#which is of course still race science

[communistkenobi]

cannot overstate how much you should not take seriously anyone who thinks IQ is a valid or valuable measure of human beings

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Ghost King uses Uno Reverse Card

Ghosts are not a race of evil creatures that most people think they are. And Danny was really happy when the Infinite Realms were able to make peace treaties with most countries of the human world. Ghosts, however, are a very vindictive race. At least that’s how young Phantom explained himself to Batman afterwards.

It just so happens that a couple of hours before the event aimed at expanding intergalactic unions most of the JLeague members due to an emergency call went on a mission. Which means people who had any authority in Phantom’s eyes became unavailable for a while.

So Shazam and Phantom as the most known outside the Earth were assigned to greet the guests and most importantly to entertain the visitors until the founders of JL return.

According to Phantom, Batman, being such a good detective with a bunch of backup plans, should have known that Danny’s favorite cereal ran out this morning, that he was late for first class, and that after school he had a fight with his parents. No, seriously, aren’t so-called scientists supposed to be able to admit mistakes in their own judgment? Danny got tired of being constantly ashamed of their behavior near other ghosts. It's bad enough that his authority as a ruler is sustained only by the support of those Ancients with whom he maintains friendly relations. Average citizens still doubt that he is a is sufficient to claim the throne. He’s had enough of being accused of not being a full-fledged ghost.  He’s not ready to hear rumors that he supports his parents' racist judgments too. In short, his day sucked. And all his ghostly nature now wanted to do something nasty to his neighbors to get rid of the tension.

Alien leader stretched out a hand to Phantom and Shazam. “Your Majesty Phantom, Champion of Magic. It’s an honor to meet you. I hope I learned the proper greeting gesture of the local intelligent race.”

And with that Danny’s reserve of conscience ran out. It’s a perfect moment to feed his need to be a little shit.

“The local intelligent race?’ Danny had this extreme bewilderment on his face. “Which one do you think..? Earth was the home of the Gods and of various inhabitants of the galaxy but it was a long time ago.”

Woman is clearly confused. Great. “E-Earthers. I think they’re called that.”

“Earthlings, intelligent race? You must be mistaken.” Danny faked a giggle. “Who told you that crap?”

“Phantom, what are you doing?” Batman hissed at him from an earpiece. Danny turned the sound off with a clear conscience. “I mean, seriously, there’s not a single serious study in the science library in this galaxy or any other galaxy that says humans are intelligent. Shazam, do you think they’re..?”

For some reason, Billy immediately remembered watching a man spend his entire salary on lottery tickets last week. And of course he was careless enough to shake his head and snort. That was all Phantom needed.

“Exactly. Earthlings don’t have to be intelligent to mimic the behavior of more evolved species. Surely you are well aware that Martians and Kryptonians, and many others have visited Earth at different stages of human development. My supervisor Clockwork and I have long been observing this strange species. In many ways, their behavior resembles a mixture of instinctive reactions of specimens from the 126 sectors of the nearest SBc Galaxy and several other creatures from planets of the galaxy KV59. However, even I, as an anthropologist with extensive experience of observing human species in their natural habitat, still have to explore and discover many of their secrets.”

“I do not understand. According to the documents among the delegation that greets us there are Earthlings. I mean I don’t question the scientific evidence of a respected Chronos or you, but why then..”

“Of course you don’t! It’s really quite simple. For the purity of the clinical experiment, which we are conducting now, it is necessary that Earthlings feel themselves ostensibly full participants of the «society» consisting of members with developed intelligence.”

“So, any luck, colleague?” Shazam, who realized that Batman would now skin them anyway, decided to at least participate in this theater so that the punishment would be at least deserved.

“Well, we’ve certainly come up with some interesting preliminary insights about the adaptive capacity of the human brain in limited contact with Martians. Of course, humans do not have real emotions to be full participants in communication, but their attempts and zeal are very inspiring.”

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Fentons watching a live broadcast of what was supposed to be an interplanetary friendship encounter are beginning to realize that if trying to punish a rebellious human teenager has always been difficult for them, the attempt to control the behavior of the 14 y/o half-ghost may become a nightmare not only for them.

Jack: Honey, I think Danny’s still a little upset about our old theories about the ability of ghosts to feel or think.

Jazz, sitting between them with the face of a man resigned to the chaos around her, could not restrain the sarcasm: Really? Why would you think that?

[embrosegraves]

𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕪 𝕀𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖

(request) Fernando Alonso x Fem!Reader As much as he loves it, Fernando is a bit confused as to why his wife is refusing to let him go anywhere.

Warnings: none. maybe some spelling errors.

Fernando is, in the words of many, a certified DILF. He’s always had the attention of women his entire career, however lately he has become more and more popular amongst teenage girls. You couldn’t blame them, of course not. If you were a teenager still, you would be the exact same. Even now, his teenage fans considered you, his wife, as “one of them”. You had fun chatting and interacting with his fans on social media because you all agreed on one crucial thing. Fernando Alonso was hot as fuck. 

One afternoon, you had been lounging on your couch and scrolling through tiktok. A lot of Fernando’s fans tended to tag you in edits they’d made of him. Clicking on the most recent tag, a video appeared of a girl who only just looked the legal age. 

“This is a message for F1’s resident MILF, Y/n Alonso.” 

She spent the next few minutes talking about different clothing trends that she thought would look nice on Fernando. One such trend was a formal suit without a shirt or vest. You privately agreed that he would look amazing, but the one that really caught your eye was the trend that went around a few years ago. Of men wearing light grey sweatpants. Of course you knew why the trend was so…big. It made you curious as to whether Fernando also had a pair of grey sweatpants. 

Getting up from the couch, you decided that you would look through the wardrobe and have a look. If he did, you were going to have to try and convince him to wear them for you. For science. You started looking through all of his clothes and were a bit disappointed when you couldn’t find any. Being so deep in your musings, you hadn’t heard Fernando come back inside from his workout in the backyard. 

“Hola, Mi Amor.” 

Fernando laughed at the shriek that left your mouth. Turning around you started scolding him for scaring you, until you realised what clothes he had changed into after he showered. 

The grey sweatpants you had been looking for. 

Fernando had apparently not noticed your brain short circuiting. Your husband wasn’t always the smartest, but at least he was pretty. He continued talking to you, completely unaware of the effect his clothes had on you. 

“I was thinking we should go and get some groceries later. Mama sent me the recipe for this bread I haven’t had since I was a child.” 

“That sounds great, Guapo,” you said, shaking out of your stupor, “but I think I’m too tired to get groceries today. We could go tomorrow if you’d like?” 

“I can always go by myself if you don’t want to, I don’t mind.” Fernando frowned a little. It was almost lunch time, how could you be tired still?  

Frantically you shook your head. Snaking your arms around his waist, you looked up at him through your lashes. 

“No, I want to go with you, tomorrow. When I won’t be as tired.” You gave a demure smile, really trying to discreetly convince him to stay home. You knew that if your reaction to seeing your husband like this — in the comfort of your own home — was this dramatic, the teenage girls on tiktok would go ballistic. You had to prevent that as much as you could. 

Which is why you knew that Fernando would bend to your every wish if you looked up at him and bat your delicate eyelashes. Just as you predicted, his hands gently rubbed the length of your body. 

He smiled at you and nuzzled his ever-growing stubble into the crook of your neck. “Okay. We’ll go tomorrow.”

“Can we lay down for now? At least until I need to make dinner.”

“We can do whatever you want, Corazón.”

Weeks later, Fernando had come home early from a race weekend. He hadn’t seen your car in the driveway so he assumed that you were either still at work (it was monday after all) or you had gone to the shops for something. The thought of being there for you to come home to, as you usually were for him, made him more giddy than he’d’ve liked to admit. 

He had quickly taken a shower, putting on his most comfortable pair of grey sweatpants, and started to prepare a nice snack and drink for you. Just as he put the last thing on the plate for you, he heard your car pull up the drive. Excited to see you after so long apart, he opened the front door and started walking towards your car. 

Still sitting in your car, you had been checking your phone when Fernando knocked on the driver's side window. Seeing him standing next to your car door, your eyes widened. You had immediately clocked onto the fact that he was wearing the sweatpants. Grabbing your things and opening the door, you got out as quickly as you possibly could. 

“Welcome home, Mi Amo—“ 

“Get inside! Quickly!” 

Fernando was confused. More confused than he had been a few weeks ago when you were too tired to go to the store with him. 

“Why the rush?” 

“No questions, just please go back inside the house!” 

Despite knowing that you lived in a relatively private area, your neighbours usually stuck to themselves, you couldn’t help but worry that someone had gotten a picture of Fernando in his grey sweatpants . 

Once you were both inside, Fernando sufficiently confused, you started to relax a little. 

“Is everything okay Amor? Why were you rushing?” 

You hummed. “Hmm? Oh, sorry I thought I’d seen some paparazzi. I was just a little worried.”

Later that same day, you were in your kitchen mixing yourself a cocktail to sip on while watching some TV. You could hear Fernando on his phone scrolling through his tiktok feed. Which would’ve been fine, if you hadn’t heard exactly what tiktok he was watching. 

Fernando didn’t often get videos about clothes on his for you page, but he felt compelled to sit through a video that came up about possible outfits for him to wear. What had really gotten his attention was that the video had been addressed to you. 

“This is a message for F1’s resident MILF, Y/n Alonso.” 

He was intrigued so he continued to watch the video. it wasn’t until the girl started explaining the Grey Sweats Trend that he finally figured out why you didn’t want him going outside. Curiously, he checked the comments to see what people thought about the trends she pointed out, only to see that you had left a comment on the video yourself.

yn.alonso 🔵 I think I'm gonna gatekeep the grey sweats 🤭 fernandoFan14 creator I can't even be mad 🫠

Shutting off his phone he walked into the kitchen to find you humming to yourself. You had been trying to pretend that you hadn’t just heard what he was watching. You tried to continue making your drink as if nothing was suspicious but you had to freeze when Fernando wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his whole body against your back. You didn’t often curse the height difference between the two of you, but with the way he was perfectly aligned with your backside, you couldn’t help it. 

“Is everything alright, Cariño?” You asked, trying your hardest to ignore the way he was pressing and practically rubbing against you. 

“I heard you were gatekeeping me from my fans.” 

“Who said that?” 

He chuckled. “You should know exactly who said it, Amor.” 

He attached his mouth to your neck and started placing slow, open kisses all the way from your shoulder to behind your ear. You knew in an instant that it was going to be a long night ahead.

My mind has been so centred on ABIN that I've basically had writer's block for anything that isn't for that series, so I apologise for how long this request has been sitting in my inbox.

otherwise, I hope you all enjoyed <3

[i-prefer-base-twelve]

Ford x Reader x Sleep

It's not so much that you awaken as you're drop-kicked into consciousness. Heart racing, disoriented--it's still dark--Ford is sitting up beside you, panting, clutching the duvet to his chest.

Shit. Something's wrong. Fire? Intruder? "Ford?" You croak.

Ford looks in your general direction, confused. Then his eyes focus and his shoulders sag. He takes a ragged breath and smooths your hair.

"Nothing," he mumbles, voice shaky. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

You frown up at him. "Bullshit," you say. "What's wrong?"

He looks out the window. Or, he would be looking out the window if the curtains weren't drawn. "Just a bad dream."

You prop yourself up on an elbow. Ford told you he had nightmares sometimes, but he's never startled you awake before. "It must have been pretty intense," you say. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Silence. He stares hard at nothing. "You--" he stops, clears his throat, tries again. "You… he…" Ford closes his eyes. "He… possessed you."

No need to ask who HE is. Your stomach knots up on Ford's behalf. "Hey. Look at my eyes," you say softly, reaching out to place a hand on his cheek. "It's just me in here. He's gone. Forever."

Ford scowls, shoving your hand aside. "You think I don't know that?"

You flinch back. That stings, even if you know he's only angry at himself. "Hey, asshole, I'm trying to comfort you here. Either let me try or let me sleep."

At that, he grunts and lays back down, facing away from you. You stare at his back, wondering what you should do; you've never seen him like this and you might have just fucked it up. Before you can decide on a course of action, he rolls over to face you and rolls you onto your side and pulls you tight against his chest. You can feel his shaky breathing, his pounding heart.

You try to turn and look at him, but his arm around you is so tight you're pretty much pinned. If he doesn't calm down soon, you're gonna have bruises. And not the fun kind.

He clearly doesn't want to talk about it, so that leaves distraction. Distraction, distraction… ah! You say quietly, "Did I ever tell you about the moment I decided not to be a scientist?"

He shifts, arm loosening fractionally. "I didn't know you'd ever considered it."

You smile. This is totally going to work. "Yeah, I actually entered college as a chemistry major. There I was, all of 18 years and two weeks old, in organic lab, WAY over my head--"

"Organic chemistry as a freshman?"

"Oh. Yeah. I guess I tested out of a bunch of credits."

"You never told me that." There's a gentle admonishment in his voice. You try to find a tactful way to say I don't talk about my college days because I'm an adult and finally decide on, "It never came up. Anyway, there I was in my first real chemistry lab, surrounded by all this strange equipment, and I was just trying to get the melting point of something." Which you do by waiting for a chunk of it to melt and then reading a thermometer. Science is not always complicated. "I turned the heat on, but I knew this thing had a pretty high melting point, so I started writing up my report while I was waiting, but then I got distracted and forgot I was heating it up… until the machine got so hot the thermometer blew out of its housing and shattered against the ceiling."

Silence. Ford's body, pressed against you, begins to twitch with laughter. "You FORGOT?"

You shrug as best your pinned shoulders will allow. "It scared the bejezus out of the whole class. Thank god it wasn't a mercury thermometer! No one was hurt. But that's when I knew I wasn't cut out for life in a lab. Changed my major to computer science the very next day."

You feel Ford shake his head behind you. "Too bad. You would have made a great chemist."

You laugh at that. "Clearly I would not have! Anyway, no regrets. I made it through the CS program without breaking a single machine. Wait, did I… no. The printer broke itself. I just put it out of its misery. Which was honestly one of the more fun times I had in college..."

"Mmmm," Ford says. Your scheme is working; he's falling asleep. You stop rambling as you feel his arm go slack.

You open your eyes to find yourself in the middle of a chem lab. The air burns your throat and stings your eyes. The tables around you are full of improbable setups, Rube Goldberg glassware hosting all manner of sickly-colored liquids. As you look closer, you notice the liquids are flowing the wrong way through the glassware.

You jump at the sound of glass shattering on the floor behind you. As you turn around, the lights flicker. A voice speaks, seeming to come from all around you and inside your head all at once.

"AND JUST WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

You jerk awake, feeling cold sweat on your face. Ford's arm still drapes across your stomach, his breathing still slow and easy. Good, you didn't wake him up. You try to match his breathing, focus on the physical sensations of his warmth and weight against you, try to calm down. Dreams, man.

The next thing you know, a big hand is smoothing your hair. You force your eyes open to see it's morning. Ford is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you intensely. This isn't bizarre exactly, but it's not his normal pattern. Usually when you wake up, he's either long out of bed and knee-deep in mad science, or snuggled up next to you. You make an inarticulate questioning noise.

"I… made you coffee." He's strangely bashful, gesturing at the mug on your nightstand. Next to the mug is a plate of peanut butter toast and strawberries, aka the most breakfast you ever eat.

Ford brought you breakfast in bed.

Ford has never brought you breakfast in bed before. You didn't know he was even aware of breakfast in bed as a concept.

You sit up, turning to lean against him as you reach for the coffee. "Thanks," you say, not managing to keep the confusion out of your voice. He puts an arm around your waist and scoots closer.

Ford stays quiet, unusually quiet, while you drink your coffee. After nearly half a cup, he finally speaks. "No one's seen me like that before." He looks back to you, eyes locking onto yours. "I hope you don't think less of me."

You set your mug on the table and turn to face him. "Think less of you? No, of course not, why would I? Nightmares are scary."

He scowls, looking away. "You didn't deserve to be treated like that."

It finally clicks. He's embarrassed about waking up in a panic, and wants to apologize for snapping at you. You sigh, putting a hand on his knee. "Seriously, it's no big deal. You were freaked out, you didn't mean anything by it. Honestly, your reaction was pretty standard. I dated one guy who would actually wake up screaming--"

He looks at you then, pinching your hip playfully. There's the slightest smirk on his face. "I don't need to know about your exes."

You smirk back at him. "Point being, don't worry about it. I barely even remember waking up."

He looks relieved. "Were you able to get back to sleep ok?"

Were you? Now that he mentions it, you vaguely remember having an unsettling dream of your own. What was it…? Maybe you're just remembering feeling unsettled on his behalf. You nod and say, "Out like a light."

"Good." He takes your hand in his and squeezes it. And then, after a pause, he adds, "You know, before you, I would just spend the rest of the night awake. Pacing up and down the halls or writing in my journals. But with you…" he shakes his head, smiling. "I went back to sleep. You're a gift, and I intend to appreciate you better in the future."

You smile at him. "I like the sound of that."

He moves in to kiss you, and you gladly let him.

[reareaotaku]

I Can't Have You

Summary: You always admired the acclaimed Stanford Pines, so when you were able to take his class in college, you were quick to take up the offer. If only you knew how this would affect both of your lives. Tw/Cw: Taboo, Dead Dove Content, Professor Ford, Student Reader, Power Dynamics, Dubious Consent, Age-Gap [Reader is in her early 20's], Older Man w/ Younger Woman, NSFW thoughts/Themes, Jealousy, Daddy Issues Inspired by: Only an Experiment

Linktree 4 the People of Palestine

You were thrilled when seeing the name Professor Stanford Pines on your schedule/degree plan. He was wildly acclaimed around the world for his contributions to science. To even be in the same room as someone so brilliant is something you could only dream of.

You were one of the first students in the class, which was good for you, because you were able to get some one on one time with him, before class started.

You walked behind him, going to tap his shoulder, when he turned around and was startled by your presence. He fiddles with his glasses and clears his throat.

"Um.. Hello."

You smile brightly at him, nearly jumping with joy. "Hello, Mr. Pines." You grab his hand, going to shake it, before pointing out that he had six fingers. "Wow- You have six fingers? Really? I didn't think it was real, but wow-"

Ford is alittle taken aback by your bluntness. "Uh, may I ask for your name?"

"I'm so sorry." You straighten up and put your hands together. "I'm Y/n L/n. I've admired you since I was a kid. You're like... the greatest man to exist."

He smiles, chuckling, "Well, I imagine I'll see great things from you, yes?"

"I sure hope so."

---

You tapped your pin against your desk, your knee bouncing as you tried to focus. Your mind kept racing to your professor, Ford... You hadn't expected him to be so... charming and handsome.

You sighed in bliss as you watched the man lecture. He had such a way with words and you were mesmerized by him.

The past few months you've been in his class have been incredible. He was just brilliant, and it showed with his work and words. You had never felt such a connection with someone.

He dismisses the class, but ends up calling you back. You were a little surprised, because he had never called you back before- In fact, no teacher has ever called you back.

"Y/n, you know I must say I'm very impressed with your writing." He tells you as he pulls out some of your papers. "You remind me of myself. So... brilliant. I'm very impressed with your work and wanted to tell you if you ever need help, my door is always open- For you anyway."

You smiled, a little flustered, "Um... Thank you, Mr. Pines-"

"You can call me Ford. When we're alone. No need for formality."

"Of course. Thank you, Ford. I'll definitely take you up on your offer."

"I sure hope you do." He smiles and you have to control the way your body seems to melt. You only hoped he didn't know the power he had over you.

---

You sipped on your drink, sitting in a small cafe while you were surrounded by books. You took a sip of your drink before sighing and leaning on your hand. You were distracted by a voice that called you.

"Uh, Y/n right?"

You were surprised that this guy approached you and knew your name. "Uh, yeah?"

"I'm Rob. We're in the same Philosophy class."

"Oh, yeah. I think I've seen you before."

He takes the seat in front of you, much to your dismay. You were just trying to study, not keep up a social conversation. You sighed, still focusing on your books as he kept talking, trying to keep your attention. Thankfully, a voice breaks out and pulls both of your attention away from each other.

You were surprised to see Ford, but you shouldn't have been, because the cafe was close to the school. You could tell something was off with Ford. You weren't sure what, but something was wrong.

"Um, Mr. Pines! I didn't know you liked Cafe's."

Your professor turns to you, smiling a sickly smile. "Uh, was just... around."

The tension was thick and you wondered if you should break the silence, but Rob finally does.

"Uh, you know, Y/n, I've got to go. I have class in like 30 minutes, but I'll see you around." He waves goodbye and you recuperate to be nice, but you were glad you didn't have to talk to him.

"Boyfriend?" Ford gestures to the leaving man and you quickly shake your head.

"God, no. No, no, no, no, no. Never. I don't even know that guy. He approached me."

"You don't know how good that is to hear."

"Yeah. Besides," You look Ford up and down. "He's not really my type."

---

You stared at your ceiling, frustrated. All your room-mates were asleep, making it impossible for you to talk to any of them about the problems you faced. You looked over at your desk where your final and sighed to yourself. You weren't sure why it was bothering you so much, but maybe it was because you really wanted to impress Ford and have him compliment you.

You frowned, wondering why you needed Ford's approval so bad. Maybe it had to go back to your daddy issues? He did give you the attention and approval you lacked during your adolescent years. But, Ford had always been someone you looked up too, so you would love to have his attention.

In fact, you would love more than his attention- or at least a different kind of attention... Like something more... You sighed, pushing a hand through your hair. You wanted to rid yourself the thoughts that plagued your mind.

The thoughts of being bent over backwards by a man that is over triple your age were driving you crazy. The fact that even for his older age, he seemed to be more active than you, so you were sure you could be bent so many different ways-

You groaned, shaking your head and covering your eyes. God, how could you look at the man knowing your thoughts about him in the dead of the night?

You looked back to your final project, before doing something stupid. You grabbed it and headed out of your apartment, heading towards the school.

---

You sighed as you stood infront of your professor's door. It was almost 2 in the morning and you doubted he was in his office, but the final was weighing heavily on your mind and you couldn't sleep. You raise your hand to knock but stop yourself.

You couldn't do this... You sighed, yet again, leaning your head on the door, only to fall forward when the door opened. Ford thankfully caught you before you could fall flat on your ass.

"Y/n, what are you doing?"

You felt your words get caught in your throat- He was still there, in his office... So late in the night. "Uh... Well-" You looked over at his desk to see a globe like thing with something moving in it. "What's that?"

He turns towards the globe, "Ahh, that." He lets you in and brings you over to the globe. He picks it up and shows it to you. "It's the interdimensional rift."

"What does that mean?"

"It's a controlled portal to other worlds- Or at least, it's in a controlled environment."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Very." He gestures to your project, a Perpetual Motion Machine, "What's that?"

"Uh... It's supposed to demonstrate Perpetual Motion-"

"I see that." He puts down your invention and pushes one of the balls and watches as it falls and bounces back up repeating the cycle. "You know..." He takes a seat and gestures for you to take a seat next to him. "When I was in high school, I made my own Perpetual Motion Machine... It was supposed to get me in my dream school..." He stops and you watch expectingly.

"But?"

He sighs, looking over at you, "My brother broke it and I didn't get in."

"A school rejected you? I don't believe it."

He laughs, a heavy hearty laugh. It was a nice laugh. You liked his laugh. "Oh, Y/n, you are something, you know that?"

"So, I've been told."

"I'm sure you have..." He smiles, scooting closer to you. "You're very special, Y/n." He tells you, his hands now on your knees.

You felt your face go a dark red at the closeness. You could see each of his eyelashes...

"You truly.... appreciate the brilliance of my mind. I know you would never take advantage of the knowledge I offer."

You wanted to respond, but before you could, there was a knock on the door and you pushed yourself away from him. Ford sighs, but gets up and opens the door. It was a student, because of course it was. Who else would it be?

They talk for a few minutes and you sigh to yourself. He closes the door and turns back to you, surprised to see you standing up with your work in your hands.

"What's wrong?"

"You know, it's late. I should get back to bed. You should, too. The sun's almost up, so I should try and get some sleep."

"I- Uh, yes. You should get some sleep. I'll see you later."

"Yeah... You will." You hold your head down as you exit his office, because you knew if you looked at him, you'd be drawn back in and stay.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Home for the First Time

It was early when there was a knock at the door of Wayne Manor, Bruce was still in his nightgown because even though it was nearly noon he’d been out late. He stayed back while Alfred opened the door, curious to see who it was and hoping he hadn’t forgotten he was supposed to meet with press or something today. But no, it was two children, nearly identical besides the fact one had blue eyes and the other green.

“Hello,” The blue eyed one greeted with a bright, charming smile, he had one arm out slightly, subtly shielding the green eyed boy who was hanging back a little, a serious look on his face and a stubborn set to his jaw. “My name is Danyal Al Ghul and this is my brother Damien. Perhaps Bruce remembers an ill advised dalliance with our mother Talia roughly 11 years ago? We are the result, and she says it’s time we meet our father and learn what we can from him.”

“Of course we’ll submit to a DNA test to prove our lineage,” The green eyes one, Damien, put in. Danial didn’t look at the boy as he nodded along.

Behind Alfred Bruce choked on his coffee and started to cough. Alfred was unflappable as always and simply nodded once. “I see, why don’t you two come through into the sitting room? The paternity test shouldn’t take long using our equipment, we’ll just need a bit of your hair,” Alfred said as he stood back and usured the kids in. Bruce deciding now would be a good time to disappear and compose himself before he had to meet these unexpected children.

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

Danyal was nervous and excited as they sat in the drawing room, cradling mugs of tea neither of them had drunk. Damien was probably suspicious of an attempted poisoning, but Danyal was just nervous! Not that he showed it, his hands didn’t shake and an impassive little smile stayed on his face as he observed every inch of the room. That was the difference between him and Dami really, Damien had been raised the heir to the Demon Head, Danny to the Bat and Wayne industries. They had gone through the same physical training of course but they had different behaviours ingrained in them.

Damien had been taught to repress all emotion and not show it at all where as Danny had been taught how to mimic them. Hide his true emotion and show the appropriate ones. A ‘press smile’ as they say, to charm and manipulate and give just the right half answers that truly gave nothing away. He excelled in science and technology which would be perfect for running Wayne Enterprises, so it mattered less that his reading skills flagged behind Dami’s a bit, or that he had been the weaker combatant.

Had been, until he had been struck by lightening and then revived by Lazarus. It had been a disappointment, but thankfully not something he could have been faulted for, an act of god to punish their grandfather for his avoidance of death and because even the gods feared who they would become. He remembered the strike, the unimaginable pain of it, and the aftermath as he lay on the ground, his heart stuttering and thumping to hard, then not, then fluttering, then not, then nothing as he had passed out.

He did not remember being dropped in the pit, but he did remember waking up within it. It burned through his veins, seeping in to the hand that had been struck holding his weapon, racing up along the fractals of energy, collecting the currents that still had him twitching uncontrollably and curling together into a hard ball in his chest. A wash of cold spread over him from his new centre, soothing the burn of the acrid, acidic pit. It made drifting there… comfortable.

He knew it shouldn’t have been, he had seen multiple people break the surface, gasping and screaming and clawing their way to shore, but it wasn’t for him. Then again Ra’s bathed in the pool, so maybe this was alright? It made him wonder about the people who never surfaced again, did they choose to stay because this was how it felt to them too? Drifting listlessly in comfortable… What? What was this feeling. Danny had turned and dove deeper into the pit, seeking answers as he always did, even when it wasn’t wise.

He didn’t know how long he swam before he could see the edges, the pool narrowing closer and closer till he could barely make it through, and then he found an exit. It was small, a porthole into a void of stars and doors. It was unlike anything he’d seen and he realised immediately it was calling to him, that was why he had dove. It wanted him to enter, it called it was where he belonged, it terrified him. When something far to large drifted by his little vantage point he fled back towards the surface, the life he knew, and the broken family he still loved.

He was a bit surprised to find that Damien and mother were still there but grandfather had already left. That was fair really, Danny didn’t know how long he had been down there, but his brother and mother are still there. It seemed Damien was being allowed a rare moment of weakness, on his knees by the edge of the pond, staring blankly into the water with their mother crouching next to him, rubbing his back though Damien’s eyes were still dry. They were… grieving him.

He burst through the surface of the glowing pool, gasping for air he scrambled up onto the bank, coughing up the disgusting liquid clogging his lungs. His ears were ringing and his sight narrowing to a green blur, completely unaware of what was going on around him until two hands, one the size of his own, and one larger land on his body. The smaller set held back his hair while larger rubbed his back, slowly sound returned and he heard his mother’s soft cooing and Damien’s panicked breath.

He gasped for breath and looked up at the two of them, the green retreating from his vision as he blinked rapidly. “Damien? Mother?” He had gasped seeing the relief overtake both of their faces that Lazarus hadn’t stolen his mind.

It hadn’t, in fact he was just as sharp as ever and had found that since then no one could detect him when he wanted to remain unseen, no door could stop him or keep him out. He was what any assassin dreamed to be, but it had also come with new awareness since he had been overhearing things no one would usually let him hear. He had heard the conversations Grandfather had with mother going back and forth about which of them should go to their father, since it was always meant to be Danyal but now with his new abilities he was clearly chosen by Lazarus so maybe he should be the true heir.

Danny known Grandfather was manipulative for as long as he could remember, not like Damien, who still had faith in the league and their grandfather. Damien was smart, and talented, he was suspicious enough for both of their physical safety, but he had a much harder time realizing when they were being manipulated, or when they were being used. That was alright, Danny could make up for this weakness as Damien had done for his unwillingness to kill. It had taken him a while of carefully planted seeds in both Grandfather’s ear and Mother’s to bring them around to the idea of both of them going to father.

Danyal didn’t know if father would be any better, but he would probably be easier to escape from then the league and maybe with some distance he would gain the courage to point out to Damien how it was wrong.

That was how life found them both sitting on their fathers couch, Danny’s tea long since having grown cold. He surfaced from his thoughts, seeing his eyes shimmering unnatural green in the reflection within the cup, as it usually did when he thought about his death.

He blinked it away in time to look up and see Bruce entering the room, he put his smile back on and stood, Damien following suit and looking sullen. They had agreed Danny would take the lead, but Damien still didn’t like it. “You must be Bruce, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Danyal said offering his hand to shake. Bruce blinked looking a little startled and shook his hand, Danny did his bast to give a good, firm handshake, hopefully his hands were too cold. “Mother always speaks highly of you, and even Grandfather admits there’s much we can learn from you,” He said, stepping back to let Damien shake Bruce’s hand as well.

“And anyone who can impress grandfather must be half a god,” Danny joked causing Damien to hiss and elbow his side as he usually did when he though Danny was speaking out of turn. Danny made a little oof sound and then gave Bruce a conspiratorial look, pleased to see he had made the stoic man crack a smile.

“It’s good to meet both of you as well, I’m sorry I didn’t know about either of you until today. The paternity test confirmed that you are my sons, Alfred is already setting up rooms for you next to each other in the family wing. In the mean time how would you feel about meeting a couple of your siblings? I believe Tim, Cass, and Stephanie are home at the moment? You’ve had a long trip, if you’d rather wait till tomorrow then I understand.”

“We’d love to meet them,” Danyal said, a little louder then usual to cover his brothers scoff. Damien scowled at Danyal who scowled back just as fiercely and tried to step on Damien’s foot, he knew the other boy would move out of the way before he could but it would make his point not to be disrespectful! It was clearer then clear that their father didn’t care much for blood given how much he loved all his adoptive children no matter what Grandfather thought. If Bruce wanted a biological heir he could have easily have gotten one, their blood might give them a slight advantage but they would have to prove their merits. But of course Damien believed everything Grandfather said still.

Damien dodged and then kicked back, Danyal rolling his eyes and dodging as well. Before a full fight could break out they both heard Bruce chuckle at them, Danyal gave the man a sheepish smile and while Damien blushed and looked down at the floor sulkily. “Alright, well then follow me. I’ll call Dick as well, I’m sure that when he finds out he has two new brothers to meet he’ll come running, I’m sure he’ll be here for dinner as well.”

“We’ve heard a lot about him too,” Danyal said with an impassive smile, they had to know about those who might be their competition after all. Danyal knew a bit more then Damien but they both knew what they needed to, like strengths and weaknesses. Danyal wondered if he was going to have to come to their adopted siblings defences, he fully expected Damien would try to assassinate them, whether or not it was actually wise to do so.

“Alright, then lets go see Tim first, he’s playing video games in his room. Steph and Cass are in the studio together,” Bruce said as he ushered Danny and Damien out of the sitting room and up a set of back stairs into the family wing of the manner. Danny and Damien following, having a silent argument of signs and dodgable blows about how exactly they should be handling this. What finally ended the argument was Danny flashing fang, his eyes glowing green and baring his teeth at Damien. Both to remind Damien of his true strength and to show how important this was to him, which made Damien relent for now he wasn’t sure.

Either way they had sorted it out by the time Bruce opened the door. “Tim, how do you feel about two new brothers?” Bruce said almost sheepishly and Tim groaned, pausing his game and spinning around in his chair.

“Damn Bruce where did you find these two?” He asked giving his adopted father a tired glare.

“On his doorstep,” Danny said promptly.

“We’re his biological sons,” Damien said at almost the same time, then glared at Danny who shrugged, both were true.

“Damn really?” Tim asked as he finally got up, examining both of them.

“We already did the paternity test,” Damien said with what Danny would call an unwarranted amount of pride.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Danyal. You can call me Danny if you want,” Danny said, stepping forward and offering Tim a handshake and his best smile. Tim blinked and shook his hand. “I’ve never played a video game, they didn’t allow such frivolities in the compound. They look like fun though, perhaps you could teach me?”

“Uh sure, sounds fun. What about you? You want to learn other little bro?” Tim asked looking to Damien.

“Why would I want to learn a skill with no practical use,” Damien scoffed. “My name is Damien, and I do not approve of nicknames,” He said, giving Danny a haughty look as he shook Tim’s hand. Danny just rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say little D,” Tim scoffed. Damien gave an indignant squawk and before he could go for a weapon Danny grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back.

“Okay that’s enough of that,” Bruce said, grabbing a knife Danny had missed Damien drawing and twisting it out of Damien’s grip as Danny got his brother in a headlock.

“Sorry about him, the League of Shadows doesn’t care much for social graces, I barely escaped being just as feral as him,” Danny joked before letting out an oof as Damien elbowed him in the side and escaped his hold.

“Eh it’s not the first time a brother has tried to kill me. I can look after myself,” Tim said, which was clearly a warning to Damien judging by the look. Danny knew that Tim could, but also knew he was still underestimating them, and he hoped that wouldn’t bite him before he figured it out. “Let me know if you change your mind, I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do with tech and media, I’ll be happy to be your guide.”

“Tt,” Damien scoffed and stomped out of the room.

“Well I’m looking forward to learning about all of that, I think it’ll be fun! Ignore him, he’ll come around. Just, uhh, watch him, That won’t be the last time he tries to stab you. If anything it’s a bonding activity for him,” Danny joked as lightly as he could before hurrying after his twin, Bruce on his heels.

Part 2: here

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Tutoring and Tension

Dom! Leighton Murray x Alt fem! reader smut

A/N: Hi! This is my first time writing for something non ST fandom in a while so please be patient with me!

CW: sex, smut, porn with plot?, Leighton x reader, fem! reader (v) desperate! reader, alt reader, piercings and tattoos mentioned, makeup mentioned, oral sex (v), overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, sub! reader, dom! Leighton, use of toys (vibrator), power play, aftercare, etc.

When you first moved to Vermont, you knew there would be people like Leighton Murray. Rich, spoiled, kind of mean. 

What you didn’t guess, however, was that they would maybe be gay. 

Which was a shock to you while studying at the library, muted whispers at the table across from you. 

“I know! I know! I was shocked too! But then she pulled me into her bed and…” 

Muted squeals came from the table behind you as you rolled your eyes. You came to Essex for the fact that you could be away from your small town judgment at a prestigious school, but were starting to regret every second of it. People weren’t receptive to you, and most of the students were rich assholes who would sooner tell you that your diy patch jacket was clearly ‘Not Saint Laurent’, and call you ‘cute’ when you mentioned thrifting. 

And it didn’t help that most of the student population was scared of your look. Tattoos, piercings, dark clothing, and platform shoes. Sometimes, even colorful hair. You were a walking social pariah. You knew it, but you didn’t care. You were here to make a name for yourself through extracurriculars and studies. To follow your dreams. 

If only math wasn’t kicking your ass. 

You could never focus. Sitting behind Leighton Murray meant you had to watch the back of her perfect blonde head and that you could smell her perfume (something classy and brand name, probably, all you knew is it made her smell like florals and vanilla). You kept getting C’s and D’s on papers and tests, too distracted by Leighton’s perfect handwriting. 

And it wasn’t until you got an F that you finally plucked up the nerve to talk to the professor, begging for help. And of course…they brought Leighton over. 

“Could you help Y/N with this class, please? They’re struggling a lot.” 

Leighton looked at you with a smile, but her eyes said she wanted to strangle you. 

“Sure, Prof. I’ll definitely tutor her.” 

The two of you were sitting in Leighton’s dorm, looking over the books, your heart racing. Sure, you wore dark makeup and clothes and people were scared of you…But Leighton was much scarier. She was pretty and smart and damn blunt. You had gone over some of the problems and were still feeling your brain turn to mush next to her. You were pretending to heavily inspect an equation when she suddenly turned to look at you. 

“A-Are you, like, a goth? Sorry, I just…I don't understand this whole…Hot Topic aesthetic…thing. No offense,” Leighton blurted out, her brows pinched together as she had an awkward smile on her face. 

You laughed a bit, smiling. Her confusion was funny, despite her harshness. “Goth is a music genre…but I do like it. So kinda? I just like dark clothes…They make me feel like me.” 

She nodded a bit before putting up her book, setting it aside as she scooted closer, eyeing you. 

“Don’t tattoos hurt? You have…a lot.” 

You nodded, feeling heat travel up into your cheeks, stomach fluttering. “They hurt a bit. But I like them. They make me feel kinda like an art gallery, ya know?”

You noted her eyes traveling over your collarbones and to your cleavage, before turning to your books again, cheeks slightly pink. 

“So anyways, do you get the gist?” 

You furrowed your brows, smiling awkwardly, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, math just isn’t my thing.” 

She rolled her eyes, expression snarky as she smirked. “Let me guess…your thing is arts or social sciences…maybe even English?” 

You held up your hands, a devilish grin on your face as you attempted to match her energy, your cheeks heating up. “Guilty.” 

She tutted, eyes rolling before looking down at the paper. “Well, we’ve got to figure out some way to incentivize your learning…” 

You stared, slack-jawed, as she crossed her legs in her mini skirt, perfect pink mouth chewing on the end of her pen. She seemed deep in thought. She was like Cher in Clueless, the perfect prim and well-bred American girl…and you had such a huge crush on Cher as a child. 

She seemed to look over at you before smiling a bit, clearly catching you staring at her and your ever-growing embarrassment. She tilted her head at you, a smug expression on her face. “Do you like treats?” 

Your face heated at her sudden attention as you furrowed your brow, laughing awkwardly. “W-what? Like candy?,” You asked, voice cracking because your mind was flooded with other…ideas.

Leighton smirked and fingered the metal loop on your choker with one perfect manicured hand. Her voice was low and sultry, her eyes mischievous. “Something like that.” 

She leaned forward a bit more, whispering in your ear. “I see the way you look at me in class. It’s a bit pathetic really,” She coos condescendingly, her voice sending chills up your arm. “Big scary girl like you…all whipped over a little spoiled rich girl? What would everyone at school say?” 

You squirmed in your chair, your thighs squeezing together to relieve the throbbing need beginning to grow. “I..I just, I don’t-” 

She cut you off by squeezing your face in her hand. You felt your desire grow, your heart racing. 

“Shut up.” 

She let go of your face, standing up and smiling, her expression dangerous and yet so enticing. She crossed her arms, looking down on you.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to work on a problem. You get it right, you get a treat…get it wrong…and I’ll test your limits. Got it?,” she asked, voice radiating authority and lust. You nodded quickly in agreement, the heat in your cheeks growing and traveling to the tips of your ears. 

She grinned, pointing at a problem while still standing. “Get started, baby.” 

About an hour in and your mind had become a puddle. You were face down on Leighton’s bed, your head in her pillow, no doubt smudging eyeliner and mascara on her satin cases. She was standing near you, her wand pressed against your clit as you whined, your nails clawing at the bed. She whispered in your ear, voice low and dripping with lust. 

“Aww, is someone wanting to cum?” 

You whined, your clit throbbing at the constant attention and from the overstimulation of the last 3 orgasms she had given you. You couldn’t see her but knew her expression was probably that of an evil grin, her eyes glinting with pleasure at the mess you had become. 

“Please, please, please, please…I’ll fix the problem…please..,” You sobbed, fists clawing at the bed, earning yourself a spank on the ass, Leighton gripping your hair and pulling your head to look at you, your vision of her blurred through your tears. 

“Don’t fucking mess up my bed.” 

You nodded helplessly, thoughts only swimming with Leighton, Leighton, Leighton. She dropped your head before finally diving into your pussy, her tongue delving into your folds from behind as she ate your out, the vibrator against your clit still. You cried out,  your body about to snap, your thighs shaking and clit pulsing painfully. 

You could barely hear her over your moaning, but managed to hear the muffled ‘cum for me.’ 

So you finally snapped, body shaking as you felt waves of pleasure wash over you, your eyes rolling back and shut, your thighs shaking as you came, feeling Leighton moan against you and seeming to ride you through your high, your body worn out and practically collapsing at the end. 

You laid there for a minute, hearing some shuffling before you felt a warm wet cloth wiping you off, and Leighton’s soft manicured hand rubbing your back. 

“Hey,” She whispered softly, “Turn over.” 

So you did, brain still floating as Leighton softly wiped at your face with some cool makeup wipes, cooing softly in your ear. 

“You did wonderful, baby.” 

You felt her softly remove some of your jewelry and leftover clothing before dressing you in some comfy pajamas, silky soft like her own, before she kissed your forehead. You were slowly coming back to yourself as she snuggled up next to you, eyebrows raised as she looked down at you, smiling softly. 

“So.. I imagine you like my tutoring style?” 

You let out a giggle, feeling your cheeks heat as you sheepishly offered. “Is it that obvious?” 

She grinned flirtatiously at you, hands rubbing at your side as she whispered cheekily, “You’re gonna be acing this class in no time with my help.” 

You grinned. 

You couldn’t wait for more math.

[words-4u]

down to their bones

pairing: jordan li x f!reader

wc: 875

warnings: none, a bit angsty, minor jealousy, lots of fluff

a/n: listened to your bones by clesea culter while writing this and kind of used it as an inspo - don't have to listen to it but you should for vibes especially near the end

hero ethics was once a class you were excited for but now that you were a month into the course, you realize it's not at all what you expected.

all you do is watch a shit ton of videos and theorize hypotheticals, there's nothing even remotely physical involved which is what you really wanted the most.

instead here you were with lia, your partner for an upcoming presentation that dean shetty insisted the class do after she took over for brink. 

“you know i still can’t believe shetty wants us to speak for 20 full minutes on ‘aero dynamics of human flight’” you said looking at the late professor brink’s book before tossing it to the side. “i can’t even fly!”

“well, i can and it doesn’t take a rocket science to figure out how,” lia laughed. she was sprawled on your double bed that was littered with two copies of the book, laptops, pens and little stickies. “i’m a hands on learner, i need to be out there in the open skies.”

she fell back on your bed and in to a fake daydream. 

“i think someone needs to get their head out of the clouds and help me with this presentation or else we’ll fail,” you leaned in playfully tapping her forehead with a highlighter. of course this is the exact most your significant other, jordan, walks in to your room.

“uuuh…hello?” jordan said. they walked in clearly having come back from the gym, in their baggy shorts, cropped blue sweater and their short bob in a ponytail.

they were expecting to find you on your own, wanting to spend the rest of the evening with you, not to find you on your bed with another girl.

“hi babe,” you raced to jordan and placed your hands on their shoulders as you kissed them. you knew something was off the second they didn’t kiss back and you were right because as you pulled back, their eyes were glued to your bed. where lia was. 

“i’m sorry, and who are you?” jordan snapped. you were slightly taken aback because this was a side of jordan you haven't seen.

“jordan, that’s lia, my partner for hero ethics and lia this is jordan, my partner outside of hero ethics and everything else,” you smiled between the two people in your room.

“yeah, they are ranked number 5 in the whole school, y/n, i know who they are. i just didn’t know you were dating a star student,” lia said looking impressed. 

“you didn’t know?” jordan parroted. “she didn’t know?”

“we got paired up like 4 hours ago on this project. it wasn’t exactly at the top of my list of things to speak to her about.”  you whispered. 

you turned to lia. “um, i’m just gonna talk to jordan outside for like 5 minutes, you can take a break if you want.”

lia gave two thumps up before pulling out her vphone.

you grabbed jordan by the wrist and dragged them out of your dorm and into the hall way. there were a couple students walking up and down the hall and some more in a corner chatting about the latest viral video from the Seven but overall it was empty enough to have this much needed conversation.

by the time you shut your door, jordan had shifted to their male form.

“what the hell is wrong you?” you asked poking their shoulder. 

jordan clenched their jaw. “what are you talking about?”

“w-what am i talking about?” you asked back. “i’m talking about the fact that lia is lucky you don’t have laser eyes or she’d fucking toast. literally!”

“i walk into your room and you have another girl on your bed, y/n, how am i supposed to feel?”

the look on their face was suddenly transparent and it dawned on you.

“you’re jealous? over a classmate? is that it?” you asked, this time your voice carrying a softer tone. 

jordan didn’t look too pleased with the fact that they let something so trivial get to them.

“j, use your words,”

“you guys just looked so close,” they said looking at you with their big brown eyes.

you sighed. “well, we’re not. but we do need to get along cause this project is worth 30% and you know your girl can’t and won’t fail,” you said which caused them to smile a bit.

“besides,” you continued pushing their back against the wall and wrapping your hands around their neck. “i’m sort of already in love with someone, like right down to their bones, and as long as they are in my life no one else stands a chance.”

jordan leaned their forehead against yours. “i’m sorry for how i reacted. it was shitty.”

“apology accepted,” you whispered. “now give me a kiss. a proper one this time,”

jordan brushed their lips against your before kissing the air out of you. it was getting a little too hot for two people standing in a hallway and you were never one for major pda so you pulled away smiling.

“okay now you're just being a distraction,” you grinned up at them.

“okay, fine i’ll go but just to make sure, it was me who you were talking about, right?”

you chuckled playfully shoving them down the hall. “yes, you big idiot. now go and come back in 2 hours when you can really make it up to me.”

jordan smirked. “i’ll be counting down the seconds."

if you want to request something, there's a link in my bio (the more detailed the better <3)

[zynari]

♨ Of Cheesecakes and Reports

― Barista!Kazuha x Gn!reader

― Sometimes, a little connection could make all the difference, and even the smallest gestures could spark hope and warmth in our busiest lives.

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 665

Notes: Half of this are based on my own experience hehe. Thank you for 100+ followers! Enjoy reading!

The aroma of freshly ground coffee filled the room as you sat at your regular table in the corner of the busy coffee shop. Even in this warm environment, you could feel a storm building within of you. Various tabs, research articles, and an incomplete report that appeared to be mocking you every time you looked at it cluttered your laptop screen. You massaged your temples in an attempt to release the tension there, but it didn't help.

Your mind was racing with deadlines and grades as you sipped your half-cold cappuccino. Snippets of laughing and conversation came from the other tables, but everything seemed so far away. Your worry made it harder to focus, and the outside world became a haze.

Damn reports…

All of a sudden, a cheesecake appears on your table and you look up.

There, stood a guy who appears to be the same age as you. He’s wearing an apron so you thought that he works here.

“Hey,” he said, offering a smile. “I noticed you’ve been glaring at your laptop screen for a while now. Here's a cheesecake to cheer you up. It’s on the house.”

You shake your head, surprised. “Oh, I couldn’t—”

“Really, it’s just a little pick-me-up. Trust me, it helps,” he insisted, carefully moving the plate of cheesecake next to your laptop.

You hesitated, but the sweet scent was irresistible.

“Thanks,” you said softly, taking a small portion and tasted it. “This is amazing.."

He smiled wider, glad to see a flicker of joy in your expression. “I’m glad you like it. It’s a new recipe I’ve been experimenting with.”

You took another bite, feeling a small wave of comfort wash over you. You look at the nametag on his apron. “Thank you, Kazuha. I really needed this. I’ve been stressing over this report for days.”

Kazuha came back to the counter and continued wiping the cups.

“I get that,” he said, leaning against the counter. “I’m a college student too, and it can be overwhelming. What’s your report about?”

“It’s about history, timelines and origins. You know how difficult science can get sometimes.” you sighed, “I just can’t seem to organize my thoughts.”

Kazuha nodded, genuinely interested. “That sounds difficult, indeed. History can be shits sometimes.”

“Right?” you sighed and leans on your chair.

Feeling comfortable, the two of you continue talking and sharing experiences about your college life.

You were surprised when Kazuha said that he studies at the same university as you. He’s also a year older than you, that’s why you never see each other at school. He said that he’s taking up computer science since he failed to secure a slot with his desired course, which is literature.

Part of you secretly wished that you see or bump into each other at school one day, and you mentally smiled at the thought. It sounds impossible given your busy schedules, but a simple wish can still be considered a hope.

After a while, you glanced at the clock, realizing you had been talking for nearly half an hour. “Wow, I didn’t mean to take up your break.”

“It’s all good. I enjoyed it,” Kazuha replied, “Sometimes you just need a little distraction.”

“I really appreciate it. You’ve made my day a lot better.”

“Anytime,” he said, a hint of warmth in his voice. “And if you need another cheesecake or just want to chat while you work, I’m here.”

You nodded, experiencing a level of comfort you hadn't anticipated. “I might just take you up on that.”

You noticed that you were less nervous and more concentrated when you went back to your report. You struck into a typing session, your fingers caressing the keys with newfound enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, from behind the counter, Kazuha observed you with a faint smile. Feeling lighter and a little bit proud, he went back to his work, secretly hoping that you would come visit again.

[carionto]

Ignition

Once the Galactic Coalition had (without other realistic options) given Humanity an equal position among the governing bodies, despite the fact they were a single planet race, the initial dread of what they would do eased. A little. When they showed how they powered their impossibly massive vessels, the fears of our ancestors who deemed the Responsibility Barrier a necessity reemerged a thousandfold.

The Humans, with a slight grin, said "Solar power, of course."

They took a delegation within the bowels of one of their smaller, civilian research craft, which was still bulkier, better armored, and more worryingly - better armed than most flagships of the other predator-races. Were we not able to see with our own eyes their actual, what they aptly call, Dreadnoughts, from distances you would normally need a telescope, we would have assumed this was their mightiest warship. Yet it was just one of hundreds.

As we passed through the ludicrously thick and seemingly excessive number of bulkheads and shielded and compartmentalized hallways, the ever present hum of raw power beneath our feet gradually became nerve-wracking. What is that? It reminded us of stories told by those who traveled near Black Holes - of the sheer vastness and infinite apathy they felt from the all consuming entities.

A dozen or so biometric gates later, we were greeted by a gigantic sphere, easily a hundred and fifty meters in diameter, an abomination of reinforced panels, wiring, heat pumps, and countless tubes, hanging from numerous power conduits in the middle of an even more massive chamber from behind our observation platform. A true, pure fusion reactor. And there were Humans, in full protective suits at least, working directly next to it within the ominous chamber.

"We wanted to give you a demonstration of our advances in the past millennia, so please observe as we turn on this one."

This one? As in... the power we were feeling was not from this monstrosity? We had to ask.

"Oh, of course not, this ship has three such reactors, we recently performed a full maintenance on this and decided to delay reactivating it for you to see."

The delegates' mouths (or equivalents) were agape. Sure, nuclear fusion is known far and wide, but due to it's high potential for cataclysmic failure, or worse, deliberate destruction, the vast majority of such reactors were mostly found in deep space stations where solar radiation was scarce. Background radiation converters, while efficient at what they do, were nowhere sufficient enough for anything more than as passive emergency battery chargers. And no civilization kept fusion reactors anywhere near populated or colonizeable planets.

Yet here they were, looking at one nearly five times larger than any other known or attempted. And there were three on this ship alone. They counted hundreds of similar size, a few dozen of their Dreadnoughts, thousands of smaller vessels ferrying between the stations, the surface, and other larger ships. Countless world ending bombs-in-waiting right around the Humans' only home.

"Yeah, us science ships get the biggest ones, kinda need the extra oomph for our projects. The military kids like their redundancies, so theirs are smaller."

A slight relief.

"I think their newest capital ship, the UGSF Caliban of York, has fifteen, each about half ours."

A few delegates passed out. Their attendants rushed to salvage some dignity, but Captain Knoslark of this vessel, The Radiant Dusk at Everest, didn't seem surprised or offended and simply waited for the delegation to regain composure before continuing.

"This is my favorite part."

He said quietly with a glint in his eyes, then his tone changed to a more formal and authoritative one.

"Chief Engineer Ira Tameki, status of Reactor 2."

"All green, Captain. She's ready to purr to life at your command."

"Good. Then," his tone shifted once again, to a far more theatrical one as he took a pose, half turning his body and extending his right hand towards the reactor, index finger pointing dramatically. As he pronounced every syllable of the next word, there was a silent resigned sigh from his crew:

"ignition!"

Outwardly, nothing of significance changed. The engineers clicked at their consoles, bars slowly rose and everyone was deliberately doing their best to make it clear they were ignoring the fact that the captain was still in the same pose.

There was a muffled thump from the chamber, then the hum beneath their feet became a rumble for a few moments before steadying back to a now slightly more intense almost-buzz. Physically, nothing all that noteworthy. Mentally, everyone in the delegation was in true shock as they fully understood what they had just witnessed done all too casually:

The birth of a star.

[mirapril]

Hi, I would like some Castlevania headcanons please! About Alucard having a younger sibling but the sibling is still a child :D

OMGGG MY FIRST REQUEST!!! Ty sm for the request <3

so sorry I didn't see it until now 😭

since gender wasn't specified ill make reader gn

also this is my first time writing headcanons so I hope this is good enough😭

Feel free to give me any feedback or constructive criticism <3

Alucard x child!sibling!gn!reader Headcanons

fluffy brother/little sibling stuff

word count: 557

warnings: none, a little bit angsty at the end

When BigBrother!Alucard met you for the first time he swore on his life that he'd always protect you no matter what. no man nor beast will ever be able to harm you. not while he was around

While your mother was treating people of the village and your father was down in his lab researching, your big brother would play with you to keep you from causing any trouble

You’d play things like hide and seek together, which wasn’t really fair since he was as way more experienced with his powers than you are at your young age :(

"Adrian, this isn't fair! you're way older and faster than me!"

"You're the one who said you wanted to have a race y/n. You'll never get faster if you don't try you know."

When I say he’d do anything for you I mean it

He’d especially get into trouble with his father for you

On one occasion he had taken one of your fathers “pretty” science tubes but ended up knocking something important onto some also very important blueprints

Your father kept a very close eye on you both when you were around his lab after that

BigBrother!Alucard is also in charge of making sure you don’t get yourself lost in the woods around your home

You’d purposefully leave the house without telling anyone just so your older brother would have to find you

You loved when he had to chase you around big trees and across wide ponds with rocks surrounding them

Of course, he could easily catch you but usually he’d let you have your fun

He did have mini heart attacks whenever you’d run too fast around the steep and slippery rocks

His main worry was you falling and hitting your head on a rock or falling into the river

"Y/n! Watch where you're running! You don't want to run into another tree do you?"

Also BigBrother!Alucard is basically your tutor

Your parents taught you too, but you preferred your brother's teachings because he made lessons more fun for you

There was a time when your whole family went on one of your fathers' trips since he loved to travel so much

You got to see all sorts of sights together :)

For obvious reasons, your family didn't get out much, so it was a nice change of scenery for the four of you

After the death of your mother and father Alucard was the only one you had left

Alucard was worried about how your little brain was going to process such a loss, but he did his best to comfort you

It was hard for him to act like not only a brother, but a mother and father for you

You were very much brighter than most children at your age so you saw how much it was taking a toll on your brother

You tried to comfort him the best you could

"Don't worry Adrian. I don't feel so lonely because you look so much like mama! It's like I have you and her in one person :)"

He usually just laughed it off when you said strange things like that

He was also sad that you were literally growing up way faster than regular children should

He missed when you were small enough for him to cradle you in one arm

i got sad at the end cuz i was listening to music and i thought about reader and alucard growing up together :(

[waynewifey]

aftermath — b.w

part one - ‘dear mr. wayne’

part two - ‘aftermath’

part three. - ‘aporia’

summary: you escaped that warehouse, but part of you died in there. now, your husband helps you grief your own loss while trying to not murder your relationship.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: drama & angst romance

warnings: mentions of sex and alcohol; mentions of ptsd, anxiety and it’s symptoms; hospital setting; dubious science; dubious law enforcement

word count: 2.9k

A/N: thank you for all the positive feedback on part 1! there will be a part three because this post would get too long, so let me know if you’ll like to be tagged in that. my biggest challenge writing this was trying to give bruce the start of a redemption arc, please tell me if you think it worked. comments and constructive criticism is appreciated!

gotham, USA.

the continuous beeping sound wakes you up.

your eyes are still closed, blocking the intense light over your head. your senses are taken by the familiar scent: sandalwood, cinnamon and lemongrass soap. it almost feels like you're home.

but your feet are senseless from the cold and the bedsheets faintly smell like chlorine. there's a pinching ache in your arm and the scenario is complete. oh how you hate hospitals.

"how are you feeling?" back at home, bruce had learned the difference in your breathing as you woke up, which made pretending to sleep hard enough for you to give up. you open your eyes, finding yourself in a luxurious room. if it wasn't for the IV on your left side, it could easily be mistaken for a five star hotel.

bruce sat at a large light green armchair, about four feet from your left hand. you couldn't tell by his voice, but he looked exhausted. for once, he's wearing sweatpants. the puffy face and swollen eyes show he hasn't had much sleep. you, on the other hand, feel like you've slept for a thousand years.

"i have no idea. what's up with me?" his sigh has your heart racing and the fear of being a liability falls over you. a comforting hand lays on yours, his warms fingers grounding you to remember the last time you were awake. it felt like a nightmare and you desperately hoped it was. instead, the pain comes in flashes, the image of your husband being shot and the feeling of hitting ice cold water do too. it's all just so horrible you wish it wasn't real.

"they told me you were going to be fine, but i don't know." bruce feels as if a burden has come off his chest finally seeing you move. the last couple of days have been a torture of expectation and blame for him. "the doctor had you in an induced coma. you had a concussion on the river. your stomach was stitched up. he said..." he stops for a moment, this is obviously way too hard for him to go through again. bruce hasn't left the room ever since he was discharged. everyday, for two weeks, he kept overthinking the night before and the day during. if he had stayed up and talked about your relationship, you wouldn't be in that bed. if he looked for you in the morning, if he noticed your absence at work, if he hadn't put his phone on silent mode... there were a million of things that he could've done different so the most important person in his world wouldn't have gone through all of that. "he said the ptsd would worsen your recovery. this morning the nurses told me you were better, so i have to believe them. that's my only hope."

you need a moment to take in the words, finally deciding that you didn't want to discuss your health. there were way better people to pay attention to that in the building and it would only make you anxious. you can't help but stare at his eyes, your mind bringing up the image of your husband choking the man that kept you hostage.

"you almost killed him." the tone is of disapproval, bruce couldn't be any more confused. he frowns. bile arises from his stomach leaving a acid taste to his mouth.

"i would've, of course i would. y/n, you had no idea what i would do for you. i would fight the devil himself if it meant keeping you safe. that's why i do what i do. the batman, the politics, it's all for you. if i can make this world 1% better for you, for our children, to live on, it's worth it." his gulp is loud, adam's apple going up and down, showing how dry his throat was. the following words have his voice shaking, almost disappearing. "but fate keeps telling me that i'm not enough. no matter what i do, you keep getting hurt and i just-" bruce stares the floor. that's something he always did when saying harsh things, avoiding eye contact and not letting tears slip away. however, this time it doesn't work at all. he can hear his heart tearing up with every syllable, the physical pain striking his chest. he wants to beg you to forgive him, but there is a noble thing to do. his words are cut off by the creaking of the door and the doctor's footsteps. he's smiling, like this isn't hell. bruce shrinks into the couch, making himself ignorable.

"so... i have good news!" the blonde says, clipboard in hand. "we need to run some other tests and an x-ray, but you seem to be healing pretty well. we'll hold you in for a couple of days just to make sure there aren't any complications with your body and then you can go home. how are you feeling so far?"

you're surprised by the sudden change in the conversation and your brain needs a moment to think about something helpful. you do a body scan trying to identify any pain, but overall you feel good.

"hungry. like, starving." the doctor smiles, saying he'll get you a meal as soon as possible. he warns you that you may not be able to eat much just yet, something about your stomach shrinking. you nod, already feeling irritated by the recovery process. then he leaves and there's a loud silence until you get back on the previous topic.

"you just what?" you expect bruce to sit correctly again, but he doesn't. he looks so small in the shadows, so comfortable. you really don't want to talk about that anymore, but curiosity takes over. he doesn't respond immediately, so your heart pounds over the anxiety of hearing bad news. suddenly you feel so tired, you want him to take over all the decisions like he usually does. today, though, he seems open to suggestions, like his own ideas weren't suitable. how could you know someone so well but still have no idea what's on his mind?

"i think maybe you shouldn't be associated with me. any part of me." the world stops with your breathing. bruce wishes he could take it back. going over this conversation in his head made it seem easier to say out loud. you've been married for three years. you knew his ambitions for even longer. you chose this life and he has no right to take that from you. still, the ring on your finger weighs you down.

— DENIAL

you've learned to appreciate the winter winds. at the top of the wayne tower there were barely any, but tonight they caress your face with the gift of numbness. breathing in is both refreshing and painful. the scratched teacup warms your fingers, a small memoir from your childhood home, from times that won't ever come back. you used to be down there, frightened by dark alleys and gunshots. now you're on top of the world and nothing, not even that psychopath, can take that from you. you did relearn discomfort. ache. cold. it all made you appreciate life even more. in fact, the month that followed your hospital discharge was pure bliss. something about renewal, about rebirth.

bruce watched you from the living room, the wrinkled glass distorting your silhouette in the balcony. that was a good representation of how he currently saw you, slightly blurred and shaken. his cup would usually hold whiskey, neat, but it holds coffee instead. you keep saying you're fine and waking up screaming in the middle of the night. then he would hold you and you would be actually fine. so now he's staying awake through the night, sleeping three or four hours during the day while alfred takes care of you. of course they don't let you know, because you've denied every explicit help. as you get ready to sleep, bruce gets ready to stay in bed through the night, alone with his thoughts. part of him was scared to sleep. he was sleeping when you were taken, there's no way he would let that happen again.

it has been almost a year since he stopped patrolling the city. the news cover murders and robberies every day. alfred makes sure to come up with something for both bruce and you to do at those hours. he's taken a pause in promoting his candidacy, he couldn't handle the public eye for now. still, the marketing team insists that your kidnapping was good media, even though he never officially spoke on it. they publish notes about being away, about taking care of family. he can't see how that could be good in any way.

you open the glass doors, flashing your husband a sweet smile. you're in a red silk robe and your hair is still perfectly done. perfectionism was one of the side effects, as one may call it, of the trauma. you visited a psychiatrist about a month ago, since bruce insisted on it, and he marked all of the habits that made you happy as unhealthy. you never told bruce what was said in that appointment in hopes that he'll get over it. him treating you like a porcelain doll made you nauseous.

"ready for bed?" you ask, standing behind the couch and hugging his shoulders. you breathe in his scent, remembering the day you met. you were an executive in an overseas wayne enterprises headquarters that had just gotten transferred to gotham. they offered you six figures to take the second in command position, so you obviously got to know the first in command. in the beginning, you honestly thought he was an entitled brat that didn't work at all. overtime, you realised how much he cared about the company and how much he was pining over you. you gave him an opening and he asked you out. six months into the relationship, he told you about batman. he knew, somehow, that you would be forever.

he sets in bed while you're touching up in the bathroom. the night had to be perfect. you've hadn't made love ever since the fight and ovulation week had gotten you a little crazy. you check yourself in the mirror, thanking the hormones making you sexy. you crawl into his side, slower than needed, hair falling over the shoulder. "hi" you whisper, sitting diagonally from him and cuddling a bit. he says hi back, with a chuckle. you give him a little peck, which is all you've been doing for all of this time. he stays still, not pulling back but also not doing anything either. you try to take it as a good sign. your lips then reach his jawline and neck, leaving wet kisses all over his skin. your hands touch his shirt and go underneath it, tracing your fingers along his defined abdomen. a hand holds your arm, pushing you away. your smile fades and you frown your face to him.

"touch me, bruce" you not so much ask, it's more like a plead. he sighs, channelling all his will to stick with his decision. he puts a string of your hair behind your ear and you think he's going to properly kiss you.

"i don't think we should do this. you're not well enough yet." he doesn't sound so certain, but it hits you like a hard brick wall. this is harder for him than he lets it show, he's a man after all. even so, he can't see you like that for the moment. he sees you scattered and feels like it's his responsibility to assemble you again.

"i'm perfectly fine." you state like a grumpy proud child who's just lost a soccer tournament. he sees right through it.

"you're not, you're in denial." that simple word makes your mood swing: denial. it's the same thing the stupid psychiatrist told you. you can even hear his smoker's voice echoing in the office. it isn't true. you got over it, that's all. maybe some people take more time to do so, but you did just like that. you had a life to get back to.

you get off the bed and pull your robe tight again. "i'm sleeping in the guest room. good night." he doesn't follow and lets you be. in all honesty, he didn't know if he would have the strength to turn you down a second time.

bruce tries to fight the tiredness. even with caffeine running high in his blood system, he falls asleep for a while. the guest room is far enough that he doesn't hear the muffled sobbing. he wakes up not so long after with screaming. his heart races as he runs down the stairs, following the sound of your voice. his mind starts thinking the worst, but he finds you only having nightmares. he crawls in bed with you, without being kicked off. he lets you lay on his chest, one arm over your shoulder. his body warms yours up and you finally stop spasming. it doesn't take too long for both to fall asleep.

— ANGER

the penthouse is quiet. the winter is almost at it's end, so the pre-spring rays lighten the living room bringing warmness to your solitude. you sit uncomfortably, unknown to this feeling of absence. you don't feel him in the tower.

bruce said there was a non deniable meeting with his press team, because eventually he would have to go back to promoting his election, which would take place in the fall. you acted unbothered. yet, he's barely been gone for an hour and you can already feel the anxiety crippling. you only left the apartment for doctors appointment, still too scared to walk on the streets. and he was always there, too, holding your hand. so this is different.

alfred is downstairs upgrading the batman suit with a new technology he created. he invited you, but the darkness of the cave was definitely unrequited. that's how you end up lounging, in silence, staring at window. finally, you decide to try to watch something. you shouldn't really do that, because something could trigger a panic attack. but you're fine, you really are. enough with this nonsense.

shuffling through the channels, nothing gets your attention until there's a juridical show on. the judge is talking to the prosecutor, apparently, announcing the next witness to testify. the camera angle changes to the courtroom and expectant eyes turn to the wooden door. it opens slowly to reveal a knight in dark armour. you hold your breath. the jury buzzes and the room gets loud. heavy steps make his cape swing behind him, as he makes his way to the stand.

bruce had to make a tough decision. while you and him had been cleared from the trial, you with the psychiatrist report on PTSD and him with the marriage, the lawyers mentioned that the batman's testimony could be decisive for the accused to be found guilty by the jury. the public respected him. either they loved or feared him. so, even though he's never made such a public appearance, less even speaking, he had to go to that trial. he owed it to you. but you could never know. he didn't want to spark your interest in the case, you shouldn't have to go through it again. he lays his hand on the constitution and swears on it.

it doesn't feel real until you hear the judge.

"members of the jury, i present to you the batman."

it feels like a dagger has gone through your chest. there's a mix of feelings that have you almost throwing up. you feel like screaming and crying and blowing the fucking world up. how could he do that to you? that was your case, your life. you stand up only to find your legs trembling. you want to run there and testify. you want to tell the world the horrors you've been through and show them, including your husband, that you had overcome it. he was calling you weak right in you face and you couldn't bear the feeling of being chained up again. you're stuck in this hell of a tower like some futile damsel.

you stomp your way to the elevator, your mind set on leaving the building. but your heart stops you in your tracks pounding and almost vomiting itself out; you feel your toes numb and your legs can't stop shaking. the baritone voice still sounds in the apartment. you run to it and scream at the TV. you throw a pillow on it. that doesn't cool you down. your body is in motion while all you can see is red. you knock the coffee table down, shattering the glass and scattering like ashes the books that were on it on the floor. the noise still doesn't muffle his voice and you can't find the fucking remote control. you stumble across the room, throwing lamps and vases around. everything is falling down, in every sense. you grab a candle and let out a scream when you hit the TV with it, the screen going black and the noise finally ceasing.

alfred finds the room trashed, with you kneeling on the broken glass. there's blood on the floor. your body trembles with every sob. he cautiously steps towards you. you feel out of breath, tears burning your eyes. he holds you like a mother does.

"i'm sorry- i'm so sorry," he shakes his head, saying it doesn't matter. you wanna say it does, but there's simply nothing leaving your mouth apart from "i'm so sorry"

part three - aporia

[onlyonetifosi]

It was a warm summer day in the small town of Monte Carlo, where the Leclerc family resided. Charles and Arthur, the two eldest siblings, were already making waves in the world of motorsports. Their passion for racing burned bright, captivating the hearts of fans worldwide. But there was a forgotten ember in the family, YN Leclerc, the youngest sibling, who had always yearned to be a part of that racing world.

From a young age, YN had watched her brothers zoom past in their go-karts, leaving behind trails of dust and dreams. Her heart ached with a desire to be on the track, to feel the adrenaline course through her veins as she chased the checkered flag. However, the Leclerc family couldn't afford to support her aspirations. Racing was an expensive venture, and they had already invested everything in Charles and Arthur's careers.

Undeterred, YN sought solace in the humble surroundings of her father's garage. Amongst the wrenches, oil stains, and the smell of gasoline, a new passion sparked within her. She discovered a natural aptitude for engineering and car mechanics. With unwavering determination, she spent hours studying the intricate workings of engines, dissecting every bolt, and understanding the science behind speed.

As YN's skills grew, she found herself becoming part of her brothers' racing team. While Charles in F1 and Arthur in F2 showcased their driving prowess on the track, YN worked tirelessly behind the scenes. She fine-tuned their cars, ensuring every engine was in optimal condition, and adjusted suspension settings to suit different tracks. Her keen eye for detail allowed her to spot potential issues before they escalated, making her an invaluable asset.

"YN, mon cher, you have an incredible talent," Pascale Leclerc, their maman, said one evening as she watched YN tinker with an engine. "Your father would have been proud of you."

YN looked up, her hands still covered in grease. "Do you really think so, maman?"

Pascale smiled warmly. "Of course, my dear. Your father always believed in you, just as I do. Your brothers are making their mark in the racing world, but you, ma petite, you have the power to leave your own legacy."

Slowly but steadily, YN began to gain recognition for her technical prowess. Fellow engineers and mechanics admired her innate talent and the relentless dedication she brought to the table. She became a mentor to younger enthusiasts, imparting her knowledge and nurturing their passion for cars.

Yet, despite her achievements, YN couldn't escape the shadow of her brothers. She longed to carve out her own identity within the racing community.

One evening, as YN stood in the garage, contemplating her future, Lorenzo Leclerc, Arthur's manager, approached her. "YN, I've been watching you closely," he said in a low, gentle tone. "You're more than just a mechanic. Your understanding of the sport is unparalleled. Have you ever considered becoming a race strategist?"

YN's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and curiosity washing over her. "A race strategist? But I've always been behind the scenes..."

Lorenzo smiled. "Exactly. You've been the unsung hero, the one who ensures everything runs smoothly. Imagine having the power to make split-second decisions that can determine the outcome of a race. You have what it takes, YN."

As the seasons changed and years passed, YN navigated the world of motorsports with grace and resilience. She attended races, observing the tension and excitement of the pits, and strategized race plans alongside her brothers and their team. YN's insights and meticulous preparations became instrumental in their success. Her brothers, recognizing her invaluable contributions, spoke of her achievements with pride, giving her the recognition she deserved.

But amidst the triumphs, there was still a lingering ache in YN's heart. The memory of their father, Hervé Leclerc, haunted her. His passion for racing had been the foundation on which their dreams were built, and his untimely death had left a void in their lives.

One day, while they were all gathered in their family home, reminiscing about their father's love for the sport, YN mustered the courage to speak.

"Maman, Charles, Arthur," she began, her voice laced with emotion. "I miss him. I miss him so much. Every time I step foot in the garage, I can still feel his presence. He believed in me, didn't he?"

Pascale's eyes glistened with tears as she embraced her youngest child. "Yes, my darling. Your father believed in all of you. He saw the fire in your eyes, the same fire that burns within Charles and Arthur. Your path may be different, but you carry his spirit with you."

Charles and Arthur stood on either side of YN, their expressions filled with a mix of understanding and support.

"You've proven yourself time and time again, YN," Charles said, his voice firm yet gentle. "You're not just a mechanic or a strategist. You're our sister, and you're an integral part of our team. We couldn't have come this far without you."

Arthur nodded in agreement. "You've found your own place in the racing world, YN. You've forged a path that's uniquely yours. And we're proud to call you our sister."

Through her journey, YN discovered that her passion for engineering was not just a consolation prize; it was her calling. She found fulfillment in the knowledge that her work played a significant role in her brothers' victories. YN's dream of racing may have taken a detour, but she had found a purpose that was just as exhilarating.

In time, the world began to recognize YN Leclerc as more than just the sister of racing prodigies. She became a respected figure in the motorsports industry, known for her technical brilliance and unwavering determination.

As YN stood on the podium beside her brothers, the roar of the crowd echoing in her ears, she looked out at the sea of faces. In that moment, she realized she had found her own place in the fast-paced, adrenaline-fueled world of racing. YN Leclerc, the unsung hero, had emerged from the shadows and claimed her rightful spot beyond the checkered flag.

And as the Leclerc family celebrated their triumphs, their father's spirit lived on, forever etched in their hearts. For it was through their collective passion and unwavering support for one another that they transcended the limits of the racetrack and found solace in the memories they held dear.

[crepesuzette2023]

Ivan Vaughan writes about John and Paul

This is just a relatively brief excerpt from Ivan Vaughan's book, which, for the most part, focuses on his life with Parkinson's disease. (From what I can tell so far, it's absolutely fascinating: far more than 'simply' a memoir, it's a reflection on illness, the mind-body connection, science, psychotropic drugs, patients' autonomy...and much more.)

But since this blog is climbing the drainpipe to the John & Paul business, and there's been some recent discussion of Mark Lewisohn's claim that John was such a bad boy Ivan's mother sent her son to a different grammar school to separate the two, I thought the following might be interesting.

And the ending of this chapter also gives some context to Paul's reaction to John's murder—another topic about which ML has interesting opinions.

This isn't to pile on ML, but more...as words from someone who was there.

(CC: @mythserene, @anotherkindofmindpod) I met John when I was three or four years old. One wet morning there was a knock at the front door. My mother opened it, and looking down, found a boy a bit older than me, smiling, but preoccupied with the effort of remembering what he had been rehearsed to say.

‘I believe a little boy lives here. I wondered if you might like to come out and play.’ He stood there in the porch, rain pouring down behind him, with a pair of slippers under his arm.

‘Come on in. What’s your name? You live round the corner don’t you?’

Next day I went around to the house where he lived with his aunt and uncle. We played with Dinky cars. I was surprised by his generosity and willingness to share his toys; he was happy even for me to take some of them home. When his Uncle George came home with some sweets John readily shared them. There was an immediate bond between us. He was older, read books, and his great intelligence and experience were apparent. I accepted his leadership but I was determined to preserve my independence. From the warm security of Aunt Mimi’s control, John accepted me into his life.

John was a member of his local library and immersed himself in books so that by the age of five he was already a fluent reader. I was still in the infant school when he started at Dovedale Road Primary School, but we played together after school and weekends. There were numerous parks, a golf course, and fields full of tangled growth and trees — just right for playing cowboys and Indians. In one barren area with large lumps of hard earth we played football and cricket. We spent hours digging all tracks to race our Dinky cars. Our most exciting game, though, was ‘fires’. We would go to a large area of waste ground and simply set fire to the straw and watch the place. I have never understood why nobody stopped us.

John’s gang comprised, besides himself, Pete Shotton, Nigel Wally and me. I was the youngest and was constantly having to prove my worth. I feel privileged to be John’s friend since he was nearly two years older. He protected me against Timmy Tarbuck and his gang on the rare occasions when I made the mistake of confronting one of them.

John and I went to different grammar schools, but I used to hear about the chaos and riots that seem to be a daily feature of his schooling. I’d rather lost touch with him when I went to university, and did not see him again until sometime after I was married. Then one day, as I was playing with my little boy Jus on the steps of our house in London, white Rolls Royce turned into the road. John jumped out followed by a woman I have not met before.

‘Hello, Ivy! This is Yoko.’ (…)

My attachment to both John and Paul ran deep and occasionally I would go to great lengths in order to see them at a moment’s notice. Maybe Paul saw our continuing friendship as a way of maintaining simple values he held dear. Jan liked Paul, though she did not see much of John. She was not the least bit mesmerized by their fame. She enjoyed eating at expensive restaurants in sampling London’s nightlife, into which Paul took us from time to time. But, should the effort to come to great, she was willing to let the relationship fade.

A month after telephoning John in New York [with the news of the Parkinson’s diagnosis; their first conversation in years], a heavy parcel was delivered. It was not until I was reading the titles of the books it contained that I realized they had been sent by John and Yoko. There was one by Arthur Janov, author of the Primal Scream, and one entitled Mind Magic. How to Get Well had on the fly-leaf a message from John that read ‘to start looking’, and The Snow Leopard had a note saying ‘to relax’. This last book gave me the greatest pleasure and I frequently re-read passages from it. Its author, Peter Matthiesen, lost his son through illness and journeyed in Nepal and in Inner Dolpo on a completely pointless journey to catch sight of a snow leopard. The peace he found travels across to the reader from each page.

John’s accompanying letter urged me, in punning language, to keep my spirits high and strongly suggested that it was up to me whether I sank or swam. I must not lose faith in myself.

Ten weeks later he was shot dead. Paul and I did not contact each other about it; in fact, we never brought it up in conversation. I hardly reacted outwardly at all. The day after John’s death, however, a colleague said that he supposed I was very upset at what it happened. I heard myself say: ‘I don’t know what I feel. I don’t know that I feel much at all’. As soon as he had gone, I instinctively made my way to a room where I knew I could be alone, and I wept profusely.

-- from Ivan-Living with Parkinson's Disease by Ivan Vaughan. 1986.

[purdledooturt]

WIP Wedneday

I got tagged again, and y'all... you may not know this but I basically bleed WIPs. I have nothing but WIPs. Sometimes they never become anything, and WIP Wednesdays are the only way they see the world at all. Thank you @cinnamontails-ff for freeing one of these boys from the jail.

In celebration of the announcement of the continuation of An Empirical Science, I would also like to contribute to the Holy Rolan Empire.

The door clicked closed – then, it clicked again. Locked.

“Drop the glamour, please,” Rolan all but growled, “before I do it for you.”

Tav gasped at the commanding tone, her heart seized by cold tendrils in confusion. Immediately, she did as he had asked, dropping the disguise with an exhale. “Rolan!” Her hand flew to her chest, trying to still her pounding heart. “It’s just me!”

“Tav!” Rolan gasped back, his expression going from dark and fierce and angry to something more akin to surprise and confusion and… suspicion? With one final once-over the expression melted into something more sheepish, as his shoulders relaxed with a sigh. “I’m sorry about that. You… you had triggered some alarms, so I…” He ran a hand through his hair, letting loose a few tendrils from his normally immaculately styled half-up ‘do. “It’s good to see you, though.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, pursing her lips together as she felt her face burn red out of embarrassment. Of course they would have security measures for disguises and seemings – she didn’t even think about it. “That was wholly my fault.”

To try and soothe the awkward air, Tav went for the first gesture she could think of: a friendly hug. Oddly, Rolan accepted – in fact, he damn near melted into it. She enjoyed his warmer body temperature, momentarily reminded of the piggy-back rides Karlach used to give her when they were racing Lae’zel. She rested her chin on his shoulder. “It’s good to see you, too.”

He pulled away from the embrace, examining her once again. “My reaction was completely unwarranted. I apologise, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just thought you… were someone else. Why were you in a disguise anyway?”

She looked down at her bag of purchases and sheepishly held them up to call his attention to them. Curiously, he peered in. “Last time I came by, Lia wouldn’t let me pay, so…”

He laughed. “You silly girl,” he said fondly, shaking his head. He gestured towards a well-lit seating area by the large floor-to-ceiling window. “Why don’t you take a seat over by the window? Let me at least get you a drink, and I’ll let Cal and Lia know you’re here so they can say hello.”

Tav marvelled at the room Rolan had claimed as his office – the walls were covered in books, from floor to ceiling, but unlike Lorroakan’s old set up it was much more organised and welcoming. Rolan had his books in shelves of polished cherry wood – she found that the desk, chairs, his drinks cabinet, and the furniture at his seating area matched, giving the room an elevated, moody, professional air. It was luxurious and neat – it was just very him.

“ I’d love a juice of some kind,” she called out over her shoulder as she settled down on the plush seat of one of the armchairs. “This place is beautiful, Rolan - you’ve outdone yourself!”

“I found the difficulty of furnishing a space is greatly made easy by having lots of money,” he said in his normal, sardonic, Rolan way, though there was markedly no bite in his tone. “I do hope this juice would do.” 

She’d turned to find him walking towards her with two glasses of wine and she laughed, leaning forward in her seat to reach for one. “That counts,” she joked, as she watched him take the other armchair across from her. She took a sip of the wine – chilled and sweet. 

Before he leaned back he reached into his pocket, pulling out a pouch which he’d tossed her way. It landed on her lap with a light jingle that betrayed its contents. “Say nothing,” he said, pre-empting her protest with a raised hand, “that should be exactly what you paid, and not a gold more.”

“One of the scrolls was on sale,” she mentioned – concern about being credited more than what actually paid oddly the first thing in her mind.

The second, she found, was amazement – the idea of Rolan just… casually calculating the cost of her purchases, just from that brief glance into her bag, just to refund her? Well, she knew he was a genius, but that was as impressive as Astarion’s one-handed lockpicking trick – it was another level entirely. “Rolan, really –”

He finally settled down in the armchair, waving her concerns away. “I’ve accounted for that, don’t worry,” he said, “just to keep the books clean for Bex.”

Ooh - why did he react so poorly? Who was he expecting? 👀

I am super excited about this idea so I am definitely motivated to keep working on it - I just want to have it all planned out before I commit (sorry). I have a prologue whipped up that explains the whole premise from the get go, but there's a whole lot of middle to work with.

[pandorasprongs]

CHAPTER THREE | so inviting, i almost jump in.

'it's nice to have a friend' masterlist + playlist | previous chapter

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

SUMMARY: jamie and reader go out for drinks and meet a familiar face that brings up a painful memory for both of them.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: i'd like to apologize in advance for this one because the end is just 100% angst so brace yourselves sorry :')

It was like deja vu. Over the past weeks, you and Jamie started hanging out on a regular basis. Late nights and weekends were often spent eating pizza, watching old movies, and searching for old schoolmates online. He even helped you re-organize your room when he arrived during one of your cleaning days. You uncovered a box of old toy rings that Jamie gave you every birthday of yours for five years.

Initially, Jamie would message you if he was on the way. But the more he came over, it went back to your usual habits of him just showing up at your door at random hours of the day. When you weren't home, he'd message that he dropped by and then you'd call him when you got back. He'd race over to watch another one of your favorite childhood movies.

You hadn't realized how much you missed it all till you started spending time with Jamie again. You missed it so much that you may have neglected to mention to Liv how often you were with him. Despite the mini-sermon she gave you weeks ago about confronting Jamie, you hadn't actually made any moves to do it. All of this started to feel normal, regular, and the thought of disturbing that scared you too much. Even if there were times where you were annoyed at how casual he talked about the past few years of radio silence from him. Or how he'd mention his Man City teammates and you felt like tensing up every time.

There was no need to bring it up anymore, something you repeated to yourself. Plus, you were noticing that Jamie was now closer to your childhood best friend than the one who broke your heart. But still, you were cautious around the footballers Jamie associated with. Even when the season started again and Jamie would offer to tour you around the clubhouse or reserve tickets for the games, you'd always politely decline. You're sure the AFC Richmond players aren't terrible people given how highly Jamie would talk about them, but better to be safe than sorry.

Besides, with his now swamped schedule, you hadn’t seen Jamie recently. The most you did was when he’d send messages before training or games to which you’d answer with a “Good luck!” It was weird in the beginning, given that when he was at Man City, Jamie didn’t do any of that, but you hoped that this meant he wouldn’t leave again.

The next time you did was the night after one of their games, which continued their winning streak, thanks to Zava. While you knew Richmond fans — well, Liv and Frankie — were absolutely ecstatic to have him, Jamie despised the guy. You stopped yourself from pointing out the hypocrisy of him hating the player for being self-centered and thinking highly of himself.

You guess it’s working though because now you’re watching Richmond secure their fifth win in a row with your neighbor’s kid, Ronnie. When her mom found out you were a Science professor, she practically begged you to tutor her kid (and occasionally babysit). Ronnie was in primary school, so the lessons were pretty simple and you’ve been doing sessions every week to help her out. You always rewarded her afterward with whatever she wanted to watch on your TV that was age-appropriate, of course. This time, — after running back to their flat to get her Obisanya shirt, — she decided on watching the game. 

“Zava’s incredible,” she murmured next to you, staring at the screen as if in a trance. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the reaction. The game was finished and so the channel was just playing match highlights, which for Richmond, were mostly their current star player. Sometimes, you’d spot Jamie in the background and even though the rest of the team was cheering along, he was having a hard time masking his resentment.

When you were finally able to drag her away from the TV, you heated up two plates of lasagna. Ronnie’s mom still hadn’t knocked on your door and you didn’t want to leave her alone in your flat, so she was having dinner with you tonight. For the most part, it was just like eating with Jamie. She was non-stop talking about the match which turned to talking about her favorite players and future games. It reminded you of Jamie as a kid, who’d go on and on about the exact same things.

As you’re washing dishes and Ronnie’s answering some extra worksheets, — she asked for them! — you hear the doorbell ring. You go over and find Jamie standing at the door, much to your surprise.

“Hey! Didn’t know you were coming over,” you say, but after noticing his exasperated expression, you tilt your head. “I know you don’t like a certain teammate, but I thought you’d at least be happy about the win.”

Jamie sighs. “I know." He gives you a weak smile, and you have to admit that even that simple act made your heart skip. “Is that lasagna?”

Jamie enters the room without warning and as soon as he does, your eyes widened remembering who else was there. You turn to the dining room table at the same time as Jamie and together, watch a 9-year-old stare in awe.

“Oh my God,” she let out. “That’s Jamie Tartt!” She walks over to you, leaving behind the worksheets. 

You lean over and whisper to Jamie, “Forgot to mention I’m watching my neighbor’s kid.”

But Jamie’s already jumped into celebrity mode. He crouches down and confirms, “That’s me.” He glances at her oversized jersey before asking, “You a fan of Richmond?”

Ronnie nods her head enthusiastically. “I’m Ronnie! Congrats on winning!”

Jamie chuckles, and thanks her. “Nice to meet you, Ronnie.”

You hear someone approach the door and clear their throat and you turn to find Ronnie’s mom looking curiously at you. You turn back to Ronnie — who has now launched into a full monologue about how much she loves the team — and exclaim, “Look who else is here! I think it’s time to head back to your flat, Neens.”

She pouts at that statement, but one look from her mom and she was waving goodbye to the player. You quickly collect all of her stuff scattered around the place and hand it to her mom, who seems too exhausted from her shift to even notice the other person in the room.

Once you close the door, you lean on it and sigh in relief. “Sorry about that. I sometimes watch her after tutoring if her mom isn’t back, yet.”

Jamie shakes his head. “Nah, not a problem. I love meeting fans. Real ego boost.” 

Yet another countless eye roll. “Calm down. You’re not even her third favorite player.”

Jamie scoffs, almost offended but after remembering the lasagna, he heads to the kitchen for a plate of his own. You walk beside him and after tripping over a loose marker Ronnie left, you fall forward. Jamie's reflexes kick in and he catches you quickly and you grab hold of his — really broad, you notice — shoulders to steady yourself.

Now you're stuck in a position that happens in almost every 90s rom-com you've watched: your feet diagonally off the ground with Jamie's hands gripping tightly at your waist. Both of you are too much in shock to move and simply look at each other with wide eyes. Your faces were close, too close to be platonic if it was intentional. So much so that if you leaned forward, just a little bit…

You snap out of the trance and move to stand straight up as Jamie lets go of you. You head over to the sink and quietly curse at yourself and that stupid blue marker. Things haven't been weird between you and Jamie for ages. And you weren't going to let the possible resurfacing of your feelings ruin that. Not again. Plus, if you were already burying your old feelings of resentment, why not add onto it too?

You go back to washing dishes when Jamie asks you a question. "Are you doing anything Saturday night?"

Given what just happened, your mind wanders off in the romantic direction before you shake your head. Instead, you respond, "I think you know better than anyone that I never do anything Saturday night." You reply as you wipe your hands. "Why?"

"Just wondering if you want to get a drink with me. Well, you get a drink and I get water 'cause fucking Roy’s banned me from alcohol till the season’s over. I just really need a night out. Fucking Zava, I swear." Forget the fact that he was technically at a night out with his teammates earlier; he more of just wanted a night out with someone who isn't so related to his football life. Or, he just really wants a night out with you.

You snort at that last comment but oblige anyway, ignoring the feeling of disappointment.

Jamie and you had only ever hung out together in the comfort of your own home. You'd just assumed that it was to avoid any unwanted press and since the bar he mentioned was one of those members-only pubs, it makes sense that the first time the two of you hung out publicly was there. But seeing as it was a pub, it's not going to be a romantic not-a-date date that you'll be going on.

Though, you soon realized how different it was from your usual places. Everyone there was dressed up so formally and you were glad that you picked the black trousers that you usually only wear to work over your everyday jeans that had paint stains at the bottom of them. Maybe you had worn it in case Jamie at the last minute decided to take a detour to a nice restaurant, but you were relieved either way.

The two of you ended up just sitting in the bar while Jamie complained about his most recent Twitter feud. Christ, you pray for Keeley Jones for having to deal with all his PR nonsense. When he starts shit-talking Roy for getting him up at 4 am for training, — “I thought he was joking!” — you end up tuning out of the conversation knowing how long the rant was going to be.

Your eyes drift off behind Jamie when you notice a familiar face. Suddenly, it felt like the walls were closing in on you. You could feel your breathing hitch and your fingers were scratching the inside of your palm. Before you could even consider doing anything, he reached you.

"Jamie Tartt!" The footballer's train of thought is broken and he turns to his former teammate to greet him. "Haven't seen you since you went off to be a reality star!"

Jamie simply rolls his eyes at the comment. "Well George, I haven't seen you since they forced you out of Man City!"

"They couldn't afford me anymore," He shrugs before his eyes land on yours. You shift in your seat and you can see the exact moment when Jamie notices how uneasy you've become. "And who's this with you?"

He doesn't remember you. And why would he? To him, you were just another crazed fan at a pub, one of many he's encountered over the years. You doubt that the memory of that night stuck with him the way it did to you.

"This is (Y/N), an old friend of mine," Jamie adds carefully and you build up enough courage to shake his former teammates' hand, but not enough to stay in this conversation.

"I'll let you two catch up while I get another drink." You explain, in an obviously fake cheery voice, but only Jamie spots it. He reaches out for your hand on the table to comfort you, but you swipe it away before he can.

You head off to the other side of the bar to order another beer, but you can't stop your eyes from shifting over to the pair of them again. Jamie looked so comfortable laughing and talking to George. You scoff at the sight. How could he act so chummy with that guy when he was the driving force for why the two of you ended on shitty terms in the first place?

Jamie's told you all about how he's been working on himself and trying to become a better person, but a part of you still feared that one interaction with that guy would unravel everything. He was an absolute prick; the number of fights and scandals Jamie had been in for his entire career was nothing compared to the amount George had in his first five years.

You wanted to trust Jamie, but he was always quick to change who he was when he was around certain people. You just hoped he had grown enough to not let his Man City "mentor" — too many of George’s scandal photos had a 19 to 22-year-old Jamie Tartt in the background — bring back the side of him he's tried so hard to erase.

You don't know how long they were talking, but by the time they moved over to the pool table, your vision was already starting to blur. The drinks just kept coming. Flashbacks from that night started to come in too: the spotting Jamie in the crowd, the confrontation, the holding back of tears, and the walk-out. You couldn't look over at the pair of them without an intense pain appearing in your chest.

Jamie looked back to where you were supposed to be seated and found you spacing out into a corner. It was the same dreamy and tired look you had the first time you tested your alcohol limit when your parents were out of town. Immediately, he abandoned the game of pool and rushed over to you.

"Maybe that's enough alcohol for tonight." Someone pulls the Cosmopolitan from your grasp and you squint your eyes to identify them as Jamie.

"Ha, that's rich coming from you." You can't remember how many times you've had to help Jamie sneak up the stairs and into his bedroom after a night out. "Aren't you still busy hanging out with that Man City prick?" Lack of tactfulness is the most obvious sign you'd drank too much.

"Woo, a little harsh there," You hear George come up to the two of you. You rush — well, more of stumble — forward to confront him, but Jamie holds you back. The retired footballer points out, "She's a feisty one."

"Let's bring you back to your flat, yeah?" Jamie offers softly, but you remove yourself from his arms and shake your head.

"I am perfectly capable of getting home by myself." You grab your clutch from the table. "Don't want to ruin another night for you guys, right?"

A pang of guilt visibly hits Jamie, but George is just left confused. You start to walk towards the exit and get to the door till you feel someone gently take hold of your left arm.

"You can't even see your phone clearly to book a taxi. I'll drive you home." Jamie's voice is low and whatever common sense you have left takes him up on your offer. He turns his head to say goodbye to George, but all the former footballer does is shout, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" following by a boastful laugh.

You clench your clutch at the comment, but Jamie brings you out the door before you can turn back and do something that'll land you on the front page of the Sun the next morning.

When you get to Jamie's car, he carefully helps you into the passenger's seat and puts on your seatbelt before getting into the car himself. Once the car starts, you take the chance to close your eyes in an attempt to remedy the throbbing headache you feel is already coming on.

You don't know how long you stay like that, but when you open your eyes, you're already at your building. You slowly get out of the car and once you make it to the sidewalk, Jamie asks, "Can’t believe you just downed a dozen drinks like a recent divorcee."

"I wonder why," You scoff and side-eyed him, unwilling to move your head from looking forward. You see the footballer's expression drop and suddenly you understand what Liv was going on about. You finally break. "How could you still be so friendly with him, Jamie! He’s an absolute arse and everyone in England knows it!"

"He was my teammate! And still a major name in football, even after retirement and all the shit he’s done. I didn't want to risk anything!" Maybe if you were sober, you'd accept that reason. There were countless alumni, tenured professors, and chairmen that you had to suck up to just to keep your job. But were drunk people ever known to be rational?

"Is that why you let him talk to me like that? Back in the pub?"

"You two barely spoke a word to each other," Jamie points out but you shake your head furiously.

"I mean back in Cardiff!" You exclaimed loudly and you knew for a fact that at least one of your neighbors had heard your outburst. But you didn't really care.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You went to walk up the stairs, expecting it to be the end of it. If Jamie didn't have anything to say, then what was the point? He'd let you walk away and tomorrow morning, you'd be back to normal and you can just pretend this night didn't happen. You've done it before.

"You said you didn't want to talk about that." Jamie finally speaks up.

"I thought I didn't," you admit, your voice levels lower than before. You continue walking when you feel a presence following suit. You stayed in that silence till you made it back to your flat. It's a miracle you didn't tip over on the way in, but spite was enough to power you through.

Jamie closed the door behind him and sighed, "I couldn't just ignore him at the bar."

Suddenly, any fear of confrontation seemed to disappear. Your anger resurfaced and you spit out, "You seemed just fine ignoring me for seven years." You turn to face him and for a second, the pitiful look in his eyes almost made you back off. Almost. "Or is abandoning your best friend easier when she's not some big-shot footballer?"

"I know you're mad," Jamie starts and you angrily run your hands through your hair.

"Yes, I'm mad, Jamie!" You shout and you watch him take a step back, but you don't falter. "I'm mad at you! Seeing George tonight just reminded me of it and how a part of me still fucking hates you for taking their side."

"I've been trying to apologize—"

"I know, Jamie, but I'm still pissed at you, okay? For leaving me like that! And for letting me leave that night! I mean, how could you? Just throw away a decade of friendship for some football assholes that threw you away the second they could." Everyone knew how Jamie's career with Man City ended and it was surely a sore spot for the player, but at that moment, you didn't care.

Before Jamie can even defend himself, you start again. "I... fuck Jamie, I loved you. You were my best friend. I would've spent every waking hour with you if I could've. But you couldn't care less about me, right? The moment someone more famous than me believed in you the same way I always did. You just stopped answering my calls, and my texts, and even my parents when they asked you for me! Worst of all, you didn't give me a single reason why!

"Honestly, I would've been fine if you did stop being friends with me, as long as you gave me an explanation. Even if it was for some stupid reason that I wouldn't understand or hate you for, because at least I could've moved on! Instead, I spent years wondering where it all went wrong. If I could've done something, anything to change what happened." You start to feel the strain on your throat and know for a fact that at least one of your neighbors would be eavesdropping, but you were finally letting it out.

Your voice comes out hoarse, "And then the next time I did see you, in that pub, you were a whole new person. A complete and utter prick, Jamie. After that night, I prayed that you'd come to your senses. Do the decent thing and apologize, even if it was just a fucking text or something. But no, you kept ignoring me and pretending I didn't even exist. So I forced myself to stop thinking about you. To stop caring about you calling me. To stop dreaming about you telling me you fucked up and that you were sorry. So I could move on with my life."

You look away from Jamie and around the living room in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing down. You were unsuccessful. "And after years, I did move on. I went to London, got a job, and stayed as far away as I could from football. From you. But God, you always find a way back to me, huh?

"It just had to be you who found me in Nelson Road that night. It had to be you who picked me up, who drove me home, and reminded me how happy I was when we were kids. So much so that I thought I'd be fine without an apology! As long as I had you back in my life, it'd be fine. But as you can tell now, it's not." The amount of alcohol in your system was wearing you down and you were starting to get tired.

You start to lose your balance when Jamie's there to catch you, but you harshly push him off you. He doesn't seem affected by your strength, but even then, he moves back.

  "Just get out, Jamie." is all you manage to say this time and after hesitating for a moment, he does. Now you're left alone again, only with your thoughts and the realization that any chance of bringing back what you had with Jamie was gone.

A/N: and that's that! i hope this teases the interlude nicely cause i'm sick of being so vague about that night since that's up next and trust me, it gets worse in that one... anyway i hope you all enjoyed this one!

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