#((goes back into hiding in her media cave))

[masterskywalkers]

I understand where OP is coming from but the movies named are not the appropriate examples to use for this argument.

Dune parts one and two look incredible mainly because of two things: practical effects and shooting on location. Add these two golden gems of any filmmaking along with Villeneuve's own unique style and the care and respect he has for the medium, you're more or less guaranteed gold. Dune has the potential right now to stand alongside other movie standouts like the original Star Wars trilogy and Lord of the Rings for being timeless works of art and instant classics (which is long deserved for Dune because my god, it has deserved an onscreen adaption like this for decades). There are aspects of Dune that remind me of shots in Lawrence of Arabia in that of their grandeur and I am so thankful and glad we're seeing examples of passionate cinema again (Dune and Godzilla Minus One: I love you both dearly).

While Disney has fallen off track (especially with some of their live-action adaptions - like I do not want to even think about the up-and-coming Snow White adaption and neither does Bob Iger, apparently. Pushed back for 2025 and apparently it might not even make cinemas now - what even is the point?) - it is unfair to talk about the effects used in films like Marvel when it has already been made painfully clear that the visual effects team are pressured and forced to crunch their work. The way these movies work is not down to these effects artists but to the management demands. Plus using special effects for a whole movie like Antman: Quantamania is expensive. I want to say 80% of them are effects and eh, you can tell the focus was more on that than the story. The real debate here - and what movies like Dune prove - is how much of a balance should there be in a movie of practical vs. special effects (personally, I've always thought practical looks better and has more longevity).

Now Mission Impossible is another bad example because a) Dead Reckoning was a good movie that was released at a bad time (literally right before Barbenheimer - Tom Cruise literally argued about this with cinemas as so many IMAX ones were showing Barbie or Oppenheimer on multiple screens but MI could barely get one screen in some cinemas) and b) Mission Impossible had to jump through so many hurdles as it began filming pre-pandemic, halted filming for lockdown, then continued filming as soon as they received the green light to do so under covid regulations (we all remember the Tom Cruise clip that went viral of him arguing with some of his team about them not taking the covid precautions seriously and how it would negatively affect all of them when they should be taking care whilst working hard to finish their product so it can go into cinemas once they were open and profitable again).

I actually weirdly know someone who worked on Mission Impossible - there is a period where I remember seeing the work that had been done on the train crash scene while they were working on it and damn, was it impressive the work the team put into it! - so yeah, I can understand where the budget went for them considering their filming went on for so much longer than they intended or expected.

A lot of the time a film looks fantastic not because of the budget but because of the artistic style of the director. There are so many movies that are released on a low budget that are visually stunning - money isn't everything in this industry - as much as these studios would have you believe - and you can create beautiful works of art with minimal cost. But cinema isn't cheap: practical effects aren't cheap, and special effects aren't cheap. Shooting on location isn't cheap (and can cost more depending on the location, which is why now they've developed screen technology to mimic some locations for cheaper and easier use). Paying your workforce and actors isn't cheap - especially not when they're then told not to work due to a global pandemic, but you're still paying them. Yeah, some films are ridiculously expensive for, seemingly, no good reason. But I would say there are more examples in Hollywood of questionable spending than these two movie examples OP has presented.

But yeah, everyone go watch Dune because those movies are made for the cinema experience and look incredible. There is no doubt that these movies will likely be a blueprint in design for other future movies inspired by these works, and I damn hope it inspires more people to go into the movie industry and make art they're passionate about. Dune is made with a real love for the story by all of the crew - especially Villeneuve and Zimmer - and it shows.

Its wild that Dune part 2 was like $190 million or something and looks phenomenal, and while thats still a lot of money, these marvel/sony/ Disney flops cost $350+millions?!??! It has to be money laundering like it HAS to be. Where is that money going?? Mission impossible cost $567million. Antman cost $450 and looks as drab and washed out and forgettable as every other marvel movie. Like?!??

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

happy 6k!! its well deserved! can i ask for secret relationship with Aaron Hotchner (if it hasn’t been requested yet) ♡︎

.⋆｡Serendipity｡⋆.

Aaron Hotchner x plus size reader

Something’s wrong with you, a subtle change taking place over months that your profiler co-workers haven’t noticed but one Penelope Garcia has

Warnings: secret relationship, fluff, Garcia snooping, mention of condoms/smut WC: 1.6k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Penelope was worried about you, to say the least. You had always been a bit of an introvert, preferring to stay home with your hobbies and books rather than go out to a bar with the rest of the team but over the last month, you had been far more reclusive than normal. She may not have been a profiler but she could see the way you hid your phone, the turtlenecks and scarves that now seemed to be a staple of your wardrobe, and most damning of all, the fact that you had avoided Girl’s Night.

And Penelope was going to get to the bottom of it.

“I need your help. Now.” She jammed her pen onto the end call button of her desk phone before the person on the other end of the line could answer. Her eyes were glued to the monitor in front of her, your social media page laid out across the screen. She had gone through every like, every comment, every follower and nothing seemed blatantly out of place but she knew she was missing something.

“C’mon baby, I know you’re somewhere in there.”

The door to her cave slammed open, revealing a slightly sweaty and very out of breath Dr Reid. “What! What is it? What’s wrong?”

Penelope spun her chair around and in a squeaky voice responded. “I don’t know!” Spencer’s distressed expression faded, however, as soon as he saw what she had been looking at in the first place. His eyebrows furrowed and he stepped into the room, the blue light of her monitors reflecting off his glasses. 

“Garcia, are those bank statements?” 

“Two days ago, Y/N went to the pharmacist at 10 pm. 10! Who goes to the pharmacy that late unless they’re hiding something.” Penelope gestured wildly at the list.

“Or we just got back from a case and she had to refill a prescription?” She scoffed and waved him off.

“Our copay isn’t that good. I only know one thing someone buys for $15 at a pharmacy after 8.” Spencer gave her a puzzled look, “Condoms Dr Reid! Condoms!” 

Red bloomed across his cheeks but Penelope continued. “And then I noticed something else, Y/N hasn’t been to a gas station in almost 6 months. Or at least if she has, she hasn’t been paying for gas. So, tell me what that means.” 

“Someone has been buying gas for her.” Spencer leaned forward, his hands now planted on the only empty spot on her desk. 

“Or…” She prompted.

“Someone’s been driving her around.” His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose.

“Which means…” Penelope gently pressed them back up his face as the realisation dawned upon the genius.

“She has a secret boyfriend.”

——————

“Are we positive that this is a good idea?” Spencer shoved his hands into his suit pants pocket as he nervously looked around the empty hallway. Penelope huffed as she moved the bags of takeout over to her left hand, the numerous bracelets on her wrist jingling.

“Look, either she comes clean and gives us all the details about this mystery beau or we get a nice night in with one of our best friends in the world.” She firmly knocked on the door, stopping any further protest from Spencer. 

There was a few seconds of quiet, then a scuffle behind the door. They looked at each other before the lock clicked and your face was between the crack. “Penelope?”

Spencer leaned over so his head was above Garcia’s. Your eyes met his, your frown deepening. “And Spencer. What are you guys doing here?”

Penelope shot a look over her shoulder that screamed ‘I told you so’ before she held up the brown paper bags and gave you a megawatt smile. “There’s a Doctor Who marathon on TV tonight so I thought we could surprise you since it’s been forever since we’ve hung out!” 

“I’m not exactly dressed for company. Do you think you could give me a minute?” You glanced at something in your apartment, giving Penelope the opportunity to poke Spencer in the arm.

“Do you think we could come inside to wait, it’s a bit chilly out here.” You sighed. The door opened slowly, revealing your state of half-undress, wearing only a shirt that definitely wasn’t yours and that did nothing to cover the discolouration around your neck that suspiciously looked like hickies. Sweat dotted your hairline, your chest heaved, and the soft, sensual music playing from your speaker was everything that they needed to know.

Penelope’s squeal of victory was swiftly cut off by a man’s arm wrapping around your wide hips and tugging you back from the door, away from their sight. “It seems we’ve been had.” A deep voice rumbled.

“No way.” They were frozen to the spot, left staring at the empty doorway.

“Well, come on in then. Whatever you brought smells good.” Spencer was the first one to move, stumbling over his own feet as he entered the apartment. Penelope followed, a slightly dazed look on her face.

When she finally regained her composure, you had disappeared into the bedroom, leaving one Aaron Hotchner standing in your living room, dressed far more casually than they had ever seen him before, a sly smile on his lips. He took the bags of take out from her and carefully placed them on the coffee table. 

He was relaxed, incredibly so. His body language open, his eyes even sparkled when you walked back out of your room, now more dressed than before. Spencer’s brain ticked over as he watched the way your fingers brushed Aaron’s arm, recalling every moment he could where your interactions had been anything more than platonic in the years you had worked for the BAU. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Penelope sounded genuinely heartbroken, which made you break away from Aaron and wrap her up in your arms.

“We wanted to keep it private at first, just to see where it went.”

“And Stauss wouldn’t exactly approve.” Aaron added as he started pulling out the food containers.

“A relationship between the chief of a unit and his subordinate isn’t exactly against any FBI rules but it is frowned upon. Not to mention the over 10 year age gap between the two of you might’ve raised eyebrows.” Spencer perked up, earning a scowl from said older man.

“Yes that too.” He cleared his throat. Your giggle was muffled by Penelope’s hair. She turned around in your embrace to give Aaron a dirty look yet remained clinging to you.

“You’ve stolen her from us, keeping her all to yourself all the time.” Her grip on you tightened. “And buying condoms! Who are you to defile this perfect being.” 

Aaron had the audacity to look a little bashful at that, though you caught the flash of a prideful grin before he quickly hid it behind his usual frown. “She is my girlfriend. But, I suppose I have been selfish.”

Spencer had disappeared into your kitchen to look for some plates, but he soon called out to you. “What utensils do you want me to use? There are far too many in this drawer.” You rolled your eyes and pried yourself from Penelope, now leaving her alone with your boyfriend.

Her firm expression didn’t waver. “You love her?”

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation.

“Are you going to ask her to marry you?” Aaron’s brown eyes darted to the kitchen and once he confirmed that you weren’t standing within earshot, he muttered.

“It’s early but yes.”

“You need my approval.” She crossed her arms over her chest but Aaron could clearly see the way she was fighting a smile. 

“Of course.” He nodded, popping open a container of dumplings and stealing one. 

“Good.” She plopped down onto your couch, evidently all her questions answered, and took the box from him. 

“Is that all?”

Her nose scrunched up. “Don’t get ahead of yourself Hotchner, you aren’t off the hook yet. I’m telling everyone you’ve both been lying to us for months.” 

“As long as it stays in the BAU.” You piped up, your hands now full of various forks and knives, Spencer trailing after you with plates in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “We don’t need to kick up a HR investigation just yet.”

“We’ll vouch for you both if it comes to that.” Spencer sat on the edge of the recliner so he could still reach the coffee table. You glided by Aaron, your shoulder purposefully brushing against his as you passed. Penelope patted the couch cushion beside her.

You grabbed the remote control and obeyed her hint, settling into the soft material with a sigh. 

“Now go, it’s our turn to get her.” Aaron just rolled his eyes playfully and kissed your forehead gently.

“Have fun you three, I’ll stay out of your hair.” You melted into his touch for just a moment before he pulled himself away to gather his things that he left on his your bedside table. “Although it’s been a while since I’ve spent the night by myself.” He teased.

That earned him a scoff from Garcia. “Go!” He raised his hands in defeat and left the three of you to the pile of food and your show. You accepted the offered plate from Spencer, it was silent save for the low voices from the TV and Aaron’s movements around your bedroom. 

Penelope had a pleased smile on her face, pride filling her chest. She had out-profiled a team of profilers before they had even realised something was off. And she had gotten an evening with you and Spencer through her genius. She pressed the side of her thigh against yours as you poured out some wine for each of them.

You grinned at her before you suddenly froze, a thought occurring to you.

“Pen… how did you know I had been buying condoms?”

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 23

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I sprained my ankle.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

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I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The king shifts you off of him, lifting you with him as he stands. The tension is rigid in his grip. He steadies your bodies and helps you over the edge of the tub. Another pounding sounds at the door and his name arises again. 

King Geralt follows, splashing water on the floor in his expediency. He takes a bath sheet from the wardrobe and wraps it around you, not saying a word. Your heart races as you let him move you. You’re paralysed with the embarrassment of that moment. You’re about to be caught out in a perilous position. 

He urges you towards the bed and points you onto it. You hug the sheet around you and sit near the pillows. He pulls shut the canopy around you, blocking out the room behind the drapings. You sink down, horrified. He’s hiding you. As thankful as you are for his discretion it only reminds you of your own guilt. 

He coughs and his feet slap around. You hear another rustle of linen and your ears prick as he goes to the door. He inches it open with a creak, “Vesemir,” he greets flatly. 

“Ah, the king lives,” the gritty voice is more familiar without the barrier of the wood, “ah, and look at him, in his respite, enjoying the hot waters as his wife runs amok in my castle.” 

“Wife?” Geralt repeats grimly, “what is your meaning?” 

“Do you mean to keep my out in the corridors of my own home?” The man demands and slaps the door. “Boy--” 

“Eh,” the king grunts, “mind yourself.” 

“Don’t play proper with me,” the man scoffs and the door groans, letting him in. You can see shadows through the small slot between the curtains. You shy away, hoping whoever it is won’t look back. 

“Vesemir,” the king repeats, confirming the identity, “what is my wife about?” 

“Won’t you come see?” The man challenges, “her and her soldiers are raiding my cellar. I allowed one bottle and now I will be drunk dry. I serve the kingdom but I did not swear myself to spoiled summer welps.” 

“Mm,” the king growls as he moves beyond your sight, not that you can see very much through the narrow space. “I’ll tend to her--” 

“Certainly, you will or I will march her out with my ax.” 

“You needn’t go so far,” the king girds with a sigh as you hear the stiffness of leather. 

“When you marched south, I didn’t think it would soften you,” Vesemir rebukes, “you hide in a tower, soaking in steam.” 

“It has been a long road. We won’t be long here and I thought to wash,” King Geralt sneers defensively. “Even bears like you need a good scrubbing. You more than any, I think.” 

Silence. Tense and roiling. You crawl forward to get a better view of the room. You put your eye to the slat between the curtains and nearly squeak as the older man booms with laughter and claps the younger’s bare shoulder. 

“Aye, I probably do smell like the caves,” he rumbles. “And you always did smell like a horse, Geralt.” 

The king mutters again as he pulls a tunic over his head, the wet tails of his hair leaving speckles of water across the wool. You blink as the other man shifts and you see his profile clear. You know the man. It is the cook. Rather, not a cook at all but Vesemir, the lord of the castle. You're caught in surprise, staring through at him. 

As if drawn by your gaze, he glances over and you quickly retreat from the curtain, hoping you were not spotted. His tongue makes a noise against the roof of his mouth and he huffs. His sole scuffs as the king’s laces whip against his boots. 

“Geralt,” Vesemir intones with disappointment. 

Silence and another heavy breath. You don’t know from which man. The chair scrapes as the king stands. 

“It isn’t to mind,” King Geralt insists, “I will fetch my queen and put her back in her chamber.” 

Vesemir growls, “I do wonder why she might act so, with such a loving husband.” 

“Enough. It isn’t your concern.” 

“Not as yet, but the king’s business is everyone’s concern. Especially of those who marched on his behalf for a summer’s kingdom and a summer’s queen.” 

“You did not march,” the king rebuffs. 

“Eh, do not,” Vesemir warns, “I do not lecture, I warn you. You are a king now, mm, not a boy playing at tourney knight.” 

“I am aware,” King Geralt snips, “tell me what you are aware of, hiding away in your vultures’ pit. These winter lords wanted home to their families, so I made it so. I agreed to marry that... traitor’s daughter and what have I got for it but a headache? You need not make my skull pound any harder, Vesemir.” 

“Oh yes, your father was no fan of politics either. Nor did he play them well. Perhaps you might take another lesson after him,” Vesemir rebukes, “that turncloak’s daughter will not be any more amenable should she learn of her husband’s follies.” 

“She cannot see past her own nose,” Geralt straps his sword over his back. 

“You are hard to miss,” Vesemir insists. 

“Let us go to the cellar, I tire of your reproach.” 

“Ever obstinate, my liege,” the lords tuts and shakes his head, turning for the door. 

You angle to watch them go, the door shutting heavily in their stead. You let out a breath and hug your legs to your chest. You look up at the canopy and the looming bed frame. And so it begins, you sit, trapped by the king’s deceit. 

⚔️

After some time, you dare to step beyond the canopy. You dress and sit at the table; the chamber growing still as the water cools and stagnates. The fire crackles to embers but you’re too fraught to think to feed it. You stare at the door. The longer you wait, the more your doubt threatens to consume you. 

There is no dial or no sunlight to gauge how long but it is longer than you anticipate. You grow restless and rise, pacing as you twist your palms against each other. Is it the queen the keeps the king? Or something more dire? 

When at last you hear movement on the stairs, you can’t help but hide against the wall. The footsteps hammer up and the door bursts open from the other side. At first, you fear the worst. Perhaps your mind has made it all a bit too extravagant but in a manner, you long for it to end, one way or the other. 

King Geralt storms in like a gust of wind and snow. The wood snaps against stone as he blusters across the floor and kicks a chair. It cracks against the table and the armrest splinters. You curl your fingers into your apron and sway.  

The king grabs the edge of the table and overturns it, sending the books and plates atop it to the floor. He circles like a rabid wolf, stomping and seething, growling as his anger simmers up his throat. He stops as if struck and goes to the bed, tearing back the canopy. His chest puffs as his brow furrows. 

“Treasure...” he breathes. 

You shudder, “your highness.” 

He turns and sees you, his shoulders easing. He closes his eyes and his jaw locks. He pushes his hands over his hair as he calms himself. He opens his eyes against and drops his arms. 

“Did I frighten you? I didn’t mean to,” he slowly comes closer, “you know I could never harm you.” 

“Yes, your highness, I only meant to be out of the way,” you utter. “Something is amiss?” 

“Mmm,” he hums through his nose, “that is a way to say it.” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs rubbing your knuckles, “my wife has not been a very gracious guest. Lord Vesemir’s hospitality quickly wanes. The storm won’t be much longer before we can depart...” he doesn’t look happy for the fact, “and we would be best to do so quickly.” 

“Is that not good? Aren’t you happy to go home?” You ask. 

His expression softens, “little maid, of course. I cannot wait to show you it all but... I hoped we might have some more time before that. The road is not easy.” He exhales and raises your hands, kissing each, “I must let you go for now. I have acted hastily and there are still matters to attend to. The war I started still roils in the air.” He shakes his head, “I have foes to harry as yet.” 

You blink, “what do you mean?” 

“Never you worry,” he lowers your hands, “I’ve only one mission for you, little maid.” 

“Yes, your highness.” 

“You will return to the queen’s service, yes? You will tend to her as you always have but you will watch and you will listen. Every lord, every lady, ever single vermin that keeps her company, I want to know of,” he sneers.  

“Your highness? Why--” 

“Do not ask why. I require it, that is all you need to know. For our safety, you must do this,” he clings to you, “treasure, I know you are a loyal creature, it is what first drew me to you, but that woman you serve wouldn’t know loyalty if it crept up her skirts.” He lets you go hesitantly, “she is still a traitor’s daughter.” 

Your lip trembles and you quickly still it. He is asking you to play spy. On Jazlene. On your queen. His very own wife. But why? She is foolish, she is a drunkard, but she is harmless. 

“You swore yourself to your duty, didn’t you?” He arches a brow. “The king comes above all. Regardless of house, of master, you serve me.” 

“I will serve as I swore,” you grit out, injured by his tone. 

That same day he was gentle and now he is steely and demanding. He toys with you. He only means to use you in whatever way the moment calls for. It is not grand revelation but no less painful. 

“Do not be sombre, treasure, in due time,” he rasps. He backs away and puts his back to you, “go, before I let my heart get the best of me. Should you stay longer, I might never let you leave.” 

“Your highness,” you bow and walk to the door. 

“The knight awaits you. He will take you to the queen.” 

“Thank you,” you stand in the doorway. 

“Wait,” he calls to you and follows after. You turn to find him with cloak in hand, “you will need this.” 

You look down at the cloak. You take it without protest. Even if it is tainted, he isn’t wrong. You will face the cold soon enough and you wouldn’t fare long in your wool and linen. You thank him and he sees you through the open door, closing it as you descend. 

As you come to the bottom, you find a shadow awaiting you. It isn’t Bryce. The figure is broader and his white hair shines in the torch light. You step off the bottom step and bend your neck. 

“My lord,” you greet the castle lord. 

“Maid,” he returns dully, “so it is the little dove that coos as the king.” 

You keep your head down, turning it away in shame as you purse your lips. It is your first lesson in judgment but not an easy one. 

“I didn’t expect you so much as you didn’t expect me. Sir Bryce has allowed me your time but he warned me he would be back,” he explains. “I only wanted the measure of the king’s fancy. I’ve known him a very long time so it is curious to me that he has put himself in such a... circumstance.” 

“My lord,” you whisper, throat crackling. 

“Hmmm,” he gives a thoughtful hum. You languish in his silence as he looms in the flicker of lanterns. He pushes away from the wall and steps closer. “You are not offended, but guilty. There is no presumption in you, dove. You do not take insult from what I say, you only take on the onus of the king’s desire.”  

He leans in and brings his hand under your chin, forcing your head up. He looks at you, examining you like some riddle. His wrinkles deepen as the shadows make caverns of his eye sockets. 

“I see it clear,” he remarks as he pulls his hand away. “I remember the dove who treated cook no lesser than lord,” he stands straight and crosses his arms, “I see no difference between her and you. Yes, I was not mistaken before, but I believe our king is. He does not know you though he believes he does.” 

“My lord, I serve the king.” 

“You serve your queen,” he counters, “you are of the summer, just like her. So how do you choose?” 

You stare at him and your eyes sting. Can you choose? 

“It doesn’t matter which one, either would clip your wings,” he lets out a gray breath. “Dove, I will keep your peace. I hold no malice for you, no, I pity you.” He puts his hand to his chest, “while you are under my roof, you will have whatever you need. I will have that soldier find you a proper chamber. For yourself, and should you want, you will have the pick of my pantry. What little delights you might have, I would enjoy them while you can.” 

“Thank you, my Lord, but that is very much for a maid.” 

He touches your cap, his fingers lingering on the linen, “summer dove... I told you these winds were too cold for you.” 

“I must go to the queen,” you plead. 

“Yes, go,” he backs away, “I will send your soldier to you.” His lips go crooked as his eyes narrow thoughtfully, “I’ve known Sir Bryce a very long time. That man alone is the best army you could have at your back.” 

“He is kind, sir,” you say. 

“Is he now?” Lord Vesemir scoffs, “well, maybe one day, I might remember him as such. Do not let me keep you from your duty.” 

He stays by the wall and you step around him. You don’t look back as you march forward, the cryptic conversation follows you through the corridors. There was something unsaid in his voice, as if he knew something you don’t. One might take it as him making a joke of you, but you don’t see that man laughing over such grave matters. 

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Pairing: Elrond x Fem. Reader (second person POV)

Themes: Soft | Smut

Warnings: Kissing | Penetrative sex | Public sex | Sex in an unusual location | Cream pie

Word count: 1.7k words

Summary: Elrond goes in search of his companion, and is greeted with a ball of snow instead.

Rating: 🔥🔥| Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

Divider by @estrelinha-s

Snow lay thick on the ground by the time Elrond and his warriors returned from the borders of Rivendell.

“Lindir!” He called out to his steward after he dismounted and gave over the reins of his horse to another elf. “Where has y/n gone off to this morning?”

Lindir, after having seen his lord and his men some distance away, left for the courtyard to wait for them. He bowed and offered Elrond a traditional welcome and said, “Lady y/n left for the woods just beyond the guest lodgings not long ago. You may find her by the pond, I think.”

“My thanks.” Elrond turned over his sword and gloves to Lindir and walked down the same paths you did. It was cold, but not unpleasantly so. His boots left little to no imprint on the snow, and the brazing winter air itself was invigorating. It carried with it the faint redolence of spruce and fir and pine. He sighed in contentment and turned to take a glimpse of his home. All of Rivendell looked different, like an enchanted keep in a wintery land.

“Melleth?” He cried and looked around. Of snow-covered trees and bushes, there were aplenty, but you were nowhere to be seen. “Where are you?”

Nothing but the wind answered him. “Melleth?” He shouted again. “What mischief are you up to now?”

A white ball flying in a perfect arc and exploding in a spray of snow and ice after hitting him on the back was all the answer he needed. Elrond smiled, and dusted the snow off of his cloak. Then another ball flew in from the same direction and hit him on the head with a soft thud. He turned to face the direction it came from, and crouched just as a third projectile came hurtling toward him.

Orcs are not the only things determined to test my patience. Elrond sighed, then smiled to himself and made his way down another path, resolute to catch you in the act.

There was nothing to be heard after that. No calls for you, no shouts, and no commands for you to show yourself. Elrond made no sound as he moved, and that put you on edge. He could be anywhere, and you would not know of his presence until he was right before you.

A hushed silence fell over the little copse you concealed yourself in. There were no animals moving about in the brush; they were sleeping in their little dens and caves for the whole of the winter. A bird sang, but there was no other sound beyond its sweet singing. Minutes passed, and still there was no sign of Elrond.

Where is he? You thought to yourself. Had Elrond returned to the main house and the Hall of Fire? Had he ridden out with his warriors again? Or was he out there, somewhere, biding his time until you revealed yourself?

Time drifted by as if in a dream. It grew colder and a little darker. And Elrond was nowhere to be seen. Thinking that he had returned to the halls, you left your hiding place behind an old oak tree and departed for home.

“And where do you think you are going?”

“Elrond!” You squealed, startled. Elrond had been right beside your little hiding place the entire time, waiting for you to appear. The smile that flashed across his face was smug and self-satisfied. “How did you know I was here?”

He tapped the side of his nose with his finger and said, “It was your fragrance that gave you away, meleth.”

You sniffed at your wrists and your hair. There was no scent to be found on your skin or your dress. “But I am wearing no perfume,” you said in protest.

“Twas not a perfume I smelled,” he smiled again. “It was the scent of you that gave you away.”

You flushed and looked away. Elrond laughed softly. “There is nothing to be ashamed of. Truly. I quite like the way you smell. Although,” he went on to add, “I do think it is highly unbecoming for the Lady of Imladris to throw balls of snow at unsuspecting elves.”

“Perhaps,” you muttered. Then you turned to face him, your eyes bright with curiosity. “You said you liked the way I smell. What else do you like about me?”

It was Elrond’s turn to flush, and not from embarrassment. “I see,” he commented. “You wish to know more about what I find desirable in you. Let me think. I quite enjoy your ability to find pleasure even in the simplest of things.”

“Such as throwing balls of snow at you?”

“Do not test me on that, melleth.”

“My pardons.”

He grinned, and walked toward you. “I also love seeing you like this: your cheeks all flushed from the cold, your hair all in a beautiful tangle, and this cloak is quite fetching on you. A pity it conceals so much. Or have I simply been away for too long, and anything appears alluring to me now?”

“Elrond!” You gasped in disbelief. Pale blue eyes lit up in amusement.

“I jest, melleth,” he said, coming even closer. “You are ravishing as always. Now, where was I?”

“You were speaking of my cloak,” you told him. Heat slowly bloomed in your cheeks when he reached out and undid the clasps of your cloak. “And how it concealed too much.”

“Indeed.” Skillful fingers unfastened each clasp one by one. The shock of cold air dancing over exposed skin left you tingling. Elrond delighted in this, for he had been away for far too long. He had missed watching such sensations flow through your body, and he found himself yearning to savor all of it again, here and now, even though the two of you were in the woods, and not within the privacy of your shared chambers.

“I relish watching you tremble beneath me,” he began, and drew your cloak away. “How you shiver when I run the flat of my hand over your belly. And your hair… I love how it flows around my fingers when I loosen your braids.”

He reached back and slowly loosened one braid, and another, and another. Your hair soon fell around your shoulders. Elrond was not done. His hand did indeed glide up your waist and onto your belly. It made you feel warm and feverish. You shuddered beneath him when that same hand pushed you back—back until he had you caged between him and the bark of a tree.

“We are out in the open,” you pointed out to him. “Someone could come upon us.”

“They will not,” Elrond assured you. “And we need not tarry needlessly. I have missed you, melleth. Let me have a taste of you, at least.”

He dipped his head and kissed the shell of your ear and the expanse of your throat. His arms slipped around your waist when yours twined around his neck.

“Just a taste?” Your blood was already roaring in your ears. Elrond lifted his gaze. His eyes were clouded with lust. “Or more than that?”

“More than that,” he echoed, “if possible. And like I said, we need not tarry needlessly.”

“I never took you for one who loves quickly,” you remarked. “But I do not mind this being the first instance you do so.”

His eyes gleamed wickedly. “Wonderful. Close your eyes, melleth. I will see to the rest.”

Elrond did indeed tend to it all, and so much more besides. His kisses drowned out your sighs and the soft moans that followed in their wake. He slipped an arm beneath your thighs and lifted you up, growling in your ear when he felt your legs wrap tight around his hips. He nearly crushed you to his armor when he kissed and kissed and kissed, and yet you barely felt the steel press against silk and bone and flesh. All your thoughts were consumed by him, by the strength in his arms and his back, and by the hot and sinful mouth that hammered away at any sense of restraint you had. 

“Elrond,” you sighed. Your hand slipped over his chest and down his belly, and beneath the silks underneath his armor. It was a trial, loosening the thin strips of cloth around his breeches, but you managed all the same. When you reached in and took him to hand, he nipped your throat.

“I see you are more than keen on me loving you quickly.” There was a sharp rip. Elrond removed his hand just long enough to move it between your thighs and tear at your small clothes. He touched you briefly, groaning against your neck when he found you already wet.

Elrond’s touch was as electrifying as his kisses. However, he did not continue with his ministrations for long. Another hunger rose to claim him, one that demanded to be satisfied. Elrond pressed his lips against yours, moaning in triumph when you guided his erection into the soft and welcomed grip of your body.

“I love this as well,” he gasped. “How you make me feel when you take me inside of you. Am I going too fast?”

“Given that we are exposed,” you countered and tightened your grip against his waist, his broad shoulders. “I would say you are not going fast enough.”

Elrond did not need to be told anything else. He set a tortuous pace, his armor now nearly cutting into your dress, while you clung to him like a burr. The discomfort of it all soon gave way to a bliss that slowly grew in your belly and spread until you saw nothing but a brilliant golden light flashing behind your eyes. Elrond shook when you sobbed against his shoulder and cried out his name. It was enough to unravel him, and with one last grunt, he spilled his seed inside of you.

Neither of you moved, even when an icy wind swept around the trees. Elrond continued to kiss you, this time with soft, quick kisses around your brow.

“We best return,” he said slowly, and more than a little reluctantly. He was shaking. His body was still caught in the aftermath of his release. “Lest Lindir or someone else comes in search of me. And the next time you wish to start a snowball fight, warn me first. I will be ready for you then.”

tags: @victoria-styles

[macsimagines]

izana, shinichiro and draken hanging out with their darling but then she needs to go to the bathroom or smth and accidentally leaves her phone unlocked near him 🫢🫢

Creep, creep, creepin'

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, CREEPY AND TOXIC BEHAVIOR, GASLIGHTING

Yandere!Izana Kurokawa

Whether or not you left your phone unlocked won't matter because he already knows your password. He made you give it to him the day you got it.

"Quit being a brat. I'm your boyfriend, you shouldn't be afraid to give me your password. What? Are you hiding something?" So after a huge fight that ended with you being gaslit you ended up relenting.

Now he just takes your phone and goes through it. You end up loosing a lot of friends because he just deletes and blocks people without telling you.

"Why do you care so much? You don't need anyone else but me."

Yandere!Shinichiro Sano

Has been dying to get his hands on your phone for months. You're so guarded about it. Always fiddling or smiling down at your screen. It has him feeling so insecure.

"What if she's texting some other guy? What if they're in love and she's planning on leaving me? Is she thinking about him when we're together?"

When you left it unattended and unlocked he snatched it so quick, only a small piece of him feeling weird about it at first but then quickly felt so shitty.

Your screen saver had been a picture of you two together, your whole camera roll was photos of him, and the whole time you've been smiling and looking at your screen was because you've been spamming your friends group chat with photos of him.

[Look at my BF ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ isn't he the cutest!!!!???] [bitch if you don't get his fuckin' face outta the group chat-]

Feels very guilty for being a creep, almost feels sorry for your friends. Almost.

Yandere!Ken Ryuguji (AKA Draken)

Also a douchebag that demanded your password. Not at first, but eventually got sick and tired of you looking at the screen instead of him.

"Seriously!? Are you gonna give me yours!?" "Hell no. I ain't the one always lookin' away Y/N." Basically turns it on you and demands you show him your texts but you never cave in.

When you leave it unlocked its an open invitation. He's checking your texts and photos, he's on your social media blocking people he doesn't know or doesn't like left and right.

Then when you walk back and ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing he just throws it back at you like you did something wrong.

"The hell are all these guys doin' in your DMs, Y/N? You wanna fuck around and play games like I didn't know you were up to somethin' shady?" "I don't even message them back! I always block creeps!" "Oh ya? Postin' a lot of skanky pictures, Sure you don't like the attention?"

You two fight HARD in public, its honestly embarrassing. Good luck trying to break up with him over it though, he's not letting you go no where.

[blancheludis]

Whumptober Day 6: Not Realizing They're Injured, "It's not my blood", unhealthy coping mechanisms

Fandom: Batman Character: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson Tags: Hidden Injury, Hurt Tim, Hurt Bruce, Bruce Tries To Be A Good Parent

Summary:

There is no easier way to tell that a recon mission has gone wrong than the air being suddenly filled with shouting and gunshots. Batman goes down and Tim gets him home. It is only later that he realizes he has been shot himself. But Bruce is unconscious and Alfred has his hands full. He cannot be a burden to them, he'll just deal with it himself.

There is no easier way to tell that a recon mission has gone wrong than the air being suddenly filled with shouting and gunshots. A stray bullet whips barely a foot past Tim's face where he is hiding in the rafters of the manufacturing hall where the weapons deal was supposed to go off. Well, he is pretty sure the deal is off.

Just a second later, a dark blur drops amidst the thugs on the ground. Tim sighs to himself as he joins the fight. So much for a signal, but Bruce is currently not talking to him, nothing beyond the most necessary orders.

I need you to assist me on patrol, not to chatter my ear off, he had growled before putting Tim through an endless training session as if he thought he needed to drive home the point with more than words. And Tim can admit, it was a stupid idea to try and talk Batman - or Bruce - out of his bad mood, but the anniversary of Jason's death is coming closer and Batman seemed to be slipping again. 

A sulking Batman definitely makes Robin's job harder, considering he dropped without warning into a firefight and Robin is wearing the clothing equivalent of a warning flag. His skills are definitely not advanced enough to storm right into the fray. Well, time to make some chaos from the sidelines.

---

Not for the first time in his brief stint as Robin, Tim is absolutely grateful for the advanced piece of technology that is the Batmobile. Without the car actively coming towards them and then being able to drive them home without much of an input from Tim, he never would have gotten the massive, unconscious form of Batman back to the cave. Well, not while also trying to keep as much of his blood on the inside as he possibly can.

Alfred is waiting for them, already getting out any medical supplies they could need. When they arrive, he rushes towards them, coming to Batman's side within a heartbeat.

"Dr. Thompson is already on her way," Tim reports as he helps to get Batman on the stretcher before going right back to putting pressure on the wounds. "Two bullet wounds that I saw happening. One in the lower abdomen, one in the upper right thigh."

Alfred nods but does not quite manage to look unmoved. He looks at Batman's unmoving form and, instead of immediately pushing the stretcher towards the back of the cave, he takes precious time to look at Tim, too.

"And you?"

Tim waves dismissively but catches sight of his sleeve - and then the rest of his clothes. Much of it is stained red with glistening, half-dried blood. Somehow, he did not expect there to be so much of it. Yes, he just spent half an hour trying to keep Batman from bleeding out, but the black body armour hides the crimson much better than his own colourful clothes. And his hands - now that he has noticed, he can barely rip his eyes away from all the reddish-brown sticking to his bare skin.

"It's not my blood," Tim says, desperate to find some equilibrium again. When Alfred frowns at him, clearly displeased, irritation shoots through Tim like lighting leaving his nerve endings raw and buzzing. "I didn't go on a killing spree, Alfred. It's Batman's."

"That's not -" Alfred starts but is interrupted by the arrival of Leslie Thompson and they both snap back to attention.

The next hours go by in a blur, following Dr. Thompson's orders, cutting away body armour, ripping open supplies, lending hands when she needs them. Tim is at once horrified and absolutely fascinated by her work. Not once does she hesitate as she cuts Bruce open, searching for the bullet and internal damage, and then sews him back up again.

When they are done with the abdomen, Tim notices he is shaking. Even before patrol started, he was exhausted. The adrenaline crash does not help, surely. As Dr. Thompson switches to Bruce's leg, Tim excuses himself for a moment to get something to drink. Something full of caffeine and sugar. It would help nobody if he passed out now. There is still work to be done.

---

Later, Dr. Thompson washes her hands, their working space suspiciously clean, as if their work has not been bloody.

"This is all I can do for now," she says. Then, with resignation in her voice, she adds, "I guess I cannot convince you to let me take him to an actual hospital."

Alfred shakes his head, although he looks just as unhappy about the state of things as she does. "Just tell me what I need to do and when to call you."

Tim lets their conversation wash over him as he peels the surgical coat off him and looks in dismay at the state of his Robin costume. Alfred's concern earlier was clearly warranted. The blood has not magically disappeared over the past hours, and it really is a lot.

With a last glance at Bruce's still form, Tim ducks away to get a much-needed shower. His entire body hurts and all he wants is to sleep for three days straight, but he knows that is not going to happen. Alfred cannot keep watch over Bruce all by himself, and Tim just knows he will not take any breaks if Tim does not force him to and take his place for a while. He also has reports to write and information about this latest disaster has to get to Gordon. No, sleep is not in Tim's near future.

The clothing sticks to his skin and he contemplates just hopping under the shower as he is, but he just does not want to deal with the mess, so he just grits his teeth and pulls it off. Sharp pain shoots through his arm and shoulder as he slips out of the left sleeve and when he reaches out to rub it away, his fingers come away bloody. With fresh blood, not this brown mess that has had hours to dry on him. Sticky and crimson and warm.

He turns to the mirror. There, in the outer part of his upper left arm is a small wound oozing a sluggish river of blood. As he turns, he finds a mirrored, if somewhat angrier wound on the back.

Oh.

When, exactly, did he get shot? True, things were pure chaos for a while and Tim suffered some hits, especially in the panic of getting to Batman after seeing him be hit twice. Still, he would like to think that he should have noticed getting shot. The evidence to the contrary stares him right in the face, but it still leaves him reeling. Perhaps Alfred is right that he should get more rest, stop every once in a while to check in with himself. But who has time for that?

Moving his arm turns out to be a bad idea as the pain quickly explodes, making his vision turn several shades darker. Tim tries to blink it away, but he is sure that, when he fully comes back to himself, a few minutes have passed, because he is suddenly kneeling on the cold tiles, half slumped against the wall. Thankfully with the uninjured arm.

Briefly, he thinks about going back out to call for Dr. Thompson. He is already back to his feet when he stops. He has an entry and exit wound in a somewhat straight line. That means the bullet is not inside him anymore but went straight through. It is hardly bleeding anymore; the skin is likely only upset by his peeling off his clothes. He can move the arm, ignoring the pain. Sensibility is as it should be right down to his fingers. Dr. Thompson must be tired and Alfred has his hands full with Bruce.

No, Tim decides. He is not going to act like a child and make a burden of himself. First, he will take that shower and clean himself up as good as he can. Then, he will find some bandages, and later, he will search for how to make an unobtrusive sling for his arm. Dr. Thompson would likely not do much more herself. And it is not like Tim will have to go back on patrol, tomorrow. Bruce will be out of commission for a while, so Tim can rest his arm while manning the computers in the cave. And, surely, Bruce's leg and abdomen will keep him longer away from training as Tim's arm will.

Yes, perfect plan.

Step one of the plan is excruciating. Now that he knows the arm is wounded, the pain does not go away. It is a dull throbbing with an underlying, constant burning, accompanied by sharp lances whenever he moves. Funny, what adrenaline can do, that he has only noticed the wound now. Too bad he cannot jump right back into a firefight to keep the adrenaline level high. It does not matter. Along with the bandages, Tim finds some painkillers and swallows two pills dry. They have the good stuff somewhere in the cave, but his night is not yet over and he needs to be alert. Bruce will go through every word of his report, and he will not be happy if there are any mistakes.

---

When Tim comes back out of the bathroom, Dr. Thompson is gone and Alfred is sitting by Bruce's bedside. The cave is not the most comfortable place, but Tim guesses they will only move Bruce upstairs once he is more stable. Once the possibility of them needing the more heavy-duty medical equipment is not as high anymore.

"Master Tim," Alfred greets, looking a decade older than when they left on patrol earlier this night. Someone should really give this man a medal for all he puts up with. Or at least a cushy retirement plan. "Are you all right?"

Tim takes excruciating care to walk as normal as possible, no trace of pain of tiredness in his steps. "I'm fine," he says, easily. The lying part of any plan always comes easiest to him. "You should go get some sleep."

If anything, Alfred looks even unhappier. "I'm quite all right where I am. You, however -"

Cutting him off with a shake of his head, Tim insists, "I mean it, Alfred. I still have a report to write, so I'll be down here anyway. There's no need for both of us to be tired tomorrow."

As if either of them could sleep restfully. But there is a slight chance that Bruce will be awake and aware the next day, so Tim would prefer to skip the day shift.

"Surely the report can wait," Alfred protests softly, lacking real conviction.

Tim tries to shrug but aborts the motion immediately as a spike of hot white pain courses through him.

"You know the rules," he says and hopes Alfred will think that is the reason for his grimace instead of him being stupid and hiding a bullet wound beneath his Superman shirt.

And he is not lying. Bruce insists on reports being written right away so that the memory is still fresh. Heaven forbid some small detail gets lost because of basic necessities like sleep.

"Well, since Master Bruce is -" Alfred hesitates, briefly closing his eyes, then continues as if nothing happened, "- asleep, I think it's in my authority to send you to bed. Your room should be ready."

Funny. Any other night, Tim would smile at that, truly. As if Bruce's rules are not in place anymore just because he caught a few bullets. As if there would not be words, later, if Bruce found out Tim overstepped his welcome and slept in the Manor without good reason. Being tired is not a good reason. He has a home a mile down the road. If Alfred needs another human being to keep an eye on Bruce, then Tim should be down here, doing his work, and not lazing about upstairs.

Alfred knows that, though. Should know that. And Tim is not in the mood to rehash it.

"Alfred," Tim says as he pulls a second chair closer to Bruce's bed. Then, instead of sitting down, he starts the computer in the corner of the room. Of course, every room has its own work station. The work is never done. "With only the two of us, we'll be stretched thin as it is."

As Alfred's frown deepens, Tim silently curses himself for his bluntness. 

"I can call in Master Dick."

Dick will just love this. Of course, he will come. He is as much of a dutiful idiot as the rest of them. But there will be questions and hidden accusations. Oh, he would never say it out loud, but Tim can already see him wondering what good the new Robin is if Batman gets hurt like this. Not that Tim's mission is to keep Batman from hurting himself - which would be a nice bonus if, well, it worked. No, Tim is here to keep Batman from becoming what he set out to fight, and that, at least, is going well. To Tim's knowledge, none of the thugs they encountered over the past two months had to be brought to the ICU. None of them died, later, either.

"It's still just the two of us tonight," Tim says, as if he has no feelings whatsoever about possibly having to deal with Dick. "My night's already ruined. I won't be able to sleep. Adrenaline, you know." As if Tim would not give anything to lie down in a bed right now and not get up for a week straight. But his bed is quite a distance away, and he is really not sure his arm will like lying down. "So, go to bed. I'll sleep in the morning."

"Master Tim, you are -"

"Fine," Tim interrupts, briefly considering that he should stop being so rude. But he really, really wants to be alone right now. Remaining upright and pretending he is not in pain is quickly draining him of his remaining energy. "I'm fine." 

Also, nothing Alfred could say to end his sentence would make anything better. Tim is what? A child? True, but only a convenient excuse when they want to forbid him something that is not going out into Gotham at night in a costume, fighting crime. Under Alfred's care? Wrong. If anything, he is here as an independent contractor. If Bruce had his way, Tim would have no contact whatsoever with Alfred. Tired? Boy, aren't they all?

"Bruce is heavily sedated and Dr. Thompson said it was unlikely he would wake tonight. So, all I'll be doing is write my report and watch over a sleeping man. Tomorrow will be much more demanding." Deciding a little manipulation has never done any harm, Tim adds, "I'm not sure I'll be up for tomorrow. I'm awake now, but -"

As expected, Alfred's face softens. Under different circumstances, Tim would have felt bad about it, but he needs to get his work done, go home, build himself a sling and then rest far away from people who can sniff out weakness.

"All right." Alfred sighs and, finally, looks back at Bruce. "But you will wake me immediately if you need me."

"Of course." As if Tim would ever risk Bruce's well-being. That would throw away months of sleepless nights, countless bruises and constant re-evaluation of his own worth.

"I mean it." Alfred stands up and fixes Tim with a stern look. "Not just if something with Master Bruce changes."

Tim would rather choke and die an undignified death in his sleep than putting more of a strain on Alfred, who will have his hands more than full with an injured Bruce. "I promise," he lies, easily.

"Until the morning, then."

Alfred still lingers in the door, clearly reluctant to leave, but Tim tries not to take it personally. After having taken care of Bruce for decades, it makes sense that he will not relinquish his duties easily to a tired, reckless teenager neither of them knows very well beyond his obvious superior life choices of deciding to traipse after a vigilante at night before he even finished school.

Tim waves him goodbye and almost yells out because, of course, he used his left hand. Well, at least he knows how he is going to keep himself awake if he has to. Pain is a very good motivator.

---

Tim is right. The pain does keep him awake, although it is a near thing, especially since he does not dare empty their entire stash of energy drinks lest he calls Alfred's wrath down on him. He also does not take care of his sling yet, either. Too many cameras around. And Tim decidedly does not trust Bruce with his search history.

---

In the morning, Alfred appears down in the cave much earlier than he probably should, but Tim is grateful enough that he will not mention it. He updates Alfred on Bruce's condition - unchanged, stable - and reassures him, once again, that he is fine - lie.

Then, refusing a cup of coffee for perhaps the first time in his life, he says, "If you won't need me, I'll go home to catch some sleep. I'll be back tonight."

The frown has taken permanent residence on Alfred's face by now, so Tim is unfazed. "There's really no need to leave, Master Tim. Your room is ready for you."

An involuntary shudder runs through Tim He has stayed here a few times when something went wrong during patrol and Alfred insisted they would need to observe him. Every time, though, Bruce got that pinched look of his that meant he is displeased but will not speak out against Alfred. Tim will not stay without Bruce's permission, and there is absolutely no reason for Alfred to overrule him.

Smiling, he shakes his head. "Thanks, Alfred. I'll be back at eight. Call me, if you need me earlier."

Alfred's look of disapproval is not any easier to stomach, but the consequences here are more of an emotional nature. And Tim has plenty of practice with disappointing people.

---

Bruce wakes up two days later and stays that way instead of the dozen or so half-conscious, panic-fuelled wake-ups he has until that point. It is bad timing, really, because Alfred is upstairs preparing lunch, so Tim is alone down here. He jumps up from the desk and checks the heart monitor, even though no alarms are going off.

Unfocused eyes blink at Tim, at the IV lines and cables, at the room, before Bruce slowly comes back to himself, shrugging off injury and exhaustion like it is nothing.

Unsurprisingly, the first word out of his mouth is, "Report."

Of course. Near-death experiences and emergency surgery are not enough to take Batman out of Bruce Wayne.

First off, Tim hands Bruce a cup with water. That croak sounds painful. Then, however, he sits up straight.

"The report is written and filed," he says, most important things first. "I took the liberty of informing Commissioner Gordon about what happened. Four of Black Mask's people are in custody and three of the other group, which is as of yet unidentified. Most of the weapon crates were secured."

Here, he pauses, because Bruce expectedly digs in. "Most?" he demands, somehow even more unreadable now with bruises in his face and one step away from unconsciousness. Is he displeased or angry? Does he even have the capacity for complex emotions right now?

Tim, too, can stay professional. "The unknown group started shooting and got some crates away in the mayhem." That is not his fault. Not even Batman can make it so.

Bruce coughs and only takes another sip after Tim nudges the cup closer to him. "Any leads?"

If not for the etiquette training his parents insisted on, Tim would gape at Bruce. Instead, he quickly clears his throat.

"None, as of yet." 

He was too busy carrying Bruce home so he could get emergency surgery for his two gunshot wounds. And then Tim needed to sleep for twelve hours straight because of his own gunshot wound, the resulting blood loss and sheer exhaustion. He could have easily slept longer, but someone had to make sure that Alfred would get some rest, too. So, no, he does not have any leads.

He does not say any of that. Because, of course, Bruce would demand results. Officially, only one of them got shot, and while Bruce was out of commission, Tim had all the time in the world to work on the case. And Tim is not here to complain. He made a deal with Bruce that he could tag along as Robin as long as he was helpful. Slacking off, wounded or not, is not part of that deal.

Pushing any misgivings he might have away, Tim continues his report, keeping his tone neutral. "You were shot twice. In the lower abdomen and in the upper right thigh. Dr. Thompsom got the bullets out and said no inner organs were damaged. She is scheduled to come by this afternoon but has also left a treatment plan and list of recommendations."

Bruce hums and shifts in the bed, likely to test how his body feels. When he looks back at Tim, his gaze is heavy, loaded with something Tim cannot quite grasp. "You got me out?"

"Yes." He very deliberately keeps his chin up when he admits, "Loss of blood was not optimal. Dr. Thompson gave you four bags of blood."

He did the calculations. There are several ways he could have been faster, some of them riskier. Then again, he did get shot anyway, so maybe riskier would have been better. Later, he guesses, he will go through them with Bruce and they will iron out the flaws.

"And you?" Bruce asks, still with that iron focus.

Tim stares, not sure he understands. He obviously got out, too. Slowly, he says, "Alfred will kill me if I let you look over the report right now, but it's all there." He has done his work.

"No," Bruce says, immediately making Tim sit up straighter. "Are you all right?"

Tim stills. That is not part of the deal either. 

"I'm fine," he says nonetheless. By now, it has become some kind of mantra. "But I should really call Alfred. He's been worried."

---

"Tim, do I need to take a look at your shoulder?" Dr. Thompson asks after she checks up on Bruce. "You've been favouring it."

The world comes to a sudden, screeching stop. Yet, Tim forces himself to frown and look at his shoulder, rolling it for good measure, careful not to hiss at the pain.

"This? No, thanks, Dr. Thompson. I think I just slept wrong." At her raised eyebrow, he adds, sheepishly. "I fell asleep at my desk."

He is a good liar, and Bruce's heavy gaze on his back as he flees means nothing.

---

It is Dick, who ruins everything. Dick, who avoids the Manor like the plague and, if he comes, only does so to yell at Bruce. Dick, who prefers to pretend Tim does not exist and, if they have to interact, is absolutely awkward, caught between wanting to be kind to a kid and being angry at already having a replacement little brother he never wanted in the first place.

With everybody else, Dick is a hugger. With Tim, he usually just waves awkwardly and leaves it at that. This time, Tim is on his way to leave when Dick comes into Bruce's room. He does wave but, at the last moment, pats Tim on the shoulder. The wrong shoulder. The shoulder in too close proximity to the bullet wound. Tim shouts, half in surprise, half in pain. Maybe more in pain. Dick freezes right where he stands, hand still half-raised in the air. Everybody stares.

Tim looks back, goes to duck his head and then thinks better of it. "Guess that pulled muscle is still not quite right," Tim tries weakly, perfectly aware that he is all but curling around his wounded arm.

Everybody is still staring, so he straightens - and definitely does not grimace in pain again.

Full of fake cheer, he nods at Dick. "Hello to you, too, Dick. I'll leave you to it."

He makes it all of half a step before he is stopped.

"Tim." That is Batman's voice and clearly an order.

Tim contemplates running. Bruce is not going to come after him. Dick could, but he still looks stunned. He could have a chance. But the very reason he hid his injury in the first place, is because he wants to be able to come back here. Defying a direct order is the simplest way to ruin that.

"It's not that bad," he tries to explain, painfully aware that he is not quite pulling up a calm tone. "Just a scratch. Dick just took me by surprise."

None of them believe him. He does not understand why. Since he has been allowed through the Manor's doors, he has made a point of being absolutely fine and as unobtrusive as possible. Nobody can accuse him of being a problem, a liar. He stays out of their way enough for that. If he says there is nothing to worry about, that should be it. Yet, Alfred is already coming towards him with a determined expression.

"Let's have a look, Master Tim."

Tim takes a step back. "No need, Alfred. I have -"

"Tim."

Great, so he is not going to get out of this one. He sighs, makes a show of it to make sure they realize they are blowing this out of proportion. "How about I'll talk to Dr. Thompson when she comes by later?"

"How about we look at you now?" Dick chimes in, because having a disapproving Batman and a disappointed Alfred ganging up on Tim is not enough. "What happened?"

Irritation rises in Tim's chest like the impossible to kill monster it is. "I basically carried Batman out of a firefight and to the Batmobile." Even while he is talking, Tim is not sure why he is only making things worse for himself. The gig is up. Dr. Thompson will not keep silent about him having a bullet wound. And that is if they even let him be alone with her.

And then what? He gets benched. Maybe he gets fired. Nobody needs a lying Robin. Nobody needs a useless Robin either, but getting caught lying probably weighs more at the moment.

This is not going to work.

"All right," he says and raises his hands, not hiding the wince as that pulls at his wound. "I got shot."

Silence.

"I must have misheard you, Master Tim." Alfred's voice is deadly calm and even Bruce glances nervously at him. This is not an Alfred that will be denied anything. This is not an Alfred that can be placated. "You were what?"

"Shot," Tim repeats through clenched teeth instead of insisting he is fine. "The bullet went straight through. There are no problems with either mobility or sensitivity. No signs of infection."

Only when Bruce blinks at him does Tim notice he has fallen into his usual cadence for reporting to Batman. Well, he feels like he is standing in front of a tribunal, so not much difference.

"Out," Alfred orders. "Now."

Nobody dares to argue.

---

It goes like this: Dr. Thompson is called in again, ahead of schedule. She clicks her tongue at Tim and conducts a thorough examination. Her bandage and her sling look much more professional than Tim's. She tells Alfred Tim is not to take off that sling until she gives them permission.

Alfred decrees Tim will stay in the Manor until further notice, but relents and promises that Dick will accompany Tim home so he can pack some things. Which leads to Dick asking some very pointed questions about Tim's parents and when, exactly, they are expected to return from their business trip.

Bruce calls Tim to his bedside and starts their conversation with, "Hiding injuries is unacceptable." Which makes Tim want to laugh. But then Bruce adds, "I can't take you out into the field if I can't trust you."

And that just pushes Tim into a panic attack - which he only finds out later is a panic attack when he comes back to himself in a dark wing of the Manor he has never been in before with Dick sitting next to him, alternating between telling him some fantastical stories from his circus times and instructing him how to breathe. Thanks a lot, but Tim has been breathing fine on his own for quite a number of years now. It still helps.

Bruce, later, tells him that he has no intention of taking Robin away from him. That helps, too.

He guesses, there will be more talking, later. For now, he wears his sling in plain sight and, when Alfred locks him out of the cave, hacks Batman's system and still gets some work done until Bruce, who is just sour that he, too is not allowed to work, tells him to stop.

It works out better than Tim could have hoped.

---

Bruce ambushes him days later after lunch, when Tim is full and sleepy and does not expect anything bad. As it is, he watches warily as Bruce comes into the living room and sits down across from him, his expression sombre. It does not help that he should definitely not walk around much. But where Tim has been a model patient ever since he was found out, Bruce is a bit harder to bully. He probably only gets away with it, because Alfred's attention has to be split between the two of them.

"Why did you not tell anyone you were injured?" Bruce asks by way of greeting.

In response, Tim flinches. He did not expect small talk about the weather, but it is something else to dive right into the deep end without warning.

"I had it handled," he says mulishly. People keep telling him how dangerous it was, but he is well aware that it is in his best interest to stay in top physical condition. He would not jeopardize that. What good would he be to anyone then? "Alfred had enough on his hands with you. I was fine."

All other inhabitants of the Manor seem to have developed a sudden allergy against the word fine. Whenever Tim uses it - which is often because he is fine - he has to deal with winces and pursed lips and studying stares. 

"What if something had happened while you were at home and nobody would have noticed?" Bruce keeps going, all reasonable and calm, asking instead of telling, which is a new thing altogether.

"Nothing was going to happen." Tim has had some variation of this conversation a dozen times already with Alfred and Dick, so it is not hard not to snap at Bruce, even though he still does not understand what the big deal is. His parents have expected him to take care of himself and his needs since forever. This time, he was nowhere near his limits. "And we had a schedule. I'm punctual. Alfred would have known immediately."

Bruce's jaw tense briefly. "At which point you could have already been unconscious for hours."

Now, Tim does have to put effort into not rolling his eyes. "I rewrapped the wound daily. I took antibiotics. Why would I fall unconscious?" As if he would not recognize signs of infection.

"Tim," Bruce says and sighs, not disapproving as much as tired. That, somehow is worse.  "We don't want anything to happen to you."

They want him in working order because he bullied his way into their lives and that means he should not be more trouble than he is worth. Tim has always understood that and thought they acted on the same terms. It is hard to reconcile this version of Bruce with the one from a few weeks ago who pushed him so hard during training that he sometimes thought he could not make the way back to Drake Manor. He is not sure what happened. Or if he necessarily likes it. He never set out to be a replacement for Jason. Batman was slipping and Tim felt in a position to stop it. Batman was still needed. Tim, however, not so much. At least not in any important, far-reaching matter. His parents surely would have something to say if he got himself killed and they invested lots of time and money into him without getting anything in return.

Tim shakes his head slightly to clear his thoughts. "And I'm fine," he repeats, pinching his thigh to see whether he might just be caught in some recurring nightmare.

They are silent for a while, in which Bruce looks at him but also through him. It is a disconcerting experience.

"Have you ever hidden an injury before?" Bruce then asks, his voice low and halting. His face looks drawn, years older than he is. 

That is kind of a broad question. What kind of severity are they talking here? And only since Tim became Robin or ever?

"I've never been shot before," he says cautiously. It is the truth. He has been shot at plenty, but this is the first time he was not fast enough to get out of the way.

Bruce closes his eyes. Which, in Batman speak, is the equivalent of jumping up and down, screaming.

"I realize I've been harsh with you, and I want to apologize for that," he then says. The words take a long moment to register in Tim's brain, punching the air out of his lungs in the process. "I've wanted to keep you a safe distance away because - well, because maybe then it wouldn't hurt if something happened. But -" Bruce shrugs, not dismissive but uncomfortable, apologetic. "You're a good kid, Tim. A good Robin and a good kid."

Tim's throat is dry. He does not know what is happening. Well, it is probably good that Bruce thinks he is doing a good job, but all of this sounds somewhat final, like something is going to end, and there really is only one thing that could possibly be.

"I don't want to stop being Robin," he blurts out, rising half out of his seat. Heat burns at the back of his eyes, but he is not going to cry. He is not a child.

"I won't stop you," Bruce says, which is not the same thing as You can stay Robin or even I want you. "We just need to redefine our partnership."

Oh. Tim sinks back into his seat, out of breath as if he just ran all the way to Drake Manor and back. That does not sound too bad. At least, Tim does not think he is being thrown out. He can be better. He can -

"Tim." Bruce's voice cuts through Tim's racing thoughts. "We want you here and that has nothing to do with what you can do for us or how good you're at being Robin."

Sure, Tim thinks, that sounds totally legit.

But then Bruce gets up and comes towards him, limping only a little bit as he sinks down on the couch next to Tim. Slowly, and mindful of the sling, he pulls Tim into his arms.

"I have not given you many reasons to believe me," he says, all warm and rumbling and welcoming. "But I'll try to do better. Just give me a chance."

[heyclickadee]

For the Star Wars ask game: 🏅📷👩🏻‍🔧

Hallo! And thank you for the ask!

🥇(What was the first piece of Star Wars media you interacted with): The Empire Strikes Back, when I was probably a little too young for it. I was maybe four and the things I remember most distinctly were: the “one last time” voice over paired with the pod launching shot from ANH during the previews on the tape (we had the pre-special edition OT on VHS); and then, from the actual movie, being kind of freaked out and very confused by the cave scene on Dagobah. My parents watched Star Wars all the time while I was growing up. I never really had a chance 😂

📸 (what is one of your favorite Star Wars movie moments): Oooohhhhhh there’s a lot of them, but if I had to pick one, probably that moment during the throne room sequence in RoTJ where Vader goes, “If you will not turn to the dark side, then perhaps she will,” about Leia, and Luke just loses it. Comes out of his hiding plays, starts wailing on Vader. Just, the music the emotional intensity, the way the soundtrack and the sounds of the lightsabers clashing cross fades into the Emperor cackling and Luke realizing that he’s playing right into his hands. RoTJ can be a little messy but that whole sequence is great.

👩🏻‍🔧 (Who would you be in the Star Wars universe?): I feel like I’d occupy the same niche as Pelli Moto.

Kinda cranky, plain, uncool, weird, middle-aged (I’m not middle aged yet but I feel like it sometimes) lady who doesn’t play a big role in anything and exists to be a bit of a nudge and/or side-eye Din about his parenting skills. Also her coveralls look comfy.

[batb1tch]

I fucking missed his birthday but here’s a belated list of Bruce Wayne headcanons no one asked for 🫡

He’s a walking thesaurus

Begrudgingly takes the time to do general maintenance on the kids vehicles but they know it’s how he shows fatherly love

Genuinely disgruntled/confused by social media culture & language

— “Duke, what does -squints at iPhone screen- thotiana mean?”

“……im not qualified for this”

History buff. Loves the history channel & discovery channel. gets hurt on patrol & just vegges for 8+ hrs. when the painkillers kick in he starts scrutinizing & correcting the narrators. Loudly criticizes naked & afraid. Whole fam finds him unbearable (jay is the same way tho)

Enjoys rlly spicy food. Like shit that should be inedible. Prob from years of inhaling toxic gases & fumes. as embarrassing as it may be he doesn’t have much of a palette anymore. Only way to find out if something’s poisonous is the consistency/density & how it sits on his tongue.

— “clark, dare me to eat this pepper?”

“we’re literally on a different planet that thing could kill you bruce”

“I’ll take my chances”

—turns purple or something—

Total geek on vacations or nature walks, points out every creature it’s Greek name, genus, the whole shebang. Loves fossils and seashells can tell you time period of rocks & what type they are. Same with trees.

100% would blow shit up in the bat cave for “scientific research purposes”

— “it’s for the greater good Alfred”

“even the bottle rockets sir?”

“Especially the bottle rockets”

Really fucking hates the cold. Broken bones & scars ache like a bitch in rainy/snowy cold weather.

Hates taking medicine/cough syrup like a giant baby. Alfred has resorted to hiding pills & sedatives in all kinds of creative ways. Stephanie is surprisingly good at baking them into her “special” cupcakes.

wears those horrible Hawaiian shirts and slacks every time the fam goes on vacation. Looks like a walking pattern violation.

as opposite of a morning person as you could get. drinks his coffee black & cant function until he’s finished at least a cup. The longer he sleeps the longer it takes him to recover when he gets up. Pours orange juice into his cereal & that kind of shit. Most of the kids know better & leave him alone to his morning paper but Steph knows it’s the best time to get what she wants so she’ll hassle him relentlessly at the breakfast table. Morning stubble always makes a cameo

Fucking terrible at most video games. The WORST at 1st person shooters. Does enjoy racing & building games (& Skyrim for some reason)

Really good at crossword puzzles & fills them out in the newspaper when he gets the chance.

Truly is the turtleneck king (you lose a lot of heat in the neck)

Has horrible handwriting for someone who grew up with a top tier education. Drives his secretary nuts.

Has like 5 cellphones, very plug of him. nobody understands how he manages to keep track of everything. the one he uses as bruce to contact the kids is an 02 NOKIA that’s probably been to the moon and back (literally)

Very affectionate towards Alfred the cat it’s definitely that ‘dad who vehemently denies the pet/doesn’t want it & then becomes inseparable with it’ type of relationship. He may or may not sneak him friskies much to Damian’s chagrin.

—*tsk* “he’ll become obese father its irresponsible of you”

“ill feed this cat until he has to roll through my house thanks”

Has one of those fancy watches with like 1000 functions thanks to tim. It’s bulky and black looks like some sort of military electronic.

His kids call him inspector gadget.

Wears blankets around his shoulders like the cape/cowl when he’s sick.

Most certainly keeps track of and studies the colony in the cave. The kids have a theory that he has trackers and mics attached to the bats for snooping purposes. (He doesn’t but he’s not telling them that)

Has a collection of crazy socks, ties, and cuff links (mostly from tim & steph) that he wears to work when he’s feeling worn out. They are all hideous and Alfred tells him so but just a glance at some putrid yellow cotton & he already feels better.

Enjoys going to classic car shows with the kids and Alfred. everyone has an opinion if he’s made a new purchase, he pouts if the consensus is bad

Singe-handedly funded the 24/7 food truck services/entrepreneur program for the entirety of Gotham after getting his ass kicked by killer croc one night & by the grace of god & the pity of a concerned man running a taco truck was given the best meal he’s ever tasted in his life. Jay was very on board when he heard about it & actually the entire team is pretty grateful to be able to grab something delicious on the go all hours of the night

Likes to swim and going to the beach in general. One of his favorite things to do with Clark is deep sea fishing — dad shorts baseball cap and socks with sandals kind of fishing.

Contrary to his stony persona, the mans a crier. Cries when he’s sad, cries when he’s happy, cries when he yawns, cries when he laughs, cries when he’s sick, etc. etc. Sometimes tears come out when he’s upside down, he’s just got very active tear ducts 😪

Definitely has a photo of every kid in his wallet, most of them are blurry and cropped weird cause he cut them out himself but all of them are of the kids smiling or laughing. He looks at them all the time to the point that they’re worn down and faded different colors.

Has severe manic & depressive episodes. PTSD as well.

He’s ambidextrous but primarily left handed

[papillon82fluttersby]

Famous Five Art Nostalgia #16 – Part 3

Introductory post

Masterpost

🛩️🦋🐷 Five Go to Billycock Hill – Le Club des Cinq et les papillons

Original publication date: 1957 (UK), 1962 (France)

(Cover art by Jean Sidobre, 1983)

Plot summary (adapted from Wikipedia):

The Five are camping on Billycock Hill, near the farm of Toby Thomas, a boy who goes to the same school as Julian and Dick and loves jokes and pranks. The Five meet Toby’s parents, who are very welcoming, as well as his little brother Benny, who never goes anywhere without his pet pigling Curly.

(Holiday planning!)

(Off to Billycock Hill)

(Five meet Toby’s adorable little brother, Benny – Timmy seems very intrigued by the little boy’s pet pigling, Curly 🐷)

(Poor little Benny is often the recipient to Toby’s practical jokes and pranks!)

(On the way to find a nice camping place up Billycock Hill – Timmy’s heading the way along with Toby’s collie Binky [Clairon])

Toby is delighted with his visitors and wastes no time showing them around, such as leading them to a lovely pool where they can enjoy a refreshing swim, although they soon get told off by an Air Force officer for trespassing on military property. They also meet the eccentric Mr Gringle, one of the owners of a nearby butterfly farm, who gives them a visit.

(Meet Mr Gringle)

(Toby delights in practical jokes, in this case scaring the girls with a fake spider 🕷️)

(Toby brings the Five to a lovely pool, ignoring the “DANGER – KEEP OUT” sign in front of it… what could go wrong?)

Back to Billycock Farm, the Five meet Toby’s cousin Jeffrey, a flight-lieutenant at the neighbouring airfield.

(A zoological interlude: “Tea was now ready and they all drew up their chairs. Benny wandered in with his pigling 🐷 under his arm, and set it down in the cat’s basket, where it stayed quite peacefully, falling asleep and making tiny, grunting snores. / ‘Does the cat 😺 mind?’ asked George, astonished, looking at the basket. / ‘Not a bit,’ said Mrs Thomas. ‘It had to put up with two goslings 🪿🪿last year in its basket – and something the year before…’ / ‘A lamb 🐑,’ said Toby. / ‘Oh yes – and old Tabby – that’s the cat 🐈– didn’t seem to worry at all,’ said Mrs Thomas, pouring out creamy milk for everyone, even Cousin Jeff. ‘I once found her curled up round the goslings one morning, purring loudly.’”)

A big storm occurs that night, and the campers’ evening gets disturbed, first when they see Mr Gringle’s associate Mr Brent roaming the area, supposedly looking for moths, and then when Timmy puts up a fuss at seemingly nothing, before they all hear the sound of an aeroplane flying away.

(A stormy night...)

(... really stormy!)

The weather is still rainy in the morning, so the Five decide to go visit a local tourist spot: Billycock Caves. At some point during their visit, they hear some horrible whistling noises that scare them away.

When they hear from the radio that Toby's cousin Jeff and a fellow pilot, Ray Wells, are reported to have defected and stolen the newest aeroplanes that were being developed at the airfield, the Five and Toby are shocked. The media later reports that Jeff and Ray crashed their planes and drowned at sea. Toby refuses to believe that Jeff was a spy.

(The military police interrogate Mrs Janes, who works as a servant at the butterfly farm)

After poking around and talking to Mr Gringle, the children realise that the so-called “Mr Brent” whom they saw during the stormy night was an impostor, and that something fishy is going on at the butterfly farm. That night, Julian, Dick and Toby do some snooping around there.

(Investigators deep in discussion…)

(Julian and Dick on a mission)

(Julian espies Mrs Janes’ son at the farm)

They learn from Mrs Janes, the house servant, that her layabout son Will has been hiding four men who have been watching the airfield day and night. The Five bring this information to Toby’s father, who gets in touch with the police, and it is confirmed that the two pilots who died were spies, but that Jeff and Ray are prisoners at an unknown location.

(Five on their way to Billycock Farm to bring news about their investigations)

As the Five attempt to comfort Toby while helping around at the farm, they realise that little Benny and his pigling have disappeared. They search for the missing pair all around the farm, and finally find Benny next to the entrance to Billycock Caves, upset that the pigling “runned away” inside the caves.

The pigling does find his way back to the farm on his own later on, with a message leading the children to find Jeff and Ray imprisoned in Billycock Caves. The prisoners are rescued and all ends well!

(Heroes of the day!)

~~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

[originaltyphoonkryptonite]

Chapter 4: The Doctor Needs A Doctor

Dick pov

I was walking towards Zell's store with my brothers. They wanted to eat dinner with us. Or most likely, embarrass me in front of my girl. Bruce had work and he needed Cippia so they were at the cave. I see that the sigh 'Out to lunch' flipped out, which was weird since it is the afternoon. With a frown, I hurry my steps towards the store, leaving them behind. I reach for the doorknob and open it. What was inside shocked me.

"HEY!", I yelled out as I grip the doorknob tightly in my hand.

Brandon breaks the kiss while not letting go of Zell. I let go of the door and march right up to them. I raised my arm back and let lose. I punched him right in the jaw. He let's go of her as the force of the punch sends him reeling. I was about ready to punch him again when I felt arms grabbing me. Jason and Tim each held onto my arms. Damian is standing in front of Zella in a protective stance.

"Dude I get that you're mad, but not the right time.", Jason says.

"Dick, calm down!", Tim says.

I try to calm down but it was hard. Brandon picks himself up and moves his jaw a little. He winces as he does that.

"I have no regrets about what happened.", he starts to say. "I would do it again."

I growl and try to get out of my brothers' grip.

"Not helping!", Jason says as I try to get out of their grip even more.

"Jason, Tim, let me go.", I said as I suddenly stop struggling.

"No way.", Tim says as he tightens his grip.

"Grayson are you sure you're calm enough?", Damian asks.

"Calm enough.", I said not taking my eyes off of Zell. She looks a little shaken up.

Tim and Jason look at each other before letting me go. Once free, I walk right to Zell and wrap her in my arms. I felt like that was the only way I wouldn't beat the guy to a bloody pulp. She nuzzles her face into my neck. I made sure to keep one arm around her waist and the other around her shoulder. Damian stood next to us once he saw what I was doing.

"Why did you kiss her?", I asked while trying to keep my temper.

"Because you're the wrong guy for her.", he says standing tall.

"And who says you're the right guy, especially after the stunt you just pulled?", Jason asked with crossed arms.

"Much better then a playboy.", Brandon says.

"Dick may have been a playboy, but since he's meet Zella, he's stopped.", Tim says.

"Not sure you're helping guys.", I said with a grimace.

"And do you think you can make her happy?", Brandon asks with a sneer. "You'd be putting her in the spotlight."

"What do you mean?", Jason asks with narrowed eyes.

"The wife of Dick Grayson, the former Ward of Bruce Wayne, would make a good target. For the media or people wanting to make money.", he says as he crosses his arms. He didn't seem like he was going to back down.

"Then they'd have to get through me.", I said as I tighten my grip on her.

"With your job as a cop, how would you be able to protect her 24/7?"

"I don't need to protect her 24/7."

"Either way I'm sure Zella doesn't like being in the spotlight."

"Simmons, you obviously don't understand women.", Damian says from his spot by me.

"Excuse me?", Brandon asks.

"I'm sure Zella has already considered this when she agreed to marry my brother.", he says with a smirk.

The rest of us blink in surprise at Damian calling Zell by her name. He must really want to prove his point. "Better this then him trying to kill Brandon I guess.", I think to myself.

"That's not the point!", Brandon exclaims.

"I believe that it is.", a new voice says from the doorway.

We turn to look and to our surprise it is Bruce. I see from the corner of my eye, Cippia's eyes. He gives a wink then goes into the shadow he was hiding in. "Little rascal brought in the cavalry.", I think to myself.

"Mr. Wayne? Why are you here?", Brandon asks.

"I wanted to have dinner with my sons and daughter.", Bruce says with a smile he uses when dealing with people like this.

"Sir, with no disrespect to Zella in any shape or form, why would you let your oldest 'son' marry her?", he asks.

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

Bruce pov

I noticed how he seemed to say son but I just give a bright smile as I walked towards Dick and Zella. I place a hand on Dick's shoulder.

"Simple. It is because he loves her.", I said with a hint of a smirk.

I could hear behind me Jason and Tim's quiet snickering.

"Mr. Wayne I-", he starts to say before I held up a hand to silence him.

"I think it would be best if you leave. Now.", I said.

He opens and closes his mouth before he set it in a thin line. He takes his leave and closes the door. Jason moves from his spot and replaces the sign with the closed one. Tim is already texting Alfred to come over to cook dinner. Damian is doing the same with Gus.

Dick and I lead the way up the steps into his apartment. Once inside, we see that Cippia is waiting for us with a wagging tail. He nuzzles next to Zella once she and Dick sit on the couch. Damian took the only open spot next to him.

Tim, Jason, and I all sit in chairs. Gus and Alfred soon arrived and start to make dinner. We chatted while dinner was being made. Then all of us ate like a big family. I felt happy when Dick would stare in awe at Zella. She was having fun and I am glad she's not as scared as she used to be of me. I am glad she is joining our family.

[towritecomicsonherarms]

TEN NEW COMICS YOU SHOULD PROBABLY CHECK OUT BECAUSE OF REASONS

Click the links for more info! 

Briar

What if Sleeping Beauty never got her happily ever after... and instead had to save herself? Set in a brutal fantasy world that time forgot, this isn't the fairy tale you know!

Vanish

Oliver Harrison was a mythical hero who slayed the greatest threat to his realm before even hitting puberty. But that was then. As an adult, Oliver leads an average cookie-cutter suburban life-aside from the fact that he's mentally unstable, massively paranoid, smokes like a chimney, and gets blackout drunk every night to hide from his horrific nightmares. Will the arrival of a superhero team called the Prestige prove the madness isn't all in Oliver's head? And what about all the epic fantasy crap from his childhood? 

The Roadie

More than thirty-five years after his heyday, a former heavy metal roadie must return to the backroads of America to do a job he thought he'd retired from: exorcist. But this time, he's not saving groupies and drunk bassists. He's trying to save his daughter. 

Earthdivers

The year is 2112, and it's the apocalypse exactly as expected: rivers receding, oceans rising, civilization crumbling. Humanity has given up hope, except for a group of outcast Indigenous survivors who have discovered a time travel portal in a cave in the middle of the desert and figured out where the world took a sharp turn for the worst: America. Convinced that the only way to save the world is to rewrite its past, they send one of their own on a bloody, one-way mission back to 1492 to kill Christopher Columbus before he reaches the so-called New World. 

Flawed

Frasier meets The Punisher! 

Maskerade

Felicia Dance is hiding in plain sight. The provocative social media star and shock TV sensation has one of the most recognizable faces in the world-so she can't capture and kill the butchers who murdered her little brother and experimented on Felicia like a lab rat when she was a child. Not unless she looks like someone else. 

Old Dog

Jack Lynch was a once-promising CIA operative. On the eve of retirement, looking back at a failed career, he is tasked with one final mission...that goes horribly wrong. He wakes years later to a changed world and deeper changes within him. When a shadow group offers Lynch a second chance at a life of adventure, he's paired with the last person he could ever imagine. In order to adjust, this old dog will have to learn some new tricks... 

Star Trek: Lower Decks

Soon after leading her crew on a planetary expedition aimed at building bridges and advancing Federation technology, Captain Freeman begins to suspect that the planet and its people are not all what they seem... Meanwhile, the crew in the lower decks take to the holodeck, enjoying some much-needed recreational time-until a bloodthirsty visitor decides to join in on their games! 

Creepshow

Each issue of CREEPSHOW will feature different creative teams with uniquely horrifying standalone stories. 

Shock Shop

a brand-new horror anthology flip comic taking place in a haunted comic book shop with a twisted retailer filled with tales of terror sure to leave you with the lights on.

[geniusalpaca]

Tom Holland Masterlist

THESE ARE NOT MINE! These are just fics that i really liked. Please check out the really talented authors of these fics. If there are any mistakes in this list (like links not working etc) Please let me know! Also recommendations are welcome!

WARNING: Some of these fics may be NSFW i tried to mark those with an *. But if i missed some please let me know!

- One too many times by @farfromparker

This isn’t the first time, and you can’t keep pretending everything is okay.

- Cellophane by @waitimcomingtoo

Tom comes right unexpectedly right when you’re about to leave him

- Give Me a Minute to Hold My Girl by @waitimcomingtoo

Tom can’t find you after a bad fight

- Sexy by @waitimcomingtoo

Tom has a problem when you get asked a sexist question

- Invisible by @americaswritings

The reader stays with Tom and his friends during quarantine. To protect her from media and fans, the reader can’t been seen in any social media posts. It leads to her feeling more and more lonely and isolated until she can’t take it anymore.

- Reckless by @vendettaparker

In a fit of jealousy, Tom embarrasses you in front of your new friend and the entire pub, leaving you heartbroken at his reckless actions.

- I’ve Got You, Always by @t-lostinworlds

An interviewer asked you a topic that was off limits wich prompted into a panic attack, and tom decides to step in

- Hidden Agenda by @t-lostinworlds

You were planning on spending christmas alone but Tom presses that you spend it with him and his family. And he just so happen to “forget” to mention to them that you were just his best friend and not his girlfriend.

- Monthlies by @t-lostinworlds 

You tend to dissapear for a week every mont and Tom goes to find out why

- Clumsy by @t-lostinworlds

reader gets hurt during an event and Tom accidently reveals their secret relationship.

- The Choices We Make by @t-lostinworlds

Tom realises everything you and and everything he wasted. He realises that he needs to fight for you and that he cant lose you for good. But will he be able to make things right or  is it to late?

- Breathe by @waitimcomingtoo 

Where Tom and famous!reader gets swarmped by paparazzi and they hide together.

- Plank All Over Me - Autocomplete Interview Edition by @waitimcomingtoo

You and Tom do a WIRED autocomplete interview

- Plank All Over Me - Friendship Test Edition by @waitimcomingtoo

- Plank All Over Me - 72 Questions With Vogue Edition by @waitimcomingtoo

-  Unreal by @morizoras-cave

maybe one where the reader is friends/co-stars with Tom Holland and she dissociates a lot, and how Tom would bring her back/ground her back to reality.

- Trespasser by @morizoras-cave

tom holland x teen!costar!reader and jake gyllenhaal x teen!costar!reader (or just one of them lol) where they’re at the red carpet for the premiere of their new movie. suddenly, a fan sneaks onto the red carpet and inappropriately touches/attacks the reader. tom and jake are super pissed and get super protective over the reader. thank you!

-  Use Me* by @itsallyscorner

Omg after Tom showing off his thighs in that Jimmy Fallon interview, please please please could you write something about thigh riding him

- Exposed by @itsallyscorner

What is she’s a little mix member and a cast member of Spider-Man

-  Bring Me Back by @itsallyscorner

Filming “Cherry” had its ups and downs for Tom. When filming finally takes its toll on him, you’re there to instantly bring him back from the world of Cherry.

- Overprotective by @trashinaglass

Y/n goes to dinner with Tom and his family, and she realizes she didn’t go alone

- .Hurt by @trashinaglass

Y/n gets hurt on set

- That Girl by @trashinaglass

Tom dates his celebrity crush

- Arguments by @trashinaglass

Can you do an imagine where you and Tom get in a fight, but you have a big argument the next day so you have to ride in a long car ride together and it’s pouring so you have to sleep in a hotel and you want to sleep in separate beds and he’s afraid he’s going to lose you

- Hands Off by @trashinaglass

Tom gets protective after paps are rough with y/n

- Sweet* by @hollandsangel

you’re too sweet to resist, even when tom knows he should

- Mr. Darcy by @cali-holland

While undercover at a school in New York, Tom falls for the pretty valedictorian and his partner for an English project.

-  how you get the girl - t.s.h by @sunshinehollandd 

tom befriends the girl who owns the flower shop nearby, and finds himself there more often than he should be

- Fainting by @yesitsmewhataboutit

what about when the reader faints due to her blood sugars and she never told the boys that she’s diabetic and they’re really worried about her

- Desperate* by @wazzupmrstark

the first time tom fucks you raw

- Sick by @wizkiddx

Tom Holland turns into the readers knight in shining armour when they get ill during promo

- 3 hearts broken by @wizkiddx

an argument between you and tom, except it takes him hurting someone else for you to loose it

- Lockscreen by @cherrycheridarling

tom goes on jimmy fallon for a game of 'show me your phone'. being the oblivious child he is, tom forgets about his lockscreen.

- Disguise  by @cherrycheridarling

during a promo interview for the new spider-man film, you and bbc radio one team up to pull a prank on your co-stars.

- "that was painfully sexist"  by @cherrycheridarling

at a panel for the new avenger's film, the questions differ drastically between the female and male actors on stage.

- Misunderstanding by @parkers-gal 

hiiii! can i please get a Tom x Fem!Reader imagine where he and reader have started dating and Tom’s brothers are weary of her because they’re protective etc incase people use Tom but they don’t know she has an actor brother who she helps with his career? Like maybe Taron Egerton or someone idk.. and they overhear her on a phone call to a film crew and they think she’s interfering in Tom’s career but she’s actually on the phone helping her brother?

- Liar: Part 2 by @huntergatherercreator

You find out what Tom does for a living

-  DRUNK by @arvinsescape 

Tom takes care of his girl when she has a girl’s night out 

- Nightmare by @spiderboytotherescue 

bodyguard!tom where something really bad happens to you and that night you have a nightmare and woke up screaming and he’s there to calm you down

This was my first time making a masterlist so if there are some problems like links not working etc please let me know!

- taken for granted by @tomthesoftie

- (untitled) by @roseduroi 

and your brothers and your other parent are upset by what happened and they calm you down bc you’re in hysterics and you don’t want to see dom or Nikki (whichever one hit you) and are a little bit scared of them? And they feel so so horrible ab what happened and are in tears. you finally let them apologize and they hold you for a while and promise to never do it again. 

-  Oscars Over Birthdays by @let-me-luve-you

The day Tom gets fantastic news is the same day your family forgot about your birthday.

-  Tom Holland being annoying for 6 mins video by @astranva

In which a fan makes a compilation video of Tom annoying you in interviews for 6 minutes straight.

- (untitled) by @alyswritings 

since we're talking about tom holland, you could do one of toddler!sister x tom holland where he takes her to a marvel premiere (maybe nwh) and he has her in his arms and she falls asleep on his chest/shoulder while he's on interviews or something and all the fans go crazy because of how cute they are.

-  Don’t Be Clingy by @let-me-luve-you

Being Tom’s little sister means getting to go visit the Spider-Man set. You want to spend as much time with Tom as possible, but everyone else don’t think you should.

-  the perfect touch by @marvelouspeterparker

you’ve never really had an intimate relationship with anyone before, you’ve never really felt close to anyone either—literally. you rarely let people touch you but you secretly crave affection. what happens when you finally find the one person you want to touch you—tom.

-  cherry by @kelieah

May I request a Boss!Tom x Assistant!Reader like shes super shy and quiet but shes super fit so all her coworkers hit on her and tom gets jealous?

-  Attacked by @alyswritings

Y/N gets attacked on the red carpet.

- happy accident by @hollandsangel 

despite your differences you fall in love with him

-  Prince You’ve Been Gone by @heyhihellowhatsup0

When his life as a royal finally becomes too much of a living  nightmare, Prince Thomas of Kingston makes a plan to run away from his  controlling monarch. But he never thought he’d find his escape in you,  the girl from the coffee shop who he meets on his first night without  his crown. Except he hides who he truly is all while falling for your  true self.  

-  Mean Girlfriend by @alyswritings

Sam's girlfriend isn't as nice as she seems. (I know this one is not a Tom Holland fic but it still fits into the Tom Holland universe)

[goggles-mcgee]

FUCK FREUD CLUB SHENANIGANS because I didn't think people would enjoy my little idea so much and I have more to share!

• Harley who may have been drinking a bit: "I gotta admit Brucie babe, I, like many of our classmates, had a little crush on you!"

Jonathan who was getting more comfortable without wearing his Scarecrow hood, also who has been drinking too: "Confession, I also had a crush on you Wayne."

Bruce, now blushing and wondering if he made the Sangria too strong for this week's club meeting: "Well I'm flattered. If we're being honest here, I did have a crush on you Crane after you went off on Professor Kingsley when he said Freud was a genius."

Jonathan, now also slightly blushing: "Stop Mister Wayne or the media will somehow get wind of that and it'll be the new scandal."

Harley: "Speaking of scandal! Have you guys heard about the latest fight Pengy and Riddler had? I heard they legit got into a fight in front of the Bat!"

Sometimes their club meetings turns into gossip sharing.

• Harley bursting into Bruce's Study with Jonathan right behind her: "You're being played by George Clooney!?"

Jonathan: "You agreed to be the secret identity of Batman!?"

Bruce who was plotting Jason's second funeral and Tim's first: "My son's forged my signature on those papers. Then the other's heard about it and got so excited and I couldn't back out! Especially after Cass made me a card! She made me a card!"

Harley: "Pushover."

Jonathan: "People pleaser."

Bruce with his head in his hands: "Arnold Schwarzenegger is Mr. Freeze....Uma Thurman is Poison Ivy....Should I be worried that they'll attack me more after the movie?"

Harley now super excited: "They're in the movie!?"

• Jonathan standing next to a white board as he hosts this week's club meeting: "Today's club meeting will start off with our absolute favorite thing we hate about Freud. After that Harley has designed a Family Feud style game where Bruce, you and I will go against each other and guess Freud's stupidest idea's and studies based off Harley's questions. Winner takes home the homemade Fuck Freud Trophy which is a golden hand giving off the middle finger."

Bruce and Harley lifting up their hands in unison and solemnly flipping off a picture of Freud: "Fuck Freud."

• Bruce being held "hostage" by Two-Face before looking at the clock: "Oh shit. Harv? Can we like, reschedule this? I have a club meeting and I'm in charge of snacks this week."

Two-Face: "You...want to reschedule a hostage situation? For a club?"

Bruce, completely serious: "Yes."

• Harley got them Letterman jackets for the club, of course personalized. Jon even got them mugs for the club. Bruce caved and got them pens and pins made for the club.

His kids do not understand why he goes along with the club but they have also never seen their dad so normal and happy.

Clark gets jealous.

• Bruce walking in late to a club meeting with Starbucks for everybody: "You would not believe the nightmare I had last night."

Jonathan already pulling out a clipboard and pen: "Tell us all about it."

Harley coughing to hide her chuckles: "Yes tell the dream psychologist that has a nightmare kink all about your scary dream."

Jonathan who is blushing now, is it in anger? Is it in embarrassment? Who knows: "One class! One dream psychology class! And I do not have a fear kink!"

Bruce finally taking his seat: "Denial. Interesting. Now let's acknowledge the fact that Harley said you had a nightmare kink not fear kink. Do you want to discuss that further Mr. Crane?"

Jonathan throwing a pen at Bruce: "We were talking about you not me Rich Boy!"

Bruce and Harley cackling.

• Jonathan and Harley are still villains but they kind of start to edge into the anti-hero stage of things. Nobody knows why expect Bruce and he's so proud.

• They actually call each other on their bad days. Harley yelled at Bruce about being more open with his kids and he actually really took it to heart. Jon got collectively yelled at about his self esteem issues and taking better care of himself because no Jon, a human can't just survive off corn and sweet tea. Harley had a tough love session when Bruce and Jon had to tell her just how bad Joker was to her and yeah she realized that but she shouldn't be afraid to get into a relationship with someone just because of that past toxic relationship.

• Bruce's kids actually start to get comfortable with Harley and Jonathan being around the house from time to time. It's still weird to them but they see first hand the changes that all three are going through.

• Bruce babysits Lou and Bud for Harley whenever she needs him too or if she gets in trouble and is sent to Arkham. Damian loves helping out with them.

• Batman may or may not have taken the long way to the university when he heard Scarecrow took over the Psych 101 class because the teacher was obviously incompetent Bats. He was teaching young impressionable minds!

• Bruce admits to them that he hates the whole 'Playboy Billionaire' role he used to play and can't seem to escape from. Especially because he's a dad now, it's not like he can really afford to be a playboy.

• Harley insists on teaching Bruce how to fight because she can't believe how often he gets himself into bad situations.

Jonathan agrees about this and even gives Bruce some of his Fear Toxin in case he ever has to use it in defense to get away from anyone. He even put it in a pepper spray-like bottle so it would go unnoticed.

I have so much more headcanons but here are a few XD

Enjoy

[llamagoddessofficial]

Oh I am incredibly interested In a zoo/research facility au for the siren boys

... 👀

The facility is legally a zoo, it’s how they get a lot of their funding, but it also doubles as an incredibly important centre for the study of sirens. Sirens actively hunt/prey on humans, and having three adult males of different subspecies’ is invaluable to research on how to defend against them. The guys draw loads of visitors, being huge and dangerous and the like... but they also have a lot of scientists keen to examine them.

Sans: An orca boy. His lower half resembles an orca (he’s nowhere near the size of an actual orca, he just has the tail and markings of one), and some of the black markings travel up his bones too. 

... ‘Apathetic’ is the best way to describe Sans...  He’s very intelligent, even by the standards of his own species, but that means keeping him in a tank has left him painfully bored no matter how high the quality of the tank is. He’s so bored and unenriched it’s lead to him becoming... slightly sociopathic in nature. He’ll find any way he can to torment staff, visitors, even his own food when given the chance; it’s been noted that he has a clear preference for living meals that he can chase to exhaustion around his tank. Staff get bitten and splashed, visitors get jumpscared or ignored, and as soon as he’s done he goes back to swimming in mindless circles to pass the time.

... Mc, the cute little new staff member, visibly fascinates him. When she’s around, he’s more friendly, he’s more active, he seems far less bothered with psychologically tormenting any human near his tank. He gets this playful side to him that nobody knew existed... and fortunately for him, nobody gets suspicious of.

Red: His lower half resembles a tiger shark. C’mon, with those chompers? It wasn’t exactly a surprise. Unlike Sans, Red’s actually brilliant with kids, especially younger ones- when schools bring children on supervised ‘educational’ visits to see the sirens he finds himself the natural focal point, given the fact that he’s not only a big cool shark but he’s also the only one of the three who seems to enjoy engaging with visitors. Kids will flock to see him, and he absolutely revels in the attention; spending too much time in a tank has made him desperate for interaction and there’s something about the way their eyes light up when he grins or taps the glass that helps him keep going. 

... His issue is that he’s very aggressive with staff. Anyone he perceives to be part of the group keeping him in the tank get the foulest edge of his temper and often become closely acquainted with those teeth of his; Sans may be smarter than him, but Red’s jaws can do much more damage upon impact. 

When Mc’s around, he just... turns into a dope, like he’s been turned onto his back; he clearly totally adores her, and he doesn’t care if the zoo uses it as an easy way to get him to do what he’s told. If he gets to see her face and spend time with her, it’s worth it.

Skull: Deep sea siren, the kind that barely get any media attention but account for quite a decent chunk of the siren-related deaths, especially at night. His lower half...? A black giant squid.

His tank has a cave in it, for his comfort, which he rarely ever leaves. Occasionally you might a see a tentacle reach out to grab food that’s drifted to the enclosure floor (if you’re lucky) or the flash of an eyelight, buuuuut... that’s about it? All attempts to lure him out of his hiding place end in slightly embarrassing failure. He was popular when he was first caught and brought to the zoo because of the mystery factor, but the fact that he never leaves his cave meant people got bored of him pretty quickly. As such, his darkened tank room is often empty... and it conveniently provides a nice, scenic place to study, work in private, or even just sit down for a bit.

... That’s how Mc met him- she had her back against his tank’s glass after hours, doing some boring paperwork, and it was only when she realised there was a strange red light on her page that she turned around to find that he’d not only left his cave, but he was right up against the glass, his hands and tentacles curling around her as if trying to break through the enclosure and grab on.

Someone left a little treat out in the open for him...

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

fine line - a close reading

gonna cry bc i’m at the end, gonna cry bc it’s fine line.

(x x x)

want to give the same disclaimer as with lights up: this song is so layered, so multi-faceted, that i could never hope to give an exhaustive analysis. due to its vagueness and openness for interpretation, i assume that everyone, just like me, has their own ideas about it and has attached importance to it in ways that no one else’s words can or should alter. this song means the world to me for reasons that aren’t necessarily in this post, and that’s how it is with art that touches us deeply. i’ve tried my best to pull it apart, lay it bare, spread it open, if you will, so it’s almost as free as it can be for you all to form your own opinion on it. in the synthesis i will make my own conclusions, but feel free to ignore that if yours are totally different. i’m just one set of brain and heart taking in fine line and projecting whatever i think is right onto it. alright, let’s go

fine line, track 12

sung in falsetto

live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her

live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her

Put a price on emotion

pouring emotions into the art you create: how much is genuine / how much do you show - line between being authentic to your audience and giving away too much, wanting to keep things to yourself and not feeling truthful with what you’ve written

exploits of the industry: lay your soul bare - or the exact opposite, some pretend emotion - to score that hit

I'm looking for something to buy

cynical. emotions aren’t genuine, right? where can i go buy some?

～ lights up themes. fake life, industry, being a sell-out

You've got my devotion

But man, I can hate you sometimes

“you” = career, music, Harry Styles™. devoted to the craft, to the job, all the ups and downs of it, despite the hardships it brings 

“man” is deliberate: can be seen as an offhand interjection, like “man, that’s rough”, but nothing is casually placed in this song. “man” is: The Man, the heads in the industry, the people pulling the strings. The man in Harry, the man he’s been in the media all these years, the part he’s played/had to play, the man that’s in him

⟶ “hate you”: hate for industry shit, self-hate created by having to play pretend (～ only angel analysis, the persona of the Bukowski womaniser)

“sometimes” - it’s not fucked up all the time

“you” could also be a lover, but the sudden “hate” there then would be for that person, which is absent in any other song about them, doesn’t make any sense

I don't want to fight you

And I don't want to sleep in the dirt

like there’s a choice to me made, but he doesn’t want to make it: either I fight this “you” or I sleep in the dirt

“you” as the industry: if he doesn’t fight them, he might end up being a beggar, lose all his self-worth bc he gave in to everything they asked/told him to do

“you” as himself: fight your instincts, part of who you are/the persona. if he doesn’t fight to figure himself out, though, he fears he’ll also lose

“sleep in the dirt” as a sense of rejection, as well

We'll get the drinks in

So I'll get to thinking of her

drinks to cope - falling, only angel, from the dining table - or to be braver and confront emotions better - tbsl

who is “we”? who is “her”?

narrative of “you” as “lover” further disproven: if “I” and the lover get together over drinks and “I” starts thinking of “her”?

⟷ “her” could be the lover, but then who is “you”? the industry? some other person, besides that lover, harry is devoted to? multiple lovers, all of a sudden? no.

⟶ “I” and “you” are all harry, that get to thinking of “her” because she is in daydreams with him. the narrative that harry is fighting a part of him, the persona he has (had) to play bc of industry limits, makes most sense. that persona is within him now, and part of his work, but all of him, “we”, is begging to come into the light - of which she is a huge part

We'll be a fine line

balancing act. let everything coexist but pay attention that those lines don’t get crossed the wrong way. what we are, what i am, is a fine line between what makes us go under and what lets us thrive

we will be: determination to fulfil this prophecy, statement of fact “we always will be”

“we’ll be a fine line”: other way of interpreting it is that on both sides of that line is what entails “we”, all that is harry. what merges on that fine line is where it’s just right, when harry is fully himself in every way

“fine line” can also be an echo of criticism, bigotry, in the style of: it’s a fine line between being simply flamboyant and queer, between dressing like that and people thinking you’re a transvestite or summat (cause we wouldn’t want that, now, would we) - “we’ll be a fine line” could be owning all of it. putting himself in the middle of all those messy lines, as someone queer without a category

Test of my patience

patience with himself - kindness to self - took a long time to figure shit out and it was a challenge

waiting for change: industry and its allowances/openness

There's things that we'll never know

my favorite line

“we” = harry / harry and company / us in general, all of us listening 

～ tpwk “i don’t need all the answers”: deep sense of acceptance

peace to be found in accepting this!!

You sunshine, you temptress

“sunshine” - as in all the love songs (blue skies, sunflowers, summer days…): lover - possible that there are multiple “you”s in this song?

sunshine could ofc also be directed at the temptress, still

female “temptress” - “i’ll get to thinking of her” - she - it’s tempting for harry to think of her all the time, to lose himself in the “her” in him

other interpretation for “temptress”: woman he knows with negative influence in his life - resemblance to woman “you flower, you feast”, so echo of Bukowski ～ only angel, kiwi (my sunshine, my love, who is involved with this temptress…)

My hand’s at risk, I fold

⟷ tpwk “dropping into the deep end”

not showing his cards just yet / forfeits

anxious to show all of him, to take the chance, with all the risks and consequences involved

Crisp trepidation

I’ll try to shake this soon

nervousness, anxiety - about (not) taking (enough) chances, (not) laying himself bare (release of the album that reveals much more than before)

“crisp” fresh, this feeling is unfamiliar - change is coming “soon”

sense of agency: I can get rid of this feeling by my own volition and make these changes - hesitant, insecure: “try”

wants to be braver. he’s not going back, but still needs to calmly coax himself further and further into the light, out into the open (“we’ll be alright”)

Spreading you open

Is the only way of knowing you

(can anyone else hear “spread thin” like a whisper under “spreading”? or am i imagining things.)

“you” is back - the only way of knowing “you” is to spread them open - the physical

to spread someone open - very literal, don’t need to paint the picture, or to lay bare, to lay it all out 

⟶ “you” as himself - the only way of knowing who i am is by doing this: writing this album, performing these songs, letting others listen in and form their own interpretations, let this world grow where i’m laid bare and OPEN and exist as this person who has issues, who is angry, who doesn’t know who he is a lot of the time, but is still so happy to be here - let it spread and let it all circle back to me so i can grow deeper into myself

We'll be a fine line

We'll be alright

“we” = h & self, h & lover, h & fans

collectiveness from tpwk

(notes on a piano sounding like drops, like he’s emerged from the water and dripping dry)

SYNTHESIS

Everything about this song is plural. Personal pronouns are all over the place. I, you, her, we. The sound is incredibly layered, with Harry’s own voice echoing through its verses like he’s singing to himself in an empty cave. Meanings can be attached to every word like it’s a wax tablet used too many times. What Harry has said in interviews for once holds pretty true to the actual meaning, in my opinion. 

“It felt like it described to me the process of making it and how the album felt in terms of the different kinds of songs on it.” (Capital FM)

This can mean a lot of things, and I think it means all of the things, of course. It means Fine Line is a summary of all of his emotions he visited on the album, of the things he’s laid bare. And it means that the actual process was also described, as one that can be frustrating and challenging, with added industry shit. 

Harry has expressed straightforward gratefulness to his label for "leaving (him) alone” while making the album and that speaks volumes. This time, he had the chance to make his art without the constant interference of a label, which meant he could weave in criticism as well. “Put a price on emotion” is first and foremost a critique on the industry. It’s the first line of the song, setting the tone for the interpretation of this song is about the risks I took while making this album. It involves criticism on an industry that creates such an atmosphere that only a certain type of music and artist breaks through or can be successful, that limits people in their personal expression. Convinces them that it’s better that way. That it’s better to hide who they love because the general public won’t accept them. That it’s better to create a song about a fake emotion than be honest. Harry loves writing songs and being on stage, but it’s taken a while for him to be fully comfortable there as a solo artist and bloom into the person that could make Fine Line. He loves his career, but it’s also limited his freedom in ways beyond our comprehension, and it’s exploited him to the point where he didn’t know who he was, in ways that have clearly taken a toll on his mental wellbeing. To a point where he finishes this album reassuring himself, most of all, that everything will be alright.

That process of making Fine Line obviously includes Harry confronting emotions he hadn’t before. He has stated that he experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows while making it. There are things he hates, he was fighting but doesn’t want to (anymore), uncertainties he was trying to figure out but had to accept he couldn’t, risks he still doesn’t know he can take without shaking. At the centre of it all is this sense of “knowing you.” The different personal pronouns in the song paint a fractured picture, which is ultimately deliberate. That the “you” Harry is devoted to and can hate sometimes doesn’t line up with “her,” that the end focus does seem to be this “you” that is mentioned in the same breath as “man” and “temptress,” forming the “we” together with “I”. 

After having songs like Lights Up, She, Falling and even TPWK, one of the central themes on the album has undoubtedly been self-discovery, in all its pain and glory. There are no female pronouns on the album besides, obviously, in She, and then here, in Fine Line. She is about a man living with a woman “just in his head”, who “sleeps in his bed while he plays pretend.” It is very clearly a trans narrative, the story of someone struggling to put into words what they’re experiencing in terms of gender. To a point that they fantasise about running away. Fine Line brings the ideas of knowing what it all means, which Lights Up kicks off (“do you know who you are?”), Falling deepens (“what am I now?”) and Treat People With Kindness turns on its head (“I don’t need all the answers”), together. Harry is still doubtful, and the questions asked earlier in the album haven’t disappeared, but he has accepted that “some things we’ll never know.” His aim, however, is still “knowing you.” 

To have Fine Line, as the summary of these emotions of self-growth and self-discovery, echo that one female pronoun, speaks volumes. It is a direct reference to She, to that story about gender. “Her” in this song refers to “she (who) lives in daydreams with (him).” The one who still only fully comes out when they’ve had a drink. The one he’s still working to include in who he is, as he tries to figure out who he is, all of it. The song where he sings in falsetto, just like on Fine Line. Of which he sang the first verse an octave lower live at the forum, switching between those voices, those perspectives. That’s also why “you” in this song is also Harry to me. We get this fractured sense of self, this “I” and “you” conversing over a drink, this “you” Harry is devoted to and wants to figure out. “You” and “I” form “we” and all of them are Harry. The lines are blurry on purpose, there is no way to figure out where “you” ends and “I” begins. 

“You sunshine, you temptress” is the most enigmatic line in that respect, and to me blurs those lines even more between the pronouns. “You” is suddenly also identified by a female noun. And no this isn’t about some kind of love triangle. “Sunshine” aligns with all the odes to his lover in the rest of the album. So what does that mean? That there are multiple “you”s in this song, meaning that Harry is addressing both his lover and a temptress? So “her” he’ll get to thinking of, the only other female pronoun used in the song, is identified as a temptress, but tempting to do what? To take risks? And no I won’t forget the “man, I can hate you sometimes,” where "man” is not a casual interjection but an identifier of “you.” 

Or is it an echo of “the light” from Golden’s “bring me back to the light” and Light’s Up’s “step into the light”? So that the “sunshine” symbolises being in the clear, being out of the darkness running through his heart, the darkness caused by not knowing who you are. “You sunshine,” you beacon of light. “You temptress,” risk-taker and source of anxiety. You, one I need to spread open to figure out, to know about, source of happiness and despair, one I’m devoted to but also hate. You, man, you, temptress. You there, in the mirror looking back at me. 

All of you, and myself included, we’ll be a fine line. And we’ll be alright.

This song is about all of that. The self in art, the self on its own, the other, the journey, the chances, the fears, the passion. Hope. Reassurance. Confidence. And, most importantly, that everything will be alright in the end.

x

read all my lyric analyses here

[ouyangzizhensdad]

Phoenix Mountain Kiss and Consent/Boundaries in MDZS

The following opinion, expressed in the recent mdzs controversial opinion thread on twitter, is actually one I’ve meant to address for a while:

Even if most of fans loves the 'stolen kiss scene' in the Phoenix Mountain in the novel, that was a sexual harassment.

People in the fandom, especially those who were introduced first to the novel through cql, have a tendency to criticize the Phoenix Mountain kiss scene, saying it was non-consensual. My problem is not that they are wrong. The kiss is (or starts as, at the very least) non-consensual. My problem with this criticism is that people point this out as if it were a mistake. As if mxtx had meant to write a romantic kiss and had instead fumbled it all up and made it not consensual by virtue of not being woke, not being a good enough writer, or being too influenced by bl tropes. And that readers are too unsuspecting or not educated enough to realize the wrong mxtx committed. 

Here’s my hot take: The kiss is non-consensual because it was written to be non-consensual. mxtx is not trying to pull the wool over our eyes. The reason why we, as readers, can infer that, is because the non-consensual aspects of the kiss are important to the events of the plot, some of themes explored in the book, lwj and wwx’s relationship after wwx’s return, and lwj’s character arc. mxtx uses this moment and its aftermaths, amongst others, to make a point about consent and communication in relationships--one of the central themes of the novel. Shocking, I know. Arguing that consent and communication are a main theme in mdsz: now that's a controversial opinion.

Now, I won’t argue mxtx always manages to develop this theme with utmost finesse. You can critique and disagree with her treatment of the theme throughout the novel (taking into consideration, as well, how it’s not just explored through lwj and wwx’s relationship). That being said, isolating events in the novel like the Phoenix kiss scene to mark them as Good or Bad without considering the context in which they happen and are explored within the novel is just bad literary analysis :/. 

Let’s first consider this simple statement: the non-consensual aspect of the kiss is not accidental--mxtx knew it was non-consensual when she wrote it, and she wasn’t trying to hide that fact. 

By the time we reach the Phoenix Mountain competition, lwj has accepted his feelings for wwx, and that these feelings will not be returned. After all, in the xuanwu cave, wwx took great pains to ‘reassure’ him that he is super-straight-and-totally-would-never-flirt-with-him. Yet, wwx continues to ‘flirt’ with him--tossing a flower at him just before the competition--which we can gather is a source of, um, great torment for him. 

We are not privy to lwj’s thought process leading to the stolen kiss. What we know for certain, however, is how he reacts to and perceives his own actions after the fact.  Through wwx’s unreliable narration, we can still understand that lwj immediately regrets his actions and feels uncontrollable anger towards himself and his lack of self-restraint. While wwx has more complicated and contradictory feelings bout the kiss, lwj clearly sees his actions as wrong and disrespectful. He is scared of what he has been capable of doing unto another person--pushing wwx away the moment he sees him after the kiss. 

The person spun around. It was Lan Wangji after all. However, right now, his eyes were bloodshot, his expression almost frightening. Wei Wuxian was startled, “Wow, so scary.”

Lan Wangji’s voice was harsh, “Go!”

Wei Wuxian, “I just came here and you want me to go. Do you really hate me that much?”

Lan Wangji, “Stay away from me!” [chapter 69]

As readers, we are told that the Phoenix Mountain kiss, nor its implications, is not something to consider lightly. The fact that lwj’s reaction after the kiss is written in, and that it is so intense for someone usually so reserved, or the fact that we learn that more than a decade later he is still ashamed of himself and describe himself as having done something wrong (or, very wrong 很不对 ), all prove that the non-consensual aspect of the kiss is not an accident and is not downplayed as something to expect from someone in love with another person. 

蓝忘机闷声道：“我，那时，自知不对。很不对。” [chapter 111]

I can already hear some people ask: even if it was not an accident, why chose to include a non-consensual kiss between the two romantic leads? if not because it is a bl trope/weird kink, why did mxtx chose to put this in her novel? what do we gain by including dubious consent or non-consensual interactions in our fiction?

The long-short answer is: because the act of crossing boundaries is a very productive story-telling device for any piece of media focusing on any type of interpersonal relationships. Crossing boundaries--willfully or unintentionally--is a source of conflict, internal and/or relational, which can drive the plot forward, shape character development and relationships, as well as be useful for certain thematic discussions. 

Current discourses regarding consent in English-speaking, mostly-western spheres of the web tend to be very polarized, painting people who cross boundaries as bad. The solution presented (i.e. how to not be a bad person) tends to be an invitation for everyone, within any relationship, to constantly negotiate consent verbally and honestly: to constantly disclose boundaries, to constantly ask for permission, etc. While I do not dismiss the value of these suggestions, it is an ideal representative of certain socio-temporally specific cultural expectations of what communication is, how communication should happen, and how relationships should be like, etc.. Human relationships are messy, people are flawed and hurt each other, and we have complex internal lives (for instance, someone might not realize their wants or limits until they are faced with them). Instead of having media show us only a specific type of idealized relationships where boundaries are never crossed, ever, they allow us to explore the implications of boundaries within interpersonal relationships. Or, sometimes, media and fiction just aim to represent or are influenced by this very real part of human relationships, and use it as a way to create conflict within the narrative and relationships (sometimes in a interesting manner, sometimes in a very gross manner).

In mdsz, the Phoenix mountain non-consensual kiss is a two-fold source of conflict:  internal (lwj) and relational. While wwx remains unaware until he and lwj are together of the identity of the person who kissed him, the implications of the kiss ends up shaping their relationship both before and after wwx’s rebirth. 

A source of (unknown) conflict between lwj and wwx after he is summoned back from the dead is the fact that lwj believes wwx is aware of his feelings. But this conflict is further compounded by the fact that lwj has once forced his feelings unto wwx, and is utterly afraid that he would dare to ever do it again. That is why, every time wwx initiates physical contact, or flirts very deliberately with lwj, lwj never goes further than what wwx has initiated. Sometimes, he even de-escalates their proximity or level of intimacy (usually by asking wwx to “ 别乱动”  or, famously during Drunk#2, by literally knocking himself out) --out of fear that he, again, would lack self-control and do something wrong to the man he loved.  He never presumes he has the permission to push their relationship further than what wwx is offering. Without that added source of conflict, would it have been reasonable to expect lwj and wwx to have realized their mutual feelings earlier, even with the issue of lwj not being aware wwx does not know of his feelings?

“In the beginning, the reason for behaving in such a manner was to let Lan Wangji be disgusted with him and kick him out of the Cloud Recesses, and they would never have to meet again, going their separate ways. Lan Wangji couldn’t possibly tell what his real intentions were. Yet, [..] even when faced with Wei Wuxian’s various actions, tricks, and pranks, Lan Wangji never once lost his temper, reciprocating with restraint and courtesy.” [chapter 99]

That is all true, of course, until Drunk 3. Here again, the ghost of the stolen kiss plays a part in accentuating the conflict. Without it, would lwj have jumped to conclusions as quickly? And, plot-wise, the shared perception of wwx and lwj that they have taken advantage of the other is a source of conflict that does multiple things--it gives wwx an incentive to go look at the temple at night to distract himself from his guilt and sadness, instead of going the next day with lwj (at which point jgy would have had perhaps already left) and it keeps wwx in the dark about lwj’s feelings until lxc reveals to him the events of the past he has forgotten. Here again, issues of consent are clearly taken into consideration as a source of conflict, shaping both characters’ motivations and the events of the plot.

Finally, the theme of consent/boundaries is an important aspect of lwj’s internal struggle, particularly in relation to his father’s choices. The kiss is part of his journey. 

It is not coincidental that the Lan motto is “Be Honorable”/”Self-restraint,” and that lwj is presented as the model Lan disciple. This element is part of the context that gives narrative and thematic meaning to the non-consensual kiss. When lwj forces a kiss on a blindfolded wwx, lwj goes against the values he holds dear and the teachings that were imparted unto him--prime internal conflict. 

But what is also interesting, to me in any case, is how consent is the thing that ultimately differentiates lwj’s choices from his father’s. 

How willing was Lan-furen to be saved by Qingheng-jun? to be taken to live in seclusion in the Cloud Recesses? to be married to him? to have children with him? The novel never tells us clearly. However, the novel gives us an idea of how lqr, lxc and lwj perceive their parents’ relationship. For lwj, we are given an insight into his perception indirectly during the following conversation between him and lxc.

[Lan Xichen] spoke, “Wangji, is there something on your mind? Why have you been so tense?”

Of course, in most people’s eyes, the ‘tenseness’ probably looked no different than Lan Wangji’s other expressions.

Lan Wangji’s brows sunk low as he shook his head. A few moments later, he replied in a low voice, “Brother, I want to take someone back to the Cloud Recesses.”

Lan Xichen was surprised. “Take someone back to the Cloud Recesses?”

Lan Wangji nodded, his expression pensive. After a pause, he continued, “Take them back… and hide them somewhere.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes immediately widened.

[…]

“Hide them somewhere?”

Lan Wangji frowned softly. “But they are not willing.” [chapter 72]

Indirectly, we come to understand that lwj draws parallels with his father situation: they both want to protect someone by taking them to the Cloud Recesses, but these persons are unwilling. The unsaid question here is, would I choose to do as our father did? 

The non-consensual kiss is part of lwj’s journey, through which he comes to understand that, despite his strict upbringing and disciplined lifestyle that was supposed to keep him from becoming like his father, he is capable of being his father (or at least who he thinks his father is). He learns that he can understand what sort of passionate feelings could bring someone to do something that goes against not only the wishes of his clan members, but the very wishes of the person they love, for the sake of keeping them safe or for the sake of having them by their sides. And at the end of that internal journey, lwj chooses not be like his father--to put wwx’s decisions and wants and needs first. After buyetian, lwj offers his protection and confesses his feelings--and wwx rejects him. lwj respects wwx’s choice, while still going against his clan to protect him. He brings wwx back to Mass Grave Hill knowing full well that wwx would not survive long the wrath of the four great sects seeking revenge against him, and goes home to receive his punishment.

Overall, what I tried to say in many many words, is that the Phoenix Mountain kiss is not non-consensual by accident. It is not because mxtx is an awful person or is not educated enough, or because she thinks dubious consent is romantic. The fact that it is non-consensual is addressed within the narrative, fuels internal and external conflicts, and is as well woven into the plot structure and the themes of the novel. The kiss is not an outlier element, added to titillate a readership--it exists as an integral part of the novel.

I’m not saying it’s not okay to decide that you do not want to engage with any content that includes non-consensual interactions or dubious consent because that triggers or irks you regardless of the way it is handled. It is totally valid to not personally enjoy or have criticisms about choices mxtx made in exploring these themes, in presenting the internal and relational conflicts around consent/boundaries, or even in the way she decided to write the scenes that figure dubious consent. However, it is not really helpful to divorce an event from its context within a piece of media in order to brand it as either Problematic or Unproblematic, Good or Bad.

Note: Much more could be said about the theme of consent/boundaries in mdzs; this is not exhaustive in the least. 

Note2: Much more could be said, in relation to the question and theme of consent, about: the cultural limitations of Westerners to engage fully with a text written for a chinese audience; the limits of fan translators to fully understand  the nuances and themes of a novel and to communicate them in a different language; about the place dubious consent and non-consensual interactions has had in the romance/erotica genre for a long time, and no, not only because Misogyny or Homophobia.