#Tim also takes a group photo of them but it's a selfie of him

[crushedsweets]

Envisioning the way the creeps take selfies . .

Tim Brian Kate and Jack would Not Take Selfies. They’re the type to take a photo of the scenery rather than the people they’re with/themselves. If they had no choice they’d just do it from a straight on angle , Brian would smile but the rest are awkward about it

Ben and Nina take selfies from a way high up angle . Ben just thinks it’s fun, Nina doesn’t even tilt her head up very much cuz she likes the way her eyes look bigger that way. Also tons of mirror selfies and different poses from Nina

Jeff does those weird selfies from a super low angle . Basically puts his phone in his lap and leans back for some reason. He think it makes him look cool

Toby prefers not to take selfies but he likes them if he’s in groups. He will do it from a high angle and turn on .5 so it makes everyone look like they’re in a fish bowl (+gets more of the background and what they’re up to)

Natalie and Jane take pretty normal selfies from a normal angle, something they could post on instagram and not get flamed for doing something stupid

Liu takes the most dad-like selfies possible . Like his brother, just a little too low of an angle but that’s just cuz he’s embarrassed taking a selfie . He knows he looks kinda dumb doing it

Sally died long before phones were a thing so she would set a phone on the table, peer over it, and click the button . Like a cat accidentally stepping on your phone

#hcs #chatterbox #I just looove to think about them in my little head being so littely stupidly stupid idiots my god

[frostbittenbucky]

Bruce Wayne

The Batman

The Dark Knight

Worlds Greatest Detective

Had fucked up

Bruce Wayne isn’t a slob, he’s not lazy- he is the complete opposite of his persona “Brucie Wayne”, who is a lazy pampered prince. But Bruce Wayne? Never.

So after Bruce finishes a snack he washes his dishes like any civilized human would do- or else Alfred would have some very choice words and some very petty actions towards him. It’s a simple task, take off his rings, run the water, apply the soap, scrub then rinse.

Simple.

But someone tell Bruce how the hell he managed to drop his ring down the drain? And someone tell Bruce why the didn’t stop for a moment and think before shoving his hand down the drain?

He fucked up. Now he’s stuck. But Bruce Wayne is a genius, he can get himself out of this silly situation. So he tries pulling... and pulling... and pulling. Ok, next option, lubricant. Soap will do. So Bruce proceeds to pour a generous amount of soap around his hand, he moves it around to make sure it’s coated, then he pulls. And pulls. Ok so next move.

What’s the next move?

He groaned loudly, thinking how utterly ridiculous and stupid this situation is. “Ok... dammit,” he muttered to himself. He decided to reach for his phone and-

Shit. It’s on the kitchen island directly behind him, where it’s just out of his reach. Why did he do that? Oh right, because he got water in his speaker last time. Right. Perfect. Wonderful.

“Alfred?” He called out, “Alfred, Damian are you still here?” No response. Shitshitshitshitshitgodammitshitshit.

Maybe he can reach his phone? He thought. So with all his grace he leaned towards to island, swishing at the air in hopes his phone would magically come into his hand. Nah.

Leg, his leg might reach. It’s longer than his arm, and his can get some torso length in there. Lifting his leg and leaning his body out he kicks at the counter, his brows furrowed. Fuck. Bruce is very flexible, but his leg and torso are extended to the fullest human capacity, and fuck why are these countered so spaced out?!

Bruce pulls his body back and lays his forehead on the cold countertop, trying to push down the rage that’s building up in his chest. This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid. “Is anybody home? Stephanie? Jason? Ca- not you, Titus,” He lifted his head from the counter and looked to his right, and there Titus stood in front of Bruce, wanting to investigate the noise. Seeing nothing interesting Titus tilted his head and gave a “boof” before turning out and leaving him to his own demise, “no wait,” Bruce reached out for the dog who already made up his mind.

So there he stood.

Bruce Wayne

The Batman

The Dark Knight

The Worlds Greatest Detective

Dumbass

Knowing he now has to swallow his pride and go into his next move, he groans loudly. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s called when it wasn’t anything life threatening. Sure, it’s rare, but it does happen. Plus, he always understands, and by now he knows the differences between help and help. But Bruce knew there would be consequences... because he isn’t scared of Bruce, all his intimidation tactics fall short, completely on deaf ears around him.

“Clark,” his voice sounded almost like a whine, his voice was a little hoarse from literally forcing the words past his lips, “if you’re not busy I need a hand.”

Just as soon as his finished his sentence Clark was stood in front of him, flannel, glasses, and cowboy boots, “howdy.” Bruce closed his eyes at Clark’s greeting, then opened them to send him a hard glare, “what’s seems to be the problem, Bruce?” A wide and knowing grin spread across Clark’s face. X-ray vision. No explanation needed. Sure friends help friends in their times of need. But best friends? Oh yea, Bruce had to earn his help by paying the high price of humiliation.

“Just hand me my phone, Clark,” pointing at the device just out of reach.

A shocked and confused looked replaced Clark’s smile, “oh, this? This phone right here?” He also pointed, walking to grab the device, “you don’t happen to have Face ID do you?”

“No, I w-“ It was a lie. Clark know had opened his phone just by turning it to Bruce’s face. A sigh left his body, was this price worth his freedom? Probably not.

“Hold on, B, I’m not dressed properly. This is a rescue after all,” and just in a blink of an eye Superman now stood in front of a tired looking Bruce, having no choice of his front vow seat the shit show that was about to unfold. Clark lifted the phone and snapped a couple selfies with Bruce, grinning his charming smile that the world adored him for. Bruce looked like a hungover raccoon, putting it kindly.

“Are your done? Just get me out and I’ll buy you a horse or something.”

“Aw, you do care. I knew you were listening when I told you about that pony farm,” Clark didn’t bother to look up from the phone, tapping away at the screen, “oh Bruce, your groupchat is named ‘family’?”

His eyes widen, “don’t you da-“

“-Isn’t Dick a firefighter? I think that he’s better for this job,” Clark announced, taking a seat on the island that just out of reach, “I hope you understand Mr. Wayne, I’m glad to offer help but them seems like a job for our local emergency service.”

“If you call 911,” Bruce growled, gritting his teeth together, leaning towards the other man and close as possible, “I swear.”

Scoffing, Clark waves him off, “of course not, why would I waste a 911 operators time? There’s people who need real help out there. I’m calling Dick directly.” Once again, is the price of freedom worth it?

————-

“Fireman Dick Grayson reporting for duty!” Cried his oldest child with two other firman following close behind, “hey pops I h- is that Superman?” He faked a gasped, clutching his chest.

The group chat had blown up by now. A series of text and FaceTime calls followed shortly after.

Damian: “Tt. Father this is utterly disappointing”

Bruce: “Sorry to be disappointing, kiddo”

Stephanie: “lmfaoooo I’m coming over. Be there in 10 don’t escape until I get there”

Jason: *screenshot of the photo of Superman and Bruce posted on Twitter with the caption: “when your dad panics and calls Superman”

Jason: *another screenshot of a multitude of replies along the lines, “what are you doing step bro?” “What are your doing Superman?”*

Duke: “the mighty Batman has finally met his match. A kitchen sink”

Cassandra: “😆😆😂🤣😬🤔🧠🤷🏻‍♀️💕💕💗💓💖”

Bruce: “thank you, Cassandra. I think.”

Stephanie: “imma do a live when I get there 🤣”

Tim: “you know we’re not going to let you live this down right b?”

Dick: “dumbasssssss”

Dick: “don’t worry B I’ll be there to rescue you shortly”

Bruce: “I can unadopt all of you.”

Alfred: “master Bruce, please word yourself properly. “Unadopt” isn’t a real word.”

Bruce: “Sorry, Alfred.”

So now that official rescue crew has arrived he expected this to be a quick and professional release. Nah. Dick, his oldest, his light in the dark, his son, his baby boy, is an asshole.

Dick started taking his own selfies with Bruce and Superman. Dick and Clark wore bright smiles, full of perfect teeth and glimmering eyes. Bruce, again, looked like a mess. He was wearing an old shirt, old sweatpants, no makeup on, his hair an untamed, scattered, frizzy mess. He should’ve conditioned, but he wasn’t expecting to go out today or have any photos done today.

The price of freedom is high, but not worth it.



#Bruce Wayne #batdad #superman #Clark kent #batman #Batfam #my post #I just want to make people laugh tbh #also I’m tired of Bruce seeming so perfect #I want him to do stupid things and make small mistakes #and I want more Clark terrorizing Bruce #also no I’m not editing this I’m lazy #dick Grayson #Cassandra Cain #duke Thomas #Stephanie brown #Jason Todd #Tim drake #Damian Wayne

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Make A Scene

AMHL – Masterlist

Dick immediately noticed when Y/N started getting quieter and quieter as they got closer and closer to the venue.

Bruce had hired a driver to pick them up from their apartment in Gotham. And the car had gone quiet now. 

Dick reached over to gently hold her hand.

“Nervous?” He asked.

Y/N shrugged, not really seeing the point in trying to lie to her boyfriend.

“This isn’t your first rodeo, ya know.”

She gave him a look. “You know that wasn’t the same.” Her eyes flickered to the driver. “I wasn’t exactly…myself. And I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

Also, tonight they didn’t have the security and comfort of being at Wayne Manor.

No, instead this particular event was being held at the ballroom of Gotham’s most extravagant five-star hotel. It was a party for Wayne Enterprises, not a personal charity or party of the Wayne family.

Bruce had kindly asked Dick and Y/N to attend when board members and business partners started asking if the whole family would be attending. Jason hadn’t answered anyone’s calls or texts about it. None of them expected him to show up. Tim had to attend since he worked for Wayne Enterprises. And Damian…Well, Damian was his father’s son and not yet an adult. He basically had to do whatever Bruce asked of him while he lived under his roof.

“I’m not gonna leave your side,” Dick promised.

He squeezed her hand to further emphasize it.

Their car pulled up to the carpet at the bottom of the stairs.

There had to be a hundred journalists and photographers, along with random civilians who had nothing better to do than to see Gotham’s elite get out of cars and walk into a hotel.

Dick took in a deep breath.

Thankfully the car’s windows were tinted and protected them from any onlookers.

“Ready?” He asked her.

She nodded.

Dick opened the door and ignored the screams and flashes as he carefully helped Y/N out of the car with his offered hand. He also shielded her from the photographers to give her a moment to get out and adjust herself before they could capture any photos of her.

“Mr. Grayson! Mr. Grayson! Who is your mystery girlfriend?” Someone yelled.

Sometimes Y/N forgot that Dick was somewhat of a celebrity in Gotham City through association.

It wasn’t like people were asking for selfies everywhere he went. Or that the paparazzi were following his every move.

But in Gotham, people took note of where Dick Grayson went and who he was with.

And everyone noticed he’d had the same woman on his arm for quite some time now.

Even though Y/N and Dick had been dating for over a year, the media still couldn’t figure out Y/N’s identity. 

What they didn’t realize was that she controlled every single piece of information about herself that lived on the internet.

They didn’t stand a chance. 

Dick smiled and waved at people who called his name. But his hand other hand never left Y/N’s as he helped her up the stairs.

“Who are you wearing?” A female journalist yelled at Y/N.

She ignored them and focused on getting up the stairs without tripping and face planting. Not that Dick would ever let that happen.

However, she knew her outfit was going to draw gazes.

Y/N had made a promise to herself that if she was going to be forced to attend events like this with Dick, then she was going make a statement. People were already going to be staring at her, so she figured she might as well give them something good to stare at.

Instead of wearing a typical cocktail and formal dress, Y/N wore a full men’s suit that was tailored to perfection, but with the bowtie undone. It was what the fashion magazines would describe as “androgynous” in the press tomorrow morning.

Y/N wanted to control her own narrative. And she’d rather be judged for her bold decisions than just her trying to blend in.

Bruce insisted on paying for all the boys’ date’s dresses – in this case, suit – if they happened to bring one. He always thought it was more of an incentive for them to attend these terrible events if he encouraged them to bring significant others. And the press always had a field day with it, which only helped throw people of their trail when it came to their secret lives as vigilantes.

Everyone kept screaming Dick’s name as they walked in, and Y/N wondered how he got so good at smiling through the chaos and ignoring them.

Once they were inside, Dick felt the tension leave Y/N’s body a bit.

“Alcohol?” He offered with a smirk.

“Yes, please.”

He nodded, knowing it was exactly what she needed.

Quickly, he grabbed two champagne flutes off a passing waiter.

They clinked glasses.

Then he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Thank you for being my date.”

Y/N smiled at his sincerity.

Dick sighed before he threw back the champagne, “The quicker we find Bruce and prove we were here, the sooner we can leave.”

“Try not to sound so excited,” she laughed darkly.

Suddenly felt a small human wrap around her thighs.

Y/N gasped in excitement, “Dami!”

Dick smiled as he looked down at his 10-year-old brother hugging his girlfriend.

“Dick gave me the drawing you made for us. It’s so beautiful. I’m trying to find the perfect frame for it,” she told the boy.

Damian beamed with pride at that.

Suddenly the boy started asking a million questions about Stoker, one of his kittens that he’d given to them to take care of when Bruce gave a limit to how many cats Damian was allowed to have in the manor.

Then, to Dick’s shock, he saw Jason slowly walk over to them with his hands in his pant pockets.

He was not at all dressed nice enough for the event. No suit jacket. No tie. His white button-up shirt wrinkled, messily tucked into his pants, and with two many buttons undone. The sloppiness of it all clearly wasn’t an issue with the women, seeing as all of them were ogling Jason.

“Todd,” Damian greeted coldly, pausing his conversation with Y/N, who whipped around at the name.

“Hey, you,” Y/N smiled as she went to greet him.

Jason gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek and a quick hug.

“I really didn’t think you were coming,” Dick told his brother.

“Well, I wasn’t. But I got a business engagement.”

Y/N and Dick shared a confused look.

“What do you mean?” Dick asked.

“I found my neighbor crying on her fire escape a few nights ago. Apparently… one of the finance bros of Wayne fucking Enterprises was everything but a gentleman to her.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in realization. “J, I already took care of that.”

“I know,” Jason nodded as his eyes scanned the room. He was clearly on a personal mission tonight. “You deleted the evidence. I am teaching him a lesson.”

Dick slowly put together what they were implying.

“Oh, please don’t make a scene, Jason.” Dick begged him.

Because he knew Bruce wouldn’t be dealing with the aftermath; it would be him.

“Don’t worry!” Jason laughed. "I’m gonna take him outside before I beat the shit out of him. No one here will even notice. It’ll be fine,” Jason assured him as he gave Dick a far too heavy slap on the back.

“Just tell Bruce and he’ll get him fired,” Dick tried to convince him to take the less violent route.

“Oh, we already did,” Y/N muttered.

Dick’s gaze shot to his girlfriend.

“He’s getting fired on Monday,” she clarified sheepishly.

“Since when do the two of you work together behind my back?” Dick accused them.

But he wasn’t actually mad about anything – maybe just a little bit bitter.

Jason opened his mouth.

“I swear to God, Jason, if you say ‘club business,’ I will lose it…” Dick warned.

Y/N tried to hide her smile.

“Got him,” Jason growled as he glared at someone on the other side of the room.

As soon as he left them, Dick gave Y/N his full attention.

“Seriously?” He accused.

“I’m sorry! He asked me for a favor and I was happy to do it once I realized what it was,” Y/N defended.

Dick pouted a little. Mostly because he hated being left out.

“Don’t worry, ya big baby. I’m still your ‘guy in the chair’ and no one else’s,” she teased before giving him a kiss, immediately wiping the lipstick off his lips.

“How come Jason gets to beat up people at events like this, but I’m expected to behave like a well-trained dog?” Damian mumbled.

Dick sighed and shook his head.

“Jason likes to think he’s a lone wolf who doesn’t have to play by the rules,” Y/N tried to comfort the boy.

To distract Damian from getting further into how unfair it was, Y/N asked him to show her more of his drawings.

This seemed to please Damian and he pulled his phone out, flipping through photos and showing Y/N his recent sketches.

With Y/N being entertained by his youngest brother, Dick decided to go to the bar and get the two of them a stronger drink and maybe get a kiddie cocktail for Damian. He’d pretend to be patronized and annoyed by it, but Dick knew better.

He patiently waited for the bartender’s attention. 

“So Gotham’s Golden Boy really has returned…” a husky voice uttered beside him at the bar.

Dick glanced over to see a beautiful woman close to his age eyeing him.

It was clear what she wanted. Dick used tactics like this on countless missions.

“So I have,” he answered.

He was polite, but distant.

Women hitting on him at events like this was nothing new. To Gotham, Dick Grayson was a Bruce Wayne 2.0 – younger, just as charming and handsome as his mentor and stand-in father figure. 

Dick knew how to play the game. But he never had any interest in casual relationships like Bruce did.

“Back for good?” The woman persisted.

“My girlfriend and I are just in town for a few weeks,” he answered before ordering his drinks with the bartender finally.

“Oh, brought up the girlfriend rather quickly,” she laughed.

Dick quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just…my friends and I had a bet going.”

Then she pointed to a group of three young women, who were giggling and smiling, not even trying to pretend like they weren’t watching them closely.

“Oh, yeah?” Dick asked, already tired of this conversation.

--

Jason had already rejoined Y/N and Damian.

Y/N looked down to see his knuckles red with irritation and bruised.

“Please tell me there’s not a corpse in the alley behind this hotel now…” Y/N sighed.

“No,” Jason answered coldly. “Though there fucking should be.”

“What did he do?” Damian asked curiously, clearly he hadn’t been listening to their earlier conversation that closely.

Y/N shifted her weight in discomfort, not sure how to handle the subject with the boy. Yes, Damian was far more mature than many grown men, but he was still just a kid. There were some things Y/N felt like they should at least try to protect him from still. 

“He got my neighbor too drunk to consent, filmed them having sex without her knowing it, and then showed it to a bunch of people at their work,” Jason answered bluntly.

Damian’s brow furrowed, clearly thinking long and hard about what his brother just told him.

After a moment, the boy perked up, “I know where we could hide the body so even father won’t find out.”

“Damian!” Y/N scolded.

But Jason was beaming.

Y/N looked around for Dick, hoping to find another sane person to stop the two boys from actually murdering anyone tonight.

But when she finally spotted him, she saw a woman standing far too close to Dick and pointing to a group of girls who flirtatiously waved and winked at both of them.

“Real cute,” Y/N muttered to herself.

“Vultures,” Damian growled as he followed her gaze.

“Jason, if I leave you alone with Damian, are you going to kill someone?” She asked without taking her eyes off her boyfriend.

“I don’t need to be watched,” Damian groaned.

“No, I need you to watch Jason to make sure he doesn’t change his mind about keeping that asshole alive.”

“Fine,” Damian whined.

Without any further confirmation, Y/N left them. 

She walked across the party on a mission, never taking her stare off of her boyfriend.

Dick did a double take when he noticed her heading towards him.

“Hey,” he greeted innocently.

Because he was innocent. All he’d done was be polite to a bunch of women who were after him for his name…and maybe his good looks.

“I was wondering where my drink was,” Y/N said with a surprising calmness and smile.

Then she turned to the woman. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N. You must be a friend of Dick’s.” 

She held her hand out.

No cattiness. No rudeness.

Y/N said it with the same kindness that drunk women having with other drunk women in bar bathrooms.

“Oh…I’m Irina,” the woman stuttered as she took Y/N’s offered hand, clearly confused by Y/N’s niceness.

Dick held out her drink.

Y/N took it, quickly clinked her glass with both Dick and Irina.

“Cheers,” she sang before tossing it back and chugging the drink that was meant to be slowly sipped.

Dick didn’t know what game his girlfriend was playing, but he was intrigued.

Once Y/N lightly placed her empty glass back on the bar, she turned to Dick and tilted her head to the side. “Could you show me to the bathrooms? I have no idea where they are.”

“Of course,” Dick answered without knowing where this was going.

“It was nice meeting you, Irina,” Y/N told the woman as she linked her fingers with Dick’s and guided him away.

—

Meanwhile, Jason watched the interaction as if he were watching an award-winning movie. Him and Damian were way too far to hear, but everyone in the bat family could read lips more than fluently.

Then Jason smirked as he watched Y/N drag Dick away.

“Boys,” Bruce greeted as he snuck up on the two of them. “What are we staring at?”

“Oh, you know,” Jason hummed with hilarity, “just watching Y/N assert her dominance.”

“Good for her,” Bruce grinned as he realized what was happening.

He moved his attention to his youngest boy. “Alfred is waiting outside with the car. You’re officially released from your duties.”

“Finally,” Damian groaned.

“Don’t you wanna say bye to Y/N?” Jason asked.

“They’re coming to the manor tomorrow afternoon,” Bruce answered for his son. Then he raised a brow at Jason. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Jason’s only response was a shrug.

Bruce tried to hide his disappointment and nodded before he guided Damian away and walked him outside, where Alfred was waiting.

10 minutes later, Jason saw Dick trailing behind Y/N as she walked back to the main area of the event.

Jason burst out laughing at the spectacle. 

Dick’s hair was an absolute mess. Half of his shirt was untucked. His jacket was draped over his forearm. His lips were swollen and pink. Y/N had left lipstick all over his neck and even a bit on the collar of his shirt.

Yet somehow not a single hair was out of place on Y/N and her makeup was still immaculate. Her outfit was just as sleek and clean as when she’d arrived. The only thing different was the proud smirk on her lips.

Clearly Y/N had just had her way with Dick.

But she wanted to make sure the whole party knew about it.

—

Y/N hadn’t said a word to Dick since she dragged him from that woman.

Her body did all the talking.

One second they were at the bathroom doors, the next Y/N had thrown him against the tiled wall after locking the bathroom door.

She gave no verbal explanation, just started kissing him and undoing his pants.

“Not that I’m complaining. Like, at all,” Dick laughed as they rejoined the party. “But wanna to tell me what that was all about?”

Y/N finally stopped walking and turned to face him with narrowed eyes. “I think you know, Richard.”

Y/N only ever used his full first name to provoke and tease him. And he hated that it worked every single time.

Dick glanced around to see that everyone in their vicinity was eyeing them. Well, they were mostly eyeing him and how it was clear he’d just been fucked in the bathroom.

He stepped close to her and lowered his voice, “Ohhh, I see how it is.” His eyes flickered down to her lips for a split second. “If a guy does that, he’s jealous and possessive. But if a woman does it, it’s sexy…”

Y/N proudly smiled like the cheshire cat. “Exactly.”

Something over his shoulder caught her attention. “Oh, I see Tim. I’m going to go say hi.”

Without hesitation, she brushed past him.

Dick let his head fall, put his hands on his hips, and laughed.

He’d pay her back later tonight. And by ‘pay her back,’ he would just tell her how incredibly hot her behavior had been and basically invite her to do it whenever she damn well pleased.

Dick felt a presence beside him, and he didn’t have to raise his head to know it was Bruce.

“Hey,” Dick greeted him nonchalantly.

“You have lipstick all over your neck,” Bruce told him as he took a sip of his drink and looked around the party. “And your zippers down.”

“Sure is,” Dick sighed.

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

OK. This was way too fun to write. 

Let me know what you think!!!

ALL BONUS CONTENT CAN BE FOUND: HERE

#all men have limits #AMHL bonus content #make a scene extension #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson reader insert #nightwing x reader #nightwing reader insert #jason todd and platonic!reader #jason todd x platonic!reader #batfam #batboys #bruce wayne x platonic!reader #bruce wayne and reader

[sleeping-lilies]

Title: I Get Tim a Cat Because It’s What He Deserves (oh and i guess a group chat 🙄)

a batfam/wayne family groupchat would literally never happen in canon but it would be so fucking funny you all don’t even know, so i will do it anyways.

the chat just kinda... starts. no one know where it came from. who added them. who??? none of their emotionally stunted asses would be caught dead making making a family chat tf? why can’t any of them leave? they smash their phones and then on their laptop a notification pops up like “you’ve joined ‘x’ group” and they’re stuck there. might as well use it ig, but for what???

“everyone who is alive type ‘i’” no one responds so bruce spends hours trying to find out where their bodies are until he finds out everyone just had the chat on mute

“why isn’t alfred on here” “huh. alfred isn’t on here and no one knows who made the chat?” “so whoever made it just left immediately?” “...” “lol anyways”

tim was trying to send a snap to the core four gc but accidentally sent it to the family chat and gets super embarrassed (of course this happens when everyone’s online why wouldn’t they if it makes tim’s life more difficult) and everyone makes fun of him. duke printed out copies and plastered them all over tim’s apartment while tim was out for something and tim nearly murders duke. after that no one puts the chat on mute because this was too funny.

no one actually, like, texts on a regular basis because they’re not like other families 🙄 they only text if it’s really important or someone’s dying.

that’s being said, “dick where is dog” “send doggy” “dog?” “send doggy” “dick when did you get a dog?” “SEND DOGGY” “i demand you send the dog this instant” “dog now.”

damian breaks into dick’s apartment to take a selfie with him and haley (or bitewing, haley is just shorter to type) captioned “she is mine this is a warning to all of you. i will not hesitate if any of you low lives come near her.” and dick is like “??? this is my dog i can’t have anything these days, siblings take everything, man—” oh ya, everyone reacts to the haley photo with a heart. also dick only lets this shit slide with damian, if jason the problem child pulled this shit it would be on sight lmfaooo

- tim: the dog is cute but, but in photography i learned you have to crop out everything unimportant, like this *crops out damian from the photo*

- in other news, tim joined the dead bats club and now only bruce and duke are left 😃🔪

bruce: check in if you are alive. *everyone’s status is online*

u don’t know about y’all, but my bruce wayne is a responsible father who keeps an eye on his kids, or at least does his best, “has anyone seen duke? he has school and i can’t find him” “i will find him... if you give me $50.” “i will give you the money jason just tell me where he is” jason sends a photo of himself and duke laying down on the floor eating pop tarts.

-“literally why do you all keep coming into my apartment” “our apartment, dick” “i pay for this apartment it’s mine, i keep living in blüdhaven for a reason, god, siblings always steal everything that’s your’s—” it’s ok guys dick simultaneously has eldest daughter’s syndrome and absent sibling syndrome, who is doing it like him? legend behavior. anyways, duke and jason left crumbs on the floor and dick beat them up lmao.

“can i have money” “dad” (theyre sent by same person just different text) “yes cass i will sent you as much as you need, $2,000 is enough for shipping with friends?” “dad can i have money too” “dad can i too” “may i have some too dad” “dad” “dad” fhdjdjsks they only call him dad when they’re dying, want something, or are tattling on each other, someone save him 😩

“@everyone the interviewer in the last segment asked me if we have a family chat and i have a feeling they will try to pry into my texts to see what we are texting, please actually send something so they don’t get even more nosy from our lack of communicating” *someone sends the bee movie script*

ok but like, as time goes on they get more comfy texting each other and acting like a normal(ish) family unit that texts a little more. like tattling.

“someone broke the vase in the hallway and if they don’t want me to tell pennyworth who did it they will buy alfred the cat a new scratching post by nightfall” damian is so funny i love him

“HELPPVHRNXKAK” “what’s up with jason?” “cass is sitting on him” “lol” “i think she’s gonna break his arm fhdjdksk” “ANDBSJ I HAT E YO U A LL” “when did you all come to the manor???”

“😂” bruce vs “lol” dick and cass vs “agdhsjak” tim and duke vs “hA” jason vs “i don’t find any of you funny” damian

“damian i am putting your lemon cake pop thingies in the last bottom shelf on the right, i put the code and everything in the safe” “how often does damian even come to your apartment, dick?” “whenever you’re being an asshole bruce” “he’s always an asshole dickhead 🙄” “exactly 🥰”

“dad guess what” “TIM NOOO” “remember when” “TIM TIM TIM” “you told duke to take the day shift” “I WILL NEVER POST YOUR SNAP PHOTOS TO A GROUPCHAT WITH THE ENTIRE SUPERHERO COMMUNITY AGAIN!!!” “and he agreed to if he did his school work first?” “MERCY, MERCY” “what did he do, tim” “fjdjxkskkz duke goes on school zoom meetings during patrol and pretends he doesn’t have a mic and camera and i was watching his helmet footage and it was so funny, the teachers just believe him when he pretends to have really bad network and can barely type in the chat” “my teachers never trusted me that much” “that’s because you made a kid cry once jason stfu” “wait how did u know that cass—“

“AHDBSNZKAJHF” “stfu duke” “what’s wrong with him where is he?” “cain came to visit” “ohhhh” “FHDJFJDJ HELLPPPXSND” “i know you’re taking a video, you little shit, send it” “no todd come here and take one yourself—or don’t, your presence is unwanted” “fucking brat”

“DAD DICK HIT ME” “DAD JASON’S LYING” *bruce wayne online* (he doesn’t fucking respond fhsjskla) (is it because he’s exasperated with them or crying because they called him dad even though it’s a manipulation tactic or both we’ll never know)

“everyone who is alive, type in chat” *everyone is online* then bruce edits the message to say ‘everyone who wants alfred’s cinnamon rolls, type in chat’ “i guess NO ONE wants alfred’s cinnamon rolls, how sad” and the entire chat goes wild lmfao

ok uhhh let’s do on a scale of 1-10 texts most vs is online the most

bruce: 6-texting, 5.9-online because he always makes an effort to text his kids to check up on them and when his kids are texting he will text as well here and there in the convo to interact with them because he never sees and interacts with them normally and he wants to do better 🥲. he get’s minus 0.1 because of that one time jason and dick were fighting and he logged off agdhsjnz

dick: 3-texting, 3.5-online because he’s the only one in this hellhole of a family that has an actual job (in this house we uphold gymnastics teacher grayson 🙏) and sometimes he won’t have energy to text. so. but he does make an effort when he can. he’s online more than he texts because he’s able to sneak looks at the fights when he has downtime during his job and wants to see the drama lmfaooo. also everything goes on in his fucking apartment for some reason, so now he gotta break up a (one sided) fight between cass and tim because someone has to be a responsible adult.

cass: 2-texting, 10-online because she watches more than she texts? she’s more content to watch what’s going on than to join in. also 8/10 she’s usually the one causing the drama that everyone’s texting about, like beating up the others, so she can’t text while beating them up. i mean she could, but she wants to put more energy in beating them up (lovingly) (cass is basically violence (loving)) and watching what everyone’s saying about her fights. she’s always online to catch a glimpse at the drama. also most of her texts are to dick to see bitewing. and ask for money.

jason: texting-8, online-4 because if cass is the one causing drama offline, jason’s causing drama online. jason wants to be chat cryptic but texts the most lmfaoooo. he’s antagonizing his siblings whenever he sees them and whenever he can’t, king shit. he’s online less because he deadass doesn’t care that much, he’ll read the texts later if he really wants to, otherwise either duke or tim will fill him in on the drama. (“jason ur in the chat too—“ “shut up, tim, now tell me how cass beat damian’s ass)

tim: texting-6.44444, online-10, see tim texts a lot just not to the family group chat lmfao, he has REAL FRIENDS 😤 uhh ya, that’s why he’s online all the time, cuz he’s either texting his friends or on his phone doing some shit. broke: tim stays up late working on cases, woke: tim stays up late texting his friends and playing video games over chat. tim just. interacts with his family, gets bullied by them, ya. that’s the life. also he and duke keep throwing hands because it’s the family curse to beat up tim and in this essay i will discuss how dick is the superior sibling because he never tried to kill tim—wait he probably pushed him down the stairs once nvm but it was totally justified, king

duke: texting-4, online-4 because he has, like, school. and daytime patrol. and is like a junior in high school and therefore has a fuck ton of homework. my boy has no time for family and he doesn’t want it because they’re annoying, obviously 🙄. if he wants drama he’ll go into damian’s room and get the drama. diy icon. he’s online as much as he texts but is so fast of a reader he’ll know the drama in time for the next episode of wayne family shit. most of his time online is picking fights with tim and roasting his siblings to a crisp. he’s so mean, guys, legend has it that one time duke told jason that his helmet looked like a shriveled up dildo and that it could never be the gay statement he wanted it to be jason went offline for that entire day in order to cry himself to sleep. at least he got sleep (allegedly) ayyy duke the problem solver.

damian: texting-1.5, online 2 because the only time he’s texting is to ask dick for photos of bitewing and to send photos of his pets back as proper payment. a negotiator ugghhh father like son. damian honestly doesn’t care about the drama he just wants to sketch bitewing (using the photos dick sent as reference) into the Family Portrait Sketch™️ of the rest of the Animal Family™️. it is an honor for damian to create such a piece, picasso the women hater quakes in his grave as such art that blows his dog shit “art” FAR out of the water is developing. anyways, he goes online for that and to throw random barbs at his siblings. like no one is online and damian just throws a “drake is stupid” in chat and just dips. he’s online more to text the other teen titans and jon because they’re better than his dumbass family (and he texts grayson on messenger so fhdjdjsks) true chat cryptic, jason envies him

alfred: 0-texting, 10-online. huh who said that

“duke take down the tik toks, tim is crying”

“who has my sweatshirt??? i will kill you all” “i have it jason” “nvm cass that’s your sweatshirt now i’m sorry for being presumptuous don’t aTTACK ME” fhdjdjsks

“guys i have the day off do you want to hear when delilah said to jonathon it’s so funny” “are those the kids in your gymnastics class?” “ya” “tell us everything”

the bats just... love hearing drama about those kids because they’re so dramatic. apparently alex threw a rubber ball at maya and she tackled them. wild.

time for a round of: WHO SAID IT?!?!

“how do i make my text bold like the rest of you?” —bruce, dick, cass, and jason at some point.

“how do i change my screen name? please change it back to before” -cass when tim changed her name to “hal jordon #1 stan” (“what is a stan” —bruce), (“i don’t like it either change it back” —bruce after finding out what a stan is)

“what the fuck is a pog” —jason

“fucking ‘tik tok’. we used to use vine when i was a teen. i was a front line soldier of great disasters” —dick on one hand lmfao dick is so old but on the other hand holy shit you used vine??? tell us more about the battles fought

“what is a dilf?” —bruce after scrolling through twitter

ok that’s all, my brain is gone.

“cass dick is turning purple get off him” “no. make him give me my scarf back.” “oh dad that’s terrible can you send a video as evidence?”

“GUYS I FOUND A CAT AND IT SCRATCHED ME AND IM GOING TO THE HOSPITAL BUT GUYS!!! CAT!!!” “drake send a photo of the cat immediately” lmfao bruce zooms to the hospital after that text

“GUYS THE CAT HAS AN OWNER I CANT KEEP THE CAT 🥲” “the one time you could prove to be of use and you fail, drake.” “wow tim, find a cat to steal without an owner next time” “timmy, timmy, timmy, i can’t believe you’ve messed up in finding a cat again” “again?” “again?” “again?” “when i adopt a cat i’m not showing any of you, i hate you all” (lmao hard version of guess who is who i’ll give you a hint dick cass and bruce are the confused ones. )ok it’s not hard anymore.

“dad please get me a cat 😳🐱 haha jk 🤣😩 unless 👀😏😃🙏🥰” anyways tim named the cat starry because of her fur-hair-thingy

“they just so you all know steph just crashed in my apartment and i have work in the morning” “i will pick her up in the morning” “you mean tim will, you don’t have a license, cass. anyways”

“dick do you need help moving?” “no, bruce, i think i can handle it, donna and wally are helping me anyways, but thank you” “mOVING???” “OUT OF YOUR APARTMENT???” “DICK THAT SAME APARTMENT ON 666 HELLHOLE AVENUE???” “...ya?” “NOOOOO” anyways they all break into dick’s new apartment when he moves in, walk around it, and then leave. they just... ya... damn, these bats...

anyways that’s all. see ya.

#dbsjxjjs the batkids just have an attachment to dick’s apartment #the batkids: sir thats my emotional support apartment you can’t just move #fuck you all damian is very well versed in internet culture he just chooses to not use it #dick was around in the time of VINE. YALL. #the fact that dick is the only one with like a normal job fjsjsks #he’s the only one that does his taxes too besides bruce #bruce trying his best and that’s all i will accept. i love him. #jason: wannabe cryptic vs damian: cryptic king. #cass just. beats up her brothers because she can. she deserves it too. #tim deserves nice things so i gave him a cat. #duke is so funny i love him. #he’s like “time to fuck up tim’s life again heheheh” #duke is literally 16? a teen? he’s mean by default thats it #dc comics #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #cassandra cain #jason todd #tim drake #duke thomas #damian wayne #featuring those damn gymnastics kids 😩 #mine

[pawsitivelymiraculous]

Le parfum de l'amour

This is the @maribat-secret-santa-2020 piece for @saltandfluff I am so sorry for being late!

Anyway, I will be using the quantic kids, but you don't necessary have to know them to understand this fic.

The only have to know that "Melodie" is Allegra's nickname.

Ao3

It was always a bad idea to try to mess with fate. Everyone knew this. Allegra knew this, but she didn't care. Not when it was taking a toll on her sanity.

There were only so many times a person could see two literal soulmates walk past each other before they decided to take matters into their own hands.

So that's what she did.

Or well, was going to do once she could convince her friends to help her out.

"I don't know, Mel." Allan rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "These things take time you know? You cannot rush it." He glanced at the corkboard that was behind Allegra and winced, it was going to be impossible to talk her out of the crazy plan.

On the corkboard, there were two pictures. One was a selfie of Marinette Dupain-cheng. A twenty-year-old who was a regular at the café where Allegra and Claude worked at. After chatting with her in the mornings, Allegra decided to adopt the girl, and she introduced her to the rest of the group. She quickly became friends with Allan and surprisingly enough, with Felix as well.

The second picture was a rather blurry photo that was clearly taken from afar. You could sort of make out the image of Timothy Drake. The sleep-deprived twenty-one-year-old who had started going to the café for about a month. All the employees loved him because he never failed to amuse everyone with his half-asleep antics.

The one thing that both pictures had in common was a coffee cup.

On Marinette's collarbone, there was a small tattoo-like mark that looked like a coffee cup. The same one that was on Tim's wrist. Soul marks . Granted, they looked a bit plain compared to most people's soul marks, but in Allegra's eyes, they were the excuse she needed to get them together.

Allegra had shipped her two favorite customers long before she noticed their soul marks. But now that she knew they were soulmates . Well, she was not going to rest until they finally met.

"I'm not trying to rush things!" Allegra insisted. "I just want to push them in the right direction."

Allan looked at her, doubtful. "That's basically the same thing. Plus do actually think that," he squinted to read the list of plans that was tacked on the corkboard. "'Locking them inside a room with no escape' is merely pushing them in the right direction? 'Cause I think that sounds more like a hostage situation."

Allegra glared at him. "You know what? I don't need your help. Claude will help me. Right, Claude?"

Claude looked at her with wide eyes. "Oh no no no. Sorry Melodie but I can't."

"Uh, I'm sorry what?" Allegra blinked. It was very out of character for Claude to turn down the opportunity to help her with one of her elaborate plans. Not to mention that in this case, they were doing it to help Marinette.

"Allegra," he said solemnly, "this is a destiny thing. We just can't interfere."

Allegra facepalmed. "You can't be serious."

Claude looked at her dead in the eye. "If we interfere we might end up," he leaned towards  her and whispered " cursed"

"Oh give me a break." Allegra pushed Claude away. "Are you guys kidding me? This is Marinette we're talking about. You all can't possibly think that Marinette wouldn't want to meet her soulmate, and as her friends, we have to help her."

"I agree with Allegra."

Everyone spun around in surprise.

Felix rolled his eyes at his friends' incredulous expressions. "What? Marinette is my friend as well. Is it really that shocking that I want to see her happy?" The three of them nodded. He ignored them. "Besides, I've heard Marinette ramble about soulmates nonstop, so it's clear that meeting hers is what she would want."

Allegra was the first to react "See guys? Even Felix agrees with me!"

Felix huffed. "Yes, but I also think that your plans are ridiculous and ineffective."

"Ouch"

"I think the best thing we can do to help is to get them to interact and we-"

"That's literally what my plans are for!" Allegra interrupted.

Claude crossed his arms. "And what do you mean by 'we'? I haven't agreed to do anything."

Shooting both of them a glare, Felix continued. "- can do that without needing to kidnap them. We simply have to make it so that they have no other choice but to sit at the same table at the café. You all know how friendly Marinette is, it will only be a matter of time before they start talking."

There was a beat of silence.

"That… that might actually work," Allan admitted. "Soulmates are naturally drawn to each other so once they actually have a conversation we won't have to do anything else. They can figure out that they're soulmates by themselves." He paused and then chuckled. "We'll just have to push them in the right direction."

"But how are we going to get them in the café at the same time?" Allegra asked. "Tim always comes in right after Mari has left."

"Pft that's easy!" Claude exclaimed. "Just tell her that you need help with something and that you'll need for her to stay a while longer at the café. Since Mari doesn't have early classes on Wednesday she'll agree and- oh!" Claude suddenly slapped his hand over his mouth as his eyes widened with horror. "This does not mean that I'm helping." He mumbled from underneath his hand.

Allan laughed. "I think you just did."

"Looks like someone's going to end up cursed." Allegra singed songed. "Not even ladybug is going to be able to help you with that bad luck that's to come." She teased.

Claude pouted. "Haha, laugh all you want." He then looked up at the corkboard and grimaced. "But you're right, there's no turning back now. What do you need me to do?"

Allegra clapped her hands in glee.

"Okay so here's the plan."

~♡~♡~♡~

Just like Claude had predicted, it was incredibly easy to convince Marinette to stay at the café. All that was left to do was orchestrate everything just so that the two soulmates had to sit at the same table.

It was easier said than done but after enlisting more people to help out, they were able to make sure that the café was full for that morning.

Everything was going according to plan…

Until…

"WHERE. IS. TIM?"

Claude looked around. "He hasn't arrived yet?"

"No!" Allegra cried. She glanced down at her watch and winced. They were running out of time.

Claude frowned. "And you know, it would have been nice if Marinette hadn't chosen today to wear a turtleneck."

Allegra couldn't help but agree. Sure, Marinette looked amazing with the turtleneck and skirt outfit but did she really have to wear it today? When they needed for her to show off her soul mark?

It was like the universe was against them.

But finally, Allegra heard a tinkling sound at the door. She spun around praying that it was Tim.

And it was!

He looked more tired than usual as he stumbled around trying to find a seat.

Allegra watched as Tim danced around the tables that were being occupied just as he was about to take a seat.

One after the other until finally, a good push later, he ended up at Marinette's table.

~♡~♡~♡~

Tim was too tired to deal with this.

All he wanted was to sit down, have a couple of cups of coffee at his favorite coffee shop and finally be awake enough to continue investigating the moth guy.

But apparently, that was too much to ask because almost all the tables were full.

"Sorry man," Claude whispered as he guided a couple and motioned them to sit at the table that Tim had beelined for.

"Oh, actually I'm waiting for Adam." Felix had said when Tim asked if he could sit with him. Which was strange since Adam had said that he was waiting for Felix when he asked him.

But he could barely comprehend what they were saying, so he was not conscious enough to complain.

Tim continued on his journey when he felt someone push him from behind. In his half-asleep haze, Tim lunged at the chair that was in front of him hoping that it would break his fall.

It took him a few seconds to recover. He wanted nothing more than to pass out right then and there, splayed out on a coffee shop chair as everyone stared at him wondering if he was drunk.

He too wondered if he was drunk, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so if he was drunk, he was not going to figure it out on his own.

When he finally looked up, his eyes met with a pair of beautiful bluebell eyes.

~♡~♡~♡~

Marinette watched as a guy stumbled around the café until finally flopping onto the other chair at her table.

It was clear that he was sleep-deprived. She had seen enough videos that her evil friends had taken when she was in a similar state to know the poor guy probably hadn't slept at all for the last week or so.

Marinette wanted nothing more than to drag the guy to the nearest bed or couch and wrap him up in a bunch of blankets. Just because she didn't comprehend the term "self-care" for herself  didn't make Marinette any less of a "mom friend"

But she had to remind herself that she didn't know the guy, so it might be considered kidnapping to drag someone somewhere against their will.

Too bad.

The best she could do was offer him her own coffee.

"Hey, I think you need this more than I do at the moment." She said, pushing the drink his way as he stood up.

He mumbled something that could be interpreted as a "thank you" and eagerly took the drink. His eyes lit up when the heavenly liquid touched his tongue.

It was almost miraculous how quickly the caffeine took effect.

Actually, it was Marinette may or may not have mixed a little concoction she made with Tikki that helped her when she stayed up late with her regular coffee.

The guy blinked. "This. Is. Incredible."

Marinette laughed "Yeah, it's what I always get. Though you still look like you need to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah whatever." He waved her off. "But seriously, what is this called? I need a gallon of this."

"Sorry," Marinette said sheepishly "but I'm afraid that's a secret, you know, I'm kind of everyone's favorite, so I get the miracle coffee." Okay so that was a lie but what else could she say?

The guy pouted. Marinette had to admit that he looked adorable.

"Well, then I'm sure you can get me some then... um"

"Marinette."

"Ah, nice to meet you, coffee goddess, I'm Tim."

Marinette's cheeks heated up. "Uh, coffee goddess? Shouldn't they be the coffee gods and goddesses?" She pointed at Allegra, Claude, and the others.

"Nah, you have blessed me with this amazing coffee. Claude didn't even help me in my time of need."

"You know Claude?" Marinette asked, surprised.

"Yep, I've been coming here since I arrived in Paris, so I've gotten to know Allegra and Claude a bit."

"That's funny, I've never seen you. And I come here every day." Marinette said.

"Huh, that's weird. I've never seen you either. "

And from there they kept talking. Like they were old friends and not just acquaintances. Marinette found out that Tim had come from Gotham city. That he was in Paris because of business. Meanwhile, Tim learned that Marinette was an aspiring fashion designer and a college student who was close friends with almost everyone from the café.

Hours passed and the two were still deep in conversation completely oblivious to the crowd that had gathered behind the cafe's counter to watch the soulmates.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about this before." Adrien, who had arrived after Tim, whispered to his cousin.

"I was under the impression that your father needed your assistance for the upcoming fashion show. I was not about to ask my dear uncle Gabe if I could steal you so that we could set up our friend and his future competitor, Marinette Dupain-cheng, with her soulmate."

Adrien hated to admit that he had a point. "Fine, but can you at least catch me up to date? Who is he?"

"He's a rich guy from Gotham city. He's pretty cool though he's basically Marinette when it comes to coffee which is honestly kinda scary now that I'm seeing them interact." Allegra whispered.

Adrien looked down to look at her. "Alright, I guess I'm going to have to do my own research since you guys are useless. What's his job? Why is he rich? If his from Gotham then who knows, maybe this guy is actually dangerous and wants to take Marinette as ransom for-"

"Oh please Adrien, stop with your theatrics. Do you honestly think that I would allow this if he was dangerous?" Felix interrupted.

"I mean-"

Felix glared at him.

"No?"

Felix sighed. "Timothy Drake is Marinette's soulmate, and I can assure you that he's clean. So don't worry about Marinette."

Allegra shushed the cousins. "Guys, I'm trying to listen here you know?"

"Um, you could probably hear better from up here" Felix nodded in agreement.

"Thanks, Adrien, but I don't want to risk Marinette seeing me and then remembering about time and stuff."

"Ah"

"Speaking of time, it's been years since I last ate, I'm hungry." Claude cut in.

"Claude! You're supposed to be with the customers!" Allegra whisper-shouted.

"Whoops."

~♡~♡~♡~

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. Marinette eventually remembered the reason she had stayed in the cafe. Not only that but when she looked at her watch she realized that she was running late for class.

After Marinette's rushed exit, Tim went back to investigating Hawkmoth. But while they were trying to concentrate on their own thing. Marinette with her class and Tim with his research they found themselves zoning out and thinking about each other.

It was strange, they had quite literally just met.

Why had they made such an impact on each other?

~♡~♡~♡~

It wasn't until Marinette was getting ready to go to bed that she found the answer.

"Tikki is… is that what I think it is." Marinette's voice trembled as she stared at her reflection on the mirror.

Tikki gasped. "Oh Marinette, I think it is!"

Staring back at her was her soul mark, which no longer was a regular coffee cup but rather a gorgeous cup with beautiful red flowers that surrounded a somewhat familiar symbol.

"But, how? I mean they're not supposed to change… right? And why?" Marinette's eyes widened. "Does this mean that I met my soulmate? Who is it?"

Tikki giggled, "You seriously don't know?"

"Umm no? Should I?" Tikki continued to giggle as her holder looked at her confused. "Who is it Tikki?"

"Oh Marinette, how many new people did you meet today?"

"Uh, I don't know? I mean surely I must've passed by lots of strangers in the street." Marinette panicked. "Oh no Tikki! What if one of them is my soulmate? I'll never find out who they are!"

"So you don't remember meeting anyone else?"

"I don't think so, well other than ohhh- "

"Exactly"

~♡~♡~♡~

Tim could not believe what he was seeing. Gone was the plain coffee cup he was used to seeing, the daily reminder of the fact that he was still painfully single, it now had an intricate flower pattern that surrounded a symbol.

He recognized that symbol.

After weeks of researching and tailing the red Parisian heroine, he knew that it was the Ladybug symbol.

But why was it on his soul mark?

Unless…

No, the heroine couldn't be his soulmate, Tim hasn't even officially met her. Nor had he even seen her today.

The only blue-eyed girl he had met was Marinette.

Marinette  

No, it was impossible. Except it wasn't. Tim had only known the girl for a couple of hours, but he knew that  Marinette would make a great heroine or vigilante.

But, he… he was probably hallucinating, right? Tim hadn't slept for weeks, so surely he was just seeing things and his soul mark was still a plain coffee cup and the Marinette conclusion was just wishful thinking.

Right?

Because otherwise, his first meeting with his soulmate was him acting like a sleep-deprived zombie and Tim could not allow that.

Well, one thing was for sure, he really needed to get some sleep.

~♡~♡~♡~

Three days.

It took three days for Marinette to find Tim.

She looked everywhere. The coffee shop, Le Grand Paris Hotel, the tourist areas, and when she was ladybug she looked down from all the rooftops trying to find him.

But he had vanished, leaving Marinette worried sick that he had either A. Gone back to Gotham  B. Died or C. Been so horrified that she was his soulmate that he decided to move to a remote island and changed his name in hopes of never seeing her again.

Gosh, she was starting to sound like her fourteen-year-old self.

But finally, she saw him, sitting on a bench, not far from her own home, looking down at his wrist.

He looked at his wrist like it was some puzzle he needed to solve. Marinette also noticed that he looked a lot more refreshed, so he must've finally gotten some sleep.

Marinette cleared her throat. "Well, you've been a very hard person to find Mr. Drake."

Tim looked up. "Ma- Marinette!"

"We need to talk."

Tim nodded his mouth hanging wide open as he stared at her soul mark.  

"How do you feel about coffee? There's a coffee shop that's not very far from here, I hear their coffee is divine.

~♡~♡~♡~

Bonus:

(this was going to be a scene on the fic but I didn't know how to add it but it has important info sooo)

*They are at the coffee shop*

Marinette: So you're red robin.

Tim: And you're Ladybug

Marinette: Should I be worried? Like doesn't this compromise our secret identities?

*Claude and Allegra appear with some pastries*

Claude: Yooo Marinette! So you found your soulmate! Crazy right? We totally didn't have anything to do with it!

*Allegra elbows him*

Claude: So uh, congratulations! I um feel happy for you.

*looks nervously at Allegra who is glaring at him*

Claude: Bummer about the soul mark though…

*Allegra keeps glaring*

~♡~♡~♡~ Permanent tag list  ~♡~♡~♡~

Claude: What? It's just a plain white cup!

Bonus bonus:

(here's a bad doodle and my crappy handwriting)

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

@charme-de-malchan, @theatreandcomicfreak, @m3owww, @elliebelliegirl, @genevieve-the-demonologist, @vixen-uchiha, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @waffleyunsure, @technicallyburninggarden, @azuremayscarlet, @vroomtaka, @emimar7, @ichigorose, @maskedpainter, @art-is-hard-to-do-sorry

#maribat #timari #tim x marinette #maribat secret santa #ml x dc #mlb x dc #quantic kids #My writing #my trash writing #my art #my trash art

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

One Photo → Mark Lee [1]

↳  Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳  AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳  Word count: 4,863

↳  Chapters: Prelude | You Are Here! | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

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

MONDAY - 1

Your heart was pounding a million miles a minute as you stepped into your photoshoot studio on campus two weeks later, ready to see a bunch of other students preparing for interviews for the same position. Surprisingly, you were the only one present besides your teacher. She smiled and approached. “Hey,” she greeted you with a short handshake. “I see you’re nervous?” “A little,” you admit, returning her friendly grin. “I’m surprised nobody else is here.” She hummed. “Well, there was a lot to choose from. Come on. This one, I believe, is a little special compared to the others.” “How so?” Your voice was laced with curiosity as she led you further in, past the background sheets that separate the room into two halves. Behind it were people you had only dreamed of seeing in person.

The three of them stood as soon as they lay eyes on you. Johnny, Mark, and Jaehyun. You were completely frozen, staring at them and nearly forgetting to breathe. The thought of the members interviewing you themselves had never even entered your brain.

Your teacher placed a hand on your shoulder, startling you. Without a word, she smiled at you, nodded at them and left the room. Once the door shut with a soft click, Mark approached you. “Hi, I’m Mark Lee,” he held out his hand. “You probably knew that, considering your expression.” He laughed sweetly. You barely held out your hand with a shy nod, “I’m (Y/N).” Instead of going through with the handshake, Mark immediately moves in to engulf you in a friendly hug. “It’s nice to meet you,” you mumbled into the hug, barely processing that you were actually hugging Mark Lee and were in the same five-foot radius as three members of NCT. Johnny and Jaehyun also hugged you tightly, insisting that you join them at the table your teacher had set up for them.

“I thought I would be more prepared,” you admitted softly, digging into your backpack and pulling out your portfolio of projects and random photos you’ve taken. Mark takes it first to open and look through. “I’ve been a fan since your debut.” 

Johnny smiled. “Then you’re just the person we’re looking for,” he said. He glances over at your portfolio, then back to you. “The truth is, we aren’t looking for a professional like a lot of others in this program. We bring our own from our company.” Your knit your eyebrows together in confusion. “Then why sign up? If, um, you don’t mind me asking.” 

Jaehyun looked up from browsing your portfolio with Mark. “We were looking to take one photo.” He held up his index finger. “We wanted to have a friend that’s from around here to help us find the perfect spot, and photographers always know the best places.” Your eyes widened. A friend? Did he really just say that? “Just one photo?” You decided to ask, the whole prospect of clarifying what Jaehyun meant by ‘friend’ was a little too overwhelming.

The three of them nodded. “We want just one photo for our dorm. This stop is important to us, and we want this to stay away from social media. It’s just going to be for us. And for you, for your project, of course,” Mark explained. “We don’t want someone that is too professional and we don’t want a fansite to take it. It seemed to us that a friend would be the best choice.” He smiled gently at you. “We’ll provide you with a ticket and backstage pass, as well as paying you based on the program’s price for the photo to be touched up and framed.” 

You tripped over your words. “Well, I… I don’t think I’m in a position to turn you down, but…” Johnny cocked his head to the side. “But..?” 

You gulped and sheepishly avoided eye contact. “I can’t speak Korean,” you mumble, fiddling with your fingers. Mark smiled sweetly at you. “That’s okay. We’ll translate for you. So, what do you think? Would you like to spend a day with us before our show?” 

You smiled, deciding to be a bit more daring. They did say, friend. “You’re asking that like there’s even a shred of a chance I’d say no.” 

All three of them grin. “Thank you, I was hoping you would say yes,” Mark says. “Your portfolio is stunning.”

Your face goes red and you're barely conscious enough to stand with them as they prepare to leave. Johnny and Jaehyun hug you again, praising your work before taking their leave, but Mark doesn't join them.

“Our manager has your teacher's contact information, but I want to involve the company as little as possible… if it's not too sudden, could I please have your number?” Mark smiles sheepishly, offering his unlocked phone to you, open to a new contact page. It's as if he has no idea of the impact he has on his fans. Sometimes you forget that NCT is made up of normal humans, and the one standing in front of you is a year younger than you are. 

“Of course,” you take it gently and add your contact info, taking a quick selfie to add as your little profile picture, all while Mark watches you searchingly. “Here you are,” you hand his phone back, hesitating on saying what you were thinking, “since you want to be friends, feel free to text me.” 

Mark takes his phone back with a smile, sending you a quick smiley face to make sure the number was correct. The room is silent for a moment, your face feels as if it's on fire and Mark returns the stare you gave him when you walked in.

“Come on, Mark!” you hear Johnny’s voice from outside the classroom and you both turn toward it. You smile sheepishly.

“I shouldn't keep you, should I?” you ask, voice soft and a little embarrassed.

“No, but I wish I had more time. I'll text you, I promise,” he says, hugging you once more before leaving you alone and speechless. 

You wondered if all fan interactions were like the one you just experienced. You were aware the members of NCT were known to be humble and kind, but they were much calmer and affectionate than you expected. The idea that you just saw Mark's smile in person made your own cheesy grin spread across your face as you packed up your portfolio. 

After class, you headed back to your dorm, a skip in your step. Once you opened the door and stepped inside, you felt like you could collapse. Fatigue washed over you like a tidal wave, and you knew it was time for an afternoon nap. Rhiannon was still in her lab, so you could grab at least 20 minutes of shut-eye before she would come back and beg for you to make dinner. You set your bag down by the door with your shoes and set a course for your bed. As soon as you were able to slide underneath the covers and nearly drift to sleep, your phone vibrated.

You reach into your pocket, confused. Rhiannon was the only friend that had your number, and if she even thought about her phone in a lab, she would be kicked out. Once you unlock your phone, you finally remembered who else you gave your number to.

Mark: Hey!

You licked your lips as your chest twinged and filled with butterflies. You screamed internally for a few seconds, the moment hitting you a little harder than before. Mark Lee had your cell phone number and he was texting you first. 

You: Hello, what’s up?

Mark replied almost immediately, which startled you a little bit. You turned over in your bed to get a little more comfortable.

Mark: We were just finishing up settling into our hotel rooms. I wanted to know how you're doing, are you in class? I hope I'm not interrupting anything

You: No, I got home a little while ago. I was gonna take a nap tbh

Mark: Oh! Sorry, I don't mean to take away sleep from a college student

You smiled a little bit. He was too sweet. As if your nap wasn't going to ruin your sleep schedule.

You: Its fine, if I had a nap I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight anyway

Mark: So you're free then?

Your eyebrows furrowed as you typed your response.

You: Uh yeah, why? Did you all want that picture now?

You put your phone down, a little overwhelmed. If they wanted it now, you wouldn't see them again until the concert, which wasn't until Friday. Perhaps you should have expected they wanted to do this as fast as possible, their Canadian and Chicago stops were planned with vacations in mind considering Johnny and Mark's heritage. When your phone buzzed again, you almost jumped to grab it.

Mark: Well no not yet. I was just wondering if you wanted to get coffee or something. Or tea if you prefer that 

Your eyes widened.

You: Really?

Mark: Yeah. I dunno, I want to take the friend thing more serious than the guys. They just wanted to use that word so it was like an unspoken contract that you wouldn't post this everywhere y'know? 

Your heart sank a little bit, but you could see how important privacy was. If you were in the same position, you would have done the same.

You: I understand… I'm still kind of a stranger though, are you sure?

Mark: That's why I'm asking. I don't want you to be. So, will you meet me?

You: There's a Tim Hortons on the first floor of M building near where you met me on campus, I can be there in 40 minutes 

Mark: See you in 40 minutes then :)

As soon as you read that text, you tossed your comforter to the side and raced into the bathroom. You fix your hair and could barely decide whether to change your outfit or not. He did see you earlier today, would he think you were trying too hard if you changed? 

“Keep it together, (Y/N),” you told yourself, patting your cheeks with your hands as you eyed your complexion in the mirror. “He just wants tea and coffee, nothing major.” 

Just then, the front door opened. “Are you talking to yourself again?” Rhiannon called from the foyer.

“No,” you called back, clearly lying as you took one more scan of yourself in the mirror before leaving to greet your friend. “You’re back early. How was the lab?”

“Tiring,” she answered. “My bitch lab partner came in even earlier than usual to make sure I didn't have the chance to set up our station again.” She rolled her eyes and dropped her backpack next to yours. 

“Yikes,” you reply, watching her wander into the kitchen. “Are you gonna tell your professor that she is trying to sabotage your grade?” 

Rhiannon sighed. “I don't know if the following shitstorm would be worth it,” she says, plugging in the electric kettle. “I'm gonna make some tea, you want any?”

You shook your head, even though she probably couldn't see you from the wall separating the kitchen and foyer. “No thanks, I'm going out to Tim's in M building.” 

Rhiannon took less than a second to appear in the archway to stare at you. “Why?” She questioned, squinting at you. 

“Mark asked me to meet him for coffee.” 

“Mark,” she repeated, crossing her arms. “I thought you hated Mark Davids.” 

“Not that asshole,” you shot back. “Mark Lee.” You began to look for a pair of cuter shoes as Rhiannon’s eyes widened.

“You got the job?!” She exclaimed, her voice nearly reaching a squeal. "YOU MET MARK LEE? WITHOUT ME?!"

“Yeah,” you smile sheepishly, taken aback by her shouting. you picked out your favourite pair of shoes, red converse high tops. “He just seems like he wants to hang out right now though.”

“Oh my God,” her voice nearly lowered to a whisper. “Mark Lee just asked you out.”

You rolled your eyes. “He didn't ask me out, he just wants to talk,” you explain, pulling on your shoes to tie them. 

“I dunno, he could be it,” she says, waltzing back into the kitchen. “You never know!”

You sigh. “See you later!” 

“Tell him to get Haechan's number!”

After a 15-minute subway ride and a lot of hurried walking, you hauled open the pristine doors of M building, the newest addition to your college campus. Right before you was a little Tim Hortons with a tiny student’s lounge to accompany it. There was a little bit of a line to the micro cafe since night classes were starting up around now, but the student’s lounge was close to empty. 

You took in a deep breath, fully stepping inside and beginning your search for Mark. It doesn’t take long to spot him, he’s sporting yellow hair and a white face mask, accompanied by two red Tim Hortons cups at a table in the corner of the lounge. It takes you a moment to fathom your position - about to meet someone you’ve been crushing on for months through a computer screen for coffee in a lounge at your college. On top of that- he’s already bought you something.

“Hi,” you meekly greet him, approaching the table. Mark looks up from his phone and his eyes immediately crease into the crescents of his beautiful smile.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” He pulls his mask off, “sit down, I, uh, got you some tea. You kind of struck me as that kind of person, so I hope I got it right.” 

“Thank you, Mark. You really didn’t have to buy me anything…” You smile nervously, your face feeling hot and your heart beating a mile a minute. Mark seemed a little nervous, just like you. It was a sobering moment, taking the cup he pushed toward you and opening it to take a sip. Your eyes widened. Your tea was exactly the way you always order it, nearly to the grain of sugar.

Mark watches your expression, happy that you seemed to like your tea, “I wanted to treat you. I know how weird this must all seem for you, but for some reason, I feel like I know you.” He runs his hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact for a moment. 

You look away from him as well. There's a moment of silence between you, the bustle of students slowly diminishing as the sun sets behind you. 

“I, uh, can't really relate to you in that way,” you whisper after you worked up the courage to break the silence. “A lot of your life is on display.” 

“You're right,” Mark agreed. “There are a few things I keep to myself, though,” he smiled cheerfully. “But what I mean is hard to explain.”

Curious, you nod toward him, “try me.”

“When I was standing in line, I was trying to figure out what to get you. I wanted to treat you since I asked you to come, and I kind of expected for you to say no since your professor said you had class today and-”

“Mark, it’s fine, stay focused.” you smile faintly at him and wait for him to continue, sipping your tea again.

He blushes and nods sheepishly. “When it was my turn, I got what I wanted and the second I thought about you, I recited medium steeped orange pekoe tea with two cream and one and a half sugar like I had been getting it for you for years.” He stops for a moment, presumably watching your stunned reaction.

Your breathing was feeling a little crooked, and you couldn't quite place what you were feeling. You tried to take in a deep breath, shaking your head when Mark began to look concerned. 

“Sorry,” you apologize quickly. “I, uh, kind of know what you're talking about. This is all just a little; I don't know…”

“Overwhelming?” Mark finished, nodding his head. “I can't stop thinking about it.” 

You tried to smile. “I guess you gave the bug to me,” you joke. “Want to get some air?”

“I'd like that.” 

The two of you walked down a path that led off-campus, talking. It was as if the two of you had forgotten your positions in life; Mark a celebrity with his life on a pedestal and you just a fan that forgot how much you really knew about him.

You were rediscovering his cheerful nature, his loud and hearty laughter that was a whole-body endeavour, learning that he plays the guitar, his love of ice cream and sweet things. His favourite colour was blue, and he loved Christmas so much he already had a growing list of things to buy for his friends as gifts.

The sun was nearly hidden behind the hills of the park you wandered into, admiring the newly blossomed cherry trees. You were showing him a small bed of flowers decorated to look like a Canadian flag when Mark asked the dreaded personal question you had been hoping you would never have to answer again.

“How did your parents find out?” His tone was soft, curious. He didn't sound as invasive as others have been in the past, but the question still made you bite your lip to keep from frowning.

“A gang fight,” you answer, bitterly. “My dad punched my mom in the face so hard that day, she needed to go to the ER. It actually took three months for her to figure out why the print of my dad's fist hadn't faded from her cheek.”

Mark didn't speak for a moment. “Was that too much to ask?”

You looked up at him from the flower bed, smiling faintly. He looked good in the final evening glow. “I don't mind that much, but...”

“I'm sorry,” he said, tentatively placing a hand on the small of your back. 

“It's okay,” you start, his sympathy nearly made you melt. The two of you begin walking again, Mark absently running his fingers over cherry petals as you both passed the trees. “I got out of it all pretty quickly. They fought when they were high, and that was almost all the time. Sometimes, I feel scared just thinking about how my life might end up. If any of it is all as real as everyone says it is.”

Mark stares at you, and there is sympathy radiating off of him. He looks like he wants to say something, but he stays quiet.

You hold back a frown and decide to break the silence. “Anyway, how about your parents?” 

“A hug,” he answered, nodding, a smile returning to his face. “it's not the most common first touch in the world, but I hope I find mine the same way.” 

“That does sound nice,” you agree softly.

“I've heard it's all up to fate and magic,” Mark says, charm in his voice. “I've always wanted to believe in that.”

“I'd like to believe in that. Makes life seem a little more bearable. I’ve just always been so cynical through my childhood, so much so that all of my hope for a fairytale ending faded a long time ago. I never really thought that anything good would come out of it. If the universe really wants me to find someone, I guess I can’t really do anything about it.”

Mark smiles, although you can tell he is hiding a smidge of disappointment. “I suppose that's one way to think about it,” he replies. “I just want to know someone so well that I don't have to think twice about it. Like knowing the exact way to cheer them up when they're sad. Like the perfect cup of tea or their favourite stuffed animal. I guess that takes a little bit of magic.” 

You stop in your tracks, thinking about the perfect tea he had given you earlier.

“What's wrong?” Mark stops and turns around when he notices you're not keeping pace.

“Nothing,” you lie with a smile, watching Mark's scepticism through the darkness of night. 

“Okay,” he says softly, looking up at the sky. “I guess it's late, huh?” 

You join him in looking up. If the city wasn't always so lit up, this spot would be perfect for a shot of the starry night sky between the small canopy of cherry trees. “I guess it is.”

“How far away is your dorm? I can walk you,” he suggests, taking your hand. You're frozen, too stunned by the gesture to pull away.

“You don't have to,”

“But I want to,” Mark grins. “It's the one way I can make sure you get back safely.”

“You're too kind…” you pause for a moment. Mark is staring you down, waiting for you to say yes. “I'm not allowed to say no, am I?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Nope. Come on, let's go.” 

Scoffing lightly, you concede and begin walking again. “You can take me to my subway stop and I can tell you which train to take to go back,” you offer, assuming he would need to be back at his hotel before it got too late at night. 

“No,” he said quickly. Your eyes widened at his tone and once he noticed your reaction, he lowered his voice. “I just… have these gut feelings. I'd like to escort you right to your dorm,” he clears his throat, “um, if I'm not crossing any lines.” 

You feel sympathy for him. Just looking at Mark, you can tell he's worried about you, but you can't quite see the reason. “Okay,” you agree softly. 

It's silent for a while as you both walk through the well-lit city. It's not until you pass a food truck on the way to the subway station that either of you says something again.

“You know, you and I walked around that park for hours and we didn't even know how late it was until the last minute,” Mark comments, still holding your hand and pulling back gently to keep you from walking past him. 

“Yeah, you're right,” you blush, you had to admit to yourself that you hadn't lost yourself in conversation or such comfortable silence like that even on a date. "We forgot to eat. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” Mark admits with a laugh, “and these hot dogs smell good.” 

You look up at him. “I'll buy.” You wriggle your hand out of his grasp and run toward the cart before Mark can catch you, readying your wallet. 

“Two hot dogs please, one with relish and one plain, please. Also, burn the plain one a little bit, thanks.” 

“You're slippery,” Mark says, watching you pay for the food.

“You bought me tea, it's only fair,” you stick your tongue out at him. He sighs and nods at you, only breaking his gaze when the man at the cart hands down the hot dogs a few moments later. “The one with relish is yours. You hate ketchup, right?” 

Mark takes his hot dog, eyes wide. “Uh, yeah,” he pauses. “I just haven't really told anyone outside the guys and my family.” 

You're halfway through a bite of your ‘dog and you nearly choke on it. 

“Hey, hey!” Mark reaches out for your shoulder, hoping that you wouldn't pass out. “Chew and swallow! Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out.” 

You swallow and cough, shaking your head. “Don't worry, I'm fine,” you say. “This is just a weird feeling.” 

He nods. “Yeah. But I don't really mind it. Come on, let's walk some more.” 

It was totally surreal to you, walking and eating with Mark. He was right, there was this strange feeling washing over you every time you looked at him, different than watching him on a Vlive broadcast or music video. Like you knew something about him that nobody else did, and it made you feel both good and scared out of your mind. It felt invasive.

One subway stop and a little bit of a walk later, you both arrive at your dorm building. “Here we are,” you announce. “My roommate is probably going to kill me for coming back so late.”

“Should I go in with you? To protect you?” Mark is smiling, but you can tell there is a hint of seriousness. 

“If you want. She will probably ask for something from you, though.” You open the main doors and enter in your code, leading Mark in with you.

“Like what?” Mark furrows his eyebrows. “She's not weird, right?”

You nearly laugh out loud. “She's weird all right, just not the kind you're thinking of. She wanted me to get Haechan's number from you, but I got so absorbed in talking with you that I forgot to ask.” 

“Oh,” Mark is following you close behind, letting out a tiny sigh of relief. “That doesn't sound too bad, but his reaction should be interesting.” 

You shrugged. “You don't have to do it. Anyway-” You're cut off as the door to your apartment opens, Rhiannon stepping out and pressing her hands to her hips. 

“Look who's finally back,” she states, and you can immediately tell she is angry. “It's almost 1 AM!” 

“Shh! I'm sorry, okay? I lost track of time! I was with-” 

“Mark,” she says, her voice less harsh when she notices Mark is standing behind you, sheepishly smiling and waving at her. “At least you had the initiative to walk her home.” 

You squint at your best friend. It's clear she is trying not to freak out in front of him. “Are you gonna let me inside?” 

“Not yet,” she states. “Mark, I love you,” she says quickly, grabbing your arm and pulling you to her. You're smiling awkwardly at him, shrugging and mouthing ‘sorry’. 

Mark smiles awkwardly and nods at you. “Uh, thanks,”

“Thank you for bringing (Y/N) back. Has she asked you about Haechan?” 

“Yeah. I'll text you guys his number when I get back- which I probably should…”

You step forward. “Do you know how to get back?”

Mark shakes his head. “I think it's on Yorkville, I might have to use my GPS.” 

You shake your head. “It's easy to get there. Head to the station you and I were just on, take the southbound for 5 stops. Once you get above ground, you should be on that street.” 

Mark smiled at you. “Thank you.” He approached you to give you a hug, which felt warmer than the other two from earlier in the day. When he turned to leave, a pang hit your chest.

“Mark,” you called. Instantly he turned around, his expression curious. “Let me know when you get back safely.” 

He nodded, smiling warmly. “I will, I promise.” 

You watch him leave, a little shocked that spending the entire night with him didn't feel like it at all. You're only broken out of your thoughts when Rhiannon drags you inside your apartment and shuts the door.

“You scared me half to death, you bitch! At least text me when you're gonna stay out this late! I thought you were just having tea! I was this close to calling the cops!” She presses her index finger to her thumb and shoves her hand towards your face as you stand before her, a little humiliated.

“Your fingers are touching,” you say quietly, screwing your eyes shut.

“Exactly!” she exclaims. “I was one button away from speaking to 911! You're goddamn lucky I heard you and Mark coming down the hall!” You open your eyes when she gently touches your arm. “Don't scare me like that.”

“I'm sorry. I promise I'll keep in touch next time.” You smile awkwardly at her. “I was just so caught up in talking and trying to make sure it wasn't a dream.” 

Rhiannon nodded and returned your smile. “I know. You should go to bed, you have class in the morning.” 

“Yeah. Thanks for worrying about me.” 

Once you were in fresh pyjamas, you had some music on in the bathroom while you dry your hair with a towel. A quick shower before bed always was relaxing enough for you to fall asleep quickly. Snuggling up in bed after that long day was especially nice, gathering up your teddy bear to hug close. You're just about to drift off when your phone buzzes. 

Mark: Hey, I'm back safe. Thank you for the directions 

You: You're welcome

I had a really nice time tonight 

Mark: Me too

You have class tomorrow right 

You: Yeah, it's a short day though, just a small photoshop lab 

Mark: Do you want to hang out again when you're done? By the way, the number I promised - __________

You: I'd like that. Thanks, I'll forward it to her 

Haechan was cool with it right 

Mark: Me too :) yeah he was cool with it, he owed me a favour anyway 

Sleep well ok?

You: I will, you too? 

Mark: Yeah I promise 

Goodnight (Y/N)

You: Goodnight :)

After putting your phone down on your nightstand, you peacefully drifted off with a smile on your face.

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct #nct127 #nct scenarios #nct imagines #reader insert #fanfiction #nctu #kpop fanfictions #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

[peterxwade24]

Broken Hearts and New Beginnings

Chapter 6

this one didn’t get a cool title.

anyways, enjoy.

Marinette looked at Chloé and Sabrina, they were going to go take selfies in Gotham’s Botanical Gardens and they had decided to wear cute outfits that looked good together. She let a small smile spread across her face before she stuck her tongue out at her friends.

Chloé had her hair in a half-up half-down style with the half that was up pulled back in a fishtail braid. She wore a pastel yellow sundress with gray faux leather ankle boots. She had a quilted crossbody purse in champagne with a gold tone chain strap resting against her left hip.

Sabrina, on the other hand, had her hair pulled back into a low bun with a braid pinned to the underside of the bun. She wore a purple spaghetti strap tank tucked into a pair of gray shorts over black sheer tights. She had a mini sling backpack in the pattern Belle Paisley. She wore knee-high fashion boots in cognac with straps over her ankles which ended in brass buckles.

Marinette’s hair, cropped close to her head in the back and around the sides, was spiked up at the back and hung messily over her forehead. She wore a red tank crop top over a pair of black distressed jeans with a pair of black combat boots. She had a black wristlet to go with the outfit, the strap had a few pins on it, one was Littlefoot hatching out of his egg while another was a Cathulu boba tea pin.

“Let’s go take pictures.” Marinette threw a throw pillow at her friends before pulling out her phone to text Adrien and Nino.

Marinette let Chloé drag her out of the room, the duo followed closely by Sabrina, rode the elevator down to the lobby, where they met up with Adrien and Nino. The group of five left the hotel and walked to the botanical garden. They stuck together, knowing that they looked like easy targets to the hardened Gothamite thieves who’ve never seen them kick Akuma ass.

Marinette surveyed the plants in the garden, not paying attention when several more bodies joined her four friends. She turned to ask her friends their opinions, a smile on her face, until she saw they had gained people to their group. The smile died on her face, her eyes hardening. “Hello.”

Jason waved, taking in the way Marinette’s hair seemed to shine in the sunlight.

Roy and Adrien were wrapped around each other, red-orange spun with neon green above their heads. Stephanie spoke with Nino, light eggplant and illuminating emerald tucked in Nino’s hair. Chloé and Sabrina cheerfully spoke with Tim and Kon.

Jason was lost in thought, the image of a smile on Marinette’s face stuck in his thoughts. He hated that he was the reason she didn’t smile like that around many people, he hated that he caused the light to go out in her eyes.

Marinette simply frowned before clearing her throat. “Chlo, Nino, Brina, Adri?” She called to get her friends’ attention.

Chloé and Sabrina turned from their conversation with Tim and Kon, their attention going to their friend almost instantly. Nino turned to look at his childhood friend, his eyes taking in the way she seemed to be shrinking into herself. Adrien was the last to turn away from his conversation, not understanding why Marinette sounded the way she did.

“What’s up Bug?” Adrien asked while his eyes flicked between his friends and Roy, he wasn’t paying attention to his friends so he didn’t see Chloé glare at him or Nino looking at him pleadingly to shut up. “I’m a little preoccupied.”

Roy, however, did see the glares sent by Chloé and Nino’s pleading looks and so wisely decided to move away from his soulmate.

Marinette simply turned away from him, setting her gaze on Jason instead. “Since Adrien is too busy talking to help Chloé, Sabrina and I take good pictures, you get to help.”

---

Jason looked at the photos he saved to his gallery, the girls looked really good and he was starstruck by how well they looked together. The three girls seemed to balance each other but also still looked distinct enough to know who was who. His eyes couldn’t help but keep drifting back to Marinette and he couldn’t help but think about how she’d look with his jacket in addition to the outfit he’d spent nearly an hour taking pictures of her in. Jason was so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed someone standing behind him.

“Whatcha lookin’ at there Jaybird? Is that that pretty French girl you’ve been sighing about lately?” Dick’s voice sounded from beside Jason’s face.

Jason, reflexively, brought his other hand up into Dick’s nose. He frowned before turning to look at his stupid older brother. “What have I told you about sneaking up on me Dick?” Jason all but hissed through his teeth. The second Robin had always been more likely to strike first and ask questions later, so the look of shock on the first Robin’s face was unwarranted. “You know better.”

“That was uncalled for Little Wing.” Dick’s words were slurred due to the fact that he was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why’d you have to hit my nose?”

Jason just rolled his eyes and stood up, walking out of the room without answering Dick’s question. He sequestered himself away in the kitchen with Alfred, who was making tea.

“Is everything okay Master Jason?” Alfred asked as he handed him a cup of tea.

“I found my soulmate Alfred. I found my soulmate and she’s going back to France at the end of her class trip.” Jason frowned before showing Alfred one of the pictures of Marinette. “Her name is-”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng, granddaughter of Roland and Gina Dupain.” Alfred smiled and took a sip of his tea. “I served with her grandfather, her father is actually my godson.”

Jason stared at the man who for all intents and purposes was his grandfather. “Wait, really?”

Alfred smiled, a small and sad smile full of nostalgia. “Yes. Roland was a good soldier and is an even better man, if a little stubborn and set in his ways.”

Taglist:

@mystery-5-5 @moonlightstar64

#maribat #ml crossover #mlb crossover #ml x dc #mlb x dc #Broken Hearts and New Beginnings #BHaNB

[theogygiaisland]

The Crimson Trace [4/26]

Characters: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Damian Wayne

Warnings: Teen (13+)

Categories: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery

Words: 3,138 words

Read on: AO3 (<<prev | next>>)

Bruce eyes his phone as it pings in quick succession. Since he was technically working (ie signing the green highlights Lucius generously told him to), there shouldn’t have been any chimes coming from the device short of family or JL responsibilities. From the lack of immediate calls, it would probably just be his kids chatting about– that or Hal Jordan’s flooding the JLA group chat despite being told to not to. Again.

They really should enforce the rules in the next meeting. When Bruce isn’t preoccupied eyeing Zatanna or vibe or Booster Gold to ask his questions like the last time.

So much for being the leader, he thinks, but this is why he’s asked Diana and Clark to step up while he manages Gotham-problems.

PING!

If this was Hal, Diana and Clark will certainly be emailed leadership Wikihows. Again.

PING!

With a smile, he opens the notifications that come from his kids and not pesky coworkers who have nothing better to do (We know you’re on your break Barry but no one here even has TikTok). Bruce opens the family group chat and starts from where he’s left off.

Since he was catching up with WE work, he opted not to join the kids in their outing to Gotham proper. Dick just laughed at his excuses before dragging his brothers down and into the garage with the promises of take out. Cass, his sweet child, noted him eyeing the fidgety younger boys and at least hugged him before trailing behind with a quick promise of ‘we’ll be good’. She probably took the opportunity to lag behind in case someone makes a break for it and ditch the group. There was only some light grumbling from Damian (probably just to save face) and Tim (who was threatening something about hacking...bubble pop?), but it looks like they were at least not that eager to ditch their siblings.

He doesn’t recall when Tim suddenly decided to actively join his children in anything that wasn’t required by Alfred or out of happenstance– and even those were ditched the moment they took their eyes off of him. Moreso, Bruce was surprised the teen didn’t seem to be minding Dick leading him with an arm thrown on his shoulders and Damian walking inside his personal space. This was the most alive he’s seen his kids in weeks, no dancing around each other, no moping, and definitely no weapons drawn (at the very least pointed at eachother within Bruce’ or Alfred’ eyesight)- which in itself is considered a win.

Besides, Bruce thought it would be good for them to have time to themselves without (responsible) adult supervision.

Dick was sending pictures from when they got Batburgers almost two hours ago, getting candid photos of Tim hesitantly smiling as Damian reaches over the passenger seat to a defensive Cass who’s holding the aux cord far away from him in the car and a hand on his face.

‘d wanted to play acdc i cant believ T AGREES wit him’ is the caption from Dick.

‘Of all the days finals happened grrrrrrr at least @DTSig’s missing out with me 🤪’ Steph replied.

‘💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖’

‘Awwwwww thanks cassie🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺’

Another photo is a selfie of Dick and Damian as in the line for their orders, Damian scowling at the camera while Dick leans in with an arm on the shorter boy’s head. Bruce thinks he could frame that in the den.

‘aaaawwwwwww 🥺 🥺 its his grumpy happy face awwwwwww 😭’ Steph chats below it.

‘I hope you get a Red Hood toy you gremlin 😏’ Jason says.

‘d says he’s already got 2.’

‘I said what I said’

There was one with a picture of Damian grumpily eating a fry while looking like he’s burning holes into a Robin action figure. The hood of the toy already had ketchup on it from where Damian might have already tried to put it on. Bruce thinks he might also frame that in his personal study.

The next photo was a photo of a bitten burger.

‘wish u were here @JayHood!’

Underneath it was Jason’s response, which was just a picture of his fist with a middle finger up.

‘Language 💖😡😡😡😡💖’ Cass typed out.

Bruce laughs, feeling like somehow, someway, they’re going to be okay. His family’s cracked around the edges, but they endure; even with Tim’s momentary addition. They always endure.

--

Before dinner and definitely after managing the bullshit that was the marketing yearly report (No Debbie, we will not increase expenditure by 22% just for social media), Bruce gives up and decides to might as well start with Batman Inc. There was a new homicide case from the night where they arrested Joker with a peculiar death that’s been confusing the GCPD. A man named Von Derm, 60 years old, father and heir to the Von Derm legacy, apparently committed suicide in his Diamond District penthouse. There was something peculiar about the way he held his gun up to do the deed– something even Commissioner Gordon picks up and sent over to Oracle, which Babs immediately flagged to Batman as the three main suspects– the wife, the housemaid and the plumber– are to be released from custody despite Commissioner’s protests. She tagged it as a homicide, and judging from the crime scene photos, Bruce would agree.

It was only a matter of proving how– and who did it.

A time bound case for Batman– just what he needs in order to keep his mind away from more personal problems.

This is where Dick finds him, as the man strides into the cave with a greasy paper bag and the air of fried food.

“I brought gifts!”

“Dick, what are you wearing?”

The young man holds his hands outward and strikes a pose so Bruce can get a better angle of his shirt and looking like a stone caricature of a Greek sculpture. Muscles flexing, face tilted up in a smoulder.

All the while, Bruce tries to smother the pinched look on his face. “Like it? I found it in my closet cause Damian got ketchup on the other shirt.” Dick places the bag on the Batcomputer’s table.

“It looks several sizes too small.”

“Pfft. Come off it B. This is how Wonder Woman dresses up, muscles of Truth and Justice!” Dick laughs, carefree and honest.

“Pretty sure that’s a Wondergril tank top, son.”

“Whatever– I don’t think Cassie would mind. The little junior Titans are always up for antics like these back at their base.”

“Did you steal that from the Teen Titan’s base? Please tell me you didn’t steal it from a teenage girl. Dick, we’re literal billionaires.”

Dick laughs and the sound bounces around in the cave. “You have no proof!”

“Guess I don’t.” Bruce’s face twitches as he feels a twinge of fondness for his oldest ward as Dick fiddles with the hem of his Wonder Girl tank top. “So how’s the trip?”

“It’s all good.” Dick says and Bruce’s light mood goes sour. The way he said it, with an air of nonchalance, means it was definitely not all good. “We got burgers but– hey did you know the Question is operating in Gotham recently?”

“Vic? Vic Sage?”

“Yep.” Dick looks at the screen. “What’cha got there, B?”

“Homicide.” Bruce manages to sound stoic. “But you’re no good at changing topics, son. What happened?”

Dick sighs. “Nothing really. We got batburgers, but apparently Vic managed to get an audience with Tim while we were in line. Cass mentioned the guy was being all cryptic and she didn’t follow the conversation much. Not much to read off of the guy either, just that he’s…waiting? I don’t know. And Tim– Tim closed off again.”

Bruce frowns at this. If it really was the Question, there was something big about to go down in Gotham. The Question rarely operated outside of Hub City, but the last time he was in Batman’s radar, the Question removed the bat icon on the Bat signal and replaced it with his own signature question mark.

To be fair, that period in his life was kind of blurry, with world-ending crises popping left and right, but he was certain that he had made it clear to the guy that he didn’t appreciate it.

Dick clears his throat to get Bruce out of his head.

“So...I talked to Wally today. Regarding our guest upstairs.” He begins casually, leaning on the desk, eyes trained on the frayed edges of the string. “And he’s not saying there’s no reason to believe this isn’t a timeline alter, but the most glaring fact opposed to it is--”

“He’s not a conduit.”

Dick nods in affirmation. “He’s not a conduit to the Speedforce.”

“I hear a ‘but’ in that sentence.”

“All recorded conduits have always been Speedsters. They access enough kinetic energy to access the Speedforce and the Speedforce accesses the timestream. That’s what we have in the file. No non-Speeders can access the Speedforce. No Speeders, no possible timeline alters via Speedforce.”

“But that doesn’t mean the timestream can’t be accessed.”

Dick bites his lips, his fingers stilling the ministrations on his shirt, and Bruce has a faint idea that he’s choosing his next words properly. The young man looks him straight in the eye.

“If you work it mathematically, it sounds like if a is equal to b and b is equal to c, you’d assume a is equal to c right?” Bruce nods slowly. “But Wally mentioned that, what if, b can lead you to c, but c can’t lead you to b?”

“He’s saying there are alternative ways to access the timestream without using the Speedforce.” Bruce pauses. “It’s possible. But then it would mean--”

Dick’s face is grave. “Omega beams, Bruce.”

Bruce’s frown cannot go any deeper because he can’t accept this. No, not possible. Tim was from an alternate universe. There’d be imprints if he were. If he wasn’t, there’d be repercussions and he would be dead than someone who’s walking the halls of the manor very much alive. He knows because he’s fought Darkseid himself.

“He’s up there holed up in his room the moment we went home.”

He finds that he has no other words to share and neither does Dick, letting the silence envelop them and the smell of the greasy fast food now smells a little rancid.

--

Bruce knocks on the door.

“Who is it!?”

“It’s Bruce.”

“Oh. Come in!”

Bruce opens the door and pauses in the threshold as he observes Tim working in his room, writing hunched over his desk with multiple pictures from case file pictures opened. He’s only 17, and Bruce is not a ‘physical touching’ love language kind of guy like Dick or Cass, but wants to wrap his arms around the boy like it somehow fixes things because Bruce is still struggling after today’s revelations and he doesn’t know how to fix whatever this is. But he knows the teen won’t allow it. Or he’s not used to receiving comforting touches from other people aside from Dick and Cass-- Bruce’s shoulder squeezes alone varied from well received to flinching, and that thought alone makes him want to vomit at the implication.

He apparently raised this boy.

“Got a minute Tim?”

Tim hums, eyes flickering on the pages laid in front of him. “Yeah sure.”

He lets the silence still for a minute, but Tim doesn’t look up from his work. Tim barely acknowledges him as he continues to write something. “How was I as a father to you?”

“You were fine. I handled it.”

Bruce did not need any more confirmation that this was actually not fine. What child receives parental guidance and describes it as them handling it? So he persists in a tone he’s used on multiple of his children. Safe, unaccusing.

“I’m not saying you can’t. I just want to know, champ.”

“It’s fine. You were at least there versus my actual parents-- or at least there for things that matter. When I got dad back, he tried, but he wasn’t really in tip-top shape to do anything outside of the house before he followed mom into the afterlife.”

And wasn’t that a loaded statement. Bruce puts a pin on that for a later conversation.

“Tim.”

“B.”

“I’ve been asking around in the league about sending you back…” He begins, although he feels way out of his league here-- and he was freaking Batman. “I-- I’ve already been talking to Zatanna and Vibe on how we might bring you back. It might take a while but the initial word is that it’s going to take at least 3 months.”

No response, Tim merely flicks to another photograph.

“But Tim, I want you to know I’m not sending you back because you’re not wanted here right? It’s still 3 months away, while you’re here, you are still under my protection. You can still be family even for just a bit.”

Tim merely hums distractedly.

“Tim? Can you hear me? Look, chum, I need to know something.” Bruce begins. “Would it-- would you be okay to be back there? I need to know you’re safe.”

Tim freezes on his seat, pen scratching on the paper as he suddenly stops writing. “Sending me back– safe. What?”

“I don’t mean to intrude chum, I just want to know you’re safe. If your homelife– if your Batman is not keeping you safe and well fed, I need to know.”

At the back of his head, he thinks he’s overstepped boundaries. Maybe Dick was right to suggest communications classes. Bruce watches as Tim mutters to himself furiously. He catches snippets of ‘Of course he doesn’t know’s and ‘Offering me to stay’s, but he doesn’t want to jump into conclusions unless Tim tells him what it is. He’s been on the wrong end of the conversation too many times to assume.

“And then what Bruce? You’re asking me to stay. Here.” The teen deadpans.

“I mean I’d like for you to stay here, but if you’d like another accommodation–”

“HA!” Tim laughs, voice raw and grim. The change of atmosphere was palpable. “That’s what you said before too!”

Bruce frowns. “Before?”

“Yes, before! When I became Robin for Batman, you always wanted to bring me home but I couldn’t. I had a house. I had my family. I wasn’t planning on being a vigilante forever. God I was so stupid to get my hopes up– I thought I could finally get a fresh start and belong.”

“I have no idea what you’re implying here.” Bruce says slowly, although a part of him, the one that’s angry and a parent and is goddamn loud is frowning at the situation. He knows he has to squish that feeling– too many confrontations with Dick and Jason starts with that curl of defensiveness and he’s not pushing any child of his away again.

The teen runs a hand through his hair and blows out a breath of frustration. “Who have you talked to about me?”

Bruce jogs his memory as to what Tim was talking about. “Only Cisco Romano and Zatanna know about you. Dick just got a hold on Wally today.”

“And what have you gotten?”

“Nothing much, just that it would take time to understand what happened-- with your situation we need all the data we could get-- and then we have to ask Midnighter or Booster Gold to build a machine... But if this is about sending you back-- we’re still trying. We won’t give up on you Tim” Tim shakes his head and Bruce-- Bruce doesn’t know what he’s feeling. “Tim, I don’t understand. Please, make me understand.”

“I don’t really want to go back, Bruce. Not to like back then. This is better. For everyone.” Tim whispers with a voice so small Bruce had to strain to hear it but the words hit him like a truck.

“Then don’t go back there.”

“This is different. You’re still thinking this is an alternate universe situation right? Like Superboy Prime or something?” Tim shakes his head again and raises his head to meet Bruce’s gaze. “I think you see it B. I know you do. You’re just too wrapped up in your guilt to acknowledge it.”

“What do you mean?” Bruce could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

“The evidence is all around! God I didn’t– I wished it was an alternative universe– but it’s all here. It’s always been here.”

Evidence? What the hell was he talking about?

“Think about it. The armor that conveniently fits. Oral antibiotics laying around just happens to be the same dosage I take for my asplenia. Access codes to the fucking Batcave that just weirdly work for me. We were looking at it all wrong Bruce.

“We kept looking for evidence of Tim Drake, but evidence of Red Robin was here all along.”

Bruce freezes as the world feels like it’s tilting on its axis, his stomach dropping. His mind was whirling around, thoughts screaming in his brain one after the other like a crescendo of waves.

But Tim’s voice-- his words-- it was enough to make his mind go overdrive on things he’s offhandedly explained away. The bo staff he has no recollection of having. Dick’s seemingly random assortment of younger superhero merchandise. Ordering a lot of blueberries despite Bruce the only one that would eat it willingly in this household for patrol snacking.

“Bruce-- I-- I’ve always been here.” No. No. No. NO. Bruce’s mind spins faster. He wanted to demand it to stop. It doesn’t.

Damian’s clinginess.

Cass knowing things she couldn’t have.

Jason’s investment over the kid’s passiveness to life.

…

Joker’s laughing threats.

“You see it now, did you?” Tim smiles at him, a small sad pull of his cheeks that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m not in an alternate universe Bruce. It’s me. I’m your Tim.”

Tim passes him a folder together with the list he’s been scribbling on when Bruce entered. When Bruce opens it, it drops pictures on to the floor, hand written notes at the back. A brief glance shows pictures of Batman, brooding with gargoyles, of Robin-- Jason’s Robin-- midswing with a grapple, or Barbara’s Batgirl flipping from a stumbling goon. Pictures of little things too, like unmarked notches on the Batcave where his children tracked their height.

“There’s also this– God I’m so stupid I didn’t check out my spare the first time I woke up. I thought– I really thought I had a new beginning, B.”

The teen holds out a costume from where he’s pulled it out from the closet. Something black and red, a cowl and a cape. Inside the box peeked yellow bandoliers that taunts Bruce in his shock.

In Tim’s messy scribbling and big bold letters is the word ‘IMPRINTS’

Oh…

Oh.

#Tim Drake #Red Robin #Bruce Wayne #Batman #alfred pennyworth #Nightwing #Crimson Trace #Damian Wayne #Cass Cain #Steph Brown #Jason Todd #lmao help me #I'm writing out the second arc and I'm just crazy tired from all the ideas churning #merry christmas! #calypso writes

[nonsensicalobsessions]

Tom & the Cookie Monster Take 2

Author’s note: @villainousshakespeare , this idea came and hit me like a brick. Hopefully it did not leave any lasting damage, nor will it give you any by reading it. Anyway, you requested: “May I please have a Tom himself fic (since you are so good at those!) maybe something set during the Broadway run of Betrayal?“ I do not know if this will live up to your praise, as this is but a shortie, but I hope you enjoy, here is your promised prompt, my dearest friend:

Two male Hiddlestons made their way through the hallway towards their apartment door. One was prancing, sprightly and happy. The other was proceeding at a trudge.

Tom was tired, and he had every reason to be. It was Saturday night, which meant there had been the matinee production, as well as the evening show of Betrayal. And while the show was going extremely well, the pace was still grueling some days.

Like today. And yesterday’s. And last week’s...

He rifled through his keys, snickering as he remembered how one fan he spoke to was under the assumption he was living in a penthouse apartment on Fifth Avenue. Erm, no. He had quite a nice furnished flat, in a secure building where he did not have to be concerned any random fan could interrupt his rare moments of private life, but it was simply a nice flat. And at the moment, one of his neighbors was evidently baking biscuits, and his stomach growled.

And not just any biscuits, but chocolate chip biscuits. Damn it. Now he was hungry, and even though he knew of at least half a dozen places that would deliver even at this hour, he was tired, and didn’t feel like interacting with anyone. He wished to take his public face off, just as he had removed his stage make up a couple of hours ago, but then went and spent the time afterwards doing stage door appearances for his fans. Which he loved doing. But now, he just felt drained.

As he found the right key, Bobby was sitting at the door obediently, but Tom could see the dog was all but vibrating to be let in. “Bob, what is it, man?” As Tom unlocked the door, Bobby let out a joyous bark and sped in so rapidly Tom was grateful he had dropped the lead, or his shoulder would have suffered a hell of a jerk.

Tom walked in, his eyes bouncing quickly, dropping his bag and pulling out his phone in a reflexive action. While he had never had a fan break into any of his digs, it had happened to several of his friends, and his fingers were already preparing to call security, even as he recognized the smell of biscuits was even stronger now.

Apparently whomever Bobby had run to greet had baked for him. Which was a pretty decent thing to do, stalker-behavior aside.

“You forgot I was coming tonight, didn’t you?” The familiar female voice was amused, as her yet-to-be-seen form was bent over in the kitchen, acknowledging Bobby’s slavish adoration.

Oh, shit. He had.

He dropped his keys in the small dish she had given him to keep his keys when she learned he kept misplacing them.

“How much trouble am I in?” Even his voice was dull.

“Oh, honestly, Tom.” An arm came up from behind him, hugging his waist and brandishing a freshly baked treat, so fresh it was being held in a napkin. “If you’re so tired that you can’t even remember having given your extra key to someone for just this purpose, I think that speaks more to exhaustion than culpability. Have a cookie, Cookie. I made them just like the recipe printed on the bag, so I can’t have messed it up too badly...”

Then another hand snaked around his waist, this one bearing the body and face of none other than the Cookie Monster, who proceeded to menace the other hand’s bounty. “Delayed gratification, Hiddleston!!” Now the female voice behind him was growly and raspy. “No cookies for you, you must practice the art of...”

“Oh, fuck that,” quoth Tom, grabbing the napkin and spinning around to the laughing face of his baker-cum-stalker. “Get the hell away from my biscuits, Cookie Monster, and take your delayed gratification and get stuffed...”

“It’s a puppet, darling, I don’t think they can get stuffed...”

“No, but they can get a fist right up their...”

“Shut up, Tom, and eat your cookie! I am shocked, shocked and appalled by your uncouth behavior...” laughed Sabrina Wright, who was clearly neither shocked nor appalled.

Tom met Sabrina three months ago, when he did an impromptu visit at a children’s hospital as Loki, complete with costume. The entire event was kept under wraps and unpublicized, as it wasn’t sponsored by anyone. Chris Evans had come to the area to visit a friend who was facing surgery, and between him, Charlie Cox, and Tom, they hatched the idea. Then at the last minute, Brie Larson found out about the plan and came along as well.

The children were ecstatic and a “Marvelous time was had by all” as Tom kept saying later, much to everyone’s general disgust as they kept throwing things at him at his apartment...but Tom had noticed that while everyone, children, parents, siblings, and staff were excited and clamoring to be involved in the fun, there were a few patients that were just too ill to participate, and he and his friends made a point to leave some things aside for those kids to have, and to see if there was anything they could do for them once the furor calmed down.

There was one nurse that never joined in the carefully controlled chaos, but went about caring for, and ultimately consoling, the ones who wished to play but couldn’t, or were too ill to notice, or care. Tom saw her picking one child up, and simply rocking him in her arms in a rocking chair for awhile, rubbing his back, and apparently singing to him. He made a mental note to say hello to her as well. He knew there was always someone that had to stay behind and work when everyone was enjoying these kinds of parties, and he wanted to let her know he saw and was touched by the work she was doing with so much heart.

Once the brouhaha and the dust settled, Loki stepped aside, found Nurse Sabrina, and asked if the other children would be interested in seeing the Marvel crew, and she grimaced.

“It’s very kind of you to inquire, uh, Loki, if you and your...cohort would like to perhaps wave at the children from the doorway if they are awake, that would be fine, but that is the most I can allow. They really are quite sick.”

Chris stepped up. “Is it all right if we leave them some signed posters and things like that?”

“Cap, I know that would make them very happy, even if we have to put them up outside of their rooms, looking in...!”

Loki looked into the room where he had seen the little boy Sabrina had rocked. He seemed so frail... “Erm, that little boy...will he be alright?”

Sabrina’s face buttoned up. “I’m afraid I cannot comment on his prognosis, Loki. I will say...I wish you had healing powers. For all of these children, obviously...but especially for him. He was so distressed he could not come out and see you, in particular. He thinks you are, ah, badass. I do not bother correcting his more colorful speech. It’s not relevant.”

“I see. Is he awake?”

“Yes, he is, but I cannot allow you to go in...”

“I understand...tell this young Midgardian to expect a visit in a few minutes...”

One of the giveaway items they had was a small t shirt, which Tom had signed by both characters and actors, and then proceeded to his room.

Small Tim Curran was wondering why Nurse Sabrina had come in, and insisted that she comb his hair, and wash his face...and then...

“Midgardian.”

“Holy sh...smokes,” the little boy breathed. Standing in the doorway was none other than the OG, the badass himself... “Loki?”

“I understand you are unwell and as such I am not to enter your presence. I would not wish to undermine your recovery. However, I come bearing gifts.”

Sabrina entered, grinning from ear to ear, and showed him the T-shirt. Loki had even doodled his face next to his name. “I have embued it with as much healing seidr as possible. I do not know if it will be effective against your Midgardian illness, but I do know it will aid your prodigious courage and strength, provided you heed the instructions of Healer Sabrina, and all others who are working in your aid.”

Captain Marvel, Captain America, and Daredevil also spoke to him personally, adding what qualities they added to his shirt.

Tim was in heaven, and as Sabrina was looking at his vitals, saw he was getting over excited, and thought she would have to cut the visit short, but seeing as she was getting concerned, the actors all proclaimed they needed to depart to return to their duties.

Tim fell asleep that night clutching his shirt, and would not be parted from it. Loki would be pleased to know it did impart healing powers, because it brought the little boy so much happiness...

Tom called Sabrina the next day, and asked if there was anything else he could do for the children in the wing, and Sabrina replied they were still very excited, and he had done more than enough. She was very grateful. She was also very thankful he called to speak with her personally, not because she was flattered on a personal standpoint (although she was) but because her superiors in administration would be quick to turn it into a publicity request or worse, a financial one).

Tom shyly admitted he did have an ulterior motive for asking to speak with her personally...he wanted to know if he could see her sometime.

Something about the small nurse had gotten under his skin. Maybe it was the way she stuck to the background the entire afternoon, even when everyone was getting into the big group photo. Maybe it was the way she never asked for a thing herself, even when they were all speaking casually and privately at the end, when she easily could have. No one would have minded, and even Evans and Larson commented on it over pizza and beer later that evening, how she didn’t ask for a selfie, an autograph, nothing, even though she was as friendly and pleasant as old be...

Cox noticed how Tom blushed when Evans joked about he couldn’t get over someone didn’t want to get a photo with the man who saved New York, or the bastard that almost destroyed it. Cox noticed everything...as he was leaving for the night, he asked Tom, “Are you going to try to get Nurse Ratched’s phone number?”

Tom had flared, “Don’t do that. Don’t make fun of her.”

Cox grinned. “Ah hah. So that’s the way the wind is blowing...” and walked away, whistling.

Coffee became an exchange of What’s App phone numbers. Both of them worked long hours, so texting was a godsend. Texts became marathon phone calls at odd hours of the day, which became meetings in strange places to avoid the paparazzi, until they stumbled into each other’s arms, and each other’s beds.

Sabrina was like no one Tom had ever met: calm, compassionate, cheerful, and not giving a tinker’s damn about the industry, gossip columns, and all the rest of it. When he hesitantly pointed this aspect of her personality out to her she looked at him as though he was something of interest under a microscope.

“Sweet man, I act like I don’t care because I truly don’t. It’s completely irrelevant. Unimportant. Trifling. I have held children’s beating hearts in my hands while doctors have desperately tried to sew them back together in operating rooms because bullets ripped through their little bodies and their bedrooms in housing projects. I’ve held hysterical parents back as they’ve tried to somehow willtheir dying children back to life as they take their last breaths. I’ve held newborns in my hands as they have been only seconds old, and I have held children in my arms as they’ve breathed their last. That, to me, is real. That is life. And it comes wrapped up in tears and laughter and vomit and shit and blood and love and love and love. If some paparazzi, interviewer, man on the street, or tabloid tried to give me shit for loving you, ask me how much I’d care? The answer is not at all. It’s not going to change my mind, or my life.”

Tom knew, then, he had found his one, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and grow old with, maybe even have a family of his own with...the question was, would she want the same...?

“...Tom? Tom?...Earth to Major...oh, you know what? Forget about it, Major Tom has crashed, Houston, we have a problem,” sighed Sabrina looking at her lover who had fallen asleep on the sofa still clutching part of a cookie he had yet to finish.

“Well, Bobby, it looks like another night of delayed gratification for me...good thing he’s so cute, and I happen to love the charming beanpole,” she commented wryly, only to see that Bobby was also lying on the floor asleep...and farting.

“Good God, what is it with the Hiddleston men tonight, I wonder?” Laughing quietly, Sabrina got up and made sure the bed was ready (and not in the hapless disarray of clothing tossed all around, which was not usual but happened enough to be worthy of a check). She turned down the covers and made sure there was a bottle of water on Tom’s nightstand.

As she was doing this, Tom woke up with a jerk, and he looked around for Sabrina. He wasn’t quite awake, wasn’t asleep, and Sabrina wasn’t there...she wasn’t there, she had finally done it, come to her senses and left him, he had forgotten she was coming to spend the weekend with him, one the rare occurrences she had the entire weekend off, and then he goes and falls asleep on her, no, noton her, but next to her like a right pillock, as if she wasn’t even there...no, no...he knew it was going to happen eventually, she was too lovely a person to put up with him and his bullshit, the way he was so self-absorbed and caught up in his own problems and life, she was right, she dealt in the real world, and...

He put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Sabrina...so sorry. You deserved better, but I loved you the best I could,” he whispered. “I gave you all the heart I have...”

“What’s this then?” A soft voice, sweet like melted chocolate, soothing as a warm kiss...

“Sabrina!” His head shot up so quickly she winced at the cracking sound from his neck, and then saw his reddened, swollen eyes.

“Ah, love, what is it? Nightmare?” She came and extended her hand to him. “Come with me, you’re exhausted, and we’ll cuddle.”

“You’re still here.”

She looked at him tolerantly. “Yes, Tom. Still here. Complete with my Cookie Monster puppet, just to drive you mad. Come to bed. I’ll snuggle with you and chase the bads away, I promise. The only monster here is the blue one eyeing your cookies, and I’ve put him away.”

He took her small hand, and smiled. “There will be no delayed gratification in this house. We will enjoy the things we love, and live the one life we have to its fullest...no longer am I going to delay giving my heart what it desires most...I shall be bold, and decisive...Bobby, you have my express permission, nay, encouragement, to destroy the Cookie Monster, and anything else that dares come between myself and my love...”

Yes. He would be bold. Tomorrow, he would ask her if she would consider becoming a permanent star in his sky, he would stop living in fear of her disappearing the moment he closed his eyes, he would throw caution to the four winds, and belay any idea of delaying his happiness, and hopefully, hers, for any reason, a moment longer. There would be declarations made, and promises, and...

He tripped over his shoes.

“Careful! Harsh, Tom, very harsh...and Bobby, don’t you dare.” They turned off the lights and made their way to bed, Tom sleepily stripping along the way, making Sabrina laugh. “Ah, what the world to pay to see this strip show...”

“Quiet, Woman. This is not a strip show, this is a ritual divestiture of armor.”

“Uh huh,” she skeptically agreed, looking at the trail of clothes behind him. “So, if I was to get undressed like that...”

“Ah, now that would be a strip show, and a lovely one, indeed...”

“Sexist double standards...here, sit down, I will tuck you in...”

“Promise?”

“Tom!”

The naughty little boy expression he gave her was ruined by his yawn he could barely cover. Sabrina laughed as she quickly undressed and put on her sleep clothes, only to be greeted by Tom’s gentle snore the moment she turned out the light. He was so very tired. She was glad he could relax, and find some rest.

And while yes, it was definitely a night for delayed gratification, they had the whole weekend to look forward to sharing. She, for one, was so looking forward to bringing out the Cookie Monster puppet in the morning...maybe as part of a wake up call...

Tagging @villainousshakespeare , @winterisakiller , @vodka-and-some-sass , @lotus-eyedindiangoddess , @just-the-hiddles , @yespolkadotkitty , @hopelessromanticspoonie , @theheartofpenelope , @sabine-leo , @wegingerangelica , @ciaodarknessmyheart , @wrathkitty , @rhemasky , @catsladen​ @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​ , @redfoxwritesstuff​ , @the-insomniac-cat2​ , @alexakeyloveloki​ , @myoxisbroken​ , @ladyfluff​ , @toomanystoriessolittletime​

#Tom & the Cookie Monster Take 2Nonsensical Writestom hiddleston x octom hiddleston x ofclook Christine I did a thing200 follower prompt

[kumeko]

A/N: Written for the @batfamfashionzine! I hadn’t written an interview style piece before (and it’s been ages since I wrote first person). This was a lot more fun than I’d expected to write. (Alfred is a gushing grandfather, you all know it to be true)

Summary: Alfred Pennyworth, butler to the illustrious Wayne family. What scandals does he hide behind his smile? Watch as this investigative reporter infiltrates the Wayne Manor and finds out!

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The grand Wayne manor. An imposing building with 2 floors (that we can see), an east and west wing, and more windows than you can count. Where the flirty Bruce Wayne, charming Dick Grayson, elusive Cassandra Cain, intelligent Tim Drake, bad boy Jason Todd, and rebellious Damian Wayne all live. As well as his paramour for the day. This day, it’s Selina Kyle (and do I hear wedding bells? Their on and off romance has been on for quite a while now).

 I approach hoping for an interview with any of these elites. Maybe not Bruce, I don’t fancy getting into a catfight with Selina over him. I can settle for Stephanie Brown, who is either one of Bruce’s adoptive kids or just dating one of his children. Tim? Cassandra?

Unfortunately, no one is home but Alfred Pennyworth, the family butler. Graciously, after I lie about arranging an interview earlier, he agrees to give me one. At least, I think he does. He’s British and that polite accent could just as easily have been him asking me to go.

 To be honest, while Alfred is the butler, he’s more than that too. “I started serving Thomas and Martha Wayne,” he states as he dusts the mantle in the ornate reception room. As a condition to the interview, he requests that he can continue his daily tasks. The man is nothing if not dedicated to his job. “Then, after the tragedy, it was only natural I continued to stay.”

 And stay he did. While most would be intimidated by the task of taking care of a little boy, especially a little boy who had just lost his parents, Alfred never lost his stride. Aside from his butler duties, he handled cooking, cleaning, shopping, gardening, and a whole host of tasks that any other manor would have a whole team handle. That didn’t change even as Bruce grew up.

 “He was very different before,” Alfred admits, pausing to show a picture from the mantle. It depicts a smiling boy holding the hands of his parents. There’s something innocent about him, something precocious, and nothing at all like the man with the come-hither eyes he grew up to be. “He smiled more then.”

 I would argue he still smiles now, just a bit differently, but something tells me that’s not what Alfred meant. Several other pictures on the mantel depict Bruce throughout the years—there he is, taking his first martial arts class. Another one with him sitting under a tree, a pile of books at his side. A graduation photo. His smile is gone in all of them, a boy still coping with the loss of both his parents.

 “I could not fill that gap but I tried to ease it.” Alfred sets the photos back, his eyes lowered as he remembers.

 And maybe he couldn’t, but he certainly tried his best. While Bruce’s hoard of girlfriends might indicate a psychological issue that needs to be dealt with, his gaggle of kids show something else. A need for family. And while I cannot tell how much of the personas they show are just for the media, for their fans, they all seem happy enough.

 “I was surprised when he brought in a little lost boy,” Alfred softly murmurs, thinking back to the day that Dick Grayson had joined the family. An orphan too, Dick Grayson had just lost everything when Bruce took him under his wing. “It was like going back in time.”

 And the second time around it was easier. “Laughter sounded through the halls again.” Something about having a kid in the manor brought life back to it and it wasn’t long before we started seeing a serious side to Bruce’s playboy persona. Something almost fatherly, but not quite. Children took to him and it wasn’t long before Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Cassandra Cain joined the group.

 “Jason is a wild one,” Alfred comments dryly, his hand pausing as he dusts the couch. “Always picking one fight or another. Dick tried to reign him in but there was only so much he could do from college.”

 By the point the eldest son had moved out, Jason Todd had moved in. Maybe Bruce couldn’t handle the quiet in the halls. He got more than he expected with the rambunctious Jason. Not much is known about his past. Same with Cassandra Cain, the fourth child of the family. Considering how mysterious their pasts are, rumours are that they’re Bruce’s illegitimate children, from one of his many hookups.

 Alfred frowns disapprovingly at the thought. “They are children who needed him, that’s all.” And that is all he will say on that matter. Maybe he’s right, that Bruce’s philanthropist side got the better of him. Or maybe Alfred just doesn’t want to think of his ward like that.

 Either way, once Jason left the house (and we’re not quite sure why, but it seemed like a big fight), Tim Drake joined. A quiet child in comparison, and perhaps that was what Bruce needed after dealing with the troublemaker. While much is known about Tim Drake, it isn’t quite clear how he got introduced to Bruce Wayne. Tim had a family of his own at the time—a mother, a father, and a girlfriend even. Stephanie Brown, a girl who flits in and out of the manor, sometimes with her arm hooked in Tim’s, sometimes with Cassandra’s. Cassandra Cain also came in at this time and it was clearly a very full house.

 “Stephanie really livened everything up.” At this, Alfred smiles fondly, thinking of the bright, sassy girl who people have come to love for her twitter feed. Her relatable content has made her a star of her own right. “Tim would sometimes withdraw into himself and Cassandra…well, she didn’t always know how to play with others.”

 The trio were well documented at the time, and it was hard to find one without at least one of the others. Even now, the house is full of pictures of all three, most of them selfies taken by Stephanie. Looking at them chronologically, it’s a stark contrast between how Cassandra looks in the first few, stiff, out of place, awkward, and how she looks in the more recent ones. She’s learned to smile, that’s for certain.

 “She takes after Bruce the most.” And perhaps Alfred has a soft spot for her for that very reason. It seems cleaning is no longer on his mind as he now takes me on a tour of the ground floor. The second floor is off limits and he refuses to acknowledge any possibility of a basement. We go from room to room and he points out family photos, taken on skiing trips and parties. There’s one of Cassandra, Stephanie, Koriand’r and Barbara Gordon at a pool. I wonder how that went, considering both Koriand’r and Barbara are Dick’s on and off paramours, but the two women seemed to be hitting it off in that photo. Another photo shows Dick tugging Damian Wayne’s cheeks up into a smile.

 “Dick has been a good brother to him.” Alfred points out several photos in the same vein, of Stephanie tugging Damian along on skates, of Tim and Damian glaring at each other. “They all have been.”

 Damian Wayne, the only child to actually carry Bruce’s last name. The only official child of the bunch. Heir to both the Wayne and the Al Ghul inheritance. At the mention of Talia Al Ghul, Alfred frowns. At least as much as he will professionally allow it. Clearly there is some bad blood between the two, though I can’t blame him. Talia’s family is rumoured to have connections with the mafia and other underground groups. For a while, Jason had even joined them. “It’s a good thing he’s here,” is all Alfred will say.

 Despite their different statuses, the children get along with each other. Though maybe I shouldn’t call them children—at this point, everyone but Damian is either a teenager or an adult. While they might not be siblings, they are certainly friends.

A testament, perhaps, to the Alfred’s real powers in the family. He is a constant and while you don’t find him in any of the magazine spreads or celebrity tabloids, you often find him in the wings of any event, ready to help his family. Even in these photos, he’s often in the background, buttoning up a child’s coat, setting up a meal, cleaning up a mess. The occasional one where he’s in the focus, he’s surrounded by his surrogate family.

 While he admonishes me and refers to himself as “only a butler”, I think otherwise. He dotes on them like a grandfather and it is very clear that they share that feeling back.

 A sentiment that’s only cemented when he starts doling out baby pictures. “Dick really liked the disco scene—”

 There’s a loud screeching in the manor and before I know it, Dick and Jason are hurtling down the main steps, yelling at Alfred to stop. Tim is hanging behind, his face beat red, while Stephanie is laughing loudly. Cassandra doesn’t know what to make of this and looks at Damian in askance, who only scowls. In a corner, I see Bruce rubbing his forehead, a wry grin on his face.

 A family. That is certainly what they are.

#batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #batfam #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #damian wayne #jason todd #nightwing #robin #fanfic

[purplesurveys]

626

HI BELATED HAPPY NEW YEAR

First things first, did you have a good year? I would say most of it was good. I did most of the stuff I said I was going to do so I’m giving myself pats on the back for that. Things just kinda took a turn for the worse by the end of the year what with an ambiguous end to my most recent semester (I don’t have two of my seven final grades yet because my prof likes seeing her students suffer, I guess) and losing Nacho, so it all balances out.

How old did you turn this year? I turned 21. Which means legality in the US, but I’ve been legal in the Philippines for three years now so it doesn’t warrant much of a celebration lol.

Do you feel your age? I guess. There are days where it’s very tempting to feel inadequate because there are many 21-year-olds in my social circle who have their own business, are grabbing opportunities here and there (they’re in a successful band, are junior radio jocks, hired as emcees, serve as UAAP courtside reporters, to name a few), already make their own money, etc., but I just have to remind myself that everybody is moving at their own pace and that in my case, at least I’m not behind and that I’m moving remarkably fairly for my age.

Did your appearance change in anyway? Nah I BARELY did anything to my look this year. I did not go for a haircut at all in 2019 and now my hair is crazy long. I’m keeping it untrimmed until my grad shoot, so the long hair will stay with me for a while.

Post your favorite selfie. I would but Tumblr doesn’t really work the same way as Twitter where I’d feel more free to share photos of myself haha.

If you traveled, where did you go? My family went to Pangasinan, Bicol, Tagaytay, and Cavite this year. I also took my friends on a day trip to Nasugbu shortly before school started in August as sort of a last hurrah for our summer vacation.

Which fashion trends did you love? Which fashion trends did you hate? I initially liked chunky sneakers until everyone bought their own pair solely so that they’d feel like they’re one of the cool kids – it quickly became uncool after that. I was a fan of mom jeans (still am), high-waisted jeans, culottes, and tops in muted colors and had cute little bows in the chest area. I hated bike shorts and scrunchies, and slowly got tired of off-shoulder tops by the end of the year. I never understood tracksuits and never bought one of my own, and was also never a fan of hype fashion like DBTK shirts.

What was your favorite article of clothing this year? Post a pic if possible? I looooooooved the floral romper and the two-piece ensemble I was both able to snag at Feliz.

What song sums up this year for you? Buwan by juan karlos, the two reasons being that the song exploded in 2019 and because it was Nacho’s favorite and he made a million jokes about it.

What album came out and has been on heavy rotation since then? This question is a little vague so I’ll answer it in two ways. In my case, I definitely played Beyonce’s Homecoming album TOO MUCH last year. But radio-wise, it looked like Ariana Grande and Camila Cabello had stellar years.

What was your favorite movie of the year? I had several favorite movies, but here they are put in order: Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Midsommar, and Toy Story 4.

Did an actor/actress catch your attention for the first time this year? Florence fucking Pugh. Also I just realized how attractive Timothee Chalamet is, although I’ve been aware of him way before 2019 and haven’t watched any of his material.

Favorite new TV show? I watched the first few episodes of Stranger Things but I found it too slow-paced so I let it go easily. Other than that I didn’t really get into any 2019 shows because I’m not a big TV person, but I did recently get into Descendants of the Sun so that’s new for me! Queer Eye will also always have a place in my heart.

Which new ship/fandom has taken over a lot of your time, attention, and tears? I’m a little too old for that now but I did heavily get into the Try Guys. I don’t ship any of them together but I just genuinely love each of them, them as a group, and all the content they put out.

What food did you try for the first time? Ooh there’s a lot. Foie gras, aligue (crab fat) ramen, Bloody Mary, pistachios, a vanilla frappe from Starbucks, Tim Hortons food, ji pai (Taiwanese fried chicken) and pad thai, to name a few. I’m so so so pumped to try out even more new food in 2020.

Did you make any big permanent changes this year? I stopped talking to my brother.

What was one nice thing you did for someone else? Being one of the only two people in my org who can drive, I’ve always offered lifts to my friends. I don’t say anything even if where I’m taking them is entirely off my normal route, which frustrates Gabie, but honestly I just like helping my friends and making their commute easier for them. I also checked up on Nacho a day before he passed. I regret being too civil, but at least I checked up on him. Not a lot of people did that in his last few days.

What was one nice thing you did for yourself? Ok so one thing my org does is hold journalism workshops to schools across the country. The org is a bit small and not all the members are reliable, so what usually happens is that the same group of people attend the workshops and teach and facilitate – me being a part of that same group of people. Given that we have class during weekdays and these workshops happen on weekends, the schedule can be very demanding, especially if these schools request a shit-ton of topics for us to teach them. I sort of looked out for myself more this year by declining to go to a couple of the workshops, so that I can experience actually having a full weekend to myself.

Did you develop a new obsession? I discovered a YouTuber who is insanely good at Mario Kart 8 and I watched a ton of his playthroughs in 2019. Oh, and MUKBANG ASMRs. It’s an insanely unpopular opinion but I love chewing noises, dude.

Did you vote? It was the senatorial elections this year and yes, I did vote. None of my votes got in, of course, because unfortunately the rest of the Filipino electorate don’t know any better. I was part of a real-time fact-checking group that day for extra class credit, and I will never forget the collective groan and moan that came out of that room when the first batch of results came out on the news and we saw the same corrupt, power-hungry, money-hungry, anti-poor politicians top the polls.

Did you move? No. I’ve lived in the same house since 2008.

Did you get a job? I did not, BUT I did get an internship which I was pretty stoked about.

Did you get a pet? I did not. I don’t want anyone else but my dog, who I’ve had also since 2008.

Do you regret not doing anything? Sure. I have never taken Gab’s mom out on a girls’ night kind of date, and I always told myself that I was going to finally do that in 2019 – which I didn’t. I’m so going to make sure we do it this year. I’m also sad that I didn’t get to see Angela more times last year. And that I didn’t do more for Nacho, so now I have to live with the loss of him forever.

Do you regret doing something? Nothing is coming to mind so I guess nothing major. <-- Pretty much, thankfully.

Have you done anything that scared you? Tried vaping, did shisha for the first time, walk alone in Katipunan, be stuck at a restaurant table with Gab’s (very stoic) dad while she went to the washroom, to name a few lol. On a deeper note, I was a bad girlfriend several times over 2019 and it rocked the relationship quite a bit.

Did anyone/thing make you so mad it stayed with you for days? Yeah absolutely. I hated the people who went too far when it came to Nach, especially his ‘friends’ who didn’t hesitate to turn his back on him. And when things finally crashed and burned, I was too fucking pissed at everybody to even say something about it.

Did you lose anyone close to you? Yes.

Did you fall in love? For most of 2019 as with 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, and 2018, yes.

Did you fall out of love? Nope.

Did you start a new relationship? I did not.

Did you go through a break up? I almost had to, but we sat each other down several times in the year to fix what had to be fixed, and it’s been very smooth sailing since.

Did you have to cut ties to someone? They weren’t people I was close to in any extent, but I’ve blocked several people from a certain elite school because I hate that school.

Who was important to you this year but wasn’t important last year? No one strongly comes to mind since I basically just retained my circle, but I did meet Gab’s closest cousin this year for the first time, and anyone who’s family to her is automatically important to me, so I’d go with him.

Who wasn’t as important to you this year as they were last year? This is going to sound completely awful, but I guess my college blockmates. I was always sort of the ~black sheep in our small batch of 7 while all of them are incredibly close with one another. 2019 was the year that I stopped trying to hang out with them, because I realized that no matter how hard I try, we’re really just on different wavelengths and I can’t keep faking my expressions and mannerisms just so I feel accepted or so that I can survive a day with them.

If you could have a do over on one thing you did, would you take it? Yeah, I definitely wish I cut some of my classes much less.

What was the best moment of the year for you? What was the worst? There were a lot of high moments from 2019 if we’re being honest. I liked taking Gab and her dad out for a ONE Championship pay-per-view back in January, I liked being invited to her dad’s birthday dinner, my road trip to Nasugbu, every day that my dad was here, going to the beach, partying for Halloween with friends, seeing old friends again in our org Christmas party, that one night Gab and I went to BGC just to bar-hop, our fancypants date that was also in BGC, and I’m sure there’s a bunch more that I’ve forgotten to mention. The absolute worst moment came at the very minute I pieced it together and found out *surprise surprise* Nacho was gone forever. I don’t think I was able to speak for two hours. When I did, I ended up crying the rest of the night until I passed out.

Did anything happen that you were sure would change you as a person but it really didn’t? Not-so-serious answer, but I thought I was gonna live my entire life without needing injections to my mouth, but lo and behold I went to the dentist in December and got THREE. I thought I was going to pass out, I thought it was going to hurt, I thought I was going to thrash around my seat in terror... I ended up not even feeling anything. I dunno if it’s because I got a lower dose of whatever, or if my dentist is just better than others, but the whole experience went much better than I expected. This may sound shallow but I have the biggest needle-and-any-sharp-object phobia, so this is a lot coming from me hahaha.

Did anything happen to you that you were sure wouldn’t change you as a person but it did? Watching Portrait of a Lady on Fire. Gab just needed a companion to the cinema that night; I had no idea what the movie was going to be about and even read the entire plot while trailers were showing – in the end, it’s been me who’s been talking about the movie way way more than she.

What are you most proud of accomplishing? Not killing myself. The 2010s was just me internally betting on when I’d finally pull the plug, but I had what it took to get me to 2020, apparently.

What have you learned about yourself this year that you didn’t know in the years prior? That everything you do and say on the internet is permanent, and you’ll forever have to live with the the consequences that come from them.

Did your opinion of anyone change for the better? Andrew. Before 2019, I found him so horrifyingly clingy, so chatty, and he was always trying to be close to everyone (he still does). It drove the introvert side of my ambivert-ness absolutely NUTS. At one point I realized he wasn’t going to change, so I just gave him a chance and turns out, he’s a great friend and an even better co-worker hahaha.

Did your opinion of anyone change for worse? Everybody who claimed to be Nach’s friend but didn’t find it hard to say vile stuff about him.

If you make resolutions, did you complete them this year? I told myself I was going to make a one-photo-a-day private Instagram dump for 2019, but I stopped as early as January 27 LMAOOOOO. I’m doing it again this year and I’m much more determined to keep it going.

If you make resolutions, what will your resolutions be for the coming year? Keep my 2020 Instagram active, be able to travel... and be happier, basically.

If you could go on an adventure during the remaining days of the year, where would you go and what would you do?  Who would you go this? A little too late my dude. I’m typing this out in 2020.

What do you wish for others for the coming year? What do you wish for yourself? I just hope everybody on here feels a little bit more warmth and happiness, dude. We all deserve it.

#survey #surveys

[howsmyhairlook]

Texts From Last Night Writing Prompt:

•Brand hosted events. When a baby influencer gets the invite to their first ever event, with all the swag and monogrammed gifts, that was when you knew your clout was climbing in the right direction. All those over-staged flat lays and maintaining the grid aesthetic had finally proven worth the effort.

My first brand hosted event was in NYC. I’d been invited to a few, but I still had some dignity, and took my desire to be a well respected influencer seriously, and so I had declined the ones that simply didn’t make sense for what I was trying to accomplish with my account. I was no sell out, Mr. Mhmm was not an easy buy bitch willing to promote shit I didn’t actually like. Flat tummy tea? Pfft. Hair gummies? Please. My locks were natural and salon maintained like they should be. I didn’t mess with the work of my stylist. He’d cut my ears off if I did.

I knew holding out on accepting events that didn’t necessarily match my vibe would delay the instant gratification everyone craved, but I actually wanted to stay true to what I had been building. It was a slow process and one that wasn’t without blood, sweat (ew) and a few tears. So when an up and coming clothing brand, owned by someone who was out and proudly queer invited me to a fashion show during Pride, I RSVP’d faster than I could deny the squeal of delight upon reading their email.

Attending an event like this was not just a fun weekend away, it was also work. Having my flight, hotel and of course all the food and drinks when I attended their events paid for wasn’t exactly “free”, I was expected to in return post no less than twenty stories highlighting the goings on through the weekend. At the time, I thought it was an easy price to pay. My insta was going to be a three day weekend promo. I had it all planned out, I’d be the best attendee they had ever extended an invite to.

The night was going perfectly. The food was delicious, drinks were flowing, and the first of three fashion shows scheduled for the weekend had me doing multiple double takes in the best possible way. I made sure to snap a photo of each piece I loved and gushed appropriately about it on my feed. My followers were loving it, and the brand had shared my stories on their stories. It felt like the perfect execution of how an influencer and a brand could collaborate together.

The second night was an early evening show that delved into menswear and BOY was I feeling it. This particular fashion show had the models mingling among the crowd allowing everyone to get a more up close look at the clothing. Let’s be honest, though, the man candy was where my eyes were landing. And, because I’m me, I dressed to impress.

Once or twice I was confused for being part of the show. It was quite the ego boost. Not to mention a compliment to the designer that my vintage Gucci suit jacket fit into the vibe well enough to have me being confused for a model. The only difference was that instead of wearing any kind of slacks like the models had on, I was wearing tailored shorts to show off my argyle socks which were being held up by leather garters. I never skipped an opportunity to show off such an underrated accessory.

I also didn’t skip an opportunity to enjoy the free drinks each time one of the waitstaff would pass by with a tray. Selfies were being taken, numbers were given out. People were telling others to slide into their DMs. I’d given my number to more than a handful of people I’d had conversations with. It was exactly as you’d imagine a gathering of tipsy people might progress.

When the evening seemed to be winding down and the room had thinned out, I decided it was time to head back to my suite for the night, grateful the fashion show had been held in the same hotel the brand had booked my room. As I waited for the elevator to arrive, my phone, which had been buzzing most of the night buzzed again, only this time, it vibrated in my pocket to indicate I’d received a text from an unknown number.

Swiping it open with my thumb I smiled upon reading the words.•

(870) It was great chatting with you tonight. Too bad you decided to leave…

•I’d spoken with so many people this evening, and given my number out to the majority of them, I had no idea who was on the other side. My response was a polite thank you before asking who it was. The speech bubble popped up, then disappeared for a couple of seconds before another text came through.•

(870) Also, wanted to tell you, I really liked those socks you were wearing.

•An odd compliment but I was happy to take it because I loved my socks. Then, another text came before I could reply to the still nameless person.•

(870) There’s something sensual about taking off a pair of socks.

•Um.

What?

The elevator had arrived but I ignored it, instead turning around and looking throughout the lobby to see if anyone had followed me. I wasn’t lucky enough to find my mystery texter giving me the obvious sock lover vibes so I replied again to ask who it was. Instead of an answer, another text came through.•

(870) A bunch of us have headed to the club down the road, you should join. I’ll tell you who I am if you show.

•I hesitated, but not for very long. The mystery was too much, I HAD to know. My reply was quick, telling them I was on my way. I kept my eyes on my phone as I made my way through the hotel lobby, but my unnamed texter left me on read. Tempting me even further to get there as quickly as I could. I didn’t even know the gender of the person I was going to meet, not that it mattered to me.

Maybe I was being foolish going out on my own to meet some person at a club in a city I didn’t really know that well, but my fearlessness was fuelled by alcohol and I’d most likely realize the error in judgement in the morning. For now, I was hailing a cab to take me a mere couple of blocks just so I could meet this person sooner, walking would only delay the reveal of what I was anticipating to be an Ah Ha moment. Any amount of patience I normally possessed had vacated my faculties quicker than my followers had liked my posts from the show earlier in the evening.

My arrival at the club was anti-climatic.

Nobody was waiting outside for me. Rude. Then again, I wasn’t some Pretty in Pink girl who was coming of age, I was a grown ass man following the request of a semi-weird text just to learn who the sender was. For the record, though, I could totally rock the colour pink, if I wanted. I wasn’t biased when it came to colours I’d wear.

By some kind of luck. No, actually, it was by the grace of New York clubbing standards, it was still early despite the actual time, and there was no line to get in. I found myself taking in the atmosphere and sounds while eyeballing every group of people I passed on my way to the bar, staring a little too hard at their faces, hoping one might strike as familiar. They didn’t.

I placed my request for a drink with the bartender, my buzz was fading and with it, my gusto to see this through. His smile was easy and friendly as he spoke.• “One Last Word for the dapper dresser.”

•He winked and I slid him some cash with one hand while the other lifted the glass so I could down the entire drink in a couple of gulps. The gin flowed effortlessly down my throat, and I tapped my fingers on the bartop, trying to decide if I wanted a second. As I was deciding, a deep raspy voice sounded from behind me.• “I’ll take a Pussyfoot, please and another here for Mr. Mhmm.”

•I froze. His voice. Oh my Gucci. My body had a visceral reaction to it as I felt the rumble along with the sound of it. I wanted to hear more, I didn’t even care that he had ordered the strangest sounding drink I’d ever heard. He moved to stand next to me, and I turned to get a look at who I assumed was my mystery texter.

He had been at the event earlier in the night, and we had spoken, though I didn’t recall giving him my number. My eyes scanned over his body and I could feel them growing wider the further they travelled. Long gone was his suit and tie. He’d made a costume change, and was now in full leather gear. Where his hair had been artfully tousled, it was now slicked back. More than all of that, which was QUITE the sight to behold on its own, from the lines at the corners of his eyes and between his brows, I realized he was at least twenty-five years older than me. He chuckled deeply at my reaction and didn’t that sound just hit me right in the groin. I shifted from foot to foot, trying to shake off the reaction my body was having. It didn’t work.

I was TRULY speechless and this leather daddy was letting me suffer. He said nothing until our drinks had been made and delivered. I wanted to ask what was in his, but I was pretty sure I’d caught a glimpse of an egg yolk being dropped into his glass so I took my own and swallowed half before I could get my tongue to form proper words.•

I don’t remember giving you my number. Also, thank you for the drink. How did you get it?

•He grinned at my jumbled thoughts but seemed to make perfect sense of what I was trying to say. He took his time sipping at his drink before speaking, and I got the distinct impression he enjoyed making others squirm. The silence was killer but I resisted the urge to fill the space, willing to wait to hear his voice again. He didn’t disappoint.• “You’re welcome. A friend of mine passed your number on to me after I wouldn’t shut up about your garters.”

•The reminder of my beloved accessory had me looking down at them, and I laughed as I realized they were leather, no wonder he liked them so much.• Oh yes. Nobody likes slouchy socks, right?

•I snapped my mouth closed when his grin turned slow and lecherous. I’d said his magic words, apparently, and most likely reminded him of his text about how sensual sock removal could be. I held my breath waiting again for him to deem enough time had passed before he was ready to speak some more.• “I prefer them to be pulled as high as they can go so I can take my time removing them.”

•Yep. Definitely my mystery texter. But now what?!• What do you want with me? What’s your name? Do you have some kind of sock fetish? I’m not judging if you do, honest. I just can’t seem to shut my mouth up, this kind of thing has never happened to me.

•Instead of answering my twenty questions, he nudged my drink closer to me, picking up his own and then stepped away from the bar. When I grabbed the glass, he nodded his head for me to follow. OF COURSE, I was hot on his heels. I wanted all the answers. For how much he had no problem doing all the speaking during the text exchange, he was unsettlingly silent.

And yet, I followed him all the way to a curtained off area that was entirely private. There was a small table that sat low to the floor in front of a leather sofa. He sat down first, the leather of his pants creaking against the sofa. Then, he placed his drink on the table before tapping the spot beside him. I moved to sit, leaving some space between us. He grinned, not seeming to mind that I hadn’t landed my ass right where his hand had indicated I should be. Once I was seated did he decide to speak, answering only the questions he wanted to.•

“My name is Charles. You can call me Charlie. Or Daddy if you prefer.” •He winked at me before allowing his eyes to sweep over my body the way I had done to him at the bar. His eyes stayed on my socks as he continued.• “I really do love your socks. Can I see them closer?”

•My head tilted in confusion, first because I was not the type of person to call anyone daddy regardless of my wide open sexuality. Second because I was not really sure how much closer he wanted my socks to get when we were already only a couple of feet apart. He took my silence as hesitation and reached down to grab one of my feet, putting it in his lap and holding it there until he was certain I wasn’t going to pull my foot away.

Charlie began to run his hand up my shin, his fingers were light and gentle, tracing over the different coloured shapes. When he got to the top of the sock, his index finger dipped below the elastic, pulling it away from my skin and allowing it to lightly snap against my leg. Such an innocent act felt obscene and dirty.

I didn’t know whether or not I was turned on or off. I did know I wanted to see where he was going with this. Next his fingers moved to the garter at the top of my calf, he traced over it the same way he did my sock. Taking his time, studying the details. I took his low grunt as approval. I knew the leather was soft and supple, not to mention high quality and by the sound he had made, he knew it, too.

His other hand had moved to the lace on my shoe, pulling the bow loose and grabbing ahold of the heel to slip my shoe off completely. I thought maybe I might be getting lucky with a foot rub...

I was wrong.

SO very, very wrong.

I found myself full of shock when he leaned forward and put his mouth on my foot. Not a kiss, or anything sweet and simple, but completely wrapped his lips around my toes and filled his mouth with my foot. I felt his tongue through my sock trying to push between my toes, the fabric growing wet with his efforts. He moaned around my foot and I felt the vibrations all the way across my sole.

That was the moment I decided any chances of being turned on were long gone. Not even alcohol could help me be okay with this. I was not into this the way Charlie very clearly was. I pulled my foot back and sputtered as I shook my head.• Nope. No way. No. I’m sorry but no matter how hot you are, and how much my dick loves the sound of your voice, can I get on board with toe sucking.

•I stood, and stepped backward, abandoning my unfinished drink. He seemed to be expecting my reaction and I watched in horror as he grabbed my shoe and began to smell the inside of it. That definitively answered the fetish question he had ignored.

If anyone noticed I was all but running to the exit, they didn’t say anything, thankfully. I probably could have walked at a normal speed but I was not looking to find myself a new hook up or have any more drinks, and I certainly was not going to wait around for Charlie to finish enjoying himself with my shoe. Absolutely not.

As I settled into the cab, and gave the name of my hotel to the driver, I decided the separation of such an amazing pair of shoes was worth the loss just to bring the entire foot blowjob experience to an end. This was what I deserved for attempting to mix a working weekend with someone else’s pleasure. With a relieved sigh, I resigned myself that next time I received a mystery text, I was going to ignore it the way I had ignored all the signs Charlie had been giving me to indicate he had a foot fetish.•

[cait-writes-stuff]

The Campaign - Batmom POTUS

Warning: This fic is highly politicized and deals with a lot of political issues that currently plague the United States. That being said, this chapter includes mention of blatant racism, sexism, and Islamophobia. 

Part 1

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9579392/chapters/21659414

When you announced your candidacy to the country is kicked up a storm and for the briefest moment you had the satisfaction of stealing the spotlight from the rhetoric spewing mad man. But soon enough the real work had to begin. You had an election to win.

You started by hiring a campaign manager and spent a lot of the next few week in and out of interviews with news outlets and politicians alike, talking about your policies and the direction you wanted to take the country in. Naturally you had people who liked your progressive ideas but you also faced a lot of people who didn’t agree with you. You took their criticisms with grace and poise, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get everyone on your side but there were just some issues that you would never sway your stance on.

After the first wave of interviews you went on a tour around the country to give speeches in some of the contested states. You were admittedly a bit exhausted from the non stop traveling but your last stop was in Gotham and the crowd was more than welcoming to you. You shook off your eagerness to see your family again to give your home city the best presentation you could muster.

“Ummi!” A voice called from the crowd. Your heart lept thinking it was your youngest son calling out to you but was admitted a little disappointed to see that it was a young boy calling out excitedly to his hijab clad mother, pointing in your direction as your body guards led you through the crowd. You gave the boy a warm smile when you approached him and waved at him.

“Salam, how are you today young man?” You greeted kindly. He waved shyly back but his mother gently prompted him to respond to you.

“Wa Alaikumussalam wa Rahmatullah.” He greeted kindly in return. “Ummi says that you’re going to be the President someday. Is that true?” He asked innocently.

“That’s the hope.” You laughed warmly.

“Mrs. Wayne, might I ask you a question” The mother said capturing your attention.

“Of course.” You said.

“Luthor and his followers are speaking of banning groups of people from entering the country and deporting others. My husband is still trying to immigrate from Afghanistan. Please Mrs. Wayne, I’m worried for the future of my family.” The woman fretted, visibly upset over the uncertainty of the future for her family.

“I promise you if I’m elected I will never ban any people from seeking asylum in this country. Banning entry for any group of people due to religion, country origin, or any other excuse they can come up with is against the ideals of this nation. In the words of Lady Liberty herself: Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. As president I will protect that ideal.” You promised. She smiled a watery smile and enveloped you in a tight hug. Your body guards lurched forward to separate her from you but you waved them off. She cried her thanks and the older woman stepped back and framed your cheeks with both of her hands.

“I will be proud to call you my President, Mrs. Wayne.” She said.

“Thank you, ma’am. It is my duty to protect all peoples of this great nation from oppression.” You said.

“What about the wall?” A hispanic man asked who was watching the exchange between you and the Muslim mother.

“There will be no wall. Ever.” You responded firmly. It was almost laughable that Lex would even consider making that a campaign point but fearful isolationists ate up the idea of a physical barrier between our neighbor and close trade partner.

“Ma’am. It’s time to go.” Your campaign manager said ushering you to the stage. You nodded and waved to the crowd and thanked them graciously for their support.

The speech went off without a hitch and you walked away feeling you had the majority of the city on your side. You didn’t show it but you were chomping at the bit to go home and spend time with your family for the first time in weeks.

“Lunch?” Your campaign manager asked when you safely in the car again and driving away from the venue.

“Unless I’m meeting with someone, I’d much rather go home.” You answered kicking off your heels.

“You’re the boss, ma’am.” She said and relayed the instructions the driver. The rest of the drive she got you all caught up on the latest polls and talking points. Luthor was still ahead of you in the polls but your campaign was starting to build steam around the country. There was still a lot of work to do in the traditionally conservative states though. For now though, you had the weekend off recharge before you went on another press tour.

For most of the campaign you and Luthor were neck and neck in the polls. Your campaign manager was out of her mind trying to come up with a way to get the upperhand.

“Well what’s your social media presence like?” Tim asked her one day.

“We’ve been pushing her events and issues on Facebook and Twitter. That’s not our problem.” She argued. Tim raised a skeptical eyebrow and laughed.

“Seriously? I’m no expert here but I think the campaign could benefit from a more human media presence. Post a selfie or two on Instagram, answer questions one on one on Twitter, become a meme on Tumblr. Right now she looks like one of those lifeless robot politicians. You need to let her natural people charm shine. Just sayin’.” Tim rebutted with a shrug.

Your campaign manager didn’t respond but you noticed your social media team revamped itself and your various social media accounts became more normalized and approachable. Your numbers started to rise again but it was Dick and the rest of your boys that you had to thank for sending you into a comfortable lead.

A week or two after Tim discussed the social media issue with your campaign manager a photo was leaked on Twitter and started to trend. You came across it yourself when you were surfing the internet yourself.

It was a photo taken backstage at your latest event. No one on your team took this picture and it certainly wasn’t staged. Bruce was on his phone, talking over some business. Jason and Tim were arguing over something. Well, Jason was arguing. Tim was bent over his handheld game system ignoring him. You were sitting in the background on the couch reading notes on a speech you had been given while Damian napped across your lap. Dick was bent over facing away from the camera to pick up a pen that you had accidently dropped. It was basically a perfect representation of your family and the internet ate it up.

Dick’s butt was quickly trending on twitter. You read a ridiculous tweet that said ‘A vote for Wayne is a vote for this butt in the oval office #firstbutt’. On tumblr your family photo inspired a popular ‘draw the squad’ meme. The publicity generated from the leaked photograph shot your approval rating up in the polls. It would seem Tim was right in that seeing your ridiculous but lovable family in their natural habitat humanized you.

“Did you see it?” Dick came into the room with a giant grin on his face.

“Hmmm. Yes. ‘#Firstbutt’ is trending on twitter.” You commented casually, continuing on the paperwork you were.

“Sally says you’re up in the polls for women between 18 and 35.” He grinned with pride, plopping himself down beside you on the couch. You rolled your eyes and gave him a motherly kiss on the cheek.

“I’m not touching that comment with a ten foot pole.” You said. Secretly you were a little bit proud of your family and all the positivity that drummed up around the country. No one could claim that you didn’t care for your family, or so you thought.

When you started to have a comfortable lead in the polls, Luthor’s supporters started showing up to your speeches in protest. With their new presence your body guards stopped letting you stop to talk to people like the Muslim mother you had met or a polite group of feminists that had serious questions about your various policies.

“A woman’s place is in the kitchen not running the country.” One red faced balding man shouted at you. He got various looks of disgust from the people surrounding him. You kept your head held up high and continued walking to your destination.

“Terrorist whore!” Another shouted waving a sign that said ‘send your husband’s bastard back where he came from’. Your heart clenched at the sight and your vision went red. Your step hesitated and you wanted nothing more than to break away from your guards and deck this disgusting creature. That was your son. Criticize you, call you slurs, sure. You had a thick skin and could take it but you weren’t about to let anyone attack your family. In your rage you were about to approach the man but Sally, your campaign manager, rooted her hand on your shoulder and stopped you from doing anything that might look bad.

“People are watching ma’am.” She reminded you.

“I want him out of here.” You hissed. “The other protesters can stay, I don’t fucking care. But I will not stand by and let them drag my child through the mud. My family, especially my children, are off limits. Do I make myself clear?” You snarled. Sally nodded and did not attempt to argue with you about how you would get heat from the opposition for kicking out a protester. You made it clear that this one instance was non negotiable. You would take the heat later if you had to.

“Yes Ma’am. I’ll take care of it immediately.” She responded dutifully. She scurried off to pass on the message to the security guards on hand who would take care of the situation. You took a few calming breaths before stepping onto the stage like nothing had ever happened.

After all these months of campaigning, you had gotten used to remaining composed under pressure.

You didn’t have a lot of contact with Luthor until the televised national debates. It had come down to just you and him. That was choice that America had to choose from. You or him.

You hoped to god that after all this work they would choose you.

“Ah, Mrs. Wayne it’s good see you again. How are the kids?” He asked with a cold sneer. It was just you and him meeting before the first debate but you didn’t trust that no one wasn’t listening.

“They’re fine.” You answered curtly.

“Aw, why so cold [Y/N]?” He asked, taunting you by using your informal first name. You wanted to slap him across his grinning face. “Surely there’s something you’d like to say to me?” He prompted with a sickeningly sweet lilt to his voice.

“Oh I have many things I would like to say to you, Luthor.” You said, your voice lowering dangerously. “But I won’t give you the satisfaction.”

“Politics aside, we both want what’s best for the country.” He said, playing up a look of innocence. You didn’t buy what that grinning snake was trying to feed you. Some people might eat up all of his bullshit but you saw right through it. “I’m going to make America great again, after all.” He grinned trying to provoke you. Your eyes narrowed to an intense glare that would combust most men into flames.

You wanted to scream at him, call him out on his bullshit, expose him for the lying poisonous snake he was but you restrained yourself. Tonight was about staying composed under pressure, showing the country that you were presidential in poise and speech. You weren’t going to let him get under your skin like this.

He chuckled once and frowned when he didn’t elicit the response he was hoping for.

“May the best man win.” He said holding out his hand. You didn’t take it.

“Woman.” You corrected before turning on your heel and walking gracefully away from him to take your place off stage for the debate to begin.

As you participated in the series of debates your support only seemed to grow. While some remained vigilant in their support for Luthor’s poisonous rhetoric refusing to acknowledge any opinions other than their own based on their own bias’ and prejudices, many saw your poise and composure during the debates and saw a woman that they wanted to represent them on the international stage.

You knew you couldn’t get everyone on your side, and a lot of your proposed policies were more liberal than some would be comfortable with, you were confident going into the election night. Your family was with you in the campaign’s headquarters in Gotham and you were prepared for whatever might come out of this night.

One way or another, the people’s voice would be heard.

“What do we do if you don’t win, Mom.?” Damian asked, looking up at you.

“I-I don’t know.” You answered honestly. You didn’t want to think of what would happen if, god forbid, Luthor won.  

“If she doesn’t win this country is full of idiots and this country is fucked anyway.” Jason said crossing his arms over his chest.

“We need to respect the public’s opinion, Jason.” You reminded him gently, but on the inside you were dying. What if all your hard work, all the care and passion you put into this campaign was all for naught?

“Fuck them.” He shrugged. You gave him a look of motherly disapproval before Sally rushed into the room telling you to turn on the TV. You took the remote off the table and turned on the television to one of the news outlets. You felt Bruce slip beside you and intertwine his fingers with yours.

“With ninety eight percent of the precincts reporting, [Y/N] Wayne is the projected winner of this hard fought campaign. Wayne will be making history as America’s very first fem-” You watched wide eyed at the TV coverage. This was happening. This was actually fucking happening. You won. You did hear the rest of what the reporter was saying because you were enveloped in hugs from all sides by your family. Your election team and supporters erupted in celebratory cheers but you were focused on your family.

“Congrats Madam President.” Bruce whispered, lifting your chin and pressing a soft kiss to you lips.

This fic was released previously on my Patreon page. Want immediate access to updates on this series? Become a patron today!

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#batmom #potus #batmom potus #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne imagines #batman imagine #batman imagines #dc imagine #dc imagines #damian wayne #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson

[pcwpolwrestling]

Extreme Election Night 2018 Aftermath/Partial Shutdown Update

PCW NEWSLINE – 12/27/2018

Trump’s Surprise Trip to Iraq

Update on Shutdown (Red Brand and Blue Brand shows)

Extreme Election Night 2018 Results

New Universal PCW Champion

The Establishment, Sports Entertainment Corporation (SEC), and Corporate SportsEntertainment Programming Nation (CSPN) Up in Arms Over Universal Title Match

Progressive Alliance Not Happy Either

==

[A righteously indignant actress Alyssa Milano at a press conference.]

Alyssa Milano: Donald Trump is the first PCW CEO since 2002 not to visit our troops at Christmas-

PCW CEO DONALD TRUMP VISITS TROOPS WITH NEW CHAMPION RAY McAVAY PCW CEO Donald Trump flew to Iraq Christmas night with his wife Melania, new Universal PCW Champion ‘Red Solo Plastic Cup’ Ray McAvay, and McAvay’s valets and West Texas Adult Entertainment Legends Dark (McAvay’s wife) and Stormy.

While in Iraq, Trump and his wife thanked the troops for their service and posed for selfies with the soldiers. Trump also signed autographs and several MAGA hats while he was there.

McAvay also thanked the troops and Dark and Stormy posed for pictures inside a hot tub.

A group of soldiers line up around a portable hot tub with Dark and Stormy inside. The ladies meet and greet the soldiers and pose for pictures. They also give away the official PCW Ray McAvay “Show Up. Clock In. Shut Up. Get to Work” t-shirt.

[Dark, her black hair wet and slicked back, gets ready to take a photo with a young soldier. Both ladies are wearing dark t-shirts and their Daisy Duke cut-off shorts inside the hot tub.]

[Dark puts her arm around the soldier.]

Dark: Say cheese!

[And the photo is taken.]

SHUTDOWN UPDATE No progress reported in ending the ongoing Red Brand/Blue Brand show partial shutdown. PCW CEO Donald Trump shows no sign of standing down anytime soon. Progressive Alliance leaders Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer show no sign of standing down anytime soon.

Both Pelosi and Schumer vow there’s no chance in hell Trump will get the security enhancements he wants at PCW shows. Trump vows no chance in hell he’ll reopen the Red Brand and Blue Brand shows until he gets the security enhancements.

So what happens when the proverbial unstoppable force meets the proverbial immovable object?

Oh right…we’re talking about business as usual in Washington D.C.

The only good news coming out of this is only two shows have been cancelled as a result of the shutdown: the final Blue Brand show of the year this past weekend in Boston, Massachusetts and the final Red Brand show in Charlotte, North Carolina.

‘Sports Entertainment Genius’ Mr. McMann continues to call the shutdown an absolute joke that hurts the people ‘who make money for PCW.’ McMann again decries the amount of income to be lost because of the cancelled shows and again complains about the PCW Heartland Brand being allowed to continue to prepare to tape their new bi-weekly show and then embark on their first round of house shows in over a year.

The owner of PCW Heartland, Dawn McGill, had this to say: “after thirty years of both the high muckity-mucks of the American Patriots and Progressive Alliance ignoring the middle and lower echelon of the pro wrestling world, I find it refreshing that someone in authority actually seems to be looking out for them.”

She also added: “*BLEEP* Mr. McMann and the horse he rode in on.”

FULL EXTREME ELECTION NIGHT 2018 RESULTS OHIO SENATE MEDALLION MATCH: Sherrod Brown (Progressive Alliance) defeats Jim Renacci (American Patriots)

NORTH DAKOTA SENATE MEDALLION MATCH: Kevin Cramer (AP) defeats Heidi Heitkamp (PA)

Fox News (Sean Hannity and Tucker Carlson) defeat MSNBC (Rachel Maddow and Lawrence O’Donnell) and CNN (Don Lemon and Chris Cuomo)

MISSOURI SENATE MEDALLION MATCH: Josh Hawley (AP) defeats Claire McCaskill (PA)

FLORIDA SENATE MEDALLION MATCH: Rick Scott (AP) defeats Bill Nelson (PA)

ARIZONA SENATE MEDALLION MATCH: Krysten Simema (PA) defeats Martha McSally (AP)

MICHIGAN SENATE MEDALLION MATCH: Debbie Stabenow (PA) defeats John James (AP)

TEXAS SENATE MEDALLION MATCH: Ted Cruz (AP) defeats Beto O’Rourke (PA)

UNIVERSAL PCW TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH: Sports Entertainment Corporation: P.M.C. Banks and Charlie Blackwell (American Patriots) © defeat Union Jack and NPC (Progressive Alliance) and Weapons of Mass Destruction: A. Tom Bomb and Hy Drogen Bomb (Independent)

HOUSE WAR GAMES MATCH: Progressive Alliance defeat the American Patriots

MAIN EVENT/UNIVERSAL TITLE MATCH: ‘Red Solo Plastic Cup’ Ray McAvay (Independent/Les Miserables) defeats ‘Wall Street Market Analyst with the Man Crush on ESPN’s Kirk Herbstreit’ Kirk Walstreit, and ‘The One Man Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism.

‘RED SOLO PLASTIC CUP’ RAY McAVAY IS THE NEW UNIVERSAL CHAMPION

MAIN EVENT: Extreme Election Night 2018 – Universal PCW Title Match

15th MINUTE [McAvay slaps on an inverted face lock…hooks the arm…and pulls backwards and up.]

Johnny Suave: DRAGON SLEEPER!

[Dark and Stormy end the striptease. The SEC’s Blackwell, Banks, and Tanaka climb into the ring. Les Miserables’s General DeBauchery, Al Cahall, and Nic Koteen throw themselves at the SEC. Walstreit starts to fade. Several other members of the Les Miserables hit the ring and attack Blackwell, Banks, and Tanaka.]

Johnny Suave: ALL HELL HAS BROKEN LOOSE! WE’VE GOT PEOPLE IN THE RING AND McAVAY IS HANGING ON FOR DEAR LIFE.

[Walstreit’s arm goes limp. McAvay breaks the hold…puts Walstreit’s head between his legs…and hits a sit-down powerbomb.]

Johnny Suave: McGILL BOMB!

[McAvay rolls him up. One…two…THREE!]

Johnny Suave: HE’S DONE IT!

*DING-DING-DING*

[Crowder can’t believe what’s just happened.]

Colleen Crowder: Son of a bitch.

Johnny Suave: WE HAVE A NEW UNIVERSAL PCW CHAMPION AND HIS NAME IS RAY McAVAY!

[With the Les Miserables celebrating in the ring, Kimber Marshall does the announcement from the floor.]

Kimber Marshall: YOUR WINNER AT FOURTEEN MINUTES AND FIFTY-NINE SECONDS…AND NEW UNIVERSAL PCW CHAMPION…’RED SOLO PLASTIC CUP’ RAY McAVAY!

[The referee hands the Universal title belt to McAvay- McAvay raises the belt in the air.]

Johnny Suave: I DON’T BELIEVE IT!

Colleen Crowder: I don’t believe it either.

Johnny Suave: TEN MONTHS AGO, RAY McAVAY UNDERWENT NECK SURGERY. TONIGHT, HE IS THE KING OF THE POLITICAL WRESTLING WORLD!

Colleen Crowder: God help us all.

Coming off neck surgery at the beginning of the year, McAvay was the surprise package entered into the three way dance for the Universal PCW Title at Extreme Election Night 2018. Nobody thought he’d walk away with the Universal Title.   But McAvay has always fed on being the underdog.

Ray McAvay’s PCW debut took place on PCW Extreme Political TV back on January 24th, 2011 against Brad Company. McAvay lost the match but he would lay the groundwork for what he would eventually become- a man of the people.   He would be a part of the PCW Tea Party movement in 2011-2012 and have some success in 2014.

REPLAY-6/30-2014 Extreme Political TV: Bird ‘The Mark’ Ridfych and ‘Tin Cup’ Ray McAvay w/his caddy Tromeo and Dr. Molly Greenwood vs. Tom Tebow- Tim Tebow’s Long Lost Black Sheep BrotherNo One Ever Knew Existed and ‘The Luchador With Insanely Poor Oral Hygiene’ Halitosis

[…Ridfych starts with a right hand.]

Crowd: BALL!

[And another.]

Crowd: BALL!

[And another.]

Crowd: BALL!

[Tebow whipped to the ropes.  Ridfych rears back…]

Crowd: BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA…

[…and nails him.]

Crowd: …BALL!

[Tebow eventually tags out and Halitosis comes in and starts flying.  He takes the fight to Ridfych and then tags Tebow back in.  Ridfych in trouble and desperately needs to tag out.  McAvay stands on the ring apron arguing back and forth with Dr. Greenberg about purging his inner demons and seizing his moment.  Finally, Dr. Greenberg hands McAvay a seven iron and orders him to confront his inner demons in the ring.  Ridfych hot tag to McAvay.  McAvay climbs into the ring with the seven iron while Tebow ‘Tebows.’]

*WHAP*

Suave: Oooh.  What a well struck shot.  Crisp.  McAvay is a good ball striker.

[And that takes care of Tebow.  Cover.  1…2…3.]

McAvay would then headline the PCW Reunion show in 2015 and then play a huge role in the Donald Trump-Hillary Clinton match at Extreme Election Night 2016 with his Les Miserables.

REPLAY: Extreme Election Night 2016

[Cut to Paul Ryan. He’s whistling while he ever so subtly tries to inch away from the ring, hoping that no one can see him subtly trying to inch away from the ring.   Mitch McConnell? He’s gone from ringside and nowhere to be found.]

[The rest of the establishment? Sitting in their seats reading the Wall Street Journal or on their phones making plans for their golf getaway.]

♫ Do you hear the people sing, singing a song of angry men…♫

[Quick cut to the Les Miserables section. What had been a full section of people is now half empty.]

Johnny Suave: WAIT A MINUTE!

[‘Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan, ‘Red Solo Plastic Cup’ Ray McAvay, and Charlie Blackwell stream to the ring followed by forty other people sitting in their section.]

Johnny Suave: It’s the LES MISERABLES!

Colleen Crowder: I’m confused Are they coming to help Clinton?

[Bryan hops up on the ring apron. He drapes Dana Milbank’s neck over the top rope and drops to the floor causing the Washington Post columnist to whiplash off the ropes and onto his back.]

Johnny Suave: BRYAN TOSSES MILBANK OUT!

[Bert the Janitor tosses McAvay a Big Bertha Driver.]

Johnny Suave: MCAVAY HAS THE BIG BERTHA!

*THWACK*

Johnny Suave: DOWN GOES CHUCK SCHUMER!

*THWACK^

Johnny Suave: DOWN GOES LINDSEY GRAHAM!

[Mitt Romney sees McAvay using the driver to pole axe his way through the crowd. He wisely uses discretion and decides to slip out of the ring.]

Johnny Suave: AND HERE COMES CHARLIE BLACKWELL!

[Blackwell jumps into the ring wielding a steel folding chair. and starts taking people out left and right.]

*CLANG*

Johnny Suave: BLACKWELL NAILS PAUL KRUGMAN WITH THE CHAIR!

[Blackwell turns and swings the chair again.]

*CLANG*

Johnny Suave: CNN’s DON LEMON GOES DOWN!

*CLANG*

Johnny Suave: HE GOT JEB BUSH TOO!

Colleen Crowder: WHAT ARE THEY DOING?

Johnny Suave: THEY’RE CLEANING HOUSE!

[The rest of the Les Miserables climb through the ropes and suddenly there’s a lot of people in close quarters.]

Colleen Crowder: DEPLORABLE!

[The American Patriots, Progressive Alliance, and media contingent still in the ring decide to hastily exit stage right leaving just Trump, Hillary, McAvay, Blackwell, Bryan, and the forty-odd Les Miserables inside.]

Colleen Crowder: THESE PEOPLE ARE DEPLORABLE! WHAT ARE ALL THESE DEPLORABLE PEOPLE DOING IN THE RING?

Johnny Suave: Actually, they’re Les Miserables.

THE ESTABLISHMENT AREN’T HAPPY WITH NEW CHAMPION

Suffice to say, the Establishment’s reaction to McAvay winning the title could be termed as ‘cool’ at best. The Coke Brothers (who is secretly funding the Red Brand shows) and George Moros (who is secretly funding the Blue Brand shows)…

…oh? Did we just spill the beans? Whoops.

The Coke Brothers and Moros have come out and complained about the fact that McAvay got a ‘free ride’ into the match by his ex-wife Dawn McGill.

Moros bragged that they ‘got rid’ of William Daniels Bryan because he wouldn’t play ball with the Establishment. He warned the new champion that he’d better defend his title at Red Brand and Blue Brand shows or else McAvay would suffer the same fate.

SEC AND CSPN AREN’T HAPPY WITH NEW CHAMPION EITHER SEC Mouthpiece Phil Finebaum complained that McAvay shouldn’t have been in the match in the first place. “He doesn’t wrestle for a power faction.   McAvay being in that match is the same as NCAA College Football allowing UCF to be in the Final Four. It shouldn’t have happened. And now we’re stuck with a substandard champion.”

CSPN CEO Mark Splitter concurred. “I’ve defended the exclusion of wrestlers of ‘lesser factions’ from title matches because they ‘probably don’t deserve to have the opportunity to wrestle for titles.  Because the competition as Phil Finebaum has pointed out is substandard. Now we have a wrestler from a non-power three faction who supposed to be the champion…the best of the best when in actuality he’s nothing more than the best of the mediocre.”

And in other news, Finebaum still hates Jim Harbaugh and Urban Meyer.

PROGRESSIVE ALLIANCE REALLY AREN’T HAPPY WITH NEW CHAMPION The Progressive Alliance have registered a complaint with the PCW Competition Committee alleging that they did not have a wrestler in the title match at Extreme Election Night 2018 because ‘The One Man Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism fraudulently presented himself a member of the faction. They want do-over.

As the Blue Brand Champion, Chism was the ‘Progressive Alliance’ representative to the match. But Chism allowed himself to be counted out of the match sparking a fracas at ringside with the Hollywood left until Conservative actor James Wood came to his rescue.

The PCW Competition Committee turned down the Progressive Alliance’s complaint.

The Progressive Alliance did strip Chism of the Blue Brand Title and will crown a new champion once the Blue Brand shows start up again.

CURRENT CHAMPIONS: Universal PCW Champion: ‘Red Solo Plastic Cup’ Ray McAvay (Independent/Les Miserables) Universal PCW Tag Team Champions: Sports Entertainment Corporation: P.M.C. Banks and Charlie Blackwell Universal PCW Women’s Champion: ‘Extreme Pizza Delivery Girl’ Tessa Martin (SEC) PCW Red Brand Champion: Kirk Walstreit- the Wall Street Market Analyst with the Man Crush on ESPN’s Kirk Herbstreit PCW Blue Brand Champion: Vacant PCW Heartland Champion: Vacant PCW Red Brand Tag Team Champions: Banks and Blackwell PCW Blue Brand Tag Team Champions: Union Jack Taylor and the Ultimate Social Justice Warrior PCW Heartland Tag Team Champions: Weapons of Mass Destruction: A. Tom Bomb and Hy Drogen Bomb

#politics #political #political satire #political wrestling #political nation #POTUS #populist #populism #potus45 #republican #republicans #democrats #democracy #democrat #Donald Trump #president trump #2018 election #election 2018 #Election 2016 #conservative #liberal #libertarian #Libertarian Party #independent #independents #heartland #Average Joe

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The Improbable Rise of Saquon Barkley

During Penn State’s bye week in mid-October, the team’s star running back, Saquon Barkley, returned to his hometown of Coplay, Pa. It was a good chance for Barkley to relax, unwind, catch up with family members and friends, and visit some familiar places. He soon realized how the perception of him had changed.

He was no longer just the quiet kid who everyone called “Say-Say” growing up. Now he was a bonafide celebrity, a Penn State legend and future NFL first round draft pick who couldn’t go anywhere without being inundated with stares, requests, and admiration.

That was evident on Friday, Oct. 13, when he went to Whitehall High School, his alma mater, around 65 miles north of Philadelphia and 165 miles east of Penn State’s campus in State College, Pa.

After reuniting with Justin Kondikoff, his former environmental sciences teacher and assistant football coach, he walked down the hall to the guidance counselor’s office. When Barkeley was a student at Whitehall, the stroll took three minutes. This time, it took around a half hour, as dozens of people came up to Barkley to chat and take photos with him.

“There were teachers coming out of classrooms,” Kondikoff said. “There were students coming out of classrooms.”

Each of them were in awe of Barkley and had been following his sensational junior season, in which he dazzled fans, opponents, and NFL scouts with a mixture of highlight moves that displayed his physical nature and blinding speed. A Sports Illustrated article in the summer noted that Barkley ran the 40-yard dash in 4.33 seconds, broke a Penn State-record with 405 pounds in the power clean lift, and squatted 525 pounds five times. He has proven he’s more than just a marvel in the weight room. He isn’t afraid of contact and can run through would-be tacklers. He also can run to the outside, catch passes in the open field, and sprint around and past slower defenders.

Entering Saturday’s Fiesta Bowl against Washington, Barkley needs 227 yards to surpass Evan Royster’s school-record in career rushing yards. Barkley was considered a Heisman Trophy frontrunner early this season before tailing off a bit as defenses designed schemes to stop him. Still, he finished fourth in the Heisman voting after scoring 22 touchdowns and gaining 2,154 all-purpose yards, the nation’s second-highest total.

People in Coplay and the surrounding Lehigh Valley are intimately familiar with Barkley’s exploits. At Whitehall’s football game in nearby Bethlehem, Pa., the scene was even more surreal than it was when Barkley returned to his former high school earlier in the day. Barkley wanted to watch his brother, Ali, a sophomore at Whitehall. Instead, he spent most of the time signing autographs, taking selfies and getting chatted up by strangers.

“It's hard when he’s home now because everybody is awestruck and starstruck by his notoriety,” Whitehall athletics director Bob Hartman said. “It stinks that he’s in that situation of not being able to enjoy things in his hometown, but he’s earned all those awesome things that come with (fame).”

Barkley, who has one year of college eligibility remaining, hasn’t announced whether he will return to Penn State for next season. But it would be shocking if he didn’t declare for the 2018 NFL draft by the Jan. 15 deadline.

Barkley is ranked first on ESPN draft guru Mel Kiper Jr.’s “Big Board” of top players for the 2018 draft. ESPN’s Todd McShay considers Barkley the best running back prospect since Adrian Peterson entered the NFL in 2007. And he has a chance to become the first running back selected with the first overall pick since the Cincinnati Bengals chose former Penn State star Ki-Jana Carter in 1995.

All of those accolades and projections are still hard to fathom to people in his hometown who have known him since grade school. But back then, Barkley was already impressing people with his athleticism. Near the end of third grade, while participating in a competition among peers, he caught the eye of Tammi Cunningham, whose husband, Tim, was the high school wrestling coach.

“She said, ‘Hey, Tim, you need to see this kid. He looks like he would be a good wrestler,’” Cunningham said.

She turned out to be right. When Barkley joined the Little Zephyrs, the town’s youth wrestling program, he became one of the region’s best in the 95 to 105 pound weight category. Cunningham remembers him beating a few kids who became Division I college wrestlers.

By the time high school came around, though, Barkley was focused on football. Initially, he had some trouble adjusting to the freshman team’s zone-read offense. As the running back in that complicated scheme, Barkley was instructed to hesitate for a split second when given the ball, watch the linemen block certain areas and then run fast through any openings.

“You could see he was thinking too much,” Whitehall freshman coach Doug Bonshak said. “I could tell he was frustrated because he wanted to make something happen. Sometimes he would dance around too much and the hole would close up quickly.”

Joe Maiorana-USA TODAY Sports

Back then, it was pretty much unfathomable that Barkley would end up at Penn State. For the most part, even the most talented Whitehall players usually ended up at small local colleges like nearby Kutztown University, a Division II program.

“That was all we really knew,” said Conor Sullivan, Barkley’s high school teammate who now plays wide receiver at Kutztown.

As a sophomore, Barkley improved and started at outside linebacker, but he was a backup on offense to senior running back James Wah, Jr., who went to Kutztown. The summer before his junior year, Barkley finally caught college coaches’ attention during 7-on-7 camps. Rutgers offered him his first Division I offer, so he quickly committed to the Scarlet Knights.

When Barkley got off to an impressive start to his junior season, more colleges began calling and showing up at his games. Dave Steckel, a Whitehall alum who was Missouri's defensive coordinator, remembers watching Barkley play that fall. Steckel thought Barkley could become a major contributor at Missouri. But a top NFL prospect?

“The truth is, no one can see that,” said Steckel, who is now the head coach at Missouri State. “If they say they can, that’s a bunch of malarkey. What I did see, though, was a phenomenal, explosive talent. If he came in and worked and put in a lot of hard work and focus into what he was doing, you could tell he could be pretty damn good.”

Around the same time, Penn State started inquiring about Barkley. During a visit with other recruits in October 2013, Barkley saw the Nittany Lions defeat previously unbeaten Michigan 43-40 in four overtimes in a thrilling night game that left a lasting impact.

At the time, Penn State was still reeling from the child sexual abuse scandal involving former defensive coordinator Jerry Sandusky. Still, Barkley was intrigued enough with the school that he visited again in February 2014, about a month after Penn State hired James Franklin as coach. That weekend, Barkley took along Kondikoff and two other Whitehall assistants. Everyone came away with a positive impression of Franklin, the program, and the campus.

“We thought, ‘Wow, this is the place for you,’” Kondikoff said. “It just fit well, just seemed right.”

Within a week, Barkley de-committed from Rutgers and told Penn State’s coaches he would play for the Nittany Lions. Other colleges such as Ohio State and Notre Dame pursued Barkley as he continued to improve and finished his Whitehall career with school records in rushing yards (3,642) and touchdowns (61). This time, he couldn’t be swayed.

When Barkley arrived at Penn State in 2015, he was considered one of its top recruits, although the Nittany Lions had another running back from Pennsylvania, Andre Robinson, in the same class with similarly impressive credentials. Few Penn State freshmen have major roles. Barkley was the rare exception. Despite missing two games with injuries, he finished with 1,076 yards rushing and seven touchdowns.

The past two seasons, Barkley has been even better, winning back-to-back Big Ten offensive player of the year awards. Even ahead of Saturday’s Fiesta Bowl, Barkley is already Penn State’s all-time leader with 5,279 all-purpose yards, 41 rushing touchdowns, and 51 total touchdowns. He is also second with 3,706 career rushing yards.

For all of Barkley’s on-field exploits, his former high school mentors are just as impressed that he’s remained the same caring kid as they remember. Kondikoff often checks in with Barkley via text messages.

“He always responds with, ‘How are your kids doing?,” Kondikoff said. “Not many people ask how your kids are doing. That just shows his maturity.”

When Barkley returns home, he typically visits with Cunningham, his ex-wrestling coach. He’s close with the family and is friends with Cunningham’s daughters.

“He didn’t let this success get to his head, not at all,” Cunningham said. “When I talk to him, I would never even know he’s this star running back at Penn State. I’m amazed. He doesn’t bring up all his accolades. It’s like he’s an everyday person.”

If it were up to Barkley, he would be an everyday person who’s able to blend into the background. But that’s not the case anymore. Earlier this year, when Barkley attended a Whitehall basketball game, school officials asked if they could introduce him during a break.

“He’s so shy—it’s unbelievable,�� Whitehall basketball coach Jeff Jones said. “He was embarrassed. He said to my wife, ‘Do I need to say anything?’ She’s like, ‘No, just go out and put your hand up and wave to everybody.’”

These next few months before the NFL draft, the spotlight will shine even brighter on Barkley. He will be working out for teams, answering questions from executives and coaches, and making sure he’s impressing a group of people who will determine his professional future. Regardless of where he’s selected or how he performs in the NFL, he’s already had an impact in his hometown and high school.

“Nowadays you see everyone say, ‘Look at me. Look at me,’” Bonshak said. “That’s not him at all.”

The Improbable Rise of Saquon Barkley published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

The Improbable Rise of Saquon Barkley

During Penn State’s bye week in mid-October, the team’s star running back, Saquon Barkley, returned to his hometown of Coplay, Pa. It was a good chance for Barkley to relax, unwind, catch up with family members and friends, and visit some familiar places. He soon realized how the perception of him had changed.

He was no longer just the quiet kid who everyone called “Say-Say” growing up. Now he was a bonafide celebrity, a Penn State legend and future NFL first round draft pick who couldn’t go anywhere without being inundated with stares, requests, and admiration.

That was evident on Friday, Oct. 13, when he went to Whitehall High School, his alma mater, around 65 miles north of Philadelphia and 165 miles east of Penn State’s campus in State College, Pa.

After reuniting with Justin Kondikoff, his former environmental sciences teacher and assistant football coach, he walked down the hall to the guidance counselor’s office. When Barkeley was a student at Whitehall, the stroll took three minutes. This time, it took around a half hour, as dozens of people came up to Barkley to chat and take photos with him.

“There were teachers coming out of classrooms,” Kondikoff said. “There were students coming out of classrooms.”

Each of them were in awe of Barkley and had been following his sensational junior season, in which he dazzled fans, opponents, and NFL scouts with a mixture of highlight moves that displayed his physical nature and blinding speed. A Sports Illustrated article in the summer noted that Barkley ran the 40-yard dash in 4.33 seconds, broke a Penn State-record with 405 pounds in the power clean lift, and squatted 525 pounds five times. He has proven he’s more than just a marvel in the weight room. He isn’t afraid of contact and can run through would-be tacklers. He also can run to the outside, catch passes in the open field, and sprint around and past slower defenders.

Entering Saturday’s Fiesta Bowl against Washington, Barkley needs 227 yards to surpass Evan Royster’s school-record in career rushing yards. Barkley was considered a Heisman Trophy frontrunner early this season before tailing off a bit as defenses designed schemes to stop him. Still, he finished fourth in the Heisman voting after scoring 22 touchdowns and gaining 2,154 all-purpose yards, the nation’s second-highest total.

People in Coplay and the surrounding Lehigh Valley are intimately familiar with Barkley’s exploits. At Whitehall’s football game in nearby Bethlehem, Pa., the scene was even more surreal than it was when Barkley returned to his former high school earlier in the day. Barkley wanted to watch his brother, Ali, a sophomore at Whitehall. Instead, he spent most of the time signing autographs, taking selfies and getting chatted up by strangers.

“It’s hard when he’s home now because everybody is awestruck and starstruck by his notoriety,” Whitehall athletics director Bob Hartman said. “It stinks that he’s in that situation of not being able to enjoy things in his hometown, but he’s earned all those awesome things that come with (fame).”

Barkley, who has one year of college eligibility remaining, hasn’t announced whether he will return to Penn State for next season. But it would be shocking if he didn’t declare for the 2018 NFL draft by the Jan. 15 deadline.

Barkley is ranked first on ESPN draft guru Mel Kiper Jr.’s “Big Board” of top players for the 2018 draft. ESPN’s Todd McShay considers Barkley the best running back prospect since Adrian Peterson entered the NFL in 2007. And he has a chance to become the first running back selected with the first overall pick since the Cincinnati Bengals chose former Penn State star Ki-Jana Carter in 1995.

All of those accolades and projections are still hard to fathom to people in his hometown who have known him since grade school. But back then, Barkley was already impressing people with his athleticism. Near the end of third grade, while participating in a competition among peers, he caught the eye of Tammi Cunningham, whose husband, Tim, was the high school wrestling coach.

“She said, ‘Hey, Tim, you need to see this kid. He looks like he would be a good wrestler,’” Cunningham said.

She turned out to be right. When Barkley joined the Little Zephyrs, the town’s youth wrestling program, he became one of the region’s best in the 95 to 105 pound weight category. Cunningham remembers him beating a few kids who became Division I college wrestlers.

By the time high school came around, though, Barkley was focused on football. Initially, he had some trouble adjusting to the freshman team’s zone-read offense. As the running back in that complicated scheme, Barkley was instructed to hesitate for a split second when given the ball, watch the linemen block certain areas and then run fast through any openings.

“You could see he was thinking too much,” Whitehall freshman coach Doug Bonshak said. “I could tell he was frustrated because he wanted to make something happen. Sometimes he would dance around too much and the hole would close up quickly.”

Joe Maiorana-USA TODAY Sports

Back then, it was pretty much unfathomable that Barkley would end up at Penn State. For the most part, even the most talented Whitehall players usually ended up at small local colleges like nearby Kutztown University, a Division II program.

“That was all we really knew,” said Conor Sullivan, Barkley’s high school teammate who now plays wide receiver at Kutztown.

As a sophomore, Barkley improved and started at outside linebacker, but he was a backup on offense to senior running back James Wah, Jr., who went to Kutztown. The summer before his junior year, Barkley finally caught college coaches’ attention during 7-on-7 camps. Rutgers offered him his first Division I offer, so he quickly committed to the Scarlet Knights.

When Barkley got off to an impressive start to his junior season, more colleges began calling and showing up at his games. Dave Steckel, a Whitehall alum who was Missouri’s defensive coordinator, remembers watching Barkley play that fall. Steckel thought Barkley could become a major contributor at Missouri. But a top NFL prospect?

“The truth is, no one can see that,” said Steckel, who is now the head coach at Missouri State. “If they say they can, that’s a bunch of malarkey. What I did see, though, was a phenomenal, explosive talent. If he came in and worked and put in a lot of hard work and focus into what he was doing, you could tell he could be pretty damn good.”

Around the same time, Penn State started inquiring about Barkley. During a visit with other recruits in October 2013, Barkley saw the Nittany Lions defeat previously unbeaten Michigan 43-40 in four overtimes in a thrilling night game that left a lasting impact.

At the time, Penn State was still reeling from the child sexual abuse scandal involving former defensive coordinator Jerry Sandusky. Still, Barkley was intrigued enough with the school that he visited again in February 2014, about a month after Penn State hired James Franklin as coach. That weekend, Barkley took along Kondikoff and two other Whitehall assistants. Everyone came away with a positive impression of Franklin, the program, and the campus.

“We thought, ‘Wow, this is the place for you,’” Kondikoff said. “It just fit well, just seemed right.”

Within a week, Barkley de-committed from Rutgers and told Penn State’s coaches he would play for the Nittany Lions. Other colleges such as Ohio State and Notre Dame pursued Barkley as he continued to improve and finished his Whitehall career with school records in rushing yards (3,642) and touchdowns (61). This time, he couldn’t be swayed.

When Barkley arrived at Penn State in 2015, he was considered one of its top recruits, although the Nittany Lions had another running back from Pennsylvania, Andre Robinson, in the same class with similarly impressive credentials. Few Penn State freshmen have major roles. Barkley was the rare exception. Despite missing two games with injuries, he finished with 1,076 yards rushing and seven touchdowns.

The past two seasons, Barkley has been even better, winning back-to-back Big Ten offensive player of the year awards. Even ahead of Saturday’s Fiesta Bowl, Barkley is already Penn State’s all-time leader with 5,279 all-purpose yards, 41 rushing touchdowns, and 51 total touchdowns. He is also second with 3,706 career rushing yards.

For all of Barkley’s on-field exploits, his former high school mentors are just as impressed that he’s remained the same caring kid as they remember. Kondikoff often checks in with Barkley via text messages.

“He always responds with, ‘How are your kids doing?,” Kondikoff said. “Not many people ask how your kids are doing. That just shows his maturity.”

When Barkley returns home, he typically visits with Cunningham, his ex-wrestling coach. He’s close with the family and is friends with Cunningham’s daughters.

“He didn’t let this success get to his head, not at all,” Cunningham said. “When I talk to him, I would never even know he’s this star running back at Penn State. I’m amazed. He doesn’t bring up all his accolades. It’s like he’s an everyday person.”

If it were up to Barkley, he would be an everyday person who’s able to blend into the background. But that’s not the case anymore. Earlier this year, when Barkley attended a Whitehall basketball game, school officials asked if they could introduce him during a break.

“He’s so shy—it’s unbelievable,” Whitehall basketball coach Jeff Jones said. “He was embarrassed. He said to my wife, ‘Do I need to say anything?’ She’s like, ‘No, just go out and put your hand up and wave to everybody.’”

These next few months before the NFL draft, the spotlight will shine even brighter on Barkley. He will be working out for teams, answering questions from executives and coaches, and making sure he’s impressing a group of people who will determine his professional future. Regardless of where he’s selected or how he performs in the NFL, he’s already had an impact in his hometown and high school.

“Nowadays you see everyone say, ‘Look at me. Look at me,’” Bonshak said. “That’s not him at all.”

The Improbable Rise of Saquon Barkley syndicated from http://ift.tt/2ug2Ns6