#gee gabs

[thegardengrows-infrozenrain]

i'm dis close 2 bringin back scenecore and da l8 00z/erly 10z unironically.

an yez ik da othr peepz have been doin it 2, buuuuut... dat jus means there's more than 1 of us!!!! an we're gonna bitez uuuuu,,, rawr! >:3

[thegardengrows-infrozenrain]

ur so freakin real for dis OP

Its always "I love you" and never "Hand in mine, into your ice blues and then I'd say to you, "We could take to the highway with this trunk of ammunition, too" I'd end my days with you, in a hail of bullets I'm trying, I'm trying to let you know just how much you mean to me and after all the things we put each other through and I would drive on, to the end with you a liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full and I feel like there's nothing left to do but prove myself to you, and we'll keep it running but this time, I mean it I'll let you know just how much you mean to me as snow falls on desert sky until the end of everything" and honestly thats fucked up

[lockettesroom]

ofc sweetheart! and just remember, i love you and i’m proud of you !! <3

i love you too sugar <333

[miujo]

Send this heart 💖 to the blog you love the most !! Also send an bow 🎀 to let them know how grateful you are for them to exist<3

oh em gee thw k you so much gabby gab gab ur so awmaizng i wlowbe lyiu

[anotherdayinbliss]

The Bee Gees, 1971. GAB Archive. 

[amorecrea]

Double Dutch

In duvagub-buvagle-u-va-guo-va-go r-va-ga d-va-gee ev-a-gessJumping syllables, tripping you,Where sense is lost, yet joy in the guess. A-va-gaa, the letters twirl,Mumbo jumbo starts to whirl.Jargon loops and bafflegab,Gibberish becomes the gab. b-bee, a tangled phrase,Sounds like whispers lost in a haze.It’s all Greek now, strange and wild,A playful tongue, both mad and mild. Jumping rhythms…

[whileiamdying]

Die QUEEN

„PRIVATE DANCER” eröffnete 1984 sensationell die glänzende zweite Karriere der großen Sängerin VON ARNE WILLANDER

SIE HATTE 36 CENT UND EINE TANKKARTE, ALS SIE Ike Turner verließ und in ein Hotel in Dallas flüchtete. Und sie musste für die ausgefallenen Konzerte der Tournee bezahlen. Ike glaubte, dass Tina bald zurückkehren werde: Er überließ ihr die Kinder, um den ökonomischen Druck zu erhöhen.

Aber Tina kehrte nicht zu ihm zurück.

Ihre Auftritte in kleinen Clubs fanden vor zweihundert Zuschauern statt. Sie musste wieder von vorn beginnen. Die Musik hatte sich geändert, die Produktionsmethoden, die Vermarktung. Donna Summer war mit „Love To Love You Baby" der Star der Stunde, die Bee Gees machten jetzt Disco. Tina nahm das Album „Rough“ auf, es war ein Misserfolg. 1979 übernahm der australische Produzent Roger Davies das Management. Die nächste Platte, „Love Explosion“ (1979), belehnte den Disco-Sound, als er beinahe vorbei war. Davies hörte die engeschen Flektronik-Pop-Bands, die Anfang der 80er-Jahre reüssierten, darunter die British Electric Foundation, die aus Ian Craig Marsh und Martyn Ware, den Musikern von The Human League, bestand. Mit Ware nahmen sie 1983 eine Version von Al Greens „Let's Stay Together“ auf, die Platz 5 der englischen Charts erreichte und Rang 21 in den USA. Mit Capitol Records schlossen sie einen Vertrag für ein Album.

Das Album war „Private Dancer“ und erschien im Mai 1984. Auf dem Papier ist es ein eklektischer Mischmasch aus alten Songs und neu geschriebenen Stücken: Mark Knopfler gab Tina „Private Dancer“, Terry Britten schrieb „What's Love Got To Do With It“ und „Show Some Respect“ (mit Sue Shifrin), Rupert Hine „I Might Have Been Queen“ Dazu „Let's Stay Together“, Ann Peebles' „I Can't Stand The Rain“, „Better Be Good To Me“ von Holly Knight und Mike Chapman, „Help!“ von den Beatles, „1984“ von David Bowie und „Steel Claw“ von dem irischen Songschreiber Paul Brady. Unter den acht Produzenten sind Terry Britten, Rupert Hine, Martyn Ware und Joe Sample.

Die Platte ist also nicht kohärent. Ja, stimmt, aber sie ist auf interessante Weise nicht kohärent. Sie klingt absolut zeitgenössisch. Sie klingt wie Soul, ist aber Rock. Sie vereint die Talente vollkommen unterschiedlicher Autoren und Produzenten in dem Talent von Tina Turner, unverkennbar zu sein.

Auf dem Cover ist Tina Turner die Löwin in schwarzem Kleid und Netzstrümpfen, die Lippen rot geschminkt. Der an den Mund geführte Zeigefinger sagt beides: “Komm her!" und “Du kannst mich mal!". Die schwarze Katze im Vordergrund sieht aus wie ein Puma. Auf der Rückseite sind Tinas Beine aufs, die Erwachen zu sehen. Es ist die Art von Plate, und die sich Sene sich ins Wohnzimmer stellten. Und die sie wirklich hörten. Private Dancer* Nurde gekauft wie verrückt. Tina war 45 Jahre alt.

Das Comeback gehört zu den großen Mythen der Rockmusik (des Films, des Theaters, der Literatur, des Boxsports, des Lebens). Tina Turners Comeback war die Wiederkehr einer Frau, von der viele Menschen noch nie gehört hatten, zumal in Europa. Sie hatte eine Geschichte, das war klar, aber die Geschichte musste jetzt erst erzählt werden. Mit Kurt Loder erzählte sie die Geschichte in der Autobiografie „I, Tina“ Ihr Lieblingsfilm sei der zweite „Mad Max“ sagte sie. 1985 spielte sie im dritten „Mad Max“ „Jenseits der Donnerkuppel“, mit aufgerüschtem Kopfputz, ein bisschen wie die Acid Queen in „Tommy“. Der Titelsong „We Don't Need Another Hero“ wurde ein Riesenhit. Bei Live Aid sang sie in Philadelphia „State Of Shock“ mit Mick Jagger, der damals sein erstes Soloalbum, „She's The Boss“, herausbrachte. Sie zog dieses Duett einem Auftritt mit David Bowie in London vor. Später erzählte sie freimütig, dass sie seit den Sechzigern in Jagger verliebt war; 1966 war sie im Vorprogramm einer Tournee der Rolling Stones. 1986 erschien „Break Every Rule“. Damals wurden Schallplatten noch an den Supermarkt-kassen verkauft, und „Break Every Rule“ ist eine Kassenplatte. Man kam einfach nicht an ihr vorbei.

„Typical Male“ röhrte aus dem Radio. Wie überhaupt „die Röhre“ zum Synonym für Tina Turner wurde. Und das andere Synonym war die Löwen-mähne, der “Shag", eine der ikonischen Frisuren der 80er-Jahre, wie man heute sagen würde. Variationen dieser Haartracht trug Tina bis zur letzen Platte, Ende der 90er-Jahre.

[schoenes-thailand]

Bangkok: Kenianerin wegen Schmuggel von 1.250g Kokain am Airport Suvarnabhumi festgenommen

Die Air­port Inter­dic­tion Task Force (AITF) hat am Son­ntag am Flughafen Suvarn­ab­hu­mi eine Keni­aner­in festgenom­men, die Kokain nach Thai­land geschmuggelt hat. Der Sekretär des Office of the Nar­cotics Con­trol Board (ONCB), Wichai Chai­mongkon, gab gestern auf ein­er Pressekon­ferenz Einzel­heit­en der Dro­gen­ver­haf­tung bekan­nt. Die AITF-Beamten ent­deck­ten 1.250 Gramm Kokain im Gepäck der 45-jähri­gen Keni­aner­in. Die Droge war in ein­er speziell ange­fer­tigten Geheim­tasche versteckt. Nach Angaben von Wichai reiste die Frau mit einem Tran­sit­flug von Nairo­bi in Kenia nach Doha in Katar und zum Suvarn­ab­hu­mi-Flughafen in Bangkok in Thai­land. Die AITF ver­haftete die Frau und beschlagnahmte die Dro­gen, bevor sie dem ONCB Bericht erstattete.

Nach weit­eren Ermit­tlun­gen stellte das ONCB fest, dass eine weit­ere Per­son in den Schmuggel ver­wick­elt war, deren Iden­tität jedoch nicht bekan­nt gegeben wurde. Der keni­an­is­che Schmug­gler hat­te sich mit der anderen verdächti­gen Per­son zur Über­gabe des Kokains in einem Hotel im Bangkok­er Stadt­teil Sathorn verabre­det. Die Per­son wurde jedoch auf die polizeilichen Ermit­tlun­gen aufmerk­sam und brach den Kon­takt zu der Frau ab. Die Beamten gaben bekan­nt, dass sie weit­ere Ermit­tlun­gen durch­führen wür­den, um das gesamte Net­zw­erk zu zerschlagen. Wichai erk­lärte, dass seit der offiziellen Wiederöff­nung der thailändis­chen Gren­zen im ver­gan­genen Jahr der Kokain­schmuggel aus dem Aus­land zugenom­men habe. Anfang April ver­haftete die AITF eine 28-jährige Thailän­derin, nach­dem sie in ihrem Gepäck 2.352 Gramm Kokain ent­deckt hat­te. Sie war aus Istan­bul (Türkei) nach Bangkok geflogen. Wichai erk­lärte, dass wohlhabende west­afrikanis­che krim­inelle Grup­pen für den Dro­gen­schmuggel ver­ant­wortlich seien. Kokain sei eine beliebte und teure Sub­stanz bei wohlhaben­den thailändis­chen Par­tygängern und aus­ländis­chen Touristen. Während des Songkran-Fes­ti­vals ließ das ONCB einen dieser inter­na­tionalen Dro­gen­ringe auf­fliegen, was zur Ver­haf­tung von zwei thailändis­chen Staats­bürg­ern, einem Malaysi­er und einem Hongkonger führte. Die Verdächti­gen waren im Besitz von 93 Kilo­gramm Hero­in und 161 Kilo­gramm Crys­tal Meth, die sie nach Aus­tralien schmuggeln wollten. Dieser Bericht fol­gt auf die Geschichte des südaus­tralis­chen Dro­gen­boss­es Robert Gor­don Polly­bank Gee, der zu 20 Jahren Gefäng­nis verurteilt wurde. Gee betrieb ein mas­sives Dro­gen­han­del­snetz und führte ille­gal große Men­gen an Kokain, Metham­phet­a­min, MDMA und LSD ein. Im Jahr 2011 floh Gee nach Thai­land, um den aus­tralis­chen Behör­den zu ent­ge­hen, wurde aber schließlich 2019 in der Bar Funk in der Bangla Road in Phuket ver­haftet und zu vier Jahren Haft verurteilt. In diesem Jahr wurde er an Aus­tralien aus­geliefert, wo er seine Strafe verbüßte. / The Thaiger Read the full article

[altschmerzes]

hm it’s occurring to me that one of my parents having a really intense Thing about my grades and what would become of me and my life if i didn’t maintain them to her standards and which of my friends she wanted me to be more like, academically, and the myriad ways THAT comparison manifested with me always on the losing end uh. maybe that didn’t set me up for a... healthy relationship. with grades and academic performance and feedback.

[pamesjatterson]

I hate how none of my classmate Get Me™ like bro ive got one earring on my right ear. Literally.

[rotwhyler]

my mom gets so annoyed when i tell her stuff abt myself like she offered me jalapenos for my salad and when i told her they make me feel like i cant breathe and like im gonna pass out she got?? annoyed??

[jacquesthepigeon]

Gee I wonder if there’s another character with the gift of gab that could serve to set an interesting dynamic and explore certain themes :)

[remmushound]

Turtle tots short: Leo the medic -

“HOOOOOOT SOUUUUP!

The four hatchlings danced to match the final move of their cinematic hero, slashing their fists through the air and kicking out their legs to match the pose so exact that Splinter couldn’t help but stare. This was only their first time watching this particular installment of the long series, and their second time seeing the move, yet they got it perfectly with very little effort. Raphael was the first to drop the pose as the ending scene turned to credits, and that was the signal for his brothers to follow suit and do the same. Then all four started to scramble around excitedly like young boys tend to do while gabbing on to their heart's content.

“Ohhh that alien fight scene was sooo cool!” Raphael squealed, spinning around until he got dizzy and fell on his rump.

“If by cool you mean biologically inaccurate, then sure.” Donatello followed up, shifting his glasses higher up on the bridge of his beak.

“Yeah! You could see the strings!” Leonardo followed up to support Donatello.

Splinter snorted and stood up from his lazy seat, his simple presence calling the attention of all his sons.

“I assure you, my sons, that there were no wires.” His tail curled behind him and he folded his hands behind his back. “Everything you saw in that movie was real.”

“How would you know?” Leonardo pointed at Splinter accusingly.

“Yeah! How would you know?” Raphael repeated loudly.

“Yeah! How woulda?!” Michelangelo copied squeakily.

Splinter closed his eyes and laughed slowly. “Oh, my sons. You insult the master on his work! And I assure you…”

Splinter jumped suddenly into a tailspin, knocking each of his sons on their shell with a powerful whip before he landed in a pose identical to the pose he had acted out in that same movie they had just finished.

“I’ve had much longer to learn the moves.” Splinter stood up in the traditional Lou Jitsu pose. “HOOOOOOOT SOUUUUP!”

The eyes of Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo glimmered like stars in astonishment of their father, but Leonardo seemed almost unimpressed.

“Please! You don’t even sound like Lou Jitsu!” Leonardo put his hand on his hip and stuck up his nose pointedly. “Lou Jitsu sounds American!”

Splinter growled. “Well maybe Lou Jitsu just adapted the accent to get more young American boys like you interested in watching him! Now shoo!”

Splinter ushered his sons out of the room as a unit and closed the door behind them. The slam silenced them for a moment before Michelangelo giggled and soon they were all giggling. Michelangelo stuck his arms out like an airplane's wings and started to make plane noises while running around the room.

“Hey! Mike’s got a good idea!” Donatello stated, then zoomed after Michelangelo while copying his motions.

“Wait for meee! Follow the leader!” Raphael ran to get in front and lead his brothers in their airplane game.

“Yeah, whatever. That looks dumb!.” Leonardo only kept up his stubborn resistance for a few more heartbeats before bolting after them to join in the game. “Wait for me too!”

And then they were all buzzing circles around the room, with Raphael in the lead as he always was, guiding his baby brothers to victory.

“RRRRRR! This is Captain Raphael speaking!” Raphael spoke in an announcer's voice, “Just thought I’d tell you, as leader, we have takeoff!” Raphael guided his brothers up and over a couch and under a table, twisting his arms to match his turning as he weaved through the furniture.

The game ended after several extended moments of fun, and Raphael ended up climbing onto the arm of the couch to make himself appear taller.

“Otay everybody! If we’re gonna be as cool and awesome as Lou Jitsu, we need to make our own ninja clan!”

Donatello raised his hand.

“Yes Donna?”

“What is our ninja clan gonna be called? I mean— we don’t really have a last name...”

“Oh yeah.” Raphael frowned and plopped down on the arm of the chair with a huff as he started thinking. “Hm.”

“Oh oh oh!” Michelangelo bounced as he raised his hands, not waiting to be called on. “What about the Splintersons?”

There was a collected mutter of approval and agreement.

“Great idea Mikey!” Raphael declared, standing back up. “Now! As the oldest and biggest and strongest, I’m obviously the leader of Clan Splinterson!”

“And I’m the technician!” Donatello bragged, holding a hand to his chest as he gave a proud smile, “Not to brag or anything!”

“And I can be the therapish!” Michelangelo said excitedly, “Like Factor Gee in the movie!”

“You’d be a great therapist, Mikey!” Raphael praised, then turned to Leo, “What are you gonna be, Leo?”

“I…!” Leonardo started out excitedly but didn't say anything past that. He looked from Raphael to Donatello to Michelangelo, and then huffed. He crossed his arms. “I think this game is stupid. I’m gonna go play barbies.”

“Wha…?” Raphael stared sadly after Leonardo as the younger mutant stomped off to the Barbie Dream House he shared with his brothers, his back turned to the other three as he immediately started to play with Barbie and her sisters.

Michelangelo and Donatello scrambled onto the couch beside Raphael and watched as Leonardo left, equal looks of confusion and sadness and disappointment evident on their faces. A minute later and they had almost seemed to forget about Leonardo, and they were back to playing their airplane game.

Leonardo tried not to make his tears too obvious. He wiped his eyes intermittently as he played with what were usually his favorite toys, but now he only felt numb to them. Especially when he could hear the laughter and giggles of his brothers as they played their Clan game behind him.

Leonardo brought the four Barbie sisters into their Dream house living room and started to place them in sitting positions on their little plastic couch. Barbie, Stacie, and Chelsea fit perfectly snug together on the small furniture but left no room for the final sister, Skipper. Leonardo looked down at the lone doll in his hand. There was no room for her, and he was just like her. His team already had a brave leader and a smart technician and a cute therapist. What else was needed…?

Leonardo flinched at the sound of a heavy thud and he looked behind him to see Michelangelo flat on his back after hitting his head on the table when he hadn’t ducked low enough. Raphael and Donatello were already there around him staring and not knowing what to do. Michelangelo didn't cry at once, but once the shock set in the youngest brother burst into tears.

“Oh no no no!” Donatello immediately clutched at his head, “We’re gonna be in so much trouble!”

“Don’t cry Mikey…” Raphael tried to comfort Michelangelo by gently petting the smaller one's head, but that only the box turtle cry more as he kicked out his legs and screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Here— I got it.”

Leonardo pushed his way past Donatello and Raphael, heaving a medical kit in both arms and flopping it down on the floor beside Michelangelo. He clicked it open and helped Michelangelo sit up straight before grabbing a Nemo bandage. He unwrapped it, placed it gently on Michelangelo’s forehead (though there was no blood, it was still a psychological help), and gave the mutant a gentle kiss.

Michelangelo giggled sheepishly at the kiss and covered his forehead with his hands. Leonardo laughed and gave his brother a gentle hug before helping him to his feet.

“Come on! Walk it off!”

The minute Michelangelo was standing again, he launched himself into Leonardo’s chest for a hug and gave a soft churr of gratitude. He wiped snot on Leonardo’s shell and then looked up to his brother beaming.

“You’re really good at this! You should be our Clan medic!”

Leonardo sucked in a shaky breath at the declaration, his eyes going wide as saucers and his body feeling almost numb. “R… really?”

“Yeah!” Donatello agreed as he and Raphael circled around their younger brothers for a group hug, though Donatello seemed resistant to it at first.

“Every Clan needs a medic!” Raphael said, “And you could be ours!”

“You… think I can do it?” Leonardo started to tear up as he looked around at the excited faces surrounding him.

“Well, there’s two questions you gotta answer first.” Donatello nodded. “First: Do you like doing it?”

“Um… yeah.” Leonardo decided after a moment of thought.

“Are you good at it?” Michelangelo asked, “I think the answer is yes!”

Leonardo laughed. “Yeah— yeah it is!”

Raphael yanked all three of his younger brothers off their feet and hugged them tightly. “Then you’ll be the first and bestest medic in all of Splinterson Clan history!”

[cdyssey]

Regret

Summary: When Fran doesn't come down to breakfast after spraining her ankle, the whole house is concerned for her—especially Niles and Mr. Sheffield. Set after "An Affair to Dismember."

A/N: Okay, so I've binge re-watched nearly four seasons of The Nanny in four days, and had to get at least one fic out of my system, lmao.

Fran Drescher's acting in "An Affair to Dismember" when she suddenly broke while talking to Maxwell made me sensitive. ;-;

AO3 Link

—

Breakfast is a remarkably boring affair without Miss Fine bursting through the door, raising her arms in a floral robe, and proclaiming, with signature adenoidal stylings, “Good moooorning, everyone!” 

The clink of silverware, the scraping of ceramic plates, the ruffling sound of Mr. Sheffield anxiously attacking the New York Times like a new Andrew Lloyd Webber play has just dropped—all of it is so terribly drab that Niles spends the first fifteen minutes of her pronounced absence coughing loudly in the hopes that his employer will pick up the hint to do something about it.

“Oh, do go get a bloody cough drop, old man,” he finally snaps, smacking his newspaper down on the table. “You’re driving me mad.”

“Sorry, sir,” Niles arches a brow as he refills Mr. Sheffield’s coffee mug. “I have asthma.”

He turns away to replace the coffee pot on the side table.

“And half a mind to kick your tetchy derrière,” he mutters under his breath.

“What was that, Niles?”

“Nothing, sir! Just saying thank you for your attentive care.”

“Dad,” Master Brighton thankfully interrupts, “where’s Fran, and what have you done to make her mad this time?”

Niles immediately turns around again in time to see his boss’s shoulders straighten in that way they often do when he’s indignant.

Or guilty.

Or some mixture of them both.

“I beg your pardon, Brighton,” he replies stiffly. “Why do you immediately assume I’m the problem here?”

“Process of elimination,” Brighton shrugs. “Fran’s not mad at me, Maggie, or Grace, and Niles is one of her closest friends.”

“You’re so astute, Master Brighton,” Niles smiles wryly as he moves to the left to get a better view of Mr. Sheffield’s face. The vein in his temple is beginning to throb, which is always a good time.

“She hasn’t dated anyone recently,” Miss Margaret pipes up.

“And she’s always fighting with her ma,” Miss Grace adds, “but that's never kept her from Belgian waffles before.”

“So, Dad,” Brighton grins, patting his father once on the back, “unless our math is wrong, that leaves you.”

“Goodness me,” Mr. Sheffield mutters, angrily stabbing a piece of link sausage with his fork. “I didn’t know I was in the presence of the lost Hardy Boy.”

“So you did do something!” Margaret exclaims. 

“No! I bloody well did not, Nancy Drew. For your information, Miss Fine accidentally hurt her ankle clubbing last night with Val. I don’t think it’s broken, but I’ve called a doctor to come by just to check.”

“Tsk, tsk. And you didn’t offer to pick her up Cinderella-style and swoop her downstairs so she wouldn’t miss breakfast?” Niles asks chidingly, only to be greeted with a nasty glare.

“Yes, I did offer to bring her down to breakfast as a matter of fact... but Miss Fine seemed strangely subdued when I spoke to her through the door... I didn’t know what to make of it to tell you the truth...”

Mr. Sheffield’s brow contracts as he searches Niles’s face for an answer, and Niles stares back just as studiously, observing the profound concern in his employer’s dark eyes.

The gentleness.

The romance.

The stunningly oblivious care.

Niles sighs fondly.

Unlike Miss Babcock, he’s never had the heart to kick poor puppies when they’re down.

“I’ll bring her Advil and a fresh ice pack,” he promises. “Perhaps some pain relief will help her to regain her spirit.”

“I hope so,” Mr. Sheffield replies, self-consciously turning to his plate again, the tips of his ears rather pink. “I hate when Miss Fine isn’t feeling well.”

“Here, here,” the whole table concurs.

—

Twenty minutes later, Niles is at Miss Fine’s door with a silver tray laden with all the essentials: painkillers, an ice pack, a mug of coffee (milk instead of cream and extra sugar), and a copy of the new edition of Gloss. He lightly taps on her door with the side of his loafer.

“Miss Fine, can I come in?”

“No,” comes an immediate and sharp reply. “I’m not dressed!”

“How discouraging,” Niles sighs smilingly. “What ever shall I do?”

“Suff’a, and at least give me a minute to find a brassiere.” 

“Oh, we’ll be here all day then.”

He hears a strange thud, a collection of evaluations (“dirty, dirty, slutty, Maggie’s, dirty”), and an assortment of Yiddish curse words he now vaguely recognizes from being friends with Miss Fine for nearly four years now. And then finally— 

“Come in, Jeeves, but shut the door behind ya ‘cuz I haven’t applied a morning layer of lipstick yet.”

Niles elbows the knob and pushes with his shoulder until the door lights open to a peculiar sight. Far from being neat, Miss Fine’s room looks like Macy’s after its annual Black Friday sale with clothes strewn everywhere—from the dressers to the wardrobes to the floor. An empty suitcase is lying on the bed next to Miss Fine, who is sitting in bed wearing an oversized t-shirt, her injured ankle propped up on a pillow. Niles can tell, even from the doorway, that it’s red and swollen, but to his satisfaction and relief, it doesn’t appear to be broken.

“Welcome to the jungle,” Miss Fine mutters when she notices his incredulous gaze. “We got all the animals out t’day.”

“I can see that,” Niles replies, placing his tray on her bedside table and shutting the door. With his usual efficiency, he then walks back over, retrieves the ice pack, and gently places it on the affected area, frowning when she flinches.

“Mr. Sheffield said that the doctor was coming at ten,” he says as he gently lowers himself onto the bed, clasping his hands primly on top of his lap.

“Mm,” Fran grunts noncommittally, grabbing the two Advil pills and knocking them back with a swig of coffee.

“What? You’re not curious as to whether or not said doctor in question is single, Jewish, and living in a Manhattan penthouse? Miss Fine”—Niles reaches over and places the back of his hand on Fran’s head—“do you have a fever?”

“Oh, Niles,” she swats his hand away, “I’m not in the mood.”

“It’s been awhile since I’ve heard that one.”

“Niles!”

“Sorry, Miss Fine,” he withdraws his hand with a laugh. “You know I have to warm up before Miss Babcock arrives.”

“Glad to assist,” Fran quips, taking another sip of coffee, and it’s only as she closes her eyes to savor the taste, that he notices there are lines beneath her eyes from what seems to have been a sleepless night. 

The smile sinks from his face.

“You know,” he says quietly, “in all of our acquaintance, I’ve never known of you to injure yourself while dancing.”

Fran opens her eyes only to immediately glance away, tapping her long nails against her mug.

“Val tripped me up when she thought she saw Elton John,” she shrugs dully. “Turns out it was just a really lifelike poster of him behind the bar...”

“I see,” Niles returns, raising a brow. “It was nice of Miss Toriello to forgo her weekend trip with her parents to come back and… boogie woogie oogie with you.”

“Dammit,” she pouts, scrunching her nose. “I didn’t think I’d told you that.”

“You didn’t. I overheard you and Miss Toriello gabbing on the phone about it yesterday morning.”

Fran can’t seem to help herself; she smiles crookedly, even as she shakes her head.

“I dunno who’s more absorbent sometimes—you or the dish sponge.”

He smiles back at her, patting her uninjured leg gently.

“Me, naturally."

"I can believe it, Chatty Cathy," she sighs.

"Now tell me, Miss Fine"—he regains his solemnity quickly, unwilling to let her deflect with jokes—"why does your room look like a tornado went through Loehmann’s?”

Her dark eyes immediately glance around the messy room, as though looking for an excuse and failing to find one.

It’s only now that Niles is sitting down, taking everything in, that he notices that most of the articles strewn about are her favorite clothing items, from her holographic Versace dress to the black tube top that Mr. Sheffield can’t pry his eyes away from every time she wears it.

“I almost did a very stupid thing, Niles,” she half-whispers, looking down into her coffee cup, her fingers tensed and shivering around the handle. “And the thing is, maybe it wasn’t really all that stupid? Maybe it was the smartest thing I could of done in a lifetime of doin’ so many stupid things.”

She pauses briefly before sardonically adding, “People included.”

Though Niles doesn’t have enough dots to connect the full picture, he has what he needs in the way of evidence to get the basic gist: Nigel being in town, the two of them going out, Nigel leaving town, the suitcase, the swollen ankle, and Miss Fine's uncharacteristic melancholy, smeared across her face so sharply that it may as well be lipstick.

He swallows thickly, suddenly grasping how close that they had all been to losing Fran forever.

“Well,” he says, making an effort to hitch an oblivious smile on his face, “isn’t it your mother who says that everything happens for a reason? It seems as though you’re right where you belong.”

“Yeah,” she snorts indelicately. “Twenty-nine multiple times over, single, and livin’ in a mansion with a man who won’t even commit to his meal orders at restaurants, much less his very available and desperate nanny.”

“Beautiful, young, and living in a mansion with three children who love you, a butler who’d be lost without you, and a man who won’t commit to his tie choices either but still cares for you deeply all the same,” Niles corrects her softly. “He was very worried for you when you didn’t come down to breakfast this morning. He didn’t even do the crossword on the Times.”

“Gee,” she rolls her eyes playfully, “how romantic.”

“Very,” Niles grins, “a modern day Romeo—emotional hangups and all.” 

With that, he pats Fran again and stands up; he has no doubt that Mr. Sheffield will be calling for him soon to interrogate him as to Miss Fine’s wellbeing. 

Maybe he can even get C.C. on speaker phone to rub it in her face.

“Y’know, Niles,” Fran smiles at him fondly, “if this whole Mr. Sheffield thing doesn’t work out, we should elope in Vegas in ten yea's.”

“Only if you wear this little number,” he says, bending down and picking up a black cocktail dress from the floor, folding it neatly over his arm.

“You wish you could be so lucky.”

“If we’re going to be in Vegas, anything can happen, I suppose.”

After he retrieves the silver tray from the bedside table, he bends down and kisses Miss Fine lightly on the head, his heart hurting when he notices the way that she closes her eyes beneath the gentle touch—young and vulnerable and terribly hurt by something he can’t quite fix with a well-timed witticism.

“Get some rest, Miss Fine," her murmurs against her head. "I'll check on you a bit."

“Thanks, hubby."

—

Scarcely ten minutes later, he’s down in Mr. Sheffield’s office as per usual, offering the producer a fresh cup of tea even though he had already drunk his traditional two cups at breakfast. 

He insisted, though, on a third, for some excuse he couldn’t quite come up with.

And instead of coming up with an excuse, he immediately asked for all the particulars of Miss Fine’s health.

Predictable chump.

“Thanks, old boy,” Mr. Sheffield frowns, returning to his crossword, tapping the end of his pen arrhythmically against the paper. “Let me know when the doctor for Miss Fine arrives. I want to be there when he checks her over.”

“Ooh la-la-la,” Niles hums, dropping a sugar cube into the tea with a zesty plop.

Mr. Sheffield places his pen down on the desk angrily. 

“Not like that… I just want to ensure she’s going to be well… you know, for the children’s sake.”

“Yes,” he sighs theatrically. “How will the children ever be able to bear their nanny having a twisted ankle?”

“Oh, shut up,” Mr. Sheffield snaps. “I don’t pay you to be sarcastic.”

“No, sir, you pay me to help you with the crossword when you’re missing three-across,” Niles smirks knowingly when he glances down at the incomplete puzzle. “What’s the hint?”

Mr. Sheffield adjusts his wire-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose before looking down again.

“A word that means feeling bad for not doing something that you should have done all along. Disappointment. A sense of shame.”

Niles straightens up with a long-suffering shake of his head.

“Oh, sir, do I really have to spell it out for you?”

[wordsfromthesol]

Panic

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Summary:  You have a panic attack at your friend’s birthday party. Jason is there. Warnings: Panic attacks, Language, alcohol Word Count: 2.6k A/N: Most requested when I polled you guys!

“Gaby, I’m not going to know anyone there!”

“Well, it’s my birthday. So, you’re coming. Oh! I’ll invite Tim! You’re friends with him!”

“Yeah,” you rolled your eyes, not that it did any good since you were on the phone with her, but it made you feel better. You knew that Gaby secretly wished you two would end up together, despite you warning her that you were just close friends. Nothing more. “Alright, fine. I’ll meet you at yours at 10 and we can head out from there?”

“Girl, drinks are expensive! We are pre-gaming, come at 9 so we can do some shots before we leave!”

“You will be the death of me…see you at 9 Gabs.” You hung up the phone and immediately dialed Tim.

“Hey Timmy, I have a favor to ask.”

“Why am I not going to like this?”

“Because you’ll have to pry yourself away from that computer for like a night. But you have to come to Gaby’s birthday with me. I will loose it around all those sorority girls without you.”

“I think you can handle them, Y/N/N. You are very good at making friends.”

“I know I CAN handle them, but I’d rather have you there to help out. Maybe you’ll end up meeting someone? Come onnnn.”

“For some reason, I don’t think I would click with any of Gaby’s sorority friends.” You hear his older brother, Jason in the background.

“Timbers, someone is inviting you to hang out with a bunch of girls and you’re saying no?!”

“It’s just Y/N.”

“Oh gee, thanks Tim.”

“You know what I meant,” he mumbled into the phone before turning back to his brother. “Jay…she wants some company. You should go.”

“DO NOT PAWN ME OFF ON YOUR BROTHER, I SWEAR TO – HE DID NOT JUST HANG UP ON ME.” You realized that you would be facing this party on your own. If you had just told Tim why you wanted him to go, you knew he would stop everything and accompany you, but you didn’t want to be a charity case. Who knows if it will even happen? It’ll be fine.

Finally, 9 pm rolled around and you walked up to Gaby’s front door. You could already hear screaming girls on the other side. You took your key out and walked in, hearing Gaby yell at the top of her lungs, “Guess who’s 22, bitches!” Before turning on the infamous twenty-two song by Taylor Swift. It was the obligatory 22nd birthday song, after all. Gaby screamed once again when she saw you enter the kitchen.

“Y/N! You look amazing and I love you. We are going to have so much fun!” She turned back to pour a round of shots for everyone. You pulled your phone out and sent a text to Tim.

Timmy, if you love me at all you will come out tonight. We are going to Zia’s at 10.

**

Tim looks up from the computer as his phone buzzes. He reads the message and runs his fingers through his hair. He knew that you wouldn’t be asking…twice…if it wasn’t important. He got up from the computer, went to get more coffee and hopefully run into his brother. Thankfully, both a fresh pot and Jason were in the kitchen.

“Jason, Y/N texted me, the party is headed to Zia’s.”

“You want me to go to a party – without you – that your best friend is going to? Care to explain further, Timbers?”

“She asked me to go…twice and I’m really deep into this case…but she never asks twice.”

“Awe, little Timmy is worried about her.”

“Please Jason.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll head there and keep an eye on her.”

Tim nodded as he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in.

**

You got to the club, still waiting for Tim to even acknowledge your message. You knew how enveloped he got researching and whatever else his father had him doing on that dang computer. You would be surprised if he even checked his phone at all. Leaving Gaby, you headed to the bar…in desperate need of a drink.

“Sorority girls too much for you?”

You glanced up, immediately recognizing the voice, and then the person standing next to you. “Please tell me Tim didn’t send you to babysit me.”

“The sap was worried about you. Don’t yell at him too much.”

“At least he didn’t send Damian…” you grumbled, trying to get the attention of the bartender.

“Heh, the little demon would find a way in and cause a scene, wouldn’t he?”

“Probably just drag me out, kicking and screaming, so he didn’t have to watch people having fun.” You leaned over the counter and ordered your standard drink before looking to Jason and motioning for him to order something.

“Make it two,” he said before turning back to you. “So, I don’t take you as someone who needs back-up at these kinds of things.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Your drinks were brought out, but as you reached for your card Jason stopped you to hand the bartender his own. “Thanks, Jay. So you dance?” You asked with a mischievous smirk growing on your face.

“I’m going to have to –” His words cut off as you grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the center of the group of girls you came with.

“GIRLLSSS, look at who I just found. Isn’t he just gorgeous?!” Jason swore your voice went up two octaves. All the girls surrounding him squealed as they took turns trying to get him to dance. He looked over at you with a ‘I’m so getting you back for this’ look in his eyes. The girls, he didn’t mind, the attempts to dance, he did. After a few songs, you needed a refill, and began to fell guilty for Jason’s current predicament so you carefully moved over to him.

“Jayybirdd, I sooo need another drink. I think you do to, doesn’t he girls?” Queue all the girls shrieking in agreement. You grabbed his wrist and led him back to the bar. “Sorry, I had to…but remember I also saved you.”

“I can see why Tim likes you.” He grins as you roll your eyes. As if you needed another person shipping the two of you together.

“He’s one of my best friends, like a brother.” You said with a definitive look in your eyes, willing him to understand that you and Tim would never be romantically involved. In fact, not that you would tell a soul, but the two of you did try one night and it just felt wrong. The two of you kissed and then spent the rest of the night laughing about it.

“Well I don’t want to be your brother.” Jason quipped back at you, as you summoned the bartender and ordered two more drinks.

“Don’t worry. You aren’t.”

“Good.”

Once the drinks arrived, you were dragging Jason back to the dance floor. He resisted a little less this time.

A few more songs had passed, and you felt that pit in your stomach starting to rise. You made your way back to the bar, in hopes of finding an unoccupied corner. Your eyes searched frantically around the club, to no avail. As you tried to begin regulating your breathing, you made your way to the door. Not the smartest thing to be on the streets of Gotham alone, but you couldn’t stay in there anymore.

**

Jason looked up and watched as you headed to the bar, hoping you would bring him back another drink as well. Looking down at the girl who grabbed his waist, he wriggled out of her grip and headed for where he last saw you…only you were no longer there. Okay, maybe she went to the bathroom. He knew Tim would kill him if anything happened to you, so he made his way to the bathrooms, stopping a girl about to enter.

“Hey, can you check if Y/N Y/L/N is in there?”

Thankfully the girl was not completely plastered and noticed the worried look in his eyes. She nodded and pushed open the door. Jason heard muffled calls before the girl came out and shook her head no.

“Fuck. Thanks.” He waved her along and made his way to the exit while searching the crowd for your Y/H/C hair. He steps outside and looks up the street, seeing you turn into an alleyway. What the fuck is she thinking. He broke into a run.

**

Going into an alley probably wasn’t the safest thing, but your mind was racing and thinking straight was not on the agenda. You counted your breathing in your head. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. You slunk to the ground, not caring about the dirt and trash that would coat your favorite skirt. Pulling your knees to your chest you tried to keep counting as you slammed your eyes shut blocking out as much of the outside world as possible. Eventually, you gave up on the counting and were hyperventilating in an alley, in Gotham, alone. You thought you heard your name, so you opened your eyes and saw Jason kneeling in front of you.

“Y/N, what the fuck. What are you doing?”

You jumped to your feet. No no, he can’t see me like this. No no no. You tried to run, but Jason grabbed your wrist and spun you into him. His fury melted as he saw the panic in your eyes. You looked up at him and without thinking pressed your lips against his with desperation. He pulled away and looked at you, confusion glossing over his face. You didn’t care and pulled him back in. You felt your breathing steady and tore your lips from his.

Barely able to form words, you looked at him, “I…panic…attack…” was all you could manage to get out. He nodded and picked you up, walking over to a cab. He opened the door and set you inside before walking around the car and climbing in next to you. He rattled off your address to the driver before pulling you next to him.

As you arrived, you opened the door and climbed out of the car as Jason rushed to your side. He looked at you, as if to ask ‘you okay?’ You nodded, but grabbed his wrist to follow you upstairs. Without saying another word, you opened the door to your apartment and went into the bedroom, you could feel your breathing start to become erratic once again. I just need to take my makeup off and get out of these clothes. Suck it up, Y/N. You can do this.

You stood at your bathroom vanity for far too long, staring at yourself, trying to will yourself to relax and calm down. You didn’t even notice when Jason came up behind you and put a hand on your shoulder, but you instinctively turned around and tucked yourself into his chest. He began to move to the bedroom but you planted your feet in place, determined to at least get out of these disgusting clothes. Taking a deep breath, you released yourself from his grasp and walked to the dresser to pull out an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. At this point, you didn’t care and you stripped off your club clothes and pulled on the clean ones as Jason stood in the doorway of your bathroom.

You crawled into bed and curled into a ball before noticing Jason still staring at you. You reached out your arm, motioning for him to join you. You noticed him sigh before crawling beside you, unbeknownst to you it was because he thought Tim would kill him for this entire situation. Letting you run out of the club and now falling asleep with you in his arms. Surely he was a goner, but he had always liked you. Ever since Tim brought you home all those years ago, but he never had a reason to hang around too much. After having you to himself all night, he knew he had legitimate feelings for his brother’s best friend.

***

You woke up the next day still entangled in Jason’s arms and devastation struck you as you remembered the disaster that occurred the night before. I kissed my best friend’s brother. Shit. Though, you had to admit, you had wanted to for awhile now. Carefully slipping from Jason’s grasp, you searched for your phone and immediately sent a text to Tim.

Don’t hate me. I may have kissed your brother last night.

What the hell happened?

Ugh, I had another stupid panic attack. And my mangled mind was all like, didn’t you read something about kissing helping to regulate your breathing.

I’m sorry, I should’ve been there. I knew there was a reason you asked me to go.

It’s okay Tim.

So…did you like it?

Tim! Wtf!

That’s not a no, Y/N/N!

Grow up!

You plugged your phone into the charger and went into the bathroom to see the state of your makeup. It was a disaster, as you guessed. After washing your face, you exited the bathroom to see Jason sitting up in the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better now that I’m not freaking out in front of my best friend’s brother.” You dragged your hand down your face. “I’m sorry about everything. You shouldn’t’ve had to deal with that. They’ve just been really bad lately…that’s why I wanted Tim to freaking go…but I didn’t want to disappoint Gaby, since it was her birthday –”

“Y/N. Relax. It’s okay. I was just worried about you. Why on earth would you not get me? Instead you go into an alley, by yourself, in fucking Gotham City.”

“I know,” you moved to sit next to him on the bed. “I just, most people don’t understand or know how to handle them. And I didn’t want to worry you…or Gaby. So, my mind just needed an exit strategy.”

“I’ve handled way worse, don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“What, you still wanna hang out with me?”

“Oh, uhm, well it’s not like we hang out much to begin with.” His tone turned almost sad.

“Well, you never ask.” You said blatantly.

“Neither do you!”

“Okay, fair. Well, since you’re here…and you paid for my drinks last night, I think I owe you breakfast. I think Tim even has some –” You stop short realizing that Tim’s clothes would never fit his brother and wave your hand at the thought.

“Tim has what?” He asked, slightly concerned.

“Oh, just some spare clothes here…but I realized you wouldn’t fit in them.”

“He’s going to kill me, by the way.”

“Probably.” You let out a chuckle as you rummage through your dresser for some clothes.

“Mind if I at least shower before we head out?”

“Not at all.” As Jason goes into the bathroom you change clothes and head into the kitchen to make some coffee while you wait.

***

Jason turns on the shower and dials his brother.

“Tim?”

“Where are you Jason? What happened last night? Gaby texted me saying you and Y/N went missing halfway through the night!”

“She had a panic attack, so we got out of there.” Jason opted for a half-truth in order to avoid being hit and/or berated by his younger brother when he got home.

“Hm, so where the hell are you now?”

“I’m still here. At Y/N’s.”

“What the fuck, Todd. Why are you still there?”

“I just wanted to make sure she was okay!” There was a long silence, one that Tim was sure drove his brother crazy. “We kissed.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

“If you like her, I’ll back off.”

“Nah, I was messing with you Jay. I already knew.”

“Bastard.”

“And I already see how the two of you look at each other. I say go for it…But I will kill you if you hurt her.”

“Deal.”