#robbery in progress

[luke6verse44]

strongarming my mind back today

[mariocki]

Il cittadino si ribella (Street Law, 1974)

"If citizens start taking the law into their own hands, who will distinguish honest people from dishonest ones?"

[fishschtick]

i WANT to draw her SO BADLY but i'm too lazy to draw, here's a wip i guess??

[shmowder]

idk what the construction workers outside my window are doing but it definitely sounds like the opposite of construction

[vinylspinning]

Ainigma: Diluvium (1973)

Taking their name from the Greek word for "enigma," Ainigma was a German three-piece from the small Bavarian town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, whose "career" ranged from 1971-'74, and produced this sole long-player from half-a-century ago.

Its musicians were seventeen-year-old Willy Klüter (vocals, organ), his fifteen-year-old brother Michael (drums), plus Wolfgang Netzer (guitar, bass, also fifteen), and their inexperience is obvious on 1973's Diluvium (Latin for "deluge").

The album consists, by and large, of neoclassical heavy prog that appears to have been recorded in a cluttered garage -- and that's close enough to the truth, as it was captured at the Garmisch parish hall, instead.

Still, this was better that than the boys' regular rehearsal site in the Klüter family basement, which happened to be located underneath their dentist father's home practice, and must have therefore subjected his patients to a racket fit to rattle their fillings!

Like, literally!

Luckily, Ainigma did benefit from adult supervision during the album's recording, as they convinced the affluent Dr. Klüter to hire one Franz Forth -- a Munich-based engineering intern with the Bavarian Broadcasting System -- and a pair of two-track Revox machines.

With all this in mind, one can't help but admire the trio's precocious, if unrefined talents, as it explodes with boundless enthusiasm via domineering Hammond organ (*), surprisingly distorted fuzz guitars, muscular drums ... and pretty terrible lyrics.

And yet, all three cuts found on side one -- "Prejudice," "You Must Run," and "All Things are Fading" -- feature their fair share of memorable moments, even if these were clearly inspired by the likes of Uriah Heep, Stray, and especially Atomic Rooster.

Side two houses the 18-minute-long trip of a title track, complete with a clumsily punched-in drum solo and other technical issues relating to the bass, lead and background vocal overdubs, which don't always mesh with the backing tracks for lack of an equalizer and other common tools available in most professional studios ... but not the parish hall.

Evidently, Dr. Klüter's generosity had its limits, and the members of Ainigma were so dissatisfied with the sessions' end results that they only pressed about 500 copies of Diluvium (**) and then sold them at a discount on account of its shitty sound.

Mama Klüter, likewise, eventually grew tired of driving the teenagers to local gigs, so the band's prospects and resolve gradually dwindled and, after briefly hiring a bassist to flesh out their live shows, Ainigma called it a day sometime in '74.

So, what's the final verdict?

Well, I've heard much better examples of under-funded, under-rehearsed German heavy prog, but I've also heard a lot worse, so give Ainigma and Diluvium a half-dozen virtual "spins" and you too might be tempted to invest in a physical format.

* Although Willy's liner notes amazingly suggest he only secured his first Hammond a few years later and got by here with a Farsifa on these recordings!

** In case you're wondering, the rear sleeve's cryptic acronyms, ARC ALP, stands for "Ainigma Record Company, Ainigma LP Stereo, and its product number of 151715 reflected the boys' ages at the time of recording.

More Early ‘70s Heavy Rock & Prog: Atomic Rooster’s Death Walks Behind You, Birth Control’s Operation, Bodkin's Bodkin, Budgie’s Squawk, Clear Blue Sky’s Clear Blue Sky, Deep Purple’s Fireball, Eloy’s Eloy, Los Dug Dug’s Smog, Estus' Estus, Focus’ Moving Waves, Frumpy���s Frumpy 2, Hammer's Hammer, Hard Meat’s Hard Meat, Head Machine’s Orgasm, Highway Robbery’s For Love or Money, Jethro Tull’s Aqualung, Jerusalem’s Jerusalem, Jody Grind’s Far Canal, Kahvas Jute’s Wide Open, Leaf Hound’s Growers of Mushroom, Murphy Blend’s First Loss, Scorpions’ Lonesome Crow, Stray’s Stray, Stray Dog’s Stray Dog, Tapiman’s Tapiman, Tempest’s Tempest, Thundermug’s Thundermug Strikes, Tiger B. Smith’s Tiger Rock, Toad’sToad, Toe Fat’s Two, Trapeze’s Medusa Uriah Heep’s The Magician’s Birthday, Warhorse’s Warhorse, Wild Turkey’s Battle Hymn, Wishbone Ash’s Argus, Zarathustra’s Zarathustra.

[your-funky-human-companion]

imagine a world where you could pop off your body parts and pop other's back on

personally, i think my family would have a ball freezer

[spilladabalia]

Cos - Populi

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [3]

during one of the final psych evals at Arkham right before he gets to be released, the whole thing wrapped up so tidy, just a little relapse which involved a robbery. Getting sent back to Arkham, but he got to stay at the asylum so long that he no longer has to serve a prison sentence, score!

But during that eval his overseeing psychiatrist recommended him to have a change of scenery, some fresh non polluted air.

Riddler was rather convinced the guy was making this recommendation to everyone in Arkham in their own weird way to convince them to just leave Gotham and become someone else's problem. should he notify Batman about it somehow? nah, it’ll be more interesting to see how this is gonna turn out in the long run.

But can he leave the state? Can he even leave the city? he never really bothered to look into it, at least not legally, up until now if he felt he needed to leave for one of his plans he just did it.

Turns out he can, it’s a whole hassle and a half though, first a judge and then a probation officer and he’s pretty sure both were like “what the hell is this psychiatrist guy thinking!?” but at the same time, shrink probably knows what he’s doing (WRONG) so he’s allowed to go visit out of state family or whatever.

he had to wear this nice ankle monitor though, Wayne Enterprises™ tech, not overly bulky but still very present. real fancy, and a fun extra challenge heh.

now as for a good reason to leave New Jersey he’s going to need distant relatives, and he finds some, great grandpa walker also has a son, who had a son who had a daughter Madeline, who married some guy Jack Fenton, and she lives somewhere out in the boonies Illinois. great he’ll visit her.

far enough away in all sense of the word that there is no way she knows anything about him. it would be best to call her first though, be polite about it.

“hello, you have reached Fenton works, this is Maddie speaking” 

“Riddle me this-” ah whoops, habit, oh whatever, “we don’t share parents, but certainly a part of your life, from laughter to strife. Who am I?”

there is a pause …  he’s going to be a bit disappointed if she hangs up if he’s honest.

“cousins~” comes the cheery reply.

“correct! the name is Edward Nygma, we are distantly related you and I and well-”

“oh you simply must come visit!” 

well this was rather easy, perhaps a little too easy, but she lives in the midwest so maybe just going with whatever some guy says over the phone is normal there? stranger danger not really a thing in a small town where everyone knows everyone?

things start to make a little more sense once he gets there and he’s starting to think some things might run in the family. like a preference for the colour green and weird hyperfixations and genius bordering on insanity. Though that remains to be seen, Jack does not seem like a very bright light after his very enthusiastic welcome.

their kids however are observant and sharp. young Jasmine is wasting no time trying to psychoanalyze him. and the boy, Danny, he had not really meant to and he swears he’s sticking with calling the kid Danny so he wouldn’t seem overly familiar, but he might have called him little bird a couple times now.

but that’s all whatever, he’s playing nice here. and he doesn’t even have to worry about his eccentricities tripping him up because this place is insane.

There actually is a local teen vigilante active but he seems about as loved as he’s disliked. and the ghost boy’s enemies are basically all his own kind, which another crazy thing to now know about. ghost. they are real actually, how is Gotham not completely overrun? and how do they even work? and where do they keep coming from?

Edward might be getting a little sidetracked here. He had fully intended to sneakily get his next big game plan underway all the way out here, ankle monitor be damned. but he hasn’t made any progress at all.

Instead he’s been listening to Madeline and Jack to maybe figure out what the deal is with these ectoplasmic entities, he has to know, at this point he might go crazier if he doesn’t. 

He’s making Jasmine promise him not to get her doctorate in Gotham, he’s going back and forth with space riddles with Danny.

so yeah the whole thing kinda just became a vacation, maybe the psychiatrist had the right idea after all? hmm nah, probably not. but this is fun. He’s thinking about recommending this place to some of the others.

It's different enough to get the vacation feel, but enough crazy shit happens to make it all feel like home.

it is not until Maddie wants to talk with him about potentially switching the position of godfather of Danny to him rather than some weird rich friend of theirs that Edward realizes he might have lost the plot somewhere

Apparently the little bird basically begged them with a powerpoint presentation on how he likes Edward so much more than that Vladimir guy. 

And honestly, the fellow sounds like a Dracula Lutho so even if it’s kinda sad Edward can understand why he’d be considered a better option. Even if the guy has more money and a huge company that makes him said money. And it’s not like the Fentons know about his Riddler activities.

Thinking it over, Edward does think that Danny would like Gotham and Wayne has that space program thing right? The kid is definitely smart enough for that (Nygma certified), and yeah Edward does quite like their space themed back and forth. So, fuck it, why not, what is the worst that could happen?

He doubts Maddie and Jack are gonna kick it any time soon anyway out here in the boonies, it’s just a title thing, a stamp of approval or something.

he should have known he was going to eat those words later… he had this whole beautifully elaborate trap set up for the whole Batclan, and he was just getting to the good part when his phone went off.

Had to put the whole thing on pause cause that particular contact wasn’t gonna get ignored. He did promise to be available.

If the whole thing he had planned now went tits up he could at the very least laugh later at the reactions of the bats as he told them to “hold up one second, I have to take this.” while they were all in various perilous positions. 

Sadly he did have to go, he had a very distressed godson to pick up.

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 24

One night while in patrol.

Barbara (over the coms): Nightwing, Spoiler, I need you two to head to Gotham City Bank, there's a robbery in progress.

Dick and Steph: On it!

Barbara: Batman, Red Hood, and Phamtom, I need you in the harbor, the Penguin is sneaking in some kind of nuclear material.

Bruce: Can you see what kind?

Barbara: Working on it.

Bruce: Got it, on my way.

Jason: On it!

Danny: See you guys there!

Barnard: Red Robin, Robin, I need you two at Gotham Museum, Condiment King just broke in.

Damian: Got it!

Tim: Got it- wait, Barnard!?

Barbara (holding back laughter): Red Robin! How many times do I have to say this? Code names!

Tim (confused): I'm sorry what's happening?

Barnard: Well I've seen how hard you and your family always work, as well as Superboy and his family, so I decided I also wanted to help. I asked Superboy and he recommend I ask Oracle if she needed an extra set of hands.

Barbara: Which I gladly accepted, all of you are a lot to deal with.

Barnard: Batman approved, so now I'm in the clocktower with Oracle.

Tim (happy): Really? You did all that for me? You and Superboy are always looking out for me.

Barnard: Of course, we do anything for you, and by the way my code name is The Prophet.

Tim: Welcome to the team, Prophet.

Barnard: Thank you Red Robin.

Damian: This is cute and all, but I still need you at the museum Red Robin.

Tim: On my way!

(Master Post)

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Princess Worth Saving

Part 4 of Bradford's Princess

Pairing: Tim Bradford x younger(24-26y/o)!fem!reader

Summary: Tim misses a call from you in your time of need, and after he saves you, he promises never to leave his princess alone again.

Warnings: angst, robbery, r is held at gunpoint, comfort and fluff, domestically dominant Tim, softie!Tim

Word Count: 4.1k+ words

A/N: Thank you yet again to @nevereclipse for sharing this idea and letting me have so much fun with it. You're a genius and I hope you like this!

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

Tim pushes your front door open, stepping inside with a large gift box in his arms.

“Hi,” you greet, tipping your head to the side. “Do you need help with that?”

“I got it,” he assures you, kicking the door closed. “You look beautiful.”

You roll your eyes even as you smile. As usual, you stand on the couch cushion and wait for Tim to set the box down and approach you. His hands are warm and steady on your hips as you lean forward to hug him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he says while he pulls you over the back of the couch and into his arms.

“For what?”

You loop your arms around his shoulders, leaning your head against his shoulder as you breathe in his cologne.

“I know I said I would go shopping with you tomorrow, but Lopez and Harper caught a case and need all the help they can get,” he explains, rubbing his hand along your back as he circles the couch and sits. “I offered to work with them.”

“That’s fine, Tim,” you say against his neck. You interrupt yourself to plant a kiss below his ear, then pull back to look at him. “It’s your job. I get it.”

“It shouldn’t come between us.”

“It’s not.” You chuckle at the disappointed look on his face, bringing your hands forward to squish his cheeks until he grunts. “It’s a day of shopping, not our wedding. I’ll be fine.”

“Take my credit card,” he offers, dragging his hands along your waist. “Get whatever you want.”

You lean forward, brush your lips against Tim’s, then remind him, “I already have what I want.”

The mall is just opening as you arrive. The stores are turning on their different music, overlapping in the main walkways as gated doors are opened and lights buzz above you. You’d been looking forward to walking through the stores with your hand in Tim’s, getting his feedback about what you wanted to buy, and enjoying the day with him. You didn’t want him to see how disappointed you were, so you maintained a brave face last night and distracted yourself by kissing him. Now, you try to distract yourself from how empty your hand feels and how strange it seems to not have Tim stationed at your side as a guardian, a lover, and a friend.

Your favorite store is your first stop, and you have a short list saved to your phone of everything you want to look at, try on, and buy. Tim usually looks over your shoulder when you scroll through Pinterest or online sales, pointing out what would look good on you or be a good addition to your home, until he distracts himself by playing with your hair or kissing you until you set your phone aside.

After greeting the college-aged girl working behind the counter, you walk to the back of the store and begin looking through hangers and at displays, practically hearing Tim’s voice in your head as you consider what you like.

Lucy tips her chin up when Tim returns from Angela’s desk. They’ve been looking through witness statements and evidence photos in hopes of finding something they can use to identify the robbery and homicide suspect. He’s robbed several stores in a few short weeks, and during the last theft, he shot and killed an innocent bystander. With the full attention of the LAPD, they suspect he’ll either lay low or keep progressing in violence.

“Is that you?” Lucy inquires.

“What?” Tim sighs as he returns to his previous seat.

“That smell. What is it… rose?”

“Oh. It’s some elixir or something,” Tim murmurs, pushing a case file into his designated ‘unhelpful’ pile.

Lucy smiles, leaning over her keyboard. “Did you buy it for a special someone?”

“She does have her own money and free will, you know,” Tim deadpans. “I don’t just buy her things, contrary to station belief.”

“No, you also get all soft and gooey inside when we bring her up. I can see that you want to smile.”

“What I want is to get back to work so I can go home on time. I was supposed to have today off, Chen.”

“Ah, that’s why you’re grumpy. You’re here with me instead of your pretty princess.”

“Are you done?”

Lucy’s smile droops as she admits, “Yeah, I’m done.”

Less than a minute later, she looks away from an evidence log to inquire, “Why do you smell like her elixir or something?”

“Chen,” Tim warns.

She raises her hands and returns to work, assuming she knows why the scent of your skincare lingers on Tim. If he were slightly less grumpy, she’d ask him how long he’s been assisting you in getting ready.

“Does he always target places that have more than one store?” Tim asks. “Malls, strip malls, outlets?”

“Yes!” Nyla calls from her desk.

“Interesting,” he murmurs, turning to his computer to load a map of Los Angeles.

“Ooh, that color would look so good on you,” you tell a woman staring longingly at a sundress.

“You really think so?” she inquires softly.

“Absolutely! It compliments your hair and skin, and I think your eyes would pop against it.”

“It’s a little… bolder than what I usually wear,” she admits.

You run your fingers along the dress, nodding appreciatively at how it feels. “Try it on. Never too late to wear something new.”

She steps forward and finds her size, smiling at you as she asks a nearby employee to unlock the fitting room. You continue browsing, looking for a sweater Tim sent you a screenshot of last week.

“Are you searching for something specific?” the employee whose nametag says Jenna inquires kindly.

You unlock your phone and find the image as you answer, “This sweater. I saw it online, but I wanted to check in store before I ordered it.”

“Oh, yes,” she murmurs, looking over her shoulder. “I think we moved them to one of the racks over by the register. Let me check for you.”

“Thank you so much,” you call after her, glancing toward the fitting room.

The woman you spoke to before steps out, smiling with the dress draped over her arm.

“And?” you ask.

“I love it,” she admits. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Everyone deserves to wear what they love and feel beautiful.”

She thanks you again before approaching the checkout area, and you text Tim to let him know you’re thinking of him. He had a little longer before work this morning than he does most days, so you enjoyed the extra time together. You sat on the bathroom counter as he did your skincare, and you’ve already decided to surprise him with a homemade dinner tonight, making the most of what was supposed to be an entire day together.

“I found them!” Jenna calls, stepping back into your eyeline. “We have more colors here than that online listing, too.”

“Perfect,” you reply, following her through the store as the mall gets busier.

“Are you sure that’s the same guy?” Lucy asks, leaning closer to the monitor.

“We might be able to answer that if we could see him,” Nyla points out.

Lucy pulls back with a mumbled apology, allowing the others to see what they suspect could be security footage from the first robbery. The jewelry store on the other side of the mall captured nearly a minute of footage facing the targeted store before it moved. In the video, a man wearing a black sweatshirt speaks to the man behind the clothing store counter, then runs out with his arms full of clothes and small items.

“He didn’t look like he had a gun,” Angela muses.

“Progression,” Tim says simply as he clicks the mouse to play another video. “This is from this week.”

This video is blurrier, but it shows the gun pulled from his pants, aimed at the store clerk, and then jerked toward the murder victim now lying in the morgue.

“For a few hundred dollars,” Nyla sighs. “Okay, what else did you get?”

“Possible name,” Tim says, passing a police record over his shoulder.

“We’ll get a warrant,” Angela responds. “Keep looking. And thank you.”

Tim lifts his phone from the desk, smiles, and sets it aside again. Lucy decides not to comment, but she briefly wonders if you have any idea how far gone Tim Bradford is for you.

You open your wallet to pay at the third store you visit, shaking your head when you see Tim’s credit card tucked in front of your ID. Last night, you told him you didn’t need him to buy you anything, though you appreciated the offer. It’s one of the ways Tim shows he loves you, you know, but it’s not necessary. Maybe you’ll use it on one little thing you can both enjoy, like a book or something for dessert.

With another bag hooked on your arm, you enter a store marketing the newest pop culture merchandise and vinyl records. You don’t need anything, and it isn’t on your list, but you’re sure you’ll find something you like or that Tim might enjoy.

“Welcome,” the store attendant calls over the music. “Let me know if you need help or a fitting room.”

“Thank you,” you reply, walking toward the large clearance sign at the back of the store.

As you look through the hangers of graphic tees and patterned hoodies, your gut tells you something is wrong. Since dating Tim Bradford, your instincts have sharpened and begun to sound like him. You move toward the door but hesitate when you see a limited-edition Dodgers jersey. No one enters the store, and the clerk is more than happy to help you get Tim’s size from the wall and even gives you 10% off. Shaking your head as you exit the store, you check your phone before you head to the next store. Now, when you think about missing Tim, you wonder how you managed to go shopping without him carrying your bags before. The thought makes you smile, and you text Tim another short update and reminder that you love him, for more than carrying your bags… and you, when the occasion calls for it.

“Bradford, you got anything?” Nyla asks over the radio.

“Negative,” Tim replies. “Boss said he didn’t show up today and he’s on his third strike. We’ll drive by the house again, check a few stores along the way.”

“Okay. Keep us updated.”

Tim sets the radio in the console, slowing as he nears a strip mall less than three blocks from the suspect’s job. It looks normal, people come and go freely, so he continues driving.

“Where do you think he is?” Lucy asks.

“Laying low,” he replies. “He isn’t a cold-blooded killer; he shot someone, so he’s probably letting that cool off before he pulls another job.”

“Isn’t it weird that he doesn’t take much? That he hits stores and malls with lower-end prices?”

“He’s targeting places he’s more likely to get away with robbing,” Tim says. “They’re not as likely as say a jewelry store to have cameras or to prosecute. Insurance pays out, they write it off. That’s why a shooting throws such a major wrench in his plan.”

“Interesting,” Lucy hums. “Hey, there’s another mall a block east of here, if you want to check it out.”

Tim nods, hitting his blinker to turn off before they check his house.

“Good morning,” you greet as you enter a men’s clothing store.

“Morning,” the teenage boy behind the counter replies. “Everything is 25% off today, and clearance is buy one get one for a dollar.”

“Awesome. Thank you!”

“Sure. My name’s Dustin, let me know if you need anything.”

You nod, moving slowly along the right wall, looking for something Tim would wear. He spoils you with gifts, and though it isn’t your preferred love language (not like it is for him, at least), you like getting him small things and spending time with him while he enjoys it.

This is the busiest store you’ve been in today, but you attribute that to the sale and the fact that it’s nearing lunchtime. Four men browse the clearance racks while two more talk about colors and debate which items to try on. You smile at the only other woman in the store, who taps her finger back and forth between two different sizes, like she’s trying to remember what size she needs to buy.

“Sir, that door needs to stay open,” Dustin calls. “Mall policy.”

The door clicks closed, and you turn just as the hoodie-wearing man slides the lock into place. “Everybody stay calm, and this will go a lot smoother and faster,” he says.

You step backward, your eyes widening as you drop your bags and fumble for your phone. The woman beside you ducks behind the closest rack, whispering to whom you assume is a 911 dispatcher. One of the men makes a discreet call, holding his phone against his leg. Your first idea isn’t 911, however. After you tap Tim’s name, you pull a shirt off a display table to drape over your wrist and hide your ringing phone.

“Nobody move!” the man demands, raising a gun above his head. “Empty the register.”

Dustin nods as he fumbles with the control on the tablet beside him. The woman beside you ends her call abruptly when the intruder walks toward the back of the store. Tim’s voicemail plays, muffled beneath the shirt as you attempt to end the call. Before you can move your other hand, the man rips the shirt away. His fingers wrap cruelly around your wrist, tugging you closer as he displays your phone to the other shoppers-turned-hostages.

“You see this?” he yells. “Stupid! I said stay calm and stay where you are.”

You turn your head away from him, his voice too loud in your ear, and his touch painful. He twists your arm sharply, causing you to drop your phone onto the table your thighs are pressed against. You quickly forget that your arm is suspended over your head and pulled back painfully when the cold barrel of a gun is pressed against your temple.

“Don’t do what she did,” the man says, quieter now, as his chest heaves against your side. “How’s that register coming?”

“It’s open, but we haven’t been to the bank yet this week or anything, so there isn’t much,” Dustin rambles.

“Well, that won’t do. What should we do about that?” he asks, leaning too close to you as his hand twitches on the gun.

“If he moved out yesterday, he was probably upset about the shooting, right?” Lucy asks, returning to the shop after an unhelpful conversation with the suspect’s former roommate.

“That’s one possibility,” Tim replies, closing the door too hard. His phone lights up, and he furrows his brows when he sees a missed call from you. He wasn’t gone long, and you rarely call when he’s at work. As he prepares to call you back, dispatch radios an alert of a robbery in progress.

“The mall,” Lucy sighs. “Think it’s our guy?”

Tim is no longer concerned about that. He hits the lights and sirens, yanks the gear shift into Drive, and steers the shop into a tight U-turn to speed toward the scene. It’s not just any mall, it’s the mall you are in. Tim decides not to call you back, his adrenaline pumping as his mind threatens to show him the worst-case scenarios.

“Tim,” Lucy grunts. “Easy.”

He doesn’t reply, blowing through a red light as he nears the mall.

“What store?” he asks.

Lucy opts not to argue. She raises the radio to ask where exactly the armed suspect is, then tells Tim. He follows the signs toward the entrance closest to that store, pulling up onto the curb before he pulls his gun from his side and leads Lucy inside.

The mall is evacuating, so people are running out toward their cars, some screaming while others shove people and displays aside carelessly.

“Where?” Tim barks at a security guard cowering behind a table in the food court.

“Straight through this archway, and then right,” the man answers, pointing weakly with his stun gun.

“Put that away before you hurt someone,” Lucy demands.

She follows Tim as they enter the archway. He clears the corner, then moves quickly but carefully toward the closed door separating him from you and a man with a gun.

“Tim, think about this first,” Lucy pleads.

“I am,” he assures, ducking to look through the windows covering the front of the store. “One armed at the back of the store,” he tells her. “One civilian behind the counter.”

“And the door is locked,” Lucy adds, nodding toward the heavy metal rod holding the door in place.

“Back up,” Tim requests.

He stays low and shoots through the glass panel beside the door. It shatters as his shot echoes, but he doesn’t care about the noise as he climbs through the opening, his gun aimed at the thief.

Tim swallows and moves his gun an inch to the left when he sees that the man has a hostage. He reminds himself that he can’t remember it’s you, not if he wants to ensure you go home safely with him. For now, he’s Tim Bradford, the cop, not Tim Bradford, the man with a princess in need of saving. A cruel voice in his head points out that you might not be in this situation if he’d answered your call, but it’s too late to think like that.

“LAPD,” Lucy yells, taking her position beside Tim. “Put the weapon down and let me see your hands."

The man shakes his head and moves behind you, his gun at your temple and his other arm around your neck. You keep your eyes on Tim, your teeth grinding together painfully as you dig your fingers into your palms.

“Out,” Tim demands. Dustin rushes out through the broken window, disappearing around the corner as the two men closest to the entrance follow after him.

“Let the other hostages go,” Lucy encourages. “Then we can talk.”

“Sure,” the man says. “Everyone behind me can go.”

The rest of the customers take that invitation, running as fast as they can out of the store. Then, you’re left alone with a crazed gunman who didn’t get what he wanted, and two cops who don’t have a clear shot. Tim nods to you, nearly imperceptibly, but you don’t know what it means. Is it a promise he’ll save you, a command to do something?

“It’s over,” Tim says. “Let her go, and this goes much smoother for you.”

“I lost everything,” the man behind you replies. “It’s been over.”

You look at Lucy, then quickly turn your eyes to the left. She narrows her eyes slightly, so you move your fingers away from your palm. She tips her head quickly, then adjusts her grip on her gun.

“Bradford,” she murmurs softly. “Derecha.”

At that, you pull to your left, gaining less than a foot of freedom before the man tightens his grip on your neck. Or tries to. Tim takes the opening, firing at his chest. His arm falls away as you stumble back toward Lucy, who holsters her gun and steps toward you.

“Cuff him, Chen,” Tim says, taking her place. He pulls you into his arms, tucking your face against his chest as you cling to his uniform. You hear Lucy talking into her radio, but you’re so relieved to be with Tim that you don’t listen. Within a few minutes, you’re being led away from your boyfriend and escorted into an ambulance. The paramedics tell you it’s just a quick check of your vitals, but you watch the mall parking lot outside as they work, ignorant of what they do as you wait until you can return to Tim.

“I understand,” Tim tells Wade. “Can I go now?”

Wade sighs as he signs off on Tim’s statement. He nods, then walks toward the sergeant interviewing Lucy. Tim turns toward the line of ambulances parked in the handicap spaces, but he doesn’t know which one you’re in.

You’ve been waiting beside a police car for the last minute and a half, watching Tim's back. So, when he turns away from his watch commander and is alone, you don’t hesitate to run toward him. He doesn’t see you coming, yet still manages to catch you in his arms. Relief floods into him, seeping into you where you’re pressed against him.

Tim clings to you, one arm secure around your waist, while the other hand raises to your shoulder to brush your hair away from your face.

“Get out of here, Bradford!” Angela yells when she sees you in his arms. “Take her home!”

Tim takes you to his home, though you spend enough time at each other’s places that the lines are beginning to blur. He pats your hip after helping you change, a silent instruction to sit on his bed. You obey, watching his back as he disappears into the bathroom. You haven’t spoken yet, aren’t sure where to start, but being this close to Tim is the only way you think you’ll be able to deal with what you’ve been through.

When Tim returns, he has a wet cloth and a bottle of lotion. Your bags from the mall are still in Tim’s trunk, but he placed a book, a drink, and your favorite snack on the nightstand for you, so you have more than everything you need.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Tim says, standing between your legs. He sets the lotion beside you, then hooks his finger beneath your chin to lift your face.

“I was scared,” you whisper. “But when you got there, I knew everything would be okay.”

Tim nods, frowning as he observes the bruise on your forehead and the redness of your neck. He dabs the cool washcloth against your injuries, then gently wipes the rest of your face. When he’s content and convinced that you're comfortable, he steps away to put the cloth in the sink, but he’s back at your side in mere seconds.

Tim helps you get comfortable in his bed, reclined against pillows with everything you need in reach. He picks up the lotion as he joins you in bed, passing you the remote. After you turn on your favorite movie, Tim takes your hand. He squeezes a drop of your favorite lotion into your palm, closes the tube against his leg, and rubs his thumb over your palm, spreading the lotion with a relaxing pressure and his usual reverence. He uses both hands to massage you, moving the lotion down your fingers as you relax beside him. Every second he touches you is calming, and you’d be content to stay here forever, you think.

“Thank you,” you say as he finishes with your other hand.

“I should have answered the phone,” he replies. “I’ll answer next time.”

“It’s not your fault, Tim. You saved me. That’s more than I’d ever ask for.”

“You’re going to be okay?”

“I am,” you assure him. “Mostly because you’re here, and I’m not alone.”

Tim smiles, kisses your hand, and invites you to recline against his side. Comfortable under his arm, you can feel his heart beating as he drags his fingers up and down your arm.

“You’ll never be alone,” he promises. “Everything and everyone that you face… your enemies have to contend with me, and I’ll never be far. I won’t miss another call.”

“I love you,” you say, turning your face toward his. “I love you so much, Tim.”

“I love you,” he promises, kissing you gently as he tugs you impossibly closer.

You might be Tim’s princess, but he will always be more than a prince. He’s a knight, a protecter, a pamperer, and that's just the surface of who he is. He’s yours, he’s the love of your life, he’s a constant, and you will be by his side no matter what.

“I was going to buy you a gift,” you murmur, “but something came up.”

“Gifts are my job,” Tim argues. “Besides, this is more than enough for me.”

You chuckle, then pull Tim’s shoulder. He understands what you’re inviting him to do, and he slides down in the bed to hook his arm around your waist and rest his head on your chest.

“Angela wants to know when you’re up to meeting everyone,” Tim says against your sternum, growing heavier against you as you run your nails along his back.

“I was always ready,” you remind him.

“You met Lucy today, that’s enough for now.”

“Whatever you say.”

Tim slides his hands along your waist as he reaches up to kiss your jaw, then he relaxes again, and your memories of being scared disappear as you find comfort in Tim Bradford, growing happier each day you are lucky enough to be his princess.

[mariocki]

New Scotland Yard: Reunion (1.12, LWT, 1972)

"It's not his style!"

"And Clifford's not a very pleasant character."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just I think he's being getting under your skin."

"Well, he'd get under anybody's skin."

"Because he got away with it, before?"

"There are no facts to prove that Clifford wasn't there. Just as there were no facts to prove that he wasn't a party to the bank job, but you and I and every man in this force know that he was."

"And there's damn all we can do about it. Look, I'm not stitching him up just because he happens to have made idiots of us in the past; we have to prove, conclusively, without supposition, who killed Gemmell."

[makingsenseofwhathappened]

Stop Gaslighting Yourself

Hey Tumblerz, I wanted to open up a classic topic today that I find myself thinking about a lot: good old Self-Blame. Especially the kind that shows up after someone crosses a line.

To start off, I hope you have a couple minutes to check out this short sketch, a truly hilarious comedian's take on the subject: If A Robbery Report Was Treated Like A Rape Report.

I found Cynthia Kao's take here brilliantly cutting and hilarious (admittedly a bit disturbing, too). I think it nails the kind of absurdity that can send us into what I sometimes think of as 'self-gaslight' mode. Which is really, really, really common.

This state of mind makes sense because we do live in a world, a quietly coercive system, often designed to make the "blame game" of justice go flip mode on us.

If you're like me, you might find yourself thinking things like:

“Did I give the wrong impression?” “Maybe I shouldn’t have smiled.” “Was that... actually harassment?” “Am I just making a big deal out of nothing?”

If any of this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. And there’s a reason.

Blaming yourself can weirdly feel safer than facing how badly you were treated. The thinking goes: if it was your fault, then maybe you’re still in control after all - you can do better or fix it next time - and you aren't powerless to stop it from happening again.

That's comforting psychology. A mindset I've sunk into myself many times. But here’s the thing you have to remember: you simply were not the problem, you just weren't - you weren’t the one with the power in that situation.

Sadly, a lot of people who’ve been harassed don’t even recognize it as harassment at first. Work and pop culture train us to smooth things over, give the benefit of the doubt regardless of context, be chill, act “professional," on and on.

What I'm trying to say is, your reaction to self-gaslight makes sense. But that doesn’t mean you deserved what happened. And you don’t have to carry the guilt just because the system made it easier to blame yourself than to hold someone else accountable.

By the way, I have to say here that it’s okay if you’re still untangling how it made you feel. That’s not weakness, it’s actually your wisdom in progress.

Just know you’re not crazy or overreacting. You’re just living in a world that doesn’t always want to believe you. But some of us do. And we’re not going anywhere.

That went longer than I expected 🤓 ☺️. Thank you for reading.

Much love.

[kariachi]

#it really is SUCH an interesting take for an omnitrix user#like yknow a fan wouldve expected smth like a max or even a kevin#but then the show couldnt include those without having good reason not to keep them on the team#so they add an argit and the expectation is that the heroes r all leaving bc obv hes not worth it#but then u actually think about it. and its not rly funny as much as fascinating#i especially like how given that we see nothing of his universe i can imagine that its peaceful thanks to him#like hes got one of the most peaceful universes#the money wasnt even a bribe it was all just gifts ppl have given him that they wouldnt lket him refuse#its like bens trophy closet#ben 10 (via @expired-blueberries)

It is fascinating as a concept, both because it's far from what you would expect from Argit and because he's so different from the Tennysons that otherwise seem to make up all the Omnitrix wielders. We only have our Argit to go off, but even at his best he's not especially brave, he's not a fighter, his fear responses are flight and fawn, and we don't know if he has the drive the Tennysons do that makes them burn to help people and life just beat it into a paste for him or if he's more of a 'big things' sort of person.

Like, with the various Bens and with Gwen, even though their dimensions are very different they're all coming from approximately the same place. Gwen is the outlier there, in that she has a different immediate family and upbringing, but she's still the same family, and close family at that. Argit, meanwhile, this is an entirely different person starting from an entirely different place. The earliest we see him in the Prime dimension is being held captive by law enforcement for the sake of evil experimentation, he sold his own mom at some point, I think we can reasonably assume that even if we go with a universe in which he got the Omnitrix at the time Ben would have he was probably coming from a far different- and probably far worse- background, and that would affect shit.

Once you stop laughing at the idea and actually think about it, there's a million different questions. How is he using his Omnitrix? Clearly he's doing good because Paradox counted him in the list, so what sort of good is he doing? How does his good differ from the Tennysons'? How does he differ from Prime Argit? What does this say about Prime Argit?

Because dear gods once you step back and actually look at Argit through the lens of 'there's a dimension where he's close enough to Good to count for the hero team'? And then you look at some of the things he's done and said? Like, what is the baseline Argit? Is it something closer to what we see in that Rooters flashback? It would make sense, it's not hard to see how his behavior there could evolve into a form of hero given the right pushes in the right directions. And if that's the case, is there potential for Prime Argit to develop into something closer to that? Fuck, given the differences between him pre and during the Rooters arc (in which he joins a fight he doesn't have to, goes on the run with Kevin when there's no indication he needs to (and if he doesn't then it actively hurts him to do so through lost business), is the only one to retain faith in him, and even seems to be braver given the whole 'not scared enough to quill a Waybad actively trying to catch him even though before just being surprised by one was enough to get him quilling' thing), and that we know Servantis can fuck with shit to get people doing what he wants from them (we see it with the Amalgams), you end up having to wonder how much of his bullshit was cranked up by Servantis? I mean, it would make sense, if his whole plan was for Kevin to kill Ben, to try to isolate him from the guy who stopped him finishing his mission last time, and would explain why an Argit who could quill Kevin to save other people as a child and who took down a WayBad in the future wouldn't even seem to consider quilling Kevin when the guy was actively out to kill him.

And there's me rambling again.

But, yes, it's just- Argit 10, once you look passed the 'haha Argit could never be a proper owner of an Omnitrix' (and lets be real, the staff never expected us to look passed that) it opens so many questions, so many possibilities, and adds a whole new dimension to how you can look at Argit even before the Rooters arc comes along and only enhances it.

I still love that Argit 10 was entirely unbothered by the villain side of that two-parter.

Because here's the thing- Paradox takes No-Watch Ben to five dimensions for this 'good guy specific' recruitment drive.

Prime Ben's. He's unquestionably one of the good guys.

Ben 10k's. He's unquestionably one of the good guys.

Gwen 10's. She's unquestionably one of the good guys.

Ben 23's. He was engaging in villainous behavior (and given we know that there were already aliens living peacefully on Earth before the Omnitrix, yeah this kid definitely made their lives that much harder by encouraging violent anti-alien sentiment among the populace and given his 'wait some aliens aren't pure evil?!' reactions he probably attacked at least some innocent fuckers in his time- good intentions doesn't mean good) up until a recent turnaround, and it's shown with the villains trying to force him back into the fold, but now he's one of the good guys.

And Argit 10's. Who was shown Scrooge McDucking it, but with two key features.

Paradox brought them there. Remember, this whole interdimensional trip is specifically stated by Paradox to be to gather up the good Omnitrix Wielders.

There's no sign of the villains. After 23 turned his life around and they still tried to recruit his ass, by force if necessary, there's nothing to suggest Argit has even been bothered.

The first one is important because it sets a very important stage- Paradox considers Argit 10 one of the good guys. Everyone else he brings No-Watch to is either undoubtedly a good guy or has turned themselves around to become a proper good guy. Not neutral, not 'maybe we can bribe him', he specifically says they looking for the good ones, and then brings them there.

The second one is important because after seeing the villains trying to force 23- the only one on Team Good with his own track record- to join their ranks, that leaves only a few options for why Argit wouldn't have been bothered.

Argit is firmly enough on the good side that they didn't bother- a la Gwen 10, 10k, Prime

Argit is iffy but not about to join Team Bad- a la 23- and avoided the 'we don't take no for an answer' fight by quilling a bitch as soon as they didn't take a no

Argit is iffy- a la 23- but the villains also took one look and said 'fuck that', which honestly I doubt because if nothing else you would think since one would probably assume he was highly bribeable at first glance he'd be a prime target to try to get for Team Bad, that'd be an easy recruitment there

So, yeah. Argit 10 can be reasonably assumed to be one of the good guys, or at worst iffy-leaning-towards-good, and may not even have been considered by the villains- unlike our dear 23- though we can't know whether that was due to morality levels or just everybody looking at him and going 'no thank you'.

It's a brief scene, and it's used as a gag, but it really is interesting and opens some potential doors for our rat.

[transmechanicus]

Vampires who act like you’re insane for getting a job are just stubborn pricks without the psychic fortitude for job applications. Oh what’s that, i don’t need a job bc i no longer have food bills? Cool, cool cool cool, how tf am i gonna pay rent bitch? Or a mortgage on any place more cushy than an extant example of every possible violation of building safety code? You think nobody’s gonna do the math when i pay up with a different dead guy’s credit card every month? You’re cool with just never engaging with the progress of technology and digital infrastructure? You aren’t ever gettin concert tickets again that you didn’t pull from your lunch’s pocket? Stressful fucking life, i’m out here in the hospital basement making fat stacks and yoinking fresh bagged blood while you have an SI kill team breaking down the door of your condemned little duplex bc you do all your shopping via combination fraud, robbery, and homicide.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

more words for your fight scenes (pt. 2)

Arrive

admission, alight, appearance, arrival, billow, butt in, come in, cross, disembark, embark, enter, foray, get back, get on, go ahead, immigrate, influx, intrude, invasion, lance, light, lunge, penetrate, pierce, progress, reach, return, stalk, trespass, turn up

Illegal behavior

assault, backstab, bleed, break, bribe, buy, conspire, contravene, delinquency, disobey, extortion, felony, foul, graft, hara-kiri, holdup, imposture, infringe, intrigue, kickback, larceny, loot, misconduct, misdeed/misdemeanor, offense, pick, piracy, poach, rip off, rip-off, robbery, shenanigans, smear campaign, speculation, stick up, take, theft, treason, victimize, violation

Join physically

link, merge, mingle, piece, splice, tuck, unite, weld, yoke

Jump

bounce, clear, dive, gallop, hop, lunge, plunge, rear, recoil, skip, start, vault

Leave

abandon, back, blow, bolt, break, break out, cringe, dart, depart, desert, deviate, digress, disappearance, distance, draw back, ebb, embark, exit, fall back, flee, fly, get along, get out, goodbye, go out, jilt, light out, maroon, parting, push off/push on, quit, recoil, renunciation, resign, retire, run, scram, segregation, shake off, shrink, strike out, takeoff, threads, trousers, vacate, withdrawal

Prepare physically

acclimate, accustom, braid, brush up, bundle, coat, disguise, domesticate, dress, embattle, fine-tune, fix up, fortify, gear, gild, gloss, grease, habituate, knit, make up, modulate, overhaul, pad, plaster, polish, prepare, preserve, primp, reform, refrigerate, regenerate, rejuvenate, renovate, round, set, shine, smear, square, strain, toughen, training, weather

Pull

drag, extract, lug, pluck, schlep, strain, tow, twist, wrench, yank

Push

advance, back, barge in/barge into, billow, blow up, bulge, burst, compress, crowd, crush, depress, drive, extrude, force, indent, insinuate, jam, jolt, knead, mash, mob, notch, poke, prod, protrude, pump, repel, roll, shove, slam, squish, tax, tip, trample, wrestle, wring

Weapon

A-bomb, armament(s), arrow, atom bomb, battery, bullet, catapult, defense, explosive, firearm, gun, missile, nuclear weapon, ordnance, rocket

NOTE

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary. Writing Resources PDFs

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary ⚜ part 1 Writing Notes: Fight Scenes ⚜ Word Lists: Fight ⚜ Pain

[goggles-mcgee]

Phantom Fudge

I love the fics of Danny settling into Gotham and having some sort of business and just absolutely confusing the Batfam with how flippant he is about the crime.

My take is, instead of a coffee shop or bookstore or occult shop, Danny opens a fudge shop!

His parents taught him, and he found he actually really loved it, and besides, his dream of being an astronaut was out of reach due to his unique medical readings. In this au, his parents learned about him being Phantom and took it well after a good period of spiraling because-Holy shit they shot their son. You may be asking, Goggles, didn't you just make a post that was all about Jack and Maddie not taking the news well? Yes. Yes, I did.

I go back and forth with wanting to salt them and not. I like both.

So anyways, Danny is the heir to the Ghost Throne, but he won't actually take up the official title until his time on Earth is naturally over. After everything got better with his parents and his regular ghost fighting buddies, he actually was able to raise his grades and graduate. Many teachers were amazed at the progress but really, Danny may not have been as smart as his parents and sister (he is an unreliable narrator and is actually very smart just not as conventional as his family) but before his accident he had done pretty good in school. The GIW was still a thing, but without the Fenton technology, they weren't doing as well as they previously did. His parents broke their contract after they rescued him from the GIW labs, it was a little after he told his parents about his halfa status and they came storming in to save him and all the other ghosts that were captured. After that, life got so much better. His parents listened to him, and he got to teach them all about his people. They started publishing more papers with actually accurate information and were doing their best to overturn the anti-ecto acts. They haven't accomplished it, but Danny was sure they would.

That's actually why he moved to Gotham. Tucker had the idea of contacting the Justice League to help with the anti-ecto laws, but their calls weren't being answered. Neither were the...strongly worded emails Sam sent in. So Danny did what he did best and jumped into something not entirely thought out but hoping for the best. He moved to Gotham so he could get close to Batman and ask for help. He got accepted into Gotham University on a scholarship. But he wanted to make some money on his own without his parents sending him some kind of allowance, and he didn't want to work at Bat Burger. He started selling fudge around winter at his school, and he got permission to do so.

From there, he got enough money to actually open a small fudge cart. Then he got enough for a small shop near his apartment which was rather close to Crim Alley so he hired some working girls to help with the shop and he employed any Alley Kids looking for some cash as delivery workers. (They only delivered in Crime Alley, though, but that was fine with Danny.) Danny loved his little fudge shop that he lovingly named Phantom Fudge, and the sign had a cute little ghost eating some fudge on it. When he was in school for classes, he left the shop in his friend Ginger's hands. She had been a working girl before, but before that, she had had experience working a small mom & pop kind of shop, so Danny felt good leaving her in charge. When Ellie visited, she helped out with the shop too.

Danny was thriving. Then he started getting customers of the ecto variety because, of course, he would. Apparently, he was something of an ecto filter for the shades and ghost of Gotham, so they would visit his shop to soak up some of the pure ectoplasm in the air. Then he experimented and made some ecto-fudge, which is what he gave to any ecto beings that entered his shop. Most couldn't pay, but they would give him a heads up if they saw anything shady happening around his shop.

Like a little heads up that some robberies were happening in the area, or some rogue was getting close. It was a nice little system they had. Though some ghosts came in just to tell him their unfinished business and like...he wasn’t King yet, but these were his people, so he tried to help them out as best they could.

One particular couple showed up a lot and would ask him to help warn their son of any danger they heard was brewing. They would ask him to leave messages for the son or any of his kids but also the butler if needed. Danby thought this guy had some great parents. They didn't cross over because they needed to make sure their son was safe and taken care of. It was most likely that they wouldn't cross until their son did by the sounds of it. He got permission to call them Grandma and Grandpa, which was weird, but he didn't question it.

Martha and Thomas were nice spirits, so he had no problem helping them out. But Danny is Danny and his well-intentioned help of course caught the eye of the whole batfam.

They had been receiving letters in the Manor that appeared mysteriously. The first one they had all thought was a prank from the many people there. It was a simple, 'Don’t go to the gala. Something bad will happen.' That started it all. They were all baffled but laughed it off, and those who went to the gala didn't know how to feel when the seeming wait staff took over the event and held the guests hostage.

A coincidence surely.

Then they got another note, 'Freeze is planning to do a B&E and snatch some equipment from a Wayne lab. Idk which one since you have so many.' And just like last time, the note was speaking the truth. It continued from there, and everyone tried to capture whoever or whatever was leaving the notes, but any cameras they had glitched out before returning to normal and showing a new note had showed uo somewhere in the Manor. Bruce was going crazy trying to figure out who or what their messenger was.

Alfred once found a note that said, 'Tim has been awake and pushing himself too far. He is going to crash.' He took it to heart though and made Tim rest and take a break. He would not let the note happen. Tim had had far too many crashes the past couple of months.

The note that broke Bruce, though, was small in words, but it made him feel crazy. It was his parent's death anniversary, and when he went to visit the exact spot, he saw a sticky note on the floor. He shakily picked it up to see all it said was, 'It's okay.'

Now he is really worked up and determined to find the note messenger.

While that's going on, Danny also gets some local vigilantes visiting his shop, and he is so excited to see them and try and be their friend so he can ask for help. Plus they seem to be fans of his fudge and that just makes him happy.

The batkids thing the Phantom Fudge shop owner is suspicious, but hot damn did he make some bomb ass fudge.