#I still like to think that the rest of Pink's band are just regular David Nick and Rick. its the funniest option

[asurrogateblog]

since Pink from The Wall is basically a combination of Roger and Syd I decided that (ignoring the movie) Pink would also look like a combination of them so I went through the mortifying ordeal of downloading pictures of their faces and putting them through a merger and BEHOLD

it's him.... in the flesh :)

[incoherentbabblings]

Take Back the Cake, Burn the Shoes, and Boil the Rice (2/11)

Within two months there have been two murders of Gotham newlyweds moments after the ceremony. The only connecting factor was both brides wore the same designer’s work. Needing to establish who exactly is behind the crimes, Bruce enlists Tim and Stephanie to have the biggest wedding Gotham high society has seen in decades, putting a target on their heads not just for the killer, but Gotham society too. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

Ao3 Link Here!

Tim’s Thursday began well – a morning at work which had ended with his lunch break going into one of Gotham’s nicest department stores. He had pulled some strings, using Wayne “clout”, to get an appointment with the jewellers there.

Bruce had said no budget, and Tim was going to take him at his word.

Now he was sat, glass of bubbly champagne sitting untouched, at the desk of a man with a thinner moustache than Alfred, but a belly three times the size. Tim rubbed his knees, more than a little uncomfortable.

“I need an engagement ring, a promise ring, and wedding bands.”

He had a plan, of sorts. The engagement and wedding rings were all for show – the more expensive, the better. He didn’t want them to be ugly – he wasn’t going to make Stephanie wear something she loathed on her finger for two months, and he wasn’t that frivolous with money – but they had to be ostentatious enough to catch people’s attention. The fact that he was even here would be enough, but let it be said that the Bats knew drama like no other.

The promise ring was… well it was part of a plan that Tim had no proof would ever reach the stage of being offered, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared. That one, he would buy with nothing but Stephanie in mind.

The man at the table blinked, gears in his head turning, and he became ever more effusive. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together.

“Any ideas for these rings?”

Tim raised his chin, trying to appear confident. “Purple and white for the engagement, plain wedding band for me but diamonds for hers.”

“Budget?”

Tim scoffed, and the man smiled widely.

“It’s such a moment for me, to have a Wayne be a patron once more. Mr Wayne’s father used to frequent here, or so I’m told. You’re in good company.”

The endless cabinets that circled the room were suddenly emptied by a small army of assistants, each laying out more diamonds and sapphires and amethysts than Tim would ever know what to do with. The amount of money in this room… no wonder people hated him and his family.

Trying not to appear overwhelmed, Tim quickly chose the wedding bands. White gold, Stephanie’s with embedded diamonds that circled the entire ring, his a chunky thing that felt weighty on his finger. A constant reminder of the promise he would make. Tim smiled tightly at the thought. With a little luck, he would make that promise to be faithful and true and in sickness and in health... With a lot of luck, he’d be able to fulfil those promises, and she for him.

For now though, he was stuck buying rings that he knew neither of them truly wanted.

He and Steph both didn’t like white gold… though how Tim knew this, he didn’t know. It just lacked a warmth. Stephanie didn’t wear much jewellery anyway. The odd set of earrings here and there, one or two necklaces… no rings. No bracelets. No watches.

He wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t like to, or she just couldn’t afford to.

Resting his chin on an arm on the table, Tim mused over a shortlisted row of rings. The man across the table licked his lips and leaned in closer. Tim moved backwards, a little put out. The man seemed undeterred.

“May I enquire… the lady you are buying these for?

Oh boy. And with that it started. He told the truth, for whatever it was worth. He smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it would fool the overly curious seller.

“I’ve known her since I was fourteen.” True. “Childhood sweetheart, I guess?” Half true. False. For now.

Down boy. Focus.

Tim finally settled on a sapphire ring that was almost lilac in shade. Twelve carats, whatever that meant, surrounded by oval shaped diamonds and smaller, glimmering purple and pink stones. It was huge, with no price given, and was sure to make Stephanie cringe.

“David Morris…” The man nodded approvingly, like Tim was supposed to know or care who that was. “His son continues to do very good work. That ring is a beauty no?”

It would do.

“And the promise ring? For the same lady?”

Tim tried not to read into much about the implication that he kept multiple women.

“Yeah… Rose gold for this one.”

The man’s nose twitched, and with a wave of his hand more rings appeared, though the selection was much smaller.

Tim didn’t like any of them, however. Too granny-ish. Rose gold wasn’t popular with the younger crowd apparently. The sales manager sighed sadly, tapping his fingers on the table, thinking of a solution. Tim knew he was acting exaggeratedly, as what Tim wanted wasn’t impossible to provide. Especially not at the price he was about to pay.

“Is there one perhaps, you do like, that we could refit? We could make something entirely bespoke, if you wished, but if there is one design –”

“The pink sapphire – the one that looks like a flower.” With a jerk of his jaw, Tim drew the man’s attention to a smaller set of rings. Still much more expensive than what 90% of Gotham’s population would be willing to pay for a ring, but more manageable for Tim.

The man patted his belly. “Are you sure Mr Wayne? It is only two carats. There are other—”

“Drake-Wayne.” Tim interrupted quietly, still looking at the ring. “And yes. I’m sure.”

A diamond shaped pink sapphire sat surrounded by eight pear shaped diamonds, with the gaps between the points filled with more pink sapphires. The band also had embedded diamonds, but they stopped part of the way round. It was currently in white gold, but Tim thought it would look better in the softer pink shaded gold. It was utterly girly, and he wanted it for Stephanie.

Before he signed an agreement which contained too many zeroes, Tim threw in a bracelet for good measure with carved rubies. Birds were engraved in the deep red, and Tim wanted Stephanie to have something that was shamelessly meant to make her think of him whenever she saw it.

In the back of his head he could hear Stephanie’s discomfort, but he had a date to attend to. Hiding in one of the department store’s bathroom cubicles, he threw off his suit in a way that would have Alfred disappointed in him, switching for a t-shirt and a plaid over-shirt with dark jeans. Ramming his dress shoes into his backpack, he fled the store, high on excitement and the knowledge that he had just spent a million dollars on jewellery. Hopping in his red car and tossing his bag towards the trunk, Tim patted himself on the back, then set off for the college campus.

Stephanie was waiting for him, at the steps of one of the medical buildings. Tim was laughing before she even got in the car.

“What?” She said, collapsing in a heap. “What’s so funny?”

“We match.”

Stephanie recoiled, noticing that she was wearing a thin plaid hoodie, green t-shirt and jeans. Looking at Tim’s clothes, she cursed quietly.

A moment’s pause followed, Tim laughing to himself against the wheel of the redbird. It had been some time since he had laughed just because something was funny, and not from an occasion calling for a fake smile or laughing in derision at himself or others.

It was enough to make her want to tease him.

Wordlessly, she went to leave the car, reopening the door. Tim squeaked, reaching across her and shutting it.

“No! It’s cute! Come on, I got my skateboards in the back. Gonna have you riding by the end of the day.”

“Right.” She threw on her seatbelt. Tim set off. They sat in happy silence for a while as they moved from one Gotham island to another. Growing more comfortable, the radio playing quietly, barely above the sound of the engine, Stephanie smiled.

“Dare I ask how was work this morning?”

Tim gave such a sigh that signalled that he was happy, albeit a little stressed. “It’s okay actually!” He confirmed. “Getting started with a couple new projects, so lots to plan.”

“Bruce helping you?”

“Yeah, actually he’s…” He turned into the multi-storey, getting through the barrier. “I think he’s pulling back on a bunch of stuff.”

“Getting ready to retire at the ripe age of forty-seven? Tragic.”

Tim laughed again, backing the car into a tight space expertly. “Well, not like Dick is in a hurry to join the board.”

“No, he’s busy preparing to cover the other job I think.”

“Right.” Handbrake on. Engine off. “Dick will do the Gotham night job; I’ll do the Gotham day.”

He sounded content with that routine. Stephanie thought he was lying.

“Cass?”

“International night job.”

“Damian?”

Tim shrugged, opening the door and getting out. Before Stephanie could get out on her own, Tim was already at her side, opening the door for her. She clambered out, the redbird sat pretty low compared to her own little car.

It was cloudy, but dry, spring well under way. Robinson park was filled with lines and lines of blooming flowers, little lakes with bobbing ducks, and large open spaces to lay out and snooze. Plenty of space to practice her balance and roll in a straight line.

Stephanie put on her backpack and tried not to look clumsy when Tim handed her one of his boards.

She gasped when he slapped a helmet on her head. Slapping it repeatedly, he laughed.

“Safety first.”

And so began their ‘dates’. Two weeks of what would have been considered beforehand just a regular day of them hanging out, now had different connotations. She took a step by holding his hand everywhere. He took a step by taking many photos of her to post online, either alone or with Cassandra when she deigned to join them. Steph would frequently grow embarrassed by the attention, and insist he be in half of the photos with her.

Honestly, it was not as bad as she feared, however that was largely because of how shallow the interactions felt. Not much of substance was spoken, largely because they couldn’t, being in such public spaces. She could feel people doing double takes at them, and every now and then someone would take photographs, but it was never enough to disorient her.

So far so good. Except she suspected the reason they were being left to their own devices was that they had been seen together in the past, Cassandra usually in tow, so she was nothing more than a family friend. They were going to have to up the ante a little.

Stephanie met Tim one night at the base of Wayne Tower. He had changed again for her, out of his suit.

“You look handsome.” She teased. Tim burned red. He said nothing, only staring at her, then went to lean forward for a greeting kiss.

Stephanie leaped back. She didn’t mean to, and she tried not to think too much of how vulnerable Tim looked from her rejection. Gulping, she buried herself into his chest, tugging his left arm around her waist.

“Where are we heading?” She asked, desperate to move on from that awkward moment.

Tim’s coat pocket buzzed aggressively. When he looked, he swore.

“What?”

“It’s a text… from Dick?”

Stephanie grabbed his arm.

There’s a festival on Amusement Mile tonight! Could be fun wink wink.

Stephanie was flabbergasted. “I thought he was in space? Like fifty light years away?”

Tim stared at the screen. “He is…”

He looked down at her, and the two exchanged confused glances.

“You mean he—”

“Found a way to text me across time and space only for the message to be to take you to the fair? Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Tim sighed, dragging a laughing Stephanie off with him in the direction of Amusement Mile.

“Wingman to the rescue!” Chortling to herself, Tim couldn’t help but join in.

Amusement mile was lit up bright when they arrived, music blasting and lots of young families crowding in. Dick had done good in pouring half his inheritance into the strip, despite it being an obvious target for people like the Joker. The Wayne’s had stubbornly continued to fund it alongside the city council, allowing for entertainment beyond shopping in Gotham.

It had a certain charm about it – well maintained, but still old fashioned. The lighting was warm, oranges and yellows and reds, and each ride and stall was blasting out its own variety of generic trance and dance music. It was so busy that it felt private, as everyone was absorbed with their own fun.

“Want a snack?” Stephanie asked, pulling Tim over to one of the vans. “I have a hankering for nachos.”

“I dunno. Kind of want something sweet.” And then he nudged her.

She made a face, brain now focusing on the prospect of salty fried food. “Urr no. Sweets is for after.” She joined the queue, rummaging through her little bag for her purse.

Tim groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “You missed my clever flirt!”

She rotated to stare, feet fixed in place. “Huh?”

Suddenly Tim was bashful. He couldn’t say it again. She had rejected him twice now, and so decisively too.

“Doesn’t matter.” He said.

Eyebrows drawn into a frown, Stephanie watched as Tim smiled awkwardly. He would do it when hurt, but not willing to admit it. The next step would be shuffling his feet, jamming his hands in his pocket, and directing his gaze elsewhere, anywhere but the person who had hurt him.

Stephanie watched as he proceeded to do exactly that.

She hated seeing him sad, even if she didn’t understand why. Reaching up, she cradled the back of his neck, fingers in his black hair, trying to provide some sort of physical comfort. She felt how tense his muscles were, and Tim sighed when she squeezed and rubbed at the base of his skull. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed her touch, making do with what she could offer him.

“Tim?”

“Mm.”

“What’s wrong?” He blinked, expression freezing.

“Nothing.”

“No, there is.” They stepped forward in the queue. “Tell me?”

Quietly pleading, Stephanie resumed her strokes. Tim tilted his head, allowing her better access.

“Nightmares.” Tim answered. Cooing, she curled closer. Neither of them knew how genuine the other was being, but Tim played along regardless. “It… they aren’t of anything specific, but I just wake up with like…this pressure on my chest and I don’t sleep well.”

“Honey, you’ve never slept well.” Pet names. Tim’s heart stuttered a little. He missed her sweethearts and honeys, more than he realised. He lied to himself and believed she was saying them sincerely, and not just playing the role of the concerned girlfriend. Her thumb found the bone behind his ear, rubbing it therapeutically. “When did these kind start?”

Another step forward in the queue. As the pair spoke, they had moved closer and closer, and Tim’s arm had begun to wrap around her waist. Stephanie distantly heard people behind them muttering, and could feel others staring at the overt pda, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Couple of months ago.”

The comfort that Tim felt at her miserable look was indescribable. That wasn’t faked, she wasn’t capable of lying with that level of sincerity. It wasn’t that he enjoyed her being sad at his expense, not even close, but the confirmation that she still cared deeply was heartening. Whether it was people in general or specifically directed at himself, Tim didn’t care. Being Batgirl hadn’t dampened her kindness.

Not for the first time, Tim was struck at how much she had grown, and how much he had seemingly regressed. Paralleled journeys, but Tim couldn’t bring himself to accept that he was destined to be as lonely and as miserable as he felt on his worst nights. He hadn’t completely given up hope. Neither had Steph, because after a moment of thought, she reassuringly tugged on his earlobe.

“We’ll figure it out.” She said. And then, unable to help herself, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. It could have been read as platonic, as it was so quick and chaste to be seen as anything but, however when he turned to look at her, expression a little desperate, hand on her hip twitching, it seemed she finally understood what he wanted.

They kissed, once, twice, three times before a flash of light, the flash of a phone, made Stephanie break away. Tim turned his head, noticing a group of teens trying to hide their phones.

Bingo. He couldn’t help it, he smiled smugly.

Stephanie seemed to catch it and became stiff in his hold. They were called forward to the van, and Stephanie stepped away from Tim in a vain attempt to move forward and distract herself.

Kissing him was a mistake. She had avoided it then and she should have avoided it now, but he had played her like a piano and… it had felt right.

Breath shaking, she paid for her food. Tim put his arm back around her, and she cursed herself for relaxing back into it. Her body and mind were of two different opinions for Tim, and it was making her miserable.

She continued to play the game, feeding Tim chips, making him take photos of her on the merry-go-round, clinging close to his side, but as the night went on, she felt increasingly hollow. It would almost have been easier to pretend to be in love with someone she loathed, but being there with Tim, knowing that his smiles were genuine when the circumstances were forced... It was emotionally taxing.

She couldn’t tell, not anymore, what was real and what was just to grab folk’s attention, and it was eating at her. What made it more intolerable was that her and Tim were spending no time together in private. And how could they? College was kicking her ass more than normal and Tim had a high-flying job that required so much of his time. When they were free, they were out together.

She craved alone time with him.

Tim meanwhile saw Stephanie was faltering and tried to think of a way to end the evening on a high note.

“You ever won one of those arcade games?”

Stephanie, whose face was half hidden behind a giant ball of cotton candy, was quiet when she responded, “I thought they were rigged.”

“Oh sure. There’s a knack to them though.”

He looked around at one he could win at.

The shooting range was closest. The prizes ranged from mediocre to crass, but Stephanie didn’t miss the childish glee that sparked in his eyes at the sight of a ridiculously large plush duck. Like a rubber duck for the bathtub, but the size of a toddler. It was the kind of thing she could have straddled and bounced along the road on if she was determined enough.

“Tim please don’t win me that duck.”

“You don’t want it?”

“I do not need a giant duck.”

“Not asking if you need it.” He took a large chunk of her cotton candy, shivering in delight when it dissolved in his mouth. “Asking if you wanted it.”

Still hidden behind the sugar, she looked down. “My answer doesn’t matter does it? You’re gonna show off?”

“Oh yeah. You want a go too?”

“No… no I’ll watch you.”

And over they wandered to the stall. They had to wait until a young father and his daughter finished their turn before Tim could step forward. Stephanie watched them, the father encouraging his little girl. She wasn’t very good, as to be expected of a seven-year-old, and so won nothing. She got upset for a moment, distraught that she wasn’t good enough to get a prize. Her father got down next to her for a hug, muttering reassurances.

Impulsively, Stephanie butted in.

“Excuse me?” Both the girl and father looked up. The dad’s suspicious look turned friendly when he saw it was Stephanie’s unthreatening form. She held out her cotton candy. “I’m full. Do you think she’d want this?” A pause, as both parties processed what she was offering. “Is she allowed candy? I just… I just…”

She trailed off awkwardly, regretting having spoken. The little girl released Stephanie from the emotional turmoil and turned to her father.

“Can I?”

The father took the stick from Stephanie. He looked a little bamboozled by the abruptness of the offer. He nodded his thanks, then nudged the little girl, who squealed.

“Thank you!”

“Welcome.”

As the father and daughter walked away, the dad caught Stephanie staring at his little girl. Stephanie tried to smile in a way that was endearing at the man, and not like she was thinking of twelve different ways to stuff the little girl in the boot of her car. The father smiled back, so Stephanie supposed it worked.

She turned back to the stall, to see Tim smiling dopily at her. He kissed her temple, and she sighed, tension leaving her as he did so. He walked towards the vendor, calling out over his shoulder,

“You’re too good for this city sometimes… you know that, right?”

“Tim…” She wandered back to his side. “Just win me that duck, would you?”

And win her the ridiculous duck he did. Stephanie knew the entire family were pretty handy with guns. She herself was good with them, though she loathed their weight in her hands. Jason aside, Dick was the best shot she’d ever seen, and of course Kate knew her way around a firearm too, so she should have expected it from Tim.

He shot the row of ducks quickly and smoothly, definitely showing off, but Stephanie couldn’t really find it in her to pretend to be impressed. The rifle was old, the pellets were harmless, and Tim was shooting yellow plastic ducks on a rotating bicycle chain... But still. She didn’t like seeing Tim with a gun.

The duck seemed larger off the hanger, and she struggled to hold it without it tripping her up or completely unbalancing her.

As they walked away, Stephanie resorted to pulling it up, resting on her head like a basket filled with goods for the local market.

“Very nice.” Tim teased. He nudged her, making her stumble to the side, completely off kilter with such a weight on her head. She laughed breathlessly, then threw herself back at him. He caught her, hands in intimate places, and pulled her round. She quickly got the idea, and hopped on his back, resting her chin on his shoulder. She placed the duck on top of them both, and Tim stumbled out the fair, deliriously happy that her mood had been lifted.

They barely noticed the stares and photos that were taken. The following morning Stephanie saw she had been tagged in a few Instagram posts, and on twitter the pair were mildly trending, though not enough to cause her alarm. She continued to attend her classes and not speak to Tim until he would message her, asking when she was next free.

It was a Friday, three weeks into their ‘dating’ when he asked her out to dinner.

A nice dinner.

A really nice dinner.

“Alfred bought you some clothes.” Tim had said when he came to pick her up that night. Crystal had answered the door to glower at Tim, only to find him holding four hangers with dresses on them. Stephanie, pushing in front of her mother, was wearing a basic pink dress. The ones in Tim’s arms were blue or green. No babyish pink to be found.

“What I’m wearing isn’t good enough for you?”

Faced with two potentially angry Browns, Tim shook his head.

“No! No, you look beautiful! You always look beautiful.”

Crystal snorted; Stephanie looked like she was going to cry. She was wearing her hair up in a bun, tiny earrings hanging from her lobes. She peered at the choices.

“Alfred bought them?”

“He was shopping for Cassandra and saw these. Said they made him think of you.”

“Somehow I don’t find that reassuring.” She took them from his grip and turned back around, stomping back inside. If Tim had been expecting to be allowed back in the house, he was denied. Crystal remained in the doorway, wearing a faded blue dressing gown. Her slippers were grey and fluffy. She was one of the most intimidating things he had ever looked at.

He tried to smile at her, but she wouldn’t have it.

“You are ruining her life.”

The sentence was short, sharp, and honest. Tim’s breathing stopped, and he said nothing in response. Thoroughly shamed, he stared at his feet.

Not me. He wanted to beg. Bruce. Bruce was the one who failed her.

But he knew that Crystal was referring to them all, the whole lot of them, when she said “you”. He also knew that Crystal knew what they were about to go through, and was not happy about it.

There was a part of him, out of anger for Steph, and maybe he was projecting a little after his own parents, that wanted nothing more to snap at her: Oh? Now you care about your daughter’s wellbeing?

Tim had taken care of Steph years before Crystal had gotten her act together. Heck, it had taken Steph dying for Crystal to truly pull herself together. No drugs, no emotional unavailability, no shitty husbands and brothers and friends hanging around the house on her watch.

Tim bit his tongue. Stephanie was trying so hard to have a functional relationship with her mother, but Tim couldn’t let go of the disappointment on her behalf.

Not that Tim had much better examples to go off of, Dana more than anyone tried the hardest, and whilst Bruce tried...

No. Not going down that rabbit hole.

Tim said nothing, knowing no words would help the situation, and cowered under Crystal’s stare. The ring in his blazer pocket weighed heavier and heavier with each passing moment. He had kept the engagement ring on his person since he had taken it home, not knowing when he would have to whip it out.

His other pocket buzzed then. His phone. Pulling it out, thankful for a distraction from the silent tower of a future “mother-in-law”, he saw that Bruce was phoning.

Caught between not wanting to appear rude to Crystal and potentially missing important information from Bruce, Tim decided that Crystal’s opinion of him was already shot, and answered the phone, still avoiding her stare.

“Hey Bruce. Just about to take Steph out. What’s up?”

“Another couple have died.”

Tim finally looked upwards at Crystal, seeing that she could sense something had gone wrong.

“…Same connection?”

“Yes.”

The ring felt a thousand tonnes.

“We’ll… we’ll speed it up.”

“I will speak to the designer tonight. See how she’s doing. If she knows anything. There’s still no public suspicion of her. Both of you come back home after you’re done at the restaurant.”

“Okay.” Crystal had stepped closer, out onto the little step that granted access to the front door. She was blatantly eavesdropping. Tim remained frozen on the spot. “Thanks for… thanks.” He ended lamely, hanging up. Crystal looked very pale.

“I…” Tim started. How could he convince Stephanie’s mother that all would work out? No words would do the job.

Stephanie interrupted them. Her voice drifting closer as she tripped down the main staircase, blissfully ignorant.

“I went with the dark green. I like green. Dark green.” She paused when two pale faces stared back at her. Tim struggled to reconcile how beautiful she was with the fact that the pair’s mortality was staring them in the face. Tim’s death was always something he accepted as part of his job. Stephanie’s was out of the question.

Her smile tightened; teeth clenched. “What’s wrong?”

Crystal sniffed in a way that indicated she was going to cry, and left the two alone, slamming the door shut on her daughter in a manner that made Stephanie baffled. She turned back to Tim, who seemed to grow more upset by the moment.

“What’s going on?”

Tim absentmindedly tugged on the little cap sleeve of the dress, admiring it on her.

“I’ll tell you on the way.” As Stephanie followed him to the car, she looked back at her house, worried for her mother.

It was a silent drive to the restaurant, this time with the radio off and the engine in general being quiet in the drive through the city. It was awful, tense and uncomfortable. Stephanie watched as Tim’s eyes flittered everywhere, the windows, the mirrors, the road and her. He was panicking a little.

She kept quiet until they approached the restaurant. Then Tim spoke unprompted.

“We’ll have to go back to the manor after this. Bruce called me, says another couple has died. Same designer.”

Slowly, Stephanie turned to look at Tim. He was trying to stay focused, as if pulling up to valet parking involved particularly difficult manoeuvres.

“Three times isn’t a coincidence.” She stated.

“No.” His knuckles were white from gripping the wheel so tightly.

“Those poor people.”

Tim let the air come out of his chest in a woosh whilst Steph stared at her palms resting in her lap. He reached across with one hand and took hers. Intertwining the fingers, she observed his beautiful but scarred hands. Another moment of thoughtful silence ensued.

“You okay to keep going?”

She forced a smile. “Bruce’ll solve it in no time.”

It was only part of the way through their soup did Tim drop his little spoon with a clatter. They had been trying to do small talk, being aggressively cutesy in sight of the other restaurant patrons and staff, but it was difficult, as neither of their moods were particularly lending themselves to lying.

“…Tim?”

He looked at her, pale blue eyes wide from fear. His adams apple bobbed in his thin neck.

“Stephanie.” He said, standing up so quickly his chair fell back, and the table rattled. The crystal champagne glasses shuddered, and the china made an awful clang. Stephanie made an oopf noise and rested her hand over the glasses to prevent spillage.

“Sweetie, what’s wron…” She trailed off as Tim moved to her side of the table and knelt down in front of her. She began to hiss. “No! Now?”

Tim reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out a little black box. “We have to speed it up.”

Stephanie felt she was close to hyperventilating, eyes flitting to the other customers surrounding their central table.

“You should have warned me! Not in public…”

“It had to be.” Tim retorted. He knew how much she hated it. He did also. If he ever did propose, it would be in private, because no-one else mattered for that moment. Only he and the person he proposed to should matter, not faceless people voyeuristically watching them. But neither of them were going to get what they wanted. Not for now at least.

Stephanie did not need to dig for her surprised face, as she burst into tears the moment Tim popped open the box. Sat inside was possibly the largest ring she had ever seen.

It was hideous.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” She screeched, slapping the table. People who were already staring from the proposal dropped their food in their lap at the swearing woman.

Blowing her nose extra hard on the fancy serviette, she tried to bring her emotions back to dignified. However, every time she caught sight of the hunking stones glittering in the dim light, she lost it.

Six dead people were hanging over her head she was stuck in a dress she didn’t buy there were more cutlery pieces on the table than ordered courses and he had dropped this on her with no warning and okay fine she knew in the back of her head it was coming but still –

Tim leaned back slightly, not sure what to make of it, if her shock and rage was directed at him or herself. Heavily hinting at her, he tried to get the proposal back on track and smiled lopsidedly. “That’s a yes, right?”

The bastard…

“Fuck! You stupid shit, fuck!” She caught glances of neighbouring tables and tried to smile, though she couldn’t see much clearly from her stinging eyes. There was no point trying to verbalise that she was insulting herself, not the poor boy on the floor in front of her.

God, her eyes just wouldn’t stop watering and she couldn’t feel any more like the kind of women she made fun of on reality tv shows. “Yes, I will marry you! Yes, yes, yes!”

There was a painfully awkward pause as she didn’t know what to do next. Entering panic mode, Tim punched her leg, making her spasm down off the chair into his arms. He hoped her outburst would be read in an eccentric relatable manner, and not the freak out of a woman who could really do with an acting class or two.

A few tables were clapping politely, probably more miffed than endeared to the couple. Tim rocked Steph from side to side.

“Okay?” He whispered, conscious of the fact that she may have genuinely gone into shock.

“That ring is hideous, Tim.” She blubbered into his ear.

“Well, it’s only for two months.” He muttered, more than a little dejected. God, he hoped – if he got the chance to offer it – that she would like the promise ring more.

“Hoo!” She leaned back from the embrace, head facing the ceiling. Her cat eyeliner look that she had painstakingly applied had flooded down her cheeks. Tim’s collar felt a little wet, and would no doubt be stained black. She smiled in a way that reminded Tim of a hyena. “Oh, wow! What a ring. Oh sweetheart...”

Tim nodded and nodded and nodded like a ventriloquist doll and pulled it out of its case, flinging aside the box with exaggerated disinterest.

“All yours! For as long as you’ll have me.”

She looked down as he slid it on. It weighed heavily on her finger.

She tugged Tim closer to her, bumping their foreheads together. She clung tight to his hair, and he could feel her trembling.

“Fuck.” She whispered.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Steph…”

“Love you.” She said. The suddenness of it seemed to surprise them both, and to cover it up she kissed Tim. Actions were easier than words, they always had been with him.

The reality of what they had undertaken came crashing down on her, and she dreaded the morning to come.

[mfmagazine]

Mountain Con

Article by David Miller

What are your names and what do you do in the group? Swede: My name is Swede and I play guitar, pedal steel, and regular guitar and banjo. Jim: My name is Jim and I’m the singer and I play a nylon gut string guitar. I play harmonica and I write some songs. Ben: My name is Ben and I play keyboards. Mike: My name is Mike and I play drums. Dustin: My name is Dustin. I do all the turntable and sampler work on stage and the ‘jack of all that’s needed that’s not musical. Pierre was in Montana this day and he is the bass player and genius engineer and as Dustin calls him, “the mad scientist.” You all combine music technology with pop song writing. What is the spark that gets a track going for this band? Jim: Well, a lot of times they start as Folk songs. We’re experimenting more with building loops and experimenting more with what might happen accidentally. Usually we start with songs that can be played with and acoustic guitar, lay it down with a click track and build it up from there. For this next record, we’re experimenting a little bit with going the reverse route to mix things up. When do the samples and loops come in? Jim: Our studio and writing process are inseparable, really, but after we get some chords and lyrics we start our insane process that is too complicated to get into. We won’t bore you with all the details today. But after much obsessing we finally get something that we are happy with and we hope other people are happy with too. What’s happening in the world right now that become topics or themes when you write? Swede: God, open the news paper. Watch CNN. Jim: Our lyrical side of things is usually existing in a different universe than the musical side. The musical side is an exploration of sounds, whereas the lyrical side is more personal. Lyrically, I’ve been dealing what I call, ‘conspicuous appropriation’ or a collage aesthetic that coveys a picture of something that’s happening today. When did Mountain Con start and what was the original idea? Jim: Four of us were in a band in Missoula, Montana where all of us except for Dustin are from. It was a more contemporary early nineties guitar driven rock band kind of thing. We moved out to Seattle when we were 18 and thought that within a year we’d be, ya know, big rock stars or whatever. Basically the whole thing just kind of fell apart. But we regrouped here in about 1998 and it gave us the ability to really rethink how we made “Rock Music.” Mike: We also really liked the beat approach to hip hop and the way that felt, so we experimented with taking Bob Dylan songs or rock songs and applying that to say, Public Enemy and basically trying to get that beat stuck into something that doesn’t fit. Jim: Yeah, that got the gears turning. I mean, when we first started out we didn’t even know how to make a loop. Now we can just about have our way with anything that we want. Tell me about the title “Dusty Zero’s, Dirty Ones.” Dustin: That title really puts together the two worlds of folksy rock and digital production, I mean you got the whole binary code thing that is at the heart of digital based production and sampling, and the human element of what all of do instrumentally and what styles we play. With the declining industry sales and the threatening legal strategies being implemented by record label, how do you guys feel is the best way to get your music to the public? Swede: Well, it almost got to the point with our dealings in LA that we fed up and just wanted to put out the last record on the internet. Dustin: We did the whole shopping thing (delivering demo’s of your music to record labels) with the record and it was brutal. I mean, unless you have a huge fan base and a lot of record sales to show on your own, people in the industry aren’t taking any chances. They got enough problems as it is. So we went to all the local record stores and radio stations and we’ve been getting a lot of great support from them. KNDD has been really helpful to us and KEXP as well. But Seattle and Portland are the only real markets that this record has seen. Jim: The only National grasp that record has achieved is over electronic means and the internet. Dustin: We just got on iTunes three weeks ago and that alone took months because we didn’t have a record company backing us and it’s hard to get the attention of these large companies on your own. Give me your top 3 or 4 hip hop production influences. Mike: I’m into the old school East Coast thing. Like Tribe Called Quest, and Public Enemy. Dustin: Erik B and Rakim. Jim: Digable Planets. Mike: Currently, I like Mos Def’s stuff. He’s got some great stuff goin’ on. But definitely not any top 40 stuff, or at least rhythmically to me that stuff is less interesting. Who would be your dream artist to open for or play with? Dustin: Beck! He would be the dream first choice obviously. Jim: The Dust Brothers are huge. Dustin: We’d love to open for the Roots and Interpol. What sets you guys apart from the rest of the crowd? Swede: We get a lot of comments on, the slide (guitar). A lot of people come to our shows and don’t even know what the hell the thing is. Dustin: If someone knows what they’re looking at on stage, they see a slide, an old Hammond organ, keyboards and drums, and tucked in the back is turntables and samplers. We have such a unique set up live that we just stand out by what we bring to the table. You all have a very pop oriented sound. The Stranger here in Seattle even commented that you had a “cookie cutter M-TV” sound. Where does that come from? Jim: I think that comes from growing up in a small town where, the only outside access was the mass media. So, it’s like it’s in our DNA when we want to arrange a song, we instinctively gravitate to the classics. It wasn’t even until we were 18 or so living here that we had any access to alternative music. Sometimes we hear criticism for that, but we can’t help ourselves and we have no interest in making music that we are not. It’s what’s true to us. What social or political elements do you champion in your music? Dustin: We like to combine social consciousness with good grooving’ music. Really we make party music, but one piece we’re proud of is a song that is a mixture of a beat that sounds kind of like something Outcast would do, and we took some lyrical influence from John Lennon’s “Gimmie Some Truth” and made a song that we really resonate with consciously. Also it was made in time for the elections and we felt very strongly about that outcome in that we didn’t want to see four more years of lying and cheating as demonstrated by the current administration. Tell me about the name “Mountain Con.” Jim: Our Grandfathers worked in one of the largest open copper mines in the country in Butte Montana. It was called “Mountain Consolidated” and we felt like it was a nice big powerful name for a band. Our music is a mine. We dig through the sedimentary layers of culture and make modern music, so we’re a mining project in our own right. For a closing thought, I want to go around and ask each of you this same question: If you could go back in time, what musical movement would you like to visit for a weekend? Dustin: I’d probably go back to the Bronx in the early eighties. I, mean, just the musical invention of plugging in two turntables into a light post on the street and creating the greatest musical art form since rock. Mike: Even though it doesn’t necessarily inform my rhythmic influence with this band, I’d like to go back to late ‘70’s London and be around the punk energy as well as the fashion and design movements happening then. Ben: There were a couple of weeks in the early ‘70’s when Pink Floyd rented a room and started jamming on E minor to A, which became “Breath” from Dark Side of the Moon. I would have liked to be around to see that. Jim: Did they have the Lear Jet in ’66? Because I need to bounce around to a few places if I’m only getting a weekend on this on. But there was like a competition between the Beach Boys and the Beatles and Bob Dylan around that time for the most amazing pop album of all time really. It’s like the history of pop music was moving into a gigantic focal point and after which rock music just broke out into a million shards. So, I’d need a Lear Jet to go from LA, to London, and back to Woodstock NY. Swede: I would have to say Hamburg Germany in 1959 with the Beatles playing at the Kaiser Keller and the Star Club back when they were all hopped up on speed and were still a punk rock band.