#Thorn Enterprises

[thorn-enterprises]

Celebrating Thanksgiving with Bluegrass Harmony

Thanksgiving is a time for gratitude, family, and reflection, and what better way to enhance this festive spirit than with the warm sounds of bluegrass music? Rooted in American history, bluegrass embodies the essence of community and storytelling, making it the perfect soundtrack for this holiday.

Imagine gathering around the dinner table, the aroma of roasted turkey and pumpkin pie wafting in the air, as the lively strumming of banjos and the sweet tones of a fiddle fill the room. Bluegrass, with its rich harmonies and upbeat rhythms, invites everyone to share their stories and express their thanks. It’s a genre that celebrates life’s simple joys, much like the Thanksgiving tradition itself.

Whether it’s classic songs like “Molly and Tenbrooks” or modern renditions from artists like The Infamous Stringdusters, bluegrass can elevate your Thanksgiving gathering. So, this year, as you carve the turkey and raise a glass, let the vibrant notes of bluegrass music carry your hearts and minds to a place of gratitude and connection.

Happy Thanksgiving! Let the music play and the memories unfold.

[bomber-grl]

The Distraction I Needed

Pairing(s): Damian Wayne x Gn!Reader

Word count: 2,581

-

Damian Wayne stared across the classroom, eyes narrowed, arms crossed, and a faint scowl on his face. He was not happy. Not with the assignment, not with the teacher, and certainly not with the person sitting just two desks away from him.

You.

For months now, you and Damian had been engaged in a bitter academic rivalry. Whether it was the most difficult calculus problem or a history essay on ancient civilizations, you two were constantly battling for the top spot in every class. There were no alliances on the battlefield of academia. No mercy. Just pure, unadulterated competition.

Damian had, of course, figured out your secret identity. It didn’t take a detective to put two and two together. You were his enemy in every way. You were a villain– and that’s not just what he called you in his head. You had an uncanny ability to throw him off his game, whether it was with your sarcastic remarks or... well, that thing you did with your smile. You were his biggest grievance and biggest distraction.

It was infuriating.

“Damian,” you said, tilting your head with a teasing grin. “Struggling with the homework, or just busy being edgy again?”

Damian glared at you from across the room. He could practically hear your thoughts: teasing him, messing with him—like always. You weren’t a truly evil villain, not like the others. You had your own quirky way of causing chaos, and it often involved messing with him. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“I’m not pretending,” Damian muttered under his breath. “I’m just not wasting my time on a distraction that doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, so you admit I’m a distraction?” you shot back, your grin widening. “That’s cute.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You're insufferable."

You laughed, not deterred by his less-than-thorny comments, “Well, you say insufferable, I say irresistible. But hey, we can agree to disagree.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, “This is ridiculous.”

“Oh, it’s ridiculous, huh?” You smirked, leaning across your desk to get closer. “Well, if it’s so ridiculous, why do you keep coming back for more?”

His face flushed and his collar suddenly seemed tighter, uncomfortably so. He huffed as he heard you distant laugh, knowing when you had won all too well.

You were a constant thorn in his side, but it wasn’t just the rivalry. You had a way of getting under his skin—flirting, teasing, and constantly making everything more complicated.

Again, Of course, he knew your secret identity. It wasn’t like you were subtle about it, after all. As V/N, you were someone he was supposed to stop. Someone he was supposed to defeat. Someone who, despite your occasional teasing, was still technically his enemy.

But that didn’t make you any less... intriguing.

After class, you sidled up to Damian by his locker, grinning as if you owned the entire hallway.

“You owe me,” you said with a cocky tone, hands on your hips. “You’re always so stiff in class. Must suck having been born with a stick up your ass, so how about I treat you to lunch?”

Damian, fully prepared to shut you down, found himself momentarily distracted by how you were standing there, your expression somehow a perfect mix of playful and dangerous. You were ridiculous, but he couldn’t deny that a part of him wanted to see where this absurd interaction would lead.

“I’m not paying for your food,” he said flatly, though he didn’t move to walk away.

“A little frugal don't you think? But, I know,” you said, giving him that sly smile. “You’re coming with me, though. It’ll be fun.”

Damian glanced around—he couldn’t just walk away now. Besides, it was... lunch. What harm could it do?

-

The two of you ended up at a small café in town, the kind that you would have never guessed a high-profile heir to Wayne Enterprises would ever be seen in. But there he was, sitting across from you, pretending not to be completely distracted by your presence.

“I’ll have the usual,” you told the waiter, then turned to Damian, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You should try something new. A little adventure in your otherwise dull life for once.”

Damian didn’t want to admit it, but... you had a point. He always played everything safe. He might’ve been strict through and through, but his interactions with you were anything but predictable.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, trying to hide the way he was genuinely curious about what you’d pick. “This is stupid.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” you teased, leaning back in your chair, completely unbothered. “But we both know you can’t get me out of your head. Not with that look on your face.”

Damian’s eyebrow twitched as he looked away. “I’m not—” He cut himself off, realizing how stupid that sounded. “I’m not thinking about you, In fact, you’re the last thing on my mind.”

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow, giving him that look that said you knew exactly what was going on inside his head. “Because it looks to me like you are. I’ve seen the way you look at me, Damian.”

Damian’s grip on his drink tightened. “Stop making everything... complicated.”

“Well, someone has to,” you said, tapping your fingers on the table, seemingly too pleased with the effect you had on him. “It’s too easy to mess with you, Damian. It’s fun. Deny how you feel about me but you can't deny that.”

He didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t very well admit that he was starting to wonder if you were right. Maybe he did think about you more than he wanted to. Maybe you were starting to get under his skin in ways he wasn’t used to. And maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as indifferent as he liked to think.

-

Later that night, after a very complicated altercation involving the two of you fighting side-by-side against a group of criminals (which neither of you had really expected to happen), Damian found himself alone in his room, staring at the ceiling. Sure, you were technically a villain, stealing candy from babies and all, but you actually teamed up with him for this.

It had been a mess, but a fun one. He had to admit, for a villain, you were... not bad. He thought about how, after taking down the bad guys, you’d playfully ruffled his hair, called him a "stubborn little knight," and teased him for “being too serious.”

It was honestly... kind of endearing.

But that was impossible, right?

He wasn’t supposed to like you. You were a villain. A villain. His father had warned him time and time again about those kinds of entanglements. And yet...

“He still fell for Catwoman,” Damian muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling. Was he really becoming like his father? The thought made him groan in frustration. How could someone like him—someone who was so focused, so serious—even think about you like that?

“Absurd,” he muttered again, slamming his pillow down onto his bed. “I’m just being distracted. That’s all.”

-

The next day, you found him in the hallway again, as if you were always waiting around to throw him off balance.

“Ready for class?” you asked innocently, though the playful smirk tugging at your lips suggested otherwise.

Damian sighed, looking at you with the same exasperated expression as always. But this time, there was something different about the way he stared at you.

He couldn’t explain it. But for once, the rivalry—academic or otherwise—didn’t seem as important as the fact that, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as annoyed by you as he liked to pretend.

“Stop doing that,” he grumbled, feeling his face heat up slightly. “You’re distracting.”

You grinned wider, eyes sparkling with that mischievous glint. “I know. But you like it, don’t you?”

Damian froze, his mind spiraling into chaos. He didn’t want to admit it, but... he didn’t have to, did he? The more you teased him, the more he realized just how impossible it all was.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, turning away before you could see the faintest flicker of a smile on his lips.

And in the back of his mind, despite every bit of logic telling him to keep away, Damian couldn't stop the thought from creeping in:

Maybe, just maybe, this ridiculous rivalry—this ridiculous teasing—wasn’t as bad as he thought.

-

It had been a week since you’d been absent from school. A whole week.

At first, Damian didn’t think much of it. Sure, he had gotten used to your teasing, your constant attempts to throw him off course, and your infuriatingly distracting presence. But no big deal, right? He could handle it. The quiet, the lack of you trying to “distract” him in class... it wasn’t like he needed you there. Not at all.

But as the days went on, something started to feel... off.

Damian found himself staring at his empty desk next to him in class. The seat that usually held you, with your smug little smile and obnoxious comments, was eerily vacant. The whole dynamic of the room felt empty. The lessons, the homework, the constant battle for first place—it was all so boring without you there. He didn’t have to think about your teasing or try to keep his cool around you anymore. And that, strangely enough, was the problem. He missed it.

He missed you. And it bugged the hell out of him.

It wasn’t like he was waiting for you to show up so you could mess with him, but... okay, maybe a little. There was something about your antics, something about how unpredictable and ridiculous you were, that had wormed its way into his heart. He never admitted it, of course, but he was more aware of it than he liked to admit. And now? Now, with you gone, there was a noticeable hole in his routine.

On the seventh day of your absence, as Damian sat at his desk, trying—unsuccessfully—to focus on an assignment, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He glanced at the screen. Unknown number.

“Hello?” Damian answered, frowning. He didn’t trust random calls, especially when they were so cryptic.

The voice on the other end was distorted, obviously masked. “Damian Wayne. We have someone you care about. You know who they are.” There was a pause, a deep, unsettling breath before the voice continued. “If you want them back, come alone. They’re close, but not for long.”

Damian’s heart skipped. His mind immediately went to you. You were his rival, his annoyance, but—damn it—he cared about you. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.

He clenched his jaw. “Where are they?”

“Come find out,” the voice mocked, before hanging up.

Damian’s eyes blazed with fury. He didn’t even hesitate. Grabbing his suit and mask from the nearby closet, he donned the Robin persona, immediately gearing up for what would inevitably be a chaotic rescue mission. He wasn’t going to wait for his father, or Nightwing, or anyone. This was his fight. His responsibility. His problem.

Within minutes, he was in the Batcave, and he went straight for the Batmobile. “Damian, where are you going?” Alfred's Voice rang out, calm and collected as always.

“I’m going alone. I don’t need backup,” Damian shot back, his voice hard and unwavering.

“Master Damian—”

“I said, I don’t need backup, don’t tell anyone else where I’m headed.”

Alfred sighed, but he knew better than to argue. Damian was already out the door before he could stop him.

-

Damian arrived at the location—a decrepit warehouse on the outskirts of Gotham. As he stalked in, his senses went on high alert. There were too many men. Too many voices. Too much noise. But there was no sign of you yet.

“Where are they?” he demanded, voice low, as he threw one of the thugs across the room. The other men scattered, yelling in confusion. He had no patience for this.

One thug tried to come at him with a crowbar. Damian knocked him out with a swift punch to the face. He couldn’t afford to waste time with these idiots. All he cared about was getting to you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of beating up bad guys and tossing them out of the warehouse toward the police, he spotted you, tied to a chair in the far corner of the room.

You looked beat up—bruises covering your face, your clothes torn. But you were still conscious, still... you.

“Damian…” You smiled weakly, your voice still laced with that same mischievous tone. “Well, well. If it isn’t my knight in shining armor.”

Damian’s chest tightened. “Can you stand?” he asked, trying to hide how worried he was.

You chuckled softly, even though it sounded strained. “Well, it’s not every day I get rescued by a charming vigilante. This is definitely a new look for you, Robin.” You smirked, clearly trying to make light of the situation.

Damian was fuming, both angry at the situation and relieved you were still alive. “Don’t make jokes,” he muttered, quickly cutting the ropes that bound you. “You look like you’ve been through hell, don’t torture me now as payback.”

“I’m fine,” you said, rolling your eyes, but there was a flicker of gratitude in your voice. “I’ve had worse. I had to stitch a cut across my entire stomach once–”

“Stop being so difficult,” Damian snapped, not even trying to hide the concern in his tone as he helped you to your feet. “You’re lucky I even came for you.”

“Oh, don’t sound so upset, my little knight,” you teased, winking at him despite your battered state. “It’s not like I didn’t enjoy the attention.”

Damian scowled. “You’re insufferable.”

“Only for you,” you replied with a playful grin, ignoring how wobbly your legs were. “Come on, admit it. You’ve missed me.”

Damian’s face flushed, and he quickly averted his eyes. “No, I haven’t.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased, clearly enjoying making him squirm. “You’ve probably been lonely without me. Bet the whole school feels empty without my sparkling presence.”

He shot you a look that could kill. “I’m not answering that.”

You laughed, clearly amused by the whole situation. But it wasn’t lost on you that Damian’s icy exterior was starting to crack, just a little.

As the two of you walked out of the warehouse together, Damian’s mind was whirling. His usual irritation toward you was clouded by something else—something much more complicated that he wasn’t willing to acknowledge.

Once you were safely away from the scene, in a more neutral space to talk, you couldn’t resist one last jab.

“So, how’s the whole ‘I don’t need anyone’ thing working out for you, Mr. ‘I’m so edgy, and oh did I mention that I’m a lone wolf’?” you asked with a smirk.

Damian shook his head, his voice low and tinged with frustration. “You’re impossible.”

But, deep down, he couldn’t help but feel... relieved that you were safe.

“Yeah, I know. You’ve told me that like a million times” You grinned up at him, your usual playful attitude as strong as ever. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?”

Damian just muttered something under his breath, refusing to admit anything, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

You were insufferable. And yet, somehow, you’d wormed your way into his heart.

[freakartack]

"...Hello? Ma! I told you not to call me today, I'm making a movie!" -Wario, Mario Power Tennis

The most important lesson from Ma that Wario took to heart was the endless pursuit of cold, hard cash. Unfortunately, the one lesson she could never teach him was the importance of hard work to get it.  It wasn't for lack of trying; Wario's Ma is the hardest worker this side of the Mushroom Kingdom.  Raising Baby Wario was a herculean enough task on its own, but ever the enterprising spirit, she had also set out to grow one of the most profitable crops: garlic.

Her backyard business quickly expanded into a veritable garlic empire. Wario's mother toiled away tirelessly each day from sunrise to sunset to grow and harvest as much garlic as she could possibly achieve.  Much of Wario's current strength and endurance can be attributed to helping his mom on the farm as a child, although the teeth-pulling task of getting him to actually work was almost as difficult as preventing him from eating all the garlic straight out of the ground.  Wario's nose for instant gratification has always been a thorn in his mother's side, but try as she might to instill a solid work ethic into the boy, her "get-rich-slow" schemes could never appeal to him.  Still, Wario enjoyed his surprisingly agrarian upbringing. Along with garlic, his mother also raised chickens for eggs, inspiring in Wario a lifelong soft spot for poultry.  (He also had a pet hamster named Fluffy, who sadly passed away in 1986.)

Today, Wario is still on good terms with his mother despite their physical distance, and frequent phone calls keep her updated on all of Wario's business successes.  Of course, being Wario, he heavily embellishes the amount of work he actually does at his company.  If she only knew...

[evilminji]

Here I sit, considering Blood Blossoms.

It can be safely assumed, that the species originally developed their Anti-ghost properties to drive HUMANS and other things with, well, SOULS? Away? But as some enterprising human likely did, was selectively bred for purely Anti-ghost properties.

As with most things in nature, we can only assume it was originally to allow for unfettered spread of its seeds. Likely even had an effect on other PLANTS, allowing it more soil in which to grow. A "Blight Blossom" if you will. Or "Life's Bane".

But! That is not what I wonder about.

I wonder about the OTHER end of the evolutionary niche. Like plants with berries, meant to entice birds and other animals into carrying their seeds to new and fertile grounds.

Are there Ghost ATTRACTING plants?

And I don't not mean, drugs, though that certainly WOULD be one means of attracting potentially symbiotic relationships. I mean plants that smell unusually good. TASTE good. Have developed around high ectoplasmic areas.

Do they only exsist in the Realms? Or are such plants possible to find in the living Realm?

If I found them, dug them up carefully, and transferred them to a brand new home, freshly built on untouched land... would it be haunted in short order? Or would the plants die, because the environment could no longer support them?

The most LIKELY contender to exsist? Would be some sort of extoplasmic berry. An EXTREMELY hardy and slow growing vine, that likely grows in places of high extoplasm. Such as old war zones, grave yards, old hospitals, and cities with particularly high death counts. Or Amity. Really, anywhere it can find a LOT of Ectoplasm.

I imagine the berries would literally glow. Like neon battery acid. Reminiscent of blackberry bushs with long creeping vines and hooking thorns. Darker, red black leaves.

DEEPLY lethal if the living ingested. The comparison to battery acid being not made lightly.

The berries, I imagine, would basicly be sugar water and ectoplasm. Sweet ecto. The plant "realizing" that ghosts need ectoplasm. If it HAS ectoplasm, they will come get it. And if the form the ectoplasm is pleasing? They will cultivate the plant to get more.

Because that's what it does. It passively gathers ectoplasm from the air, water, and soil.

Into a nice, neat, EDIBLE little treat.

After all, it's not like there's a hole to the Zone just lying around! Do you know how hard it is to luck out and find a natural portal? How are we to feed ourselves? Sit here and suck air?

Yes, the portal makes the plant effectively redundant. But! Much like pigeons? It doesn't stop EXISTING just because ghosts aren't using it now. Just going unharvested.

Which? Is probably why there are so many new ghost animals. They ARE berries after all. Danny should probably talk to people about that. It's irresponsible to just up an leave lethal fruit where humans might find it.

@hdgnj @nerdpoe @ailithnight @the-witchhunter

[gayelderstourney]

OLD MAN YAOI BRACKET ROUND 2

Propaganda:

Sheo/The Nailsmith:

It's really nice because you unlock it after the nailsmith asks you to kill him with the pure nail and you refuse and walk away. He then says he was wandering hallownest without purpose until he found sheo who helped him discover that there was more to life than just one calling. These two are probably the only characters in the game to have a genuinely happy ending

The nailsmith loses his purpose in life after finishing his ultimate masterpiece, his lifelong goal, the pure nail. He requests the protagonist to try the nail on him, but If you refuse, he will find sheo who helps him to find new meaning in life and realise that there is more to life by teaching him different crafts. They can then be seen sculping figurines together, and sheo is also painting the nailsmith.They share a common love for art and crafts and inspire each other. Sheo's story is that he was a nailmaster, but got tired of it, and put down his nail to pick up a paintbrush. I think it's beautiful that he could help the nailsmith realise what he himself did. They both also used to live in solitude without even realising how lonely they were, and I think it's cute tuhat they can do art together now :]

They are two bugs retired from their career and making better lives for themselves and they’re gay about it. Nailsmith believes at first that he has nothing left after creating the perfect nail and asks the knight to strike him down, and if you don’t, he meets Sheo, a retired nailmaster finding a new calling in painting and sculpting. They find a shared love in creating things and Nailsmith finds a new calling in art as well. The achievement you get for uniting them is called “Happy Couple”

Gay bugs gay bugs gay bugs (Cw mention of suicide) They both used to pursue their one passion in life: forging the perfect nail (sword) for the Nailsmith and the art of combat for Sheo. Sheo realized he could just leave that life when he lost his passion for fighting, and he found himself a new purpose in life: art. However, he always seemed very lonely, completely isolated by all other bugs in his hidden house in the middle of a thorn jungle. When The Nailsmith achieved his goal and forged the perfect nail, he lost his purpose in life and his will to live. He asks the player to kill him. However, if the player refuses, he can later be found in Sheo's house, modelling for Sheo or sculpting figurines with him. He thanks the player for not fulfilling his request, because he has found a new calling in life here, making art together with Sheo. They both express how happy they are to no longer be alone. This also gives you the "Happy Couple" achievement, confirming that they are a couple.

THEY'RE CANON!!! They're fucking canon!!! You can talk to them at one point after doing a Bunch of Stuff to get them to meet each other and you get an achievement called "Happy Couple"!!! Gotta love old man yuri

Jean-Luc Picard/Q:

theyre kind of the ogs. q fucked that old man for SURE. if they arent old enough for you in the next generation (1987-1984) they probably will be in picard (2020-2023). also when i went looking for the pic i included i googled “star trek picard q in bed” and there were actually multiple different instances of that happening that popped up

um it’s unclear what age Q is supposed to be in TNG but in Picard they’re both undeniably old as balls. Q has godlike powers that he just uses to hang out with this bald old man in increasingly strange and annoying ways. And call him “mon capitane” like a freak and materialize next to him in bed and say Good Morning Darling and lounge all over the Enterprise like a fruit anyways I think they’re abnormal and I like them

what if you were an all powerful nearly omnipotent being who has been worshipped as a god on planets across the farthest reaches of space and the first guy to just not give a shit about you makes you fall madly in love with him

I can’t get my thoughts clear right now but they mean so much to me. They’re meant to be with each other ok. the sequel to spirk. they would be canon if paramount werent COWARDS

if I were an entity as old as the universe itself and I kept visiting some old guy on a spaceship trying to justify the existence of humanity it would 100% be for gay reasons and Q understands this concept on an intimate level actually

[louebel]

— [ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒. ]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: trafalgar law × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 1,655 wc. mentions of the law novel and spoilers for his backstory, descriptions of his trauma, panic attacks, angst, hurt with comfort, law slowly tries to embrace his past, rushed + not proofread. divider by @ benkeibear. 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: law has a nightmare. he appreciates your comfort.

“Hnn..!”

It was one of those nights again.

Sweat tumbled down his temple. No source of light. The polar tang was deep in the abyss. Your soft snores. The blanket hooding you both.

His hands were shaky. His chest was pounding. His lips agape.

“U—uh…”

Just a dream. Just a dream. No.

Not a dream. Reality. The past. Their corpses. The ruins of his city. Bestowed upon him, the laments and dirges of Flevance. They chanted and howled, damned souls who shrieked and condemned the morose government, a newborn Canto VI; Dante’s most passionate inspiration. Mystical, a fantasy, but no dream it was. No, it was not.

If only it could be.

The repugnant fetor of sulfur and acrid smog, ingrained in his nostrils, the buzzing of the flies as he walked among the stench of methane. It was a remote remembrance, clear as a fragile vase of glass, one that would shatter over and over and make his sluggish heart weep, no matter how many times he fixed and carried it. A life torn piece by piece by what was, and is, the ruthless world.

Gone were the days he could live free from his mind, the faces of those he yearned to meet once more, nothing but an ignis fatuus, one that served heartache and warmth in unison. Acerbic, pungent, more than any fruit, acidic upon his tender skin, spilled upon his skull and dissolved it without an ounce of control.

His favorite comics brought dolor. What was formerly one of his dearest pages developed into the fuel of his insecurities, thoughts.

“Look, brother! Sora didn’t die! I told you he wouldn’t!”

His sister’s giggles, nebulous; muffled, lost in time.

“Is it clear, Law? If you’re uncertain, tell me, alright? I’ll explain it to you as many times as you need.”

His father’s lessons but a distant reminiscence.

“Like this, sweetie. You’re a fast learner! Look at you, my smart baby. Mommy’s always here.”

His mother’s delicate hands guiding him, now a phantom.

His childhood companions’ cheering whenever he scored the max on a test, quieter than the gale. The nun’s concerned gaze when he carried Lami and asked to bring her home when she got wounded, forever gone. Corazon’s clumsy scenes he wanted to see again. His smile.

“I love you, Law!”

All their unconditional love.

Love. Love.

He shut his eyes.

How much he craved it. Tore apart in a single night, shredded in another after so thoroughly rebuilding it. And now here he was, trying again. But oh, was it difficult. His breathing often faltered, one false move able to destabilize him. Reconstructing it with paper was an enterprise. A fragment given by each of the people he met — little ones by the citizens in Swallow Island, bigger ones by Wolf, Bepo, Penguin, Shachi, his crew, and what survived of his fractured history was utilized as a base. Yours was almost a blanket. It was a prodigious sheet.

They all supported themselves simultaneously. But it wobbled. A lot. Often he couldn’t manage it. Terrified, alone, as he watched all his efforts about to topple. But it never did.

“… Law?”

Oh no. He woke you up.

“Go to sleep.” It came almost like a snap — to not show he was suffering.

Just go to sleep. Don’t bother with him. Don’t.

“Well… now I won’t do that.” you groggily said, his fingers clenching as you propped yourself up with an elbow. “Nightmare?”

You couldn’t see him in the darkness, but he was still an open book. He couldn’t lie to you, nor did he want to. He tried his best to change his mannerisms and patterns.

You’re his partner. Not a stranger.

“Yeah.” he exhaled tremulously, thorns in his throat.

He heard the rustles, the heat of your frame radiating against his. He couldn’t see you, but he imagined you — feeling your massages and head upon his shoulder. It tickled his neck a little.

“Mh. Baby … it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Obscurity and death clutched him with crisp, meager bones and itching shadows. However, a minor light banished them all; tender, so generous. That sound, yours… Fleeting fingers and honeyed pampering.

His droopy and heavy eyelids fluttered open, those golden eyes that carried unspoken anguish all but courageous; what was a mask he got used to wearing now sunk in the void, crystal tears brimming and gushing down his visage, scrunched up and full of lineaments. Quakes wracked his body, hisses leaving his quivering lips.

“I—I…” Nothing came out. Yet your arms remained still around him.

“Sh … Slowly honey. Take your time. I’m here.”

Here. With him.

“I… I’m so sorry. So sorry. Please forgive me. Please.”

Oh, that poor, poor man … What did he do to deserve this? To experience a catastrophe?

“M—Mom… Dad…”

“Law, hey—”

“La—Lami, Cora… Cora-san..!” He couldn't stop. As one sob wrenched from his lungs, another came, and another, and another, and another. His spine twisted, facing down; curling against you, your lips on his brow.

"Law." You called him gingerly, smoothly, hugging him close. Don't let me go, was all he thought.

"It's not your fault. Never. It's okay. Shh… Honey, hey… It's okay baby, it's okay. You're okay. Shh… Look at me."

And he did. Your palms seemed so much more real. An opportunity, some place to run. A light.

"There we go. Good job sweetie. It's okay. You're okay. It's not your fault."

"… N—not …"

"Not your fault. Never your fault, sweetheart. Everything is okay."

"… Mh. Mmhm."

He responded, unable to form coherent sentences, and cradled you close like a lifeline — the only anchor in this storm. You held him just as tightly, grazing his tense, knotted back. He was shuddering so much.

"Good job. That's my Law. Shh…"

It hurt. It truly did. To catch him like this, to see him so bare. No child, person, should ever go through such horrible things — you remembered how you both cried when he opened up. That confidence he wore for all of his crew finally crumbling at the ounce of vulnerability the universe granted him.

Shachi and Penguin never mentioned it. They divulged tales about Swallow Island — but they kept quiet about Law's other past, respecting his privacy. Bepo was a bit more clumsy with his sayings, information slipping from his fangs before he could stop it. (He'd quickly cover his mouth, a little squeak escaping it.)

When Law revealed everything, it was chaotic. You both had an argument some hours before. You were shocked he didn't crumple in your arms.

Seldom you’ve seen him cry.

"They—they would've liked you," he mumbled between hiccups, the tinge of nostalgia palpable.

"Law…"

"I wish you could've met them. I- I really wish they were here." They’d be proud, wouldn’t they? He could’ve worked with his father. His mother. Lami would’ve been a wonderful nurse or a doctor. Corazon would have joined him.

In another life, perhaps. Now the Rose held them.

"I wish I could've met them, too. I know you miss them… But they're—" his skin molded under your pointing finger as you pressed right on his sweet, scarred heart, "—right here. Forever. They're proud of you. I know they are."

"… I … hope so." he believed so, too — but saying it felt too egoistic of him. If you knew, you’d knock his head. He could tell.

"No no, baby. They are. I'm proud of you, too. So proud. Okay?"

He breathed deeply, nodding slowly.

"Okay. Okay."

“Good. You’re getting better,” you assured him, and those words never felt more gratifying. He had to be kind to himself. Gentle. The mind is fragile. He hopes — no, he knows you’d forgive him for being harsh on himself before. He knows. He knows.

“I try. I do. It's so hard, though,” he sniffed, resting his forehead on yours, to feel your warmth, your breath, your vitality, his "Beatrice", “they went too soon, sometimes I wish I could’ve followed them.” he admits, and your eyes grow more compassionate.

“But … my friends. My crew. The people I’ve met. What my family would want, Corazon’s wish. You. I’m glad to be here,” he says, taking deep breaths between. He’s safe in your arms. He can go at his own pace.

“Are you glad to be alive?” Some might see your question as idiotic, but Law knows the difference.

“That … I cannot tell. Sometimes I still feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“Mh.”

It was rather quiet after that. Only your breathing and his. The stirring of your pajamas. The hushed buzzing of the submarine.

It was welcome, though.

“Change is complex,” he then spoke, looking at you with a glimpse of hope. “but … I’m willing to try. I have to. For the crew, for you, for—for me.”

Tranquility took him when you smiled, something unlocking in his spirit. It wasn’t onerous anymore.

“Good. Especially for you, honey. We appreciate you being so tough, truly, but…” you brushed your lips on his jaw and peppered soft, tiny kisses. “There's nothing wrong with being weak. We all are. If you fight it, it hurts. It’s just us. Our feeble little selves. Give yourself a break from time to time. You are doing well.”

Law deeply appreciated your snogs, his frantic heartbeat calming. You led him down onto the mattress again, covering both your forms with the blanket.

“Let go, honey. Cry. And don’t hold back. You’re safe now.”

Tender murmurs filled the night. Law's head rested in the crook of your neck. His frightened mourns eased, his restless limbs no longer a problem — caresses and soothing, calm words eased the poor child, who wanted nothing but to live in peace.

And so he reached Eden, your pious hand accompanying him to Paradiso.

[hanihazeljade]

Three Compliments

The disastrous day of Timothy Jackson Drake

(HHJ: I AM BACK! A LITTLE SLEEP DEPRIVED BUT NEVERTHELESS UPDATING THIS FIC! AND ALSO THIS FIC IS ALSO NOW IN AO3 FOR THE UPDATE ALERTS LMAO)

Start - Three Weeks

Prev - Three Pasts

Next - Three Sirens

It was such a lovely cold day on the 27th of December. The Wayne Manor was quietly sipping their morning beverage with a dash of bickering from Jason and Dick when a shout broke the peaceful vibe of the manor.

“Tamara Mildred Fox! I swear to god if you are using my lipstick, it is over! ”A loud voice breaks through the peace and calmness of the manor.

“It compliments my skin well.” A high-pitched voice answered back with a snort in the end.

“You are full of bullshit! I am pale as a sheet, and you are a buckwheat! ”

“Fine, it looks good on Pru though.”

A gasp was heard—an overly dramatic gasp. “What happened to bros before hoes?”

“Darling, I will choose Pru over you at any given time and day.”

“Such a lovely friend you are.”

Tim and Tam’s shouting match echoes through the halls of the east wing. After the Christmas Party, some people decide to stay at the overly large house of Batman and to sleep there, including the Fox’s. 

Tam was having a blast going through everything Tim had brought for the wedding. And she still couldn’t believe how much Tim could pack in one suitcase. There are three dresses, including Tim’s red Dior 1999 collection. There is a purple long gown with a high slit  and an olive green floral lace dress, and it was supposed to be floor length, but Tim made some adjustments to make the length to his ankle.

And with those dresses brought out from Tim’s suitcase, Tam wanted Tim to model those dresses, and with the help of Cass, who got wind of the situation in Tim's room, dragged Stephanie with her, and they decided to make Tim a mannequin.

Tim wants to say that he hated being dressed up and painted, but that was a big fat lie, as he was so relaxed having someone else to do the styling of his face and dresses. 

The night was such a beautiful memory for Tim, but the morning was not. It started when Tamara Fox decides to steal Tim’s favourite nude lipstick and decides to use the shade that looks atrocious with Tam’s skin colour. Colour Theory apparently. 

And that is how they got into their shouting match, with Tam and Tim laughing as they went out of manor to go shopping—what Tam said when Bruce asked where they would go. And that is a lie. Tim and Tam would go separate ways once they went to Wayne Enterprise. Tam would have her date with Pru; Tim is invited to hang out with them, but Tim rejects the idea of being third wheel. So, Tim just dropped Tam to be with Pru and will just find ways to entertain himself.

But it seems fate decided to spoil him a little when he saw Lex Luthor in the lobby of Wayne Enterprise and who Tim was to not grab the chance to mess around with his ex-archnemesis when it came to business back when he was the largest shareholder of Wayne Enterprise.

“Lex! It is so nice to see you here in Gotham!” Timothy greeted the bald man. Lex looks at him; a little bit of surprise and also amusement can be seen on his face if you know where to look.

“Timothy Drake, finally, someone that uses their head.” Lex grunted as he left the front desk and walked towards Tim. Timothy Jackson Drake to Lex Luthor is always has been a thorn in the side of LexCorp. However, Timothy Drake once was Wayne, is a refreshing sight in the business world. He might look young however has an mind of a veteran businessman. Lex was jealous of Wayne because he has the young Timothy as an heir and actually regret not snatching the young man when it was rumoured that Timothy left the company to hand it over to the youngest Wayne.

Lex might actually just have an heir if he just talked Timothy using this opportunity, Wayne already has a chance and yet he threw it away to the window, and who is Lex to not take that opportunity to have a wonderful and brilliant man to be his heir. And Conner and Tim has got along back everytime they met before.

Timothy immediately picked up Lex’s bad mood, “Why you seem so… annoyed Lex?” he asked the man.

“There has been a complication in scheduling for Wayne. It seems like they double-book, and I have to wait for yet another week.” 

“Want to have a coffee with me?” Tim proposes; after all, Timothy Drake and Lex Luthor have a rather pleasant relationship in terms of business appeal. Yes, they had a love-hate relationship when it came to stopping the other one from step into their territory, but it seems like Damian let Lex have reign in Gotham. A dumb decision in Tim’s opinion.

“Sure, since I am stuck here in this forsaken city without Mercy.” Now, normally Lex would not accept any invitations of anyone. But this city has been keeping up in it’s name and Lex has not anything going to his plan. Meeting Timothy is a nice surprise.

Timothy looked around and sure thing, Mercy, the bodyguard/secretary, is not with Lex. “Oh yeah, right. Where is Mercy?” he asked and he held out his arm as a gesture for Lex to follow him.

Luthor walked with him before answering, “She’s in the hotel, after she dropped me off at the Wayne Tower.”

“She needs to do something there? I barely remember seeing you without Mercy by your side.”

“Yes, she said she will handle the packing and as I have a flight to catch up in Rome.”

They arrive at the coffee shop and Tim ordered, “One banana soy frappe with a shot of espresso and extra whipped cream, and what is yours Lex?”

“One regular medium roast.” Lex curtly said and Tim just shrugged, internally judging the man to have such a basic palette. 

Timothy looked back at the cashier, “And one regular medium roast, please.”

“That will be $21.17.” The cashier said and Tim gave him his card and swipe it to pay both coffees. “Name please.”

“Timothy.” Tim said and lead Lex to a empty two seat table.

“It’s been so long since I saw you, Timothy.” Lex pathetic excuse of an ice breaker but Tim would not judge. Well, not openly, at least.

“Need peace with this city. A weekly prison break will not help me with my condition.” Timothy joked and chuckled.

Lex raised his brow, “I did not know you are sick.”

“Well, no. I am not that sick, just… burnout, I guess. My therapist told me that I should let go once in a while.” Timothy said as he tried his best to explain but also not give too much information to Lex, who knows what will Lex will do about it.

“You are seeking therapy?” Lex looked at him skeptically.

“Oh yes, apparently I was borderlining psychopathy and depression, apparently and I can’t have that.” Tim said as he knows it might be an information that a few knows, but he wants Lex to suddenly just slip it out if he was with the Waynes and just saw the chaos it will ensue and Tim would not be here if that happens.

“It seems like you did change. You are more free to said what is in your mind. Not unlike when you are handling Wayne’s company.”

“And here I thought, you hate that about me.”

“And I always told you that it was a likeable attitude of yours.”

“Hmm.”

And they let silence and the background to fill it, and then Tim’s name was called.

“Want to play chess?”

“Sure.”

[sapphicreadsdb]

Hi do you by chance have any sapphic fantasy recs? preferably adult fantasy but YA is fine too

sure! tho this could will get quite long... no links, sorry!, bc it was kicking up a fuss with those for some reason

+ = ya

pennyblade by j.l. worrad

lady hotspur by tessa gratton

sofi and the bone song by adrienne tooley (+)

she who became the sun by shelley parker chan

the scapegracers by h.a. clarke (+)

the third daughter by adrienne tooley (+)

the daughters of izdihar by hadeer elsbai

the malevolent seven by sebastien de castell

blackheart knights by laure eve

the warden by daniel m. ford

the unbroken by c.l. clark

dark earth by rebecca stott

witch king by martha wells

scorpica by g.r. macallister

the mirror empire by kameron hurley

now she is witch by kirsty logan

silverglass by j.f. rivkin

the woman who loved the moon and other stories by elizabeth a. lynn

...(this answer is how i discover there's a character limit per block so. doing this in chunks.)

fire logic by laurie j. marks

a restless truth by freya marske

when angels left the old country by sacha lamb (+)

the traitor baru cormorant by seth dickinson

an archive of brightness by kelsey socha

the bladed faith by david dalglish

the winged histories by sofia samatar

dragonoak by sam farren

the forever sea by joshua phillip johnson

into the broken lands by tanya huff

the jasmine throne by tasha suri

daughter of redwinter by ed mcdonald

the last magician by lisa maxwell (+)

the fire opal mechanism by fran wilde

...

the black coast by mike brooks

high times in the low parliament by kelly robson

foundryside by robert jackson bennett

the enterprise of death by jesse bullington

mamo by sas milledge (+)

from dust, a flame by rebecca podos (+)

uncommon charm by emily bergslien & kat weaver

wild and wicked things by francesca may

the unspoken name by a.k. larkwood

brother red by adrian selby

the final strife by saara el-arifi

way of the argosi by sebastien de castell (+)

the bone shard daughter by andrea stewart

ghost wood song by erica waters (+)

into the crooked place by alexandra christo (+)

ashes of the sun by django wexler

the midnight girls by alicia jasinska (+)

the midnight lie by marie rutkoski (+)

the never tilting world by rin chupeco (+)

water horse by melissa scott

...

a master of djinn by p. djeli clark

the good luck girls by charlotte nicole davis (+)

among thieves by m.j. kuhn

black water sister by zen cho

the velocity of revolution by marshall ryan maresca

sweet & bitter magic by adrienne tooley (+)

the dark tide by alicia jasinska (+)

the library of the unwritten by a.j. hackwith

a dark and hollow star by ashley shuttleworth (+)

the chosen and the beautiful by nghi vo

the councillor by e.j. beaton

these feathered flames by alexandra overy (+)

the factory witches of lowell by c.s. malerich

fireheart tiger by aliette de bodard

...

city of lies by sam hawke

bestiary by k-ming chang

the raven and the reindeer by t. kingfisher

the winter duke by claire eliza bartlett (+)

master of poisons by andrea hairston

the empress of salt and fortune by nghi vo

night flowers shirking from the light of the sun by li xing

down comes the night by allison saft (+)

wench by maxine kaplan (+)

girls made of snow and glass by melissa bashardoust (+)

girls of paper and fire by natasha ngan (+)

the impossible contract by k.a. doore

burning roses by s.l. huang

the house of shattered wings by aliette de bodard

not for use in navigation by iona datt sharma

weak heart by ban gilmartin

girl, serpent, thorn by melissa bashardoust (+)

the devil's blade by mark alder

...

we set the dark on fire by tehlor kay mejia (+)

the true queen by zen cho

moontangled by stephanie burgis

a portable shelter by kirsty logan

sing the four quarters by tanya huff

all the bad apples by moira fowley doyle (+)

the drowning eyes by emily foster

the priory of the orange tree by samantha shannon

miranda in milan by katharine duckett

the afterward by e.k. johnston (+)

thorn by anna burke

penhallow amid passing things by iona datt sharma

in the vanishers' palace by aliette de bodard

summer of salt by katrina leno (+)

the gracekeepers by kirsty logan

out of the blue by sophie cameron (+)

black wolves by kate elliott

the circle by sara b. elfgren & mats strandberg (+)

unspoken by sarah rees brennan (+)

thistlefoot by gennarose nethercott

passing strange by ellen klages

(and breathe)

[spacejellycreates]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns

You are a botanist on the USS Enterprise. On an away mission, you accidentally touch a poisonous plant and get very sick. Bones has to take care of you and find the cure.

Requested by @buglvr24 !!! I love you lozzer this was such a great idea

Tag list (Let me know if you would like to be added or removed!):

@fraudfrogz @wiggles-mcgee @nothoughtsgayboy @dobry-slimak

@emilytheghostwitch @shortergaything @bhawk-goose @thegeniusidiotnstickmerchant3728

@100percentevil @i-am-just-a-skeleton

[karafina]

Manga, books and authors mentioned in A Drunken Dream and Other Stories

I wrote the english names that were used in the book. Honestly the way I organized this gave me a headache but I hope it's useful <3 See more for the list of authors that were mentioned briefly.

Manga mentioned in the interview Mama’s Violin - Tetsuya Chiba Tomboy Angel - Mitsuteru Yokoyama Shinsengumi; Astro Boy - Osamu Tezuka Harp of the Stars; Hello, Teacher; The White Troika - Hideko Mizuno Mist, Roses and Stars - Shotaro Ishitani The Boy from Dartmoor - Nanae Sasaya In the Sunroom; The Song of the Wind and the Trees - Keiko Takemiya You Can Hear the Rain; Birth - Yumiko Oshima Norakuro - Suiho Tagawa The Rose of Versailles - Riyoko Ikeda

Mentioned in Rachel Thorn's essay Fuichin-san - Toshiko Ueda Tomorrow’s Joe - Tetsuya Chiba Eyes of Ice - Nanae Sasaya Aim for the Ace! - Sumika Yamamoto Toward the Terra; Fly Me to the Moon! - Keiko Takemiya Banana Bread Pudding; F-Shiki Ranmaru - Yumiko Oshima Two in a White Room; Arabesque; The Son of Heaven in the Land of the Rising Sun; Terpsichore - Ryoko Yamagishi Mari and Shingo; A Staff and Wings - Toshie Kihara

Books The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett Anne of Green Gables - Lucy Maud Montgomery Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm - Kate Douglas Wiggin Little Women - Louisa May Alcott Shank’s Mare - Ikku Jippensha The Currents of Space - Isaac Asimov The Generative Enterprise Revisited - Noam Chomsky Phantoms in the Brain - V.S. Ramachandran

There's notes at the end giving more context for these authors but I don't have it in me rn.

Interview: Miyako Maki Masako Watanabe Kazuo Umezu Sanpei Shirato Mineko Yamada Ryoko Yamagishi Jun Morita Yasuko Sakata Akiko Hatsu Shio Satoh Aiko Itoh Machiko Satonaka

Essay: Yoshiko Nishitani Minori Kimura Mineko Yamada Akira Mochizuki Sato Tomoe

Book authors: Kenji Miyazawa Jean Stratton-Porter Robert Heinlein Ryotaro Shiba Sawako Ariyoshi Herman Hesse Ray Bradbury Jean Cocteau Kenichiro Mogi

[treesspeaklatin]

Directory

My fics

Xedgin

Finding; a not so human Xenk discovering human feelings

Half-vampire!Edgin series; enemies to it's complicated

Romance in the time of LoveChat; romance writer!Ed and online dating AU

Xedgin in 100 words; drabble colletion

Edgin Darvis' last heist; breaking up and making up

AOS Spirk

5 wrong kisses (+1 right kiss); aliens made them kiss

It's the most wonderful time of the year; winter holidays and family drama

An elegant solution series; Vulcan Reform arranged marriage

Ri va'ne; cadet!Kirk and Vulcan strip clubs

5 people confused by the relationship between Kirk and Spock (+1 person who understood it); queerplatonic/ambiguous slash

Crawl home to him; not really character death (?), mutual pining

TOS Spirk

A heart even more your own; Persuasion AU

How to find the perfetc partner for your Vulcan, a compendium by James T. Kirk; old (almost) married spirk

Mirror Spirk

A Thorn in his side; Kirk "haaaates" Spock

5 bad days aboard the ISS Enterprise; denial of feelings and humor

Other Trek

Trektober 2023; oneshot collection; AOS-TOS-mirror spirk, spones, mckirk, mcspirk & others

No masters or kings (when the ritual begins); mcspirk aliens made them do it, pining

Fic recs

Spirk 1, 2

Mcspirk 1

[forthwarner]

the closer you think you are, the less you'll actually see...

WARNER é um extraordinário que atende pelo codinome FOUR. Nasceu no dia 4 de abril de 1994, às 4h44min. Tem a habilidade de ficar intangível. Ele tem quatro cachorros: Danado, Canhão, Soneca e Nuvem. Mataria por eles.

É o quarto descendente direto do maldito Kushner Grayson, antigo criminoso de guerra que acabou acumulando uma fortuna atuando como assassino de elite por longas três décadas. Por ventura, o desgraçado também é atualmente um dos grandes investidores da Stargate Enterprise.

A lealdade de Warner se dá unicamente aos seus cães, por ora. Tem uma moral amplamente ambígua, agindo sempre de acordo aos próprios princípios. Faz o que tem que ser feito. E quanto ao derramamento de sangue, preza exclusivamente em derramar os dos semelhantes de seu pai — a quem ele prometeu uma morte longa e dolorosa.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Ele tem a capacidade de atravessar matéria sólida ao reorganizar suas partículas atômicas para passar pelos espaços entre os átomos de um objeto. Esse poder permite que ele: ✔ Atravesse paredes, portas e barreiras físicas sem resistência. ✔ Evite ataques físicos e balísticos ao se tornar intangível no momento certo. ✔ Funde-se temporariamente a objetos sem interagir com eles. ✔ Torne-se um fantasma momentâneo, esgueirando-se sem ser detectado.

Adaptação: 09/10 Atenção e observação: 08/10 Força física: 07/10 Sociabilidade: 02/10 Estabilidade emocional: 05/10 Estratégia: 07/10 Oratória: 02/10

Inspirações: Kitty Pryde de X-Men, John Wick, Kenji Kishimoto (Estilhaça-me), Quatro (Divergente) e Emily Thorne (Revenge).

Como Técnico da Mansão Umbra, Warner atua principalmente como instrutor de artes marciais, sendo responsável por treinar discípulos no combate físico e no uso estratégico de suas habilidades. Ele ensina não apenas técnicas de luta corpo a corpo, mas também métodos para aprimorar reflexos, resistência e disciplina, tornando seus alunos mais letais e preparados para missões reais. Além disso, ele participa ativamente das operações da Mansão, cumprindo o requisito de realizar ao menos um ataque a cada dois anos, o que ele encara como uma obrigação enfadonha, mas necessária para manter seu lugar. Apesar de sua competência e respeito conquistado entre os extraordinários, Warner tem uma relação ambígua com seu papel na Mansão. Ele não sente uma verdadeira lealdade a Larc Crimson ou ao propósito vilanesco da instituição. Para ele, a Mansão é apenas um meio para aprimorar suas próprias habilidades e reunir forças para sua vingança contra Kushner Grayson e a Stargate. Ele segue as regras, cumpre suas tarefas e treina discípulos, mas nunca se envolve emocionalmente com a causa, mantendo sempre um olhar cético sobre tudo o que acontece ao seu redor. O peso de ser um instrutor, no entanto, o afeta de formas inesperadas. Ele percebe em alguns discípulos a mesma dor e revolta que ele mesmo sentiu no passado, e isso o faz se conectar, mesmo que de forma discreta, com alguns deles. Embora Warner tente manter uma postura indiferente, ocasionalmente se pega investindo mais tempo e esforço do que deveria em determinados alunos, especialmente aqueles que demonstram potencial, mas também uma carga emocional que ele reconhece. Esse envolvimento, no entanto, o irrita, pois o faz perceber que, apesar de toda sua frieza aparente, ele ainda se importa mais do que gostaria. Warner lida com essa contradição da única forma que sabe: fingindo que nada disso o afeta. Ele continua sorrindo, sendo sarcástico e brincalhão, ocultando qualquer conflito interno. Seu comportamento na Mansão é de alguém que cumpre suas funções com excelência, mas que, no fundo, nunca deixa de se sentir um estranho naquele ambiente. Ele sabe que, se surgir uma oportunidade que o beneficie mais do que a Mansão, ele partirá sem hesitar. Afinal, seu verdadeiro objetivo sempre esteve longe dali.

 ⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Ⅰ. Durante seus primeiros anos de vida, Warner viveu basicamente sob os cuidados de Bruce, o mordomo da família, que se tornou uma figura paterna para ele. Bruce, apesar de ser uma presença constante e cuidadosa, também era limitado em sua capacidade de dar a Warner o tipo de atenção emocional que ele necessitava. Bruce teve que ser firme e muitas vezes afastar Warner de suas tendências de se apegar a tudo e a todos, como animais de rua que ele trazia para casa, tentando preencher o vazio emocional de sua vida. Isso causou grande angústia no garoto, que sentia uma necessidade constante de conectar-se com seres vivos, uma tentativa inconsciente de encontrar algum tipo de afeto que faltava em sua casa.

Ele tem uma relação extremamente conturbada com seus irmãos, devido às escolhas que eles fizeram ao seguir o mesmo caminho sombrio do pai. Os irmãos, embora não compartilhem do nível de brutalidade de Kushner Grayson, optaram por seguir a herança familiar e continuar a trajetória de poder, influência e manipulação. Para Warner, essa decisão foi uma quebra irreparável de confiança e lealdade. Ele os vê como cúmplices do pai, e isso gerou uma rejeição completa de sua parte.

Desde a adolescência, Warner se afastou deles, sentindo-se traído e incapaz de tolerar a ideia de que estivessem confortáveis com os valores e atitudes que ele repudia. Sua visão sobre eles é fria e distante, considerando-os responsáveis pela perpetuação da corrupção que domina sua família. O sentimento de traição é tão forte que ele os rejeita completamente, deixando claro que, para ele, a lealdade à figura de Kushner Grayson é inaceitável e irreversível.

Ⅱ. A relação de Warner com seu pai, Kushner Grayson, é marcada por ódio e desprezo profundos. Desde jovem, Warner percebeu que seu pai nunca se importou verdadeiramente com ele, nem com sua família. Kushner foi um homem que sempre priorizou sua carreira criminosa e seus próprios interesses, deixando de lado qualquer responsabilidade paterna ou afeto. A morte de sua mãe, que foi sequestrada e assassinada por mercenários que caçavam seu pai, é a grande ferida emocional de Warner. O patriarca dos Graysons nunca fez qualquer esforço para resgatar a mulher que ele dizia amar, e essa indiferença foi o ponto de ruptura entre eles. Kushner, por sua vez, nunca se mostrou arrependido ou preocupado com o impacto de suas ações no filho. Ele mantém uma postura de desdém e indiferente até mesmo para com as tentativas de Warner de confrontá-lo. Embora Warner tenha tentado se distanciar emocionalmente de tudo o que seu pai representa, o desejo de vingança nunca o abandonou. A relação entre eles é um ciclo de desprezo e rejeição, com Warner vendo em seu pai tudo o que ele mais detesta e, ao mesmo tempo, alimentando uma obsessão pela justiça.

Ⅳ. Por volta de seus 17 anos, já muito perdido e com o coração fechado para qualquer tipo de vínculo afetivo, Warner começou a desenvolver uma busca insaciável por controle e estabilidade, algo que ele sentia faltar em sua vida. Sua entrada na Mansão Umbra, aos 18 anos, foi uma tentativa de afastar-se da dor emocional que o consumia e de buscar a oportunidade de encontrar uma nova identidade, longe da sombra de seu pai e dos traumas do passado. A Mansão, com sua proposta de treinamento e desenvolvimento de habilidades, ofereceu a Warner a chance de reinventar-se e colocar em prática a vingança que planejava contra seu pai e a organização de que ele fazia parte, a Stargate.

Ⅴ. Apesar de seu poder, ele se especializou em artes marciais como Krav Magá e Kickboxing, tornando-se um combatente excepcional em situações físicas. Ele utiliza essas habilidades com precisão letal, especialmente quando precisa defender-se ou atacar com eficiência em combate corpo a corpo.

Ⅵ. Warner possui uma mente afiada e estratégica. Ele é capaz de analisar situações complexas, antecipar movimentos e calcular o que precisa ser feito em momentos de alto risco. Além disso, é um jogador nato de xadrez, o que indica não apenas sua habilidade de pensar em múltiplas camadas, mas também sua paciência e habilidade para esperar o momento certo para agir.

[divinekangaroo]

Season 1 Episode 1: Freddie Thorne's bedside table.

Half smoked, hand-rolled cigarettes? Unlikely to be pot in the 1920s (but allow me my interpretative indulgence in modern AUs), hand-rolled cigarettes were working class, being cheaper than packet ciagrettes, plus you could stretch the tobacco pouch/tin out further by making the ciagrettes really thin. Hand-rolling was also linked to countercultures and bohemian/artist lifestyles in the way pot is/was.

Freddie starts to smoke them then puts them out long before the heat hits his fingertips. And the cigarette he lights up after he and Ada finish having sex - first for Ada and then for him - are factory produced ones, so either someone else has been smoking the rollies in his bed, or let's assume Freddie instead takes Ada's higher quality cigarettes (which are smuggled by the Shelby enterprise) every chance he gets.

War and Revolution by Leon Trotsky, written (best I can find) in 1922 - so at least one year asychronous with PB's S1 blurred start date. If we assume Freddie and Tommy were both following Trotsky's writings closely pre war, in the lead up to the war, and during the war, it starts to get sharply pronounced how Freddie and Tommy were likely to diverge. I've assumed Freddie was without a support structure or much family (only the mother mention) because of how much worse off than the Shelbys he was shown. Tommy acts to protect, but Freddie *had* nothing to protect. During the war, Tommy loses all faith in any ideals, Communism or Catholicism; Freddie leans much harder into those ideals which speak to who he is. Trotsky's writings around the start of the war also give some suggestion as to one of the many influences around that might have increased their desire to sign up so early: reading the Trotsky works, I can well imagine a more idealistic Tommy (which, if I have the timing right, Greta dies, Tommy 'heads out' in some kind of grief to get away, he has his liaison with Zelda who conceives Duke, and almost immediately after, Tommy then conscripts) and a fervent Freddie being the drivers for the first tranche of Birmingham boys who signed up. (Tommy also calls Danny 'comrade'.) Here's a summary of Trotsky's WWI writings.

You know what Tommy's like. Yeah, Freddie says, I know what Tommy's like. Likes to take his fight out onto the (?mat?), doesn't like to stand and wait.

One day me and Tommy will be on the same side again. Which Freddie says in direct response to Ada saying sometimes it's like you're with me just to show you can. (Fascinating non-sequiter Freddie.) I do like to imagine that both conscripted for the same reasons, and then neither of them realised the other was drifting hard in the other direction during the war, Freddie to that radicalisation and Tommy to disillusionment; that the realisation and fragmentation of their friendship only occurred at some point after the return to England.

The scene then cuts immediately to Tommy and his opium pipe, and his dream of him, Danny and Freddie in the tunnel. Tommy wakes in terror, and immediately looks out his bedroom window at the police walking by. There's a certain density of Tommy's anxiety: he hates waiting, Freddie says. They had to wait in the Tunnel. The Tunnel dreams are all about the terror of the waiting. And in S1, Tommy is waiting, sitting on the guns. The overwhelming weight of Tommy's anxiety, he who hates waiting and if the fight has to happen wants to bring the fight, is quite sharply contrasted with Freddie's near uncaring and almost looking for a fight.

And then the scene cuts to Danny breaking down even more obviously, fighting as a trauma reaction, without knowing who he's fighting or why, only in fear.

-

The other thing that always interested me was Tommy sending Danny home to his wife after Danny's first on-screen breakdown. This burden that the wives carry after the war; I remember that comment stood out even when I was doing my half-arsed first watch, oh, of course, expect the wife to carry it all. This sense of what the wives carry through all of the seasons, right to S6 and what is asked of Linda (who takes money for it) and Lizzie (who finally leaves).

.

Obligatory height/size difference shot. The water where Tommy contrives Danny's execution and resurrection, and by all implication, somehow set aside Danny's PTSD with that act as Danny resumed a new life in London without the episodes he was having in Birmingham. The all-healing gunshot to the head.

[tomoleary]

Frank Thorne "You will be visited by only two spirits... The third one thinks he might get laid tonight." Jacob Marley confronts Ebenezer Scrooge Playboy Magazine Single-Panel Cartoon Original Art (HMH Publishing & Playboy Enterprises, 1990s)

[docgold13]

Batman: The Animated Series - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Rupert Thorne

A powerful and ruthless crime boss, Rupert Thorne muscled his way into the Gotham City and swiftly took control over a large section of the criminal underworld.  Edging out former kingpins, Arnold Stromwell and Salvatore Valestra, Thorne’s enterprises ranged from narcotics to racketeering, money laundering, gambling and weapons smuggling.  Although his criminal endeavors were well known to the public, the corruption within Gotham's justice system kept Thorne in his penthouse and the authorities off his back.

District Attorney Harvey Dent was determined to put an end to Thorne’s grip on the city.  Dent’s dogged pursuit of Thorne became even more relentless as he was campaigning for reelection as District Attorney.  Dent was getting close and Thorne became desperate to put a stop to it.  

Thorne attempted to blackmail Dent after his agent had pilfered the medical notes from Dent’s psychiatrist.  Dent was contending with rather severe psychological difficulties and Thorne threatened to expose this to the public unless Dent agreed to drop all investigations into his enterprises.  Dent refused and a scuffle broke out wherein Dent was caught in an explosion that terribly scared half of his face.  All this resulted in the creation of the villainous Two-Face.  And Two-Face would prove an even greater threat to Rupert Thorne than Dent had ever been.   

A new breed of criminal was encroaching on Thorne’s territory.  Villains like Two-Face, The Penguin and The Joker were substantially cutting into his profit margins and The Batman was a near constant threat to his whole organization.  Determined to wrestle back control, Thorne hired the mercenary known as Bane to break the Bat and ostensively reseat Thorne atop the criminal empire.  

The plot failed, Batman triumphed over Bane and Thorne’s hold on power became even more tenuous.  In desperate need of cash, Thorne agreed to pool resources with The Penguin and the mob enforcer Carlton Duquesne in a venture to sell high tech weapons to the war-torn nation of Kasnia.  

The operation was taken down by Batman along with the mysterious new heroine, Batwoman.  Duquesne was convinced to testify against Thorne and the once untouchable gangster was sentenced to life in prison at Stonegate Penitentiary.   

The wonderfully intimidating John Vernon provided the voice for Rupert Thorne, with mobster first appeared in the sixth episode of the first season of Batman: The Animated Series, ‘It’s Never Too Late.’  

[landboundstar-writing]

Trade Secrets Part 22

Repost from main blog and AO3. Please tip if you like this And reblog.

Easter brunch at the Wayne Tower.

I looked at the circular tables, chairs draped with cream fabric, and the chandelier in the center, still the same as my first trip here.

A lot had changed since Thomas had brought me here the first time. It was Wayne Enterprises rather than Wayne Industries on the entrance to the tower. I had Zatanna with me now. And Thomas and Martha were gone.

But this sight, with people moving, chatting and talking around trays of food, it was like the first time I saw it.

"Thank you for coming."

Matthew Thorne shook hands with me and Zatanna.

"Leslie and I are waiting with some of the others."

Zatanna bit back a yawn and blushed.

Matthew chuckled. "I feel the same way. I just got off of work three hours ago."

We wound through the tables until we found Leslie, sitting in a flowery dress, flanked by Selina and Harvey.

Selina, I was sure, had no problem getting permission to go to brunch. It almost was a surprise to see Harvey, but I figured that Mr. And Mrs. Dent were either too inebriated or hungover to worry about their son's whereabouts yet. And if they were, on some chance sober, I had a feeling they would not be able to win an argument against Alfred, no matter how much they might have an issue.

I didn't ask Harvey if he had permission to be here. I saw no good coming from embarrassing the boy. 

"Can I have cappucino, Dad?" Zatanna asked. She was still tired from going to the vigil Mass with me the night before, but when we had gotten the invitation to brunch and why, she had been determined to go to both. And after trying my cappucino a month before, it had become a new favorite treat. With pastries.

"Sounds reasonable to me." The deep bass chuckle came from a man I thought I had met before, as he sat down at our table, his own coffee in hand.

Leslie shook her head. "Lucius, I swear you run on coffee sometimes."

"No, I swear without coffee. There's a difference." He looked over at me, and extended a hand. "I know you're Giovanni Zatara and that must be your daughter Zatanna, but you and I have only met in passing. Lucius Fox. Nice to see you again."

I shook hands with him.

"Nice to see you again too."

Plates clattered. Someone laughed and called their friends over. And we sat, talking and eating.

It almost felt normal.

Almost.

Except for one detail.

"I'm sorry we're late."

Bruce's voice was quiet, almost a murmur, and his cheeks were reddening.

Rachel squeezed Bruce's hand before sitting next to her father.

"Take your time," Alfred encouraged.

And nobody complained or argued.

Because this was why we were here.

Bruce had not gone to Easter brunch since his parents had died, and it had been such an important piece of their family history. Bruce had been trying to reclaim some of his family traditions throughout his therapy, with varying success, according to Alfred, and sometimes Bruce shared his progress with this as well.

This was the third attempt at going to Easter brunch for Bruce. And he had gotten in the door and to the tables.

Bruce sat, breathing deeply, with his hand on the table, slowly tapping a rhythm as he breathed for a few minutes. Four taps for a breath in. Fifteen taps for a breath out.

"Do you want to stay?" Alfred asked quietly.

Bruce nodded.

"I'll go get a plate," Matthew offered and pushed away from the table. 

The tapping continued and I poured a glass of water and put it on the table.

After two more rounds of tapping, Bruce stopped, shaking hands grabbing the water to take a drink. 

Matthew returned, quietly handing the plate to Alfred rather than reaching across the table.

The quiet reply Bruce made was almost inaudible in the busy room, and took him two tries.

But he got the words out.

"Thank you."

Selina reached over and squeezed Bruce's hand as she talked with Zatanna, and I had to blink quickly to try to deal with suddenly teary eyes.

It was just Easter brunch at Wayne Tower. Like a dozen others I had been to.

And different than any of the others I had been to.