#when Tim almost fell off the stage

[havithreatendub4]

#Dark Shadows #premiere #Tokyo Japan #May 13, 2012 #Tim Burton #falling #Jerry Judge

[callsigns-haze]

Unexpected twist

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Reader

Chapter Summary: Tim and Y/N's first date at a fancy restaurant is interrupted by a robbery, turning a romantic evening into a spontaneous takedown and leaving their relationship exposed to their curious colleagues.

Chapter Warning: This chapter contains a sudden shift from a romantic date to an intense, potentially dangerous situation involving a robbery, with moments of suspense, gun use, and police intervention.

A/N: My first fic about the rookie eeeeeeeeek

The evening was perfect—the kind of night that begged for romance. The sun had just set, leaving behind a soft twilight that bathed Los Angeles in shades of purple and gold. The upscale restaurant Tim Bradford had chosen was nestled in a quiet corner of the city, known for its elegance and discretion. It was the kind of place where celebrities could dine without being disturbed, and tonight, it was the stage for a first date that had been a long time coming.

Tim arrived first, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nerves. His usually steady hands betrayed a slight tremor as he adjusted the cuffs of his navy-blue suit. The suit was perfectly tailored, accentuating his broad shoulders and athletic build, the sharp lines giving him an air of authority even out of uniform. The crisp white shirt he wore beneath it was open at the collar, revealing a hint of tanned skin, and his dark leather shoes were polished to a mirror shine. His hair was neatly styled, though a few rebellious strands fell across his forehead, softening the hard lines of his face. He glanced at his reflection in the window, making a mental note to ease up on the cologne—he wanted to make an impression, not overwhelm her.

Just as Tim settled into his seat, Y/N Y/L/N entered the restaurant, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. She was a vision in an emerald-green dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, the rich color bringing out the warmth of her skin. The neckline was a perfect balance—elegant yet suggestive, hinting at the strength beneath the softness. Her hair was styled in loose waves that cascaded over her shoulders, and her makeup was subtle but impeccable, with a soft shimmer on her eyelids that caught the light just so. A delicate gold necklace adorned her neck, matching the small, sparkling earrings that completed her look. She moved with a grace that was both natural and practiced, each step exuding confidence.

Tim stood as she approached, his heart beating a little faster than usual. "Wow," he said, his voice dropping an octave, full of genuine admiration. "You look... stunning."

Y/N smiled, a hint of a blush rising to her cheeks. "Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself, Bradford. I almost didn't recognize you without the uniform and scowl."

He chuckled, the tension easing slightly. "I save the scowl for the rookies. And for bad guys. I promise you won't see it tonight."

She raised an eyebrow playfully as she took her seat. "We'll see about that. I’m sure I could get it out of you if I tried."

Tim’s eyes sparkled with amusement. "Careful, Detective. You don’t want to see me at my worst tonight."

"Oh, I’m not afraid of you," Y/N teased, her voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. "In fact, I’m looking forward to it."

Tim leaned in slightly, his gaze locking with hers. "You know, I wasn't sure you'd actually say yes to this. We've worked together for a while, and I didn’t know if you’d be interested in mixing business with… pleasure."

Y/N's lips curled into a slow, seductive smile. "Who says I’m interested in pleasure, Bradford? Maybe I just wanted to see if you’re as tough off-duty as you are on."

His grin widened, clearly enjoying the banter. "Oh, I’m just as tough, but I can be pretty charming when I want to be."

"Charming, huh?" Y/N’s tone was light, teasing. "I’ll believe it when I see it."

They continued to flirt as the evening progressed, their conversations flowing easily from work to personal interests, each revelation bringing them closer. The chemistry between them crackled like electricity, unspoken but undeniable. Every now and then, they would exchange a glance, both of them half-expecting a familiar face from the station to walk through the door.

"You know," Y/N said, breaking the momentary silence, "I keep thinking someone from work is going to walk in and ruin this."

Tim nodded, his expression softening. "Same here. It’s like we can’t escape the job, even on a night like this."

"Well, if they do show up, we’ll just tell them we’re working undercover," she suggested with a mischievous grin.

Tim smirked. "Yeah? And what exactly are we investigating?"

"Restaurant quality," she replied with a wink, making Tim chuckle.

Just as they were starting to relax, the door to the restaurant was thrown open with a loud crash, and the once tranquil atmosphere shattered like glass. A man in a black ski mask stormed in, waving a gun wildly in the air. The room fell into a stunned silence, every patron freezing in fear.

"Everyone stay where you are!" the man shouted, his voice edged with desperation. "Empty your wallets, your purses—now!"

Tim’s eyes sharpened, his instincts kicking in immediately. He looked at Y/N, who had already reached under the table, her hand on her off-duty weapon. Her expression had gone from flirty to deadly serious in an instant. She gave Tim a quick nod, and they both moved with a speed and precision that spoke to years of training and experience.

"Hey!" Tim barked, standing up suddenly. His voice was authoritative, commanding the room. "LAPD! Drop the weapon and get on the ground, now!"

The robber spun around, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected confrontation. His gun wavered, but his desperation outweighed his common sense.

"Don’t move!" he yelled, his voice cracking. But it was too late—Y/N was already moving, her gun drawn and trained on him with deadly accuracy.

"Put the gun down!" Y/N ordered, her voice steady, every bit the seasoned detective. "This doesn’t have to end badly for you."

The man hesitated, his eyes darting between the two officers and the terrified patrons around him. The tension in the room was palpable, everyone holding their breath, waiting for the situation to explode.

Tim slowly approached, his gun also drawn. "You’re outnumbered, and we’re not going to ask again," he warned, his voice low and threatening. "Drop it."

The robber’s resolve broke. His hand shook violently as he looked from Tim to Y/N, realizing he had no way out. With a defeated sigh, he let the gun slip from his fingers and clatter to the floor. Y/N was on him in an instant, kicking the weapon away and securing his wrists with a pair of handcuffs.

Tim kept his gun trained on the man until he was sure the situation was under control. As the adrenaline began to fade, he glanced around the restaurant, noticing the wide-eyed stares of the other patrons. Applause broke out, tentative at first, then growing louder as relief washed over the room.

Y/N looked up at Tim, a grin spreading across her face. "So much for a quiet evening, huh?"

Tim couldn’t help but smile back. "Yeah, I guess we have a talent for finding trouble."

Y/N stood, pulling the cuffed robber to his feet. "Or maybe trouble just finds us."

Before they could share another quip, the sound of police sirens filled the air outside, and moments later, a familiar group of officers burst into the restaurant, weapons drawn, ready to respond.

Nolan was the first through the door, followed by Harper, Aaron, and Lucy. Their faces were a mix of surprise and confusion as they took in the scene—Y/N and Tim standing over a cuffed suspect, both looking more like they were on a night out than responding to a robbery.

"What the hell is going on here?" Harper demanded, her sharp eyes narrowing as she holstered her weapon.

Tim and Y/N exchanged a quick look, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Lucy chimed in, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Were you guys on a date?" Lucy blurted out, the question hanging in the air like a bomb waiting to explode.

Tim felt his face flush, the color rising from his neck to his ears. Y/N seemed equally flustered, though she quickly tried to recover.

"Uh, we were just… grabbing a bite to eat," Y/N said, her voice a little too casual.

"Yeah, just happened to be in the right place at the right time," Tim added, though his tone didn’t quite carry the confidence he hoped for.

Nolan raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. "A bite to eat? In suits and fancy dresses?"

Harper crossed her arms, clearly amused. "Right place, right time, huh? Sounds more like a date to me."

Y/N sighed, knowing they were caught. "Fine, it was a date. But in our defence, we didn’t expect to be playing hero tonight."

"Well, you certainly picked a memorable first date," Aaron remarked with a smirk, looking at the subdued robber. "Though, maybe next time choose a place that’s less likely to get held up."

Lucy’s eyes sparkled with excitement. "I knew it! I knew there was something going on between you two!"

Tim shot her a look, though there was no real heat behind it. "Can we maybe focus on the fact that we just stopped a robbery?"

Harper chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation. "Sure, Bradford. But you know this is going to be all over the station by morning."

Y/N groaned, rubbing her forehead. "Great. Just what I wanted."

Nolan grinned, clapping Tim on the shoulder. "Hey, at least you didn’t have to pay for dinner."

Tim couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, I guess there’s that, still get to keep the two hundred in the budget."

As their colleagues began to process the scene and take the suspect away, Y/N leaned in close to Tim, her voice low and playful. "So, how about round two? Somewhere a little less public?"

Tim’s eyes lit up with a mix of humour and affection. "Sounds perfect. And maybe this time we can actually finish a meal."

As Tim and Y/N walk out of the restaurant, still riding the adrenaline from the robbery, Tim glances at her with a playful grin. “So, any ideas for our second date? Preferably somewhere without armed robbers?”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head. “Yeah, I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night. How about something a little more low-key? Maybe a quiet dinner at my place? I make a mean lasagna.”

Tim’s eyes light up at the suggestion, and he nods. “That sounds perfect. But just so you know, I’m bringing dessert.”

“Deal,” Y/N replies, smiling warmly. “And this time, let’s keep our badges out of sight.”

They exchange a look filled with anticipation, both eager for a date that will hopefully be free of interruptions—and a chance to really get to know each other.

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[monst]

Escalation

Tim Drake x Reader

Summary: Tim had been orbiting you for a while now. It’s been weeks of him trying to get your attention, not that he hadn’t managed to grab it, you were just really good at pretending to be oblivious. Why were you being purposefully oblivious when you clearly fancied him? Well? He was prone to escalation.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDI), Snapchat, M. Masterbastion, Unsolicited video, Dubious phone sex (Reader calls Tim and doesn't know he's getting off but is into it)

WC: 1.1k

    He thought he was slick. But he was surprisingly more predictable than you originally thought, that or he was starting to get really desperate. Your first clue into his most recent scheme was his story, his story on Snap of all places. It wasn’t often that Tim used the app nor was it often that he posted his current location. Said location turned out to be a dive bar in the fashion district with his civilian friends. You let out a low whistle when you caught a glimpse of his outfit for the night. You couldn't lie it was a cute setup. 

    So, it really wasn’t a surprise when you received a snap a couple hours into the night. See Tim had been orbiting you for a while now. It’s been weeks of him trying to get your attention, not that he hadn’t managed to grab it, you were just really good at pretending to be oblivious. Why were you being purposefully oblivious when you clearly fancied him? Well? He was prone to escalation. And you were morbidly curious to see what scheme he’d cook up next.

    When you first caught on to his feelings for you it was by his change in style, some stronger cologne, and him just barely entering your personal space. It was ridiculously flattering catching him in the act of getting into the perfect pose for you to walk in on. But as if that wasn’t enough for him he’d also gotten very flirty, every other sentence an innuendo you had to pretend to miss, and very interesting pictures of him had begun to fill your shared group chat. Now you would have given him a sign much sooner had he not pulled that stunt two weeks ago. Jeez, he was practically throwing himself at you and at Tam’s birthday party no less. If you had to guess it was that, that had you playing pretend. You wanted to see how far he’d go till he had no choice but to just come out and say it. 

    But back to that unopened snap. You figured it’d be some staged ‘randomly drunk shenanigans’. If you had to take a guess, considering the bar he was patroning he was probably going to be grinding on a pole, pretty face flushed a rosy pink, glossy lips muttering the song lyrics, his sultry blue eyes half lidded gazing into whichever camera was catching the roll of his hips against the metal, probably running pale hands down his glitter covered skin, see through shirt clinging to his muscles as his shapely legs gripped onto the pole. He was surprisingly good at pole dancing and the thought of it being a free show had you sat on your couch to watch. 

    “Okay Timmy” You snickered “Let’s se-

        Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes moving across the screen rapidly as you took the sight laid out before you. 

       “No way” You couldn’t see anything in the room save for what the blue light of his computer screen revealed. And reveal it did. You heard yourself swallow, as your eyes followed his tongue swiping against his plump bottom lip. They parted out of frame when his head slipped back, the long column of his pale neck a stark contrast against his black gaming chair. It was the faded scar on his neck that confirmed his identity for you. Your eyes went lower, watching as his chest rose and fell, pebbled pink nipples almost distracting you from the bead of sweat cutting a line down his pecs. 

    “Ungh f-fuck” You nearly jumped at the groan. Eyes widening as you were provided with audio. His panting could be heard from your phone speaker, and movement had your eyes slipping further down his body. 

        “Jesus” you exhaled. You knew Tim was pretty but his cock had no right in sharing that with the rest of him. You felt your cheeks warm at the sight parted thighs, his palm squeezing the base of his surprisingly generously thick length.

    He let out a tantalizing whimper as he tugged his hand upwards, bucking his hips into his fist. The wet slide made easier with how much precum his reddening tip leaked. His other hand was gripping the arm of the chair tight, blue veins popping against his fair complexion. 

       “Mmm just like that.” He moaned. He suddenly paused and you brought your phone in closer. He leaned forward the lower half of his face back in frame as his slickend fingers grabbed his phone from the desk. You let out a shuddered breath at his unabashed moan when he pulled the device to his face to pick up a call. His palm came down to squeeze at his heavy sack, once again bucking into his grip. 

     His teeth caught his bottom lip. As he placed his phone in the crook of his neck, his other hand coming down to tease the head of his drooling cock, resuming a slow pace.. He huffed out a laugh in response to whoever was speaking. 

     “Me?” He gasped, voice a pitch higher. He coughed “W-working out… Ngh… Weahights lifting rigght now” He lied. 

     “‘Course” he let out a breathless laugh and it was then that you clocked it. 

     “He’s crazy” You breathed out. “Absolutely shameless.” As you squirmed you couldn’t help but remember that call, you really had hung up none the wiser. You really shouldn’t have found it as hot as you did. You bit your lip when the call dropped and he let his phone fall. His hand furiously working his throbbing length. He gaped, his head falling back again, his dark locks sticking to his flushed cheeks. 

     “Need you so fucking bad” He whined. His pink tongue peeked out from his pretty lips, pleasured mewls flowing freely. He leaned forward one hand gripping the edge of the desk while turning his head into his arm. “Mm god yes, wanna come inside you please” The muscles in his arm trembled as he came with a whimper that could arguably be your name. You watched in silence as he caught his breath, his skin flushed all the way down to his shoulders. Then abruptly the video ended. You let out a shaky breath, staring at the snap, eyes glued to the words Opened. 

      You’d really like nothing more than to save it to the chat or better yet replay it in bed. 

   “Well damn,” It’d be difficult to play this one off but you were crafty. Surly you’d figure something out.. Pretend you couldn’t open the video? But then again did you really want to? Well.. maybe just a bit longer. Tim’s always been the type to outdo himself. You can only wonder how this time. 

[theyellowhedgehog]

Tim and Bruce Part 2

Bruce went on a business Trip to Montana. Meeting Tim was a coincident. Bruce was in the back of the car reviewing the material when they stopped in a traffic. He signed and looked out the window to find Tim sitting at the bus stop scrolling on his phone.

It has been a year since Tim left Gotham.He looked different, but it was better than when he was at Gotham. Tim shaved off his head and Bruce can see his eyebrows just barely grew back. His face was pale with black eyes bags. Tim overly looked tired but it was better than then. Bruce's eyes settled on the scar on the boy's face Tim inflicted on himself. The scar was wrapped meticulously, in its healing stage.

Tim has changed, Bruce thought. Bruce almost flinched when he saw Tim raised his phone directly at him. Then Bruce realised Tim was taking a picture of his car. Bruce gave a hopeless smile, But he is still the same Tim.

Bruce bit the bullet and rolled down his tinted window. He saw Tim quickly put away his phone like he's not taking the picture.

"Tim!" Bruce called out. Tim flinched when he heard the car owner calling at him that he actually dropped his phone. Tim cussed and rubbed the screen to sigh in relief to see no scratch. Then he immediately look up when his brain registered who called him.

"Bruce?"

HONK!!! The car from behind honked at them to move when the light turned green.

HONK! HOOOONNNNKKKK!!

"Are you free? Let's get ice-cream!" Bruce yelled from across and opened his door.

HONK!

And Tim, despise his brain telling him no, his legs went up to the car and got in.

Now Tim is at a famous ice-cream place ordering ice-cream with Bruce Wayne. Tim chose classic vanilla and Bruce decided to be adventurous and chose durian flavor.

They couldn't find a seat so they sat and ate it at the viewpoint overlooking the lake.

"How's school?" Bruce asked as he bit into his spoonful of durian and gag. Tim was surprised by the gagging-patting Bruce's back to prevent him from choking.

"Are you okay? Do you want water?"

"N -choke- no! I'm fine." Bruce shook his head. And looked at his ice-cream offended. "the taste is fine, the smell is horrible!"

Tim choke back his laugh. Bruce noticed Tim's eyes were watering when he realised Tim was choking back a joker laugh. Bruce instantly turned concerned, "Do you have your meds?"

Tim nodded and fumbled into his bag and opened a pill bottle, and quickly drown the pill with water. Finally after a few moment he sighed.

"Are the pills not affective anymore?" Bruce asked. Tim shook his head. "I'm trying to go off med. I want to control it without med. 8 out of 10 times doesn't work tho." Tim give an exhausted sigh.

"What are you doing here in Montana, Bruce?"

"On a business trip." Bruce answered.

"The one about the prison renovation?"

"Yeah. And also to find a theripist for Mary."

"Oh, " Tim looked more refreshed after the pill, "the Mary Dahl arrest last week?"

Bruce nodded. They fell into a salient. Tim was avoiding Bruce's glances and look over the calming water.

"Please tell Damian, I'm sorry ." Tim began.

Bruce hummed, "I think Damian would appreciate it more if you told him yourself, Tim." Tim filled his mouth with a spoonful of vanilla and nodded not daring to face Bruce.

Bruce pat Tim's back in comfort, "Whenever you are ready, we will always welcome you with open arms, Tim."

Tim bit back a sniffle. "Okay."

Part 1, Part 2

[macaroonff]

Taste- Lee Minho

Genre: Undercover detective x gang leader; the roaring 20s Paring: Minho x fem reader Content Warnings: Spice (no smut),mentions of alcohol, inaccurate historical representation, not intended to be factually correct, please forgive any inaccuracies. Word Count: 5.6k Suggested Songs: Taste- Stray Kids Whatever Lola Wants- Ella Fitzgerald Fall in Love With Swing- Trio Manouche Smooth Operator- Sade

Refer to this for context regarding specific terms in bold

No one would ever fathom how utterly guilty Lee Minho felt with his tongue driven down your throat in one of the many dressing rooms the jazz club contained. He hated how his sweaty palms digging into your lower back barely managed to keep both of you steady against the rough wall.

He despised how desperately you held onto the lapels of his tweed suit, as the cold pearls around your neck jingle against his watch with every turn of your head. Every jingle was followed by a gasp, and together they seemed to override the perky jazz coming from the stage. 

He hated how he was stuck here, unable to release himself from his hedonistic urges, to the point where he neglected his work, the reason he entered this shabby club. 

Priv. Detective Lee wasn't supposed to be here today, not in your embrace, not under your enchantment, not under the influence of something he was prohibited from. 

Alcohol.

Despite his deceptive actions and seemingly careless attitude towards alcohol at parties, Lee Minho had a restrained regimen for himself. Especially when he’s working, which is almost everyday.

He only lets himself go when necessary in social gatherings, in  those crowded salons where everyone had their eye on him, forced to follow skewed norms to strengthen his reputation as an owner of a winery acreage in France. A false identity pasted on him to get any sort of tip-off in this industry.

The industry where smuggling had become as common as a family buying a car.

Last Sunday, when he happened to be at another one of these parties, he was invited by his neighbour Mr Brown to a different wine tasting session at a strange, albeit new jazz club, rumoured to sell cheap booze. Of course he’d go.

Not just because of the "good" alcohol, but because of the fact that any place selling cheaper goods meant that it was smuggled. Not necessarily, and not always; but in this day and age he was sure it could be nothing else.

So he enters this somewhat run down club behind the busy streets of downtown Chicago, surprisingly packed with locals, a pungent smell of alcohol immediately welcoming him. A smell he thought he was used to, but clearly not enough to refrain from wincing, his eyebrows furrowed at the chaos and the crowd; at the suffocation he felt walking in.

At the centre of this chaos stood, in all her glory, the lead singer, her sweet voice accentuated by the saxophone, the quartet following it. She stood below the dim yellow chandelier hung above her as a spotlight, in her white satin, semi beaded dress which fell just below her knees, rather provocative.

He doesn't look away until Brown reminds him of the wine testing and ushers him towards a VIP parlour.

He makes his way through the crowd, pushing against bodies dancing the Charleston, a recently popular dance that Minho found amusing. All of this while he probes the ins and outs of the club, looking for all entry ways through which big cartons could arrive, as well as places for them to be stored.

All he found was a door that appeared to lead into the dressing rooms. That didn't deter his ambitions though, because he knew that behind this lively exterior, there had to be secrets involved . He would do whatever he had to in order to uncover the operation.

If he had any flaws, it would be this, that he was too stubborn to give up on what his intuition said. He was hard headed, but in no way was he stupid. He'd be devious if it was necessary, he'd lie if he had to. He'd also seduce if it was extreme.

It wasn't his first time trying seduction. He'd done it before, at least six attempts, and maybe five successful ones. The last one was into girls, and he hoped, fairly desperate that this one wasn't.

After a while, he uses needing a trip to the toilet as a somewhat acceptable reason for leaving the now boring session. The drunk men weren't their most reasonable, and paid no heed to the poor excuse. Apparently being a connoisseur meant taking proper breaks. He shrugs it off with a smile, promising to come back in some time.

Lies.

He was long gone to meet his mysterious flapper who he surveyed every corner for.

Under the new frosted light bulbs bought for the bar, you find yourself in the company of many men and women alike, all desperately trying to sink their teeth into your precious minutes. All of whom you appreciated but wanted nothing to do with. Most of them were here to sign record deals from new radio channels wanting to capitalise on the upcoming modern woman movement. All of which you supported but didn't see yourself working as.

Not because you liked working as the main singer for a rundown jazz club. But because your actual work meant that you were never supposed to find fame. Fame meant prying eyes, and nosey neighbours; something you'd have none of in this lifetime.

Why risk it for fame, when you had important business to take care of here?

You had to make sure that not a single thing was out of line and that not a single person would ever find out about the second business run here.

So far, you've done a good job at pretending to be the club's owner's sister. And although it was true, the story behind renovating your grandma's old house into a jazz club wasn't. There was no grandma's old house, there was no renovation, no grandma either. This was always a place for trade.

Your kind of trade. Where you’d find the good dupes and sell it at a higher price, and the actual bottles would be shipped out for a lump sum.

The excess or the bad bottles would be sold in this club, at a discount. It was pretty simple actually, and it made you money.

Sure it was illegal. But sometimes you needed the money, no questions asked. This was how your family knew to fend. This is how you'd continue to fend for yourself.

The risks you took were calculated, and you weren't afraid.

While your brother looked after the actual shipments, you'd deliver intel, in control of all the information passing through here. Nothing happening in town would ever slip away from your grasp.

So what if it was a jazz club?

Most people from different backgrounds always ended up at "The Charmer". Most people let themselves go. They always end up telling the bartender about their business, the dirty dealings that they've also been up to. The fact that most were more grey than the white that they appeared to be.

It was no different for you.

And if there was any difference, it was that you'd never let yourself slip-up. You weren't stupid. You weren't a naïve little Tomato like most believe. Even if you did find yourself faltering, you'd know how to convince others into changing their mind about you.

The same way you knew you could convince Mr Brown that you were interested in the specificities of wine when he almost caught you switching bottles from the basement. You barely convinced him, saying that true wine from France would have plum and black cherry aromas, which it did have. Lucky for you, Mr Brown had no idea that dupes could have chemical fragrances added to them too, because he'd never had to collect wine right from the port. Defeated, he said he'd ask his "very dear friend" to figure out the truth.

At first, you were shocked that there was another wine connoisseur you didn't know of, but after asking your people to investigate, you realised why Mr Brown was so confident. Why he was after your tail.

You knew he was new to this part of town; an insanely handsome, Big Cheese foreigner who wasn't yet used to life in America.

That his speciality was French Wine, and that if he was rich here, he was even richer back home. That he might even be a scofflaw, since he hung around in as many alcohol parties as he could, including the ones for the middle class. This piques your interest, and in a long while, you haven't been as excited to unearth someone's mask.

Now, all you had to do was wait. Because you hoped, no, you knew he would come to find you tonight, regardless of never having spoken before. Because most people do the first time they visit this club.

Most people come looking for you when you're done singing. Because they're enthralled, curious, or physically attracted to you. Because you're almost too beautiful for them to admire from a distance.

These weren't just based on what you heard, but accounts from your members, beyond tired of regulars ravishing about you. But that wasn't enough . You needed beyond sensuality to tempt and guarantee clients. Sure your circle of customers had grown over the last five years since you took over, but that didn't mean the risk had dissipated.

So while your confidence was with justification, your anxiety insisted on you keeping things tight-lipped. You had to know everything that occurred in this paltry but pertinent place.

Maybe that was why you were grateful when your target approaches you of his own accord. His deep brown eyes intent on yours, his long hands embellished by his expensive Rolex oyster- an wrist watch only few would dream of affording-, an orange tie loosened as though he had drunk the daylights out of himself.

He was perfect. Both handsome and tipsy, there was nothing more you'd want out of a potential threat?

"Stunning performance," you hear a deep voice say, in a slurred accent, you can't tell if it was because he was French, or just drunk.

"Thanks, first time here?" you ask.

He nods, leaning ahead. "Mr Brown told me, you have some really good wine down here, something I might be familiar with."

"Ahh you must be the foreigner Mr Brown keeps raving about... Mr?"

"Just call me Claude," he replies sweetly.

You raise your eyebrow. Was he so private as to not let his last name slip? You call the bartender over.

"A bottle of our finest Cheval Blanc." you look back and smile at him.

Claude smirks. "I'm familiar with this wine you know. It's made from the labour of my vineyards."

You examine his face, looking for any sign of deceit. You'd come across many con artists, most of whom didn't have adequate expertise in alcohol. Nobody knew the real in a world where fake was deliberately greater. But here's someone who claimed to know, here's someone who you were sure was lying, despite no hint of deceit.

Why would a rich French billionaire come down personally to your shabby store, instead of asking someone else to collect it?

Unless he had something to prove.

Soon the glasses are laid out, and half a bottle poured. You wait as he swirls the glass in his hand. Despite the loud jazz, you hear nothing but the sound of ice clinking in his glass, and the aroma of plum piercing through, making it difficult for you to breathe. You realise, that after a long time, you're nervous. You see him smell the alcohol briefly.

The cup reaches his lips, and he closes his pretty eyes. You watch him gulp a miniscule sip down. It is silent as his eyelashes flutter slowly as his mouth twitches in slight distaste. Just as anyone else would frown, but for some reason his seemed deliberate, somewhat dangerous.

Dangerous was what Lee Minho thought you were, with the real thing in the glass in front of him. Somehow, he knew it wasn't a dupe. It had the same percentage of alcohol as he knew it should, and not one flavour felt out of place. But then again, he couldn't be sure; he wasn't actually the person he claimed to be. He wasn't an actual connoisseur. If this was the real thing, then it made no sense for you to sell it at a discount.

"Why is one bottle so cheap?" he asks carefully, leaning against the counter. This time, he looks at you in search of deceit. Instead all he reads is a hint of surprise on your face, along with a little bit of glee, he couldn't be sure.

"You should know after tasting them shouldn't you?" you ask, eyebrows raised, a small smile on your lips, as though you had it all figured out.

Lee Minho falters, suddenly unarmed. What did that mean? Did you admit that it was fake? Or were you trying to gauge his identity?

A wrong answer now, and he'd give himself away.

"Of course I know why, but I'd rather hear from you." he avoids, to which you don't reply.

He needs to draw everything from you. "The discounts are unreasonably low, especially for a Cheval Blanc. It almost hurts my pride," he playfully pouts.

He sees you shaking your head in slight disappointment, an amused smile along with it. "You shouldn't worry about that, you're not losing any money here," you whisper close to his ear.

He tries so hard to ignore the smell of may rose and jasmine that accompanied your Chanel no. 5 parfum, and he tried to ignore how some of the others gaped at him, envious of how close he'd gotten to you.

"How can I be sure?" he questions his breath slightly arrhythmic.

How would you know rather, whether a rich business man would have lost his money? Really nobody would know unless they went through the ledgers. Something you were sure didn't exist in his company, or else he'd know just how much he'd lost.

Everything he said pointed to him being a careless business owner, something you thought would never be possible for a man so rich. You scan through his appearance again, his suit looked genuine, the tweed proper. You even gently caress the back of his broad lapels to confirm. He was rich, but was he anything close to the person he says he is?

Out of all the people you met in this small place, there was one thing you knew too well. If something or someone is too good to be true, it probably was. He was no vineyard owner from France, foreigner maybe, but not someone who knows business.

Something about the way he tried so desperately to gauge your business instead of you meant that he wasn't here to play, nor was he here to strike a deal. Most businesses that advertise try to get their way into you, instead of the business. They usually came knowing you were a snake charmer, someone who could sell all the bad ones for better prices. Selling rejected alcohol ended up being a way for them to reduce their losses.

The man in front of you, "Claude", could be one of two things. An embalmer like you, jealous of the profit you're making; or someone here to investigate your business. A situation you were familiar with.

Multiple cops had come to investigate before, all of whom were easy to shut up. However the person in front of you didn't feel like a cop, he didn't try to exert power, nor did he try to undermine yours. A man so hard to read, you weren't sure how to make head or tail of who he really was.

"Hmm, only if you tell me why you don't think it should be sold for less" you offer, laying out your cards in front of him. His response would determine if he was a tremendous master of deception.

"It is indeed the real thing; however the aroma feels diluted, although the drink's concentration seems correct. It is from a batch of wine of secondary quality made from bad grapes. However the year it was made in, suffered from excessive rain, and the waterlogged condition meant that production had reduced that year. It would make sense for you to sell it for a higher price due to excess demand."

You smirk, as he answers correctly. Somehow, he knew his stuff. The details however did feel as if he had thoroughly prepared for an interrogation.

"Unfortunately the people who buy here don't care about a particular year, they care just for the alcohol. It matters to only a few, such as Mr Brown and your friends who care enough to investigate, Claude."

"We're just curious, since we're linked to the same industry. I hope you don't take it the wrong way miss...?" he enquires, his eyes never leaving your lips.

"My name is a secret for those the first three times, if you return after our third meeting, I'll tell you. For now, goodbye; I have other patrons to meet."

With that you leave hastily, already unnerved at the fact that he somehow picked at your disguise. Annoyed yet excited.

After a long time, you find something vaguely resembling a challenge, and the following meetings would ensure that you get every second worth of thrill from him. You'd make sure that Claude, or whatever his handsome name was would only tread carefully from now.

Lee Minho should've known better, that a woman so beautiful was so secretive. That a woman so desired in this mysterious club would obviously play hard to get. Did it help that she was also the owner of this place? No it did not.

But what did help was that a set of the smoothest pearls had fallen into his lap, and either on purpose or by accident, you had left him your necklace. Lee Minho couldn't decipher your intent, but at the very least, he found himself an excuse. It was as though petty fate that stopped him before was helping him proceed in this mission.

He searches for you in the crowd with continuous effort, but you seem to have disappeared a long time ago, as though your conversation with him was just another of his delusions. Lee Minho also realises that he's a little tipsy. He's starting to sweat under the warm suit in the crowded room, and he feels his heart rate pick up rapidly. Unlike how he had become tolerant of the alcohol here in Chicago, he wasn't used to this club as an entity, he especially wasn't used to you. For a trained detective like Minho, two minutes was all it took for him to decipher what a person desires, what their intentions are, but you were so hard to read. He had never felt so incompetent, so out of it before. He looks back at the bartender, who had offered him another free drink.

"What do they call her, that flapper?"

"She isn't just any flapper," the man replies with a smirk, "she's the most famous in the city, her stage name is Estelle Vin."

"Is she always that... mysterious? I can't help be drawn to her," Minho confesses foolishly, wanting to gauge the bartender further.

"Well, you're not the only one." the bartender jokes.

"Well then I'll need these," he reveals. the pearls dangling from his hand, "if you know what I mean," he flashes a wink, pretending to be a lovesick fool, unsure if it was pretention on his part.

Lee Minho leaves with a small stumble, feeling the blood rush to his ears, his entire body getting warm. His vision is somewhat blurry, as he pushes his way towards the door he was eyeing before, his hands clutching the pearls close to his chest in his breast-pocket, holding on as though his entire life depended on it, and maybe it did.

He had to duck through the entrance to the dressing rooms, where he found himself standing in a complex maze. There were doors to the right and left of him, and a long corridor leading down. The shabby exterior was deceptive of the space within the club, and he could barely believe that it was just a small, rundown club that lured people in. He walks further down the corridor, when a singer comes out of a door on the left. She looks at him, startled by his intrusion. "Who...?How did you enter? It's authorised personals only."

He quickly apologises, and in convoluted sentences that his brain pushed out, explained that he had something to return. "The door was unlocked, and I need to see Ms Vin."

The lights dimmed nearby, signalling that a new performance was about to start. The stranger looks rushed and tries to shoo him away.

"Get out, and stop acting like a stalker. This would ruin your reputation Mr Claude Landry."

Lee Minho's eyebrows furrow in confusion. Why did a singer working here know his surname? He had only disclosed it to Mr Brown and a few other aristocrats. He was sure that most of them were tight-lipped about it, but now he was somewhat alarmed. Of course, as a man of public curiosity, along with him being a foreigner, it may not be as alarming. Maybe a clerk saw him sign as Landry, and he overruled his previous suspicions. Absorbed in his thoughts, he slowly back away from this new area shrouded in mystery, until he feels the floor under his feet vibrating, as though something heavy was moving below.

"There's no way what I'm feeling is an earthquake now ma'am?" he questions, his suspicions aroused for perhaps the hundredth time in the night.

"I think you've had too much of hooch Mr Landry," the stranger replies.

Sure, he was somewhat intoxicated but there's no way he'd be this gone. He also made sure that the bartender didn't have any chance to spike his drink, which makes him feel fluky. The feeling increases, and he swears he can hear glass shatter below him, although faint. The Whangdoodle from the stage increases their volume as this happens, and Minho finds his ears ringing.

It was at that moment you spring out of your dressing room, almost alarmed. "Why are they so lou-" you exclaim but stop when you notice Minho.

His eyes look into yours, and for a second he feels relieved to see someone he knows, though barely. At least the situation didn't seem as unfamiliar as it did before.

"It's loud isn't it Ms Vin?" he asks, back to his stoic self, as though examining your anxious demeanour.

You hold back a breath, unsure how to answer the question. A new shipment was supposed to arrive today, and they're usually stored in the basement, which unfortunately happened to be right below where you were standing. You'd ensure that the entrance to this area was secure, but most of the men had gone to help carry the shipment in, which happened to be in excess today, and you must have left it open when you came back with your head muddled with thoughts of Minho. It was scary. The fate that usually favoured you, happened to be sabotaging you today.

"Yeah, the band is louder than usual, I should probably check on them."

You locked your door to stop him from entering, and nod at your colleague. She tries to usher Minho back to the main area, and you also try to leave past him. He grabs your hands instead, and you feel his eyes on the back of your head.

"This must be yours," you see your pearls drop from his hands, clinking against his watch.

You only now notice that your neck was bare, putting your hand against it. Another sound erupts from the basement, and you get frantic. You watch as your colleague runs down to the basement to make them aware of how conspicuously loud they were being. Minho is quick to follow her with his eyes, suspicion written all over his face.

In spontaneity, you pull him into the dressing room you had previously locked. It was a last resort to distract him, stupid as it was.

"I... I can wear the necklace here," you say, pulling him closer to you. "Or maybe you'd like to put it on me?" you try flirtatiously hoping to keep his attention on just you. You sit down on the red chair, and remove the makeup from the counter. Luckily for you, Minho seems to appreciate this opportunity just as much as you, walking closer until his hand rests on your naked shoulders. He carefully held your long bob in a fist, placing the cold pearls as delicately as he could around your neck, taking his sweet time. As he moves in closer, you feel his warm breath fanning your ear, where you're taken aback by his rapid breathing. You could feel his sigh travel down your spine as he bends to snap the necklace in place. It felt like he was holding himself back, deliberate. Careful. Once he's done clasping the necklace, you look at him through the mirror, his eyes focused on you. You see him take your appearance in, and a small gasp leaves his mouth.

"You look beautiful y/n," he says in a deeper voice, taking you by surprise. You weren't taken aback by the compliment itself but by the fact that you had never once given him your real name, and the only thing he could find out was your stage name. Even some of your closest workers were hidden from your real identity.

But you didn't want to confirm this with this stranger, deciding it would be best to feign innocence. You furrow your brows as though it was annoyance. "Who's y/n? Your wife? A lover? A tomato you fell in love with?"

He smirks, "Future wife, maybe. Lover, if we're looking to start from today" he counters, snarky, yet in a weird way seductive. At this point you were beyond alarmed and tried extremely hard to keep yourself grounded to this new predicament.

"What do you mean by we? Besides if you want to address me, then you can call me Estelle."

"Well, are you jealous Estelle? Cause to be honest I'd rather call out your name later instead of y/n. I really hope you aren't y/n."

Who was he and Why did he care so much? Maybe he was mistaken, your name might be popular in France, or wherever he's from. Because there's no way he was referring to you.

You wanted to change the conversation desperately, you absolutely had to. In so many years of hiding behind a façade, it was scary having it disintegrated, crumble in seconds by a mere stranger.

"I'm not jealous, Claude. I don't think you should be here, unless you have more to speculate?"

He says nothing, instead he reaches for his breast-pocket for the umpteenth time, removing his linen handkerchief engraved with C.L and a classic fountain pen with gold borders.

"Time and date, for our next meeting," he asks sweetly, a charming smile painted on his lips.

You take his pen and examine it carefully. "Looks expensive, must be a family heirloom," you ask carelessly.

Minho smiles, as though he had already won this game of deception. Did he actually know your name? No. But he made a somewhat educated guess. Like most of the women of the time, you had tattooed on your back your social security number. As a celebration of autonomy, it had become a popular trend, which you also seemed to have followed. Luckily, for him, he had access to the case of a few bootleggers who were hidden so well that the only thing that could be traced was the social security number on someone's back. The number belonged to y/n l/n. Did it help that the social security number had no pictures? No. But did it help that the numbers on your back were visible to him as he placed the necklace on you? Of course it did. He decided to take a dangerous bet, and observe your reaction.

Beyond your unperturbed expression, he could see a shift in your body language, your fingers clasped onto your necklace tighter for some time, before you recovered, your confident face wavering and your beautiful eyes shifting away from him . All he had to do was catch you in the act.

"You're such a liar Claude." you say out of nowhere. "What are you? A cop? you say also catching him off-guard.

"A cop, those incompetent people with a meagre salary? Of course I'm not, don't be ridiculous darling." he replies slowly.

He watches you smile, a menacing one that pretended to be comforting. "It was a joke, of course you're not a cop, you're big cheese around here," he takes the handkerchief from you, where he sees all you've written on it is "today" with a red lipstick stain on it.

"Today?" he raises an eyebrows in surprise. "Yeah, unless your bank's closed?" you entice.

He smiles and pulls you in swiftly. His unexpectedly rough hand that you would not expect someone rich to have, is on your back, drawing circles as his lips are pushed against yours. You taste the same cheap wine you had offered him towards the back of his tongue, except that it tasted so much better this way. You could taste remnants of the fake plum flavouring, mixed with the scent of your Chanel no 5 parfum taking over all your senses. You feel as his cold fingers trace definitely around your back. "Three" he whispers, "Eight," he continues, moving leftwards, causing goosebumps where he'd left his impression. "One" he continues. You pause for a moment, confused at the numbers he was repeating, until it eventually dawns on you. You push him away worried, your pearls clinking as you move back. "Anything wrong?" he asks innocently. You knew you couldn't directly admit to being a criminal. He wouldn't know just by your social security number, unless he was working with someone important. But he also somehow knew your name.

At this point you knew he wasn't a French Casanova, observing how his supposed "heirloom" had different initials engraved on the pen, L.M., which you were sure didn't belong to a Claude Landry, or that of a real family. It must have been a stolen good bought illegally, or that L.M were his real initials. The only way you could find out was if you played along.

"Nothing, I just needed a breather, your kisses are quite intense," you make a stupid excuse. Despite realising that you weren't yourself around him, you go back to making out with this handsome stranger, his hands going back to where they were until he managed to trace your entire number. He removes his tweed suit, and lifts up your dress until it was hiked far above your thighs, and with every movement the tassels of your dress get tangled up near his zip. You unbutton his cotton shirt, holding the fabric close, revealing his chest which was so much warmer than your hands. A chill blows through the window, and you shiver in between his warm touches. He stops there for a minute, and eyes the bottle of rum on your counter. He lifts you with ease, and places you on the counter, where your social number was reflected in the mirror, as though everything about you had finally been revealed.

"We should make our last toast," he speaks up breathless, sipping out of the bottle, then holding it to your lips. You accept, and gulp down more than you usually do. Something tells you it would be the last time you'd be this delirious, yet so satisfied. It was like with every kiss, he meant to take you down, in more ways than one. His kisses travelled down your body, scattered, frenzied. He kissed as though this was the first and only time he'd be this close to you. Soon you also gave in to the delicate pressure with all your being, overruling your innate intuition, lost in his seduction.

You were so guilty of doing this. Of finding comfort in the way he moaned your name, your real name, in low whispers, something you'd never trust anyone to do. And it didn't matter what secrets he hid when he made you feel this good. Though you were always guilty of lying to others, so was he. In a weird way, for tonight both of you would be equals- equally guilty parties for betraying yourselves.

Similarly, no one would ever fathom how utterly guilty Lee Minho felt with his tongue driven down your throat, enjoying it despite knowing you were a criminal. It was as though he couldn't let go, and for a minute he felt like none of it mattered, and that you were as innocent as your kisses fluttering over his collarbones. For tonight, he'd become the sinner, not you.

The same Lee Minho who hated being drunk during work hours, was beyond pleased, convincing himself that it was just for tonight. For just this night, he'd given into this hedonistic urge, of wanting nothing but a taste of your body, of your attention and your entire world which he would eventually have to destroy tomorrow. But tomorrow was so many kisses, so many secrets and so many bottles of alcohol later. So he continued deluding himself with your moans and soft lips, until he could no longer despise himself for his new intoxication: you.

Hi there, a small repost. I thought this read better as a single post instead of a two part, hence why some transitions may be bad.

I hope you enjoyed

<3 macaroon

[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Sunshine follows with Sunfall Pt. 7

Warnings: None really.

This is mostly just a filler chapter(just like the last one)

Honestly, I'm so sorry that I keep disappearing and returning with chapters that have no action. It's Judith + Jason content, though.

Series Masterlist

~☆~

"What time is Judith's award ceremony?"

1:06 AM

"8:30."

1:08 AM

"I'll be there."

1:08 AM

×××

That morning had been normal. You woke up Judith for school and fed her breakfast before she went to go brush her teeth. You then helped her put on her clothes, brush her hair, and put on her shoes.

She arrived at school normally, sitting in the cafeteria before going off to her class so that she could do her morning work before the entire first grade sat in the cafeteria together and had their awards ceremony.

You showed up at the school thirty minutes early, sitting yourself down in one of the chairs set up in the back for the parents. You gazed at the stage, smiling softly to yourself as you think about how far your girl has come.

Once a small girl who couldn't even hold her head up, now an elementary student who's going to smile brightly on the stage as she holds up her awards paper-

"Hey." A slightly hoarse voice spoke from beside you as someone sat down.

You looked next to you and noticed Jason. "Hello." You sat up slightly straighter.

Jason tugged on the front of his jacket as he adjusted it. "Hope you don't mind me sitting here. Is this seat taken?"

Another slight smile tugs on the corner of your lips. "Bruce and Tim are at work, Dick is in Blüdhaven, and Damian is at his own school. It's not taken."

"I would've thought B and Butt brains would take time out of work for this." Jason tilts his head slightly.

"They're at a meeting." You inform him.

"Ahhh...."

An awkward pause fell over the two of you.

"You look nice today...."

Your eyes go over to Jason again, your gaze soft. You catch yourself and clear your throat, looking at the stage again. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He nods to himself. "Well, not that you don't look nice everyday..."

You take in a deep breath and let out a sigh. "Thank you, Jason." You say again.

"You're welcome." He smiles slightly. "So, who's class is she in?"

"Mrs. Thompson's."

"Is she a good teacher?" Jason asks you.

"Judith likes her." You nod. "I'd say she's good."

Jason was going to say something else, but the cafeteria doors opened and students started walking in. The two of you watched as the first graders all filled the seats, sitting in rows assigned to their teachers.

"There's Jude!" You grin and point at one of the classes walking. Sure enough, your daughter was walking in the middle of the line.

Judith didn't notice Jason or you as she walked by, too focused on going to her seat. She sat down and a boy sat down next to her. The two of them started talking, smiling to each other as Judith waved her hands around.

"Who's that?" Jason asks you, speaking again.

"Her friend Alex." You glance at him as you tell him that. "Relax, she's literally six."

"I know, I know." He sighs. "Almost seven though."

"Oh!" You actually look at him now, instead of just glancing. "Will you be seeing her on her birthday?"

Jason smiles. "You think I wouldn't?"

A chuckle escapes your lips. "We have a tight schedule that day. We'll be at the Manor so that she can have a small little party, but we'll be back home that night."

Jason nods. "I'll be there. Text me when you get home."

"I will." You lean back in your seat and smile down at your lap.

The awards ceremony started just seconds later. Teachers took their turn going up to the stage and calling up members of their classes to hold up the awards they've earned.

Mrs. Thomson soon got on the stage and introduced herself, smiling as she called her class up by their names, starting with the Accelerated Reader award.

She went down the list of names and eventually called, "Judith Todd."

Judith excitedly got up from her seat and went up to the stage, taking her paper award. Judith went to go stand in the line of her classmates.

"Just like her father." You smile as you lean over and whisper to Jason. "You were such a nerd back in school."

Jason glances at you and tries to hide his own smile. You were right. He was a 'nerd' back in school.

Judith grinned as her name was called for a few more awards.

At the end of the ceremony, all students were allowed to stand and go visit their parents.

Jason and you stood and smiled as Judith came running up to the two of you. "Mommy! Daddy!"

Her arms reached up for the two of you and Jason lifted her up into his arms. "Hey, Sunshine."

"Hi, Daddy." She rests her head on his shoulder, handing you the three awards she got.

"Good job, Judy!" You match her enthusiasm, causing her to giggle.

"Thank you, mommy." She replies.

"Of course, baby." You smooth down her hair and lean closer to her and Jason.

Jason looks down at the paper awards Judith handed you. "AR. Good job." He smiles at her.

"Daddy's coming over for your birthday!" You tell the young girl.

"Really?!" She squeals.

"Of course!" Jason returns her enthusiasm.

Judith holds her father tightly as she kicks her feet, her smile widening as she wriggles around happily.

The teachers started rounding up their students again, making Jason have to let Judith go. "Love ya, Sunshine."

"I love you too, Mommy and Daddy!" Judith hugged your hips then ran off, leaving Jason and you alone again.

"Text me when you get home that day."

~☆~

Taglist: @keira324 @dakotali @22nranjan @skepvids @harpy-space @godknows-shetried @mirrorball-6 @macncheese69420666 @parkjammys @yyxy27 @burningkidanchor @elleclairez @amecchii @chickennugghon @marvelworldlover @oakexists @p0tterhead934 @makhaia @cassini-among-the-stars @tsukishimarawr @flowestallen @attackonnat @90s-belladonna @sucker4seresin @riahpickle-blog

[annespooky]

7th November 2023

No travel today as I'm already in Newcastle, yeah!

Woke up to find a paper had been slipped under my door, just to let me know there'll be no hot water for 2 hours later on today, okay...

The fire alarm rang while I was putting my nail varnish but it was probably just a test as the cleaning people proceeded with their activities.

Arrived too early at the venue as I thought doors were at 7 so got a drink in the meantime. Too bad I wasn't hungry as the food looked great!

Had a slight moment of panic at doors when my Dice ticket didn't scan, the lady had no list and I couldn't find my confirmation email... Luckily, the man behind me had a spare so I could enter.

The venue itself was ill-shaped but a correct size. Once again I was quite on my own for the Ciel set but I met a photographer who was also in Leeds so we talked a bit and I took his Instagram so to check his photos later.

PBE were great as always but I was off as I was thinking about my brother's funeral which took place the day after so I struggled to sing and dance freely...

Had another little chat with Michele before my friend Grahame gave me a lift back to my hotel, sparing me 30 minutes climbing back the slopes!

8th November 2023

Another day off today, off to Edinburgh! Well, if I can... All trains as delayed due to a landslip on the route down in Yorkshire but they accept any ticket on the next train approaching so I hop in! Great idea as in the end, my original ticket arrived almost an hour late!

My legendary sense of orientation brought me to my hotel with some diversion and found out that I got half of my ticket fare refunded by LNER, yeah!

Got some food and miserably fell asleep in front of the telly...

9th November 2023

Went to the National Museum of Scotland in the morning after breakfast in a virtually empty room. Wow, really like it! There's a part on the story of the Scots people with Mary, Queen of Scots, which really interested me. Checked the Egypt part as well and other parts (discovered the fashion wing on my way out and wow!)

Went back to the hotel for another hotel room picnic and getting prepared for the gig. Found the venue without too much hassle contrary to last time PBE played Edinburgh. My friend Gillian arrived just after me and we queued on our own in the stairs.

Got in and oh, there's a barrier, boo! And what the hell, it's miles away from the stage! We were on our own again until Ciel came on stage. As always for gigs in Scotland, the vibes are great, although the man to my right to literally stuck to my arm (get the hell off me!). Some man got Michelle's setlist and asked me if I wanted it, given it was handwritten I took it! Aubs gave me Matt's and his to Gillian.

Got a lovely chat with Michelle and Tim and got them sign the setlist. Jorge had to rush to Glasgow so he wasn't there. Gillian got her setlist and CD signed and was quite happy. Went back to the hotel quite quickly, although I almost slipped on my way!

10th November 2023

Off to Glasgow today, less than an hour by train and managed to check in at the Ibis by the venue on the spot so I could rest a bit.

Went to the venue too early so came back to the hotel. When I went back later and had a long chat with a guy in a wheelchair who wouldn't let me alone...

We were let in while Ciel were still soundchecking so waited for them to finish to get to my usual spot. The venue is as crap as last time but the audience was as excellent (although my friend from the day before followed me and stuck to me again...). A lady recognised me from February too! Got another Ciel setlist because it was lying there and no-one seemed bothered to take it... Was pissed off as some lady loudly talked during Chelsea...

11th November 2023

Long journey today, 8 hours and 40 minutes by coach to Nottingham! Luckily no one sat next to me and I mostly slept or listened to music the whole lot. It felt like doing the tour backwards as we stopped at cities previously visited with a long stop at Leeds.

Got a free cookie in my room and watched a bit of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire which eating and getting prepared.

They opened the backdoor from inside before the outside door so almost didn't get my spot, but my friend Nigel knew the people who were already there, including an Informer who wanted a picture with me (WTF?).

I busted both my knees against the stage during Dr Pong but otherwise this was yet another fab gig! Talked about PSB with Tim, who told me that they were his fave band so gave him an account of all my adventures with them!

12th November 2023

Off to Sheffield today, Lucy's home town and where she and Matt have moved earlier this year so this is a kinda home town gig. Got a train ticket valid the whole day so not in a hurry and I reach Sheffield station a few minutes past 1pm. It's pissing down and I'm struggling to find my Premier Inn but made it! (Well, I slightly damaged the handle of my suitcase when it fell while I was crossing a road by it's still okay). Got a room immediately without having to pay extra, yeah!

Given my hotel is by a roundabout, it takes me about 10 minutes (still under the rain), to find the right way to the venue (last time I was there was 8 years ago for PSB and I was staying at the Ibis), so that's 25 minutes later that I reach the venue and oh, it's closed because it's Sunday after 6pm! After waiting under the rain for about half an hour, someone puts me out of my misery so I'm queuing inside.

This is actually not the same venue I've seen PSB, I didn't know there were actually two rooms here! There is a barrier by its middle is replaced by a huge box where I lay my stuff.

There is a second support band tonight, called City Parking, from Sheffield too. They were a bit different in the way that the singer delivers more spoken words than singing, but they were very enjoyable.

Ciel have slightly changed their set tonight, switching Somebody with Far Away, which was great to hear. Jorge has a stroll on the box in front of me during their set.

PBE did another great and powerful set. After the gig, I thanked Michelle for playing Far Away, she replied that they wanted to change their set a bit so that I don't have to listen to the same set every night. Had another surrealist and weird chat with Aubs and when I was feeling the security was kicking us out, I was on my way. While saying bye to Matt, I reminded him that tomorrow is my 50th PBE gig, then Lucy introduced me to her sister Jessica and asked how many times I've seen them so she got a reminder too!

While putting my coat back in the lobby, her mother introduced herself to me, fully knowing who I am (hmm, feels like déjà vu with the PSB parents lol) and managed to get back to the hotel in 15 minutes (there is a tunnel underneath the bloody roundabout!).

13th November 2023

Taking two coaches today and the first one is slightly delayed... But got the second one without any problem, changing at Birmingham, where I'll be back the next day.

I have to walk half an hour to reach the venue, where I ask at the bar where the exact entrance is, it is actually outside so I go there and of course it's starting to rain! The band goes out for dinner and Matt doesn't like me queueing in the rain so checks with the security, who tell me to queue where it's covered, and they know I'm the first one anyway. Obviously, the rain stops and I'm back in the queue.

I leave my stuff with Doug at the merch as there's a barrier and I don't want to step on it while I'm dancing and jumping.

Ciel keep Far Away in their set tonight :) and Matt looks at me while singing More then at the end of the song proceeds with telling everyone that this is my 50th PBE gig and they have a gift for me! What?! Aubs hands me a bottle of prosecco and I didn't get that I had to wear the tinsel (sorry Lucy!), oh and there's a card too! I have absolutely no reminiscence of Heating's On afterwards as I was so stunned! (I'm used to PSB's discretion where they give me stuff after gigs). Matt hands me his setlist after the gig :D and I walk back to the hotel with the bottle, which I will chug for the rest of the tour back home!

14th November 2023

Day off today. Just a coach to go to Birmingham, where the gig is tomorrow. Managed to check-in earlier so got plenty of time to do some more laundry before meeting my friend Sarah for drinks and dinner.

15th November 2023

The gig is in a pub in the suburbs of Birmingham, which I reach after about 20 minutes by bus. Bumped into Doug inside the pub so had a drink with him until I joined (I mean, started) the queue outside (there are three venues in this pub, PBE are playing Venue 1).

Got to my spot and bumped into so many friends there! They include two ladies I met at a wedding earlier this year, who came just because I was coming, luckily they loved both bands! Came back to Birmingham with my friend Paula, who I met 5 years ago in Margate for PSB!

16th November 2023

Biggest headline gig for PBE to date! At Village Underground in London. Got another coach and checked in at the local Hub by Premier Inn early afternoon. It's pissing down (again!).

Arrived far too early to queue but you never know with London. At the end, I knew most of the people in the queue, who ended up front row inside.

Ciel are once again very well welcomed. They went back to their original setlist since the day before.

Matt is clearly very happy (well, even happier than usual) and states that there are so many people from so many periods of their lives in the room. Aubs gives me Matt's setlist and afterwards, when Matt comes back on stage and see the setlist has gone, he looks at me and I show him I got him, he looks relieved, bless him!

At the end, I manage to grab one of Rough Trade bonus CD (which prevents me from buying a sixth copy of the album to get it), which includes a new song called Green Eyes and the Radio X session they did earlier this year.

I then bump into J. Willgoose, Esq. from PSB and we talked a bit. When I mention that I have no idea what to do if PSB and PBE are clashing next week for gigs/tours, he replies to follow my heart, which doesn't really help because my heart wants to see them both! Remembering what Tim told me in Nottingham, I ask J if he met him, he didn't. I therefore called him from the merch and introduce him to J. Sadly J missed Ciel and apologises for this. J goes backstage, I'm chucked outside by the security...

17th November 2023

Back to Victoria Coach Station to get the coach to Bristol, which is slightly delayed but the Premier Inn is just by the station so this is fine.

After checking-in, I go to Rough Trade to collect my order for the Smoke Fairies album, which is out today and stop by Tesco for another hotel room picnic.

Once again I'm first in the queue and I actually arrive while PBE are soundchecking! Bonus! Then Ciel proceed with another lengthy soundcheck. We enter and find out that two steps are placed in front of the stage, okay, I'll try not to fall! I meet more people seen at other PBE gigs and they joke that I'm becoming more famous than the band! (Mind you, I've been mentioned in two live reviews so far!).

Matt screws up the lyrics of Simmering and I shake my head, which makes him laugh, oops sorry! It really feels likea home town gig for them as this is the closest to Devon we will get on this tour. the "Pear Lady" gives Matt butter biscuits, which another lady opens at the beginning of Dr Pong (what the hell is going on lol). The singing on More was exceptional too!

I meet the Spanish couple who were by my side during the gig afterwards and they wonder how many setlist I have lol. I thought they were friends of Jorge from Ciel, but no they just came because their original planned gig has been cancelled and they managed to find tickets from the waiting list. I get my bonus CD signed and Lucy says that she's glad I got one. Then I talk with Tim, who thanks me for introducing him to J :)

On my way to the hotel, I bump into the Spaniards again! They ask me how come I speak English so well, as this is kind a private joke that French and Spanish people are bad at languages, so I give them my best French accent impression. "Oh you can fake it, clever!". Fun fact, they were staying in the room next to mine at the Premier Inn!

18th November 2023

Almost the end of the tour, boo!

Off to Manchester today so two coaches to take, changing in Birmingham (again!). It's pissing down (again!) when I reach the hotel. Just realised I didn't buy any thank you card for the band and as tomorrow is Sunday, I'd better buy it today, find one with balloons in Tesco, perfect!

I reach the venue and there are people queueing... Wait there are two gigs today, Callum Bowie downstairs and PBE upstairs, and even a private birthday party in the basement! We organise ourselves into two queues, which the security was impressed with!

Having already been here two years before to see Haiku Salut, I was glad to see this beautiful venue again. The gig was awesome and there is an actual video of the whole lot on You Tube!

I buy all the Ciel merch, that is the brand new double EP, the former EP on CD and a lovely tote bag. Aubs tells us of all the stuff they've forgotten in venues (including the bloody mixing desk, for Christ's sake) and we leave.

19th November 2023

Last date of the tour... First an early coach back to London where I take the train to Brighton before checking-in at the Premier Inn.

I write the card then cry the whole afternoon... Well, maybe this way I won't be crying during the gig this way?

No surprise, first in the queue again, under the rain again...

There's a barrier, an ugly one as Michelle and Tim told me the day before, but we're still pretty close to the stage! Well, I was almost in Michelle's face during the Ciel set!

Matt thanks Doug for manning the merch, and I thought he wouldn't talk about me because he did in Oxford, but no, he chose the moment I was crying my head off after Chelsea to thank me again for coming to all the shows, bless him (again!).

After the gig, I meet Tim's girlfriend, who thinks this was so sweet what I did for him, because apparently, he talked about it for hours afterwards, well I like to be kind with people and I guess would our positions be switched, I would also have appreciated it :)

Well, that's another wrap on another great PBE tour! Who knows where and when I'll be seeing them again! At least I'm seeing Ciel in February!

[tomorrowusa]

I always thought it would be fun to reprogram the music selections at a Trump rally and insert tunes like "I'm a Loser" into the playlist. But what happened in Iowa was almost as good.

Donald Trump took the stage at the Iowa Republican Dinner to a song that started out with the lyrics, “One could end up going to prison, one just might be president”. The ironic moment came as the former president’s legal woes are mounting. Mr Trump has already been indicted twice. By the end of the summer, he may be the subject of as many as four criminal cases. [ ... ] Natalie Allison of Politico tweeted a video of the moment on Friday night. “As Trump took the stage in Iowa, this ironic line played: ‘One could end up going to prison, one just might be president.’ He had to walk out to Brooks & Dunn (like all candidates tonight) instead of his usual Lee Greenwood,” [ ... ] MSNBC host Katie Phang simply wrote that it was “poetic”. “Omg. That line hits right when he gets on stage,” State Attorney for Palm Beach County Dave Aronberg wrote. GOP strategist Mike Murphy wrote: “Ha! Trump is finally understanding [that Iowa Governor Kim] Reynolds didn’t get her job because she just fell off a turnip truck…. #SharpOperator BTW, earlier she was at a big Tim Scott event. And treated with due respect.”

Here's a vid with Trump's entrance and the song lyrics displayed.

The Iowa event itself was an orgy of extremism. With the possible exception of Will Hurd, all the GOP candidates speaking there were flirting with fascism to varying degrees.

We can't take 2024 for granted the way some people took 2016. It's not too early for civic mobilization for next year's election.

I Will Vote

[batfsm]

@lunette3002

Thank you! I'll look them up then.

I read/in the mist of reading as they update these fanfics that deal with the trope and made me love it even more:

'The Birds' Series by Oceanera12

Batfamily AU

Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Timothy Drake, and Damian met one another before Bruce Wayne ever entered the picture. Foster care in Gotham isn't exactly safe, but the four of them know what they need to do to survive. First, don't draw attention to yourself. Two, don't bother foster parent because he doesn't care about you. And finally, the four of them are family, which means they stick together. These rules served them well for about four years and they expected nothing to change.

And then they ran into Batman.

Notes:

Dick Grayson's parents still fell off the trapeze and died when he was eight. Bruce Wayne was not in the audience due to an emergency at work. Dick was taken in as the third and oldest foster child of Mr. James, where he met Jason Todd and Damian.

Willis went to prison when Jason was six. Cathrine OD'd when he was eight. Found himself under the care of Roman James a few weeks later, along with some four-year-old kid named Damian. He was a little surprised to find that while Roman is definitely negligent, he never tried to sell the two kids under him and pretty much ignores them.

Timothy Drake lost his mother when he was three. Janet was diagnosed with stage four cancer and passed away six months later. Jack Drake took the loss hard but determined that with the loss of his wife he was going to be the best father he could be to Tim. The Drakes are members of the lower elite of Gotham. Jack Drake was a prosecution lawyer but always had time for his son. When Timothy was eight he came home from a friend's house to find his father had been killed in a burglary gone wrong. He became the fourth foster child of Mr. James and came three years after Jason and Dick joined the group.

Damian has no last name that he knows of. He was abandoned on the steps of a church in Star City when he was around two. He has no memory of his life before and became very used to being ignored by most people. Two years later, Roman moved to Gotham City, taking Damian with him. A short time later, Damian met Jason followed a few months later by Dick.

Ages at start of this AU are as follows: Dick is 12, Jason is 11 (a few months away from being 12), Tim is 9 (almost 10), and Damian is somewhere between 8 and 9. Bruce is in his mid-twenties and Alfred is immortal.

'A Nest We Can All Call Home' by Ao3time (below is the summary of the first fic/prequel because the series doesn't have one)

From 'In Gotham, Even The Birds Are Street Rats': This is where Dick and Jason’s partnership had become Tim, Dick, and Jason’s family.

___

One-Shot Prequel to 'In Gotham, Even The Birds Are Street Rats'

Series

'a statistically significant number of robins ' by AstraEllis (not really the trope but it's Talon! Dick finding and staying with Tim who isn't Robin here. So kind of the trope? Maybe?)

In one universe, Bruce Wayne was at the circus when a young Dick Grayson lost his parents. Soon enough, Batman had a Robin.

In another, Bruce Wayne never became Batman, and Dick Grayson slipped through the cracks when the Court of Owls came for him in the night.

The Court of Owls opens a doorway in between the two worlds, and things get more complicated.

Notes:

-the once and future robin is about Talon!Dick arriving in the main universe and what happens when something distracts him from the mission the Court sent him with.

-deep roots are not reached by the frost//from the ashes a fire shall be woken is Nightwing!Dick's perspective on some of the events from the once and future robin

-at some point, there will be a sequel fic and it will have a title, and it covers what happens after the end of the once and future robin

'Changing Seasons'by jayburb (toothpasty)

Bruce Wayne is a monster hunter who lives atop a mountain overlooking Gotham.

Four orphan boys run into the Dark Hunter during his visits to town.

Batfamily shenanigans ensue.

***

Notes:

If this feels OOC, too bad! It’s a fantasy AU and I can do what I want >:)

Canon can go die in a hole somewhere, I’ll take what I want and forget about the rest.

Can be read in the order as posted or in chronological order :)

Chronological order: The Birdhouse, Ode to Autumn, Encounters, Winter Song, Glowing Season, Old Wounds, Symphony of Spring, Simulacrum, A Silent Summer, Plethora

There are probably more I have to read/have followed but that's what I can remember right now.

A favorite trope of mine?

When Dick meets and keeps Tim or Jason first before Bruce. (Not counting the circus meeting for Tim and Dick.) Or when Jason meets Tim and becomes his brother/parent before meeting the others. Or Damian meets his older brothers differently.

Basically I adore when the boys/siblings,I haven't forgotten about Cass or Duke, just not alot with them before they meet Bruce, end up as family WITHOUT Bruce being the constant factor. They then go to Bruce and Alfred. All of them.

You can write stories about the kids without bringing Bruce and Alfred in until the end and I will love them.

By the way... anyone got any good fanfics that have Duke and Cass joining the other four before Bruce takes them in?

Please and thank you.

I don't think I'll ever get tired of it. So many different ways for them to meet and become a family.

[havithreatendub4]

#fan art #Jerry Judge #saves #Tim Burton from #falling off #stage in #Tokyo Japan #Dark Shadows #Press #Johnny was surprised #2012

[ephemerensis]

Oatmeal Raisin // Jason Todd x GN! Reader

lil fluff piece. platonic! but any kind of relationship can be implied. jason has a lil craving for cookies that you help him out with. tim is allergic to peanuts which idk if that’s canon or not but…

—

As far as you were concerned Jason didn’t like you, not really. He got along with you civilly, certainly. But in all your years of friendship with one Timothy Jackson Drake, you hardly spoke. So you never really got to know Jason the way you got to know the others. At least not at first.

It was difficult to get to know any of them actually. Especially before you were let in on the whole Batman thing, and even after. It was hard for them to open up. And that was fine, because you understood that. And they were trying and you could appreciate that.

Naturally, Dick was the easiest to like and it got even easier when you found out that he was your beloved Nightwing. You were in love with Nightwing; owned all the memorabilia, had postcards of him plastered on your wall, knew his patrol routes as well as a civilian could so that you might just catch a glimpse of your favorite masked crusader. When you learned that you knew him? Dick became the sole recipient of your constant doting and gushing about how cool he looked on TV and what the latest magazine had to say on his relationships, his impacts on Bludhaven and so forth. You both shared a sense of humor, corny dad jokes and all.

Damian was trickier. You weren’t exactly good with children, which was bad enough, but he acted so maturely for his age it was hard for you to not feel intimidated. But as you fell for Titus, he yielded himself slightly. And when you learned that he could be swayed by the promise of a bedtime story (Jane Austen of course), so long as it was offered without condescension, it’d sealed the deal.

You bonded with Stephanie and Cass over disorganizing Tim’s meticulously arranged utility belt and hiding away all his suit capes around the manor. You argued with Babs over which stage of the hero’s journey Bruce was at in his developmental arc. You didn’t galavant the streets with them in search for crime, nor did you share tragic secrets in hushed solemn tones. Being a friend was enough.

Until eventually, you clicked with everyone over time. Everyone but Jason.

That’s not to say you didn’t like him. You admired him in your own way. He was pretty cool. He never missed a shot in training and if you were lucky enough to catch him in a talkative mood he’d teach you about the vital points to aim for or how to break off the safety switch on a gun so it wouldn’t interfere with your performance and throw you off (not a true story, just a hypothetical.) “Essential street smarts.” That was the extent of your interaction.

Until one night, you found him knocking on your window.

How he got your address was another story, probably the same way Tim knew your credit card number or how Cass found your Netflix password, but regardless he was at your window tapping away. You opened it, letting him in.

“Hey… If you’re looking Tim or something, he’s not here.

Jason clambered through the window, taking his hood off and setting it on your kitchen countertop on the way.

“Timberly? No no, I’m not here for that loser. He keeps talking about how much you like baking though, is it true?”

His back was to you as he tugged the gloves off his hands to run his hands under the water from your faucet. He sure knew how to make himself feel at home.

“Yes. Yeah. I do. Why?” Your brows knit in visible confusion as he turned off the water, wiping his hands on the towel you hung off the oven handle.

“You know how to make oatmeal raisin cookies?”

“I’m sorry? Oatmeal raisin?”

“Yeah. You know how to make them or not?” Turning around, the muscular man crossed his arms, looking down at you from across the room almost condescendingly, like it was a challenge.

“...you know what? I do know how to make oatmeal raisin cookies. Go run and buy raisins, I’ll start on the batter.”

Sure enough, within ten minutes Jason came swinging back through your window with a jumbo bag of raisins. After nagging him for walking through your living room with his boots on and making a quip about how he’d never finish that many raisins, you invited him to the kitchen.

He was a terrible cook. You didn’t know how he succeeded in mistaking flour for sugar, but he managed. After scrapping the first batter he added four extra eggs to and halfway through the second, you kicked him out and took over completely.

“No, I insist. Let me do it, it’s okay. Just sit over there and read a book or twiddle your thumbs or something, please.”

A half hour later, your kitchen was soiled but they were baking. Closing the oven with a satisfied huff, you looked over to Jason as you straightened yourself up.

Jason was watching you. But not in the critical way he fixed his gaze on passerby’s on the street or the hard gaze he’d set on his targets; just watching you. Calloused hands tossed a bullet cartridge between them as his feet swung to and fro from your barstool chair. He looked so boyish, it was almost cute.

“They’ll be done in twelve. Why oatmeal raisin? I’m not judging or anything but I make a mean chocolate chip that blows raisins out of the water.”

A tap sounded as he placed the cartridge down on the marble counter with a shrug.

“S’what my mom used to make.”

Slinking over to the adjacent chair, you took off the oven mitts to rest your face in your palms, looking at him expectantly to continue.

“What? We’re telling stories now?”

“I mean, you almost never talk to me and then you swing in asking for the least popular cookie type to date— I think a story time might be in order.”

“You’re keeping your mouth shut short stack, no one hears any of this.”

Huffing a giggle, you motioned zipping your mouth and flicking away the invisible key as he rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t exactly grow up rich. We’d have oatmeal every other day, mostly because that’s what she could scrape together. Fucking twat I was, couldn’t stand it. Threw a tantrum couple times ‘bout how tired I was of it. So she made oatmeal raisin cookies.”

His gaze was on his hands as he spoke but his eyes seemed to see anything but.

“I don’t want to get into all the details but, no matter how she treated me or raised me, she was still my mother. Afforded me this much kindness. Sometimes I almost miss her. So. Oatmeal raisin cookies.”

Wide eyes watched him, at a loss for words as your mind ran to process a response.

Breaking free from the recesses of his mind, he turned to look at you as he continued.

“Alfred usually makes them, but he’s out of town on business so… just thought I’d swing by I guess.”

The beep of the oven took you out of the trance.

Blinking, you stood. Clapping your hands together and reaching for the oven mitts.

“Well! I don’t know how good hers were, but mine are pretty hard to beat.”

Pulling the tray out of the oven, you let them cool a moment as you sought out a plate. Transferring them over, you slid it in his direction with a smug smile.

“Yeah, nothing beats Alfred’s, bud.”

He brought one to his nose, taking an obnoxiously loud whiff, cocking an eyebrow almost animatedly.

“6/10, more cinnamon could’ve been in order.”

“It’s not my fault you dropped like half my jar in the first batch!”

“Don’t yell at your food critic. Three point deduction.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms, “my apologies, my liege.”

Without missing a beat, he’d managed to shove the entire cookie in his mouth in one bite with the same cocky arrogance he’d held before. Mid chew, he stopped, looking at you in bewilderment before reaching for another one.

“What the fuck did you put in this?”

You burst out grinning, “Love, rainbows, and cyanide, it’s a secret recipe.”

If he heard you, he didn’t acknowledge it; scarfing down another with hesitation. Not that you minded. His usually stoic, suave, aura paled in the way his face lit up.

Between the two of you (mostly him), three tray fulls evaporated in the span of half an hour.

Packing up the last few batches you’d prepped and insisting he take the raisins home, you handed him a bag to see him off with.

“These got any nuts by any chance?”

“I used peanut butter, yes.”

“Thank you for your service, I will be passing on some to Tim.”

You snorted, “You’re not killing my best friend.”

With his hood back on, bag in hand, he clambered halfway out your window before turning his head back towards you.

“...can I come back for these? When Alfred’s busy that is.”

It caught you off guard.

“Yeah. No yeah, absolutely! Whenever you want. I’ll keep my window unlocked.”

“Not in this city you’re not.”

—

if you guys read the Last Cup of Coffee fic sgdjdd this was a deleted segment because i wanted to focus more on Tim 😭😭 recycling content at its finest tbh

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 5

Chapter 1     Chapter 4

“Not quite the child you expected to be on the front page today, was it?” Lucius commented, falling into step with Bruce as soon as he exited the elevator on their offices’ floor.

Bruce shot him a slight glare.  He heavily suspected the receptionist at the front of letting Lucius know he was on his way up so he could stage this ambush.  “No, no it was not,” he gritted out.  He loved Lucius.  He did.  But he was not looking forward to discussing this with anyone right now.  He needed to talk to Sabine and figure out his next steps.  He didn’t have time for teasing or hurt feelings, unless they were Marinette’s or his other children’s.

“Don’t think she expected it either.  She was quite distraught when the reporters found her this morning,” Lucius noted calmly.

Bruce stopped and glared full force at him. “Why were you with her this morning?”

Lucius raised an unamused eyebrow at him. “Early morning meeting with her and her friend, Max Kante, the one who actually invented the fabric Ms. Cole tried to take credit for.”  He continued walking toward Bruce’s office, not caring whether he caught up or not. If he wanted to be an overbearing ass, they could have a meeting with that tone and Bruce definitely wouldn’t be the one to win.

“Sorry,” Bruce grumbled, catching up to him.

Lucius nodded to let him know he accepted the apology. “She takes after you, you know.  I could see how upset she was with the reporters’ questions but she masked it expertly.  Seemed to completely shut down those emotions.  If I didn’t know you, I might not have known it was all an act.  Shut the reporter down without admitting anything too, or lying.  Quite smart, that daughter of yours.”  Lucius turned toward Bruce as they passed through Bruce’s office doors.  “Must get that from her mother,” he teased.

Bruce let out a long breath.  “Without a doubt.  How was she at the meeting?”

Lucius raised both eyebrows at that question, otherwise not reacting at all.  “You haven’t spoken with her yet?”

Bruce focused on his desk as he sat behind it. “I haven’t had the opportunity yet,” he hedged.

Lucius narrowed his eyes slightly but answered the question.  “She was brilliant.  She is brilliant.  She was calm and collected.  Engaging and polite.  Very insightful.  You would never know she had been accosted and almost assaulted a few moments before. Completely professional.”

“What do you mean ‘almost assaulted’?” Bruce growled.

“Particularly aggressive reporter.  I gave PR and security his name and picture.  We’ll have a restraining order put out and he won’t be allowed at any Wayne events,” he answered calmly.

Bruce squeezed the arm rest on his chair until it fell off in his hand.  He let out an annoyed growl and threw it in the garbage.  He pushed the intercom on his desk phone, more aggressively than necessary.  “I’m going to need a new chair, David.”  

He slammed the button again before he had the chance to respond and let out a long deep breath to calm himself.  “It’s already started. ��It hasn’t even been a day.”  He shook his head and looked up at Lucius.  “Can you see about getting a restraining order for her personally as well, please?  And how was the meeting?” Bruce asked.

“It was successful.  Mr. Kante seems extremely excited about our contract.  He’s looking over it today, but I expect he’ll begin working for us as of next week.  I’m still working on your daughter though,” he mused.

Bruce choked and looked back at him.  “Excuse me!”

“To work for us,” Lucius tried to disguise the amused glint in his eyes, but not too hard.  It was interesting seeing Bruce acting so disconcerted, and not pretending for an audience, actually feeling it.  “She helped Mr. Kante develop the fabric and understands how best to show it off.  She would be invaluable to have on the project.  Hell, she’d be invaluable to have in the company.”

Bruce furrowed his brow in confusion.  “I thought Mr. Kante developed the fabric.”

“He did.  He definitely figured out how to make it work, but she was a significant help.  Her insights and advice were key.  She tried to deny it but he kept insisting.  Without both of them, there wouldn’t be any fabric. Not to mention she’s the one that discovered Rabler and Cole were stealing ideas.  She created the trap and presented the evidence.”  Lucius couldn’t keep the proud tone out of his voice.  

Bruce’s lips turned up in a wide, proud smile.  “Yeah?”  Lucius nodded with a proud smile of his own, albeit smaller than Bruce’s.  Bruce just stopped himself from saying ‘that’s my girl’ because he wasn’t sure he got to make a statement like that.  Not when he hadn’t been involved in bringing her up in any way.  But it didn’t stop his chest from puffing up with pride at the knowledge.  

She was smart.  She was caring.  She was creative.  She was insightful and brilliant.  She was healthy and unscarred.  She was everything he hoped she would get to be growing up away from him.  He must have done something right.  But the idea of having her work next to him like Tim did, getting to see her every day… He smiled at the thought.  “How successful do you think you were getting her to agree?”

Lucius hesitated.  “Not very,” he admitted slowly.  “I don't know the nature of your relationship…” He watched Bruce carefully as he spoke.  “… but she seemed to respond positively when I stressed that I wanted her because of her skill, not because of any association with you.”

Bruce looked down and nodded.  “There is no relationship. She didn't know.”

“So her being your daughter isn't the reason if you manipulated Candice into looking into her and offer her to the rest of us as a possible designer for the product like it was her own idea?” Lucius raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“I knew.  She didn't,” Bruce admitted.

Lucius nodded in understanding.  “Until when?”

“This morning, I imagine,” Bruce sighed.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at him, vividly recalling her behavior at the gala.  The way she’d balked at meeting him in his office at WE.  The way she’d frozen immediately upon seeing Bruce, all her fire and confidence falling instantaneously.  The way she’d been almost begging for a way out from having to spend time with Bruce.  “You think she didn’t know before the gala?”

Bruce scrunched his face in indignation. “No.  Sabine would have told me if she’d told her.”

Lucius shook his head incredulously. “Alright.”  If Bruce wanted to believe that, he wasn’t going to correct him. “So you were going to stay out of it and manipulate everything from behind the scenes?  Only exposing your relationship when you felt comfortable with it?”  Bruce looked down and nodded.

Lucius narrowed his eyes at him, his gaze suddenly sharp.  He tossed the file in his hand onto Bruce’s desk.  “I didn’t take you for a coward, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce sighed as he watched him walk out of the room. His gaze fell on the file Lucius had left behind on his desk, the file on DCD with Marinette’s picture on the front. He pulled the picture off of the file to look closer.  He smiled as his mind flashed back to innocent baby eyes blinking back at him. Her eyes hadn’t changed in twenty years. Still the same bright, brilliant, hopeful eyes.  His mother’s eyes.  He could see it almost as soon as she was born.  He could never allow those eyes to be hurt, could never bear to see them in pain, which is all his life seemed to be.

“Then you don’t really know me,” he mumbled as he put the picture back and turned away, his eyes landing on the phone.  He took a deep breath and got ready for the conversation he had to have next.  He picked up the phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.  He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration realizing he had memorized it not because he’d actually dialed it enough to have the muscle memory, but because he’d intentionally committed it to memory.

“That took longer than expected,” Sabine answered on the second ring, annoyance clear in her voice.

Bruce let out a deep sigh.  He wasn’t expecting this call to go well, but he needed her help. “I was handling the rest of my family. They didn’t take to the news that they had a sister I never told them about too well.”

“Shocking,” Sabine deadpanned.  “And how did Marinette take it?”

Bruce hesitated unsure of how to answer that. “You haven’t spoken with her yet.” The disappointment in her voice was almost palpable.  Bruce could almost feel it slapping him across the face and pulling him down to her level.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he admitted more honestly than he had intended.  “More than I have already.  I don’t want to drive her away by saying the wrong thing,” he chuckled mirthlessly at himself again, “and we both know that’s absolutely something I would do.  I need to know the best way to approach her.  What do I need to do?”

Sabine sighed and Bruce could hear her shuffling around until letting out a lighter sigh like she was sitting down.  “Well, everything’s going to be pretty raw for her. That’s the first thing.  She hasn’t had time to process this.  She needs to process in order to know how she wants to respond.  If you approach her before she’d had time to process, she’s going to freak out on you or just shut down completely, cold, detached.  Did I mention she sometimes takes after you, especially since Hawkmoth?

“But, she tends towards anxiety and overreaction spirals that she has to be brought out of.  Her friends are there, so see if she wants them with her whenever you meet. They’ll know how to bring her out of it and calm her down.  She might need a few more days before she can meet in person, but don’t wait until then to contact her.”

Bruce nodded, fighting the urge to take notes. That would be inappropriate right? To write down psychological insights into his own daughter?  “Yeah, a few hours isn’t all that much time to process,” he agreed absentmindedly, still trying to figure out how many notes would be acceptable.  He almost jumped in his seat when Sabine started cackling.  He did accidentally ram his arm hard enough to bruise on the point sticking up from the remnants of the broken armrest.

He sputtered until she took pity on him. “You think she’s only known for an hour?”

Bruce paused and stared at the phone, trying to process her words.  “You told her?” he was too shocked to be upset yet.

“No,” she answered quickly.  “I don’t know how she found out but she knew before today.”

“You think she knew when she planned to come here,” he said incredulously.

“No, definitely not when she first planned it,” she corrected him.

“How can you be so certain?”

Sabine chuckled ruefully.  “She's not like us Bruce.  She can't lie to save her life.  She's terrible at it.  She wears her heart on her sleeve.  If she knew she was going to see her biological father for the first time, without him expecting it, she would’ve been anxious, fidgety when she told me the plan to go to Gotham.  She wasn't.  This was all about Max.  

“I have no idea what point between last Monday and today she figured it out.  But, I can say that she's not answering my calls now.  I expected her to call and laugh about it or get anxiety about it because she felt bad for causing you trouble.  She didn’t.  She asked Adrien to let us know she needs space.  So she knew.”

Bruce let out a frustrated groan.  “She's upset.”

Sabine took a beat before responding.  “I'm not sure since I haven’t gotten to speak to her about it.  But, knowing her I’d bet on confused rather than upset.  Hurt.  Betrayed. Can you blame her?”  There was an extended pause while they both tried to process what they knew and how to respond.

After a minute of silence, Sabine spoke up a wry tone to her voice.  “You know, she’s always been an extremely cheery child.   Wouldn't know she was related to you at all when she was younger,” she laughed lightly, “well, people who bought into your socialite persona might, but nobody that knows you, really knows you and your brooding nature.  She always tries to see the best in everyone and bring it out.  

“She used to come into the bakery when we had customers and no matter what mood they were in, they would leave smiling.  Even the ones in the worst mood would be laughing by the time they left.  She just had that effect on people.

“But the one thing she could never stand, that drove her crazy, was a liar.  She can’t stand lying and liars.”  Her voice suddenly turned sharp and serious.  “And she just found out, and not from us,” she emphasized, “that we lied to her about this her whole life and that you never wanted her around but did want other kids around.”

“That is absolutely not the case and you know it,” Bruce roared instantly.

Sabine made a few placating noises.  “You know that.  And I know that… on some level.  But she doesn't.”  She stressed.  “I have no idea how you’re going to prove it to her now.  Because all she sees is that you walked away when she was one and never turned back.  Not until the media got involved and forced you to.  And she doesn’t even know that much actually.  Really all she knows is you walked away.  That's what you're going to be up against; her thinking that she is a burden, a prop for you, that all your interest is feigned.”

“Inadequacy issues,” Bruce nodded.  Memories of Damian’s first years in the manor flashed through his mind.  He shuddered at the memory of Damian trying to kill Dick his first night and trying to kill Tim the first time he saw him, believing he was interfering with his birthright.  “But not violent, right?” he asked cautiously.  Because if she was anything like Damian, they were going to have to take some precautions, not that Sabine had given him any reason to suspect that. But then again, it would mean she wanted to be part of their family, so that was at least a starting point.

Sabine laughed.  “Marinette violent?  She’ll rip you to shreds if you touch one of her friends, but verbally.  She couldn’t fight her way out of a paper bag.”

Her reassurance made Bruce frown more.  That was good… kind of.  He didn’t have to worry about her attacking the other kids, not that he was worried about that, really.  Nothing he had ever heard about her or seen so far would indicate that was something he needed to be concerned about.  But that also mean she had no way of protecting herself if she ever got kidnapped or caught in a rogue attack.  

Maybe that was something Damian could help her with. He was an excellent fighter and it was something he greatly enjoyed.  He felt at ease when he was practicing or sparring.  Maybe that was a way they could bond, Damian sharing something important to him.  Bruce immediately grimaced at the idea.  There was no way Damian teaching someone with no fighting experience how to fight ended well for either of them.  It was more likely to result in a frustrated Damian and a bloodied, bruised, and scared Marinette.

Dick!  Dick could teach her, or Tim.  Both also excellent fighters and both much more likely to go slowly, easing her into something her body had never been used to.  Bruce nodded to himself.  Dick would jump at the chance to work with her.  And Tim, although less enthusiastic, would be more than willing to help make sure she could protect herself.

Bruce took a breath and focused back on the conversation at hand.  “So… go slowly.  Ask if she would be okay with meeting first.  Give her time to adjust before the meeting.  Try to figure out how to reassure her my interest in a relationship with her has nothing to do with the media.”  He nodded with a grimace.  “That shouldn’t be too hard.”

He could hear Sabine’s reassuring smile through the phone.  “As long as she’s had time to process, it should be okay.  She’s helped friends go through the same thing.  It shouldn’t be too hard once you get past the initial part.”

“Right.  I can do this.” Bruce said, more to himself than Sabine.

“And Bruce?”  Bruce was immediately tense from the edge in her seemingly sweet voice. “Protect our girl.  This is a lot for her all at once.”

Bruce breathed out a relieved sigh.  “I will.”

“Because if you don’t, not even Batman will be able to protect you.”

Bruce blinked a few times and opened his mouth only to snap it shut quickly, unsure if he even wanted to figure out if that was a veiled reference or not.  After a few seconds he nodded resolutely, deciding it didn’t matter.  “I understand.”

“Good day, Bruce,” Sabine said sweetly.

“Good night, Sabine,” Bruce answered with a smile, wondering just how much of her mother Marinette had replicated.

Chapter 6

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[cjsmalley]

A Royal Birthday:

Damian’s first birthday knowing his biological father was an extravagant affair; the Waynes were invited as Royal Guests and were given a front row seat to what a royal birthday was like.

There was live music, snacks, including a multi-tier cake decorated with various paintings, a ghostly circus (that promptly welcomed Dick in), a ghostly petting zoo, and many other attractions.

The entire Phantom family, including those adopted because their family member was sold, was in attendance. It was a daunting number of people.

The Waynes were quickly absorbed into the massive family; Tim and Barbara talked tech and inventions with Tucker and the elder Fenton couple, Jason hit it off with the so-called Marauders, Dick also fell in with the Marauders but also chatted with Buffy Summers and her group, Cass found a kindred spirit with Buffy as well, Stephanie hung with Adrien and his girlfriend, and Duke found allies in sanity in Jazz Fenton, Lily Potter, and Alice Longbottom.

Alfred was speaking quietly with Clockwork.

Bruce waded his way through the organized chaos, grinning at his children, to Danny and Sam, who were taking a quiet moment with their youngest, still just a baby, Anakin.

“Enjoying the party, Bruce?” Sam asked with a grin.

“Quite a bash,” he agreed, taking a seat on a bench.

“We tend to go all out with birthdays and gotcha days,” Danny admitted, cuddling Anakin, “especially for those who were actually Sold to us.”

“I see. And the family?”

“All are always invited,” Sam assured, “we have a loose definition of family. Like you. Because you’re related to Damian and good for him, you’re family too. You, your kids, anyone you consider family.”

“Huh.”

“Oh, look, Ember’s taking the stage,” Danny pointed out mildly.

Ember was a ghostly young woman with fire for hair.

“She wanted to be a singer in life,” Sam explained, “but died in a housefire as a teen.”

Ember began singing, her sound almost rock but mostly a punky-pop.

“She used to hypnotize teens with her music,” Danny added, “caused an incident in Amity back when I was just starting out as Phantom. Now I let her be my bard if she promises not to try that again.”

“Her Obsession is music?” Bruce asked, mind working.

“With recognition for her musical talents,” Danny corrected, “or just recognition in general. Naming her the Royal Bard helps with her Obsession. Damian loves her. All the kids do. When we first got Damian, she made a CD of lullabies for us to use. Which was lucky because we ran out of the lullabies we knew so fast.”

“Do you hire all your former enemies?” Bruce questioned.

“Um,” Sam thought, “well, Skulker’s our bounty hunter now, him and Wulf. Ember’s our bard. Technus works cybersecurity with Tucker. Desiree we keep on a short leash, she’s the genie ghost, but she’s allowed reasonable wishes as long as she doesn’t twist them too badly. Everyone else’s either behaving or in Walker’s prison for crimes against humans or the Crown.”

Damian joined them, smiling wide.

In his arms, a ghost puppy was snuggled.

“And Cujo’s the family dog,” Danny finished, “Dami, enjoying the day?”

“Of course, Father,” the boy assured and Bruce noted an electric pink lion painted on his left cheek.

It was smiling too.

Then it winked at Bruce.

Bruce let it go. He knew damn well the Phantoms would never intentionally endanger a kid, let alone one of theirs. So it was likely just some safe little charm or enchantment.

“Who did the lion, Dami,” Sam asked, “I might get one too.”

“Uncle Sirius and Uncle James have started face-painting,” Damian replied, “they are quite good at it.”

“Huh,” she passed the diaper bag off to Danny, “let’s go see what they can do.”

Damian and Cujo led her away into the crowd.

“Little spells like that really don’t work on me,” Danny explained.

“Ah.”

Wished Away 4

Do The Research (or, How to Sell Your Sister's Soul):

The Ghost King paused, blinking, “You’re not actually trying to sell her soul?”

“No!” Buffy shouted, “I want to sell my soul for her!”

The King blinked some more, “But the ritual sells Dawn’s soul, not yours.”

He stopped floating and poked at the ritual circle, pointing out, “You used the right runes to sell her soul, not yours.”

“I wanna sell my soul,” Buffy assured, almost desperately.

“Okay, time out,” the King made the motions needed, “why are you trying to sell me souls? What for?”

And so Buffy explained and the King listened attentively, asking questions as needed and obviously already planning an offense.

The King, Danny, clapped his hands, “Okay, so here’s how we’ll play this. I’ll accept Dawn Summers’ soul—ah, ah, ah, hear me out, Buffy—like I said, I’ll take Dawn back with me to my dimension while we all work together on this Glory situation. After the dust settles, I’ll send her back. I don’t actually want her soul. So I’ll technically own her soul but we’ll do…shared custody? If that’s okay with you?”

He thought some more, “I’ll also pay her bills; like child support.”

The Scoobies boggled.

“That’s it?” Xander finally asked, “you wanna…adopt Dawnie?”

“Yes? That’s how we treat any kids I get sold. Adopted. Ours. Dawn would be my fourth child, second daughter…although I would probably just act as her uncle in this case. Her care and keeping would still fall to me.”

“Buffy,” Anya spoke up, “take the deal. I don’t think he’s lying.”

“But—”

“Slayer,” murmured Spike, “he isn’t lying. Bloke’s bein’ honest. Take the deal, protect the Nibblet.”

“What do we tell everyone while I’m gone?” Dawn asked.

“That you went to yer wanker of a da,” Spike answered quickly, “he took ya away from Sunnyhell, finally answered his phone after yer Mum died.”

“We’ll pack some things, make it look good,” Willow added, “we’ll pack a lot of your things, like you really are moving out.”

“Everyone will be upset you’re gone,” Tara agreed softly, “so it’ll be an easy charade.”

“I do want copies of her medical records,” Danny spoke up mildly, before asking, “So, Buffy Summers, do we have a Deal?”

“Dawn?”

“If he can help with Glory—”

“If I can’t, I can find someone who can.”

“Then I’ll go with him.”

Buffy nodded, squared her shoulders and said, “Then we have a Deal.”

Danny nodded, “Well, then Dawn Summers, welcome to the family.”

Within the day things were packed and the needed files were gathered.

The Scoobies met Dawn’s new family, or, well, part of it.

Who quickly absorbed the entirety of the Scoobies into the family, very few questions asked and most of them about allergies and favorites.

Even Spike was accepted, though the King’s parents had questions for him about his biology.

Eventually, though, it was time to say goodbye and Dawn was taken through a portal.

Danny and his eldest son—who refused to give any other name than ‘Chat Noir’, or, in English, the Black Cat—stayed behind as the atmosphere shifted into something decidedly more…tactical.

[dumdumsun]

Forever and Never

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this series ❤️ I’ve had so much fun writing this and am very proud of and excited for it, I can’t wait to see how people react to this. Um I know there are plenty of warnings for a first chapter, but I promise it’s not as depressing as it sounds. It’s just that this story can deal with heavy stuff sometimes, so I just wanna let you know that. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, death, sexual assault and mental illness

Word Count: 3194

—————————————

One: Hi, My Name Is

“So, what was your time in Pennsylvania like?”

“Uh… I’d have to say it was the best… and worst time of my life.”

“Best and worst, huh? Would you like to elaborate?”

“Well, I, uh… I mean, I don’t really know how to, like… explain it. It’s a lot. I don’t even know where to begin… Or how I would even word it or anything.”

“Well, you told me you like television and movies, right? You know those shows and movies where the main character tells the plot as, like, their life story? Maybe you could try that.”

“You aren’t… You aren’t serious, are you?”

“You’ll know when I’m joking, trust me.”

“Oh… Okay, then. Well, um…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi? My name is… (Y/N)? This is my life story, I guess.

So, if we’re going to talk about my life in Pennsylvania, we’re going to have to start with my life in Kansas, first. I had two loving parents that soon turned into one at the too-young age of nine years, when my mom died. I remember her as one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. She had this way about her that was so carefree, yet she gave a shit about everything. You could never pin a thought to her because she never let you in on what was bouncing around in her head. She was stubborn and patient and lively. I miss her so much. I don’t usually think about her unless it’s a particularly hectic day, which I then resort to talking to the ring I wear on my left pinky finger at all times. Wasn’t anything special, just some cheap ring with a little emerald inside she found at a thrift store. It used to be hers and she’d wear it on the exact same finger. My dad said she’d want me to have it.

My dad is my favorite person. He isn’t the most… present, though. His mind is never set in one place, always racing with hundreds of unrelated thoughts. It’s why when you finally drag him back into reality, he can’t repeat a single sentence spoken to him. Regardless, he’s all I had for a long time. I never really learned what he does for a living, but I just know that it forces him to leave town sometimes. Well, more like all the time. Before my mom died, it was easy for him to leave for weeks on end, but when he became my only guardian, he didn’t really know what to do with me. It was like he completely forgot how to take care of a child, his child. When I turned twelve, that was when he started travelling again. I would then be home by myself for a month to eight weeks. In these times, I had no choice but to learn to cook for myself, go grocery shopping and housekeep. I became pretty independent at a young age. It wasn’t like Dad left me totally alone, though. He would call every two or three days and he sent me two hundred dollars every two weeks. Like I said, I don’t know what my dad did, but he was definitely getting paid. At the end of eighth grade, Dad had a particularly long trip to go on, so he sent me to Pennsylvania, where his sister lived.

Pennsylvania was partially the best part of my life because of my family. My Aunt Pam was like a second mother to me. She was never able to have another child after my cousin Jacob and she’s always wanted a daughter of her own, so that’s what I was to her. The daughter she could never have. I’d often find her staring at me with a bittersweet smile on her face, watching my every move with a sense of pride, but when I’d ask her what was wrong she’d only brush it off as her admiring me. My Uncle David didn’t necessarily view me as a daughter, but he certainly treated me like one. When he wanted to spend time with Jacob, he included me as well. We’d usually go on drives around the town, but I always fell asleep to the soft and serene music that filled the car from the radio. On the weekends, we would head down by the lake and spend hours learning to fish.

I hated it, but I couldn’t complain. It gave me a sense of certainty to live with a father figure who didn’t leave me alone every two or three months.

Jacob was like a brother to me. He’s a year older than me, which, to him, meant that he had to protect me at all costs. I always assumed it was because he always wanted a younger sibling, and I was the closest he was ever going to get to that. I always felt as though I’d never be able to equal Jacob on an intellectual level because he practically had the IQ of Albert Einstein himself. I felt inferior to him until I found out how much of a joy he really was. On the weekends, he would beg me to accompany him in a movie marathon. I learned that Jacob was a huge fan of Tim Burton (his favorite was Beetlejuice). He’s the only cousin I’ve ever known. Mom and Dad didn’t like each other’s families, so I never met anyone besides this little family. Moving in with them meant that they’d have this huge burden on them.

Yes, I almost forgot to mention that I struggle with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD. It just means that my mind is flooded with these crazy and unnecessary thoughts and so my behavior is affected by them. For example, if I were to blink and felt I put more pressure on my left eye than my right, I would have to repeatedly wink with my right eye until they felt balanced. Sometimes I can’t enter a room until I have inhaled eight times. If I scratch an itch on my left knee, I have to scratch the right one in the exact same place. At the sink, even if I don’t use both knobs, I have to hold both in my hands. And when I turn them off, I often have to check about four times before I am certain they’re turned off all the way. I know, it sounds tiring. Just imagine being on my end, having it be a part of who you are. I can’t do anything to stop it, I wish I could. I was always afraid to make friends because of this. If I couldn’t be balanced, I’d freeze, and I mean actually stop whatever I’m doing and stand still, until my body felt as if I were balanced once again. Who wouldn’t make fun of me for this?

Apparently, no one gave a shit about it. After moving to Pennsylvania, I made quite a name for myself at school. Literally. My name was Zip. I have no fucking clue how that ridiculous name came to be, but that’s what I went by day after day. One could say I was considered popular, but it wasn’t like I actually spoke to anyone. When it came to extracurriculars, I only participated in theatre. I never was part of the cast, just the stage manager. Secretly, I wanted so badly to audition and be a part of the magic they created on that stage. Not to boast or anything, but I had the talent and potential to be a starring role. But I could never bring myself to break out of my shell. Nonetheless, being stage manager still got me quite the attention. Everyone was always so nice to me, so I felt a little bad for not considering any of them as friends. That was until I met Dina.

Dina was new to our school sophomore year. She had this sort of light to her that attracted the pesky moths that were our dull and boring school body. We had the same social status in school. People liked our personalities, so we were well-liked and accepted without doing much to prove ourselves worthy. She was sweet and compassionate and so fun. I didn’t mean to become her friend, but she was so welcoming, despite being the newcomer. We became close friends, but not best friends. We already had people filling those roles.

Dina’s best friend was Sydney Novak. Sydney moved to Brownsville around the same time as Dina, so the two became best friends quickly, but Sydney wasn’t very popular at all. She was shy and introverted, but I thought she was nice enough. I liked her and thought she was a pretty cool person. We weren’t necessarily friends, we were just well acquainted simply because we were both close with Dina. The transitive property, if you would. I just wish we could’ve talked more, our relationship was pretty much nonexistent.

Speaking of nonexistent relationships, let’s talk about Richard Berry. I honestly don’t want to even think about him, but he played a role in my life that was too vital to just offhandedly mention. For some odd reason, Ricky Berry was absolutely in love with me. It was so obvious to everyone except for me. Sophomore year, he expressed his love through the most arrogant and cheesiest of pick-up lines and compliments. I wasn’t so easily won over, if you could guess. I tried being good friends with him, but he’d always fuck it up when he tried to initiate intimacy. I didn’t want to hold hands with him in the halls or receive “friendly” cheek kisses. I’m not what you would call affectionate, especially towards people I’m not close to. It’s just never been comfortable for me. Junior year, everyone around me was buzzing with excitement when they heard Ricky was going to ask me to be his girlfriend. The cheerleaders, who got to know him through his high school football career, constantly pestered me with reasons as to why I would be so lucky to date The Richard Berry. Granted, he became less of a dick junior year, so I thought, Why not?, and accepted. Being in a relationship with Ricky was the most one-sided… anything I had ever been a part of. He was undeniably enamored with me, but I couldn’t find it in myself to reciprocate those feelings. He would show me off to his family and friends like a trophy, but if someone asked me if I had a boyfriend I’d go, “I mean, yeah. I guess”, so not a very healthy relationship. It also didn’t help that Ricky knew nothing about boundaries.

One night, we were in his bedroom, studying for a science test. Ricky wasn’t focused at all and kept trying to kiss and cuddle with me. I let him for awhile, but then he took my book from me and set it on the ground beside his bed. He suggested we have sex right then and there. Now, I was never a prude and definitely didn’t wait to have sex for the first time, but I never wanted Ricky to be my first. He hadn’t earned enough of my trust to even touch me suggestively. So, of course I refused. Ricky only took that as me teasing him, so he advanced, nearly forcing himself on me. Using all my might, I shoved him off of the bed. He stood to his feet, utterly confused, but I only gathered my things and left his house. He tried following after me, but I ignored him until he turned and went back into his home. The next day at school, he was holding me and kissing me and showing me off to everyone like he always did. As if nothing happened between us the night before. It was difficult to do, since he was so inconsiderate, but I managed to break up with him. He tried to deny that we were Splitsville for about a week, but everyone caught wind of our break-up. Once everyone knew about it, it became true for him. I never really felt comfortable with being intimate or open with guys after that.

Besides with Stanley Barber, of course. Stan was my best friend in the entire world. I told only my deepest, darkest secrets to him. And he told me his. The only things we really had in common were our lack of mothers and our hideous bacne. Stan lived a few houses down and was eager to get to know me a week after I moved in. I’d never met anyone in my life like Stan. He was so awkward, but loveable. I don’t know, I guess he reminded me of my mom. The way he didn’t care, but he so clearly did. Whenever I wanted to talk about something that was difficult to voice, we’d smoke to ease the tension. Of course, this wasn’t how we always communicated. Despite his nervous stuttering, he was easy to open up to. Stan provided a sort of security in my life. He was never going to leave me and that put me at ease when hanging out with him, which we did regularly. I don’t know when exactly I developed a crush on him, but I never wanted it to surface in our bond. He was to never know. It was just a stupid crush, right? He was a guy who wasn’t family and was so unbelievably caring towards me. It was bound to happen, but that didn’t mean he had to be aware of it. Though, it was a little hard to keep such a secret when we’d both made out twice already. The first time was while I was dating Ricky, the kiss was very awkward and ended after about a minute and a half. The second kiss was just half a week after my breakup. That time, we’d both known what we were doing. And I may be a little biased, but you couldn’t have even thought to fake the passion in that makeout session. We never talked about either of those kisses and remained friends both times. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that we didn’t become anything more afterwards. It was for the best, though, because two weeks before spring break, my dad returned from his job in Georgia and moved me to Kansas again. The move was so abrupt that I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone besides my family.

My life in Kansas for the second time was something I’d never want to experience ever again. Since it was a little late in the year, I finished junior year online. For some unexplained reason, my dad had us get new phones and new numbers, so I lost all contact with my friends. I had no one to talk to and it wasn’t like my dad paid much attention to me. I remember spending every waking moment with him when I was younger, talking or playing games or watching television. It used to be so fun being his daughter, but when we moved back to Kansas, I just felt like this huge burden in his life. Our relationship was strained and he clearly had other priorities in his life. Like whatever he left back in Georgia. I’d see his phone ring and the same number from that state would pop up before he’d leave the room and privately talk with whoever. It wasn’t the secrecy that was off-putting to me, it was the fact that it was so much more important to him. Once again, I was ignored by the one person in my life I wanted to spend the most time with. So, you can imagine the joy I felt when Dad had to go back to Georgia for work. I had been attending public school for my senior year and left not even a full month in. It didn’t bother me, I had no friends and nothing to leave behind. Mid-September was when I moved back to Brownsville with Aunt Pam. Everyone accepted me right back in. Especially my classmates. As I walked the halls I heard whispers like,

“Oh, my god, is that Zip?”

“Zip’s back! Where’d she even go?”

“I thought she died.”

The only person I really wanted to notice me was Stan. I missed him so much, I even got into his favorite band to have something to remember him by. I remember the day I got back to my aunt’s house. Jacob had picked me up from the airport and was driving me to the house. He was attending community college, but was still living with his parents. As we drove, he tapped his index fingers rhythmically to the shitty pop music that played on the radio. “So, what are you excited about for senior year?”

“Not much, I just missed Dina and Stan. Theatre, too. I wonder how they’ve been doing without me.” I chuckled. Jacob huffed in amusement.

“But you didn’t miss Ricky?”

“Fuck, Jake, you know I didn’t miss him for a second.” I frowned, waving my hand in dismissal. My cousin tauntingly laughed at me. Had he actually known about what happened between Ricky and I, he wouldn’t have teased me. In fact, Ricky wouldn’t even be alive that day if Jacob found out. No one knew about the incident, not even Stan.

Pulling up in front of the house, we got out of the car and headed to the trunk to pull out my bags. I tried carrying them in, but Jacob insisted that he do all the heavy lifting and simply asked me to carry my backpack and close the trunk. I did what little I was asked of and headed to the front door to greet my aunt and uncle inside, but stopped. In the corner of my eye, I saw movement from the Barber residence. Turning, my eyes locked on Stanley, who was frozen beside his car. He was wearing his work uniform and staring at me with the most bewildered expression on his face. It was like he thought himself to be hallucinating my existence. Smiling, I simply waved at him before walking back inside. When he got home from work that night, he headed over to my house and knocked on the door. I answered with a grin on my face. “Stan!”

“If it isn’t the famous Zip, showing back up in my life.”

“Ugh, do not call me that.” I rolled my eyes playfully before bringing him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin at the top of my head. I would’ve stayed there all night if I could’ve. When Stanley pulled away, my heart hollowed and a pit formed within my stomach. I felt unfinished, unbalanced. And I hate imbalance. He asked if I wanted to hang out and I accepted his offer. All we did was lay on his floor, listen to music and get high, but in that moment, that’s all I needed.

Bloodwitch, a joint, and Stan laying by my side.

—————————————

Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit

[anothertimdrakestan]

My Masterlist

Hi loves! After some reqs for it... here’s my masterlist!!!

Here’s the link to my headcanons masterlist!

Here's the link to my shitposts masterlist!

Here’s the link to my incorrect quotes masterlist!

Damian Wayne

Just One Night - Fake dating + Gala but one took it too far...

Super (terrible) Seduction - Dami x Jon where Jon tries taking the lead for once

Notes And Poems From Damian PT1 PT2 PT3 - Being separated during lockdown Damian can’t see you for fear of infecting you so he writes you adorable notes and poems. This is my favorite thing on my acc if I do say so myself hahaha. 

Familiar Green - a soulmate AU where you feel sparks when you touch your soulmate.

Robin vs Vodka - dealing with an over affectionate shitfaced boyfriend

Shakespeare And Dog Slobber - bumping into Dami and bonding over mutual embarrassment and tragedy appreciation 

A Lovely Intervention - Dami x Jon - their brothers worry the boys don’t know what their feelings mean, and that they’re too busy trying to copy their brother’s love than finding their own

Lovebirds - you (a member of the star sapphire corps) get a chance to fall for a snarky hero of earth

Sweater Weather - song fic surrounding admitting ones feelings at like 3am

Mommy Issues - finding your soulmate and almost getting murdered by his mother the same day is pretty damn exciting

Damijon Christmas - part of the Damijon Christmas gift exchange!

Tim Drake

Body - Challenging Tim’s detective skills ends in high, sweaty, tension

Inches Apart - Jason’s horrific, sexual attempt at getting you and Tim together 

Forever And Always - Short fic full of memories with you and Tim, from meeting to a first kiss all the way until the “I Do”

Totally F*ckable (SFW) - A two in one fic full of public embarrassment

Stages Of A Drunk GF - fluffy & funny loving Timbers

Stay With Me PT1 PT2 PT3 WIP- A vigilante (and slightly evil) reader finds her baby brother and love of her life but she can’t stay for long... 

Quarantine x Tim Drake (and the batboys ofc)  - fluffy headcanon about shenanigans living with the batfam!

Pick Me, Choose Me, Love Me -  You give Tim one last chance to make you his

Less Cases More Kisses - On a day off you convince Tim to stay in bed

Just Hold Me Tonight - Tim being a dork and helping the reader through a panic attack, gives a highlight on what my own struggle with mental health has been

Burn - my attempt at angst after tim cheats on the reader (songfic)

Hot Stuff - tim had to keep you safe but you end up saving him :)

Set In Stone - Choose your own adventure love triangle

Tongue Tied - Discovering your best friend and crush is Red Robin

Cup Of Café - hispanic reader shows Tim a whole new world of coffee

Life Changing Cuddles - after a long day you needed a nap (on top of Tim)

Heat Waves - steamy Timkon Fic

Jason Todd

Hips - Jason pretends to be your bf to get a creep of you, then doesn’t let go.

Keep Trying Lover Boy - Jason’s non stop flirting with Tim’s best friend

My Future - Jason being an overprotective boyfriend because he has a bad feeling about a bad guy.

Light Of My Life - PT1 PT2  - Jason falls head over heels for a new superhero in town but his brothers are in for a shock when they find out who she is...

Jealous Jaybird - Roy and J at a party where Jason thinks too many people are oogling his mans

Let Me Take The Lead - Giving J a reason to spend mornings with you (NSFW)

Total Flirt - J flirts his way into the readers heart

Stop Talking And Kiss Me - Passing notes like fifth graders really does the trick

Don’t Stop - A NSFW fic where the reader meets and falls for J

How Dare You Go And Die On Me! - Fluffy soulmate AU where Jason finds his future on live TV

And After All This Time - reader recounts how they fell in love with Jason and helps Tim along the way

You Didn't Save Me - jay watching the reader befall the same fate he did after being exposed to fear toxin

Hey Gorgeous - a fic dedicated to the way a nickname develops and grows with a relationship

2 Times Jason Todd Took Your Breath Away - two jason todd x super!reader short stories

Dick Grayson

Midnight Kisses - Comforting a slightly drunk Dick after a hard day

My Everything - Dialogue fic where Dick explains to Damian how in love he is

Batsis x Batfam

The Birds, The Bees, and The Bats - Dick tries to give the reader and Tim the sex talk

Jon Kent

Super (terrible) Seduction - Dami x Jon where Jon tries taking the lead for once

A Lovely Intervention - Dami x Jon - their brothers worry the boys don’t know what their feelings mean, and that they’re too busy trying to copy their brother’s love than finding their own

Why Me? Jon x Reader - Jon feeling a little insecure is answered with your affection <3

Damijon Christmas - part of the Damijon Christmas gift exchange!

Conner Kent

Dating Conner Kent Headcanon! (it's x reader so i think it should go here idk)

Heat Waves - steamy Timkon Fic

Roy Harper

Jealous Jaybird - Roy and J at a party where Jason thinks too many people are oogling his mans

Bart Allen

Set In Stone - Choose your own love story (my favorite post to date!)

Wally West

Absolute Cheeseball - After a steamy moment you realize Wally’s been after you the whole time

Gar Logan

Sharing Is Caring - Same soulmate AU from Familiar Green where the reader joins the Teen Titans and finds a shocking new (green) discovery

I just wanted to thank you guys again for the amazing requests pleaseee keep them coming they are my favorite things ever and nothing makes my heart happier than seeing my inbox full 🥺🥺🥺  

[buckleyydiaz]

torn at the edges

pairing: tony dinozzo/timothy mcgee

length: 1.4k

description: fuck rule 6, tony decided, and fuck rule 12. they weren't worth it if they were hurting mcgee like that.

---

Tony fiddled with the corners of the envelope that sat, sealed on his desk. Despite his urge to read what was enclosed within the crisp white paper, the nagging dread held his fingers back from ripping it open, instead just leaving the very edges of the seal bent and nearly torn.

There was no questioning who it was from, or what it was regarding - Tony knew from the moment he first saw it atop a pile of unfinished paperwork, set aside the previous night in favour of prospective alternatives, which had, at the time, seemed far more joyous than slaving away at his desk till some god-only-knows hour of the morning. As such, the butterflies within his stomach - not butterflies though, of course, something much more manly, and strong, and more Anthony DiNozzo like - were not a result of some memory he tried to bury deep in the back of his brain being unearthed, instead it was simply what it seemed; Tony was just stuck with an asphyxiating fear of what the words within, surely having been typed on that goddamned typewriter, and what they had to say.

His usually decisive mind fretted about what he was to do, as the timer ticked down before Gibbs made his mind up for him, sick of Tony’s messy thoughts flowing through the whole office, creating a generally unpleasant and on-edge atmosphere. Taking one last look at the empty desk to the side of his own, he tore the seal of the envelope open, without any care or finesse, pulling the letter out as quickly as he could, his mind now past the question of whether or not to open it, only now curious about what was contained within.

Skimming his eyes over the words on the page, Tony found that as he had predicted, written - or rather typed - in the signature style of the man who should have been sitting to his right as of well over an hour ago, but instead had been overcome with what had been skeptically announced by the boss as the flu, with a very pointed look delivered straight to DiNozzo, a clue containing Gibbs’s usual lacking level of subtlety, telling him that even if the note did contain the plague as one of a similar staging had years ago, that was the least of his worries, in the case that he failed to fix his fuck up.

Shuddering at the reminder of that certain set of consequences, Tony simultaneously felt vicious waves of regret pulling him under as he read what was written. Honest words from a heartbroken man, he quickly identified, all too used to hearing words that shared a remarkable similarity, but not from his best friend -- just from women who had read into something never meant to mean anything.

What only worsened the remorse was the knowledge that it was his fault - Tony wasn’t any stranger to self-flagellation, but in this case, it was more deserved than the majority. Instead of pausing, taking a breath, even just spending one fucking moment thinking about what he should say, he had just let his mouth speak without a second thought, bullshit pouring out as easily as it ever had, words that meant nothing, despite the perfect opportunity to say everything that actually meant something.

Reading what Tim had to say only set his regrettable words on repeat, a bad movie that he couldn’t turn off, no matter how hard he tried to do that very thing. Fuck Rule 6, he declared to himself, and fuck Rule 12. They had failed him this time.

“I think that the Probie could do with some soup, since he’s so sick.” Tony announced, pulling his jacket off the back of his chair, looking to Gibbs, who nodded, a wordless response that he took as approval to up and leave, to do far more important things than complete the ever-piling paperwork.

---

The drive to McGee’s apartment happened almost without Tony’s awareness, his focus solely on his destination, and what - or rather who - he would find, rendering him oblivious to the brief journey. His fingers tapped a rhythm on the steering wheel of his car, a symptom of his restless mind that simply would not settle until things were, for lack of a better word, settled, with McGee.

Once he parked, Tony couldn’t quite pull himself to get out of the car and speak to Tim. It was strange - he had always been a man of action, and previously, his conviction to fix what he had broken between them had seemed unbreakable - but in this case, it seemed daunting to do what was necessary. After a moment of letting his own nerves overwhelm him, Tony decided that the fact it was so intimidating was reason enough to do it. There was no way he was going to let a mere conversation get the better of him.

Setting aside his apprehension, Tony knocked on the door twice, waiting for a response from the man inside.

“I’m fine Abs, you don’t need to be here.”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh, despite the situation that lay beyond the door that he was more than dreading. Although tempted to mock Tim’s mistake in identifying who he was, he figured that in this case, it probably was better not to, to choose not to be an asshole. The last thing he needed was another thing to apologise for.

“I think you’ll find that I’m not Abby, McGeek.”

Okay, so not entirely un-teasing, but better than he could have been. There was a moment of silence, which Tony assumed was Tim deciding whether he wanted to take a trip down the fire escape stairs to get away from the looming conversation, before heavy footsteps came towards the door, followed towards the clicking of the lock.

The door opened in front of him to his friend looking… worse for wear, certainly. While never as preoccupied as Tony with how he appeared, he was generally not a slob when dressing, going to some effort to look semi-presentable when he expected visitors, but that wasn’t remotely visible in his current outfit.

That wasn’t at all to say that Tony didn’t think Tim looked absolutely adorable in his worn old hoodie and sweatpants, with an expression that looked equal parts sad and pissed off, but entirely pathetic.

Yeah, Tony wasn’t remotely sure how he had almost let McGee slip through his fingers - actually, he knew exactly how, and it had everything to do with years of intimacy issues that probably stemmed from a neglectful childhood or something or other, but it was hardly the time and place to unpack all that - so he returned to his plan to remedy that.

“I got your letter, McWriter, and I-”

“Stop it, Tony,” He was cut off, McGee clearly not wanting to hear what he had to say (not that Tony blamed him at all for that). “I don’t need you to make fun of me any more. It was bad enough for me to tell you… that in the first place, and then the letter. Can we just leave it in the past and move on?”

Tony almost felt bad for shaking his head at Tim’s plea, clearly oblivious to what Tony had in fact come to say. He let the silence sit stagnant for a second, before attempting to make a casual confession.

“Y’know, Tim, I’ve had a thing for you from when you were so green that just looking at a dead body made you green in the face.”

It was as though the words took a few moments to enter McGee’s head, and then another couple to process, the whirring of a computer working overtime could just about be heard through the pin-drop silence. Even when the words did seem to make their way through McGee’s brain, he only tilted his head, as though puzzled by what Tony was sure were perfectly clear words.

He scrunched his face up, deep in thought, before Tony decided enough was enough, and it was time to put him out of his misery.

“I’m into you, Tim. I’m sorry for not saying this before, but given how little your brain seems to be processing right now, I’m sure you understand how I felt. How about we break rule 12 together.”

Tony watched, heavily amused, as McGee’s jaw fell slack and his eyes opened wide, before he began spluttering for words to say.

“You...what? Y- uh-”

After a moment, Tony figured it was only fair to put the poor guy out of his misery and took a step towards him, leaning in until their faces were only centimetres apart.

“Is this okay?” he asked a still speechless McGee, who only nodded, before Tony pulled him even closer.