#i didn’t pick up obviously but i googled the number

[possession1981-moving]

got a scam call from NORWAY of all places

[pandulce135]

Hi hi! Can I ask for Donatello x a fem reader who finds out this normally goofy and bubbly cinnamon roll is actually really smart, but has been hiding it because she's worried that people won't like it? Can either be friends to lovers or established relationship, go wild!

Notes: It's been a month but I finally did it! I really did my best here, I kind of struggled but like, I hope I can get at least a 3.5 stars out of 5 haha. I'm gonna start naming my fics like early 2000's FOB songs starting now.

Warnings: reader labeled as 'stupid' and 'dumb,' acceptance of a negative role, reader looked down upon, not really proofread, lmk if I need to add anything else.

Word Count: 1.8k

~~~~~

So Smart, So Dumb: The Role That Was Given

You bounded into the Lair of your turtle friends. A soft smile was planted on your lips as you made the walk through the dim and, quite frankly, disgusting sewers. Not that you would expect them to be clean by any means. Just a few years ago, you never imagined yourself taking frequent walks through the underground tunnels of trash water to get to your friends. Now you knew these tunnels like the back of your hand, not that you’ve made it all that obvious.

There were subtle things you did that made both your book smarts and street smarts nearly unknown to your friends. Mikey seemed to be the only one to begin to pick up on your small habits. How you always hung around in the middle of the group when walking through the sewers but knowing where each path led, your seemingly limitless questions about Donnie’s tech and the Hidden City, how you even asked questions to no one just to realize you knew the answer all along, and how you knew completely random fun facts. You even Googled a large number of ‘how to’s recently. Sure, there were things here and there that you genuinely didn’t know, but now you had the reputation of ‘pretty and pretty stupid.’

Less work for your brain when in life or death situations. That was arguably the smartest move of all- to work smarter, not harder. You nearly laughed when you thought that.

It may have bordered on manipulation, but what the turtles and April didn’t know won’t hurt them.

It wasn’t long until you finally made it to the Lair. The opening that held the boys’ huge skate ramps and was their general hangout spot held three of the four turtles. You spotted Leo lounging on the beanbag reading a comic, Raph was doing a set bicep curls on his bench, and Mikey was laying on his plastron and doodling away in his sketchbook. The youngest was the first to notice your arrival.

“Hi, Y/N!” He smiled his big goofy smile in your direction, which caused your own smile to grow.

“Hi, guys!” You waved enthusiastically.

“Y/N! What are you doing here?” Raph put down his dumbbell with a grunt before turning to face you.

Leo chuckled, his eyes not moving away from the comic. “They’re obviously here to see Donnie.” The smirk in his voice was as clear as day and you couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh. Your hands flew to hold onto each other behind your back as you rocked back and forth from your toe to your heel.

“He said he needed help with something he’s working on.”

There was a pause before all three of the turtles in front of you bursted out laughing, halting your movements. You watched as they laughed at the thought of you actually being of use to Donnie. Sure it was an assumption on the situation, but there’s not much else it could be.

They finally finished, each of them wiping away a stray tear. “Hardy har. I’m glad I could be amusing to you boys, but I have to go before Don starts spamming me with texts.” As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your back pocket. You pulled it out and looked down at it. Sure enough, it was him. You faced the screen to the boys. “That’s my cue! Have fun doing… whatever.”

You entered Don’s lab just as another message was sent through to your phone. “Don, I’m here,” you announced with a chuckle, which caused him raise his head from what he was working on on his desk to you.

“I heard you speaking with my brothers, but I needed you here urgently.” He was suddenly standing and moved away to focus on a few pieces of material on the table behind him. Some thick pieces of metal.

“My normal job?”

“Yes, your normal job.”

Your normal job was handing him the tools he asked for. When you first started this for him he assumed you would know nothing about the tools he was working with. He was shocked when you were able to differentiate the phillip screwdriver from the flathead and star. At that point, you had earned the title of ‘the dumb one’ but said you were willing to help him. No one else volunteered so he cut his losses and allowed you to help him.

So, you made your way over to his desk to sit down on his massive chair. You were the only one allowed to sit in it. It was like a reward for helping him out.

“So, whatcha workin’ on?” You asked as you spun around in the chair in half circles, bouncing side to side with the help of your feet as stoppers.

“Oh, only my next big scientific advancement. Once I finish up this bad boy, I’ll be the next Einstein with my own Nobel Prize!” Donnie exclaimed, holding out his hand for a tool. “The drill please.” You spun in your chair to grab the drill off of his desk and set it to the forward option. You pressed the trigger twice quickly to make sure it functioned before handing it to Donnie.

His response didn’t answer your question, so you looked down at the construction drawing on Donnie’s desk. It was for the piece of machinery he seemed to have his mind set on building. It didn’t even have a title. A glance at the materials and measurements made you furrow your eyebrows.

“Don, I don’t think your measurements are right. Are you sure you measured everything correctly?” You asked, not moving your gaze away from the paper. You started working on your own measurements on the sheet of material next to you.

Donnie produced a loud gasp from somewhere behind you. “You dare doubt my measurements?” He sounded utterly shocked and nearly betrayed. “Scoff! When will you learn, I am always precise and correct when it comes to such-”

“You didn’t take into account the actual width of the material in your measurements,” you cut him off to show him the numbers you produced. You noted how his eyebrow twitched and how his stance stiffened as soon as you spoke over him. “Sorry I cut you off, but you probably wouldn’t have let me show you otherwise.”

Upon processing your words, Donnie let out a breath and loosened up. “Fine, let me take a look.” He snatched the papers from your grasp peered down at them. His eyes narrowed at the one with your measurements before widening slightly. “Wait a minute.” With movements so fast you could hardly register them, Donnie grabbed a measuring tape to measure the width of the material. “Holy mackerel, you’re right!”

You laughed at his reaction. “Don’t act so shocked, Don. It was an easy mistake to fix, and an even easier one to make. I’m glad I was able to look it over.”

“You act like you’ve made the same mistake before.”

“Adding measurements together in a workshop environment is difficult sometimes,” you sighed but you shot him a smile anyways. “But you’re doing amazing, sweaty.”

“Oh, shut up.” He couldn’t help but smile at your words. You noticed how you seemed to have such an effect on him. “You’re a lot smarter than you let on.”

“Yeah, that’s the goal.” You laughed as you leaned back in his chair and he furrowed his drawn on eyebrows at you.

“Wait, wait, wait… what?” He dropped what he was working on. “You were just acting stupid this whole time?”

“I have a reputation to uphold. ‘Pretty and pretty dumb,’ right?” You began swinging your feet back and forth. You noticed as Donnie tensed up again. “You guys aren’t able to stay quiet about anything.” You laughed out again, but it was obvious that is was more forced. “Plus, it’s just easier to do as told than come up with any plan in a life or death situation. It wasn’t that I was like, playing you guys or anything. I was just… filling in the role you guys gave me. I think I did a pretty good job.” You gasped. “Oh, I could totally be an actor, what do you think?” You looked at him with raised eyebrows and an expectant gaze.

“What do I think? I think you’ve had plenty of opportunities to show us how smart you are and prove us all wrong! Why on Galileo’s good Earth would you not do that?” Donnie nearly shouted and you frowned. “I, personally, would not stand that!”

“I’m not you, Donnie,” you stated blankly, a firmness taking hold in your voice. Donnie grew physically uneasy. “The reputation stuck. I didn’t want to deal with the aftermath of such a revelation. Especially now. It’s easier to just… let you guys think I’m a silly, goofy idiot.” You ran a hand down your face. “Let’s be honest, it was so much easier for me, the most.”

“Oh…”

“Oh,” you mocked. “It’s such a shocking revelation that I’m decently smart, I know,” a sarcasm seeped its way through your voice as you leaned your elbow on the arm of Donnie’s chair. Your head rested on in your hand. “Let’s just… get back to work on your ‘next big scientific advancement.’” You turned in the chair to face the tools again.

There were a few seconds of silence before he spoke up. “No.” You sat up straight at Donnie’s word.

“What?”

“Let’s do something else.”

You turned around to see the materials that were supposed to be used to create scientific greatness were all discarded on the table that was now behind Donnie. He stood in front of your sitting form and planted both hands on the arms of the chair.

“How about pizza and a movie? My treat.”

You raised an eyebrow as you stared up at Donnie. “Really?” You suddenly smiled. “You sure it’s not just an apology?”

He pulled away from the chair and turned to the the side with his arms crossed over his plastron. “Psh, as if… maybe… it is…n’t.”

“Oh, Donnie!” You gushed as you clasped your hands together, most of your negative emotions left in few seconds of the past. “So you can be thoughtful!”

“Hey, I’ll show you thoughtful!”

“Really?”

“Let’s just go, you dum dum,” Donnie grumbled out with flushed cheeks before pulling you out of the chair and dragging you out of his lab. “And yeah, I guess it’s my way of saying sorry,” he muttered, holding onto your hand with a tight grip as you followed him.

Your soft smile returned to your lips. “Thanks, Don.”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Spencer's Choice

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: angst, reuniting long lost love, heartbreak, impossible choice to make

Summary: Breaking up with Spencer is the hardest thing you've ever had to do. You left and returned years later, only to run into him again. Feelings return that you thought were gone. Spencer has a choice to make: you or his family.

Square Filled: goodbye letter (2021) for @cmbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Ah, back in your hometown. You miss the way the sunshine feels on your skin even when the wind blowing is almost at freezing temperatures. You miss the way the cars sound as they’re rushing down the road as a reminder that people need to leave earlier when it comes to this town. You miss the small-town feeling of everyone being so close-knit that you can check up on your neighbors and see how they’re doing every day.

You miss home.

You haven’t been back in the United States in a little over a year, and back in this town for much longer. Ever since you left after you graduated, you really haven’t looked back. It killed you to do so but you were on a mission to better people’s lives with your degree and experience. You’re a very skilled architect who has been involved in many unique projects all over the world. It’s been one big adventure that you love having. You’ve met genuinely good people, tried amazing and unique food, delved into different cultures, and got to experience what others only dream about.

Now you’re just glad to be back in your hometown, relax, and spend the money you’ve been saving for years.

You walk down the familiar road next to the park you used to go to after school every day with your friends. There is something brown in the middle of the sidewalk but upon closer examination, you see it’s a child’s teddy bear. You pick it up in hopes there is a name or a number you can call, but the only thing you can find is an address. Weird. Most people don’t put their addresses on kids’ toys but who are you to judge?

With a quick Google search, you find the address is only two blocks from where you’re at. This is your chance to be a good samaritan and return the bear to a child who is probably missing it. You find the house easily and walk up the porch steps. You knock on the door and wait only ten seconds before it opens. A young girl about the age of seven is standing there with sad eyes.

“Hi, does he belong to you?” you ask and produce the bear.

Her eyes light up happily when she sees the toy. 

“Thank you so much!” she squeals and grabs it from you.

“Marissa, what did I tell you about answering the door without your mother or me?” you hear her dad say.

You look up and lock eyes with the only person you’ve ever been in love with: Spencer Reid. You two were high school sweethearts back then, and it was clear to everyone at that school that you two were going to end up together for life. You were in love with him so much and wished you could have stayed, but it broke your heart to break up with him.

You have always wanted to be an architect even when you were younger. Your parents got you Legos that you could build houses from, and you’d build all sorts of different houses with different rooms for everything a person could need. When you got to your junior year, you applied to different colleges for architecture which also included colleges outside of the United States. Never in a million years did you think you’d ever get into those colleges but your mother encouraged you to apply.

Four months before graduation, you got an amazing offer to study at UCL in London with the opportunity to be an intern side by side with one of the most famous architects at that time. What an amazing opportunity, your mother told you. Yes, it was but there was one thing holding you back: Spencer.

It started one of the biggest arguments between you two. It lasted for months leading up to graduation. He obviously didn’t want you to go since you’d be in a different country, but he didn’t want to be the only reason why you’d stay. You wanted to go because this would be an amazing opportunity for you, but you didn't want to go because you didn’t want to leave him.

It took months to come to a decision but Spencer convinced you to go. Long-distance relationships never work out for anyone, and you didn't want to put Spencer through the pain of not seeing you every day or being with you. Breaking up with him was and still is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

You’ve had a few flings over the years that never meant anything because none of them were him. It took a really long time to stop crying over him. Now, seeing him right in front of you is bringing all those fights, that love, and every conversation you’ve ever had with him back. It’s a bit overwhelming, to be honest, and you step back to ground yourself.

Marissa looks up to see her dad looking at you with the same look you’re giving him.

“You don’t look at Mommy like that,” she observes.

“Why don’t you go inside and play? I’ll be right there,” Spencer says distractedly.

Marissa looks at you and goes inside to play with her teddy bear. Spencer steps outside and closes the front door for some privacy.

“I can’t believe you’re standing in front of me right now.”

This isn’t a good idea. You’re going to start crying because the truth is, and you’ve tried so hard to bury it, you’re still in love with him. If you don’t get out of here quickly, the patch over your heart is going to tear and you’re going to start bleeding all over again.

“I’m sorry. I can’t be here right now. I have to go.”

You turn around and walk down the porch steps, but Spencer jumps toward you.

“Wait.” You turn to face him and he sighs in frustration. “I have to get Marissa to the doctor. How long are you in town for?”

“As long as I want. I’m in between projects right now.”

Maybe the reason why you told him this is for the false hope that you two can resume right where you left off.

“Please don’t leave. Please meet with me for coffee tomorrow morning. You remember Jack’s Cafe, right?” How could you not? It’s the place where you and Spencer had your first date and first kiss. “My number hasn’t changed if you still have it.”

“I do,” you whisper.

He never changed it in hopes that you’d call it. You got home after parting ways with him and cried yourself to sleep. Seeing him again after all these years is reverting your mind back to high school graduation. You’re not much better the next day. When you wake up, you decide you’re not going to meet Spencer and just leave. However, when you look at past messages between the two of you on your phone, he deserves this meeting. You deserve to catch up with him.

You rush into the coffee shop knowing you’re late. Spencer is sitting at the table you two used to sit in every single time you went here.

“I thought you weren't going to show,” he says when you sit across from him.

“Honestly, I almost didn’t.”

Spencer slides a coffee over to you and you catch it to prevent it from falling. Just based on the smell alone, you know he still remembers your coffee order.

“How have you been? Any interesting projects you’ve been on?”

You don’t know if the small talk is good or not. It’s to distract you from the real issue but you welcome the distraction.

“Yeah, I’ve done some work in third-world countries with nonprofit organizations. We’ve built homes for people, homeless shelters, and enclosures for animals who are suffering and endangered.”

“That’s amazing. I’m really happy for you.”

“What about you?”

“I pursued my career in the FBI. I have been a profiler for many years. I’m retired now and get to teach others before they go into the academy.”

“Retired? You’re still so young. What happened?” you ask and sip your coffee.

“I went to prison for a couple of months for a crime I didn’t do. It messed with me mentally so I decided to take a different approach. I’m still involved with the FBI just as a teacher.”

Once you two get into the groove of talking, it’s like no time has passed. You’re laughing and having a good time with him as if you didn’t break his heart all those years ago. You’re falling in love with him all over again.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Just like that, you’re back to how you were feeling before. The laughter dies off and you pick at the ends of your sweater.

“No. I haven’t had a steady relationship since--” You stop yourself from saying it out loud. He understands what you’re trying to say. He reaches over and grabs your hand. As soon as he makes contact with your skin, you quickly pull away from him. “You have a family.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You look happy.”

“Yeah, I am.”

His words tell you one thing but his tone tells you something completely different. There is a longing in his eyes that suggests he would drop everything in his life if it meant he got to be with you.

“I’m really happy for you,” you say with tears in your eyes.

“Y/N…”

“I shouldn’t have come here. You have a wife and daughter now.” You drop your voice to a whisper. “I’m too late.”

You’re already out the door before Spencer can process your words. Not only was coming to this coffee date a bad idea, but coming back to your hometown where Spencer also lives was an even worse idea. The projects waiting for your involvement will have to come a little earlier than planned.

You hate doing this to Spencer but you write a letter explaining how you feel about him and this whole situation. Once you’re done, you head to his house hoping he isn’t going to be there. You walk up the steps and notice something in the window next to the door. Spencer is sitting on the couch next to his wife and she’s comforting her. About the botched date? About you? About something else?

Damn it. Why did she have to be gorgeous?

You stick the note in the door and swiftly turn to leave. Spencer sniffles and looks up to see your long hair flowing in the wind. At first, he thought he was seeing things but then his brain caught up to the rest of him. By the time he walks out there, you’re already gone. Your note sways to the ground so he picks it up and starts reading it.

Spencer, 

I am so sorry for the way we left things all those years ago. Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and hurting you was never my intention. I love you with all my heart and wish things had ended differently between us. You have a family now that I never wanted to disturb. I kind of thought by coming back here, I’d be reminded of what’s really important. Seeing you after all these years did just that. I don’t want to hurt you now, but I’m leaving. I’ll be accepting other projects that need me, and you can continue to be with your family. I wish you the very best.

Y/N

Spencer can’t let you go this easily without letting you know how he feels. He tells his wife he’s going over to Derek’s house but ends up going to the biggest airport in the state. It’s the airport that has the most flights coming and going so you have to be here. He doesn’t know which flight you’re going to get on so he buys a ticket for one of them and hope for the best.

He rushes through the entire airport in search of you, wishing you hadn’t gotten on one of the airplanes yet. He’s sweaty and disheveled but determined to find you before you board. He runs around the corner and scans the many gates with people boarding their planes. There at the far end of the building is you. You’re in line to get on the plane.

“Y/N!” Spencer yells.

You don’t hear him and move up in the line. Spencer breaks out in a run in hopes of getting to you in time. You hand the attendant your ticket so she can check you in. She doesn’t question the dried tears on your cheeks as she does. Once finished, you grab your ticket and walk onto the bridge.

“Y/N! Wait!”

Spencer runs past everyone and tries to get onto the bridge but the two attendants posted there prevent him from going in.

“Sir, you need to wait in line like everyone else.”

“Please, I just have to talk to her.”

“Sir, I can’t let you on there without a proper ticket.”

“Y/N!!!” Spencer screams to get your attention, hoping you’re not too far away. He waits agonizingly for you to show up. He’s about to yell again when you come around the corner with tears in your eyes. “Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

“Spencer,” you gasp. You leave the bridge and take him off to the side. People stare but go about their business to give you two some privacy. “What are you doing here?”

“Please don’t leave.”

“But your family--”

“Please don’t leave. I can’t bear to watch you walk away again. I let you go once. I can’t--refuse--to let you walk away again.”

Spencer grabs your face and kisses you like he should have done all those years ago. You get lost in the way he’s making you feel so you kiss him back. It feels so good to feel his lips on yours again. He feels like home. The image of him and his wife pops up in your head, and you pull away from him with tears streaming down your face.

“What about your wife? Your daughter?”

“I don’t know but please don’t leave. I love you.”

He’s only here because of the feelings you drudged up. He was happy before you came back into his life.

“I can’t do this right now. I have to get on the plane.”

“Please don’t get on that plane,” he begs.

“Miss? Are you getting on? We’re taking the last call,” the attendant asks.

“Spencer, I have to get on the plane. They’re waiting for me.” You step away from him even though it kills you to. “You have a family now. Maybe if I never left before, things might have been different. I can’t do that to them.”

You hand your ticket to the attendant even though she allows you to go through. Spencer watches you get on the plane, and the attendant shuts and locks the door behind you. Spencer has a very important choice to make:

Does he go back to his family and pretend this never happened or follow you? Stay with what’s comfortable or follow the one woman who has always made him feel alive? Her or you?

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[adalwolfgang]

helo. how about yandere once-ler/greed-ler x meowscarada reader?

for example, arrange everything in such a way that the reader first helps the Lorax to drive him out of the forest, and then it becomes all the same to her - for why repeat the same thing if the deed is done?

And I beg you PLEASE not in idiotic scenarios like: a yandere dummy killed, kidnapped and raped, but something original from you and what do you think.

I don't care that it will be a one-shot or a headcanon just from you)

I know russian, but I write with google translator lol

Onceler x Meowscarada!Reader head-canons

A/n:I’m sorry for the wait, school is ending soon and I’ve been busy! I use google translate sometimes as well haha! Anyways, since I’m not familiar with Pokémon I had to do some digging to get an idea of how to write you the reader so I hope this is sorta what you wanted and if not please let me know and I’ll try and adjust this!

Warnings: none I can really spot in this except once-ler and greed-ler are the same person. I don’t see the point of making them ‘different’

(Image found on Pinterest, I don’t own it)

This wasn’t what you had in mind when you agreed to help an old friend of yours. The Lorax.

Currently you were sitting by a truffula tree observing as barbaloots pick up this man’s bed and trying fitting in through his door. The Lorax explained his plan to you a day before, how he would put him in the river so he would float away. The Lorax didn’t like this man due to his habit of wanting to chop down all the trees.

The reason you were there was in case anything go out of hand. Like for example the barbaloots couldn’t lift the bed, or the man wakes up? Anything really, that the Lorax needed extra assistance with.

One day later..

The Lorax’s plan didn’t go as well as he thought it would. A young barbaloot was still on the bed as it drifted down stream. Luckily you saved both the barbaloot and the man since the current accidentally pushed them into the rapids where the waterfall was.

After that night of you saving him, the man you now know as ‘once-ler’ kept trying to talk to you. Problem being everytime he tried to make conversation, you would disappear if he just blinked. At first it freaked him out but he soon got used to it and tried to find ways to get you to stay around longer.

The Lorax kept getting frustrated with the once-ler. Even after all his warnings and tricks. Then when he noticed bean-pole trying to make conversation with you, that really made him mad. He didn’t want you falling for this idiots charms and advances so he tried to keep you away from him as much as he could.

Greedler era..

This was bad. Really bad.

The once-ler was losing it with greed. It got so bad to the point where you and the rest of the animals living in the truffula forest started calling him greedler.

You and the Lorax tried warning him but he wouldn’t listen. He even offered you a position. One you couldn’t refuse. Stay by his side.

“How about it? I’m the richest man alive! I’m making millions everyday! I can get you anything you could ever want!”

It scared you how much he changed in such a short time. You missed the old once-ler. But after trying to change his mind for so long, you started giving in.

What was the point? He obviously wasn’t planning on changing his ways anytime soon. All the truffula trees kept lowering in numbers. You felt hopeless in the situation.

After awhile of staying with the once-ler after finally agreeing to his proposition, you stopped trying. There wasn’t no point. It wasn’t as bad though either. He treated you like a goddess. Pampering you with gifts and trying best to his ability to make time for you. Which brings you to your current state.

“Don’t ever leave me. Please..” he would say as he cuddled close to you in bed. He almost sounded like his old self when it was late and you two would be cuddled into each other. Until the sun rose and he had to get back to work that is.

I hope this was close to what you wanted! 🫶

[maybeimamazing]

So my dad had a big collection of model cars and I am trying to get rid of them. I reached out to someone on Marketplace that said they buy, sell, trade that sort of thing to see if they were interested. They asked for pictures and we negotiated a price that was kind of a low ball, but honestly I didn’t care because I want them gone. Then I asked them if they knew anyone who bought a different size of the cars and they said they sold those too at their business and would be interested. I sent pictures and they wanted those too. Great! We set up a day/time for them to pick up and they didn’t show. And when I tried to message them, they no longer exist on FB. Now, the whole time the messages from them were 100% normal and no red flags whatsoever. They sent me their home address and business address if I wanted to drop them off, or they offered to come to pick them up. We only messaged on Messenger and they never asked for money or even my phone number. The only personal info I gave was my address, which is public info anyone could find anyway. Obviously it was a scam of some sort, but I’m struggling to see how. What did they gain from it? They didn’t get the items nor any real info from me. I’m puzzled. And annoyed because I hate these cars so much and want them gone. What am I missing? What was their angle? I checked out the addresses they gave me on the county auditor site and the names match what they gave me. My best guess is they had second thoughts and deleted their FB account instead of just telling me they changed their mind. I mean, seems extreme. A Marketplace offer isn’t a legally binding contract or anything, I would have just been like, no problem! I even googled common MP scams to try and figure it out and nothing. So weird.

[ozmatippetarius]

The Nembutal wasn't Henry's first attempt to poison Charles

Pretty late in the novel, Charles shares that Henry gave him a bottle of Nembutal capsules; Richard immediately recognizes this as a poisoning attempt and is horrified. (If you google "nembutal alcohol", like I did when confirming my understanding for this post, every result that comes up is a suicide hotline: that's how well-documented this interaction is.)

This isn't Henry's first attempt to poison Charles, though, although it's the first one recognized by the characters. Charles's "infection" that lands him in the hospital is. This one is a lot better planned-out and executed, and as a result is a lot less obvious to everybody. At this point Charles's mental health is in such a bad state that it's easy to believe that he could land himself in the hospital through poor self-care alone. I'll call out below a number of points that are pretty damning to Henry, though, from a narrative standpoint.

The hospital can't diagnose Charles's illness, and it resists treatment.

The doctors couldn’t figure out quite what was wrong with Charles. They’d tried two antibiotics over the course of the week, but the infection—whatever it was—didn’t respond. The third try was more successful.

If you've ever heard anything about poisoning cases, this will sound familiar. Even today, "It is difficult to determine whether a patient has been poisoned and, if so, what toxins caused the poisoning."

Henry discourages Richard from bringing Charles to the hospital.

After Richard picks up Charles, he tries to call Francis, who isn't home. Afterwards he calls Henry and is surprised when Francis answers the phone. Francis is clearly uncomfortable.

“Francis? What are you doing over there?” I said. “Oh, hello, Richard,” said Francis. He said it in a stagy way, as if for Henry’s benefit. “I guess you can’t really talk now.” “No.”

When Richard explains the situation, before Francis can give any sort of response, Henry takes the phone.

“Did you give him some aspirins?” “A few minutes ago.” “Well, then, why don’t you wait and see. I’m sure he’s fine.” This is exactly what I wanted to hear. “You’re right,” I said. “He probably caught cold sleeping out of doors. I’m sure he’ll be better in the morning.”

I'm obviously not suggesting that it's criminal for somebody to say the answer to a fever is "give him an aspirin, wait and see". I am suggesting, though, that narratively it's suspicious that Henry has apparently coerced Francis (the one person we know would be certain to say "go to the hospital") to come to his place, where he is clearly uncomfortable for reasons that are never explained to us, and takes the phone before Francis can make that recommendation.

Henry had opportunity to acquire poison.

“I mean,” he said, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, “that strictly in terms of virulence there are any number of excellent poisons, most of them far superior to this. The woods will be soon full of foxglove and monkshood. I could get all the arsenic I needed from flypaper. And even herbs that aren’t common here—good God, the Borgias would have wept to see the health-food store I found in Brattleboro last week. Hellebore, mandrake, pure oil of wormwood.… I suppose people will buy anything if they think it’s natural. The wormwood they were selling as organic insect repellent, as if that made it safer than the stuff at the supermarket. One bottle could have killed an army.”

Henry had access to poison Charles.

Just days before Charles ends up in the hospital, Henry has been in his apartment moving Camilla out. The novel actually goes out of its way to remind us of this, and call out that Henry has had his hands not only on Camilla's things but on Charles's that were left behind, by telling us that when Richard goes to the twins' apartment, "The place was ominously neat." (We've been previously told that both of the the twins are quite messy.)

Henry had motive to poison Charles.

Just a reminder: Charles and Francis were 100% not involved in the farmer's death, and serve as each other's alibis. I've written about this elsewhere, but I think it's clear that Camilla implicated herself intentionally to protect Henry (believing that Charles would never go to the police to report Camilla, when he very much would have reported Henry.)

We know that the twins' estrangement begins during the visit to the Corcorans' for the funeral. Francis speculates that Charles learned about Camilla's relationship with Henry during this time, and Richard is reminded that Cloke told him about a conversation between Camilla and Henry that he overheard on the phone, while Camilla thought he was asleep. Richard never gets more details of this phone call from Cloke, but Charles (who spent this entire visit hanging out with Cloke) certainly did.

I feel certain that whatever it was that Cloke overheard and shared with Charles was badly incriminating, and exposed that Camilla had been disingenuous about her involvement in the farmer's death. Imagine how shocking and awful that would have been for Charles to learn: instead of having participated in the murder of his friend to protect his sister, he actually did it to protect a man he actively hates.

I mean, this isn't jealousy. This is a more deep-rooted anger about a very serious betrayal.

“Have you talked to my sister?” he said to Francis. He said it in a very cold way, as if he were saying Have you talked to my lawyer? “Yes,” Francis said. “She’s all right?” “Seems to be.” “What does she have to say for herself?” “I don’t know what you mean.” “I hope you told her I said go to hell.”

(And I mean, if you do think that Charles is just jealous about their relationship here... this actually becomes quite funny. He was expecting Camilla to have spilled her guts to Francis about having left her incestuous relationship for another lover? Absurd.)

Anyway, this is all to say: at this point Charles is furious and no longer has as much reason to shield Henry for the farmer's killing. He's now a liability who could go to the police at any time.

This conversation between Richard and Henry while Charles is in the hospital.

As he said this, he trailed away. “There,” he said at last. “Does that look all right? Or do I need to open it up more in the middle?” “Henry,” I said. “Listen to me.” “I don’t want to take off too much,” he said vaguely. “I should have done this a month ago. The canes bleed if they’re pruned this late, but better late than never, as they say.”

[theknightmarket]

Howdy, if you don’t mind can I have some gender affirmation with either Google, Dark, or Engineer?

I’m not sure if my parents would support me as genderfluid and if you’d like can you use she/he/they and use more masculine terms (prince, handsome etc.)

"You're the most handsome person I've ever seen."

In which Google helps a gender-fluid partner.

TW: None

Pages: 8 – Words: 3,500

[Requests: OPEN]

Ever since Google had been activated, going through the routine checks has been awkward, to say the least. Making sure that code reached where it should and all the wires and boards were okay was a lot easier on your mind when the place you were digging through wasn’t simulating breathing – now, not only was the chest moving up and down at a steady pace, but glowing rings of blue also watched ever twitch or shift of your hand. You couldn’t blame him, it was his cavity you were fiddling with, but you just wished that he’d look somewhere else when you were doing it. 

After a good ten minutes of him not redirecting his attention, you retracted your gloved fingers, trailing a small pair of tweezers, out of the box and into your lap again. A normal surgeon would have placed it onto a plate, but Google’s stomach was sterile and clear of any fluids, so you just threw it back into your toolbox. Like always, a hand darted in afterwards to readjust where it had landed. You rolled your eyes but let Google do so anyway. Who were you to stop him when you’d take advantage the next time you had to check him?

As he shuffled through your tools, you pushed back in your swiveling chair. It pushed your desk back slightly at the contact, landing you right in front of your setup; a laptop, mug of probably-now-cold coffee, and a half-uneaten sandwich that was supposed to be your breakfast. Eh, you’d save it for later, maybe lunch if you were hungry by then. 

The only other thing that was set on your desk was an old mirror from back when you were a kid. It was the single thing that you had saved from moving out of your parents’, and the only reason you did was because of all the memories kept inside of it, like a little time-capsule that only you could see inside. The times that you glamoured yourself up with your mom’s beauty-kit, the dozen-more that you stole your father’s buzzer to pretend you had a beard, and the once or twice that you cut your own hair. Those had garnered a visit to the hairdressers because you were 8 and obviously unskilled. You couldn’t count on two hands the number of styles you’d gone through, and, even now, as you stared into the slightly dusty surface of the mirror, you weren’t content. Disappointment fell out of you in the form of a sigh, and you tilted the metal frame away from you.

“Is anything wrong?” 

You perked up in your chair at the sound of Google’s smooth timbre. Whoever chose that voice sure did know what they were doing, and you had to commend yourself on the eyeball aspect, the very same that were looking at you with a concerned expression. 

Running a hand over your head, you replied, “I’m thinking of getting my hair cut.”

Google’s response was quick, as was him marching to stand in front of you. He tilted his head to the side – a quirk he had picked up from a movie session to teach him about emotions that unfortunately ended with Airbud – and pointed out, “Your last visit was on September 28th at 3:07 PM.”

“So?”

There was a pause and then he pushed, “That was two weeks ago.”

You didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. Plus, it would be a waste of time if you were going to get it changed a couple weeks over, anyway. Almost shamefully, you sighed, “Thanks for reminding me,” before opening up your laptop to the home screen. Might as well get some work done to get your mind off it.

However, Google spoke up as you were typing in the password, catching your attention. “Although, if you believe that it will make you more comfortable, the positives out way the negatives.”

Glancing up, you saw the android sitting on a stool next to your desk, the swirling of his irises bringing you confusion. It was normally a sign that he was looking something up, or accessing his data bank for a prior instruction, neither of which you had prompted him to do. This left you raising an eyebrow and wanting to delve into his code to find this new bug. Maybe it was a feature of his autonomy, you could only assume so when he started to speak again. 

“The most suitable appointment for you would be at 10:30 AM on October 15th at Orlando’s Parlor. This would allow for an hour-long period between the meeting with David Martial and breakfast with Maria Laine, with a fifteen-minute journey from—” 

“Hold on, Google,” you laughed tiredly. None of that information went into your head, and, luckily, it didn’t have to. “I’m not going to book an appointment.” 

“Your previous statement implied—” 

“I know!” you cut him off again, which you could see was getting on his nerves if the bending of his eyebrows was anything to go from. “You said it yourself, I just had one, and I’m gonna be swamped with work for the next couple days.” You rose from your seat and patted his thigh as you left for the door. Absentmindedly, you called back to him, “And don’t worry about the breakfast, she got sick with the flu, so it’s been taken off.”

With that, you let the door swing closed behind you, leaving Google sitting in the room with a single question and two choices on how to solve it on his mind. 

The click of your cart along tiles was oddly comforting as you pushed it along the supermarket’s floor. Outside of the stress and duties of your now day-to-day life, doing chores seemed like a godsend. The people around you didn’t have to deal with stuffy directors or life-changing androids living in your old garage. You loved Google to death, but you couldn’t deny that it was nice to be simple for once. 

Skimming the aisles like a lazy tiger, you picked up anything that you would need for the coming week. With all the meetings you’d be rushing to, you didn’t have time to make dinner each night, so microwaved meals would have to do. Google didn’t eat, anyways, but you appreciated him sitting with you at the table, even when he had a particularly interesting crossword puzzle to get to. You chucked to yourself, no doubt receiving odd looks from civilians, as you compared him to the little ladies who sat outside the local tearoom. Surprisingly, they might just get along if you gave them ample fodder. 

But that was a subject for another time. Right now, you were drawing close to the end of your shopping list, as well as the supermarket itself, where the cashiers were situated. For the last few weeks, the self-checkout machines had been busted, and, no matter how many times you offered to fix them, you were always denied for legal purposes. So, that left you and the rest of the shoppers making awkward conversation with the people serving you, hoping that they’d scan a little bit faster just so you could stop hearing about their tabby-cat! 

You grimaced, spotting the very same person who constantly lectured you about Alexander at the head of one of the lines – though it seemed life took pity on you in that moment, as you were directed towards somebody you knew and actually liked. 

You unloaded your cart onto the track, each item standing straight and then immediately collapsing, much to your chagrin. When you reached the end of your stock, you stood by the cashier and waited. 

“So, what’s it today?”

To anyone unaware, Lance may have appeared as, quite frankly, terrifying. He was a big, muscled dude-bro, with the cliché backwards cap and tattoos lining his arms. You were surprised he had a birth certificate and wasn’t ripped directly from 90s style coming-of-age movies. He looked the epitome of the name ‘Chad’, and, yeah, his style of speech might have suggested that. On the other hand, the first meaningful conversation you’d had with Lance led you a very different way. 

Lance was a sweetheart, a complete 180 from how he was physically. His voice was gruff, but he had been the one to teach you how to sew and – Jesus – his hands were soft, but you were getting off-topic. Either way, he was a nice guy, and he had just asked you a question. 

Trying to laugh off your slight hesitation, you answered, “I’m feeling… masculine, I think?”

Lance nodded and resumed scanning. You’d give him a call later, catch up on how the family’s been when you got the chance. A busy life meant you had no time for a social one – and that was partially why you enjoyed being with Google so much. You could be working for hours on end, and he’d only give you trouble when he thought you were overworking, and, even then, it was no more than a nudge and a stern look. He stuck with you while you went about your business, staying in the background and fiddling with anything that caught his eye. It was always a pleasant feeling when someone stayed, and for that someone to be an android like him? It was nothing short of amazing. 

When Lance had finished sending everything your way to pack into spare bags, you waved him goodbye and heard him mutter a small, “Have a good day, sir,” as you exited through the sliding doors. A little pep in your step, you made it to your car. 

“Google!” you yelled, closing the front door behind you. He has free reign of the house, regardless of whether you were home or not, though he often preferred to stay in the study where you worked. When you received no answer, you assumed he was there. 

You practically danced down the hallway towards the room, trailing a hand along the wall and feeling the grooves of the paper on your fingertips. The music reached your ears before you were fully aware that you were the one humming, but you continued anyway, until you reached the study. 

Too caught up in the moment, you forgot your normal knocking and twisted the handle. Scrambling, clanging, something crashing to the ground – your lopsided grin melted into concern as you pushed the door open, now more out of fear than excitement, which then shifted into furrowed eyebrows and confusion when you saw what was before you. A set of wires pulled out of the sockets splayed across the floor was the first thing you noticed, then a pair of scissors lodged in the metal of your desk, and, finally, Google himself, collapsed across the ground like a baby giraffe. 

His name fleeing your mouth as you rushed to his side, you thought about what you should do. First, check how he feels, then figure out if anything was physically wrong, and then maybe you’d have time to ask what the hell happened. 

You dropped next to him and hoisted him into sitting up straight with one hand; the other scrambled frantically for your toolkit, which had, luckily, not been put away yet. Your mouth ran on autopilot, asking him question after question without giving him space to answer. Meanwhile, your own thoughts converged on you – you should have been more careful with him, you shouldn’t have let him around scissors, maybe you should move him to another room where he can’t get hurt—

It was only Google’s cold hand that snapped you back to the moment at hand, quickly followed by his concerned gaze. You could have laughed considering he had been the one to fall, but you merely nodded gently that you were alright, and went about checking over his circuits and heels, for fear that it was a balance issue. Google, was, after all, pretty bulky for a machine. 

When the rudimentary checks had been passed, a stable mindset returned to you, and you managed to finally look up to him. Now that the fear had been washed away, Google himself swapped his priorly-worried expression for a more sheepish one. This had you raising an eyebrow. Why would he of all people be embarrassed? You weren’t even sure you had programmed that emotion in, and, yet, there you were, kneeling beside the very android who sported a shimmering blue ‘blush’ along the metal bridge of his nose. An exciting discovery, sure, but one that had you confused rather than zealous. 

“Google?” you mumbled, applying concussion-protocol to a damn robot, “What were you doing before I came in here?” 

The blush deepened and spread to the rest of his face like a virus, but that wasn’t the only development found in that moment. Instead, alongside the whole blushing thing, was both a weird and amusing show. 

Google tried to lie. 

“I was… well, you see, I was trying to, uh,” the sound of fans whirring faster and faster, so fast that you though they’d shoot out of his chest, met your ears, “There was—well, I remembered an order that I, eh, failed to complete before and thought I might…” 

As much as you loved to tease Google when the time was right, this was not such a time, and you were pretty sure those fans were going to shatter if you didn’t stop him soon. So, with a soft smile on your face, you shifted into a more comfortable position and patted Google’s thigh. 

“You know, you don’t have to lie to me,” you spoke gently, “if you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine, I just don’t want you hurting yourself over it.” 

There must have been something in your words – the tone of your voice or the way that you looked at him – that had him reconsidering this whole deceit nonsense. It wasn’t anything big anyway, but there was the quiet fear that you wouldn’t be happy with what he was doing that knocked at the back of his mind. This was something he wanted to do for you, and, although he would accept it if you denied him, he couldn’t say he would be apathetic. It was a thing he expressed often, or lack of a thing, but he wanted to do something special for you to show you how he felt. Words weren’t his forté, but actions? He could do actions. 

“Do I have your permission to blindfold you?”

If you were an android, you would have short-circuited. A little humor for a situation that sent your heart attacking your ribcage like a feral dog, you could do little else than nod slightly and let Google lift you up by the arms and guide you towards your spinning chair. You sat with a blush of your own steadily sprawling across your face while he inspected the room. When he had found what he was looking for – an old rag you’d only used for cleaning dust – he returned to you and pulled it taught over your eyes. 

“Apologies, dear, but you mustn’t see.” 

Briefly, you nodded, and, within seconds, the light was covered by total blackness, with only the occasional flicker of gray at the edges of the fabric. It wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but you couldn’t help some anxiety when Google’s presence faded away. Your main sense removed, you relied on your ears to understand that he was stepping away towards the discarded pair of scissors. This set off a rational amount of alarm bells, though you calmed yourself with deep breaths; you could trust Google, you did trust him. If he wanted to go all robo-apocalypse on you, he wouldn’t have asked permission. 

So, as calmly as possible, you stayed there and listened to his movements. He stepped closer, then stepped away, then closer again, he seemed like he was nervous about his actions, but, in your blinded state, you could do no more than stick out a thumb to assure him. It was when the whirring of Google’s chest picked up that you felt something shift. A tendril of your hair skimmed the back of your neck, sending you forward slightly from the shock. The fans whirred louder, an unconscious question of which you answered with a small laugh and nod. Confidence brewing with every second, he continued his work. 

Without the distractions that came with sight, you were forced to think for the moments that you were blindfolded. Most of it was, admittedly, about what adjustments you’d have to make to Google for him to be safe. You loved the android and you wanted to give him as much choice as possible, but it was harder to be okay with his being alone when there were so many dangers in the lab. Maybe you should suggest he stay upstairs for the time being? It was much more comfortable with all the cushions and rugs, in contrast to the mass amounts of countertops jutting out of the walls here – and you’d get to see him in your downtime, show him some of your favorite hobbies. 

Oh, but would he enjoy it? He liked to stay in the study, that much was certain after the first couple months of autonomy, even though you had yet to figure out exactly why he preferred it. If you could find out what is what, then you could either remove it from the lounging space or mimic it there depending on the reason, unless it was something that you couldn’t change, in which case it would all be futile—

A cold hand, a humming chest, soft words whispered to you, “Are you alright?” 

You took a deep breath; you trusted Google. He would be fine alone down here. It was probably just a one-off thing that wouldn’t hurt him in the first place. 

With that thought, your mind drifted off into simpler things. A few strays contributed to the night’s dinner and movie, a couple more to calling Lance, but the majority wondered what your beloved robot was doing behind you. His metal feet had stayed there for the better half of an hour so far, making you think what exactly was keeping his attention for so long. Your hair swept side to side in an irregular fashion, though Google’s touch was so, surprisingly, light that it felt like the wind. Was he watching something? Just playing? And why did you have to be blindfolded in the first place? 

All of these questions and more came to effect when the fabric twisted and moved. Like a child on Christmas morning, a giddy feeling overcame you when you were greeted, once again, by the look of your study. It was entirely unchanged, and you were given a wider view to the indifference when you were spun around to face your desk. 

That giddiness was replaced entirely by shock, followed by a minute of pure awe as you fiddled with the strands of your hair. You didn’t know how to describe it, but there was a stark difference between now and before. The texture was the same, a few hairs had been lifted and some removed entirely, but there was… something. Something that felt safe and good, and, frankly, correct. 

“What do you think?”

You leapt out of your chair without a second thought and wrapped your arms around Google’s shoulders. He looked surprised, the lights in his eyes beaming slightly brighter for a second, before they returned to a pleasant shade of blue. He patted your back tenderly and held you tighter in relief. 

Grinning, you answered, “I love it!” You pulled away for a second to plant a kiss on his cheek. “What do you think?

Your feet barely scraped the ground, dangled in the air by Google’s hold, but he still managed to curl a hand around your jawline. “I think that you’re the most handsome person I’ve ever seen.”

The blush that swallowed you was incessant, though you were able to lay another kiss on his lips for the compliment. This was before he swept you up in his arms again and manually moved you towards the door. “Come on,” he spoke bluntly, like he had already explained to you what was happening. When he looked down to your confused expression, he continued, “My primary objective is to make you feel comfortable. Today, I am doing that,” his eyes darted over yours, as if searching for a preemptive reaction before finishing, “my prince.”  

And just like that, you could see the day before you. You ended up at dozens of clothing stores, bars, food trucks throughout the day to the point that you weren’t sure if this was a memory yet. However, no matter what had happened, will have happened, is happening, you felt safe and comfortable with the thought that things would be just a bit better from now on in your heart.

[Sorry this took so long, and it’s shorter than normal so I might also write this prompt for Dark and Engineer later, but for now, I hope you’re okay. Also, I completely get the whole parent thing; I, myself, am non-binary, and I was sure my parents would not be okay with me, but I told them in a letter, left the house for a bit, and came home to a hug. So, you never know, but if you truly don’t feel like coming out to them, it’s fine! Just know that the internet will always be there for you, no matter what!]

[gettingreallyintobeatlesyaoi]

Day 5 of reading Beatles RPF

On our way back home by Kathleenishereagain || 5/56

Reading a chapter while my laundry gets dried (and hoping the dryer actually works today XD)

Though, first things first, I feel I should mention that thanks to @indiekidsupremacist and @the-bluebird-you-need, I now know that not only is there one Beatles movie, but multiple! I think I'll need to put time aside to watch them at some point. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. When reading Beatles fanfiction, watch Beatles movies. For research purposes. Obviously.

In the meantime, I did think of something else I could do. A few songs have been mentioned in the fic so far, and it seems a little silly to go on like this without listening to their music. How can you understand why people are fans of a band without hearing what the band's most known for? So, I picked the first one the fic brought up, "I Feel Fine".

This was so fun. The song itself is great (and catchy. Yeah, that's going to be stuck in my head for a week.) And at one point in the music video, one of them (the comments say it's Ringo) just?? gets on a bike?? and stays on it the rest of the song?????? Brilliant, fantastic, no notes.

Anyway, we're here for fic, and I absolutely have to share this passage that made me look away from my phone for a minute and just absorb it.

He did not have anything to tell him that he actually could say, anyway. Sorry I was an absolute wanker to you. Sorry I didn’t try to talk to you sooner. That I didn’t make more effort to patch things up between us. Sorry you died. I miss you. I have missed you for almost 40 years and I will never stop missing you. Seeing you so young and clueless is more painful than you could ever imagine. Talking to you makes me want to scream. It makes my head turn with happy fireworks and my belly burn with grief. He could not say any of that.

Just. Holy shit. That struck hard and fast, and the rest of the chapter didn't pull any punches either. I'm a huge fan of time travel related angst, so it's like this was tailor-made for me. With every chapter, I'm drawn more and more in.

(I think I mentioned before that I started this blog on a whim, half-joking. Not disrespectful, I should hope, as I didn't want to come into a fandom I'm not a part of and make a mockery of someone's hard work. I'm genuine in my desire to experience this and understand what draws people to it (and I suspect, will become a fan myself in time), but I won't lie and say I didn't come into this with preconceived biases about RPF. Which, to be honest, was a little hypocritical of me. Don't laugh, but my side projects are mostly Supernatural fanfiction, and I can see how easily someone might approach that with the same feelings I did this, whereas I, on the inside and putting my heart into it, take it very seriously. So, solidarity there, I think. We are all weird guys on the internet writing heartfelt love letters to things that matter to us.)

It's still fascinating to me getting little crumbs of knowledge, some of them devastating, chapter by chapter. I expect someone fully immersed in the history of the band and each member would take these in stride, facts they already know well, but some of them really throw me for a loop. The one this chapter was a mention that Paul didn't go to his father's funeral, or couldn't go. It wasn't specified why, and it's a drop in the bucket of this chapter, but it stuck in my mind nonetheless.

Oh, and I have a solid grasp of the distance between London and Liverpool now. The fic said a trip between the two would take about four hours by car, and Google provided me the helpful number of 354 kilometers. (Or, in American, for me, 220 miles.) That's further than the distance I used to go to visit my Grandpa in Mississippi.

[jow99]

A few small trials

Tuesday dawned wet and cold. Unfortunately our plan had been to buy something for the grave of Mums family today so we were out in the wet and cold for a bit. We bought a flowering pot plant which fitted into the flower holder and it looked really nice. Mum was really pleased so it was a productive morning.

We went back to Wetherspoons for a reviving coffee before heading over to David’s for the afternoon. We have noticed him cheering up every day. I feel bad that our time here is almost over.

Another quiet night in our AirBnb, enjoying the last of my English television.

Wednesday dawned much nicer. Mum and I were up early getting ourselves organised. Our first stop was the cemetery where Barbara’s funeral was and where her ashes will eventually be scattered. None of us knew that they wait a month before they scatter the ashes in case the family change their mind (it’s obviously happened before). It was still nice to see where she will be and the chapel where the funeral was held.

Next we picked up David and went to Wetherspoons for breakfast. I hate to admit we’ve been into Wetherspoons at least once each day we’ve been here 🙄 Anyway we had a nice breakfast and then it was time to drop him home and head back to the airport. It was rather heartbreaking saying goodbye.

We then had a rather fraught time getting out of Ashton. It was quite busy and Google Maps kept telling me to turn across traffic. Eventually we were out, petrol tank filled and on our way to the airport.

Getting through security and even onto the plane was a complete dog’s breakfast, not an experience I’m in a hurry to repeat. The icing on the cake was the delay in our plane taking off because “they didn’t have the machine that was needed to start the plane” 😳 I wasn’t the only one to snicker at that.

Finally we were back in Barcelona with a lot less time before the bus than I had bargained on. Having purchased the tickets and believing I had sussed out which bay our bus was leaving from (I was worried about being in the wrong spot and missing the bus), we had time for a quick glass of wine before departure.

As we headed to the bus I though I’d look for our seat numbers only to discover that the “plaza” was our seat number not the bay 😩 I kept my head and we headed towards the ticket machine where I’d purchased our tickets (God forbid you could find anyone to ask). With great relief I saw a board with the buses all listed. It still didn’t show a bay number but I was feeling confident we were in the right place.

That was until the time came and went and our bus disappeared off the board. Now the meltdown got a bit more real, my worst fear had been realised. I then noticed another couple looking somewhat perplexed do in my Spanglish and their French I worked out they too were waiting for the L’Escala bus. We decided it had just been delayed, but by the time 20 minutes had passed we were all looking at the timetable for the next bus, which wasn’t until 12:00 the next day. It was then I spotted a bus turning in with the words Costa Brava on the side. I have never been so happy to see a bus 😅

Thankfully the trip home after that was uneventful and we collapsed into bed around midnight.

Meanwhile the time in Galicia is passing with lunches out and trips to Sarria, etc. They return tomorrow and I hope for them it is uneventful.

[ahmementos]

Hazards of The Job

I'm not sure if I'll manage all the prompts as real life kinda went wild, but I'll still write some for the rest of the month on a pick and choose basis.

Febuwhump Day 11 : Fever

Happy Ending On Ao3

You didn’t just have a fever, not in Leon’s line of work.  It was worse than a typical person googling their symptoms on WebMD.  You had to figure out when the last time you had a dangerous mission was.  You had to double and triple check your body for cuts or abrasions that looked infected in the worst way possible the doctors might have missed.  If you had a fever, you had to report it to work so their doctors could run a multitude of tests.  

When you already had a prior infection inside you, it sent you down a never ending spiral of dread and anxiety.  Your mind plays tricks on you.  You start to remember every pain you had when infected.  You cross reference the aches and pains you currently have with the ones you had over a decade ago that were as fresh as remembering what you did or didn’t have for breakfast.  

When you hear the front door to the apartment open up, you dread giving Chris that key.  “It’s a fever,” Leon groaned, too weak to do much else from his position on the bed.  “Get the fuck out.”

“You have been at a desk doing paperwork for a week and before that it was training at the on-site range.”  Chris brought in two bags of food that contained what looked to be soup containers.  “It is probably the flu that’s going around at work.”

“Got my flu shot,” Leon mumbled against his pillow.

“And we both know that shit doesn’t always stop it from happening.”  Chris grabbed the thermometer from the nightstand.  “Open up.”  

Leon didn’t fight the order.

“Don’t let that fall,” Chris added as he pulled out what was very clearly soup from one of the bags.  “If you turn into a zombie, I’ll shoot you, okay?”

Leon rolled his eyes; obviously taking his temperature was a tactic to shut him up, not that he had the energy to really sass him back anyway.

The electronic beep told Chris the temp was taken and he pulled the thermometer away and stared at the numbers.  “What was it earlier?”

“102.”

Chris nodded.  “It’s 100.9 now.  Our lines of infection to worry about run upwards to 104.”  He sat down on the bed and smoothed his hand against Leon’s warm skin.  “Unfortunately for you and your death wish, you just might live.”

“Fuck you,” he mumbled but allowed Chris to help him sit up against pillows.  “I feel like shit.”

“It’s a pretty bad flu this year.”  He dipped the spoon into the container and moved the soup closer to Leon’s mouth.  “You have to eat.”

Leon stared at the soup and the moving contents slithering in and out of the broth.  “It’s moving.”  He looked up at the drooling monstrosity that was definitely not Chris and was too weak to move.  “Jesus fucking Christ…”

*

“Leon, wake up!”  

The feeling of Chris’ hands on his shoulders jolted him back to consciousness.  “Fuck,” was all he could get out before he had to lean away from Chris and vomit.  Black liquid splashed against the broken cement he’d been sitting down on.  It may have been blood but the darkness of the abandoned sewer entrance made it all seem black.  Knowing his luck, it was black, which meant the infection had progressed to a dangerous point.

“Are you still you?”  Chris gestured to his side at the soldier who had a gun trained on Leon’s forehead to make him stand down.  

“Just kill me.”  It was jarring to be in one place then suddenly meet the glaring reminder that you were actually infected while on duty and waiting on an antivirus that might not even work.  They’d vacated the lab and found a sewer tunnel entrance just beyond the facility to keep Leon secure while a cure was located.  

Second time in a row, too, and Leon wasn’t sure his luck was going to hold for a second miracle.  Did he want to die?  No, but he also didn’t want to become the job, either.

The soldier lowered the weapon.  “Yeah, that’s Kennedy.”

Chris might have growled under his breath before he started removing enough of Leon’s jacket to have access to his shoulder.  “I told you,” he said softly.  “You aren’t dying today, damn it.”

Leon was sure he looked amazing, black liquid already drying against his lips and his hair plastered from sweat against his forehead.  “I was looking forward to it.”  He didn’t wince when the injection burned through his body; the fever cooking him from the inside out decided the antivirus just felt like a slight tickle.  

“Now we wait.”  Chris gestured for the soldier to guard outside the perimeter.  “I told you if it doesn’t work, I’ll handle it.  Go guard the entrance.”

“Yes sir.”  

Leon didn’t watch the soldier leave but the heavy boots signaled his departure.  Gravel shuffled in cadence with footfalls retreating outside the broken down sewer entrance they’d bunkered down in.  It left the suffocating presence of Chris Redfield’s overwhelming guilt and possible looming loss.  “I’m sorry.”

“Shut up, Leon.”  Chris had his handgun out but his other hand was holding Leon’s.  “You’re going to be fine.”

“I don’t want to be another loss you shut down over.”  Leon couldn’t bring himself to look at him.  He couldn’t stand to see those puppy dog eyes.  He didn’t want to recognize that impending dread lining Chris’ face.  “I can do it myself.”

“No one is doing anything right now.”  Chris didn’t outright sound defeated, but he sounded uncharacteristically quiet.

Leon’s fingers attempted to grip Chris’ hand tighter but he could only manage a light squeeze.  “This isn’t your fault, Chris.”  

They both knew he was going to blame himself, regardless of the outcome.  

“Just put a barricade up and go finish the mission.”  Leon tried to sit up and fell against the bricks for his efforts.  “I’ll either be recovering when you get done or I’ll need to be put down when you get back.”

“Mission is being handled.”  Chris tried to reach out and help him sit up but Leon shook his head.  

“Without the commanding officer.”  Leon swallowed down bile; he refused to vomit a second time with Chris sitting there.

Chris nodded.  “They can handle it.”

“You can’t handle this though.”  Leon managed to turn his head and finally looked at Chris.  “I don’t know if I can handle having to look you in the eyes if you have to put me down.”

“I can’t handle leaving you here, worrying out there if you are even going to be you when I get back.”

Leon forced his other hand to rest on top of Chris’.  “You’re an idiot.”

Chris almost seemed to relax at the insult.  “I love you, too, asshole.”

[xx-neon]

june 12th

hi 

i wanted to start writing because i feel like itll help me in some way, ive never really said anything i think or feel. i never really say anything at all. 

if for some reason someone who isnt me reads this im sorry. itll be a lot of word vomit and just generally unpleasant so maybe dont read all of it lol. im going to try and not use lol beacuse i do that to lighten the mood.

anyway.

yesterday before i went to work i had this really strange feeling. it was this weird sense of nothingness and everything? i feel like thats how people feel before they die. like a weird calmness. i felt comfortable and okay with everything. so i felt nothing really when i googled if hanging yourself hurts, i have a rope and everything but i just wanted to make sure i wouldnt feel any more pain. in my head i thought it would be kinda like a slap to the face if i wanted to kill myself because of the pain and then the last thing i feel is pain ha. 

anyway. i got really annoyed when all the results were for the suicide helpline. numbers to call, resources, texting lines everything. i just wanted to know. but then i gave up. as usual. 

all day yesterday i was just planning on when id do it. i wanted to pick a good day. i remembered that i have to clean my apartment first, make sure my cat is fed, but then my friends birthday is coming up and i wanted to wish them a happy birthday, and i had plans to hang out with my friend, and then after that i had plans to hang out with another of my friends. i realized maybe im too busy to die and i really didn't want to disappoint anyone. so i just gave up on that thought. (i did see my friends i was supposed to see yesterday, and this guy bought my food and drinks which has never happened before which was really nice) 

idk how i got here honestly. ive tried suicide before but obviously im writing so that didnt work. but before was different. i just went for it. i didnt think about it. i didnt plan anything i just went 1,2,3 go. i mean, i know how i got here. myself. if i wasnt such a fucking people pleaser maybe I'd have enough balls to be in a better place. 

my ex and i officially broke up last week, and thats kinda where it all started. i know it sounds stereotypical but i dont want to die because of the breakup but because of the feelings that came after it. i really wanted to break up. it was my idea in the beginning. but it took him forever to just say “yeah i dont have any feelings so this is it”. it was like my ego took a flip. ive actually have never had someone say that to me. that sounds really uppity i know. but its true. in my head i thought “after all i did for you thats how you end it?”. and i really ruined my life for this guy. i quit my old job i did hate it tho, moved away from my friends and family, he got into an accident so i used all my money to take care of him and had to take off work, drove him everywhere bc he couldnt drive, etc. and what did i get in return? he cheated on me twice, treated me like shit, slammed a door in my face so hard it broke my glasses, tried to hit me. the relationship was so bad all im left with is alcoholism and an eating disorder. so honestly, good riddance. 

he left me in a really, really bad place. i have to figure out where to live now since he just up and left. i dont have enough money to live on my own anymore. tbh i dont even want to write about it since it stresses me out so much. so i wont. ive just been drinking and going out to distract myself. not from him but like i said, the feelings that came after it. i want revenge, i want peace, i want him to apologize, i want him to never do this to anyone, and i just want to die. i dont have people to talk to about this stuff, i do but, i dont want to seem like an angry ex. i just want people to see the hurt that ive been through. i just want someone to tell me its going to be okay. that what i feel is normal. that people go through this all the time. i just want comfort. 

im sure if i actually told anyone about this theyd be like “but you have me!! you have your family!! you have people who care about you!!”. and yeah i do. but when youre so far down a hole, you dont see the light at the top, just darkness. and probably dirt lol. 

i cried for the first time today. since all of this happened i havent cried at all. my chest has been hurting so much since ive been holding it in. but the reason i started crying was kinda dumb. one of my old friends found me and reached out. he wanted to see how i was doing and what ive been up to. what was i supposed to say? “hey ive been horrible! just planning my suicide and and stuff ya know” but of course i couldnt say that so i just said ive been good. we caught up for a bit and thats when he said hes getting over a breakup that messed him up. so i took the bait and said yeah me too. he just said if you ever want to talk you can always call or text. so i just said thank you it means a lot and that things can only get better i guess. and idk why but thats when i started crying. he said 

“theres so much good to come” 

its so dumb but i felt like those words were just a giant warm blanket. especially with the head space that im in. obviously i could hear that from anyone. but hearing it from someone i haven't talked to in like 4 years meant so much more.

there are so many people who care about me. ive just been stuck dealing with my ex and only caring about what he had to think or feel. he never really cared about me like these people do. theyre concerned about me. they tell me to eat, they tell me theyre worried about my drinking, they dont want me to be out alone, they want to make sure im okay. 

so fuck my ex. fuck him and anyone who thinks hes a good person. hes such a manipulative piece of shit. no one really knows what ive been through. no one knows how hes left me. no one knows about the cheating. no one knows about the abuse. they know nothing. im sure hes talked about me. im sure hes told them how i have a hard time showing feelings. im sure hes told them.. i dont even know. hes probably pulled something out of his ass. and they probably feel so bad for him. i hope they do. and i hope one day they feel just as stupid as i do. 

i just had to get my anger out. 

but my friend is right i think. maybe there is good to come. ive decided to stick around to find out. 

[jackieshaunanat]

Some trans Max hcs because I have soiled my brain

Max has a severe phobia of needles, so obviously Laura, a literal to-be vet, does his t-shots for him and it’s so very... “Quit squirming, Max”  “I’m sorry can you just get it over with?” “I can’t get it over with if you don’t sit still” “Well I’m sorry b- OW! A little warning next time?”

If Laura isn’t available during their weeks at camp (i.e. she’s busy doing her job or something) Max gets Dylan to do them for him which is...just has nightmarish

Dylan repeatedly counts down but always does it at a random number so Max never knows when it’s coming, but Dylan isn’t as worried about precision as Laura so he doesn’t worry as much about Max squirming

Max got top surgery as a 18th birthday gift; his parents, Laura, and her parents all chipped in for the costs. He was very excited for the first summer with his scars as well, like insanely

One of the campers obviously asked about said scars but before he could reply, Dylan jumped in with some fake as hell story about Max fighting off a bear with his bare hands

Max didn’t even argue, just flatly agreed that’s what happened thinking the kids wouldn’t believe it until a few days later when he discovers a lot of the little kids believed it and started asking him about the fight and asking if he could beat Jacob in a fight too if he was strong enough to fight a bear

You can pry childhood friends/high school sweethearts Laura/Max from my cold dead hands so...Laura’s known him since long before his transition. She was a little confused and caught off guard when he came out, but they’ve always been there for each other so what else was she supposed to do? She goes super research mode and reads everything she can online from like medical and psychology articles to real life posts and blogs and books and stuff about trans people because she wants to be there for Max and understand what he’s dealing with and who he is as much as she can

She texts Max in the middle of the night asking about things he hasn’t even considered yet or about famous people he hasn’t heard of

She’s a little much when it comes to these things and her support and it throws Max off sometimes just how much she can be, but it means a lot to him that she cares this much and it gives him a really sturdy support system and someone to help him figure things out alongside him

It was definitely Laura’s idea to set up that first appointment for top surgery for his bday and even if she personally may not be loaded with cash, she wanted to chip in whatever she could into paying for it all

Laura probably also helped him pick a name, lotta baby name websites or pointing out names in movies or shows

Max was more or less a joke-y suggestion, but Max himself was also pretty confident Maximus from Gladiator was based on a real roman general and thought it was badass and cool

They had a whole discussion similar to the columbus one at the start of the game about Laura trying to explain that Maximus wasn’t a real person but Max swearing he was

Obviously Laura won, she googled it herself and showed the proof to him, but by then they’d spent so much time on the name and all and it just...stuck? He still liked it and now he had a nice real memory attached to it, it was the perfect name

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Además de inglés y portugués hay alguna mención de que idiomas Edward sabe hablar? Que hay de los demás Cullens? Al menos Carlisle me imagino que sabe un montón, pero a Esme y Emmet, por ejemplo, no me los imagino interesados en aprender otros idiomas 🤔

In addition to English and Portuguese there is any mention of which languages Edward can speak? What about the other Cullens? At least Carlisle I imagine knows a lot, but Esme and Emmet, for example, I can't imagine themselves interested in learning other languages.

Google Translate

We don't know the whole list, to my remembrance, it's never discussed in full. We do know that presumably all the Cullens speak Spanish.

Jasper, obviously, spent a good while in Latin American and Texas but we also have Edward and Emmett acing Spanish and noting that the entire family aces Spanish when they take it. Are they fluent? Who knows, but they're certainly good enough to breeze through high school.

Jasper probably speaks Creole, maybe French, depends how far and exactly where Maria was picking up her recruits. Whether he can read and write in these languages is a different story. Likely Spanish he does fairly well in, given taking it in high schools since taking up the Cullen cherade.

Otherwise, I imagine Edward learns French in order to be sophisticated. "French is a much chiquer language, parlez vous francais," - A Little Night Music, Stephen Sondheim. He would consider reading romantic French poetry in the original language an absolute must. He must be very good at Portuguese as well, as he speaks to a woman in a very rural area in great distress and understands her. Now part of this may be her thoughts but given he’s able to easily ask questions, I’m leaning towards he knows it fairly well and can certainly converse intelegibly. Given this, Edward is probably fairly decent at a number of languages and I can see him learning several to pass the time. Though which languages he’s proficient in and how many he keeps up to date with are unknown.

Carlisle, per his original occupation as a priest, would know Latin and given the time period/his education status would know French. In Volterra, I imagine at the time they were speaking French (the then language of diplomacy) as well as Latin (the language of the sciences). Carlisle likely picked up Italian per spending 20 years in Italy and I can't imagine him not learning Greek if he didn't know it already. He likely knows many more languages, given he was in Italy to study and was in Volterra so long, however that gets into headcanon territory of guessing which of these would be most likely so I’m not going to rattle them off.

Worth noting that of the many people he met on his own before the Cullens, he didn’t seem to have issue conversing with them, even when they were unlikely to know English.

Esme probably hasn’t had too much practice since she was human, but I can imagine she studied some French in her schooling days. Rosalie, too, might have been educated somewhat in a foreign language in finishing school or however she was educated to prepare to enter society. They both have had runs through education afterwards (Esme doing university supposedly) so I imagine some language happened there. Though, again, how good they are at it is anyone’s guess.

As you note, though, I can’t imagine Emmett knowing that many languages or Esme for that matter.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 1/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is. 

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: Family death, cancer, absent father, cremation 

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t. 

“Do you want to say anything before we…” the operator asked her.

“No,” Y/N answered quickly.

“Oh, my assistant forgot to give you this,” the operator gave her a shy smile as he handed her a small cardboard box.

She opened it to find all of her mother’s jewelry that had been on her body at the funeral.

“Thank you,” Y/N told him.

“Ready?” The operator asked.

He had been so kind throughout the whole process. It was obvious he was used to people breaking down and being extremely emotional. 

But Y/N had been stoic, almost concerningly so. 

Though he wasn’t one to judge. Everyone grieved differently.

With the pull of a handle, Y/N watched her mother’s body going into the chamber.

“It will be a few hours,” the operator told her.

He meant it will it will take a few hours for her mother’s body to burn to ash. Then they would hand her a tacky vase with her remains.

Y/N just nodded. “I’ll go for a walk.”

As soon as she was outside, Y/N called her mother’s executor.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I was just about to call you.”

“I’m at the crematory,” she told him. “I figured we should discuss the bills that still need to be paid for.”

“Yes, of course. As I mentioned to you before, your mother’s life insurance covers quite a lot of it…” his words died out.

“But it’s still not enough,” Y/N finished for him. “I’ll get the money.”

She wasn’t exactly rich, but she also wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck. But people never realized how much money it cost for loved ones to die. It was honestly ridiculous.

“You might want to consider taking out a loan,” he tried to suggest gently.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Another thing, Ms. Y/L/N. There was an envelope with a name on it. And your mother left instructions on delivering the envelope to them.”

She stopped her pacing. 

“What name is on the envelope?” Y/N asked.

There was a pause.

“Bruce Wayne.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed.

Of course she knew who Bruce Wayne was – everyone in Gotham did, as well as most of the country. He was a billionaire playboy, only making headlines when he was a mess. But every once in awhile his philanthropy would sneak in there. Y/N always assumed those were only to help recover his image and not because he was a good person.

“You still there?” The executor asked.

“Yeah. I’m just a bit confused. But please pass it along to him, if that’s what my mom wanted.”

“I can’t. The instructions specifically say for you to deliver the envelop to him in person.”

“In person?” Y/N groaned in annoyance as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Why did all of this have to be so god damn complicated?

“Yes. Her instructions are…oddly specific."

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll pick up everything from your office before the work day ends.”

——————

Y/N stared at the envelop that she’d tossed on her coffee table as she sipped a rather large glass of red wine.

She was wracking her brain trying to think of a time when her mom mentioned knowing Bruce Wayne. But Y/N would’ve remembered her mom saying his name – even in passing. It’s not a name that one can drop casually.

Y/N pulled up her phone and googled him. But she looked at his history. Yes, he was from Gotham, as was her mom, but so were 10 million other people.

But then Y/N’s scrolling paused when she realized they went to the same high school: Gotham Academy. Not only that, they graduated in the same year.

‘Were they friends?’ Y/N wondered.

But just classmates or friends still didn’t seem to warrant a handwritten letter to be delivered after one’s death.

Y/N didn’t open the envelope.

Her mother’s instructions specifically told her not to. And if she put in that much of an effort to get this done after her death, Y/N wasn’t going to ignore such a request.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Fuck,” Y/N sighed before throwing back the rest of her wine.

——————

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t grant you access to the building without your name being in the system by the company you’re visiting,” the building receptionist told her for the third time.

“I understand. But I called his office 30 fucking times and they refuse to put me through to him or get me an appointment,” Y/N practically growled.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I already called their office to say you were here and they didn’t recognize your name. I can’t let you through to the elevators.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the security guard who stood a few feet away. He was eyeing her now that there was clearly an argument going on.

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes. She had a good foot on him – even without her heels on. And he looked like he couldn’t run a 50 yard dash without passing out or vomiting. If he thought he was going to physically stop her, he had another thing coming.

“Listen, I am not some crazy fucking stalker. My mom knew Bruce Wayne and in her will she asked me to deliver this to him,” Y/N’s voice lowered and became disturbingly calm. “I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the security guard finally stepped forward.

“Oh, fuck off,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the rent-a-cop.

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” he continued.

“Call me ma’am one more fucking time…” Y/N growled.

But the security guard was taking a step to her.

“Excuse me. What seems to be the problem here?” A voice suddenly interrupted.

Everyone turned to see a young man – younger than Y/N – glaring at the security guard just as he was about to grab Y/N.

“M-Mr. Drake, we were just escorting this young woman from the premises,” the guard stuttered out.

Everyone at the building knew every member of the Wayne family. But unlike his siblings, Tim Drake was at the office almost every day. As one should be when they’re the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.

“For what reason?” Tim Drake asked.

“She insists on seeing Mr. Wayne. But she doesn’t have an appointment. For security reasons, I cannot let her through, obviously, unless the company she is visiting has put her into their system and the building’s system,” the receptionist explained nervously.

Y/N frowned as if she was bored of the whole thing.

Tim stepped forward. “May I ask what your business with Bruce Wayne is?”

Now that he was closer, Y/N noticed how exhausted he looked. He was handsome still, of course. But she wondered when he last got a good night’s sleep. He was shorter than her, probably standing at 5’5. And she still believed he was younger than her, which was wild seeing as he was already the CEO and couldn’t be older than 24.

Y/N sighed before she grabbed the envelope from her black leather satchel, and showed that Bruce Wayne’s name was handwritten on it.

“My mother wished me to personally deliver this to him.”

Tim tilted his head slightly. “Why isn’t she doing it?”

“Because she’s dead,” she shot back without emotion.

But Tim’s face became sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve assumed…”

“It’s fine,” Y/N quickly cut him off before he could continue.

She was so tired of being on the receiving end of people’s sympathy. It didn’t help. And the words stopped holding any meaning to her.

“But I’m sorry. Bruce isn’t in today. And he probably won’t be coming to the office for the rest of the week.”

“Oh,” was all she responded with.

Of course Bruce Wayne didn’t come to work. Why would he?

This was a stupid idea. And now she had made a scene because of it.

“But if you give me your information, I will personally let him know that you are trying to reach him.”

“Really?” Y/N asked in shock.

Tim smiled at her surprise. “Of course.”

“Here’s my card,” she quickly grabbed one from her wallet and then a pen. “All my info is on that.” She wrote something on the back. “And that’s my mom’s name.”

He took it from her and nodded. “What was your mother’s relationship with Bruce?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to figure it out. Apparently they graduated in the same high school class. But that’s all I was able to find.”

He nodded.

“Thank you…Mr. Drake. For your help. Really,” she urged.

“Please, it’s just Tim.” Then he glared at the receptionist and security guard. “For you it is, at least.”

“Thank you again,” Y/N felt like saying it 30 more times still wouldn’t be enough.

“You don’t have to thank me. Someone will be in touch. Have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” she corrected with a smile before she nodded and started backing away.

He smiled at her correction and gave a final nod.

——————

Y/N didn’t expect to hear from anyone for at least a week.

If the Wayne family was one thing, it was busy.

They probably had parties to go to, meetings to attend, private jets taking them around the world whenever they wished.

Why would they ever prioritize a meeting with her, a stranger?

So imagine her surprise when she received a call from an unrecognized number the same day she gave Tim Drake her card.

“Hello?” She answered.

Usually she would let any unknown number go to voicemail.

“Hello,” a British voice answered. “Am I speaking with Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she,” Y/N sat up straighter on her couch.

“This is Alfred Pennyworth. I work for Master Wayne and manage all his personal appointments. I was told by Master Tim that you wished to meet with him?”

“Uhhh. Yes. Yes, I do. Is that…is that possible?”

“Would you be able to stop by Wayne Manor on Friday afternoon?”

Y/N already knew she had nothing going on that would stop her from getting this done. But she still paused to pretend to think about it.

“Yes, Friday afternoon should be fine. Are you sure he doesn’t just want me to stop by Wayne Enterprises?”

It felt oddly intimate to stop by Wayne Manor. Wouldn’t they want to meet her in a more secure location like a corporate building with security that already hated her?

“He is quite certain. Should I send a car for you Ms. Y/L/N?”

A car?

Y/N felt even more out of her depth now.

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to meeting you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Thanks,” she answered before hanging up and realizing that probably wasn’t the proper response to such a polite goodbye.

——————

“I haven’t heard that name since high school,” Bruce had muttered as he stared at the business card for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Yes, and the end of your relationship did not end on the best of terms,” Alfred commented.

Y/M’s/N Y/L/N had been Bruce’s high school sweetheart.

An she had seen the last moments of Bruce’s normal life. 

Upon graduation, Bruce decided to leave Gotham and that’s how his second life was founded. The two of them broke up before the summer after graduation had even ended.

Well, “Breakup” was a strong word.

Bruce stopped answering her calls.

She was his first love and he continued to love her.

But once Bruce realized where his life was going and who he wanted to be, he knew he couldn’t drag her into it. She deserved better.

And Bruce was a coward about relationships then. Maybe he still was.

“I am certain you did a thorough background check on her already,” Alfred commented with a smirk.

Bruce took in a breath before listing off all of her accomplishments. “Y/F/N Y/L/N. Graduated number one in her class at Gotham Academy. She was the star of the track team, breaking the regional record for fastest time in 100m, 200m, and 400m races. Also captain of her soccer team. Attended NYU’s photography program before dropping out after a year. Now she’s a professional photography. Her work’s been featured in Vogue, New York Times, National Geographic…amongst others.”

“Rather an impressive woman,” Alfred said.

Bruce nodded.

“I should get the tea and coffee ready for her arrival.” And with that, Alfred left Bruce in the drawing room.

30 minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Bruce glanced down at his watch: she was right on time.

He heard Alfred saying his pleasantries before he heard the clicking of her heels as she rounded the corner to enter the room he was waiting in.

For being a famous photographer, she could’ve been a runway model with her height and the way she walked into the room, completely owning it. She wore four-inch heels, only adding to her natural tallness. And her bright, red coat only added to her presence.

For a split second, Bruce was convinced that he was looking at an Amazon. Diana immediately flashed into his mind for a split second. Perhaps that was what Y/M’s/N needed help with: to get her daughter to her real people. But how would she have known Bruce Wayne had such connections? Unless she knew Batman’s true identity…

As soon as Y/N spotted him in the room, he rose from his seat.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Bruce greeted.

He took a step forward and held out his hand.

“You guys really love the formalities.” She said it with a dark evenness, but it was clearly a joke. “Y/N is fine, Mr. Wayne,” she added as she shook his hand.

“In that case, it’s Bruce,” he countered with a soft smirk.

There was something so familiar about her. But Bruce knew they’d never met. 

“Thank you for seeing me. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time,” Y/N quickly got to it. She opened her purse to grab the envelope.

“My mom wanted you to have this. And she wanted to make sure I was the one to give it to you,” Y/N explained as she offered it to him.

Bruce took it carefully, but didn’t open it. “Yes, I heard about her passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said hurriedly, making it obvious to Bruce that she did not want nor need his condolences.

Bruce nodded slowly.

There was a pause.

“Do you know what it says?” He asked her lightly.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t supposed to read it.”

“I see.”

“I should really be going. I have a flight to catch later tonight.” Most people that visited Wayne Manor wished to stay there forever. Or their curiosity got the best of them and their eyes took in every little detail.

But Y/N looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. And she wanted to get out as soon as she possibly could.

“Thank you again for seeing me,” she rushed out.

Without waiting for his answer, Y/N turned and started walking out of the room.

But she only got a few steps before she stopped.

Bruce watched her shoulders tense and her body move as she was clearly taking in deep breath.

Slowly, Y/N turned around to face him.

“Were you friends?”

Bruce gave her a watery smile. “She was my girlfriend in high school.”

Y/N seemed annoyed by that answer. “She never mentioned you. Not once.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed at that and his eyes zoned out as if he was revising the past in his mind. “I’m not entirely surprised. Things didn’t really end well between us.”

She nodded slowly. “Goodbye, Mr. Wayne.”

And Y/N turned and strutted out of the room without looking back.

As soon as Bruce heard her cab drive away, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

He barely noticed that Dick had walked into the room. “May I ask…Who was the extremely attractive and tall woman that just walked out?”

But Bruce didn’t hear him as his eyes raced across the letter. His heart sped as he continued reading.

“Bruce?” Dick asked after being ignored. “Is she your next conquest or what?”

It wasn’t until Bruce was done reading the letter for the third time that he finally looked up and acknowledged Dick.

Alfred had also walked into the room, unbeknownst to Bruce.

“You OK?” Dick asked, now concerned with how silent Bruce had become.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred also urged.

“That was…my daughter,” Bruce finally muttered.

Dick blinked before his eyes grew wide in shock.

Alfred seemed less surprised, almost as if he had already put that together.

“Excuse me,” Bruce told them and exited the room.

———

Dick and Alfred must’ve warned the rest of the family not to bother Bruce in the cave. Usually he would’ve been disturbed by now.

Bruce had been at the computer for hours.

Alfred was the first person to come down, carrying a tray with dinner and tea.

The butler wasn’t surprised to find Y/N’s face all over the screens.

If Bruce had left any available information hidden before inviting Y/N to the manor, it was all out there now. Bruce knew everything about Y/F/N Y/L/N that was public knowledge – probably even some things that were not.

“You know, you did not seem all that surprised,” Bruce said to Alfred as he put the tray of food down next to him.

“Seemed rather obvious, didn’t it?”

Bruce quickly turned to look at him. “It did?”

Alfred smirked. “Her eyes,” was all he said.

“The color?”

Alfred shook his head. “As soon as she walked into the manor, they were reading me.” He tilted his head in Bruce’s direction. “Observation. Perception. Attention to detail...That is all you, Master Wayne.”

“The way she held herself,” Alfred continued, "Shoulders held back, head high, walking with purpose. No hesitation.”

“Also me?” Bruce asked.

Alfred simply nodded.  

“I don’t think she liked me very much,” Bruce sighed.

He didn’t know how he felt about that yet.

“A lot of people think you don’t like them when you first meet them,” Alfred countered. “Because I don’t trust them yet.”

Alfred raised his brows and silently ask him, ‘Don’t you see my point?’

Bruce rubbed his face and reached for the tea on the tray, ignoring all the food.

“I don’t know why you’re so entertained by this, Alfred.”

“Yes, I was entertained. I just saw a younger, female version of you, Master Wayne.”

“I abandoned her,” Bruce shot.

“You didn’t know she existed,” Alfred corrected.

“And why do you think that is?”

Alfred’s face dropped a little bit when he noticed the envelope discarded on the far end of Bruce’s desktop.

He looked down at the ground as he asked, “Might I ask what the letter said?”

Bruce glared at the letter as if touching it would burn him.

But after a moment, he grabbed it and quickly handed it to Alfred.

Bruce,

If this letter has finally reached you, it is because I have passed.

I must admit that I wrote this letter mostly in the event that I leave my daughter before she is an adult. But once Y/N turned 18, I decided to still pass this along to you.

There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will get to the point.

The young woman who delivered this letter to you is your daughter, Bruce.

Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.

When I found out I was pregnant with her, I was only 18. We had just graduated high school. You had started traveling. You called less and less. And you grew more distant – physically and emotionally. Eventually, you stopped answering my calls altogether. I left you a voicemail, only saying that I so desperately needed to talk to you, that I needed you.

But you never called me back.

With no words at all, you made it very clear that you no longer wanted anything to do with me.

But there I was, a teenager who was pregnant with our child.

I would be lying if I said I never considered terminating my pregnancy. I was scared and you broke my heart. All I wanted to do was erase you from my life.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Once I decided what my future was going to be, I also decided that I did not want you to have any part in it.

I knew even if you pretended to play the doting father and the committed partner, you would grow tired of us eventually. You would resent me and our child for bringing you down. And you would brush us aside for yourself.

I realized I would rather Y/N have no father at all than one who would only disappoint her over and over again.

To this day, I truly believe I did the right thing for all three of us.

There are not enough words to explain the complicated woman that Y/N grew up to be. But I will try my best. I think I owe you that at least. 

Or maybe you have no interest.

I don’t know how she became so much like you, even when I never so much as showed her a picture of you or uttered your name.

She enjoys being alone – almost to her own detriment. I constantly catch her repressing her feelings, always staying strong for everyone else. It reminds me of you. She’s assertive and confident, never letting anything stand in the way of what she wants. Sometimes I don’t think she’s scared of anything. It worries me, just like it worried me when I thought the same of you.

I truly don’t know what you will do with this information.

But…if you have any desire to form some sort of relationship with her, then you should know this: she will not make it easy for you. She will push you away. And she might even hate you. I raised her to never need a man in her life, and she’ll make sure you know that.

I don’t expect anything from you. I never did.

But I would just like to know there might be someone who will be there for her should she need them.

Goodbye, Bruce.

Alfred slowly handed the letter back to Bruce when he was finished.

“I pushed her away because I knew what I was about to become,” Bruce explained darkly. “And I didn’t want her anywhere near it. She would’ve been in danger.”

“Y/N, as well,” Alfred added.

“But had I known…if I just listened to her–”

“Master Wayne, I thought we had agreed to never linger on the ‘what ifs.’”

That sure silenced Bruce.

“Now, what do you plan on doing, Master Wayne?”

———

Y/N frowned when her phone started vibrating and she recognized the name of her mom’s executor on her phone screen.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you?”

“Fine. How are you?” She was quick, wanting to get this over with. Surely, he had bad news. Another medical bill came in or some other expense that slipped by them.

“Good, good. Just curious…have you placed any payments to our various claims?”

“Uhhh…no. But I’m working on it.”

Y/N hadn’t expected to get a call nagging about paying bills.

“No, no, no. You misunderstand. They’ve all been paid,” the executor explained.

Y/N sat up straighter in her chair. “What? That’s not possible.”

“An anonymous donor. They somehow got record of all your outstanding payments and covered all of them.”

Y/N was stunned to silence.

“Ms. Y/L/N…this is a good thing.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Right. Yes, of course. I just…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank this guardian angel of yours.”

---------------------

Part 2

Let me know what you think!!!

[ultralightpoe]

True Crime Junkie Part 2- Yelena Belova

Description: You figure out that Yelena knows more about true crime than anybody

Warnings: Talk about serial killers (If I see any comments that romanticize serial killers I will block you. GET BETTER IDOLS) . Reader panics and hits Yelena, but we do not support domestic violence here people

Authors Note: Coming back with a part 2!!!! I loved the idea of this so I decided to keep it going, would kinda love to make it a little series but we’ll see. I hope you enjoy and just to let ya know REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND I LOVE THEM SO SEND SOME IN! ENJOY!!!

Word Count: 1,837

Part 1 can be found HERE

MAIN Master List - - Marvel Master List

        It starts like this, you meet Yelena online under the name ‘FannyRomanogers’ and you let her stay with you. Things were fine. She comes home from night and watches a true crime episode with you, becoming obsessed. Things are fine. She moves in and eventually you fall in love with her. Things were semi fine.  You argue with yourself every day on whether you should come out with your feelings and tell the blonde you love her. Things are stressful but fine. 

         You come home from work one day to a random girl sitting on your couch with a bow out, staring at you like he just found a million dollars. Things are no longer fine. 

          Jokes aside, when walking into your apartment late at night when your roommate was out of town for a day and there are lights on it’s a bit concerning, seeing an entire person sitting on your couch with a weapon is when you flip out. 

            Screaming and picking up random things to throw at the figure while you pull out your phone, she catches most of what you throw and tries to shush you as you throw a knife. She catches it right in front of her face and both of you sit there in shock for a second.

          “N-nice….nice throw.” She mumbles, eyes wide and unblinking as she looks at you, like she was surprised she caught it. You were too but you wouldn’t admit it.

         “Nice catch……BUT WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” You scream, picking up another knife to throw. The brunette drops the knife she is holding and holds her hands up in surrender. “Wait! No. I’m a good guy.”

           “You’re a good guy?! Then why did you break into my apartment? Huh?” You snap as your neighbors bang on the wall yelling for you to keep it down. 

          “My name is Kate Bishop… you probably recognize me from the news.” She smiles, shrugging a bit like it was no big deal.

         “I don’t.” You snark, stepping forward. “And that doesn’t explain why you broke into my apartment.”

        “Oh okay. Well um- I was hoping you’d recognize me or Yelena would be here. My name is Kate, I’m kinda like the new hawkeye-”

        “Get on with it.”

        “WellIcametocheckonYelenaaftershetriedtokillClint”

         “What?”

        “I came to check on Yelena after she tried to kill Clint.” Kate repeats, smiling a bit. 

          “Yelena didn’t try to kill anyone.” You defend, hands shaking a bit while you hold the knife. 

          “She….. oh you didn’t know. Oh that’s not good.” Kate mumbles, picking up her bow. “I didn’t mean to drop the bomb and then go but this is a bit awkward so I- well okay. I wrote my number down on the notepad for you. Tell Yelena to call me if she needs to. She has my number already.”

           Then she was gone, just like that. Clues you in to Yelena’s huge secret then dips like she was just here to deliver pizza. Things were not fine. 

          After Kate left you went on a downward spiral, hiding in your room while searching everything you could. Googling Yelena obviously came up with nothing, so you began searching for Clint Barton. You found the attack at the christmas tree, watching the fight in the ice rink. Though it was filmed from a different building and a bit blurry you knew Yelena and her braids. How did you not see this before? Where were you when this was on the news?

        You lived with an assassin, who has killed people. 

        The next morning was extremely awkward, Yelena was supposed to be back by 6 and you hadn’t slept at all. You shuffled around the apartment not really knowing what to do before deciding to get ready for the day. The more you thought about it the worse your anxiety got so you tried not to. You really did. 

          You were just finished cleaning the living room when you heard Yelena’s keys in the lock, taking a second to panic before dashing back to your room. 

        Yelena was a trained assassin, she knew what she was doing. She always made sure to jingle her keys when returning so that you knew it was her coming in, and she always listened to make sure no one followed her home. 

         She was used to you getting up to greet her whenever she got home, hearing you shuffle to the door. But when you ran to your room she knew something was up. 

          Opening the door and making sure to carry her duffle bag lightly so you’d think it was just clothes. “Y/n? Младенец (baby) I’m home! And I brought some treats!”

         When she didn’t get an answer she moved to set the box of treats on the counter and went to set her bag down on her bed. Fanny wasn’t in her room which wasn’t surprising considering the dog chose your room over hers. 

         To be honest Yelena hated her room too, she never decorated it, something in her not wanting to get too comfortable in this place. But she did, she got comfortable in the apartment. She likes sleeping in your room, snoring while you read late into the night. She loves the way Fanny would come and lay on the bed with them, whining and pawing to get in the middle. 

        She loved talking about Natasha to you, of course you knew her as Natalie, but you still loved to hear about her nonetheless. 

         Yelena loved you, she loved being near you and hated her own room. So that’s where she was going to be. Hiding all her weapons and outfits before moving across the apartment ro your room and knocking lightly. “Y/n? Младенец? I’m baaAack.”

        She waits a moment, listening to you shuffle around on the other side of the door, before knocking again. “Y/n? Are you feeling alright?”

        “I’m fine! Yep! Fine!” You mumble, swinging the door open and walking past. “Just late for a meeting.”

        “Младенец it’s Saturday.” She mumbles, brows knitting together while moving towards you. You move back, getting closer to the door. 

        “It’s a….well it’s a meeting for that thing I had.” You mumble before running out the building. Fanny whines from where she lays on your bed, rolling over for Yelena to rub her belly. 

        “Fanny!” Yelena smiles, moving over to fulfill the fur babies wishes. That’s when she sees it, the notepad with Kate Bishop's phone number sprawled on it and a photo of Clint fighting Yelena pulled up on your computer screen. “Kate Bishop…. You be a pain in my ass sometimes.”

        You made it as far as 4 blocks away before Yelena caught up to you, grabbing your elbow to spin you around, smiling softly while her eyes narrowed.  “младенец , you forgot your keys.” 

       “I did.” You laugh awkwardly, going to snatch them back before she pulls her arm away and drags you closer by your coat. “Младенец, you seem off today. What’s going on?”

      “Nothing is going on. I just went to get coffee.”

       “I thought it was a meeting.” She snaps, head tilting a bit.

         “It is. But I wanted coffee first.”

        “Why would you want coffee if you’re late for a meeting?”

         “Who says I’m late?”

         “You did. Seven minutes ago.”

         “Prove it.”

         “Prove it? What?”

           You take a moment to watch her, her hand still holding the front of your jacket, then out of instinct you slap her as soft as you can. She doesn’t move though, actually just looks you in shock . “What was that?”

         “Uhm- well….” Then you book it, running away from where she is. She chases after you, a little annoyed by the fact you just slapped her and ran. 

          “Y/n, seriously?” She calls, finally catching up to you in an alley, kicking your ankle to trip you, catching you before you hit the ground. Before you know it your back is to an alley wall. 

              “Okay! I don’t know what I did to end up on someone’s hit list but I’ll fix it! I’ll confess!” You panic, hands going up in surrender. “When I was 5 I stole a toy from target. I put it in my mom's bag pretending to grab her wallet for her.”

             “Y/n wha-”

           “And when I was in high school I chugged 3 red bulls before a test so I would throw up because I didn’t study for it and I was terrible at math.”

          “Младенец that’s not what I-”

         “I’m not a saint but I haven’t done anything super bad. I’m not an arsonist and though I’m obsessed with true crime I’ve never killed anybody, and I’ve never found a wallet in an Ihop parking lot at 3 am then went through it to find the owner only to realize that they lived out of state then taking the 20 dollar bill out of it before dropping the wallet again-”

         “That was extremely specific and I think you did do that.” Yelena laughs before fixing your jacket. “What makes you think I’m gonna kill you, младенец?”

          “I figured it out, it took awhile but I figured it out. That Katie girl came in and she was looking for you- she actually broke in-”

        “She broke into our apartment?! What about the security measures I set up?”

“Your what?”

         “Okay enough. I am not going to kill you silly.”She laughs, hands coming up to rub your cheeks. “I came out here to kill Clint Barton.”

“Why?”

          “I think we have a lot to talk about. Let’s go get some coffee and go back home to the treats I brought back from the trip.” She sighs, pulling you closer. “Then we can discuss why I stayed. And how much I love you.”

“I would like that.” You nod, “I would also like to apologize for hitting your cheek.”

         “If a serial killer comes at you, that's all you’re gonna do? Slap them?” She laughs, beginning to walk. 

           “No. I didn’t want to actually hurt you. I love you” You sniffle, walking with her arm in arm.

          “No, if a serial killer comes at you then you kick their nose in and tear their guts out…….So red bulls and theft in parking lots?”

“Shut up”

        She explains everything, sitting on your counter eating macarons from France like it was nothing. You stood by her, frozen in shock at everything she told you. 

         “Does….does that make my girlfriend a serial killer?”

        “Oh come on. You calling me a serial killer now?”

         “Yelena you just asked me out then told me about all the people you’ve had to kill. Gimme a second to process.” You laugh, moving to hug her while she sits on the counter.

       “I have to call Kate Bishop in a moment but once I figure out what she needs I will be taking you out. On a date.”

      “Works for me, serial killer. But we are no longer watching true crime together. It’s weird now.”

[kaunis-sielu]

Crash and Burn

It’s been a busy day already. You’ve got three tables in the small diner that have just left so you’ve got to bus those. The new girl, Jane, isn’t a whole lot of help. She’s a jumpier Omega and anytime an Alpha even looks at her she looks like she’s about to jump out of her skin.

“Hey, can you take table six?” Lois asks, “I don’t want Jane to have to deal with the boss.”

“Lex is here?” You ask with a small frown and your boss nods.

“Him and one of his guys.” Your boss tells you and you let out a soft groan.

“Fine. But I get Saturday off.”

“What. No.” You fold your arms over your chest and stare at her. You know that she needs you more than you need this job. You’ve got a friend who owns a cafe in a safer part of town that has told you that you have a job anytime you want it. Unfortunately you make really great money at the Diner. “Fuck. Fine, you can have Saturday afternoon, I need you for the morning rush.”

“Then I want time and a half.”

“You are the biggest pain in the ass Omega that I have ever met in my whole fucking life.” You smirk at her and she huffs, “Fine!”

“Thank you.” You chirp before turning on your heel and making your way out to where Lex Luthor and his associate are.

“Over on fourth.” His associate say as you make your way up to the table,

“Mr. Luthor, your usual?”

“Yes, thank you.” You know that he’s a powerful man, the Alpha owns most of the neighborhood but he’s almost always polite. He expects perfection and demands respect and that demand for respect also pertains to how the customers treat his employees.

“Got this one trained well huh Lex?” His associate laughs and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“What do you want?” You ask coldly and Lex, who has seen your temper more than once, leans back in the booth he’s in.

“Are you on the menu?”

“No.”

“Be polite Omega.”

“You first.” You snark and Lex laughs.

“Leave the woman alone Corbin and order your damn food.” He says to the other Alpha who frowns at you.

“Club sandwich, fries and a coke.” You jot it down for the cook, “I’ll be right back with your drinks.” You tell them before turning and heading to the kitchen. After dropping off the ticket you get Lex his coffee and this Corbin guy his pop you put the coffee pot and cup on a tray then carry the pop to the table. The two men stop talking when you reach the table, something that isn’t normal, Lex usually just continues his conversations like you’re not there. There’s a piece of paper on the table that you put the coffee pot on top of, your curiosity getting the best of you, then give both Alpha’s a smile.

“Anything else I can get you before your food is ready?”

“No, thank you.” Lex says and you leave the table to go and clean the other tables when the little bell outside the cook’s window dings you make your way over to the window and pick up the food. When you drop off the food again they stop talking and now you’re absolutely sure that something is going on.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” You tell the two before leaving again, they finish their food, throw some cash on the table then leave. You hope that they didn’t take the paper with them.

Sure enough as you’re cleaning the table up you lift up the coffee pot and find the paper stuck to the bottom of it. Just like you’d hoped it would be. There are several addresses on it so you fold it and shove it in your pocket. Obviously you’re going to be looking those up when you go home later. Why go through all the effort to be nosy then not follow through?

The rest of the day is uneventful and after helping Lois close you head home. You shouldn’t be walking this late at night but sometimes you just can’t help it. You can’t just not go to work because your piece of shit car decided not to work.

When you get home you start on dinner and grab your laptop to google those addresses, they all look familiar. Like they’re all in the neighborhood but you don’t know the street numbers well enough to know for sure, you’re more of a places person.

The first address comes up in a news article about an arson. You read through it and are surprised that you hadn’t heard about it before, when you put the building on the map it’s not that far from your apartment.

The second address is mentioned in a news clip and you can’t believe the coincidence but this one has been burned down too.

“This is the second arson in two weeks. If anyone has any information about the fires you can contact DA Clark Kent at District Five’s courthouse.” The Fire Chief, a Steve Rogers, says to the reporter who is beaming up at him.

“Thank you so much Captain Rogers.” She says and he gives her a curt nod before turning away and heading back to the firetruck. “You can also reach the District Attorney by email at Clark.Kent@disfive.gov. Tips can remain anonymous.”

You consider it but you know it’s best to not have a paper trail to connect you to the conversation. You might be overreacting, you look up the next address and your heart sinks, this cannot be happening. This one was burnt down last night. There are four more addresses on the paper, when you look them up they’re all in the area too. You open your email and are about to email the district attorney but you can’t bring yourself to hit send. Do you really want to get yourself mixed up in whatever is going on with Mr. Luthor? He’s a powerful Alpha, one that could make your life very difficult if he is burning down these buildings.

But he’s filthy rich, why would he be burning down anything? It doesn’t make any sense. You and your curiosity. You snap the laptop shut, eat dinner then get ready for bed. You dream about sirens and smoke.

When you wake up the next morning you head into work, you like the breakfast crew a lot, the regulars who come in and chat with you tipping well before heading off for the day. You have a few retirees that come in every morning and stay until almost noon just talking and hanging out. It’s nice to see Martha and Jonathan, still head over heels for one another.

It’s not until Mr. Luthor’s friend, Corbin, comes into the diner that you even remember the whole note stealing you did yesterday.

“Hi Omega.”

“I have a name.” You say rolling your eyes as you gather up some of the dirty coffee cups from one of your tables.

“Yea but I don’t know it.”

“You can call me Punkie.”

“What the fuck kinda name is that?”

“The one I go by. Do you need a table? Are you meeting Mr. Luthor again?”

“No, I was wondering if I left anything on the table yesterday. A list?”

“Not that I can recall.” You lie turning away from him to bring the tray of dirty cups back to the kitchen to be washed by Brad.

“Damn, I thought maybe I left it on the table.”

“If you did we probably would’ve thrown it away.” You tell him over your shoulder, “Sorry.” Why does he need the list of addresses? Is he trying to figure out who is burning the buildings down? But not all of them had been burnt down, only the first three.

“Thanks anyway.” He says before leaving the diner. You finish your shift then head home again. It’s only three on a Friday, you could bring the note to the DA, you go and listen to that news report again to get his name. Clark Kent. District five. You take the subway, not something you love doing but you have to make sure you get there before it closes. It’s almost 4:30 when you walk into the building. Note in your pocket, heart in your throat. You stop in the hallway before his office door and stare at it.

You can do this. It’s the right thing to do.

You can do this, you can do this, you can do this. You bounce up onto the balls of your toes a couple of times letting out deep breaths each time your heels hit the ground.

“I can do this.” You mutter to yourself before barreling into the office and crashing directly into the biggest Alpha you have ever seen.

“Oh shit.” You squeak as a pair of arms wrap around you to keep you from falling over.

“Well, hello there.” The deep voice says and heat rushes through you, you are going to die from embarrassment. You untangle yourself from the Alpha you’ve crashed into and take a step back. “This is for DA Kent.” You tell him shoving the paper into his hand. “I should go.”

“Woah, wait. I’m DA Kent.” He says “Why don’t you come into my office and tell me what this is about?”

“I,”

“I’m not gonna hurt you Omega.”

“Don’t call me Omega. You don’t know me.” You snap and his eyebrows raise as he smirks at you.

“Forgive me, I’m Clark, you are?”

“Punkie.”

“Appropriate.” He mutters and you’re not sure if you should be insulted or not, judging by the smile on his face you’re going to go with not.

“Ms. Punkie, it would be helpful if I knew more about this.” He says lifting the list back into your sight line.

“Fine.”

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @wonderlandfandomkingdom @abschaffer2