After fleeing Paris, leaving her only friend but gladly, all of her enemies, she moves to Gotham and stays with a close family relative. She then goes to Gotham academy and she meets two certain Wayne's. The good one, and the mean one. The girl is m...
Y'all, this is a TIMINETTE STORY! NOT a Daminette story. Like seriously, so many people give up on reading the story cause they realize it's a Timinette story. SO you know, NOW YOU KNOW! Anyways, It's also pretty obvious from the story description, but people seem to not read the damn thing. Anyways, that's it.
This may not be so good because I don't really know how to start stories.
Dick, 19 Jason, 18 Tim, 17 Damian, 16 Marinette, 16 Bruce, old enough to be alive Alfred, unknown Others, not important
I abandoned Paris and fled to Gotham. I couldn't take it anymore. And neither could my friend. I've already been through enough only to have more. I walked indoors only to see the house empty.
Typical
Uncle Felix was probably still at work or something. And school was tomorrow. My first day actually. I grabbed a pencil and pulled out my sketchbook. I decided to go out into the park since it was still day time.
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(THEMEMEMARE) THIS is their house.
I locked the door to the lovely house and walked towards the park. So many buildings giving me inspiration for just about anything. Not really what I experienced as a kid. But it was good now.
I found an empty bench and decided to take a seat. Unoccupied, solitary, and beautiful surroundings. Just perfect.
A few hours later
I decided I wanted some lunch and there was no food at home. There is never food unless my uncle makes something. And that is only when he's home. So I entered a small cafe.
It looked friendly which was a bigger plus for me. I walked up to the cash register and the man asked.
"What would you like today, young ma'am" ? He smiled and I smiled back.
I pulled out a small notebook and wrote down what I wanted. He looked at me like I was insane for not speaking but writing it down, so I clarified that I just couldn't speak.
He quickly nodded his head in I understatement and went to get my slice of chocolate cake with a glass of milk.
I took a seat in a far away booth facing a window and I pulled out my sketchbook once again. This cafe itself was inspiring. It was the only thing this dark street had to offer. Which meant, I could make an all night dark dress with light features. It was bound to be great. Or as my stepfather would tell me.
The man returned with my glass of milk and slice of cake and gently set it down by my side. He looked kind. His natural hair color looked to be black, but the tips were a light blue color. It all fit him well.
