#information commissioner's office

[tofueatingwokerati]

The UK no longer has end to end encryption thanks to Keir Starmer’s Labour government reanimating the zombie policy that is the Snoopers Charter, first peddled by Theresa May’s Tory government and rejected by the public.

Apple withdrawing end-to-end encrypted backups from the UK "creates a dangerous precedent which authoritarian countries will surely follow".

UK now likened to authoritarian regimes and why Starmer won’t challenge Trump since he is in lock step with US policies, openly goes after sick, disabled, pensioners and poorest, increasing their hardship rather than tax the mega rich. US policy is UK policy.

So what does this mean for Apple users in the UK?

All your data in the cloud is no longer secure in comparison to having ADP enabled and can be accessed by the government upon request. The GDPR is all but dead in the UK, there are now so many government policies that snoop on us by the back door with even news outlets online now charging us for access without *cookies enabled (data farming you whilst you read with no option to opt out unless you pay)

I checked with the ICO myself and it is a fully approved policy despite its contradiction to the rights of consent, removed in the process.

If you want a workaround here are my suggestions

Cancel your iCloud storage, your data will stay on the cloud until the renewal date, use that time to back it up locally or on a flash drive.

Change your iMessage settings to delete audio messages after 2 minutes and permanently delete messages after 30 days.

Alternatively, use a third party messaging app with a delete on read feature and disable Apple iMessage altogether.

If you are tech savvy you can set up a USB drive or flash drive directly into your router hub (you should have at least one USB slot, some have two) and use FTP to back up over wifi, you can do this on any device, you don’t need a desktop.

Use a VPN service or set one up. If you’re really technical you can use a Raspberry Pi to do this, but you will need to hard code it. Think Mr Robot.

This change does not impact sensitive data like medical details which remain end to end encrypted.

If you want to learn more on the sweeping bills being pushed through government and any action your can take visit Big Brother Watch: https://bigbrotherwatch.org.uk

*If you want to read news articles without paying for the privilege of not handing over your cookie data, simply disable javascript within your browsers settings and refresh the browser page. Remember to turn it back on when your done. Alternatively disable all cookies but know this will impact your online experience and access.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Hospital staff embroiled in a privacy probe involving the Princess of Wales will likely be facing disciplinary action, an expert has warned.

The Mirror revealed an investigation is underway at the world-renowned The London Clinic into claims Catherine's confidentiality was breached while she was a patient in January.

At least one member of staff was said to have been caught trying to access the 42-year-old's medical notes.

The future Queen had abdominal surgery at the London hospital in January and stayed for a fortnight, as she recovered before returning home to Windsor.

The allegations are the latest blow to hit Catherine, whose absence from public life over the past two months has led to wild conspiracy theories on social media about her whereabouts and health.

Now, an employment expert has outlined the likely next steps for accused staff, while a data protection expert has suggested Catherine could well claim compensation.

Employment partner Tracey Guest at law firm Slater Heelis told the Mirror:

"Any hospital employee who has accessed Catherine's private medical records, without any proper work reason to do so, is at risk of being dismissed due to gross misconduct.

Previous cases for dismissal relating to confidential information have held that it is important for employers to have policies in place, which make it abundantly clear to employees that unauthorised interference with computers/accessing confidential information unnecessarily will carry severe penalties.

No doubt all hospital employees will have been given contracts of employment where confidential information is a key term.

And it is likely that the hospital will have policies in place to make it clear that unlawfully accessing patient confidential information is likely to amount to gross misconduct."

The next steps to follow will depend on the alleged employee's years of service at the clinic. Tracey continued:

"If an employee has two or more years' service, the hospital will need to follow a fair procedure prior to dismissing an employee, otherwise they will be at risk of a claim for unfair dismissal.

This means that the hospital should require the employee to attend an investigation meeting, where the allegations are put to the employee and the employee is given a chance to respond and put forward any explanation/deny the allegations.

If the Investigating Officer decides that there is a case to answer, the employee must then be required to attend a disciplinary meeting.

The employee should be advised in advance in writing of the disciplinary allegations against them and warned that a possible outcome may be dismissal.

The employee should also be given the right to be accompanied to the disciplinary meeting by a fellow employee or trade union representative of their choice.

If an employee is dismissed, they should be given the right to appeal the decision."

It is likely that accessing medical records without any proper work reason is also a breach of data protection, and these allegations would also be discussed with the employee concerned, Tracey explained.

Meanwhile, the employees' alleged actions causing reputational damage to the hospital will also be assessed.

"Given the publicity surrounding this matter, this allegation would be genuine and could provide a further reason to warrant dismissal for gross misconduct (subject to the findings of any appropriate investigation and disciplinary)," Tracey added, before suggesting:

"Any employee involved in accessing medical records without a proper reason to do so may be best advised to resign, in order to avoid having a dismissal on their records."

The clinic's boss said that all appropriate investigatory, regulatory and disciplinary steps will be taken when looking at alleged data breaches.

Al Russell, said in a statement:

"Everyone at the London Clinic is acutely aware of our individual, professional, ethical and legal duties with regards to patient confidentiality.

We take enormous pride in the outstanding care and discretion we aim to deliver for all our patients that put their trust in us every day.

We have systems in place to monitor management of patient information and, in the case of any breach, all appropriate investigatory, regulatory and disciplinary steps will be taken.

There is no place at our hospital for those who intentionally breach the trust of any of our patients or colleagues."

It is a criminal offence for any staff in an NHS or private healthcare setting to access the medical records of a patient without the consent of the organisation's data controller.

Looking at somebody's private medical records without permission can result in prosecution from the Information Commissioner's Office in the UK.

A spokesperson for the data watchdog said:

"We can confirm that we have received a breach report and are assessing the information provided."

Jon Baines, Senior Data Protection Specialist at Mishcon de Reya, outlined what this would mean and suggested that Catherine could claim for compensation.

"Any investigation by the ICO is likely to consider whether a criminal offence might have been committed by an individual or individuals," he began.

"Section 170 of the Data Protection Act 2018 says that a person commits an offence if they obtain or disclose personal data 'without the consent of the controller.'

Here, the controller will be the clinic itself.

"Although there are defences available to someone charged with the offence — such as that they reasonably believed they had the right to 'obtain' the personal data, or on grounds of public interest — such defences are unlikely to apply where someone knowingly accesses patient notes for no valid or justifiable reason.

Mr Baines explained that an offence is only punishable by a fine.

In England and Wales, although the maximum fine is unlimited, there is no possibility of any custodial sentence.

"A further area of potential investigation for the ICO will be whether the clinic itself complied with its obligations under the UK GDPR to have 'appropriate technical or organisational measures' in place to keep personal data secure.," the data expert continued.

"Serious failures to comply with that obligation could lead to civil monetary penalties from the ICO, to a maximum of £17.5m although, in reality, given that such civil fines must be proportionate, it is rare that such large sums are even considered by the ICO.

Individuals, such as - in this case - The Princess of Wales, can also bring claims for compensation under the UK GDPR, and for 'misuse of private information', where their data protection and privacy rights have been infringed."

Mr Baines added:

"Whatever the outcome from the ICO, anyone working in an environment where they might have access to personal data, particularly of a sensitive nature, should be aware that there are potential criminal law implications arising from unauthorised access.

Any organisation holding such information should ensure it has appropriate measures in place to prevent, or at least reduce the risk, of such access."

Earlier today, a health minister said police have "been asked to look at" whether staff at The London Clinic attempted to access the Princess of Wales' private medical records.

MP Maria Caulfield, who is a nurse serving as Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State for Mental Health and Women's Health Strategy, said there could be “hefty implications” if it turns out anyone accessed the notes without permission, including prosecution or fines.

When questioned whether it should be dealt with as a police matter, Ms Caulfield told LBC:

“Whether they take action is a matter for them. But the Information Commissioner can also take prosecutions, can also issue fines, the NMC (Nursing and Midwifery Council), other health regulators can strike you off the register if the breach is serious enough.

So there are particularly hefty implications if you are looking at notes for medical records that you should not be looking at."

Reassuring listeners, she also told Times Radio:

"For any patient, you want to reassure your listeners that there are strict rules in place around information governance about being able to look at notes even within the trust or a community setting.

You can't just randomly look at any patient's notes. It's taken extremely seriously, both by the information commissioner but also your regulator.

So the NMC (Nursing and Midwifery Council), if as a nurse, you are accessing notes that you haven't got permission to access, they would take enforcement action against that. So it's extremely serious.

And I want to reassure patients that their notes have those strict rules apply to them as they do for the Princess of Wales."

Kensington Palace refused to confirm what Catherine was being treated for at the time of the announcement she had surgery but later confirmed the condition was non-cancerous.

An official statement read:

"Her Royal Highness The Princess of Wales was admitted to The London Clinic yesterday for planned abdominal surgery.

The surgery was successful and it is expected that she will remain in hospital for ten to fourteen days, before returning home to continue her recovery."

The Palace also raised that they wanted to keep her health concerns private, adding:

"Based on the current medical advice, she is unlikely to return to public duties until after Easter. The Princess of Wales appreciates the interest this statement will generate.

She hopes that the public will understand her desire to maintain as much normality for her children as possible; and her wish that her personal medical information remains private.

Kensington Palace will, therefore, only provide updates on Her Royal Highness' progress when there is significant new information to share.

The Princess of Wales wishes to apologise to all those concerned for the fact that she has to postpone her upcoming engagements.

She looks forward to reinstating as many as possible, as soon as possible."

As speculation has swirled regarding the Princess' whereabouts, Catherine was most recently seen stepping out in public with Prince William for the first time at the weekend.

The couple, dressed in sportswear, were spotted walking with shopping bags at a farm shop close to their home on the Windsor estate.

[megayogiposts]

Role of UP Chief Minister's Office in Public Grievance Handling

Centralised Public Grievance Redress and Monitoring System (CPGRAMS) is an online platform available to the citizens 24×7 to lodge their grievances. Entire grievances submitted by the citizens in the state on public grievance portal is received by the chief minister office government of Uttar Pradesh and then it is forwarded to the concerned mandate. It is noticeable that Chief Minister Office…

[davidhencke]

Top judicial body challenged by Information Commissioner to take freedom of information requests over complaints against judges

John Edwards, Information Commissioner A ground breaking decision by the Information Commissioner which would lead to the end of secrecy around the behaviour of judges will soon be tested in one of the highest tribunals in the country. For years the Judicial Conduct Investigations Office, which, among other matters investigates complaints against judges, has claimed it is a private independent…

[angelfishe]

hiiiiii :3

I was wondering if you could do head canons or a one shot about the traveler and paimon visiting the fortress of meropide to wish wriothesley a happy birthday. They decide to quietly enter through the main door to his office to surprise him, but they see wriothesley and reader making out. you don't have to do it if you don't want too!

please and thank you

I hope this manages to please you and if I'm sorry it's kind out of context. Hope you enjoy it

"𝐔𝐇-��𝐇 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓"

<< Genshin man x reader >>

Character : diluc, kaeya, alhaitham, ayato, zhongli, childe, neuvillete, wriostheley, dottore, pantalone, capitano

"Imagine getting in the middle of the act"

Warning may contain NSFW content

⚠️ Minors do not interact please ⚠️

Diluc it's no secret to do staff of the dawn winery about you guys sex life, I mean everyday Adeline has to change the cum stained bed sheet to fresh ones for you guys to dirty it again, I mean you guys are so loud to the point it can be heard in the servants corners thats the reason why the staff have eye bags under their eyes they didn't get enough sleep due to the noise, at some point you guys broke the bed unable to survive diluc strength you guys have to buy a new one and when asks diluc is unable to forge the words to say. During angel share closing kaeya accidently left some important documents on the table and when he went inside he saw you and diluc is doing something busy and his present stop you guys he immediately grab the document leaving an angry diluc yelling at him to leave.

Kaeya the entire mondstat knows you've guys business, I mean when he's bored he asks for your presence under the excuse of an official knight business which everybody knows it's a code for "playtime" in the HQ, Unfortunately there's a new rookie working in the knights of favonius that no one warn them about the calvary captain break time is, and that unfortunately lead towards the rookie opening the door of the captains office and seeing his lover being hit on in the back by the captain, the rookie immediately slamming the door close with blush on their face, and the knights around HQ was like "first time ?"

Alhaitham even tho alhaitham put on a stern face, he's by far one of the most shameless Characters towards location it doesn't matter where it is in the forest, the library, in a tent in the middle of the desert, in a temple there's no limit to where you guys are gonna do it, poor kaveh having one of his projects staying up all night to work on it and hearing the bed creaking on the other room and yelled to keep it down from his room towards you guys. During alhaitham birth day cyno, tighnari and kaveh was planning on holding a surprise party on alhaitham, unfortunately when they burst in the room and they witness alhaitham getting his "birthday present" from you unfortunately you were unable to make eye contact with them for one week for alhaitham he act as if he did not just give them trauma, that's why knock first when entering his room

Ayato this man is SHAMELESS, even tho most of the citizens don't know what's going on in the kamisato estate, the servants fall into victims to his shenanigans. It's no secret ayato is into shibari as well in his and beloved bedroom above the bed there's a hook to you know. Thoma is by far has to deal with his antics having to wipe the stained of the wet soiled sheets or floor. Every time he asks to bring a snack it's always you to bring it because to be honest you are the snack not the tea and cake, and after finishing he would buy you boba for you and him to enjoy. Even if he gets caught out side of his circle he would bribe them or threaten to cut off the person's tounge and ruin their lives if they dare to release information about the yashiro commissioner private life with his beloved. But that was never the case because usually the spectator would be immediately dealt with by the shimatsuban or are too afraid and fled the nation. He needs to keep his reputation and image clean and if someone there is to shame you or his clan they would be dealt immediately.

Zhongli a gentleman on the street, monster on the sheets. Zhongli is a very popular consultant in ancient liyue history and during afternoons he would usually have a nice walk with you but it's not nice with you when you're limping because of how hard he went from last night. In ancient times to modern liyue it's very known for the nation to have earth quakes once a month it's not dangerous but it might scare some tourist visiting liyue but the citizens of the nation has gone to normalize this earthquake they believe it's rex lapis rearranging liyue or shedding. But in truth once a month zhongli would have rut and take you to his private domain to release his stress and that's the reason why the nation once a month have earthquakes.

Childe a manace amongst society or in teyvat when it comes to privacy, he doesn't care if someone walks in on you guys, he's too busy doing you to not to care if he give someone mental scars but he would always lock the doors when you guys are visiting his family he doesn't want to see his little siblings rearranging his lovers organs as well as sound proofing the entire by sound proofing by putting a pillow on your month for you to bite on to make sure not to release any sound. During one dinner meeting Teucer once had a bright idea of asking something towards you guys in front of the family "big brother why does (brother / sister ) ( your name ) calls you daddy" and the dinner table suddenly went quite and childe answer with "were just playing house Teucer" and Teucer innocently went back to his dinner not noticing the awkward atmosphere around the family.

Neuvillete pretty much a gentleman plus very new to these sorta things I would like to say is a switch, during the climax of the act he would cry during it not tears of sadness but tears of happiness when climaxing best feeling in the world for him, and during this time rain would fall on the city of Fontaine the people it's a normal accuracy. The melusine knows too well about you guys when you visit him the melusine prohibited anyone from entering the ludex office due to this important business meeting, he needs it he's very stressed due to paperwork. as well having a private underwater cave for you guys to do it unbontherd by the city or being too loud.

Wriostheley everybody knows not to bother the duke when he's sweetheart is visiting or else mess with your credit coupons being cut a large half or extra pipe duties for the guards. No one is brave enough or respects him to not mess with his sweetheart They call you the ( marquis / marquise ) of meriopede, holding a position lower than duke but still one of the prison administrator. Unfortunately during the day traveler and paimon decided to visit wriostheley during a busy day, the other workers of the prison were too busy dealing with duties to keep them occupied from interrupting him. And it was too late to warn them the next thing you hear both of their screams and them immediately leaving the office with their face fully red and covering their eyes. What they witnessed was the duke discussion of "business" with the ( marquis / marquise ).

Dottore this man doesn't like when people interrupt him and his lover private time, his clones are by far fine walking in as long as it's not the little one of him walking in so that's why they have to say their ID before going in. And when his clones walk in he would immediately release a pissed "hmmph" and continue on even after finishing you have his clones to satisfy even tho he said having intercourse with them is not necessary and it's your choice to have it or not, but sometimes after finishing or when he's busy to entertain you he would assigned the clones to keep you busy or satisfy you I mean they don't mind it they actually enjoy it. But when one of his lab rats or lower ranking was caught betraying the fatui and went to beg for their life and came rushing in and end up witnessing the doctor with his spouse, soon the lower ranking researcher was used as a test subject for his next experiment how unfortunate his fate was originally gonna be a quick towards the head now they have to suffer due to interrupting his time with his beloved.

Pantalone this man is stressed out due to the amounts of paper work and how much the fatui cost to operate, everyday Is a new bill about something. Dottore needing new funds, childe spending habits, materials, paychecks, taxes and other stuff and that's why he loves having you in his office and when he's overstressed and needs stress relief he would kindly ask to sit on his lap or to kneel down between his legs. He also favors toys and fancy lingerie but when there's a business meeting he tends to leave those things out in public. One time when one of his assistants went inside the office to grab a document he requested in his table is a vibrator and a lacy black underwear and some stained left on the floor the assistant quickly left the office with his paper not minding about what they just witnessed because it's a normal occurrence for them and his other assistant or people who work under him and for those people who accidentally walk in they would be paid a large sum of mora to keep their mouth shut or have their mouth shut by having their tounge cut out. He has a reputation to keep of course.

Capitano ah the captain, the leader of the military of Snezhnaya, number one fatui Harbingers out of eleven of them. Many people love the captain even amongst the fatui being praised for his self righteousness and capabilities. And some even praise his abilities as a lover. Imagine when he walks out of his tent and his entire squad claps and praises his skills in bed. "Man I wish my lover would make me scream the same way the captain would make his beloved scream" or " I'm pretty much sure the captain got a large rack under their" comments spread around the fatui I mean the rumors are true tho. But it's pretty much embarrassing for both of you. So that's why the captain started to tie you up, gagged you as well blindfolding you to make sure not a sound or creak of bed let's out to make sure no one listens to you sing. During his trip in natlan you and him were enjoying the hot spring and ended up getting too "steamy" and got caught by the villagers due to how loud it is.

[ollyissleepy]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

pairings: platonic yandere!batfam x uninterested!male!reader summary: After being caught red handed stealing, (name) finds himself in the Wayne Manor, surrounded by his new family. (Name)'s disinterested in bonding is met with equally not caring siblings and father. As he spends his days alone, (name) realises his new family might care much more than he originally thought the did. cw: stealing, swearing, underage smoking, reader commits a crime a/n: look at him!! he's finally talking to someone who isn't Alfred!!! I'm so proud!!! proofreading? what's that? based on this idea I had

m.list • part: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

"And so we meet again. "Commissioner Gordon sits down across from the boy, setting paper cups on the table. "And all thanks to Batman."

"What would we ever do without him?" (name) sneered, taking a sip of the tea from one of the cups. "I confess to whatever you want to charge me with, by the way."

"There's no need for you to do that. Your father already handled everything." Gordon places a stack of paper on the desk, encouraging the boy to take a look at them.

(Name) clicked his tongue as he was reading over the papers. Bruce Wayne really did handle everything. The boy wanted to laugh at 'his father's' attempt at keeping up the reputation and sweeping everything under the rug. There's a knock on the door, and, after receiving permission from the commissioner, police officers enter the room.

"Somebody's here to take him home," a man dressed in uniform announced, his back straight and ready for the next orders.

Gordon waved the police officer away, signalling for the teenager to stand up. The two of them walk down the hallway to the front of the station. At the front, he met with the butler, his eyes scanning over (name) from the moment he came into view. Alfred and the commissioner exchange polite greetings.

"I hope he didn't give you much trouble," Alfred said, looking over the boy one more time, making sure he hadn't gotten hurt on the days he was alone in the city.

"Don't worry about it." Gordon smiles, placing a hand on (name)'s shoulder. "He was worse before you guys took him in. This time we even got to chat a bit." His voice sounded almost proud of the progress he made with the boy.

Alfred takes (name) to the car that he parked right at the front door of the police station. The boy wonders if he should sit in the passenger seat, next to the butler. He decides to sit in the back again, at the chance that the man is mad at (name) for giving him more work. Alfred sits down at the driver's seat, putting the keys into the ignition, not starting the engine. He turns his body around towards the teenager, his eyes filled with something (name) didn't quite recognise anymore. 

"Please, don't run away like that. Ever." The butler's voice is low, but the sharpness of it doesn't reach the man's eyes. "We were all so worried."

"Worried? If it wasn't for that fool in latex, we wouldn't be talking right now." (Name)'s voice comes out sharper than the butler's. The boy's brows furrowed at the, what in his eyes is, a fake care.

The butler doesn't reply, just stares at the boy. He not only wasn't expecting (name) to speak like him that way, but he also wasn't informed that one of the vigilantes in the city was the one that brought him into the station. The older man felt his heart squeezing, knowing that the boy took his worry and care for (name)'s wellbeing as something that wasn't real. Wasn't true.

"Alfred—" (name) tried to speak, knowing that he took this too far.

Alfred didn't let him finish, turning around and starting the car. (Name) was left alone in the backseat, filled with regret over his own words.

The ride to the manor feels worse than the first one. Instead of a man at the driver's seat, who had one poor attempt at bonding, it was Alfred behind the steering wheel. The same man who had respected every boundary (name) had set. The man who made the boys short stay in the manor somewhat bearable. The teenager recognises that he should've voiced his frustrations in a different way. And most certainly, not by lashing out at an older man, who hasn't done anything to use him.

Alfred drives into the garage, parking the car between two others, each just as luxurious as the one he was driving. (Name) braces himself, taking a deep breath before leaving the car. The butler barely manages to make it to the side of the car the boy was sitting in when the teenager was already out of the vehicle. Alfred, after noticing that (name) doesn't need help getting out of the car, starts walking away. The boy doesn't let him go too far, grabbing his hand to stop him.

"I'm sorry." (Name) doesn't dare to look at the butler's face, too ashamed. "I shouldn't have said that. I know out of all of them, you would look for me."

Alfred smiles softly. Even though he still hasn't figured out the way (name)'s mind works, the butler is happy with the progress the boy seems to be making. The man puts his hand on (name)'s shoulder, squeezing it. The teenager's head shots up, surprised at Alfred's reaction to his apology. He was expecting many things: a cold shoulder, some shouting. Not this. Not the warm hand on his shoulder, not the smile on the butler's face. (Name) became even more confused when the man offered him some tea and cookies, acting almost as if he fully forgave the boy for his tantrum. 

During their tea, Alfred had promised to show (name) where the library is located in the manor, hoping that the boy would have something to do and also to check if he was taught how to read. And that could help with finding potential tutors for the teenager, allowing him to gain any sort of education. Bringing the boy to the library, Alfred was watching carefully from the entrance, hoping to see what book (name) would reach for.

It didn't take long for the teenager to form a new routine inside the manor. Every morning he would come down to the kitchen just before Alfred, still persistent on making his own breakfast. He would eat in silence as the butler works on the breakfast for the rest of the family. After his meal, (name) would usually hide away in the library with a book of his choosing. The boy would end his day with a small dinner, which Alfred always complained about not being enough for a growing boy, just to hide in his room.

"Do you think I could get, like, a calendar or something?" (Name) asked during one of the breakfasts, looking for a better way to track the time to his legal age. His plans on leaving the manor didn't change; the teenager still wants to leave. This time he wants to do it legally and hopefully with more resources.

"Sure. I'll bring you one." Alfred smiled, looking from the food he was preparing for just a moment.

The following day, after yet another long day spent in the library, (name) returned to find a calendar neatly placed on his desk, just as the butler had promised. He circled the day of his birthday with a thick marker and hung it up next to the door. That way, every day, as he's leaving his room, the boy can cross off another day, bringing himself closer to the day he can leave. 

(Name)'s routine didn't last long, as the boy found himself bored of reading. He decided to give it another go at exploring the manor, this time less anxious, aware that the worst thing he could encounter in the halls might be the residents.

The teenager feels much braver than the first time he was exploring the place, going as far as opening some of the doors. Most of them led to a few empty bedrooms or abandoned study rooms. That's when he stumbles upon a suspicious-looking grandfather clock. Not only did it appear to be much wider than the few (names) seen in his life, but the floor around him seemed to be pretty scratched up as if it had moved around a lot. The boy carefully inspects the clock, attempting to move it to the side. When that doesn't work, he stares at the face of it, the hands frozen. The time stopped at six fifteen. Looking at the clock hands, (name) wonders if some sort of mechanism moves the clock around the floor. The boy tries to play around with the hands when he notices that he could only move the minute hand; the hour cannot be adjusted. He brings both of the hands to the number six on the face of the clock. Then, he hears it. Some cogs are moving inside the grandfather clock.

(Name) stumbles back, surprised he actually managed to move the clock. As the object moved, it revealed a dark hallway behind it. The boy tilted his head to the side, staring down the corridor. He looked around to see if anyone could be lurking around. Once he was certain that he would only be seen by the cameras and whoever was watching them, he walked into the darkness.

It took a very long hallway and a few sets of stairs before the teenager managed to find out where the secret entrance led him to. He found himself in a vast cave that appeared to be located underneath the manor.

It wasn't just an ordinary cave. It was filled to the brim with all sorts of technology and weapons. All bat-themed, which (name) found rather odd. He didn't understand why his father not only had weapons inspired by Gotham's most annoying vigilante; the man also hid it all under the manor like some sort of sick fanboy. (Name)'s face is twisted with disgust the more he explores the cave. He stares at the main computer with multiple screens attached to it, labelling his father as a stalker in his mind.

He walks even further into the cave, already with a plan to mess with his father in mind. That's when he finds them. The costumes. One of Batman, Robin and the rest of the circus. All safely inside some glass boxes. (Name) grinned. His father is the one running the circus of vigilantes. It will make the rest of his stay in the manor even more fun. 

(Name) decided to leave before his visit to the Batcave could attract too much attention. He walked past the desk with the computer, stopping in his tracks. Messing with them a little wouldn't hurt much, right?

Without giving it a second thought, the boy grabs all the random pens scattered round the desk. Nobody should really miss these particular ones, but the sudden absence of them would be rather annoying to whoever is working at it. (Name) makes sure that the papers aren't moved, just in case.

With the pens stuffed in his pockets, the teenager leaves the cave. He puts the handles of the clock the same way they were before he left that wing of the manor. (Name) put some of the pens in the library and a few in some of the studies. Making it look like they always were there. He also brought one to his room. A keepsake.

He started the next day as normal, with breakfast in the kitchen hours before the rest of the family woke up. Alfred walked in, looking at the boy with amusement. He leaned against the kitchen island right before the boy.

"So, pens?" The butler asked, chuckling.

The teenager laughed as well, grateful that somebody else in the manor found his little escapade to the cave funny.

However, there were people in the manor who didn't appreciate the joke. One of them was the boy, who looked to be (name)'s age. He stopped in front of (name) as he was walking into the library. His sharp blue eyes looked over (name), annoyance slipping through them.

"Pens? Really?" the boy with blue eyes asked, blocking (name)'s way.

"What pens?" the boy asked, blinking innocently.

"Don't play dumb. You know what pens."

"Well, the only pens I saw were the ones in the library. They looked unused, so I borrowed one," (name) shrugged.

"That's not what I'm talking about," the teenager with dark, messy hair snapped, narrowing his eyes.

"Then I have no clue what you want from me."

"You stole the pens!" The teenager pointed an accusing finger at him.

"What pens? I'm telling you, I just grabbed one from the library!" (name) protested.

"The ones from the cave, idiot!"

"What are you even talking about?" (name) asked, continuing to play dumb, his head tilted to the side. He knew he probably couldn't fool any of the vigilantes, but at least he could annoy the one in front of him.

"The Batcave! I know you went down there and stole the pens!" The boy in front of (name) said, his voice rising in frustration.

"Batcave? Sounds like a sex dungeon," he said, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Does Bruce have one in the basement? Gross."

The vigilante grunts with frustration. He stares at the boy as if debating if continuing to talk to (name) was worth it. Then, he storms off, disappearing deep into the halls of the manor. (Name) counted it as a win in his book. 

During the next few days, (name) appeared to be on his best behaviour. Going as far as to not even look towards the corridor where the grandfather clock was located. He spends time with the butler, reads even more books at the library and avoids any and all contact with the rest of the residents. Luckily for the boy, nobody else came to complain about the 'stolen' pens.

(Name) keeps up with his behaviour for a couple of days. That is until Alfred mentions the manor being empty the following day. It seemed as if the butler was giving the boy a green light to mess with 'his' family some more.

As he walks into the Batcave for the second time, (name) isn't quite sure how he could inconvenience the vigilantes. He decides against messing with the computer, worried that they might send someone who wasn't just going to yell at him. The last thing the boy wanted was to get beaten up by a 'family member'.

He walks into the area with the costumes and finds gold. Not one, but two of the cases with Robin's costumes were open. He walked up to the one that looked like it belonged to a young teen. (Name) wonders if it belongs to the brat that had the audacity to mention his mother.

With a grin on his face, the boy grabs the mask of the robin's costume, hiding it in his pocket. He steps over towards the other robin's costume and does the same. (Name) doesn't touch anything else. Taking stuff from the entire family would attract too much attention. And picking on the robins seemed easy enough. Considering they were forgetful enough to not close the boxes their costumes were stored in.

As Alfred is distracted with cleaning on the other side of the manor, (name) sneaks off to smoke in the gardens. He finds a tree further towards the back of them and the pond. The one he had the pleasure of meeting that weird man the last time he went out for a smoke. Halfway through the cigarette, the teenager takes out the masks he took from the robins. He looks at them closely, even going as far as putting one of them closer to his face. He scoffs at the idea of being a pawn for a man dressed in latex. He finishes the cigarette, crushing it against one of the robin's masks. (Name) throws the masks under the tree, letting the boys look for it themselves. He takes the cigarette butt with him, preferring to throw it into a trashcan. 

The next day, (name) picked up another book, getting comfortable on a bench with a good view of the door to the library. He began to read the first page when the youngest child of Wayne Manor passed by the room.

"Dirty thief. Be glad Father didn't throw you out like the trash you are," the boy sneered.

(Name) barely glanced up. He knew this was one of the Robins, but he had no clue what his name was. Damian? Daniel? Dominic? He had no idea.

"But that's exactly what I'm aiming for," (name) called after him, his eyes not leaving the book in his hands.

No other interactions happened for the rest of the week in the manor. (Name) had only one more trip to the Batcave during that time. He just went inside and stared at one of the cameras for ten minutes before walking out. Didn't touch anything, just walked in, stared and left.

On Saturday, as the teenager was walking into the garden, somebody called his name. The boy turned around, spotting Duke walking in his direction. (Name) leaned casually near the doorway, waiting for the teenager to catch up.

"I heard what you did in the cave. You must be good at stealing," Duke said.

"If you came here to nag me about it, then fuck off," (name) replied without hesitation, ready to walk out.

"No, I need your help," Duke said, lowering his voice.

"Oh? The ever-so-obedient Wayne child wants me to steal something for him? You do know stealing is a crime, right?" (name) smirked.

"There’s something I need you to get for me. A necklace. It belonged to my mother. I thought it was lost forever, but... I saw it a few days ago, and the person that had it didn't want to sell it to me." Duke spoke, glancing around worried somebody would catch them together. (Name) nodded, thinking.

"You’ve got patrol tonight?" (name) asked.

"Yeah, I do," Duke confirmed.

"You’ll turn off the cameras right before leaving. That way I should have enough time for me to leave the Manor and get far enough away," (name) said, piecing the plan together.

"Okay, I guess," Duke agreed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Good. After you're done with your patrol, lie to them. Make up something urgent. I know you can handle it. We’ll meet in the alley between the laundromat and the old Batburger on the 9th. We'll talk about the necklace there. Just to be safe," (Name) said.

"Thank you," Duke said sincerely.

"Don’t thank me," (name) shot back. "I’m not doing this out of kindness. I trust you’ll come up with a fair price for the job, Duke."

"I will," Duke promised.

"Great. Now get lost before someone sees us together and starts asking questions," (Name) said with a flick of his hand. 

Hours later, (name) stands in the middle of his room. Dressed in black from head to toe, a hoodie in his hands. The boy isn't sure if he's making the right choice. Even if Duke had promised to make it worth it, he still had second thoughts. (Name) is used to working alone. By himself and for himself. The teenager had promised himself years ago that he wouldn't work for anyone, not wanting to repeat the mistakes his mother did.

The lights in his room flickered, the space going dark for a second before lighting up again. It was (name)'s clue to leave. It's no time to dwell on it. He should leave.

(Name) moves around the manor with confidence. Making it to the back door with his head held high. He knew that in case the butler would find him, he could lie about needing some fresh air.

The boy leaves the property in a similar way he did the first time, using an opening in the fence. He walks slowly, as rushing could bring attention. He was caught running away recently, and he wasn't interested in being caught again.

Waiting in the alleyway started to feel like an eternity. Perched up against the wall, hidden within the shadows, he managed to smoke the rest of the pack of cigarettes he had. (Name) starts to question if Duke will manage to get away from the rest of the circus. The boy sighs, throwing the empty pack into a dumpster nearby. Why did he agree to this?

Somebody jogged into the alley, boots splashing through a shallow puddle without slowing. The yellow accents on the person's suit caught the faint light from a flickering street lamp overhead, casting sharp shadows across their face. The mask was pulled low over their eyes, but that didn't stop (name) from figuring out who it was. Duke, finally. The tension in the teenager's shoulders said enough; Duke was nervous about the whole ordeal.

"(Name?)" Duke called out, glancing around.

"Took you long enough," (name) said, stepping out of the shadows. "Started to think you wouldn't show."

"Lots of work tonight, sorry," Duke said, rubbing the back of his neck. "We’ve got a few minutes before they start looking for me."

"Alright. What does the necklace look like, then?" (Name) asked, getting straight to the point.

Duke pulled a folded photo from his pocket, handing it over. It showed his mother, smiling warmly, wearing a delicate necklace.

"And where am I supposed to find it?" (Name) asked, eyes flicking from the picture back to Duke.

"At the pawn shop down the street," Duke said quietly. "The owner refuses to sell it to me. Something about it being too valuable to hand over to a kid like me."

"Alright then. Guess he won't be making any money off it," (name) said with a shrug. "His loss, really."

Duke didn’t say anything, just nodded, his eyes scanning the alley nervously, clearly worried the rest of the Bat-family might already be looking for him.

"Go," (name) told him. "I’ll grab it and bring it to the Manor. I’ll give it to you there." 

Both of the boys go their separate ways; Duke returns to the Batfamily, acting as if nothing happened. (Name) walks through the alleyways, looking for the backdoor to the pawnshop.

Finding the right door wasn't hard for the boy. It wasn't the first time (name) sneaked into a pawnshop, and he knows the way shop owners secure the backdoors to places like this. The teenager takes his time opening the locks one by one, trying to avoid triggering any alarms.

As the last lock falls onto the ground, the teenager can open the door with little to no worry. He steps inside to the employee area, looking around for the electrical box. Walking up to it, (name) begins to turn off switches one by one, turning off the electricity in the shop. In complete darkness, he moves towards the main area of the shop. In there the boy can see much better, thanks to the street lights coming through the security bars.

(Name) stands in the middle of the shop, scanning the shelves for the necklace Duke wants. He spots it on the jewellery bust behind the counter. The boy walks over, making sure it's the necklace he saw in the picture. Once he was sure, he slowly took it off, trying not to damage it. With the necklace in hand, he turns to the counter, looking under it to see if there are any jewellery boxes he could put it in.

After some rummaging through the shelf under the cash register, (name) managed to find a box to put the necklace in. With the jewellery secure and hidden away in one of his pockets, the boy got ready to leave the pawnshop. He looked back at the cash register, remembering that he no longer had any cigarettes on him. With a sigh, the teenager returned to the register, taking out a few bills.

(Name) took his time returning to the manor. He had what he came out here for, so he didn't see the reason to rush. On his way back he stopped by a gas station, where he knew nobody would question him buying cigarettes.

The teenager walked back into the manor through the same door he'd slipped out of earlier. What (Name) didn’t expect was to find Alfred standing right behind it, waiting for him. The butler looked at the boy with disappointment as the smell of cigarettes was filling the man's nostrils.

"I went out for some fresh air?" (name) said, trying to sound innocent.

Alfred didn’t buy it. He waited for the boy to confess where exactly he was.

"Fine. I needed some time away from the Manor," (name) admitted, shifting uncomfortably. "But I returned, didn’t I?"

"Give me them," Alfred said, extending his hand. "The cigarettes. I know you have them. You reek…"

(Name) reluctantly handed over the pack, hoping that that was the only thing the butler caught up on. The jewellery box suddenly felt heavy in his pocket.

"Go back to your room," Alfred ordered. "And I better not catch you with a new pack." 

(Name) runs off, taking multiple stairs at a time, just to get away before the butler starts asking more questions.

He moves towards his room, wondering how he could return the necklace to Duke. The boy needed to think of a way he could do that without being spotted. (Name) settled on sneaking into Duke's room before breakfast and leaving it there.

When (name) opened the door to his room, he learned that he didn't have to sneak in anywhere. There he was, Duke, sitting on his bed, waiting. The teenager appeared lost in thoughts, as he didn't look up when (name) opened the door. The boy stepped inside, a soft clack of the door heard behind him. The quiet noise was apparently enough to snap Duke out of his thoughts.

"Do you have it?" Duke asked, standing up from (name)'s bed.

"Yeah, who do you take me for?" (Name) tossed the small box with the necklace in Duke's direction, making sure he caught it.

Duke opened the box, his eyes widening when he saw the necklace, his mother's necklace, glinting under the light.

"Thank you," Duke said, his voice filled with gratitude as he suddenly rushed toward (Name), pulling him into a tight hug. "It means so much to me. I promise, this trip will be worth it."

(Name) froze, not used to physical affection. He stood there, awkwardly stiff, as Duke pulled away almost immediately.

Without another word, Duke dashed out of the room, leaving (Name) standing in the middle of his own, the silence settling around him.

The next morning, (name) walked into the kitchen, unsure of what the butler would do. Was he going to be punished? Has Alfred somehow found out about the necklace? With trembling hands, the boy worked on his own breakfast. He was ready for it to be the last meal he had with the man.

Alfred entered the kitchen, greeting the boy. He doesn't say anything else. He starts to move around the kitchen, just as he always does. Nothing about the way he acted had changed, and (name) didn't know if the butler decided to let it go or if it's just quiet before the storm. But then, the teenager finishes his breakfast, leaving the dishes in the sink. Not once he was stopped by Alfred, not even as he was leaving the room to spend time in the library.

(Name) settles on a bench, getting comfortable with the book he started the other day. The manor is quiet, as always, the rest of the residents are busy in their rooms. The boy gets absorbed in the book in his hands, not noticing somebody entering the library. 

"Alfred was right about finding you here," Duke said as he approached. (Name) looked up from his book.

"Not much else for me to do," he said, lifting the book slightly to show it.

Duke sat down on the bench next to him, and for a moment, the library fell into a comfortable silence.

"I brought you your payment," Duke said eventually. "Told them my phone broke and asked for a new one. It's all yours now."

"Thanks, but..." (Name) hesitated. "My phone works just fine."

"Barely," Duke teased. "It looks ancient."

(Name) chuckled under his breath.

"Just keep it," Duke said with a grin. "Besides, Alfred was already planning on giving you one. Had a whole SIM card and a new number ready for you."

"Guess I won't be escaping the upgrade, huh?" (Name) joked.

"Nah, dude," Duke said, grinning wider.

He noticed the way (name) still looked a little unsure about the new phone.

"I could teach you how to use it," Duke offered. "They're pretty cool once you get the hang of it."

"...Alright," (name) said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

That day marked the first time that (name) not only didn't spend time alone in the manor but also was willingly spending his time with someone his age.

Duke told him everything he knew about his brother's new phone, making sure to put his phone number in it. He talked about getting a phone case, wondering which one would suit (name)'s overall look.

The two boys were enjoying each other's presence so much that neither of them noticed the butler watching them from afar. Alfred heard laughing when he was cleaning in the same wing as the library was located on and went in to check. That's when he noticed (name) and Duke, both hunched over the phone. He watched them for a moment, glad that the new boy finally was interacting with someone his age. The butler left before any of the boys noticed him, not wanting to disturb either of them.

Duke didn't stop at explaining how his brother's new phone works. He went out of his way to spend even a second of his time with (name). Interacting with him was easy since Duke also was rather new to the family and not always had an easy time fitting in. (Name) seemed to understand that.

Duke even managed to convince Alfred to take them to the city so they could spend time somewhere that isn't the manor. The butler wasn't sure at first. It took a lot of promises to be on his best behaviour from (name) that he agreed to drop them off at the mall.

"Have fun, young Master Duke (name)," Alfred said before driving away.

Both boys walked into the mall. Duke couldn’t help but think about the way the butler had addressed (name).

"Why doesn’t Alfred call you 'master'?" Duke asked.

"I asked him not to," (name) replied, looking around at the different shops.

"Why? Most of us just accept it as one of his weird quirks," Duke said, curious.

"Usually when people use titles instead of my name, they mean it in a derogatory way," (Name) explained. "It’s usually 'brat' or 'thieving bastard child', just different ways to make me feel small. 'Young master'... isn’t that much different. It strips me of my identity, in a way." 

Duke nods, not picking up the subject again. He knew that if his brother wanted to talk about this more, (name) wouldn't hesitate to. Instead, he drags the boy over to one of his favourite comic shops.

The teenagers spent hours at the mall, walking from shop to shop. Duke fills in (name) on all the things he missed out on, as he was focusing on surviving and not being a child. By the end of their outing, (name) not only had new pieces in his wardrobe, but he also learnt so much about the world of normal teenagers that it made his head hurt.

(Name) ate in the dining room that day, Duke and Alfred his only companions. The boy didn't speak much, tired from the day of being in public. Duke, on the other hand, was talking the butler's ears off, telling him about everything they did and all the things they saw.

Alfred kept smiling, listening to Duke's story. He couldn't help but feel proud at the way these two seemed to have gotten close. He only left the room after both of them were finished with their meals. With empty plates in hand, he excuses himself from the dining room. Duked turned over to his newfound friend, a new idea for a hangout in mind.

"Next time I'm taking you to an arcade," Duke said with a grin. "I have a feeling you'd be good at the games there."

"Yeah, whatever you say," (name) laughed. "Though I might need a few days to recover from this trip."

"Aww, did the mall tire you out?" Duke teased. "Does the little baby need a nap?"

(Name) shoved Duke, laughing. As they joked, Duke spotted someone standing in the cracked doorway.

"Hey, Damian, what's up?" Duke called out.

(Name) turned to look, just in time to see the boy run off without answering. (Name) scoffs. 

"And he called me weird," (name) muttered.

"He's like that sometimes," Duke said, shrugging. "Don't mind him." 

The next day, as (name) was finishing making his breakfast, somebody entered the kitchen. The boy looked up, ready to greet what he expected to be the butler. Only for these words to be caught in his throat, noticing it's not Alfred but Damian, his youngest brother.

Neither of them said anything to each other, (name) barely looking at the younger boy. He hoped that if he ignored Damian hard enough, the boy would go away and not bother him.

"Good morning, (Name)," Alfred said as he entered the kitchen. "Ah, young master, you're up early."

"I was hungry, so I came downstairs," Damian replied.

"I could fix you something small if you'd like," Alfred offered. "I'm sure a snack before breakfast wouldn't hurt."

"Thank you," Damian said politely.

(Name) fully expected the boy to leave after that, not wanting to disturb the quiet routine he shared with Alfred. But instead, Damian moved closer, stepping right up beside (Name) and standing there, silently, as the butler began preparing his snack.

Brother bonding time didn't last long, with (name) finishing his breakfast in record time. All to avoid spending more time with the younger boy than was deemed necessary.

As he walks out, he doesn't notice the determination in Damian's eyes.

Something was telling Alfred that it wouldn't be the first time the youngest Wayne would be joining the two of them in the kitchen.

m.list • part: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

taglist: @amber-content @bellethesleepypotato @leeiasure @sleepdeprivedcrappywriter @tenthmilo @eyeless-kun @holyfishbailiffpeanut @cuntiesweet @jsprien213

comment to be added!

[ltwilliammowett]

Glossary of Nautical Terms - as used in the late 18th and early 19th centuries

Aft: at or towards the stern or after part of a ship, the opposite of bow.

Aloft: overhead, or above.

Athwart: across.

Bank: a rising ground in the sea, differing from a shoal, because not rocky but composed of sand, mud or gravel.

Becalmed: to halt through lack of wind.

Bow: the foremost end or part of a ship, the opposite of stern.

Bowsprit: a large mast or piece of timber which stands out from the bow of a ship.

Burthen: the older term used to express a ship's tonnage or carrying capacity. It was based on the number of tuns of wine that a ship could carry in her holds, the total number giving her burthen.

Chase, to: to pursue a vessel in wartime with the aim of capturing, acquiring information from her, or destroying.

Colours: the name by which the national flag flown by a ship at sea is known, used to determine nationality.

Dead reckoning: a system of navigation where the position of a ship is calculated without the use of any astronomical observation whatever.

Fair wind: a wind favourable to the direction a ship is sailing.

Fathom: a measure of six feet, used to divide the lead (or sounding) lines in measuring the depth of water; and to calculate in the length of cables, rigging, etc.

Fore: the forward part.

Hail, to: to call to another ship.

Helm: the instrument by which the ship is steered, and includes both the wheel and the tiller, as one general term.

Jib: a triangular sail set by sailing ships on the boom which runs out from the bowsprit.

Jury-mast: a temporary makeshift mast erected to replace a mast that has been disabled or carried away.

Jury-rudder: a makeshift arrangement to give a ship the ability to to steer when she has lost her rudder.

Keel: the lowest and principal timber of a wooden ship - the single strongest member of the ship's frame.

Knot: the nautical measure of speed, one knot being a speed of one nautical mile (6,080 feet) per hour. As a measure of speed the term is always knots, and never knots an hour.

Landfall: the discovery of the land.

Land-locked: sheltered all round by the land, so that there is no view of the sea.

Lead: an instrument for discovering the depth of water, attached to a lead-line, which is marked at certain distances to measure the fathoms.

Lee: the side of a ship, promontory, or other object away from the wind; that side sheltered from the wind. It is the opposite side to windward.

Lee shore: a coastline on to which the wind blows directly - consequently it can be dangerous as the wind tends to force the sailing ship down on it.

Leeward: with the wind; towards the point to which the wind blows.

Letter of Marque: a commission issued in Britain by the Lord High Admiral or Commissioners of the Admiralty authorizing the commander of a privately owned ship to cruise in search of enemy merchant vessels. The letter of marque described the ship, her owners and officers, the amount of surety which had been deposited and stressed the necessity of having all prize vessels or goods seized condemned and valued at a Vice Admiralty Court for the payment of 'prize money'.

Lie-to: to prevent a vessel from making progress through the water - achieved by reducing sail in a gale. The objective is to keep the vessel in such a position, with the wind on the bow, as to ensure that heavy seas do not break aboard.

The Line (or 'Crossing the Line') Sailing across the Equator. Nautical tradition where seamen celebrate the crossing of the equator by dressing up and acting out a visit by King Neptune. Those who have not previously crossed the line are summoned to the court of Neptune for trial, followed by a ritual ducking (in a bathing tub of seawater) and sometimes lathered and roughly shaved.

Mainsail: the principal sail of a sailing vessel.

Mizzen (or mizen): the name for the third, aftermost, mast of a square-rigged sailing ship or of a three-masted schooner.

Muster: to assemble the crew of a ship on deck and call through the list of names to establish who is present and accounted for.

Muster-book: the book kept on board a vessel in which was entered the names of all men serving in the ship, with the dates of their entry and final discharge from the crew. It was the basis on which victuals were issued and payment made for services performed on board.

Pintle: a vertical metal pin attached to the leading edge of the rudder; it is fitted into the metal ring or 'gudgeon' bolted to the sternpost of a vessel. This provides the means for hinging the rudder on the sternpost and allows a rudder to be swung or turned as desired (by use of the tiller); where necessary (ie. when the rudder needs to be removed or repaired) the pintles can be unshipped quickly and the rudder detached.

Port: the left-hand side of a vessel as seen from the stern; also a harbour or haven.

Privateer: a privately owned vessel armed with guns which operated in time of war against the trading vessels of an enemy nation. Each privateer was given a a 'letter of marque' which was regarded as a commission to seize any enemy shipping as a 'prize'. The name 'privateer' has come to refer to both the ship and the men who sailed in her.

Prize: name used to describe an enemy vessel captured at sea by a ship of war or a privateer; also used to describe a contraband cargo taken from a merchant ship. A 'prize court' would then determine the validity of capture of ships and goods and authorize their disposal. 'Prize' in British naval history always acted as considerable incentive to recruitment with many men tempted to join the navy in anticipation of quick riches.

Prize Court: Captured ships were to be brought before prize courts where it was decided whether the vessel was legal prize; if so, the whole value was divided among the owners and the crew of the ship.

Prize Money: the net proceeds of the sale of enemy shipping and property captured at sea - these proceeds were distributed to the captors on a sliding scale from highest rank to lowest seaman.

Road or Roadstead: a stretch of sheltered water near land where ships may ride at anchor in all but very heavy weather; often rendered as 'roads', and does not refer to the streets of a particular port city but rather its anchorage, as in 'St Helens Roads', the designated anchorage for shipping located between St. Helens (Isle of Wight) and Portsmouth, or 'Funchal Roads' at the island of Madeira. (see Elizabeth Macquarie's 1809 Journal).

Quarter: (1)the direction from which the wind was blowing, particularly if it looked like remaining there for some time; (2)the two after parts of the ship - strictly speaking a ship's port or starbord quarter was a bearing 45° from the stern.

Ship: from the Old English scip, the generic name for sea-going vessels (as opposed to boats). Originally ships were personified as masculine but by the sixteenth century almost universally expressed as as feminine.

Shoal: a bank or reef, an area of shallow water dangerous to navigation. Sounding: the of operation of determioning the depth of the sea, and the quality of the ground, by means of a lead and line, sunk from the ship to the bottom, where some of the sediment or sand adheres to the tallow in the hollow base of the lead.

Sound: (1) to try the depth of the water; (2) a deep bay.

Sounding: ascertaining the depth of the sea by means of a lead and line, sunk from a ship to the bottom.

Soundings: those parts of the ocean not far from the shore where the depth is about 80 to 100 fathoms.

Spar: a general term for any wooden support used in the rigging of a ship - includes all masts, yards, booms, gaffs etc.

Squall: a sudden gust of wind of considerable strength.

Starboard: the right-hand side of a vessel as seen from the stern.

Stern: after-part of a ship or boat.

Tack: the nautical manouevre of bringing a sailing vessel on to another bearing by bringing the wind round the bow; during this manouevre the vessel is said to be 'coming about'.

Tide of Flood: the flow of the tidal stream as it rises from the ending of the period of slack water at low tide to the start of the period of slack water at high tide; its period is approximately six hours.

Trade Winds: steady regular winds that blow in a belt approximately 30 N. and 30 S of the equator. In the North Atlantic the trades blow consistently all year round, from the north-east; in the South Atlantic they blow from the south-east, converging just north of the equator. The meeting of the trade winds just north of the equator created the infamous 'doldrums', where sailing ships could be becalmed for days or weeks waiting for a wind to carry them back into the trades.They were known as trade winds because of their regularity, thereby assisting sailing vessels in reaching their markets to carry out trade.

Under way: the description of a ship as soon as she begins to move under canvas power after her anchor has been raised from the bottom; also written as 'under weigh.'

Voyage: a journey by sea. It usually includes the outward and homeward trips, which are called passages.

Watch: (1) one of the seven divisions of the nautical day; (2) one of two divisions of the seamen forming the ship's company.

Wear: the nautical manouevre of bringing a sailing vessel on to another tack by bringing the wind around the stern.

Weather: in a nautical sense (rather than a meteorological) this is the phrase used by seamen to describe anything that lies to windward. Consequently, a coastline that lies to windward of a ship is a weather shore; the side of a ship that faces the wind when it is under way is said to be the weather side a ship, etc.

Weigh: to haul up.

Weigh anchor: the raising of the anchor so that the ship is no longer secured to the sea or river bottom.

Windward: the weather side, or that direction from which the wind blows. It is the opposite side to leeward.

Yard: (1) a large wooden spar crossing the masts of a sailing ship horizontally or diagonally, from which a sail is set. (2) a shortened form of the word 'dockyard, in which vessels are built or repaired.

Sources: JEANS, Peter D. Ship to Shore: a dictionary of everyday words and phrases derived from the sea. Santa Barbara: ABC-Clio, 1993.

The Oxford Companion to Ships & the Sea. (ed.) Peter Kemp. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976.

[chilumi-shipper]

Not Meant for the World

Kamisato Ayato x Fem!Servant!Reader

Summary: You fell for him, he fell for you, it was the typical start of a relationship, only problem is… well, he's him and you're you. A Commissioner who holds power over the nation, and a servant that basically amounts to nothing in the whole scheme of things. It was a mutual decision to keep your relationship a secret, only to be kept within the dead of night in his bedroom, evaporating before the sun could even rise for another day. But then… Ayato seems so keen keeping it a secret forever, letting the stream of wedding proposals and love letters flood in, going through great lengths to make sure the information doesn't leak out, almost like he's ashamed of being with someone like you. You could only take so much of that.

Tags: Angst no Comfort, Hidden Relationship

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"You should probably go back to your quarters." As you were snuggled up to your lover's chest, enjoying his warmth under the covers of his bed, he spoke.

"But it's barely time." You whined, pressing your body closer to his and rubbing your face on his chest.

Back then, he would cave, he would chuckle and wrap his arms tighter around you, saying that you could stay for a little bit more and that he didn't really want you to leave anyway.

Now… he pulls away from your embrace, sighing as he looks you in the eye.

"It would be best to elliminate all the chances of us being caught, and I believe that some of the servants have been getting up early to start their shifts." He reasoned, his hold faltering as you feel his arms slip off you.

You felt a clenching pain in your chest as you slowly get up, looking around his room, you didn't want to leave, and yet when you looked at him, you felt like you were being pushed away.

"Okay… I guess I'll get going now…"

This is the part where he would usually kiss you and remind you that he loves you…

It never came…

You left his room without another word.

…

"Is it perhaps too much to visit a festival together?" You asked, not expecting a pleasurable answer from the Yashiro Commissioner sat on his office chair and drinking a cup of tea you prepared for him.

"I believe it is, being seen in public in a non-professional setting would be rather suspicious if it's just the two of us." Ayato responds firmly, oblivious to (or perhaps just ignoring) the frown that formed on your face.

"We've been out together multiple times…" You reasoned, though you sounded unsure, not wanting to sour his mood and lessen your chances of getting him to agree to your proposal. "We haven't been on a date in a while."

"The families offering up their daughters to me are very vigilant of my public movements, suspicions will arise if they were to see me with any lady for no particular reason." He did not even spare you a glance, answering swiftly as he always does.

Yet again, you fail to persuade him to be with you. You prepared to say more, but a knock came before your words.

A guest came to the estate, a father of one of the many noble ladies offering their hand in marriage.

Long story short, he's here to talk marriage business, as these fathers always do.

When the guest left for a moment, "My lord, I just need a few more minutes to talk to you." Many times, you have tried to intervene, not satisfied with how your conversation earlier abruptly ended.

"Y/N, there are matters more important than this. Wait a moment." He pays you no mind, but you have had enough. "You are being too obv-"

"Ayato, stop." You spoke firmly, freezing him in his place. "I'm still talking to you." You approached him, his back still turned to you.

Slowly, he turned around to face you, his eyes held an unfit expression for him, almost like nervousness. "Y/N, let's not do this now…"

"Do you still want to be with me?" You asked impulsively, stripping the formalities and simply talking to the man you knew as your lover. Your eyes fill with tears, looking at him being lost for words. You hoped his answer would be immediate, that he would exclaim that why would you even ask such a question.

As you stood there, "Lord Kamisato, come along, don't let the servant keep all of our time." The guest came back, standing beside Ayato, who had yet to say anything.

No words were spoken, but the Commissioner knew that right there, right in front of the unknowing guest, in your watery gaze, he had a choice to make.

"Why don't you get us some tea in the meantime?" The guest spoke up again referring to you, but you have no intention of moving until your lover finally speaks up.

With a gulp, Ayato stood his ground. "Yes, please prepare us some tea, Y/N. No more of your nonsense."

A single tear, that's what you allowed for him to see as you nodded silently. But as you prepared the tea, your vision was blurry from the neverending tears, your sobs couldn't be controlled as you struggle to catch your breath.

But you needed that, you needed that to remind yourself that you are merely a servant.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The Yashiro Commissioner sat on his bed that night, looking at the door to his room. His heart was beating fast, hoping for it to open and show the figure of his lover, though the odds are against his desires.

He hoped that maybe you'd spare him a chance, that you'd walk into the room and tell him that you'll allow him to show you how you much he truly loves you.

The door remains close. And so does his heart begin to ache. Ayato didn't sleep that night, he merely lied down and looked up at the ceiling, trying to imagine your warmth embracing him, trying to make it seem like your side of the bed wasn't left cold.

…

"My Lord…" His eyes looked up from the document he's been staring it for the past hour when he heard your voice… calling him in such a cold manner. You said nothing more, placing a tray of tea and pastries on an empty spot on his desk.

"Ahh, thank you…" Ayato looked at your face, hoping to see your usual smile whenever you served him his afternoon tea, yet your face held nothing but a blank expression. You merely bowed at him, before leaving without another word.

Your name was at the tip of his tongue, and his entire being screamed at him to just say it. He wanted desperately to call for your attention, but, though he did not want to admit it… he was scared…

You stopped in your tracks, remembering something that you had to discuss with him. Ayato, ever so perceptive of your actions, perked up.

"You have a meeting with the head of the Tenryou Commission later at noon, something about an agreement with regards to your relation with his daughter." You did not bother to face him to give him the reminder, opting to walk away once you finished your sentence.

The Yashiro Commissioner's face fell as he watched you leave the room, his heart still heavy, and his mind cursing at him for not having the guts to talk to you properly.

…

The pain felt more real once he entered his room for the night.

The place has been wiped clean of your existence, the covers have been changed so not even your scent lingered, some of the clothes you kept in his closet are gone, the vase of flowers you like to decorate his nightstand with is gone…

The framed picture of the two of you that sat on his nightstand is gone…

It felt suffocating…

With a sigh, Ayato closed the door, not wanting to see such a sad space, he instead went back to his office.

As he sat on his chair, he opened one of the drawers of his desk…

A smiled couldn't help but form on his face, a bittersweet one, when he saw the picture of you that he kept there a long time ago.

He laid his head on his arms on the desk, your picture next to his face. He figures that it was the only way he can sleep without feeling the suffocating emptiness of his room weighing upon him.

…

Today is the day the festival you were so excited about starts, and it's already been arranged for quite a while that today is your day-off. "…Y/N was really hoping that I'd join her at the festival." Half of

Thoma's words were muffled, but he could make out your name and the festival.

The blond retainer was asking for a day-off as well, to go with you.

Something uncomfortable boiled in Ayato's core, you asked him to join you back then, and he said that he couldn't. Yet, all he wishes now was to accompany you, to be by your side and not have to think about keeping your relationship a secret.

"With Y/N…?" Ayato asked, his voice laced with disappointment that did not escape his retainer's ears.

"Is something the matter, my Lord?"

Truly did his entire being want to disapprove of Thoma's request, he wants to go to you and offer to go with you himself.

"No, I'm quite alright, Thoma…" The Yashiro Commissioner heaved a sigh. "I'll allow your request."

You spent your day at the festival with Thoma, and it was obvious that you enjoyed it given the large smile that was plastered when you got back to the estate.

Meanwhile, Ayato spent his day at his desk, looking at meaningless paperwork while dreaming of being hand-in-hand with you at the festival, imagining that you would eat your heart out with all the streetfood available, watch the firework show when nighttime falls, and dance slowly at the festival music at midnight when everyone else already left.

That night though, he approaches you, his heart pounding when he caught your attention. "May I… ask you to sleep next to me again?"

He was tired, he could only take a week of sleeping in his office because his room haunted him too much. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't know how to even start explaining himself, doesn't know how to win you back, to say that he does choose you over any form of nobility that he has.

You smiled at him… emptily.

"I'm your servant, my lord. If you wish for me to, I will."

So you did, you slept next to him, he hugged you tightly, snuggling you up to his chest, yet you refused to hug back, to nuzzle in his embrace like you used to. You merely did as you were requested.

Ayato tried to ignore the tightening of his heart just before sleep and exhausted took over him.

But he couldn't ignore the chill he felt when he woke up hugging nothing. It's just as it should be, the servant listened to her lord, and now she left to do her other tasks.

It was crazy to hope a relationship like yours could work out. Kamisato Ayato felt a few tears fall from his eyes, now, he wished for you to stay.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Yo, it's 3am and I'm gonna sleep now.

[sunsburns]

not you too

pairing: jason todd x ex vigilante!reader

summary: for the first time in a long time, you're hurting, deeply. an old wound that's reopened, the knife that was once there finding its place back between your ribs. jason todd comes to you in the middle of the night, bleeding all over your floor, rubbing salt to an old wound.

word count: 3.5k+

warnings: mentions of violence, blood, angst, the good old cleaning the other's wounds after a rough patrol but this one has a little bit of plot and spice to it ngl.

based off of this request

You always try to keep your nights as simple as possible. Working under Commissioner Jim Gordon had its perks, but peace of mind wasn’t one of them. Between juggling case files, analyzing crime scenes, and trying to stay ahead of Gotham’s ever-growing list of threats, your days were more than chaotic.

Gordon, a mentor as much as a boss, trusted you with sensitive information that only a few had access to—and you took that responsibility seriously. What he didn’t know was how deep your connection to Gotham’s vigilantes truly ran.

While Gordon believed in the power of the law, you knew sometimes it wasn’t enough. That’s where Batman came in. Your dual role—an officer of the GCPD by day, and a secret informant for Batman by night—had become second nature. You fed him intel and helped him stay ahead of Gotham’s worst, all while maintaining the facade of loyalty to the department.

You weren't proud about it, but he gave you enough hush money that you don't question it whenever he appears by the office as you leave your later shifts.

Friday nights were your escape. After a week of handling reports, dissecting evidence, and sidestepping questions from Gordon about your mysterious late-night absences, you let yourself disconnect. You skipped the gym after work, came home early, and cooked yourself a proper dinner. By the time the sun set, you were showered, dressed in your comfiest pyjamas, and settled on the couch with a movie.

Tonight was no different. You’d just closed a case with Gordon’s team, a robbery ring, criminals now behind bars, but Gotham never truly rested. Tomorrow would bring another wave of crime, another set of challenges. Still, for now, you had this moment of peace.

The movie droned on in the background as you finished dinner, exhaustion from the week creeping in. Your eyes fluttered shut halfway through, the comfort of your quiet apartment lulling you to sleep. By the time the credits rolled, you were completely out, wrapped in the safety of your little corner of the world.

That is until a faint creak from your window broke the silence.

You stirred groggily, blinking at the clock. It was well past midnight. Gotham was still alive outside—sirens in the distance, the occasional rumble of a motorcycle passing by—but your apartment had fallen into stillness. You stretched, ready to drag yourself to bed, but something wasn’t right.

The creak came again. Your blood ran cold.

Someone was in your apartment.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes darted around the dimly lit room. The faint sound of creaking had stopped, leaving an eerie silence behind, but there—a shadow moved. Your heart pounded, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you reached blindly for something, anything to defend yourself. The remote was the closest thing at hand. You gripped it tightly, feeling foolish but unwilling to let go, and scrambled to stand.

In the faint glow from the streetlight filtering through the curtains, you finally saw him—a large figure by the balcony door, hunched over, struggling to quietly close the glass behind him. He moved slowly, cautiously, as if he didn’t want to be noticed. But you had already seen enough.

The silhouette was unmistakable.

“Jason.”

His shoulders stiffened at the sound of his name, freezing in place for a second before turning to face you. Even in the darkness, you could feel the weight of his gaze through the red-tinted visor of his helmet, his expression unreadable beneath it.

You lowered the remote slowly, heart still racing, but now for a different reason. “You can’t—you can’t just break in like this,” you stammered, your voice tinged with frustration and worry. You’d seen him do this too many times, yet it never got easier.

He let out a gruff, annoyed sound beneath the helmet, shoulders sagging as he took a step closer. “Not like you were gonna answer the door.” His voice was rough, and the bitterness in his tone was impossible to miss.

Your irritation flared, but then you noticed something—a slight tremor in the way he moved. His steps were sluggish, almost hesitant, and he favoured his right side, trying to mask it.

He wasn’t just annoyed.

He was hurt.

As he stepped out of the shadow, the dim lamp light caught the outline of his armour. That’s when you noticed it—dark stains creeping across the front of his suit, and the way his hand pressed against his side, the faint sound of a pained breath slipping past his otherwise guarded posture.

“You’re bleeding,” you muttered, the frustration quickly giving way to concern. He didn’t respond, his gaze avoiding yours as he leaned back against the wall, clearly uncomfortable with being here. Jason never wanted anyone to see him like this—least of all you.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up,” he grumbled, the words tinged with a mix of guilt and exasperation. “Go to bed. I’ll be out in a minute. Just needed some stuff. Still got that first aid kit?”

You shook your head, taking a cautious step closer, your heart sinking at the sight of him in pain. “Jason, you can’t just—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off sharply, pushing himself off the wall, wincing as the movement aggravated his wound. His stance was defensive like he was already preparing to run before you could offer to help.

But the moment his knees buckled slightly, the tough exterior he was trying to maintain cracked. You could see it in the way his breath hitched, the way he clutched at his side like he was barely holding it together.

He wasn’t here because he wanted to be. He was here because he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Jason pulled the mask off his head, his breath coming in sharp gasps as if the helmet had been suffocating him. He tossed it carelessly onto your dining table before glancing at you, his expression tight. “You got it or not?”

His voice startled you into action. “Uh—yeah, I’ve got it.” You scrambled down the hall toward the bathroom, hands shaking as you rifled through the drawers for the first aid kit. His footsteps echoed faintly in your living room, boots heavy against the hardwood. Now that he’d been caught, his presence filled the space in a way that made it impossible to ignore.

You tried to steady your breathing, but it was no use. No matter how many times you’d imagined running into Jason again, it was never like this. In your daydreams, you hoped you’d bump into him on the street, or maybe during work.

There were even moments where you’d foolishly fantasized about seeing him at Wayne Manor, handing over files to Bruce as a favour, only to lock eyes with Jason from across the room. But this? Jason bleeding out on your floor, breaking into your apartment in the middle of the night? This wasn’t what you wanted.

When you returned to the living room, he had already shed his jacket, revealing a deep gash along his side. It was messy, and the blood soaked into the fabric of his suit, leaving dark stains that made your stomach drop.

He’d settled into something uncomfortably familiar—boots kicked off by the door, sitting against the wall like old times, but this time he kept his distance, his body tense.

He didn’t want to be here.

You hesitated as you approached, the kit in your hand. “Jason, let me—”

“I’ve got it.” His voice was sharp, cutting you off as he took the first aid kit from your hands without so much as a glance. His glare kept you at arm’s length, and it hurt. The way he shut you out, even when he was barely holding himself together.

He didn’t trust anyone—not entirely.

Not after everything.

Still, seeing him like this made something twist in your chest. Bleeding and worn down, but too stubborn to ask for help. There was a heaviness in the air, lingering in the silence that stretched between you both. It wasn’t just about tonight—it was everything that had been left unresolved before, all the words that had gone unsaid the last time you’d seen each other. But now, with Jason sitting right in front of you, neither of you dared to speak.

You crouched a few feet away, sitting on the floor across from him, watching as he tried to clean the wound himself. His hand shook slightly, though he tried to hide it, his jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth against the pain. It was bad—worse than he was letting on.

“Jason, stop,” you finally said, your voice softer than you intended. “You’re gonna make it worse.”

“I don’t need your help,” he bit out, refusing to meet your eyes. “I’ve done this a thousand times.”

He huffed, annoyed, but when he tried to move again, his breath hitched—pain breaking through the cracks of his tough exterior. His hand slipped, and the antiseptic bottle nearly fell from his grip. You didn’t wait for his permission this time. You slid over, taking the kit from his hand.

“Just let me do it,” you murmured, your voice firmer now.

Jason didn’t argue this time, though his jaw was still set in that stubborn way you knew all too well. You could feel the heat branching off him as you gently touched his arm to move it out of the way and clean the wound. His whole body stiffened at the contact like he wasn’t used to being taken care of—or maybe he just didn’t want it.

His eyes shifted to the far wall, jaw clenched even tighter, refusing to meet your gaze, but you caught the way his breath hitched ever so slightly when your hands moved over his skin.

He wasn’t saying anything, but his body told you enough. Every time your fingers brushed a sensitive spot or when the antiseptic stung, his lips pressed into a thinner line. He didn’t flinch exactly, but his posture—rigid, unmoving—betrayed how uncomfortable he was.

You weren’t sure what was harder for him: the wound or the fact that he was letting you help. His pride had always been a barrier, a wall he rarely let anyone get through. Yet here he was, in your apartment, wounded and unwilling to admit just how much he needed you.

As Jason shifted slightly, wincing, you took the moment to observe him. It had been a while since you last saw him, and for a second, you searched for something—anything—that might’ve changed. But he was still Jason. Still, the same stubborn man who couldn’t stay out of trouble. Even that white strand of hair was right where it had always been. He looked older somehow, but not in the way time ages people. It was something deeper, worn into him from the life he led.

And then his eyes flicked up, catching you watching him. For a brief moment, neither of you moved. His gaze softened, just barely, before the guarded look returned as quickly as it had slipped away.

He shifted again, his body tense, and glanced around your apartment—anything to avoid looking directly at you. His gaze lingered on your desk, the files from your latest case scattered across it, and his expression darkened. You could see it in his eyes—a mix of suspicion and something else.

“You’ve been busy,” he muttered, his tone gruff, though the edge in his voice told you there was more to it than a simple observation.

You didn’t look up, keeping your hands steady as you applied pressure to the wound. “You know how it is.”

Jason’s jaw twitched. “Yeah,” he said, his tone sharp. “I know how it is.”

It was a jab, even if it was subtle. You could feel the accusation hanging between the lines of his words. He wasn't just talking about your busy schedule—he was digging at the gap between you two, at all the things neither of you had addressed. Your loyalty to Batman. Your work with Gordon.

A little fucking traitor to everything Jason worked for.

You sighed, pressing a little harder than necessary to make a point. “You’re not here for that, Jason.”

He winced, and you almost felt bad. Almost. But the look in his eyes—calculated, like he was searching for the truth behind every move you made—made your chest tighten. His silence was louder than anything he could’ve said.

“You’re not going to ask why I’m here?” His voice was softer now, but there was a bitterness to it. He knew you weren’t stupid. He wasn’t here by choice, and you both knew it. You wanted to ask, but what was the point? Jason never came to you for help, never came to anyone unless he had no other option.

“I figured you’d tell me when you’re ready,” you replied quietly, not daring to meet his eyes. His presence in your home felt heavier than the blood on your hands.

He scoffed, shifting to take the bandage from your hand. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Your hand stilled for a moment, hovering just above his skin. You could feel the heat radiating from him, a reminder of just how close you were to crossing a line neither of you dared to acknowledge. He was still the same Jason, still stubborn as hell, but the space between you felt like it had grown into a chasm. One you weren't sure either of you could cross without everything falling apart.

“Why are you really here, Jason?” you asked, giving in. He was a wanted man, or at least Red Hood was. If you were up to it, you could have him arrested within seconds.

His eyes snapped up, the guarded expression faltering for a moment before his usual defiance returned. “It’s not like I had a lot of options,” he admitted, though the words felt forced like he was offering you an excuse instead of the truth.

“I thought you always had a plan,” you said, words sharper than you intended. “Or is that just another thing you’ve changed your mind about?”

He flinched, and for a second, you regretted saying it. But the hurt between you two had been simmering for too long. His loyalty was always a wild card, and yours? Well, Jason had never forgiven you for staying close to the people he had walked away from.

Jason’s lips twitched, not quite a smirk, but close. “The Bat keeping you on a tight leash?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Or is it Gordon now?”

You stiffened, the accusation hitting home more than you liked. “It’s not like that,” you muttered, knowing it sounded weak but unwilling to offer more. It was always the same with Jason—he pushed, prodded, and pulled at the places you tried to protect.

“Yeah, right. Because we both know where your loyalties lie,” Jason snapped, his tone harsher now. His eyes bore into you like he was searching for something—anything—that would confirm his suspicions. That you’d chosen Batman over him. That you were still working with the people who had crossed him.

“I didn’t betray you,” you said quietly, though even as you said it, the words felt hollow. You didn’t know if you believed them anymore.

Jason let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. There was too much between you, too many things left unsaid, and no amount of stitching his wounds would ever fix that. He was right, in a way. You hadn’t chosen him—not when it counted.

Not when he needed you. And for what? For comfort? A little bit of safety? An alliance with Batman? A raise at work? The questions ran through your mind like jagged edges. It wasn’t that simple, but neither of you had ever really said the things that needed to be said back then, too busy trying to fix things that did not need fixing.

His breathing had become more laboured as you worked, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The wound you were treating was deep, and too close to critical areas for comfort.

Jason’s hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling into fists as if he was fighting the pain, refusing to show just how much it hurt. But you could see it in the way his body trembled under your touch—he was reaching his limit.

“Let me finish,” you said, your tone softer, more insistent. "Stop fighting me."

For once, he didn’t argue. His jaw unclenched, his shoulders slackened slightly, and his eyes—usually so guarded—softened just enough to show how exhausted he really was. Physically, emotionally, all of it. He wasn’t invincible, and tonight, that truth was catching up with him faster than he could hide.

You moved closer, hands brushing against his skin as you worked quickly, trying to keep your focus. His skin was warm, slick with sweat and blood, and the faintest tremor ran through his frame as your fingers traced the edge of the wound. But the closeness was unnerving—both of you acutely aware of each other in a way that made the room feel smaller.

You caught his eyes as you reached for more gauze, and for a split second, neither of you looked away. His gaze burned into you, full of unspoken questions, of things he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say. And for the first time, you wondered if you weren’t the only one who had felt betrayed.

But you’d both been wrong. You could see it now, in the way his eyes darkened with unsaid accusations, in the way your heart ached with unresolved regret. You thought you were protecting him by walking away—by choosing the safer path, Batman’s path. And Jason, with all his reckless defiance, had been too far gone in his need for vengeance to understand why you couldn’t follow him down that road.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, barely loud enough for you to hear. “I can’t trust anyone anymore.”

Your fingers stilled, hovering just above his chest. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air between you.

"I never asked you to trust me," you whispered, the words hanging precariously on the line between honesty and regret.

But the truth was, you wanted him to. More than anything.

Jason’s lips tightened into a thin line, and for a moment, you thought he might push you away. His muscles tensed beneath your touch as if bracing himself for another fight. His hand twitched, lifting halfway like he was going to shove you back, but he stopped.

The strain was written all over his face now, and you could see his breathing growing more ragged. His eyes were slipping out of focus, and you noticed the faint green glow flickering at the edges of his irises—Lazarus. It was always there, a reminder of how far he’d gone, how close to the edge he still was.

“Jason…” you said quietly, watching the pain ripple through him. He was losing consciousness, slipping into the darkness despite his stubborn refusal to admit it. His hand finally dropped, brushing against your arm before it hit the floor, the strength leaving him in waves.

“Just… get it over with,” he rasped, his voice cracking.

You pressed the final bandage into place, your hands gentle now, more careful. For a moment, you let your fingers linger, brushing against the rough skin of his shoulder as you finished. His breathing was shallow, but steady, his eyes fluttering shut. The tension drained from his body as the exhaustion finally won, leaving him vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen in a while.

It reminded you of when he used to sleep beside you. Jason had always been restless, even in sleep, twisting in the sheets, his mind never fully at ease. But there had been nights when he would finally relax, his hand instinctively reaching for yours, his head resting against your chest like he found his peace there, with you. You remembered how you’d stroke that same shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin as you whispered for him to rest, that you were there, watching over him.

And yet, here you were, caring for him again.

He stirred slightly, a soft grunt escaping his lips as he adjusted, trying to find a position that eased the pain. His face softened with the kind of weariness that came from more than just the physical strain. You watched his chest rise and fall, the quiet sound of his breath mingling with the hum of the city outside.

Jason’s hand twitched again, brushing against your knee, his fingers grazing your skin with a familiar yet distant touch. It made your heartache.

There was a time when you would’ve done anything to keep him safe, to protect him from the world—and from himself. But now, all you could do was sit there, hands still resting against his skin, wondering if either of you could ever come back from this.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Scotland Yard could be called in to investigate an alleged breach of the Princess of Wales’s private medical data.

The world-renowned London Clinic in Marylebone where the Princess of Wales underwent abdominal surgery in January, launched an investigation amid allegations staff attempted to access her private medical records.

After The Mirror’s world exclusive was picked up around the world this week, sources have said tonight that “up to three people” could be involved in the alleged accessing of Catherine’s medical records.

In a further bombshell, it can be revealed that the alleged breach took place after the future queen was discharged from hospital on January 29, as social media exploded with outlandish and hurtful conspiracy theories relating to her surgery.

Sources said the criminal investigation, described as “unprecedented” and now being run by the Information Commissioner's Office (ICO), could run alongside an additional probe by the Metropolitan Police.

Accessing someone’s medical records without cause or consent can be a criminal offence.

If the ICO investigates and finds evidence that medical records were accessed illegally, it can take action, including prosecuting and fining the person responsible in court.

The development came amid a new statement from the CEO of the The London Clinic, who said:

“There is no place at our hospital for those who intentionally breach the trust of any of our patients or colleagues.”

A source said:

“This is such a unique case that a police investigation could run alongside one by the Information Commissioner's Office.

The IOC will deal with anything as a criminal matter, which could end up in a Magistrate’s Court, but if there were further claims of wrongdoing such as a conspiracy to distribute illegally accessed information, then that could be a matter for the police.”

Scotland Yard has also been urged to launch an immediate investigation, alongside the IOC probe, over fears of a potential royal blackmail plot.

Dai Davies, the former chief superintendent and head of the royal protection unit, said:

“Anyone accused of this most serious breach of trust should be interviewed under caution at the earliest opportunity.

The implications for the royal family are far and wide, and there must be a full probe by Scotland Yard to determine if any further crimes have been committed.”

The Met Police said it had not yet received a referral, but Health Minister Maria Caulfield said today that she understood “police have been asked to look at it.”

Speaking to Sky News, she said it was "pretty serious stuff to be accessing notes that you don't have permission to."

She added:

"I say this as someone who's still on the nursing register, that the rules are very, very clear for all patients.

That unless you're looking after that patient, or they've given you their consent, you should not be looking at patients' notes.

So there are rules in place and the Information Commissioner can levy fines, that can be prosecutions, your regulator.

So as a nurse, my regulator would be the NMC (Nursing and Midwifery Council), can take enforcement action….and can strike you off the register if the breach is serious enough.

So there are particularly hefty implications if you are looking at notes for medical records that you should not be looking at."

Asked if the police should look into the matter, she said: "My understanding is that police have been asked to look at it - whether they take action is a matter for them.”

Fears that the King’s private medical information had also been compromised were dismissed tonight, after Charles spent three nights at the hospital during the same period as the Princess of Wales after undergoing an operation for an enlarged prostate.

Sources confirmed bosses at the hospital had informed Buckingham Palace that the alleged breach being probed did not involve the monarch.

Charles and Catherine were discharged separately just hours apart on January 29.

The King was subsequently diagnosed with “a form of cancer,” announced by Buckingham Palace on February 5.

Senior bosses at the hospital notified the IOC within 72 hours of the alleged breach of Kate’s records, in accordance with the watchdog’s guidelines.

Despite global speculation over the nature of the princess’s surgery, which has sparked wild conspiracy theories across social media and international news outlets, Kensington Palace has gone to great lengths to protect her privacy.

The palace said when Catherine was admitted that she would spend two weeks in hospital and not return to royal duties until after Easter as she continued her recovery at home.

Sources suggested the princess may decide to join the royal family on a scheduled walk to church on Easter Sunday, but no decision had yet been taken.

As the crisis intensified today following The Mirror’s revelations, Al Russell, the CEO at The London Clinic, added:

“Everyone at The London Clinic is acutely aware of our individual, professional, ethical and legal duties with regards to patient confidentiality.

We take enormous pride in the outstanding care and discretion we aim to deliver for all our patients that put their trust in us every day.

We have systems in place to monitor management of patient information and, in the case of any breach, all appropriate investigatory, regulatory and disciplinary steps will be taken.”

The General Medical Council (GMC), which regulates doctors, also said patients must have confidence that their personal information is protected "at all times."

A spokesman for the Prime Minister said:

“Clearly there are strict rules on patient data that must be followed. I think we all want to get behind the Princess of Wales and Prince of Wales and we wish her the speediest of recoveries.”

[zylev-blog]

Jazz is Special Agent Fenton of the FBI. She doesn’t go by Fenton when she’s out on a case though; she uses Nightingale. She does this because it keeps her identity secret.

Jazz is investigating a series of crimes. One of the other agents goes undercover to try and set them up in a sting operation. Things go south and now Jazz is going to Gotham to view the murder scene.

When she gets there, GCPD try to stop her at the crime scene barrier. She flashes her FBI jacket and her badge and is given access. She walks over to the police commissioner, a man named Gordon. Gordon obviously doesn’t recognize her, and neither does the vigilante with him—Batman.

“This is a closed crime scene, Miss…?” Gordon asks.

“Nightingale. FBI.” She shows Gordon her badge. “You and your men can clear out. This is our jurisdiction now.”

“We haven’t gotten approval to—“ Gordon stops, but was interrupted by an officer walking over to Gordon and whispering something in his ear. “Fine.” Gordon grumbled, and started telling his men to leave.

“You too, Spooky. I don’t need a vigilante’s help.” She waves off the man without another thought, but Batman doesn’t move. Instead, he completely ignores her and starts walking towards the crime scene. “Obviously, you didn’t hear me.” Jazz scowled. “If you don’t leave, I will remove you with force, Batman.”

Batman turns to look at her. “That isn’t how things work here, Agent Nightingale.”

“It is now.” She kept her expression neutral. “Clear out, or be removed. Your choice.”

Batman tried to look intimidating. Jazz refused to bow. The two stared each other down before Batman took another step towards the crime scene. She reacted instantly. Pulling out a taser, she placed it on his back before he could even react.

He reacted quickly, and sent three batarangs at her in rapid succession. His movements were a bit slower than normal after getting tased. She dodged two of the batarangs, and opted to catch the third in her hand. She flicked it away lazily and cracked her knuckles with a small smile. “I love it when they choose force.”

Batman didn’t react to her comment. He seemed to understand he wasn’t going to be able to get around her without a major fight. He let out an annoyed grunt and grappled away.

Three days later, they meet on the roof of an abandoned building. It seems like Batman was still on the case after all. Jazz was not happy about it. She felt that he was going to ruin the entire operation. She couldn’t trust someone to have her back if they didn’t show their face. She doesn’t let the annoyance show on her face as Batman joins her at the edge of the rooftop.

“I thought I told you to stay off my case, Batman.” She said quietly.

Batman gave a quiet grunt. If she had to put it to words, it would translate to a ‘I do what I want.’

She didn’t speak to him again, but she didn’t kick him out, either. The two didn’t speak a word as they sat for two hours, inspecting the warehouse across the street. It was nearly morning by the time Batman left. She did make sure he left, too—she watched him grapple down the street and heard the roar of the Batmobile pulling away before she breathed out a sigh of relief.

Watching the building was doing nothing. She was going to have to get closer. She was going to have to go undercover herself. The thought didn’t make her any happier, even with knowing what happened to the last agent that went undercover for this operation. She also knew that to keep her tracker on her at all times, she would need to shove it inside a place that nobody would look for it. And boy was that uncomfortable.

Two days after she met Batman did she meet Brucie Wayne for the first time. By now she had been undercover with the modeling agency for a day, and it was going well so far. She was playing her part perfectly, but it could take weeks for them to trust her enough to give her information that she needed to know.

She had been hired to be arm candy for a wealthy man in Gotham. It wasn’t Brucie, though she knew he had a few models on his arms as well. She had gotten through most of the night without incident before she ran into Brucie. Quite literally. Brucie’s champagne spilled down her dress, and she gave a mock scream of outrage.

Brucie tried to clean up her dress, but she swatted his hands away and went to the bathroom to clean up. She never noticed the tracker that Bruce put on the nape of her neck. When she came back out, she noticed her date looking for her. She rejoined him and the rest of the night went smoothly.

A month into the operation and she finally was getting some results. She had been moved from building to building more than once, but she finally got breadcrumbs for what she needed to take them down. It took her another three weeks after that to gather all of the evidence she needed.

At the final takedown, she was joined by none other than Batman. She had half-expected him to show up after she noticed the tracker on her neck six hours after it was placed. She didn’t know when she had even run into the Batman at a stuffy charity gala. She had debated crushing it, but she didn’t have backup and she figured his help was better than nothing. She still didn’t trust him, though. She made sure he knew that, too.

Bringing the tracker up to her lips, she whispered, “Don’t you know it’s rude to listen in on a lady, Batman?”

Together, she and Batman took down the traffickers. They had been using models and trafficking them all over the world to be used as sex slaves. She feels a certain satisfaction while watching everyone be escorted out in cuffs.

“Nice work.” Batman says, figure tall and dark.

She hums. “Thanks.” The silence stretches on for a few minutes before she adds in, “Thanks for having my back.”

“I thought you didn’t need a vigilante’s help?” Batman teased.

She didn’t look at him, but she could hear the teasing on his voice. She smirks and crosses her arms. “I don’t. But you’re harder to get rid of than a ghost in a net.”

Batman didn’t respond back to her, and it takes her a few moments to realize what she had said. She was of course, referencing her parents ghosthunting activities. But he didn’t even know her real name, so how would he even know what he was talking about?

“When do you leave?” Batman asked.

“After everything’s wrapped up. Why, you going to miss me?” She finally turned to look at him. She wished she could run facial recognition and figure out who was under that mask. The psychologist in her wanted to know just why a man would put on a bat mask and fight crime.

“I have a case that could use your input.” Batman deflected her question.

Was that a compliment from the Batman? His way of telling her that he trusted her opinion? Or was it an olive branch?

“Mine or the FBI’s?” She already knew the answer to his question, but she wanted him to say it.

Instead, he just grunted in annoyance. She rolled her eyes and pulled a card out of the pouch that she kept her FBI id at and handed it to him. “That’s my office phone number.” She tapped the card with her finger as he held it. “If you want my personal cell, you’ve got to earn it.”

He nodded and tucked the card into his utility belt. She could see the beginnings of a smile from Batman as he disappeared into the shadows and grappled away.

Surprisingly, it only took Batman a week to call her. She had gotten settled back into her office in DC, and had mostly forgotten about the encounter. She had to report Batman’s appearance in her report, but beyond that, she didn’t have to explain that he helped her take down the ring.

She made a flight back to Gotham the next day. Batman brought her into the Batcave and told her everything she needed to know about the case. She didn’t know where the Batcave was, as Batman had blindfolded her, but she was impressed with his initiative.

“Im not wearing that.” She glared at him with all of the venom she had—which was quite a lot.

“You can’t go out in your FBI jacket.” Batman deadpanned.

“Wasn’t planning on it. Do you think I’m a rookie?” She shook her head and gestured at the costume that the vigilante had made for her. “That doesn’t give you the right to—to—ugh! Im not your Batgirl, or Batwoman, or whatever! I came out as a consult. I don’t dress up in latex, and I don’t wear costumes!”

The costume itself was gorgeous, not that she’d ever tell Batman that. It was solid black, had a red bat on the front of it, and was fully equipped with a utility belt, knife holsters, and a taser. It had a full cowl like Batmans, along with the pointy ears on top.

“I don’t see the problem.” Batman’s voice had undertones of offense in it.

“Look.” She gestured at the costume. “Im honored, truly, that you want me to watch your back. But I’m not a vigilante. Nor will I ever be!”

She had watched what vigilantism had done to Danny, Sam, Tucker, and Valerie over the years. Sure, she’d gone out with them more than once. Without a mask. But there was something more complex about the costume sitting on the table in front of her.

“You said you were going to help.” Batman’s gruff voice got closer as he took a few steps towards her.

“And I did.” She gestured to the Batcomputer. “I already gave you my opinions of the case. I dedicated a weekend of PTO time to be here. But this is as far as my help goes.”

“What about the last operation? You owe me.”

“Owe you?!” She exclaimed, thumping her finger against his chest. “I told you to get lost. You still stuck around. You could’ve cost me the operation!”

“It worked.”

She groaned in frustration. She was close enough to him now that she could smell the faint smell of Kevlar and aftershave from him. She rubbed a hand down her face as she thought over what had happened last time she was in Gotham.

“What about all your other winged vigilantes? You had uh.. Nightwing, and Robin, right?”

“It’s only Nightwing.” Batman responded. “He’s unavailable.”

“I could’ve sworn you had a Robin, too.” She looked up at him and noticed the stiffness of his body.

“Robin has moved on.” Batman replied.

Hmm. Touchy subject. She wasn’t going to push. It wasn’t any of her buisness.

“You must be really desperate if you’re trying this hard to get me to go out in that.” She smirked.

“Things could go wrong.” Batman said with a quiet sigh.

“Don’t they always?” She tilted her head.

“Not always.” Batman mimicked her actions, clearly studying her. “What will it take?”

“If I put that mask on,” She gestured to the table behind her, “You take yours off.”

“No.”

“Fine. Deals off, then.” She pulled her phone out and immediately started looking for flights back to DC.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I can’t trust someone who won’t tell me who they are.” She shrugged.

Batman let out a quiet growl. As he took his cowl off, he scowled. “You would know, wouldn’t you, Miss Fenton?”

“Holy shit.” Her eyes got wide.

Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

The federal privacy watchdog says Canada Post is breaking the law by gleaning information from the outsides of envelopes and packages to help build marketing lists that it rents to businesses.

The office of privacy commissioner Philippe Dufresne says information collected for the marketing program includes data about where individuals live and what type of online shopping they do, based on who sends them packages.

The commissioner found Canada Post had not obtained authorization from individuals to indirectly collect such personal information.

Full article

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 16]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.3K

"(y/n)!!!" Hongjoong heard Wooyoung's excited footsteps as he ran past the captain's office, heading down to supposedly greet you. He hadn't spoken to you since that day at the tracks and right now, he didn't really know what to say to you so maybe it was best he avoid you today again.

"I'm always apologising to her." He grumbled and slapped his forehead with a shake of his head as he typed on his keyboard.

"Good morning." You greeted an excited Wooyoung, who threw his arms around you. Luckily the driver was carrying your fragile things for you or you would have dropped it.

"Seonghwa, I made more kombucha for you. Sweetened with local honey and flavoured with hibiscus." You informed.

"Thank you, (y/n). I'm excited to see how this compares to the pineapple one you brought last time." He smiled, watching you.

"They're in here." You dug through the bag the driver was carrying for you and took out two big glass bottles. Seonghwa received them gratefully and brought them to the kitchen.

"Any goodies for me?" Wooyoung tilted his head.

"Sorry, Wooyoung." You rubbed the back of your neck. San shook his head and slapped the back of his best friend's head.

"He doesn't mean it. We'll let you get to work, (y/n)." San tugged Wooyoung away while you bowed and went to the garden. There was no sight of Hongjoong yet.

While you were starting your work, you didn't know that Hongjoong was looking at you from his office window. Luckily you never thought to look at the windows facing the garden or you would have seen him there in his office.

"Not gonna say hi?" Seonghwa asked, sipping some kombucha in his glass. Hongjoong shot him a flat look.

"Every conversation I've had with her always started with an apology from me." Hongjoong sighed as he reviewed the papers that Seonghwa just brought to him.

"I'm surprised you're the one sitting here while I'm the one working." Hongjoong scoffed.

"I just had to greet (y/n) first." Seonghwa shook his glass.

"Yeah, I know where your priorities lie, Hwa." Hongjoong rolled his eyes. Seonghwa was mentally snickering at Hongjoong's subtle sulking behaviour.

"She'll be here the whole day. Maybe go say hi to her just once while you're here." Seonghwa suggested and got up to leave.

"Hyung, we have a suspicious tailing." Yunho came to get the two oldest members.

"Where? Show us." Hongjoong frowned. Yunho handed the iPad to Hongjoong and Seonghwa that was mirroring the feed that Jongho was watching in their computer lair downstairs. There was a car that was tailing the police commissioner's car, keeping his distance but definitely following him.

"Contact the driver now. They need to stay calm and do things as per normal until we find out more of who is tailing them." Hongjoong said as the 3 of them headed down to the computer room.

"I've run the plates. Of course they're stolen but I'm trying to run traffic cams to see other possible sightings." Jongho informed.

"I'll let the commissioner know." Seonghwa took his phone out.

"Text him, don't call him. At this point, we have to assume the car is bugged." Yunho said, having just informed the commissioner's driver of what to do.

"Damn, I have my meeting." Hongjoong cursed as his phone beeped with a reminder for him.

"I can go." Seonghwa volunteered.

"No, I should go. Those rich brats have been causing too much trouble outside their parents' country club premises. I need compensation today." Hongjoong sighed.

"Hyung?" Yeosang poked his head into the computer cave, looking for Hongjoong. The captain nodded and held a hand up to wait.

"See how long the driver can drive without causing suspicion. Get Mingi to go deal with the stalkers." Hongjoong ordered those in the room before leaving the room. He went up to change into a nicer suit and grabbed his coat.

"Let's go, Yeosang." Hongjoong said, coming downstairs. As they were going to head to the basement carpark, he caught a glimpse of you working in the garden.

"Hyung? Is everything okay?" Yeosang tilted his head. Hongjoong chewed on his bottom lip.

"Yeah, come on." He nodded and went downstairs with the younger male. Since he couldn't drive yet, Yeosang was the driver.

"Mingi ah, you got the license plate?" Yunho spoke to his best friend on the phone since Mingi was out and in the area, able to go see the car that was following the commissioner's car.

"On it."

Mingi said from his end and those in the computer room could hear the revving of his engine as he sped.

"Don't confront the car yet, Mingi ah. The commissioner will be heading home now and they will follow but we believe they won't do anything. Only after he leaves, take him." Seonghwa instructed.

"Yes, hyung. I'm on it. I need eyes, there are too many cars on the street now."

"You're on the right road, Mingi hyung. You'll be taking the second exit coming up. Head in the direction of the commissioner's house, we have told the driver and the commissioner to head home. At least it is guarded there. The car will either follow them or split when they realise he's going home." Jongho said.

"Got it... Okay, I see the car. You're right, they're splitting up since they know there's a police car parked in front of the house. I'm going after them now."

With that, Mingi hung up the call. Seonghwa left Yunho and Jongho to get updates from Mingi since he had a meeting to get to too.

"Oh, Seonghwa." You bumped into him as you were coming out of the restroom.

"I'm heading out for a meeting. If you need anything, let the others know or the staff." Seonghwa smiled and you nodded your head with a slight bow as he walked to the main door.

'I temporarily forgot (y/n) was in the house. Despite all the issues coming up, let's remember to please be discreet. - Seonghwa'

Hongjoong glanced over at the message that was sent by Seonghwa and put his phone back down.

"We're very sorry, Mr Kim and Mr Kang. Please accept our apologies, our children will be disciplined." The 4 sets of parents bowed to Hongjoong and Yeosang, who remained seated with stoic expressions on their faces.

"Not good enough." Yeosang said.

"We'll pay for all the damages and more. Whatever amount you want." One of the fathers spoke up.

"You think we want money? Do I look like I need more money?" Hongjoong spoke calmly, raising an eyebrow. Yeosang merely tilted his head as he met the scared faces of the parents.

"It's sad that our generosity, letting you build your private country club here, is repaid as such." Hongjoong let out a sigh.

"We're sorry, Mr Kim." The parents all kneeled on the ground with full bows.

"The company stakes." One of the mothers gasped.

"That's more like it. Come, let's talk business." Hongjoong smirked. The two were pleased, that was what they came for. They didn't need money but company stakes gave them power.

"Please understand, we cannot make all these decisions on our own. There's still the board of directors and-"

SLAM!

Yeosang stood up, slamming his palms on the table, making the other people in the room, except Hongjoong, jump in fear. He was someone with a 'pretty' face and calm demeanour but he could be fierce and he was one of the strongest in the group, alongside Jongho and San.

"Are you giving us excuses? Would you prefer to say goodbye to one of your kids?" Hongjoong offered.

"No, please." The mothers begged for their children's lives. There was no sympathy here, these were rich children that abused their power and broke the rules.

"Go ahead, we'll give you one more chance to make an offer worthy of our time." Hongjoong smirked, gesturing to himself and Yeosang.

"Hey, (y/n)." You turned around to see Jongho standing there with a big tiered lunch box.

"Hey, Jongho. What's that?" You stood up.

"Lunch. Would you like to have lunch outside with me?" He asked. You blinked, not really expecting him to ask you that. You checked your watch, not realising it was already past noon.

"Sure." You smiled. The two of you sat in the gazebo. Jongho handed you a wet tissue to wipe your hands as he laid out the food.

"Wow, this is a lot of food." You chuckled, seeing all the food nicely arranged in the boxes.

"Hope you're hungry then." Jongho said with a smile, handing you a pair of chopsticks. It was nice and peaceful to sit with Jongho to each outside. What you didn't know was that Jongho was sent to distract you as Mingi dragged a beaten up body to the basement.

"So, have you been busy at the shop?" Jongho asked as he chewed. From the corner of his eye, he could see San helping Mingi drag the person across the main foyer.

"It's alright. Of course not as busy as holidays like Valentine's or Christmas. But I have some events coming up." You shrugged.

"You do event arrangements too?" Jongho tilted his head.

"I... try... I'm content with what I do, not like I'm looking for much publicity. But it's nice to change things up a little. Arrangements for events are so different." You chuckled.

"Take the chance to learn something new?" Jongho asked, he was now aware of your open mindedness to things.

"Yes." You giggled, taking a bite of the beef sushi that tasted absolutely delicious.

"So, tell me about your new big project then?" Jongho probed, resting his head on his hand, showing you interest. As you opened your mouth to say something, two voices emerged.

"Oh, Yunho, Wooyoung." You blinked as Yunho slid beside you and Wooyoung slid beside Jongho, taking the chopsticks out of the youngest's hands. Jongho clicked his tongue with much annoyance and slapped the back of Wooyoung's neck. But the older didn't care and started eating.

"Are you hungry, Yunho?" You asked the tall male beside you.

"No thanks, I just ate. Just came out for some fresh air. But please, continue your conversation." He chuckled, leaning against the back of the bench.

"I was just asking (y/n) here, about her new upcoming project as she branches into event arrangements." Jongho explained.

"Give me that." He snatched his chopsticks back from Wooyoung, who pouted as he chewed.

"It's nothing much, really. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if the whole thing is a scam. But it seems like a big event, a gala of some sorts." You explained to them.

"These are the designs." You pulled up what you sent to the organiser and showed it to them on the phone.

"Wow, they're really nice! Pretty." Wooyoung complimented.

"Thank you, it's not much but I'm still learning. I'm glad the organiser approved of them. And I have my friends helping me make the different flower arrangements for the event." You informed.

"Have you ever thought to hire any help? Like a shop assistant?" Yunho asked.

"I did think about it but I don't think I would make a good boss. Managing myself has always been easy but managing someone else, being responsible for them and their pay. And there's no fixed schedule with how I work." You said.

"Nonsense, you'd make a great boss!" Wooyoung insisted.

"Maybe in the future, I'll think about it. Right now, I like my space and schedule of working and studying botany." You laughed. The three nodded, understanding where you are coming from.

"Hey, (y/n). Sorry for interrupting your conversation but guys, Hongjoong hyung needs us for a meeting." Yeosang said.

"We'll continue this." Jongho smiled as he packed up the boxes with the help of the others.

"No worries, I-I should get back to work too." You forced a smile, feeling a little weird at the mention of Hongjoong's name. So he wasn't out, he was home and probably avoiding you.

"Have a great meeting." You wished them as they waved and headed back into the house while you continued your work.

"Things are finally starting to look right." You smiled, proud of yourself as you dusted your hands.

"Hi." You jumped when Mingi's face appeared in front of yours with a cheeky grin. Being so tall, he had to lean down quite a bit in order to get to your crouched height.

"Mingi, you scared me." You placed a hand over your heart.

"Sorry! I was just curious to see what you were doing." He chuckled. On the outside, Mingi was someone that looked fierce, charismatic and confident. Frankly, all 8 of the boys were. But you have also come to learn that he was rather clumsy and scared of a lot of things, he acted like a princess sometimes.

"I finally finished repotting the plants so this is it. Everything is in the right place and should grow a lot better." You explained to him. He nodded his head, listening intently.

"Did you forget that spot then?" He tilted his head, pointing to the empty plant box on the right.

"No, I didn't. There are actually seeds there that are planted and going to grow so it's not empty like it looks." You giggled.

"Do you want to help me put the signs in?" You offered. He nodded like an excited child as you handed him a little signs that you made at home to mark the soil.

"There." You guided him on where to stick the signs into the dirt.

"Ooh, cucumbers. Wooyoung hates cucumbers." Mingi said as he read one of the signs.

"Here. You can water them too. Just go across the bed." You handed him the hose. But of course, Mingi underestimated the strength of the hose and water went everywhere.

"Mingi!" You squealed and he dropped the hose in shock, resulting in himself getting soaked too. You reached over to turn the hose off.

"Is everything okay?!" Having heard your scream, everyone else came running out, seeing you and Mingi there, drenched from head to toe. Meeting Hongjoong's worried gaze, you cleared your throat and looked away.

"Mingi ah, what did you do?" Yunho facepalmed.

"Why did you assume it was me?" Mingi asked his best friend, a betrayed look on his face.

"Because it obviously couldn't have been (y/n). You're the bumbling fool in this scenarios." Seonghwa crossed his arms, making Mingi scoff. San came over to you, draping his jacket over your shoulders.

"Thanks, San." You smiled gratefully, feeling yourself start to shiver as the cold wind blew against your drenched body.

"You should take a shower and change into some new clothes, (y/n). You'll fall ill." Yeosang said.

"I-I don't have extra clothes." You laughed awkwardly.

"It's fine, we'll find something for you. Come, let's get you out of the cold and into a nice, warm shower." Wooyoung wrapped his arm around your shoulder and led you into the house.

"Wow! Thanks for showing me concern too!" Mingi yelled as all 7 of his brothers walked into the house with you.

"Come upstairs. You can use my bathroom, it's the neatest." Seonhgwa said, much to the protest of the others there. Except Hongjoong, who stayed back and just watched. He was worried that you were hurt or would get sick but couldn't find it in him to say anything or voice any concern.

"It's okay, I'll use the bathroom downstairs." You shook your head.

"Nonsense. Go shower and we'll find you some clothes." Seonghwa led you upstairs to his room. It was such a neat and elegant space, much like how Seonghwa was as a person.

"Sorry for what Mingi did and interrupting your work." He asked as you were going to enter the bathroom.

"No need to apologise, all in good fun." You smiled softly and closed the door behind you.

It was a grand, luxurious bathroom. You removed your wet clothes and placed them in the sink, not wanting to create a puddle on the ground. But you placed your underwear on the towel warmer.

"Oh my..." You stared at the expensive soap brands that lined the shelf in Seonghwa's shower stall.

Taking a deep breath, you just took a shower like normal, following the labels on the bottles. You grabbed a spare towel from the shelf.

"I smell like Seonghwa." You chuckled as you wrapped the towel around your body and stepped out. Thankfully, there was no one in the room but you noticed an outfit laid out on the bed and the towel warmer dried your underwear.

"(y/n)!" Mingi came barrelling down the hall the moment you stepped out of Seonghwa's room. You blinked in shock, taking a small step back just in case he crashes into you.

"I am soooooo sorry!" He bowed and apologised repeatedly.

"It's okay, Mingi. It was an accident, I'm not hurt or anything. Don't worry." You patted his arm.

"So, we cool?" He winced as he held his fist out. You laughed and nodded, bumping your fist against his.

"(y/n), hand the maid your clothes. We'll wash it and dry it." Seonghwa said, coming up the stairs with a maid following behind him. You walked into the room, remembering your clothes in the sink.

"You don't have to. You can just put it in a bag and I'll bring it home to wash." You waved them off.

"No, we insist." Seonghwa nodded to the sink. The maid bowed and retrieved your clothes, disappearing before you could protest.

"Anyway, thanks for letting me use your bathroom, Seonghwa. And where ever you got these clothes." You giggled, holding the ends of the shirt that was way too big it extended past your thighs. The pants were also too big but luckily you could pull the drawstrings tight to tie a knot to help the pants stay up.

"No need to thank me just because you used my bathroom, (y/n). It's alright." Seonghwa laughed while you rubbed the back of your neck in slight embarrassment.

"Ah, I'm just wondering how to work now. I don't want to dirty these clothes." You sighed.

"If there's no rush, you can just do it next time, (y/n). Or if you want to work, I'm sure Hongjoong won't mind." Seonghwa said.

"Oh... These are Hongjoong's..." You said slowly in realisation. Seonghwa nodded with a hum. He opened his mouth to say something until his phone rang in his pocket.

"Excuse me." He held a finger up and stepped aside to answer the phone.

"Miss, have some tea." The butler came over with a friendly smile, placing a cup of tea on the coffee table.

"Thanks..." You sat on the couch, alone in the living room. Now knowing who the clothes belonged to, you noticed how much they smell like Hongjoong.

"(y/n). Are you alright?" Speak of the devil, Hongjoong stood there. He cleared his throat as you put the tea cup down and stood up. For some reason, you felt so small under his gaze even though you had nothing to feel guilty about.

"Thanks for lending me your clothes, I'll wash them and return them as soon as my clothes are dry." You bowed to thank him.

"It's fine, (y/n). There's no rush for the clothes. Don't worry about it." He shook his head.

"If that's all, maybe I shouldn't take up more of your time." You forced a smile. It was starting to get awkward and you wanted to get away from this.

"No, wait. You're not... Can we talk? ...Please." Hongjoong asked.

~

Series masterlist

[saywhat-politics]

WASHINGTON (AP) — In an effort to limit fraudulent claims, the Social Security Administration will impose tighter identity-proofing measures — which will require millions of recipients and applicants to visit agency field offices rather than interact with the agency over the phone.

Beginning March 31st, people will no longer be able to verify their identity to the SSA over the phone and those who cannot properly verify their identity over the agency’s “my Social Security” online service, will be required to visit an agency field office in person to complete the verification process, agency leadership told reporters Tuesday.

An internal Social Security Administration (SSA) memo, sent on March 13 and obtained by Popular Information, details proposed changes to the claims process that would debilitate the agency, cause significant processing delays, and prevent many Americans from applying for or receiving benefits.

The memo, authored by Acting Deputy SSA Commissioner Doris Diaz, purports to be motivated by a desire to mitigate "fraud risks."

[ollyissleepy]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

pairings: platonic yandere!batfam x uninterested!male!reader summary: After being caught red handed stealing, (name) finds himself in the Wayne Manor, surrounded by his new family. (Name)'s disinterested in bonding is met with equally not caring siblings and father. As he spends his days alone, (name) realises his new family might care much more than he originally thought the did. cw: stealing, swearing, a/n: there isn't really anything triggering in this part yet, but I want to start warning from the beginning since it will turn dark in next parts based on this idea I had

m.list • part: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

Commissioner Gordon makes another lap around the interrogation room, trying to think of something that would make his detainee finally talk. He looks back at the teenager. Gordon knows he can't keep the boy there for long as he's still underage. The commissioner is used to the teenagers that were caught giving out any needed information easily, most too scared of the possible consequences they might be facing. The teenage boy who was brought in today seemed like a hard one to crack, with a few police officers giving up on trying after the first hour of the boy being there. Usually Gordon would send for yet another officer to try to rip out any information, but after hearing one of them suggest to just let the teenager go with a warning that next time he would be caught, it wouldn't be so nice. The commissioner couldn't just allow them to release the boy, knowing that he matches the description of a thief who was roaming around the area and also finding multiple stolen items in the boy's possession.

It had been an hour since Gordon came in the interrogation room, thinking it would be a quick task. He thought that the years of experience he had would make gathering information about teenagers' parents an easy job. As it turns out, Commissioner Gordon couldn't be more wrong.

"Listen, we not only caught you stealing but also in possession of stolen goods." The commissioner states, pretending to read over the files other officers filled in on the boy. "If you tell us a way to contact your parents, I'm sure we could sort this out without a big punishment." He looks up at the teenager, making sure his voice sounds as sincere as he can muster it to be.

Gordon watches the teenager carefully, waiting for the smallest of changes. Nothing happens. The teenager's expression remains stoic; not a single muscle moved at the mention of his parents. The boy's sight never leaves the one stop he picked at the table, his eyes remaining locked there, even when Gordon first came inside the room.

"Kid, I understand that you might be scared, but I promise you that I'll talk to your parents and explain everything to them." Gordon chooses his words carefully, using every trick he learnt over his years as a commissioner, hoping to gain a grain of trust from the boy.

"I don't have parents," the boy responds after a while, his eyes never meeting the commissioner's.

Gordon is taken aback by the teenager's statement. For a moment he thinks that he might be crossing a line, his mind wondering if the boy might truly not have any alive parents. But then, he takes another look at the teenager, who didn't even move any unnecessary muscles, apart from the ones needed for speaking. Something about his stoic face made Gordon believe that the boy was simply hiding the identities of his guardians. The commissioner sighs, trying to think of a different approach, something to make the boy talk. He decides to sit across from the teenager, grabbing his case file.

"Let's start with something easier then." Gordon reads through the little information previous officers managed to gather on the boy, picking something he believes would be easy to give out. "Why don't you tell me your name, just your first name? That's all I want."

The teenager stays quiet for a while, making Gordon think he chose the wrong way to go about it. Just when the commissioner was about to ask a different question, the boy looked up from the table to stare directly into Gordon's eyes. Both of them hold eye contact for a while before the boy speaks up, catching the commissioner off guard:

"(Name)." The teenager's voice was barely audible in the quiet interrogation room.

"What was that?" Gordon leaned forward, straining to hear.

"I'm (Name)." The boy repeated louder, finally looking up from the steel table to meet Gordon's eyes.

"Alright, (Name)." Gordon wrote the name in his file, the scratch of his pen unnaturally loud. "And how old are you?"

"Seventeen."

The commissioner nodded, filling in another blank. His shoulders relaxed slightly – finally making progress. "And your parents' names?"

"I don't have any." (Name)’s expression didn’t change.

"Don't make me bring out the big guns, kid." Gordon's pen stopped mid-word.

"I'm not lying." The boy's voice stayed flat. "I don't have parents."

"Listen, everybody has parents." Irritation crept into Gordon's tone.

"Well, I don't." The teenager shrugged, his face unreadable. "Not as far as I know, anyway."

The boy's response made Gordon realise he might be talking to a kid that was either thrown out of their house recently or an orphan. He looks over the file, trying to think of how to learn the kid's parent's current status. He knows that without that knowledge, his hands are practically tied.

"I warned you, kid," Gordon's voice deepened, his eyes filled with irritation.

Commissioner Gordon doesn't wait for (name) to reply; he stands up, leaving the room. The man's leave brought confusion to the teenager. Just as the boy started standing up to look for a way to escape the interrogation room, the door opened. Gordon came inside with two more people trailing behind him, one of them carrying a briefcase.

"I'm afraid you left us with no other choice," Gordon states, his tone stripped of any emotion. Every person in the room can tell he's tired of this situation. "We're going to have to run a DNA test to determine your parents whereabouts. You'll also be staying in here until that's figured out."

None of the adults in the room wait for the boy to respond, as they begin to set up everything for his DNA sample. He doesn't protest, already knowing where his parents were. Or at least where his mother was, as he never really met his father. (Name) highly doubted they would be able to contact his father, and he could use not having to worry about food and water for the next few days. He's planning to enjoy the luxury of the amenities a cell in the police station offers. After the test results return, he'll make sure to escape before they manage to do anything about them.

Gordon is amazed about the lack of fight from the boy, watching him politely open his mouth so the officers could take the sample. The commissioner starts to wonder where this energy was when the teenager was asked questions.

When the officers were securing the sample, Gordon brought (name) to one of the cells. He decides to put the boy into the only single cell they have, not wanting him to be stuck in a small space with dangerous adults. The commissioner makes sure to go over the rules and the time dinner is brought as he uncuffs the boy. He lingers around the cell, a part of him hoping that (name) might say something, only to be met with silence. Gordon sighs before returning to his office, leaving the teenager alone.

A few days later (name) finds himself standing on his tippytoes, trying to see if he could remove the bars from the window, when two voices from outside his cell catch his attention. He recognises one of them as Commissioner Gordons. The boy thinks the unknown one must belong to a recently caught criminal or somebody's bail. As he hears them approaching, he quickly moves away, not wanting to be caught planning out his escape. The teenager sits down on his bed, finding an interesting crack in the wall to stare at.

"That's him?" The man dressed in a suit asks, his eyes brushing over the boy in the cell. Gordon confirms, also staring at the boy, trying to think of a way to tell him who the man is.

"(Name), we have found your father." Gordon doesn't want to beat around the bush, knowing the boy long enough to know it wouldn't work on him. "I want you to meet Bruce Wayne."

The teenager looks at the man the commissioner introduced as his father, judging the way he presents himself. Seeing the man dressed in a fancy suit, looking as if he owns the place. It's making (name) regret not begging the police officers to just put him through trial like an adult. Perhaps then he wouldn't have to meet his 'father' that looks like he has a stick so far up his ass it might burst through his mouth at any moment.

Bruce, after noticing the boy staring at him, also takes a moment to take in the way his supposed son looks like. The man sees the way (name)'s eyes move from one part of his body to the other. Bruce studies the teenager's face, the clothes he has on his back, and the way the boy is sitting on the bed. The more Bruce is staring at the teenager, the more similarities he finds in (name).

"It's nice to meet you." Bruce's voice is much lower than the boy thought it would be. He wasn't sure how to feel about the man that's supposed to be his father.

The teenager doesn't reply; if it weren't for the rises and falls of his form as the boy is breathing, Bruce might just mistake him for a statue. The two of them continue staring at each other before Commissioner Gordon grabs Bruce's attention. He explains to the man how (name) seems to only respond when he deems it necessary. Bruce nods, asking about the papers he might need to file to get the boy out of the cell. The commissioner asks the man to follow him, and both of them leave, not looking back at the teenager in the cell.

(Name) isn't left there for too long; he doesn't even have much time to process what just happened. Next thing he knows, some officer is opening his cell, asking him to come out. The teenager follows the officer, making sure to look out for any possible runaway route. The wonder in his eyes around the space the boy is in doesn't go unnoticed by Bruce.

"You're going to behave as we walk into the car; no running away." Bruce makes sure his is only heard by the boy in front of him; he doesn't have time for games. "If you pull something like that, I'll send you straight back into that cell."

When no response falls out of the teenager's mouth, Bruce turns around and starts walking out of the police station with the boy quietly following him behind. The police officers, who had the pleasure of meeting the kid on his first day there, fully expected (name) to put up a fight or maybe even run away. When neither of those things happen, they're shocked but glad they didn't have to run after a runaway kid.

The walk to Bruce's car isn't long, as the man parked right in front of the building. Bruce gestures for the boy to get inside as he walks to the other side of the car. (Name) decides to sit in the backseat, hoping to create as much space between himself and the stranger as it was possible. The soft humming of the car relaxes the boy a bit, but not enough to put his guard down.

As Bruce drives a familiar route through the city, it hits him that he hasn't heard his son's voice even once since he met the boy. He sees the opportunity for a conversation when the car is forced to stop at a red light. Bruce uses the rearview mirror to check on (name) in the backseat. He notices the way the teenager is sitting, staring out the window. Bruce studies the boy's expression, the way his eyes are watching something outside in melancholy. He tries to think of something to say, anything that would make the teenage boy finally answer him.

"I heard about your mother; sorry you had to go through that alone," Bruce says, his voice as soft as he could make it be.

The teenager's only response is a small shrug of his shoulders, his eyes never leaving the window. Bruce fights the urge to roll his eyes. He knows what (name) must be feeling; Gordon told him that the boy probably lost his mother recently. He, however, believes that the loss of a parent doesn't excuse the teenager from acting like a brat.

The rest of the ride is quiet, neither of the people inside the car wanting to speak up. Bruce gave up on further bonding with the child, fully labelling him as entitled and deciding that if (name) wants to act like a brat, then he will be treated like one too.

Bruce pulls up into the driveway; he spares another glance at the boy in the backseat before telling him to get out of the car. He exits as well and starts walking up to the front door with teenagers silent footsteps following behind. Both of them barely making it to the door when a man with grey hair, dressed in a butler's clothes, opens them.

(Name) unsurely steps inside the manor as every fibre of his body is screaming how he doesn't belong in there. As they step in further into the space, the boy takes a moment to look around, making a note to check for every possible escape route, just in case. (Name) is so focused on analysing the room he's in that he doesn't notice that his 'father' began walking up the stairs, clearly no longer interested in the teenager. Only Bruce's voice snaps the boy out of the trance:

"Alfred, please show the boy his room" is the last thing Bruce says before retreating upstairs.

The butler nods at his 'father's' request, asking the boy to follow him. In an instinct, he moves to grab whatever the bag the child may have, only to notice that (name) doesn't have anything with him other than the clothes on his back. Alfred makes a note to ask other boys in the manor to borrow some of their unused clothes for their new brother to wear.

As the two of them make their way into the boy's new room, (name) once again becomes extremely wary of his surroundings. He makes sure to remember how many doors they have passed. The teenager can't help but wonder at how effective the huge windows in the hall would be as an escape route. (Name) quickly gets rid of this idea, knowing that the windows in his new room would be a thousand times better for that.

"And here's your room…" Alfred begins his sentence as he opens one of the doors far into the hall. "My apologies, young master, I'm afraid I haven't caught your name."

"Alfred, right?" The boy asks, unsure if he remembered correctly what Bruce had referred to the older man as. The butler nods, smiling softly. "I'm (name), just (name). Please, don't refer to me as 'young master'; it would mean a lot."

"Of course, (name). I would keep it in mind," Alfred replied, causing the boy to smile ever so slightly. "I shall leave you to get comfortable and check if anyone is willing to borrow their clothes," he adds as he steps closer to the door, getting ready to leave.

"Please, don't." The boy's voice stops Alfred in his tracks, making him turn around. "I would rather wear my own."

"I must insist." Alfred wants to reason with the boy, noticing the grime on the boy's clothes.

"It's fine, really," (name) reassures, forcing himself to form a small smile, hoping the butler would just give in. "I could go back home to grab them tomorrow or something."

"Then I shall accompany you," Alrder declares, his back straightening slightly, showing the teenager that he won't back down.

"I could go by myself," the boy said, the last thing he wanted was to bring anyone from his family to his home. His real home.

"I'm more than happy to help you with the move, (name)." Alfred smiles, wanting to reassure the boy that he doesn't mean any harm. (Name) sighs in defeat.

"Alright, if you say so," the boy mumbles, his shoulders slouching. He's not sure how much longer he'll be able to put up with all of that, being way too used to being alone.

Alfred leaves, letting the boy know that someone would come and bring him over to the dining room for dinner. Once (name) is sure that nobody will be barging into the room anytime soon, he looks over the entire room. He makes sure to check every piece of furniture, every drawer, for anything that he could use in case he had to protect himself. Upon not finding anything useful, he gave up, hoping that his fists would be enough in case of an emergency.

Since the boy didn't find anything in the room, he moves over to the bathroom, wanting to clean himself up. He couldn't really do that at the police station. In the room he finds small versions of everyday products like some shower gel, some toothpaste and more. The teenager now knows that he must be in one of the guest bedrooms in the manor. That thought made him feel a little better. Being in the guest bedroom means he probably wouldn't be staying there for too long.

Feeling freshened up, as much as he could be due to the clothes he was forced to wear for the past few days, he decided to rest on the bed. (Name) already had a chance at feeling how comfortable it was when he was checking the room. He decided to lie down for just a minute, not wanting to put his guard down too much. The warmth of the bed successfully distracts the boy from all of his fears, pulling him into a slumber.

It wasn't till a few hours later that a knock on the door pulled (name) out of his sleep. The boy shoots up, not wanting to be caught vulnerable. He shifted his position into one he could easily take down the attacker. When the doors finally open, just to reveal that Alfred was behind them, (name) relaxes. He knows the man won't be much of a threat.

"I left Master Damian in charge of calling you over for dinner; it seems as if he forgot," Alfred explains, his face stoic. "I have brought you something." He puts the plate he was holding onto the desk, the aroma of the food slowly filling up the room.

"That's alright, Alfred," the boy said, his eyes not leaving the food the butler just brought. "I wasn't that hungry anyway," he lies; he might be hungry, but he's not hungry enough to risk getting poisoned.

"Please, eat up." Alfred encourages the boy, noticing the hunger in his eyes. "I'll make sure that your absence won't be overlooked by the family anymore."

With his declaration, Alfred leaves. (Name) once again is left alone in the room. He stares at the food the butler has brought, unsure if he should eat it or not, still not trusting anyone in the house. The smell of the food, however, made the boy give in. He grabs the food from the desk, slowly munching on it, still sitting on the bed.

As (name) eats the food prepared by Alfred, he tries to think about his next step. He hoped that the butler would allow him to collect his things by himself, giving him a way of fleeing without much work. But with Alfred's desire to help him out, that plan is now out of the window. The boy knows he has to come up with something fast, not wanting to stay in the manor for longer than necessary. That, however, would have to be done another time. The teenager's only focus for now would be to retreat all of his belongings from his real home to here. His great escape plan has to wait until then.

m.list • part: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight