abrightboy: (happy)
Malcolm Bright ([personal profile] abrightboy) wrote in [community profile] apocalypsehowcomm2022-01-18 12:57 pm

Happy Birthday to Meeerrrrrreeeeeeeeee [Open Mingle]

Who: The residents of ADI Apt B1 and YOU.
When: January 18th, from early evening onward.
Where: Apartment B1 at the ADI complex.
Summary: Tim Drake discovered Meredith Idlewild's birthday is today (by snooping in her stuff) and her boys decided to throw her a little surprise celebration since she, you know, looks after them and shit. Ofc neither of them knows how to do that, really, so Malcolm has recruited Neal Caffrey as Party Planner.
Warnings: To be added as necessary but none to start.


Thanks to Neal's intervention, the party Malcolm and Tim are throwing for Meredith is very nice, with tasteful decorations and good wine, alongside fancy finger foods and even fancier cocktails. Neal mans the 'bar' personally, mixing drinks for anyone who'd like to try one.

Malcolm and Tim will try to be social. It's for Meredith.

They did use Tim's connections, too. He recruited Jeff to slip invites onto people's desks if they work at ADI and take some over to Bonnie's. Meredith deserves maximum appreciation. The invites instructed everyone not to say anything to Meredith. When she comes home, it's meant to surprise her.

Early evening: SURPRISE!
When Meredith gets home, get ready to shout!

Mid-evening
Mix, mingle, eat and drink.

Late-evening
Your hosts will arrange a cab if you can't make it home; they already have a police lieutenant sleeping on their couch and tonight has been a lot of peopling for them. If they need to carry you down there... they're more capable of it than their slight frames would suggest.
ployboy: <user name=eyecons> (Default)

cw drugs/addiction

[personal profile] ployboy 2022-01-24 10:19 pm (UTC)(link)
One of these days he might just ask if Jeff does that on purpose- inflate his ego for no damn good reason. The dawning realization of the preparation of beloved food aside, it's that lingering gaze and curling smile that has Tim fighting down a squirm, and powerless to hold back a blushing and shy, "Shut up, man."

This is the worst, Tim decides. Trapped between butterflies in his stomach and hangdog remorse.

"Have I have told you about my superpower?" He asks, light but firm. It could be witless banter with the way he reaches for Jeff's half-eaten spring roll now that he's gone wolfed down his own.

He doesn't know how Dick did it, how he would ever have the tough talks with Roy when the man was shooting up. It must be different somehow, than talking down kids on the streets with track marks down their arms-- but feeling good and warm, in the cold Gotham nights.

It's only a beat later and Tim doesn't hide his concern. "You know you're not leaving here until you sober up, right?"