couldn't be put off, Alfred gave an almost weary sigh. “I have already explained to you, Master Bruce, that a family member I believed long lost had actually made a family after I lost contact with them. The family reached out to me recently and has made me aware that they can accommodate an extended visit now, and I intend to go to them.”

“You're planning on traveling alone, to family that you've never visited before?” Bruce asked, incredulous. “Alfred, that sounds unwise, what if they turn out to be something more sinister?”

“They have already proven to me, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they are who they say they are. But I do not plan to travel alone, Master Tim has graciously offered to go with me to ensure my safety. He was most apprehensive about this, presumably for the same reasons you are.”

“You're taking Tim?” It was worse than Bruce had thought - with Jason and Dick irritated with him, he couldn't trust them to watch over his city with him. Tim was the last of his sons behaving as he was trained, and now he was leaving for several days? “Tim can't leave, he has work! Not to mention I need him to help cover the various parts of Gotham.”

“That is not something that I can help you with, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, sounding thoroughly exasperated at this point. Bruce conceded, wishing Alfred a safe trip, and to call him if he needed him. Regardless of the apparent abandonment, he would not allow harm to come to Alfred should it transpire that this ‘family visit’ was more sinister than it appeared.

Once he left Alfred's chambers, he strode swiftly to Tim's. Upon finding them empty, he paused before deciding to check the Batcave. He was proven correct when he heard his son's voice and allowed his feet to make noise as he entered, wanting Tim's full attention. 

“Bruce, what can I help you with?” Tim said, after asking whoever was on the other end of the phone to hold for a moment. When Bruce remained silent, Tim sighed and turned to face him. Whilst Bruce did not agree that he was needed at Wayne Enterprises, he could not deny that Tim looked better rested these days. “Well? I'm sure you didn't come down here just to watch me work.”

“You're leaving Gotham? For several days, without informing me beforehand?” Bruce's voice came out in a growl, slightly more aggressive than he intended, but he decided it wasn't unwarranted. “One of our quietest Christmases on record, followed by an almost peaceful new year, and you leave right before the next holiday? I know you're smarter than that, we need to be prepared in case something happens.”

“I'm aware, B, that's why I'm coordinating with other Justice League members to cover my absence. Both Supermen have already confirmed they can be called upon to help, although Super-senior will be closer and more on hand. Flash has promised to come in if Supes is busy, and Ivy and Harley are keeping their own sectors under control. You'll be fine for the few days we'll be gone, I promise.”

After that, Tim resolutely ignored any of Bruce's protests, culminating in the older man stalking away. His anxiety only mounted when he heard Jason's laugh echoing from the kitchen. Jason had refused to visit for years, only coming when he was sure Bruce would be absent, and only to visit Alfred.

“Jason, this is an unexpected pleasure,” Bruce said, his heart warming until he saw a sour expression cross his son's face. “What brings you by?”

“Just here to pick up Alfie and Timmy,” Jason said begrudgingly. “I'm their ride, and we need to get moving.”

“I shall fetch Master Tim, he does seem to be blind to the time on occasions,” Alfred said, amusement and affection plain in his tone. Once he was out of the room, Jason scowled at Bruce, pointedly not picking up the conversation. So Bruce attempted to restart it, clearing his throat.

“I'm surprised you're offering them a ride, Jason, I didn't think you owned anything other than a motorbike,” Bruce said, curious. When that didn't get him an answer, he tried again. “When did you get a car?”

“I've had a car for years, I just don't use it much. And since Alfie is getting a well-earned vacation, I refuse to let him drive. Are we done now?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Tim burst into the room, carrying his own suitcase. Alfred followed at a more sedate pace, smiling and carrying his luggage. Jason immediately took it from the elderly gentleman, refusing to accept his protests. “I was just talking to Kon and making sure he had everything covered. Seeya later, Bruce!”

“I have left several meals in the freezer, Master Bruce, with labels and instructions of how to prepare them. I shall be back in one week at the latest, do try not to burn the manor to the ground.”

And Bruce was left suddenly alone, the voices of his family fading as they climbed into Jason's car and then an engine starting, followed by silence. He was flabbergasted, not only had Jason shown up to accompany Tim and Alfred, his sons seemed to be on much better terms again. He felt out of place, as if he had woken in the wrong house, and wrongfooted.

After several minutes of staring at the door, he decided he needed to know more about Alfred's supposed family. He placed a call to Oracle, stating what he needed firmly and ending the call as soon as she confirmed it back to him. Then he headed back down to the Batcave to do his own research.

_ _ _

Several hours later, the only information Barbara gave him was what he had found for himself. He was too preoccupied to notice the exasperation in her tone when he said that he had found the information himself already, but he didn't miss the snarl he got when he had asked her if that was all she had found. Nor did he miss the dial tone when she disconnected the call.

He reviewed the data, resolving to deal with her attitude at a later date. He sometimes wondered if he was the only one capable of behaving professionally, and often considered whether this was a side effect of deciding to train literal children. 

He looked at the flight to Paris that Alfred, Tim and, shockingly, Jason had boarded. It was still in the air, although it wouldn't be long until it arrived. If he wasn't currently the last Bat in Gotham, he would be able to beat them there via the Zeta tubes and shadow them to find out what was going on.

Unfortunately, he had to wait until the next day when Batgirl and Spoiler returned from their most recent trip abroad. He was in a bad mood when he went on patrol, and the fact that there were hardly any disturbances annoyed him. It made it look like Tim was right to abandon his post in favour of a ‘vacation’, as Jason had put it.

He briefed Steph and Cass as soon as they arrived, explaining that he was going to the Watchtower on an urgent matter, and to call if they needed help. He scowled when they said that they had already been informed of the plans in place, Tim having informed them somehow. He had been checking Tim's outgoing messages and there was no record of contact between them.

But finally, he arrived on the Watchtower, making his way over to his office. He had found himself spending more and more time in the office, ever since Ladybug had effectively resigned from the League. Wonder Woman had been furious, immediately pulling Bruce into a meeting room to chew him out. He had argued back, just as stubbornly, that Ladybug had proven herself a liability and they still needed to know her identity.

But Bruce had not won that argument, and Wonder Woman was still barely speaking to him. Even Superman had distanced himself, privately telling Bruce that he was worried about him, and that he thought he was wrong. And so, frustratingly, Bruce had had to conduct all of his research on Ladybug by himself, not even Tim assisting. 

A line had been drawn that had left his family on one side, agreeing that Ladybug's identity was her own business, and the correct side, pointing out that she was a loose cannon that needed to be reined in. The only person who seemed to agree with Bruce was Green Lantern, irritatingly.

Once secluded in his office, he pulled together all of the files he had compiled, starting with the crime statistics in Paris. They were suspiciously low, and Bruce felt that someone must have been altering the numbers before they were released, but he couldn't find a trail to the true statistics.

He then looked up Tim's credit card, finding several purchases in the past 12 hours. They all centered around a few apartment buildings, making Bruce's eyes narrow; was Tim not staying in a hotel? And the area Alfred's supposed family was staying in was much more expensive than he would have thought, could there be more to that story?

He went around the information several times before touching on the seemingly unconnected Ladybug. How did she factor in to Alfred traveling halfway around the world to Paris? Because he was positive she must have something to do with it, especially as all of his major problems had started when Dick went to Paris with Jason.

Several hours later, he concluded that there was nothing for it but to visit Paris himself. It would be around midday in France, meaning that he was more likely to spot where his family were. He packed his surveillance gear, but chose to go as Bruce Wayne instead of Batman. No point in calling attention to himself when he knew that Ladybug disliked that she had been unable to charm him.

He found a central cafe to the apartment buildings, settled onto a bistro table outside and waited. It took over an hour, but eventually he was rewarded when Jason came into view, holding hands with a young girl, no older than 2. Jason was looking down at her indulgently, listening to every word she said and responding when she paused for breath.

Watching intently, he observed them stepping into the tallest building, greeted by a doorman who seemed to recognise the pair on sight. Bruce frowned, wondering how he might be able to talk his way past the man. He made and discarded several plans over the next couple of hours, but ultimately couldn't think of a foolproof plan that wouldn't show his hand.

His stubborn refusal to move from his seat was rewarded again when Tim came out of the building next, accompanied by Alfred, the young girl who had been with Jason and a small woman with a pram. She smiled sunnily at the doorman, saying something that Bruce couldn't lipread.

Bruce's fortune continued when the group headed towards the cafe he was in, and he browsed the newspaper he had brought with him, whilst listening intently. The woman's voice was clear and warm, a combination that made Bruce slightly homesick for his life before that night in Crime Alley.

“Merci, Monsieur Pennyworth,” she was saying, seemingly paying little attention to Tim and the little girl. “I have felt…unsettled for much of today, I appreciate you coming with us. Hopefully, the others will have located the source of the disturbance by the time we…”

Her voice went out of his hearing range, and he waited a few moments before following. This was the family Alfred had spoken of? She seemed nice, but she had called him by his surname and seemed overly polite with the man. His suspicions (paranoia, a quiet voice murmured in the back of his mind) were heightened by her demeanor but he didn't move to act just yet.

He watched Tim playing with the little girl, making her shriek and giggle as he swung her around. Just like with Jason, his son doted on the child, apparently hanging off of her every word. It was as alarming as it was endearing, and Bruce decided to try and close the distance between them. 

“...next week with Master Dick,” Alfred finished, looking and sounding at ease. Bruce tensed at the mention of his eldest, wondering what they had been discussing. “But I am so glad you were able to accommodate our visit, so soon. Now, we shall wait here whilst you visit with your friend, it would be rude of us to intrude.”

The young lady beamed up at Alfred, giving him a tight hug before calling for the little girl, Penélope. He got his first full glimpse of the little girl, and she had startling green eyes, and a shock of black hair. Her hair was a shade darker than the woman's own hair, almost absorbing the light that hers seemed to reflect.

Once the trio had vanished into the building, Tim and Alfred stood closely together, muttering in voices too low for Bruce to hear. Just when he thought he would move closer, a hand dropped onto his shoulder. He whirled, aiming to floor his assailant, only to pull up short when he recognised Jason - who looked furious.

“Bruce, what the fuck are you doing here?” His voice was full of anger, dark energy almost radiating from him. When he didn't get an answer, he grasped Bruce's upper arm and marched him over to Tim and Alfred. “I found the problem, apparently Bruce is stalking us.”

“Master Bruce, what brings you to Paris?” Alfred said, voice deceptively even. But Bruce could see the disappointment lurking in the older man's eyes and felt himself hunch inward. “I have to assume you are here on some form of business, as I know I taught you better than to impose yourself onto others’ plans.”

The silence that followed was awkward and intense. When Bruce looked to Tim for help, he was surprised to see the same anger across his face that Jason had. He swallowed before attempting to do some damage control. “...I have been concerned about all of your behaviours. The fact that you are all in a known enemy's base of operations is concerning-”

“Known enem- are you talking about Ladybug?” Came Jason's disgusted response. Bruce glared at him defiantly, ever more confident that she was the reason his family was acting strangely. “Bruce, you're being ridiculous, Ladybug hasn't even been seen since your ridiculous blow up on the Watchtower. How is your paranoia still pushing all of your buttons? Jesus, I don't think Alfred has even met Ladybug, how is it so twisted in your head that you think she's a problem right now?”

“Everything that has been going wrong this past year can be linked back to Ladybug. At the beginning of last year, you dragged Dick to Paris, leaving his city undefended and vulnerable. And you only did that after taking the Zeta tubes to Paris yourself the December before, which is when I assume you met Ladybug the first time.

“That all led to Ladybug making it onto the Watchtower, bamboozling most of the high ranking heroes and putting everyone at risk. She then allowed an unregistered magic user access, before finally realising that she wasn't going to fool me and declaring us enemies! And now, suddenly, Alfred believes he has long lost family in Paris, even though he's never mentioned anything of the sort before. If this has nothing to do with Ladybug, why is all of this happening?”

“Bruce, you are so far off your rocker, you should be in Arkham! Ladybug has literally done nothing wrong, she showed up to help and you treated her like a criminal. People like her because she's nice , and she genuinely wants to help them. She has literally been saving the world since she was fourteen, keeping her identity safe from even her teammates. What has she done, other than refuse to tell you her name, that makes you so suspicious of her?”

“There doesn't need to be another reason! I know the identities of every other hero in the Justice League, Ladybug should be no exception. How can we trust her if she won't tell us who she is?”

“Did you tell her who you were, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked quietly, and Bruce felt betrayed. He stared speechlessly at the man he saw as a father. Alfred sighed and placed a gentle hand on his charge's arm. “Master Bruce, you are a good man but you cannot expect trust from those you give none to.”

Silence descended once more, broken only when Tim's phone rang. He stepped away, answering and speaking in low tones. Bruce strained to hear what was being said but couldn't quite hear him without stepping closer. Which Jason stubbornly refused to let him do.

“Okay, alright, if you think it's a good idea, I can give him the phone,” Tim said, getting back into hearing range. His brow furrowed before his eyes widened. “Wait, what? You can't be serious, what good would it do for you to come here? No, I don't think- fine. We'll see you in ten.”

“He isn't,” Jason said, hand tightening on Bruce's arm. “Tell me he isn't just giving in and coming here.”

“He wants to finish things,” Tim said, shrugging, and Bruce tensed at the obvious threat in his words. Tim noticed and groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Jesus Bruce, take a chill pill. You're in no physical danger, even if you deserve a good smack.”

The next ten minutes passed in a charged silence, all four of them watching each other. Jason and Tim looked angry, but Alfred merely looked apprehensive and a little…sad. Bruce tensed further when he heard footsteps approaching from behind him, and span around to face the new threat.

When he first saw the approaching man, he was confused. The man was tall, muscular and had hair as dark as a starless night. He had a strong build, similar to Bruce's own, but seemed to have less tension. Bruce remained alert as he approached the group, stopping only once he was within touching distance.

“Todd, you may release him,” the man said, his voice unfamiliar, although the manner of speaking was not. Bruce shifted one of his feet behind him, distributing his weight to better defend. The man watched him with a raised brow, apparently amused by this behaviour. “Tt, it is good to see you too, father,” he said sarcastically, and Bruce fought the urge to blink and gape at him.

“Damian?” When the man nodded, Bruce could see the resemblance to the eighteen year old boy who had stormed off in a fit of pique. He had the same scowl lines, the same arrogant tilt to his mouth. “What are you doing here? Don't tell me you're a part of this conspiracy as well.”

“The only reason I am here is to stop you from terrorising my wife, who recently gave birth. You may think it appropriate to stalk a young woman and her two infant children,” Damian said, building up to full outrage and scathing sarcasm, “but if Todd had not spotted and recognised you, you would be dealing with the police and the local heroes. I will ask only once, what are you doing here?”

“My entire family abandons their posts and you didn't expect me to find out what was happening?” Bruce refused to let his cool demeanor slip, his voice deep and unworried. “I wasn't trying to stalk a young mother, I was assessing a threat. What is your connection to Ladybug? And what are her plans, does she intend to corrupt the Justice League further?”

“Hey, we did not ‘abandon our posts’, you fucking egotistical maniac,” Jason cut in, although Alfred admonished him for his language. “No, he's gone fucking insane, seeing enemies everywhere. Timbo here made sure your precious Gotham had super powered heroes on hand to keep the peace, not to mention Dick's still in Bludhaven which is barely a train ride away. And it doesn't matter what you thought you were doing, you could have traumatised my niece with your bullshit. 

“You know what, on top of that, what level of crazy do you have to be to see Damian, standing in front of you with the rest of your family, and still assume that a freaking superhero is the bad guy? We're all here to see Damian, who we love and missed because you have control issues. Get your head outta your ass and go home, you lunatic.”

Bruce stared at Jason, a frown on his face. He turned back to Damian after a moment, only to see him appraising Jason with surprise. Jason looked back at him before shrugging, almost bashful. “What? You knew all of that, stop staring at me.”

“I think that Master Damian is just touched that you care, Master Jason,” Alfred said, smiling warmly at his grandchildren. “And I must agree, we do love you, Master Damian, and I do believe you have made quite the home for yourself here in Paris.”

“None of you have told me what connection this has to Ladybug!” Bruce interjected, impatience making him snap. “And before you say that there is no connection, I will remind you that you are not behaving like yourselves. How are we even sure that this is really Damian?”

“Father, I am tired of this argument. You once told me that Robin could not stand without Batman, when I tried to persuade you to give me the freedom to step out from your shadow. You refused and I stepped out anyway. I did not come looking for Todd, even though I knew where to find him. He found me, and asked to be a part of the family I made for myself.

“I do not understand your obsession with the Parisian heroes, nor do I want to. Make no mistake, I have met them and made them aware of my past as I moved to their city, and I will be telling them about this…incursion. I have a life here and I will not allow you to ruin my life a second time.”

“How on earth did I ruin your life?” Bruce asked, bewildered. From where he was standing, it had most definitely been the other way around. “If you hadn't thrown a temper tantrum and run away, like a child, your brothers would be working to keep their city safe right now. Instead, you've convinced them to enter a potentially dangerous city, with a woman who thinks herself above the authority of the League!”

“Ah yes, the ‘dangerous’ city, which boasts the lowest crime rates and has superhero protectors. This interrogation is over, father, go home before I do call the police and press charges.” 

Bruce stared openly at the man claiming to be his son as he walked away. Instead of walking back the way he had come, he entered the building the woman had gone into, presumably to conspire further. He was jostled from his reverie by Jason, who started to march him down the street.

“What do you think you're doing?” Bruce demanded, his surprise giving way to indignation. Neither Tim nor Alfred made a move to stop Jason, which only made him angrier. “Jason, let go of me, I’m not done here. The only way to be sure that that is your brother is to do extensive tests. You need to listen to me, Ladybug must have done something to you, that's why-"

“Bruce, enough. You show up, terrify our sister-in-law and somehow think that you're in the right anyway? If even Alfred isn't on your side, you have to know you messed up,” Jason said, scowling even more, if that was possible.

“Jason, wait.” Both men halted suddenly at the words, the petite woman having arrived without their notice. “Merci, I did not want to have to chase you down. Jason, it is alright, you can let him go.”

“Pix, I really don't think this is a good idea,” Jason said, scowl softening to an unhappy frown when he looked at her. Bruce went onto high alert, his mind making connections between the petite French woman and the ‘heroine’ of Paris. “You weren't wrong in leaving him out of the family reunion, he's completely lost it.”

“Thank you, Jason,” she said softly, and Bruce was floored when his angriest son relented and released him with only a warning glance. “I would feel better if you did not leave us, though. Damian is already anxious enough, having to stay with the children whilst I have this conversation.”

“My son doesn't get anxious,” Bruce said, decisively and without doubt. When she raised an eyebrow at him, he felt himself get rightfully angry. “I know Damian, miss, and one of his qualities is his lack of fear. Now, tell me what your connection to Ladybug is.”

“Ladybug? The French superheroine?” The woman seemed genuinely perplexed. That more than anything else so far made Bruce pause. “Monsieur , you do realise that I was a teenager during her main years of hero-work, and that she is most notable for defeating a supervillain who preyed mostly on teenagers’ negative emotions? What do you think my connection with her is?”

“So you admit you are connected to her?” He said, pouncing on her admittance. He ignored Jason's eye roll, and Tim's put-upon sigh, positive that she had slipped and revealed more than she intended to. “What are her plans for my family? For the world?”

“You are actually insane,” she whispered, a look he read as horror crossing her features, and Bruce flinched at the quiet concern he heard in her voice. “Monsieur, Ladybug was famous for asking for aid in her battles and, I admit, I was available once to assist her. But I was not an adequate holder for the Mouse Miraculous and was therefore retired after a single fight. I have not spoken to Ladybug since then, although I believe my husband has contact with her due to his…past.”

“You- there must be more to this! You will not convince me that there is no plot from Ladybug, any more than you will that the man you claim to be your husband is my son. Now, tell me what you know about Ladybug's plans.”

“As far as I know, Ladybug has no plans. Nobody has seen her in six months, although the other heroes are seen now and then. But I am not going to be able to convince you of that. We have not even begun to discuss what I came to say to you, and you will listen . If you are indeed Bruce Wayne, then yes, I married your son, Damian Wayne. 

“It horrifies me that you think him incapable of fear, anxiety and probably doubt. Damian is brave, yes, but he fears disappointing those he cares for, something I am sure stems from his life in Gotham. He fears losing the life he has made here, and he is worried that you will make that happen. 

“You obviously allow fear to colour your decisions, or else you would not be here, confronting the mother of a newborn and a toddler. As someone who had to gain mastery of her emotions at a young age, let me assure you that you are in the wrong here. 

“Now, I have answered your questions to the best of my abilities,” she concluded, stepping back. He stepped forward, intent on getting more information from her but was stopped by Jason. “I suggest you find another way to spend your vacances, because if I see you following me again, I will be pressing charges and requesting a restraining order.”

“You can't-” Bruce started but she turned back to him, a flash of anger gracing her features.

“Monsieur, I am tired, hurting from having given birth little over a week ago, and have been frightened by a strange man following me and my family. I have already informed the police of my concerns, and it is already on file. I shall be updating that report once I go inside, if Damian has not already. For your own sake, I suggest you give me a wide berth.”

And then she was stalking away, stopping briefly next to Alfred and Tim, who was lowering his phone and looking at Bruce as if he didn't know him. Alfred was focused purely on her though, one of his arms around her shoulder as he steered her into the building.

After that his protests were ignored, and Jason forced him back onto the Watchtower. He was met there by Wonder Woman and Superman, both looking concerned. Well, anger was also fairly predominant on Wonder Woman's face, but it was tempered by some concern.

“Bruce, what's going on buddy?” Superman said gently, taking hold of him firmly and nodding at Jason. The younger man relinquished his hold on Bruce and thanked both of them for taking over. “No problem, Jason, let us know if you need anything else.”

“Nah, it's cool, I just want to go spend time with my brother and his kids without worrying about them being stalked,” Jason replied, giving Bruce a stern glare, before turning on his heel and vanishing from sight. The trio watched him disappear from view before Superman and Wonder Woman turned back to him.

“I do not know why you have insisted so much on painting Ladybug as a villain,” Wonder Woman began, the anger he could see on her face much more evident in her voice. “And I'm not sure I wish to. What possessed you to stalk a young woman and confront her in the streets of Paris?”

“That young woman is a cohort of Ladybug, and she has convinced the rest of the Bats that she is their only connection to Damian,” Bruce said, convinced that he could at least make them see sense. Superman looked surprised, but a happy kind of surprise, probably because Jon was often considered Damian's best friend before he went AWOL.

“Wait, you found Robin? When?” Superman demanded, but Bruce refused to answer him. He excused himself for a moment, calling Superboy to join them. Wonder Woman stayed still, watching Bruce. The silence stretched as no-one attempted to ask any more questions, and Bruce refused to explain himself.

Eventually, Superboy entered the room, smiling sunnily until he saw Bruce. At that point, the smile dimmed into a frown, just shy of a glare. It made Bruce tense all over, warning bells ringing in his head that Superboy was the first one approached on the Watchtower, which surely meant that he was compromised.

“Hey dad, you wanted to see me?” The young Kryptonian asked, moving next to the more brightly dressed heroes in the room. Superman gave a brief rundown of the situation and Superboy's glare turned almost lethal. “You stalked Damian's family?”

“So it's really them?” Superman asked, clearly stunned. When Superboy nodded and smiled, the older man smiled back, but looked a little hurt. “Why didn't you say anything to me or your mom? How long have you known?”

“It's been just under a year, I found out last April,” Superboy admitted, and Bruce quickly made the connection to Ladybug's first appearance on the Watchtower. He glanced at Bruce before continuing. “And I didn't tell you because Damian's wife was pretty explicit in her instructions that certain people be kept out of this particular loop. She's crazy protective of him, which I don't think is unfair given his past.” 

“You make it sound as if he was being tortured,” Bruce said loftily, staring at the young hero. Superboy just stared back at him, making him bristle with irritation. “My son has always been fiercely independent, to the point of being callous to all other people. His moniker of Ice Prince was not given in error, but you expect me to believe that he met a woman in the past six years and completely changed?”

“He hasn't really changed, though,” Superboy argued, visibly getting aggravated. Bruce snorted, drawing the eyes of both Superman and Wonder Woman back to him. “No, really. I've spent tons of time with him and his family in the last ten months, and he's the same guy he was when I left him in Germany six years ago. He just learned to bend a little, something you could really benefit from.”

“You will not convince me that Damian Al-Ghul Wayne, who barely managed to learn not to be an assassin, became the man I met today.”

“Okay, this is going around in circles. There's a much easier way of checking whether this young man is who he says he is, assuming you never revoked his access to the Watchtower?” Bruce said nothing but nodded slowly, allowing Superman to proceed. “Superboy, can you ask him to come to the Watchtower? Obviously he doesn't have to, but it would help to confirm that it is actually him.”

“I'll ask, but he does have a newborn,” Superboy said doubtfully. “He doesn't like being away from his family at the best of times, but after what they went through today…” he glanced again at Bruce, who refused to give any outward sign of discomfort. 

When Superboy was able to get hold of the man claiming to be Damian, there was no argument. The tension seeped away from Superboy's shoulders as he chatted quietly about the other man coming to the Watchtower. 

“Did he agree?” Superman asked eagerly, and Bruce was concerned that he was too biased to look at everything objectively. Superman had always been hopelessly optimistic about Damian returning to the fold. He practically vibrated with happiness when Superboy nodded, grabbing him up in a hug. “That's wonderful, when should we expect him to be here?”

“He needs some time to change and get to the Zeta tube, but it shouldn't be more than an hour,” Superboy said, glancing at Bruce. The next hour passed in near silence, and they moved to another room for better access to the computers so that they could check who was accessing the tubes in real time.

But finally the computer lit up, confirming that Robin was accessing the Zeta tube in Paris. Superman gave a happy laugh, squeezing his son's shoulder tightly. Superboy smiled less brightly, and Bruce eyed him suspiciously - if it was truly Damian, why was he suddenly unhappy?

Everything went even quieter when the young man Bruce had confronted earlier stepped into the room. He was dressed in an updated version of the Robin suit, the colours more muted, but still obviously Robin. Bruce refused to admit it, but he looked good, better than in the previous colours.

“I thought you weren't taking the mantle of Robin anymore? And where did you get a new suit?” Bruce demanded, eyes hard. Robin tensed before letting out a long breath and turning to face him. 

“I do not wear the mantle ordinarily, but I would not come to the Watchtower without something to obscure my identity. My wife is a talented seamstress and made this for me in case I ever wished to wear it,” Robin said coolly, his hands steady. Bruce was still trying to figure out why the suit looked strange when Wonder Woman worked it out.

“You came without your usual weapons,” she observed. Bruce realised it was true, the Robin in front of him lacked the katana he used to wear in Gotham. “Thank you, for taking time away from your family to settle this matter. And congratulations on welcoming your little one to join your family.”

“Thank you, we are overjoyed that they both have come through the birth safely. And I did not bring a weapon as I am not here to fight. I am only here to prevent further intrusions upon my wife and family,” Robin said, glaring at Bruce. “I believe the main reason you required my presence was to test whether the Zeta tubes recognised me?”

“Yes, and we have already confirmed your identity. May we ask some questions before we allow you to rejoin your family?” Wonder Woman was being gentle, her voice soft. Robin responded well, another thing that made Bruce suspicious, but he could not argue with the system in place for the Zeta tubes.

“I've got a question for you, if that's okay,” Superman said suddenly. When Robin nodded, he leaned towards both Robin and Superboy. “You left Gotham over six years ago, apparently with Superboy's help. How is it we haven't been able to locate you? I know most of the Bats have been trying for a long time.”

“Ah, that was due to Red Robin being under the impression that I had run away. Due to that belief, he never searched for my true name when searching for me. It was pure luck that Red Hood happened upon my details and re-entered my life. From there, I have made contact with all of my siblings, and Agent A.”

“My understanding is that you approached individuals one at a time to begin with. Why go such a roundabout way? Would it not have been easier just to approach everyone at once?” Wonder Woman asked; a pointless question in Bruce's eyes. He was growing impatient to ask what the connection with Ladybug was, as with Superman here, he wouldn't be able to hide his reactions.

“Tt, we were attempting to keep our lives private and out of scrutiny from…certain individuals,” Robin said, blatantly eyeing Bruce. “My wife has always wanted me to pursue this at my own pace, if I ever chose to reconnect with my family. And I did not wish to subject her, or my children, to the level of interrogation I knew would await them.”

“This is ridiculous,” Bruce growled, glaring at Robin. “I have waited long enough for you to tell me and you will answer me: what is your connection to Ladybug?”

“And I have already informed you of my connection,” Robin frowned, distaste obvious in his features. “Ladybug is the heroine responsible for Paris. I made a home for myself there, and with my particular past, I thought it prudent to inform her of who I was and the risks associated with my mother.”

“So you gave her your identity,” Bruce accused, a feeling of dread settling into his core. “How could you be so selfish? It was never just your secret to share!”

“How could I inform the resident hero of potential threats that came with my relocating to her domain?” Robin asked, a cool detachment becoming evident in his tone. “I do not have to explain myself to you , father. I did not tell Ladybug any additional information, I merely gave her the facts of my background and only to ensure that she would not be taken unaware if others came looking for me.”

“It was the responsible thing to do,” Wonder Woman interjected, frowning at Bruce once more. “Given that there have been no complications for yourself in the six years since Robin relocated to Paris, I would say it is not unjustified. I have yet to hear a logical explanation for your own behaviour, Batman.”

“Ladybug is an unknown power, she is a threat and we need to plan for when she eventually goes completely rogue!” Bruce could feel the situation slipping sideways, and knew that this would not be happening if Ladybug hadn't already woven her spell over the other League members. “Wonder Woman, you have deferred to Ladybug ever since she pushed to become a member of the Justice League and-”

“She did not push to become a member,” Wonder Woman said quietly. The room went silent, Superman and Superboy looking confused and Bruce outright befuddled. The only person who seemed unsurprised was Robin, which made Bruce even more suspicious. Wonder Woman sighed and pulled up her communication history with Ladybug on the computer bank.

“Ladybug has been of interest to me ever since she publicly revealed that she had defeated her nemesis and would continue to protect the city of Paris. I reached out with an invitation to join the League but she declined. I have reached out periodically since then, and last April she finally agreed to join, along with many of her cohorts. 

“So you can understand my frustration when one of our founding members treated her with suspicion, was hostile and unwelcoming, and eventually drove her to resign from the League,” Wonder Woman said, her voice a deadly calm. “You had no right to pry into her identity, no right to press her until she decided it was safer for her to leave.”

“I think I have served my purpose as much as I am able,” Robin said after a brief silence, in which Bruce and Wonder Woman were locked in a glaring contest. All four turned to look at him as he stood, Superman looking a little upset at him having to leave so soon. “My wife is understandably in a vulnerable state right now, and she has had a stressful day. If you do not have any further questions, I shall take my leave.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Superman said before floating over to him. “I guess my only question is if you intend to return to the Watchtower in the future? Or to hero work at all?”

“No, that part of my life is over,” Robin- no, Damian, he wouldn't be Robin anymore, regardless of what costumes he wore. Bruce felt an odd feeling of loss as his son bid farewell to Wonder Woman and Superman, bowing formally to each. “Thank you for your guidance in my youth, but I have found my place and a family who love me. I do not wish to jeopardise it by falling back into bad habits.”

“Then this is goodbye,” Wonder Woman said, sounding suspiciously hoarse. She hesitated before reaching over and gripping his shoulder tightly, trying to convey something that Bruce couldn't decipher. “I wish you and your family all the best. With Ladybug as the guardian of your city, I am sure that your children will grow up safe and well.”

“Tt, if your civilian selves ever find their way to Paris, do not hesitate to reach out,” Damian said firmly, turning to Superman. “Superboy knows where to find us, I give permission for him to relay my contact information through secure methods.”

Pausing only briefly, Damian then embraced Superman quickly, surprising everyone in the room. And then he was striding away, cape billowing dramatically behind him, not bothering to say goodbye to Bruce. Superboy trailed after him, floating along until they were side by side, Superboy and Robin, a sight nobody had seen in six years, and likely never would again.

“I think I have heard enough,” Wonder Woman said at last, breaking into Bruce's thoughts. He turned to her, tense and already looking to make counter arguments but the look on her face made him pause. She looked at him with something akin to pity, mixed with frustration and anger. “Batman, you have proven you do not have an unbiased view of the Parisian heroes. You also used the Zeta tubes to selfishly enter the city to satisfy your own curiosity.

“If Superman agrees, we will be restricting your access to the Paris Zeta tube. You will not be able to enter Ladybug's city without an accompanying hero, and even then we will be monitoring your actions. In addition, we will be monitoring your searches, to ensure you do not overstep and pry into your son's new life and family. He has made it clear that he does not wish for your involvement and we will respect those wishes.”

“This is absurd!” Bruce shouted, anger beginning to be crowded with panic. How did he make them see that they were bewitched? Nobody was so much as entertaining the idea that Ladybug was a danger, and that alarmed him. “You can't just-”

“Yes we can!” Wonder Woman shouted back, temper finally snapping. “You have caused irreparable damage with your paranoia and pigheadedness! Ladybug was a powerful ally, someone who did countless good in the four months she was with us and you ruined it ! Not only that, but it is blatantly obvious that you were the sole reason we lost Robin as a hero! You have always been suspicious of magic and it has gone too far.”

“B, you have to see that we have no choice,” Superman said quietly, sympathy clear in his voice, but with a surety that meant he would not be swayed. “Stalking a woman through the streets of Paris? You're lucky the police didn't get fully involved. As it is, if they ever choose to look into it, they'll see that Bruce Wayne never entered the country legally, which puts your whole identity at risk. You're behaving irrationally, and it's our job to make sure you don't cause further problems.”

After that, it didn't matter what Bruce said, Wonder Woman and Superman refused to bend. They sent him back to Gotham, though not before telling him that they were revoking his access to all Zeta tubes for the next month. He tried to argue that he would need them if there was an emergency, but they shut that down by suggesting that another hero could bring him.

When he returned, begrudgingly, to his manor, it was quiet in a way it had rarely been before. He looked around the batcave, imagining Dick on the trapeze equipment, or Jason reading a worn paperback at the planning table. He could almost hear Tim and Barbara clacking away at the computer, arguing about the most efficient way to hack into so-and-so's company for evidence.

Steph would have been complaining to Duke about a bust gone wrong, while he consoled her, and Cass would be listening intently, offering only the occasional word of comfort. How long had it been since the cave had been full? Since the family had been gathered and working together for the common good?

His eyes strayed to the wall covered in swords. They had barely been touched since Damian had left, only being used when someone was feeling rusty at that particular practice. And it had been a long time since anyone had just stopped by for a training session.

Damian. His wayward son, the reason for all of the strife and discontent in Bruce's household. He swallowed, stepping closer to the swords but not touching them. Why had he never returned? Bruce had never imagined that he would stay away, nobody else had ever managed. Hell, Jason had died and he'd still come back to the fold. 

His eyes fell on a slip of paper, folded in half with his name on the front. He scanned it, heart growing heavy as he read Steph's angry words, saying that Tim had sent her the video he had captured of Bruce's confrontation with Damian and his wife. That she was disappointed and if he needed assistance for anything crime related, he would need to go to another hero.

He sighed, slumping into a seat for longer than he normally would. Ordinarily, Alfred would come and encourage him to get some rest, but as he was in Paris…Bruce forced himself to his feet, going through the motions of going to bed. Perhaps things would look better after some rest.

Something inside him whispered that it wouldn't.

[peppermintquartz]

AU where no one is a firefighter except Eddie

Buck is part of Christopher's physical therapy care team

Tommy is a new Muay Thai instructor at the gym Eddie's going to.

*

Collusion

*

Buck looks around, a little curious about what a combat-focused gym is like. Two separate rings on the far end, a sparring session going on, many heavy bags behind the rings, then a whole mirrored wall on the left taken up by racks of free weights and kettle bells, the usual machines closer to the entrance, wall-mounted bars on the right side, and finally six treadmills and six spin bikes filling up the middle.

Feels a little too stark, he thinks, taking in the bare walls. It's a lot larger than the gym Buck goes to, but he's not going to drive an hour out of his way just to keep himself fit.

The sounds of impact from the ring are often met with claps or cheers from the watching group. Buck wanders over, painfully aware how out of place he must look, in his jeans and blue hoodie, but he's not here for a workout anyway.

The two in the ring are wearing helmets and their hands taped up. One of them - red helmet - feints right and his opponent in the blue helmet takes the bait, his left leg snapping up to kick. Red Helmet catches the ankle and shoves, following up instantly with a kick that lands on Blue Helmet's hip.

To Buck's surprise, Blue Helmet doesn't move an inch. Instead he holds up a finger. Red Helmet stops moving and straightens. After shaking hands, Blue Helmet removes the headgear, revealing a dark-haired man with a chiseled jaw and strong nose, and a cleft in his rather prominent chin.

"So that feint that Jacob did was really good," the man says. He is glowing with perspiration. "And it worked because the previous two attempts were not feints. He was priming me for this one. Well done, Jacob. Now, if that kick had come up higher, aimed at my shoulder, it would have pushed me off balance more."

The man goes on speaking, though he pauses momentarily when he noticed Buck. Even so, he finishes his explanations and sets his class to practice roundhouse kicks with the heavy bags before he comes over to Buck.

"I don't know you, do I?" The instructor hops off the apron of the ring and holds out a hand after dabbing his brow with a towel.

"Uh, hi, no," Buck stammers. Close to, the instructor is even more handsome, and now Buck sees that the man had ear piercings. "My name's Evan Buckley."

"Evan, hi. Tommy Kinard." Tommy flashes a wide grin. "Like what you see?"

"Very much," Buck blurts out, registering only later that Tommy was referring to the Muay Thai. Now Buck can understand why Eddie and Christopher have both been raving over this man. He shakes off his awkwardness. He's not here to make friends, he's here to conduct a transaction. "B-but I'm not here about that. I'm, uh, I'm a friend of Eddie Diaz."

"Oh, okay! That's cool. Did he recommend my class to you?"

Buck smiles and sighs lightly. "Yeah, all the time. I don't know if I'm gonna get into a sport where two half naked men pummel each other, but he seems to be having fun." And Eddie has been talking constantly about you, how cool you are, how you and he have served in the army, how you have a car lift in your place, how competent and clever and chill all the time... If Eddie wasn't dating Marisol I think he'd ask you out. Buck clears his throat. "Actually, this is about something else. Would you be free to chat later? I don't wanna hold your class up too much."

Tommy shrugs. "Sure. I've an hour left of the class though, and then I'm free."

"Great! I have some errands to run, and then I'll pop back here, and we can talk." Buck shakes Tommy's hand - big hand, strong grip - and nods.

*

An hour later, Buck is waiting at the reception area. The dry cleaning has been dropped off and he finally got the bag of rice he's been intending to buy in the back of his car. Mentally ticking off the ingredients in his fridge, he almost fails to notice Tommy approaching him until he looks up and meets a pair of blue eyes.

His breath skips.

"Hi Evan. You wanna chat here in my office or...?"

"Office is good."

Tommy leads the way into a cluttered room. There's some organization - all the folders are in a metal shelf, and certificates and awards are framed on the wall behind Tommy's desk. The desk itself was piled with stacks of paperwork. Buck's fingers itched to put things in order, especially the tilted frames behind Tommy.

"Sorry about the mess," Tommy says, sounding a little embarrassed. "We're nearly to tournament season and the number of forms I have to fill goes a little insane."

Buck shrugs. "It's okay. No forms to fill from me, I promise."

Tommy crinkles a smile at him again. "Alright, take a seat. what's this about?"

"You know Eddie has a son?"

"Yeah, Christopher. Met him a couple times. Eddie's always talking about him."

Buck nods and ducks his head with a smile. "It's a couple of weeks to Christopher's birthday and, um, I heard from Eddie that you used to be a pilot. And that you fly for fun sometimes."

Tommy tilts his head. "So..."

"I was hoping to engage you as a pilot to fly Christopher on a helicopter. He's never been on one and it'll be really good for him to experience it. I've asked my lead in his care team and he'll be fine, he just needs help getting on and off the helicopter and making sure he's secured properly."

Tommy's face falls. "Sorry, Evan. I can't do that."

Buck's heart sinks.

Tommy goes on. "Because that's my present to Christopher. I even have the route planned out. I was gonna tell Eddie next week so he'll drive Chris out to the heliport."

"Oh, okay." Buck can't help feeling like the wind has been taken out of his sails. He thought it was a great idea too, and even finagled Tommy's workplace out of Eddie, plucked up his courage to approach the man for this.

Tommy reaches a hand across the paper-strewn desk. "Wait, I have an idea. Why don't we collude?"

Buck raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"I won't ask Eddie to bring Chris over. Instead, you take them to the heliport," says Tommy, his eyes bright, "I'll fly all four of us over some of the prettiest sights along the coast, and then-"

"-Italian for dinner and ice cream sundaes for dessert," Buck finishes. He isn't going to let Tommy plan everything. The bond he has with the Diaz family is one he guards jealously, and while Tommy is a very attractive man, Buck isn't about to let him take Buck's place. "I'll make the reservations."

"Sounds good," Tommy replies. He takes out his phone and unlocks it. "Let's exchange numbers."

"Exchange numbers?"

Tommy looks at Buck, amusement hovering over his lips. "Kinda need your number to collude, Evan."

"Oh, right. Yes." Buck gets his phone out as well to save Tommy's number.

Tommy frowns at his phone. "Uh, sorry. How do you spell your last name?"

"B-U-C-K-L-E-Y."

"Oh, you're Buck! I thought... Shit, sorry. I thought you were another friend of Eddie's, someone he's never talked about."

Buck's confusion must have shown on his face, because Tommy gesticulates a little awkwardly as he explains, "I heard you say 'Evan Barkley', as in B-A-R-K-L-E-Y, and I'm not the smartest tool in the box so I didn't put two and two together. Wow, I'm an idiot." He grimaces, and the crinkles around his eyes make another appearance. "Sorry. Should I call you 'Buck' instead?"

Buck considers. Sure, no one else but his parents call him that, but he doesn't hate the way the word sounds in Tommy's mouth. And it'll be an easy way to remind Buck that Tommy's not part of Buck's chosen family if he's the only one calling him Evan.

"Nah, Evan's good. Otherwise I'll think you're asking me to go 'woof' or something," Buck teases.

Tommy's cheeks flush a charming shade of pink, probably from embarrassment. He makes a wry grimace again and extends a hand. "Here's to a happy collusion."

"Text me the time and place, and I'll get the Diaz boys to you," Buck says and shakes Tommy's hand.

It's strange. He wanted to dislike Tommy, coming here to see for himself who this Tommy is and why his boys have been so taken by him. Now Buck finds himself looking forward to receiving messages from Tommy and to taking a ride on his helicopter.

[macravishedbymactavish]

A Symptom of Being Human (John "Soap" Mactavish x GN! Reader)

Look at me cleaning up my drafts with 2 finished WIPs in one night.

TW for very light angst and a very concerned Soap

| Blog HQ | Modern Warfare 2 Masterlist |

"You dinnae look happy" a voice commented as you walked into the shared kitchen. You spared him a shrug as you continued quietly to the cupboards, looking for your cup to make a warm drink in.

"What's bothering ye? You can talk to me, I don't bite" The corner of your mouth twitched at that, while he could be loud, and border the line of obnoxious his heart was in the right place.

"Would you believe me if I told you it's just how I look?" You glanced over your shoulder, watching as he slowly squinted at you. Clearly not buying it.

"Just my face, Irish Spring. I'm having a really good day actually" you shrugged once more, ignoring his protests mumbled from under his breath about the nickname. ('M not even Irish…)

As far as you could remember, you were always having people checking in on your wellbeing. Friends, distant family, caring strangers, store clerks, and teammates. Your normal expression clearly wasn't welcoming and optimistic. It was the opposite actually - you looked like you hated the world and everyone in it at all times.

"But you look miserable" You appreciated his concern, but didn't need him worrying about you. Pausing slightly, you shook your head before glancing over at your friend.

"The face looks upset, the soul feels good. Do you want a coffee?" You lightly chuckled, grabbing another mug out of the cabinet when he accepted your offer.

--

"You're concerning Soap" Ghost confided to you later that day, following a sparring session between the two of you. "He's convinced you're depressed and not telling him everything"

You couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes, you loved your teammate. You really did, but he was so overly concerned for nothing.

"I've told him, it's just my face. I don't know what more I can do, outside of wearing a mask like my resting bitchfaced friend" you smirked at Simon, watching him copy the action you had just done a moment prior.

"You know 'im as well as I do, he's not going to suddenly stop being concerned. Especially since he thinks you're devastated about something and hiding it" Simon had a point...shit.

It was at dinner that night, when you felt a pair of eyes burning a hole in the side of your head. You had a fairly good guess at who was on the other end so you continued eating.

How many times do I need to tell him I'm fine? It's just. My. Face.

You opted against entertaining the concerned stare, in favour of continuing your meal. Making small bits of conversation with your table mates between bites. That was until you heard a soft, yet obnoxious shuffling getting closer. He wouldn't.

"Hey guys" Kyle awkwardly greeted, placing his tray down at one of the empty chairs across the table from you. "Thought I'd sit here, change of pace" you arched a brow at the man, seeing right through his change of pace.

You continued picking at your food, waiting for the question to be asked. Waiting for the confirmation that Kyle didn't come by to just hang out. Glancing up at him every so often, you watched as the man sat awkwardly across from you. Shoulders stiff as he sat.

"You can tell Johnny that I'm fine" you commented after another moment of silence. "And you don't have to stay if you don't want to"

He gave you a small smile before picking his tray up and returning to his main group. Leaving you to roll your eyes, and audibly groan when you felt another tray land beside you.

"No. I'm eating, you do not get to badger me about this now" voice trailing off as your eyes met those of the confused recruit. "Nevermind, I honestly thought you were someone else"

Poking at the food for a second longer, your appetite leaving the chat after you potentially scarred the poor stranger. Dumping the remnants of your tray into the trash, you sighed softly as you continued on to your room.

3 steps from your door, you heard a familiar voice call out to you. Jogging up to meet you before you passed the threshold.

"Are ye sure you're okay?" He asked, leaning against the wall in front of you. You debated whether or not to call him out on his dinner plan, and involving Kyle in all of this madness. Deciding against it in the moment, you went with a simple:

"I'm fine, Johnny. I promise I'd tell you if I wasn't" followed by a small smile, almost missing the unfocused gaze he was giving you.

Almost.

The two of you sat in silence, a rarity for the man in front of you. The team could've swore he was allergic to silences unless required for work. Always chattering about something, making silly jokes or teasing his friends. But right now? He sat silently, unmoving. Eyes staring right through you as his mind was clearly not within range. You lifted your hand to wave it in front of his face, then it clicked. The reason why he was so concerned for you. The moment passed as soon as it began, quickly blinking and refocusing on you.

"I know you would, I still worry for ye though" a small punch to the shoulder, and he was making his way down the hallway. Leaving you standing in place, eyebrows furrowed with the latest revelation. How did you never realize this before? Turning to stop him, to sit him down and ensure he was alright, you were met with an empty corridor.

Frozen in place, you ignored the dull ache growing behind your chest. The gnawing feeling in your mind as you debated on running up after him. Worried that it would give the wrong message after you spent the last few days all but begging him to quit.

You couldn't get the sight out of your head, out of your heart. The flash of hidden agony in his eyes, emotion covered up by extrovert tendencies. Making sure everyone else felt alright and was doing fine, as a coping mechanism?

No. This is not up for speculation.

"Johnny, wait" you called, jogging down the hallway to go find him. "Are you okay?"

Without stopping, he turned his head and shrugged.

"It's just my face, bonnie"

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja

[elephantshoetoo]

Excerpt from "The Drawing Board":

(Chapter 7 of The Byler Files, vol. 3, by ElephantShoe. Now posted on AO3.)

(Everyone returns to their various research materials, reading quietly, with only the sound of Robin tapping a pen on her folder to infiltrate their thoughts. Side by side on the floor, Mike snuggles up to Will, resting his head on Will's shoulder. He sighs with contentment, a dreamy, far-away look on his face.)

MIKE (softly, to Will): Petunia.

WILL: Hmm…?

MIKE: That's what we should name her. 

WILL (glancing up from the sketchbook): Are you…? Uh... Wh-what? (Will sits up, eyeing Mike curiously.) Wait – you're… you're serious, aren't you? 

MIKE: Yeah. I mean, I know it's not happening now… Or, anytime soon, but… (He shrugs.) someday. 

WILL: Oh. Okay. Yeah. (He smiles tenderly at Mike and nods.) Petunia. I like it. 

MIKE: Yeah…? 

WILL: Yeah.

MIKE: Cool. We could call her…Pet? Or… or Toony? 

(Chuckling, Will leans in and kisses Mike's forehead, beaming at him with a goofy grin.)

MIKE: What…?

WILL: You're adorable. 

MIKE: Am I?

WILL: ‘Fraid so, yup. 

MIKE: Well, you're pretty cute, yourself. Especially now that you've got that… (He waves his hand in a circle towards Will's belly, grinning.) healthy pregnancy glow. 

(Laughing, Will pushes Mike over in retaliation and leans on him.)

MIKE (teasing): Hey, hey – no roughhousing in your condition, mister.

WILL (digging his knuckles into Mike's side): I'll show you my condition! 

(Mike shrieks and grabs Will's hand to stop the knuckling, pulling Will down on top of him while drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. They pause, lips mere inches apart, the electricity palpable. And then, passionately, they start kissing, because of course they do. The others all stare at them, then at each other, not altogether sure how to react to yet another impromptu make-out session.)

NANCY: Do we need to separate you two? (No response.) Hello…? 

WILL (still kissing): No… we'll, mmm… get back to work.

(They don't.)

NANCY: Today…? 

WILL: Ummm… sure. Soon. 

MIKE (still still kissing): Uh-uh. 

(Stubbornly, Mike locks his arms around Will's torso, refusing to let go.)

WILL (to Mike, chuckling): We'd, uh… we'd better stop before she gives us detention or something.

MIKE (holding on tighter): If it's detention with you… I'm willing to risk it. 

WILL: Babe, we do have a lot of work to do…

(Will wriggles free and locates the sketchbook that got kicked aside in the scuffle. Mike sits up and pouts, arms crossed.)

MIKE (to Nancy, sulking): Are you happy? You've corrupted my boyfriend. 

WILL (rubbing Mike's arm in commiseration): Just… think of it as one more thing I can make up to you later. 

(Will raises his eyebrows and bites his bottom lip temptingly.)

MIKE (perking up): Ooh, okay. 

(As Will goes back to perusing Henry's written thoughts, Mike gazes contemplatively at the whiteboard.)  

MIKE: Hey, I know what this drawing board needs…

(He gets up, grabs one of the dry erase markers, and sets to work. In the bottom left-hand corner, Mike doodles a little stick-figure drawing of two boys kissing – one with a bowl cut and the other with dark shoulder-length curly locks – surrounded by hearts and stars. Will looks up from the sketchbook, swooning a little as he watches Mike admiringly. He thinks to himself, “God, that boy is wonderful. And also, somehow… mine.” He smiles, overflowing with gratitude. Noting the doodle, Nancy makes a face.)

NANCY: Oh, because that's pertinent to the investigation…

MIKE: It is! That… (He points at the drawing.) is the very heart of why it matters.

ROBIN: He has a point… 

💙💛💚

Happy Byler Files Friday, everyone!

[fascinatedscrawls]

Phic Phight Prompt: Kwan starts a poetry club and invites everyone at school to the first monthly poetry slam. Some unexpected poets show up.

Word Count: 1881

For TheSilentBard

Summary: When Kwan revives the old poetry club he gets a bigger crowd than expected. Danny's sure no one is going to forget this meeting, especially not Mr. Lancer.

The club room is full to bursting, students - some excited, but most reluctantly - occupying each of the cheap chairs scattered almost haphazardly around the place. Slouched in one of the back corners, Danny watches Mr. Lancer pick his way through the messy array of seats to get to the front of the room with a dead-eyed stare.

"Excuse me, pardon me, please don't leave your - oof!" The teacher trips and nearly falls, barely catching himself on the back of a chair instead of braining himself on it and all Danny can muster the energy for at the sight is a slow blink. "Lord of the Flies, Mr. Baxter! Do be more careful with where you rest your feet!"

Closing his eyes even if he knows he can't sleep here Danny hears a snort which could only come from Sam. Technically, unlike him and Tucker, she isn't required to attend the club session for a chance at extra credit because she's acing the class.

"It hasn't started yet." Tucker points out helpfully, stylus still tap tap tapping away at his PDA. "You could leave. If you actually wanted to."

The teasing barb hits its mark once again and Sam slouches further into her seat with a tsk.

"I'm here to watch how hard this bombs." In her pause for emphasis, Danny can almost hear her rolling her eyes. "I haven't wasted fifteen minutes of my afternoon just to leave before the show even starts."

"So you admit that you're attending the new poetry club for fun." Tucker snipes, smile clear in his voice. There's a scuffle over Danny's head as Tucker ducks whatever Sam threw in retaliation. Used to it and too tired to participate, Danny slumps down until his head is resting on the back of his chair. The smooth plastic is uncomfortable and his spine is already protesting at the angle, but pushing himself back up is just too much work.

Now at the front of the room, Mr. Lancer speaks to Kwan at a volume that's likely a little louder than he thinks. Or, Danny grimaces as something else flies over his head and Sam hisses, it could be some kind of ghostly hearing he's developing.

Ancients he hopes its not that, but it would explain why he's finding it so hard to sleep these past few nights. Even for the evenings without ghostly visitors he's barely getting a couple of hours at a time. He opens his eyes to glare at the injustice of it all, which looks a lot like the pockmarked ceiling of the club room.

"Now, we're all very excited to see the old poetry club get enough interest and funding to finally return after over a decade with no members," Mr. Lancer says catching Danny's attention and likely repeating himself for what must be at least the third time if Kwan's disinterested smile is anything to go by. Two encouraging pats on his shoulder courtesy of their teacher twists his smile into something closer to a grimace for half a second before it settles into a more natural expression. "I know you had something in mind for the first meeting and hopefully, by offering that extra credit today you'll see membership continue to improve. However, if things go off the rails you can count on me to help with your inaugural meeting."

The words would likely be more comforting if someone didn't yelp in the back of the room just as he said them. Wincing, Danny closed his eyes at the loud noise before a tingle at the back of his throat made him straighten up abruptly. Eyes wide and far more alert than before, he stares open mouthed at a handful of ghosts calmly floating in through the closed door, drifting towards the front of the room without any care for who might be sitting in their way.

Another aborted scream or two rings out before Mr. Lancer even has a chance to turn to address it with a, "Edgar Allen P-"

The last of the English teacher's oft stated and highly creative use of the famous poets name as an epithet cuts off in the face of the man himself.

Or more accurately, the ghost himself.

Mr. Lancer coughs behind a hand, clearly having a hard time believing his eyes. At least a third of the room is on their feet, but when the ghosts do nothing more than mutter to each other they clearly start to relax. After months of ghost attacks and at least a few weeks of less dangerous hauntings happening all over town it looks like most of his classmates are willing to risk a sudden, potentially dangerous turn around in an attempt to earn a few more free points for class.

"Poe?" Mr. Lancer finally manages to squeak out. He looks ready to faint as the ghost nods a greeting (the ghostly raven on his shoulder doing the same, pulling a snicker from a few people around the room including Tucker), but holds it together with a gulp as he straightens his tie.

"Shakespeare, Poe, Dickinson, Frost - what do you know," Sam mutters as she identifies more of the ghosts on stage than Danny could have managed. It's no wonder she's actually passing the class. "Maybe this won't be so bad after all."

"How," Mr. Lancer visibly swallows back his nerves even as his hands shake. "How nice of you to join us. Will any of you be participating in our poetry readings today?"

"Yes. As always, we're here to share our works -" One of the ghosts (is it Frost or Dickinson? Wait, Danny corrects himself, he's pretty sure Dickinson is the lady actually) says before getting interrupted by the raven.

"Evermore!"

The ghost sighs at the spectral bird, but they clearly expected the interruption as they don't comment on it. Instead they go back to consulting with the ghost beside them, quietly discussing which poem they'd like to read today if their only faintly indistinct mutters are anything to go by.

"Delightful!" This has absolutely made Mr. Lancers day if not his whole month judging by his wide smile. He turns the slightly manic expression on Kwan who flinches under the force of it. "Perhaps we can hold off on your planned presentations until after our guests have, ahem, graced us with their works?"

It sounds less like a question and more like an order, especially when Mr. Lancer doesn't even wait for a response before motioning Kwan to a nearby seat.

Danny relaxes into his own with a light sigh of relief as the scattered conversations around them take on an edge of awed excitement. Not a fight then. Huh, he's actually not sure why he thought there was going to be one when clearly these ghosts are just here to indulge in their obsessions. 

He quickly puts the thought out of his mind and settles in to hopefully enjoy a performance straight from the horses mouth (maybe that will be what finally helps him understand iambic pentameter), which means he jumps along with half the students when the door gets kicked in.

"Freeze, ecto-scum!" Two white suited men shout in what has to be a practiced synchronization of words and poses. Both of them have ecto guns in their hands. Hilariously, neither of the  blasters are pointed anywhere near any of the ghosts.

"They should probably take off the sunglasses." Sam snarks, now on her feet and sounding more relaxed than her tense posture displays.

"But without them they'd just be odd wedding ushers." On Danny's other side Tucker eyes the GIW agents with all the suspicion they're due.

"I think they'd be just as blind either way," Danny points out, sliding his chair a little further back in case he needs to disappear behind his friends. It's looking more likely.

Or it is before Danny gets a look at Mr. Lancer's face.

Danny has done many things that his teacher does not approve of. He's missed class, forgotten homework, fallen asleep on his desk, and even attempted to cheat on his exams, but never before has he seen Mr. Lancer look like this. Instinctively, he finds himself hunching his shoulders in an attempt to make himself smaller, less noticeable, in the face of someone clearly ready to rain hellfire upon their enemies.

The GIW are making an attempt to aim at their foes only to find themselves blocked bodily by one enraged vice-principal.

"Gentlemen," Mr. Lancer grinds out, frowning hard enough that Danny starts to wonder if the expression hurts him to maintain. His words are polite, but the tone is very clear: he doesn't hold even an ounce of respect for these invaders. "Our poetry club was just about to start. Please see yourselves out if you plan to be disruptive."

The white suited agents protest loudly, but it's abundantly clear that between Mr. Lancer and the students who were excited for a chance to hear from the masters (or possibly, just very invested in this afternoon's extra credit) that they won't be capturing or shooting any ghosts today.

That's good, because Danny's too busy trying to slow his heart rate down after he finally noticed Sidney Poindexter hovering just behind his shoulder. It took Tucker pointedly clearing his throat and Danny's pretty sure he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of the glowing teen.

"I see you've found the Dead Poets Society," He pushes his glasses back into place with a bland look in the face of Danny's weak glare. "I had wondered where they got to when they missed our usual club meeting."

"They meet regularly?" Danny asks, but doesn't get more than a nod in response before Sam cuts in with a question of her own.

"Why at the school? I'm sure there's other good places to meet."

"I invited them and offered it as a neutral ground." There's a pause as Danny shares a look with Sam and Tucker, all of them imagining the circumstances behind some famous poets needing specifically 'neutral ground' to meet on. Danny winces as he suddenly remembers every bruise or worse that he's gotten since ghosts started visiting Amity Park's very clearly not-at-all-neutral ground. Sidney ignores their silent conversation, not looking away from the ghosts quietly arguing at the front of the room. "It certainly made the poetry club less repetitive, so I've let the weekly meetings continue."

"So what you're saying," Tucker grins as the door to the classroom is slammed shut and locked, muffling the indignant agents' argument, "is that we're definitely in for a show."

"Well, I could imagine worse ways to spend my afternoon." Arms crossed, Sam settles back into her chair and, following Sidney's example, ignores how Tucker's smile somehow reaches new heights of smugness.

"Well, at least it will be an interesting extra credit assignment."

And maybe, if he's lucky, it'll be a reoccurring one. Danny could really use the extra help passing any of his classes. Besides, if the stars in Mr. Lancer's eyes are anything to go by, Danny wouldn't be the only one checking in on the poetry club's weekly meetings from now on. Danny might as well get some extra points for keeping an eye on some positive ghost-human interactions.

[nescaveckwriter]

Bundled, Broken Maybe Healed (Part 2)

Prompt: Bundled up in blankets - will be in bold,😱

A/N: YAY! My third one for @badthingshappenbingo 🤭, Okay y'all, this chapter is intense, I'm not kidding.. we find more out about Meredith's past and its traumatic okay... So good luck...😱💓❤️

Warnings: 18+ Only! Some language, blood and gore, normal Criminal Minds stuff, going into depth off crime scenes etc, drug use,torture, anything else I missed let me know💕

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Dr. Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, JJ, Emily Prentiss, Meredith Lang.

Cover: Created by me. Also images from Pinterest and Canva.

Words:3000ish 😅

Chapter Name: Bundled, Broken, Maybe Healed? (Part one) (part two) (Part three)

something, the pinch between my toes was horrible, but the pain didn’t last long, no! I saw these little bits of spiders coming from everywhere, I tried my best to smash them but I couldn’t due restraints, it was scary, the spiders I mean, I never was a fan, I’m not sure how long it lasted, but it felt like I wanted to crawl, get out of my skin, out of my body. So when my first high came down I was back in the cage, watching how he would drug Hope,’ she paused, looked at me and said ‘no! He , Never did touch us, you know… I guess we could be thankful, this was clearly not a sexual thing,  more sadistic, he got off on our fear.’ I looked at her, this teenager who went through something horrible, and I realised that she is one intelligent human being, she profilled this man, without any experience, so she looked at me “you know, what one day, I will find Hope, and I will find the collector and I put him behind bars, make him suffer the way we did.’ I knew right then and there I needed to call Jason Gideon, maybe her healing journey starts with justice. And as the days passed and she spoke, of her time, that  everyday he’d do it over and over again, how he broke in the girls, to listen too him, too obey him, every order, he’’l train them like dogs, to fight each other, and how she did not participate in it, she’ll let the others beat her up, even Hope in the end started to beat her up, but that day she broke down, she sobbed, not because she felt the pain of her best friend turning on her, no, but because she couldn’t save her, she couldn’t stop him, from brain washing her, from ruining her, she looked me and my heart shattered, her words tore through me ‘if only I could help Hope be strong enough, he would’ve thrown her out just like me, I tried, I tried to talk to her, to make her strong, but nothing work’ she clenched her fist, ‘The collector got rid of me,because of  not listening I was bad for his business, no one wanted buy me, hell I don’t even think he advertised, but he tried to make me fear him,, and internally I did, but I didn’t show it, he would starve me for, days, I felt weak, at first but after a while, numb…  so one day he pumped me full of drugs, and I remember thinking, this is it, finally I’ll overdose and this nightmare will be over, till today I remember feeling, cold like really cold, and I wrapped myself in blankets and it didn’t help, by now I was so used to seeing the spiders, that I would talk to them, I knew they weren’t real, but to me, they we the only familiarity that I had, so I felt comfortable with, them.’ she gave a humorless laugh ‘Now, I’m probably never getting out of here doc am I?’ I smiled and told her that I understood, but really how could I? I have a feeling she deliberately skips parts, that’s too painful to tell over, or she’s afraid that she’ll scare someone, she is highly sensitive but she doesn’t show it, she hates feeling vulnerable, the moment she’ll feel scared she lash out, but at the same time she’ll care about the people around. She trusts no one, in one of our sessions she disclosed that she doesn’t even trust her parents. Sometimes I try to press that subject, but she’ll ignore it, saying ‘one time thing doc’ and start talking about something different.