#alfred bellows

[seerstella]

them!!!

[itsmeizumine]

now i have a device to art again 😈😈😈

but no, seriously; pls enjoy what i managed to recover regarding this fixation (which isn't hyper anymore at this point, but it won't ever really go away) from my previous computer – unfortunately it has, at last, kicked the bucket and left this realm for good (+13 years in the family, you will be dearly missed my friend ✊😔😭🙏)

i still revisit their designs from time to time, finicking with parts of it; and there's stuff solely on paper that i now have the means to photograph and show you all. it will be slow going but it IS coming up soon, rest assured. that's all i've wanted to tell, really. to y'all'ses attention – much obliged *bows*

[thequietabsolute]

A poet is what he is in himself. Gertrude Stein used to distinguish between a person who is an 'entity' and one who has an 'identity.' A significant man is an entity. Identity is what they give you socially. Your little dog recognizes you and therefore you have an identity. An entity, by contrast, an impersonal power, can be a frightening thing. It's as T. S. Eliot said of William Blake. A man like Tennyson was merged into his environment or encrusted with parasitic opinion, but Blake was naked and saw man naked, and from the center of his own crystal. There was nothing of the 'superior person' about him, and this made him terrifying. That is an entity. An identity is easier on itself. An identity pours a drink, lights a cigarette, seeks its human pleasures, and shuns rigorous conditions. The temptation to lie down is very great.

— Saul Bellow, from Humboldt’s Gift

pg., 311

[creativesplat]

Fell Xenologue Alfred.

[100-art]

Most Famous Contemporary Artists

2/8/2024 ♦ Framed Poster Print ♦ Canvas Print ♦ Metal Print ♦ Acrylic Print ♦ Wood Prints 🌐 Worldwide shipping

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake’s Coworkers (ft. The Fenton Family)

It’s not that Tim doesn’t like the Batfamily. He tolerates them just fine. Damian is great for sparring (if you like sparring with a tiny murder machine), and Jason’s brand of dark humor isn’t too bad once you get used to it. Dick’s a bit too much sometimes, but overall? Fine. Totally fine.

But the thing is… they’re just his coworkers.

And it never really clicks for the Bats until Danny Phantom joins the Justice League and everything starts unraveling.

———

The revelation comes during a League meeting. They’re strategizing about some ghost-related chaos, and Danny floats into the Watchtower, bright and glowing.

“Oh, hey, Tim,” Danny greets casually, giving him a little wave.

Tim doesn’t even look up from his tablet. “Sup.”

Superman looks between them, confused. “…you two know each other?”

Danny grins. “yeah, he’s my brother.”

Dead silence.

“WHAT?!” Bruce’s bellow shakes the entire room.

Tim finally looks up, unfazed. “What? Did you think I just spawned into existence?”

“You have a brother?!” Clark sputters.

“Two siblings, actually,” Tim corrects, utterly nonchalant. “Danny’s the younger one. Jazz is the older one. She’s great. Super organized. Kept me alive in middle school.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Why—why am I only learning this now?”

Tim shrugs. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Relevant?” Diana repeats, incredulous. “You’re the brother of Danny Phantom and it’s not relevant?”

Danny, who’s been munching on some ectoplasm candy, jumps in: “Honestly, Tim’s always been kind of private about his personal life. We just figured it was his way of coping with the whole ‘raised-by-rich-neglectful-aunt’ thing.”

“Yeah, about that,” Tim interjects, glaring at Danny. “Thanks so much for dumping me with Aunt Janet, by the way.”

Danny shrugs sheepishly. “Mom and Dad panicked! They thought you’d get ghost-napped next!”

“Uh, correction: Aunt Janet left me to raise myself, so that plan was awesome.”

Bruce, trying to keep up, interrupts: “Hold on. Your parents left you with Janet Drake?”

“They didn’t know she sucked at raising kids,” Tim deadpans. “And to be fair, they did call. A lot. I just didn’t pick up.”

Jason, who has been cackling this entire time, leans forward. “Wait, wait, wait—so you’re telling me that the Replacement’s entire family is a bunch of ghost hunters?”

“Yup.” Danny pops the “p” with a grin.

“You’re kidding me,” Steph says, borderline hysterical.

Tim sighs, clearly over it. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Jazz keeps the parents in check, Danny handles the ghost stuff, and I… stay out of the way. It’s fine.”

“FINE?” Damian glares. “Drake, you’ve been fraternizing with ghost hunters while working with a vigilante group, and you think that’s fine?”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Dami, chill. It’s not like it affects work. You’re my coworkers. They’re my family. Separate categories.”

Cue collective Batfamily malfunction.

———

Later, Danny is chilling in the Batcave, feet kicked up on the Batcomputer, chatting with Alfred. The rest of the Bats are still spiraling.

“Tim, we’ve lived together for years!” Dick exclaims, sounding genuinely hurt. “How are we only your coworkers?”

“You’re not my family,” Tim explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Danny and Jazz are my family. You guys are my teammates. It’s different.”

Jason throws his head back, laughing. “Oh my god, Replacement, you’re stone cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Tim argues. “I just don’t think we need to make it more complicated than it is. We work together. That’s enough.”

Meanwhile, Danny is wiping tears of laughter off his face. “Oh man. Jazz is gonna love this.”

[merletka]

Collaborated with amazing writer @alexcors and illustrated her fanfic about Damian Wayne. You can read it bellow! 💚

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

– Concussion, multiple beatings, fracture of the collarbone, two ribs and the radius of the right arm, with multiple fragments. Do you have anything to say to that, Robin?

– This dealer raised his hand himself, covering his worthless face. What?

– You beat the suspect to a pulp! Batman barked at his son. – No patrols until Cantelli is transferred from the intensive care unit to the general ward.

– But…

– That's all.

Damian clenched his teeth, but at the last moment decided not to fight with his father over a small dealer. Cantelli wasn't worth it. And therefore, having drowned himself, the boy just fell asleep.

***

The morning began with the usual five o'clock wake-up, a workout with pruning the squalid park art that Damian disapproved of in his garden. And he was already tired of explaining to Pennyworth that the enemy could be hiding behind large figures! Then a walk with Titus on a leash, Alfred the cat on his shoulder (because the mustachioed one did not want to wake up in any way) and a red-haired squeaking lump in his hands.

The kitten was dragged by a Red Hood a couple of days ago, startling Damian at first by pronouncing his full name without hesitation (few people in the family could pronounce Hafid ibn Ksufash Dami al Ghul even from the third time), and then by an attack of compassion for the animal. However, the boy quickly recovered from the shock, named the red kitten Roy Harper and now did not miss the opportunity to tease brother with the phrase "You gave me your accomplice, Todd."

By eight in the morning, Damian had time to check on the bat cow, comb Goliath, lose the nimble red Harper and find him sleeping peacefully in the cowshed. In general, Batman's heir successfully redid all his affairs, even phoned each Teen Titan individually and gave valuable instructions. On little things like different time zones, young Wayne habitually waved his hand, and everyone also grabbed a moral slap on the back of the head for trying to be indignant:

– Do it, Beast!

– Buzz me here again, Bug!

– The aliens were not given a word.

– Witch!

Damian belatedly realized that arguing with Raven was not worth it, because the importance of portals to any part of the world is difficult to overestimate. Fortunately, he knew about the weakness of every member of his team, and in Raven's case, it was sweets. Especially his sweets, with honey and spicy notes, which the girl fell in love with from the first bite. He will have to share again… She's definitely a witch!

At nine o'clock sharp, Pennyworth served breakfast, with tea in fine china, brown sugar, a slice of lemon and... an envelope?

- You have received an invitation, Master Damian.

- It's not interesting, - the boy muttered, finished with the meal and dryly told him not to disturb him. He was going to decide the fate of the world here, and they came with some kind of invitations!

However, the plan to destroy all (crossed out) almost all people did not come to mind, but the world itself lay perfectly on paper with watercolor paints, fortunately the view from the window was conducive to this. Up to a certain point.

– Todd!

- Hello to you too, Gremlin, - the Red Hood replied, climbing into his brother's bedroom through the window, while unsuccessfully clinging to the tulle with the toe of his boot.

- Pennyworth will bury you for this.

– Yes, yes, and will plant roses from above. Not that I mind much, but that's not the point right now. Get ready to go out.

Damian took a deep breath and unleashed his entire supply of Arabic obscenities on his brother, knowing full well that Jason would understand him. Unfortunately, the pressure of the negativity did not take him back out the window, he had to take up a katana.

– Put the skewer down, shorty, the meat has just been sent to marinate.

– Will you leave on your own or will you be thrown out in parts?!

– Shut up and listen to me, - Todd barked, casually showing off his pistols with the safety off. – In short, Alfie organizes a family get-together, with meat and without a fight. Dad promised to be, I'll bring a replacement, the Gotham crime storm in a thong will come running himself. You got the simplest thing – to lift your little ass off the chair and walk to the place. You can take the menagerie with you.

- I'm not going to any gatherings with my father," Damian muttered, but he put away his saber. – So you can get out and report your failed mission. I'm not leaving my room today, basically!

- No questions,– Jason agreed surprisingly easily. - But if you walk out the door, you're going to hang out with everyone, okay?

– Tt.

–That's settled,– Jason grinned, ducked out the window and disappeared.

Damian managed to exhale with relief, when suddenly something buzzing flew over the windowsill. Titus reacted first, barking loudly at the wasp's nest rolling on the floor!

- You're dead, Todd! - Damian yelled, unceremoniously grabbing the cat and rushing out the door with him and the dog.

***

- No corpses,– Grayson repeated calmly but firmly (for the fifth time!).

- I'll beat him up so that no Lazarus Pit will help, - the boy grumbled into the phone, the call to which stopped him from righteous revenge.

– Alfred said it clearly, without a fight. Let's get together with the whole family, have a nice time, have a delicious meal.

– Tt.

– We have chosen a picturesque place by the lake, you will like it.

–Okay, - the Batman heir finally gave up. – But only because painting was part of my plans today.

– It's wonderful, – judging by the sound, Dick broke into his trademark smile. – You will draw a beautiful landscape.

– I'll paint it! Artists paint with paints, you idiot.

– And I love you, little brother.

– Tt.

Author: @alexcors

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #10: Inter-Dimensional Bake-Off

Alfred was checking the mail the manor had received that day when he found it. In between bills, fan mail, and company missives was a regal purple envelope addressed to one Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth. Intrigued, Alfred set aside the rest of the mail and sat to open the letter.

Inside was a high quality cardstock invitation of a metallic silver color decorated with luxurious midnight green script. It declared on the front:

“You Are Cordially Invited”

Alfred raised an eyebrow and flipped open card.

Dear, Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth You have been cordially invited to participate in the first annual inter-dimensional bake-off to celebrate the coronation of the young, King Phantom, age 21, Ruler of the Infinite Realms, the Great One, Protector of Souls, Keeper of Peace, The Perfect Balance, The Infinite King, Ancient of Space and Reality. We have discerned that you are among the top 25 bakers in the 11 most stable and prominent dimensions with an open connection to the Infinite Realms. Thus, we would like to offer you the opportunity to show off and test your skills against talented competitors. Should you accept, all transport, accommodation, amenities, materials, and potentially needed medical care shall be provided by the King and his court. If you would like to bring any specific ingredients or tools you are welcome to file a request for them when you arrive and they shall be summoned to you at the start of the competition. You are allowed one plus one either as an assistant or moral support. Should you have any questions please write them down and place them on the sigil on the next page and recite the incantation bellow: “bonvolu respondi mian demandon” The event shall occur in a fortnight upon the weekend before the kings official coronation ceremony. In order to confirm your participation in the competition please burn this letter with one of your most recently made baked goods. In order to decline simply dissolve this message under running water. Please confirm your attendance or absence within a week’s time. Kind Regards, the Council of Ancients Advisors to the Good King Phantom

Well, it seemed like Alfred had earned a place in a rather prestigious event. ‘It seems a finally have a reason to make use of all those vacation days Master Bruce keeps insisting I must utilize.’ He smiled to himself, tucking the letter into his pocket. ‘I wonder if Master Jason would be amicable to accompanying me for a weekend of baking in a magical dimension?’

~ Just in case anyone has trouble reading the letter:

Dear, Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth You have been cordially invited to participate in the first annual inter-dimensional bake-off to celebrate the coronation of the young, King Phantom, age 21, Ruler of the Infinite Realms, the Great One, Protector of Souls, Keeper of Peace, The Perfect Balance, The Infinite King, Ancient of Space and Reality. We have discerned that you are among the top 25 bakers in the 11 most stable and prominent dimensions with an open connection to the Infinite Realms. Thus, we would like to offer you the opportunity to show off and test your skills against talented competitors. Should you accept, all transport, accommodation, amenities, materials, and any potentially needed medical care shall be provided by the King and his court. If you would like to bring any specific ingredients or tools you are welcome to file a request for them when you arrive and they shall be summoned to you at the start of the competition. You are allowed one plus one either as an assistant or moral support. Should you have any questions please write them down and place them on the sigil on the next page and recite the incantation bellow: “bonvolu respondi mian demandon” The event shall occur in a fortnight upon the weekend before the kings official coronation ceremony. In order to confirm your participation in the competition please burn this letter with one of your most recently made baked goods. In order to decline simply dissolve this message under running water. Please confirm your attendance or absence within a week’s time. Kind Regards, the Council of Ancients Advisors to the Good King Phantom

The Esperanto translates to “please answer my question"

Edit: now with possible contestants

[adrixivy]

No but imagining the batkids scattering away from a situation gotta be the most hilarious shit ever after Bruce caught them doing something they’re not supposed to do that even Bruce sometimes gotta hold back a smile.

Bruce, seeing one of the mansion’s living area a total mess with knifes and batarangs stuck in the walls, smoke still slowly dispersing from the area and broken furniture everywhere. His kids are all over the ground, breathing heavily. Normally he wouldn’t care but he’s hosting an event in his home today and Bruce is visibly mad. They won’t use the room for the event but the man is paranoid. “What is going on here!” He bellowed

Cue Dick screaming “Scatter!” And Dick flips out the window, landing perfectly on his feet from the third floor, Damian jumps out the window too with Alfred the cat hanging around the back of his neck, Jason grappling up into nowhere and actually disappearing, Tim is running into a different entrance to another room with Steph, Duke used his powers to be invisible and Cass just disappears into the shadows in broad daylight.

Bruce is left in the destroyed room, flabbergasted at what just happened. He holds back a smile soon after, not sure to be proud or laugh. Alfred is behind him, a menacing aura surrounding him because the man hates cleaning up last minute and Bruce is also suddenly gone, causing the butler to sigh. Alfred simply locks the door and blocks any entry into it.

Guests who happened to sneak up the third floor and sees the chained up room simply thought it was Bruce’s sex dungeon.

First DC headcanon post??

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Ch 10 part 1

masterpost

“Tyranny!” Damian bellowed. His little face was red with fury.

Cass crossed her arms and nodded agreement. She was not accepting any more changes to her life at this time. Things were already happening, too much.

“Nevertheless,” said cruel Batdad. “The pediatric nutritionist will be here tomorrow.” He was trying very hard to seem composed and unaffected by their upset. But he was affected. So affected. And yet he persisted on traveling down the wrong path.

Cass hissed.

Their natural ally, Alfred, put his nose up a little as he cleared the dinner dishes. He sniffed as he left, unhappy-stiff. Cass did not know how he had been defeated. Food was his domain, not some interloper with a pathetic weepy Doctorate of nutritional sciences.

“He designs the meal plans for child Olympians,” Batdad coaxed. He wanted them to like him soooo much. “Standard advice is not necessarily very useful for extreme athletes. You might feel better afterwards. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Gentle, gentle, pleading.

No!!!

Damian stabbed his fork upright into his cinnamon roll and pointed an index finger at their tormentor. “I will not submit. I consume an adequately varied and nutritious diet. Whatever your true aims are, I will not be moved.”

Cass scarfed down her own dessert messily, scowling at Batdad the whole time as if to say: come and take it from me. Can you? You can’t.

Duke watched this with clever eyes darting between Batdad and his siblings. His body said: I don’t care. But I won’t pick Bruce publicly. What can I get? Can I make trouble? 

Hmm. Cass didn’t like that. She narrowed her eyes at him. He should philosophically agree with their cause. She was going to crawl under his bed and hiss, scary sounds to wake him up and go BOO. 

She made a mental note to do that before patrol tonight. If she could even fit it in, jeeze.

Ugh. So busy. Always so much to do.

The tension was high when they trooped to the cave for briefing, before Duke went to bed and everyone else took their pre-patrol nap. Cass lingered sullenly because she wanted to hear Duke’s report on the mechanic. Jacqueline’s apartment had been sneakily snuck through. The conclusion?

“There’s a lot of work clothes in the apartment, but no tools or anything like that. No references or books, aside from a couple of ones from the university library.” Duke fidgeted, micromovement. Not an interesting report. Not an enjoyable detour. “There’s no indication as to what she’s been working on. I took DNA samples off some dirty dishes and hair off the sofa. They’re filed for processing.”

Disappointing. The next step was unclear. Cass frowned. Should they try to observe again? Wait for Jacqueline to leave her lair and follow? Perhaps they should enter the apartment and lurk, ask questions. Tell her: We know your criminal associations. Stop it. Stop it, Jacqueline.

Damian stuck his lips out. He would say: This is not a pout, Cain.

It was a pout.

“I see.” Timbird took notes, fingers flying. Tap tap tap. “You’re passing the case back?”

“It’s all yours,” he said, nodding to Damian. Babybat nodded solemnly. My responsibility. He looked at her. Cass nodded: I have your bat-back. Let’s creep on Jacqueline, as a family.

Hmm. It was too quiet. Usually, there was Batdad commentary. She snuck a look at him even though she and Damian were ignoring him for his cruelties.

Batdad was pondering. He was paying enough attention, but his mind was on something else. Hmm. Cass prodded him. “Ah- Tim, did you upload your conclusions about the Amity Park case?”

Oh. Cass kept her body still, letting it say: I’m bored, I don’t care.

Timbird sighed and ruffled his hair. The gel made a little crackle sound. “It’s a massive government coverup,” he said. Unhappy. “I think a few residents fled, but it looks like it was a mass murder of the residents. The tank tracks came from a subdivision called the GIW, which is ridiculously over militarized.” He opened a file on one of the many Batcomputer screens. It showed a complex of buildings, taken from above. Superboy photography? “They’re doing weapons development, and it appears to be based on the designs of local scientists, also missing.”

“These scientists were affiliated with the GIW?” Batdad asked.

Tim shrugged. “Unclear.” His mouth twitched, unhappy. “There’s evidence of some collaboration, but it seemed a relatively normal exchange of information. Now, the GIW appears to have all their patented inventions and is replicating them.”

“So either these scientists are on staff or they have been removed,” Damibat scowled. A grumpy line formed between his eyebrows. So cute. 

“Removed?” Duke repeated, amused.

“From this mortal coil,” Damibat repeated. Impatient. Keep up, Thomas.  Haha. Cass sniggered and stuck her tongue out. Yeah. Keep up, Duke.

[theblue6ook]

"A Sick Day" PT 2

Bruce invites a sick Y/N to stay at his home.

B (24) & Y/N (22)

A/N: I'm back... (let's be honest this one is not my best work, but we have better coming up)

The worst part of her illness wasn’t the migraine pounding in the back of her eyes, her high fever, or even the soreness in her throat. No. It was having to face Alfred after he’d heard about the condition of her sickness.

“I don’t know what’s worse. That Bruce, for the first time in his life, insisted on leaving the house, and in a blizzard - or him leaving to find you, on the verge of death, walking in it!” he bellowed at her. “Out of all the irresponsible-”

Y/N had been quiet since Bruce forced her into the car heading toward Wayne Manor. Alfred had even delightedly greeted her, not expecting the visit... that was until Bruce explained the circumstances. Y/N felt like branding him a tattle tale. The minute they walk in and he’s going on to Alfred, guess who walked to Wayne Enterprises today? She could’ve killed him. 

So now, she sits in an armchair by the fireplace in the main living area. Alfred made sure to cozy her up with a blanket and a cup of something warm and delicious before digging into her about being "irresponsible," as he said. As he dug further, Y/N felt her eyes drooping. Her body began to tingle delightfully. Down her sides, into her fingertips, all the way down to her toes. It was like all the stress from her day-to-day life, her illness, her radiator, was slithering out of her. She sank deeper into the chair, and as Bruce brought her bags in, he looked toward her sleeping form.

"Alfred," he said quietly.

"I'll get to you later," he snipped toward Bruce.

"Alfred," he said firmly, moving his head toward Y/N, and the old man turned toward her.

Alfred sighed deeply and pulled her blanket closer to her chin, taking the drink out of her still hand. He spoke mostly to himself, "What am I going to do with you two?"

“I’ll take her upstairs.” Bruce started to walk toward her until Alfred stopped him. 

“We shouldn’t wake her,” Alfred whispered, but Bruce looked weary. “She needs to rest and I don’t want to risk her waking up again.”

So they left her, in no doubt a medicated sleep in the cozy arms of the recliner by the crackling fireplace.

-

It was dark the next time Y/N stirred. Slowly she opened and rubbed her crusted eyes, her sign of a deep, unbothered sleep. For no longer than a second, she had no idea where she was. That was until her eyes drifted to the large family portrait hanging on the wall.

Leaning upwards in her chair she noticed her drink had long gone cold, now sitting on the table next to her, and the recliner she had been resting in had been leaned back to lift her aching feet. The fire was out, but it was still so warm in the living room. That might have had something to do with the fact that she was swaddled in two blankets. What time was it? Had she slept all day?

Unwrapping herself from the burrito of blankets, she stood on shaking legs. With a crack of her back, she moved toward what she thought she remembered to be the kitchen.

Y/N pushed through a set of dark oat doors and felt her socks slide against the checkered tile. Widening her blurry eyes, she looked toward the microwave clock, and there was no mistaking the time glowing off the stainless steel.

3 a.m.

So, that has to be incorrect. There was just no fathomable way she had fallen asleep this morning, slept all day, and then some. This had to be some stupid joke played by Bruce. It had to be. Grabbing her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket, she lit the screen with a click.

3 a.m.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She threw her hands against her face groaning. Snow or not, sick or not, she was not the type to skip out on work and though it was her boss's fault she couldn't help but feel the impending doom for when she did have to play catch up. Maybe I can just get a head start tonight? I slept all day anyway.

Looking around the kitchen, Y/N realized she didn't even know where her work bag was, let alone any of her things. She didn't have a chance of finding it in the manor, especially when she's not used to so much space. Honestly, the least Bruce could have done was wake her up to take her to an actual bedroom, or even show her around the manor so she wouldn't get lost... but if he did wake her, she would have surely started working anyway and Bruce knew this. Hence her current predicament.

But she wasn't alone for long. The heat had kicked on, which definitely masked a general nighttime sound, but there was something off about the silence. She swore she almost heard a metallic clicking, like a heavy door, and then shuffling behind her, but when she turned, there was nothing. Just the glow of the microwave clock shining in the darkness.

"What are you doing?"

"HOLY SHIT!"

Turning, she noticed that standing in front of her was a very shirtless, very sweaty Bruce Wayne. The kitchen glow shined off his damp chest, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. This is so inappropriate, she kept thinking, yet her eyes continued moving downward-

He cleared his throat, grinning.

She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in, "Don't you fucking scare me like that. What are you even doing up?"

"I was just at the gym."

Bewilderment struck her face, "It's 3 o'clock in the morning."

Bruce ignored her, opting to throw the back of his hand against her forehead with his brows furrowed. "Your fever is down, but you're still warm and a little flushed."

It wasn't the fever that warmed her cheeks. He was too close to her and too shirtless. She had never given too much thought to her boss's physique, but she's pretty sure spoiled billionaires aren't typically cut like he is. She stepped back quickly, looking toward the ceiling. 

"Okay, that's enough. I should probably get back to bed anyway.” Backing away toward the double doors, she paused, realizing she had no idea where ‘bed’ was. Bruce walked past her, his back was as impressive as his front.

With a grin, he opened the double doors and nodded his head in the direction of the living room. “Come on. I’ll show you where to go.”

@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky @maxinehufflepuffprincess @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @mariadvorak @100520s @st0rmyt @stxrsberkshire

[thedemonofcat]

After the mountain, rumors start to circulate that the bard Jaskier has joined hands with Nilfgaard.

The other wolves express their outrage at this betrayal, but Geralt insists that the rumors must be fake.

This leads to questions. 1) Why is Geralt’s faith in the bard so unshakable? 2) If Jaskier is so loyal, how come Geralt’s never introduced him?

It was an unseasonably warm winter day when Lambert shoved open the heavy wooden doors of Kaer Morhen, carrying none other than Jaskier over his shoulder.

“Put me down, you oaf!” Jaskier bellowed, flailing and swatting at Lambert as they entered the keep. Lambert, unimpressed, marched forward and unceremoniously dropped the bard onto the snow-dusted floor.

“Here’s your traitor,” Lambert announced, his voice sharp with disdain. “Found him cozying up with Nilfgaard.”

Jaskier scrambled to his feet, spinning around in a flustered mess. “How dare you bring me here like this!” he cried indignantly. “I demand to leave at once!”

The room fell silent. Rumors of Jaskier’s supposed allegiance to Nilfgaard had been swirling since the mountain, stoking anger among the witchers. Eskel frowned deeply, while Lambert glared, his hand inching toward the hilt of his sword.

“Enough,” Geralt said, his tone calm but firm. He stepped closer to Jaskier, scrutinizing the bard’s wild demeanor. “Jaskier,” he began cautiously, “whatever you’ve heard, whatever they’ve done to you—it’s over. You’re safe now.”

“Safe?” Jaskier scoffed, eyes wide with disbelief. “I don’t even know you! And stop calling me that ridiculous name. My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.”

The room tensed further. Yennefer, standing off to the side, raised a brow. “Where did you find him?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

“Caught him with a Nilfgaardian convoy,” Lambert replied, his anger barely restrained. He shot Geralt a pointed look. “I told you. Your bard’s a traitor.”

Eskel, his voice somber, added, “I’m sorry, Geralt, but we might have to deal with this more… permanently.”

“No,” Geralt said firmly, stepping between Jaskier and the others. “This isn’t like him. He’s stubborn, annoying, sure—but loyal. Something’s wrong. Why wouldn’t he remember me?”

“Maybe you never knew the *real* Jaskier,” Eskel muttered darkly. “Humans are rarely what they seem.”

Before Geralt could respond, Ciri broke through the circle of tension, moving toward Jaskier despite Lambert’s attempt to hold her back. She studied him closely. “Look at his eyes,” she said, her tone sharp.

“What about them?” Geralt asked.

“They’re not right,” Ciri said. “When he used to sing to me in Cintra, his eyes were blue. Now there’s pink in them.”

Yennefer’s gaze snapped to Jaskier. She crossed the room swiftly, grabbing his face despite his protests. “Hold still, little bird,” she ordered, her voice cold. Jaskier snarled at her—an uncharacteristic venom in his tone.

“Let me go, you witch!” he spat.

Yennefer ignored him, examining him closely before turning to Geralt. “It’s a love spell,” she announced, her voice grim. “Someone’s been tampering with his mind.”

The revelation hung heavy in the air, drawing a stunned silence from the room.

---

Hours later, Geralt sat beside Jaskier in one of Kaer Morhen’s smaller chambers. The bard was lying on the bed, his ankle bound to the frame with a silver chain—a compromise to satisfy the others, who still didn’t trust him. Slowly, Jaskier stirred, groaning softly.

“Oh, my head,” he muttered, blinking groggily. His gaze landed on Geralt, and his face crumpled with guilt. “You must think me awful,” he whispered. “I let myself be used by Nilfgaard.”

“You were under a spell, Jask,” Geralt said gently. “The fault isn’t yours—it’s theirs.”

A bitter laugh escaped Jaskier. “Theirs indeed. My parents, to be precise,” he said, his tone laced with resentment.

“Your parents?” Geralt repeated, stunned.

Jaskier nodded. “After the mountain, I was so angry with you—I wanted to disappear. I thought Lettenhove might be safe. Foolish, really. My parents were waiting with an arranged marriage for me. To a Grand Duke of Nilfgaard, no less.”

Geralt’s face darkened. “And when you refused?”

“They didn’t give me much choice,” Jaskier said bitterly. “I think it was a potion—in my tea, perhaps. One moment, I was myself; the next, I couldn’t think of anything but that Duke. Making him happy, obeying his every whim…” His voice cracked. “It was like I wasn’t even me anymore.”

Geralt clenched his fists, his anger simmering. “And when Nilfgaard realized who you were?”

“They saw an opportunity,” Jaskier said quietly. “They wanted to use me to get to you.”

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Geralt leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Jaskier’s forehead. “You’re safe now,” he said softly.

Jaskier let out a shaky breath. “I hope so,” he murmured. “Because I don’t think I can survive being their pawn again.”

[oldmannapping]

Ficlet: Bodyswap (Dick-Jason and Tim-Steph)

Based on my own prompt, which wouldn't leave my brain.

This is a body-swap fic with only the awkwardness. None of the bonding. Just the weird uncomfortable parts. Okay maybe a little of the bonding.

Excerpt:

Across the Cave, a furious voice echoed off stalagmites and startled several bats.

“Why are you so HORNY ALL THE TIME?!”

An indignant, and equally-bat-startling voice immediately responded.

“Why AREN’T you?!”

It seems there was an impasse.

It’s a tale as old as time. Batfamily meets warlock, warlock fumbles a spell, warlock disappears in a cloud of smoke, Batfamily realises they’re body-swapped…

You know. That old classic.

WARNINGS: Mentions of menstruation, mentions of sex drives and sexuality, swearing

Across the Cave, a furious voice echoed off stalagmites and startled several bats.

“Why are you so HORNY ALL THE TIME?!”

An indignant, and equally-bat-startling voice immediately responded.

“Why AREN’T you?!”

It seems there was an impasse.

It’s a tale as old as time. Batfamily meets warlock, warlock fumbles a spell, warlock disappears in a cloud of smoke, Batfamily realises they’re body-swapped…

You know. That old classic.

Dick and Jason were glaring at each other. Themselves. Each other, in each other’s bodies. You've got it, it's not your first rodeo right?

It’s been three days since the unfortunate warlock incident. As well as Jason and Dick, Tim and Stephanie have also been body-swapped in a move that seemed particularly designed by the spell/universe to cause maximum rage to Steph and mortification to Tim.

Jason and Dick have refused to allow the team to be locked down because Fuck Off, You Can’t Tell Me What To Do (Jason) and Bruce For The Good Of The Team We Need Some Space Because If We Murder Each Other It Will Be Bad For Morale (Dick).

Bruce might have held out for longer but Alfred’s visiting family in England and without his arched brow of British judgement, Bruce tends to let his children pick whichever course of action seems like it will cause the least about of hassle to Bruce’s personal routine.

He didn’t love them in the Cave 24/7 either. He’s had to ship Cass and Damian off to one of his nicer safehouses because having to manage four moody, hormonal, body-swapped vigilantes was hard enough without the mental load of school pickups and packed lunches. He misses Alfred. He’s hiding in his office at the moment, getting more Wayne Enterprises work done than he has in years.

Jason and Dick, and Tim and Stephanie, have spent three days in each other’s bodies, absolutely not patrolling or going anywhere that they’re likely to be recognised, but exercising and getting coffee and generally behaving like prisoners on day release. Zatanna has assured them that these sorts of spells usually fizzle out after less than a month, so it’s just a waiting game.

Apparently, they are bored. Apparently, they’re getting on each other’s nerves again.

Jason, in Dick’s body, has just raked his hands through his hair and pulled it nearly hard enough to rip it out.

“Why are you so HORNY ALL THE TIME!?” he has bellowed.

Dick’s reaction is to pull Jason’s body to its full height in indignation. “Why AREN’T you?” he shouts back.

Jason is at the end of his rope. “Everyone you see!” he says, pointing a finger at Dick. “I was just going for a fucking RUN. I just wanted some exercise, because this fucking body can’t go three minutes without goddam MOVING. And it just wouldn’t SHUT UP.”

He’s so mad. He continues: “This fucking body checks out EVERYONE. You’re constantly just sizing people up and thinking about boning them. ALL THE FUCKING TIME.”

Dick is also mad. “That’s not true!” he rebuts. “I notice people! We’re trained to be observant! Yeah, one of the things I notice about them is attraction. That’s NORMAL. That’s what people DO. At least I’m not thinking about the best ways I could incapacitate some poor 15-year-old barista.”

Jason flares Dick’s nostrils. “I do NOT think about hurting kids.”

Dick scoffs. “No, you think about hurting EVERYONE. Everyone you see is a threat. How could I take this person down? Am I stronger than this person? Is that lady hiding a gun in that baby stroller? All day long! You think that’s normal? You think that’s better than noticing if someone’s attractive?”

“It’s more fucking useful, especially in our line of work. You think you’ll ever save the day with a heroic boner?”

“Oh my god stop talking about it!”

“I wish I could stop THINKING about it! I had to SHOWER in this goddam body. Do you know how hard it is to ignore someone else’s boner in your shower? I nearly punched myself in the dick, pun fucking intended.”

Dick makes Jason’s teeth grind. “Do NOT break my penis.”

Jason points at Dick again like he’s a giant disobedient dog. “I will get your FUCKING nipples pierced if this body has one more hard on. I’m not fucking around.”

Dick flails Jason’s huge arms. His fluid, lithe movements look very out of place on a muscle-bound heavyweight. Almost campy. “I have literally ZERO control over that right now. You realise that right? You realise you sound ridiculous.”

“You’re the one who conditioned your body to be like this. Make it stop!”

“I don’t know if you forgot about this part of puberty or if you were just too busy being angry and emo and FARTING to notice, but boners are a fact of life, suck it up.”

“Firstly, some of us actually eat vegetables - YOU need more fibre in your diet, Grayson, don’t get me started on that – and secondly, sorry I didn’t condition myself to repress freakish amounts of lust. I must have been too busy DYING and being RESURRECTED and BRAINWASHED BY THE LEAGUE OF ASSASSINS.”

“Oh my god WE GET IT, YOU DIED. You cannot use that to win every argument. Stop being so angry in my body, I can feel how gross and grouchy yours is all the time and I don’t want you infecting mine.”

“That’s funny, since I’m probably keeping your body the cleanest it’s been since you were fifteen, you horny maniac.”

“There’s a difference between feeling attraction and acting on it! It’s NORMAL to notice people in a sexual way! Don’t shame me!”

“Stop saying ‘attraction’, this is not attraction, this is Ivy-level mind-fogging crotch-throbbing run-ruining-“

“Just because all YOU think about is violence and murder, don’t get mad at me for having a sex drive!”

“I’m not mad at you for having a sex drive! I’m mad at you for making ME have your sex drive!”

“I didn’t cast this spell!”

“I know!”

“There’s nothing wrong with being sexual and expressing it with whoever I want, as long as they’re consenting!”

“I know! I support you! I couldn’t give a fuck who you bone and I don’t want to think about it, but I support it!”

“Good!”

“Good!”

Steph and Tim are standing a few feet away, watching hypnotically. Steph uses Tim’s bony elbow to nudge him in her ribs. She whispers something to him and he snorts a laugh, then freezes.

“Um,” he says in Steph’s voice, expression tight. “I think you might need to teach me how to use a tampon. Or, uh. Sanitary pad. Whichever you’re most comfortable with. Or. Um. Maybe your body just peed? Many women develop incontinence after childbirth, so it’s fine, I just. Uh. I just want to know what I’m dealing with here.”

Steph gapes at him. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She grabs her phone and swears when the fingerprint ID doesn’t work. Jabbing in her PIN, she swipes to her period tracker app. “Fuck. Un-fucking-believable.”

Ten minutes later, Steph and Tim emerge from the Cave’s bathrooms with grim expressions, not meeting each other’s eyes.

Tim, valiantly trying to remain scientific, offers, “I didn’t know it smelled different than normal blood.”

Steph digs Tim’s nails into his palms. “Stop talking.”

Tim cannot stop talking. “I just mean. I’ve been around a lot of blood, but never, you know. That kind of blood. And I never thought about how, in its basic composition, it’s not just blood, it’s also endometrial cells and cervical lining so of course it would be different.”

“Stop. Talking.”

Tim is a nervous talker. “And also, good idea on using the gloves and applicator. That way I didn’t have to touch any, um, you know, touch your, touch you when I was doing the. Yeah. Not that it would be gross or bad to touch you, I mean. You’re very. Great. And women are. So brave. Every month. But it’s just. You know. It’s not. I mean you consented, but in this situation, is it really consent, since this whole thing is kind of coercive, since you don’t REALLY have control over your-“

“SHUT UP!”

Dick and Jason raise their heads like meerkats from where they’ve ended up facing off with their phones, stubbornly shout-reading each other google search results for “normal male sex drive” and “how do I know if I’m asexual”.

“Everything okay over there?” asks Dick, Jason’s deeper voice carrying easily across the Cave.

“Fine!” say Steph and Tim in tandem.

“Totally natural and normal!” adds Tim helpfully. “We’re totally comfortable. We’re blossoming. We’re very healthy.”

Steph groans. “I cannot believe I used to date you.”

Part Two

[to-the-stars8]

Love and Neighbors

Clark Kent x Reader Chapters AO3

Just a short, filler chapter guys as I get back on the bandwagon! Please enjoy <3 More to come soon

40- Ma Kent's World Peace

You were helping Ma Kent with her pie crust when you heard the old screen door creek open before slamming closed as an array of voices suddenly filled the room. Clark’s voice you could listen to over all of them as he let out a loud, bellowing laugh. Seconds later he was walking into the kitchen with Bruce Wayne and Pa Kent following behind him. 

“Oh, Bruce!” You said, excitedly. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

You reached out for a hug, happy to see the billionaire after such a long time, and he returned it with just as much heart. “I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop by.”

“In the neighborhood,” Ma Kent scoffed. “Is that what they call flying a private jet nowadays?”

“Hi Ma,” Bruce said, kissing her cheek. 

She patted his cheek before stepping back to look at him. Ma Kent tsked before pointing to the old, wooden table in the corner of the kitchen. “Go sit down, Bruce Wayne! You’re skinnier than a stick. I know Alfred has been feeding you…”

You tuned Ma Kent out as you turned to Clark. Every time you looked at him it was like looking at a full moon; standing out amongst the void which left you starstruck. With a smile, you reached for him to pull him into a tight, warm hug. 

Placing a kiss on your lips, Clark mumbled, “You’re getting better at making pies.”

“Oh, you’re such a liar,” You said with a playful swat to his arm. 

Pa Kent was quick to interject, saying in an almost-whisper, “I think we need to save your friend, son.” 

Looking back over to the table, Ma Kent stood over Bruce with her hands on her hips. The man looked to be a little kid getting the scolding of a lifetime, now and then looking over to silently ask for help. 

“Ma, how about we get to finishing that pie, so we can fatten this boy up,” Pa Kent said. “You two go join your friend. I’ll help Ma.”

You took a seat next to Bruce with Clark on your other side. When Ma stepped away, the billionaire boy seemed to let out a long breath of relief. “I don’t think Alfred has ever scolded me as much.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Kent gave me a good talking to when I mentioned I forgot to eat breakfast,” You said, remembering it. If every person in the world had a Ma Kent, you were positive there would be world peace. 

Clark added, “She scolds me, too, and I’m Superman.”

“What a brag,” You and Bruce said simultaneously. 

That surprised you, and the two of you were quick to look at each other. Mr. Wayne smiled while you laughed, Clark suddenly feeling joy and terror. He loved his two friends getting along, but the fact they had the same sarcastic humor terrified him. Turning in his chair, he asked, “How’s that pie comin’, Ma?”

[rosiesramblings]

Meditation, Interrupted

Fandom: Batman

Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth at the end

WC: 1k

A/N: Hello! I wrote this fic as a birthday gift to myself - the found family troupe is my weakness. I've only ever read fanfic from this fandom (no actual consumption of cannon, lol), so if everyone is OOC, that's why. I hope you enjoy!

“Jason.”

Jason continued his meditation, giving no indication that he heard his older brother from across the cave.

“Jason. Hey, Jason,” Dick called, getting closer.

Jason continued to ignore him. At this point in his life, ignoring Dick was a skill he had honed after years of practice.

“Jay. Jason. Jason. Jason.”

Jason bit back his irritation, accepting that his meditation was well and truly over, but still keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even. With any luck, Dick would get bored and go bother the Replacement for whatever he needed.

Jason felt Dick step onto the mats where he was seated, still repeating his name.

“Jason. Jason. JasonJasonJasonJason - “

Jason deftly caught Dick’s hand before it could poke his ribs. “Do you want to die?” He bit out, finally opening his eyes to glare at the acrobat.

He was met with a shit eating grin. “Little Wing! Don’t tell me you’re still ticklish?”

It took effort not to let his reaction show on his face. “No. Lucky me, the Pit took care of that.”

Dick’s grin grew. “Oh yeah? Hm. You know what the Pit didn’t take care of?” Dick flipped out of Jason’s grasp, landing behind him with his hands on Jason’s sides. “The tips of your ears still turn red when you’re lying.”

Dick squeezed his sides, and Jason lurched forward with a gasp he couldn’t quite strangle. Dick spidered his hands up to Jason’s ribs, and this time Jason didn’t manage to stifle his snickers.

“Fuhuhck off, Dihihckhead, I’m not in the mohohood.”

“Awwww, Little Wing, you might be worse than when you were a kiddo!” Dick teased, watching delightedly as red crept up the back of his little brother’s neck.

Jason quickly decided that was enough of that, thank you, and spun around, tackling his older brother to the ground. “Mahahybe. But unluckily for you, I’ve got ahabout 40 pounds on you these days.”

Dick barely had time to wheeze out a shocked, “Shit!” before Jason dug his fingers into Dick’s underarms and vibrated his fingers back and forth.

Dick immediately burst into cackles. “WAHAHAIT, WAIT, NOHOHOHO,” he managed, his pleas echoing around the cave.

“What’s wrong, Dickie? Can dish it out, but can’t take it?” Jason asked, removing one hand from under his arms to scribble across his brother’s tummy.

“Jahahahahahay, Jahahay, plehehehehehease, Ihihih’m sohohohorry!”

“Mmm, yeah, I don’t care,” Jason said as he reached down to grab one of Dick’s thighs and squeeze.

Dick hollered, begging, as his little brother showed no mercy to his worst spot. He writhed, trying to escape, but apparently more than a decade of vigilante work flew out the window when his brother was murdering him with tickles.

“Don’t forget, Dickie, I’m the biggest one in the family now,” Jason taunted, giving his brother a break by scritching at his knees, not wanting him to actually pass out.

Suddenly, there was a shadow looming over Jason’s shoulder. A deep voice rumbled, “Biggest save for one, Jaylad,” before Jason was unceremoniously tackled to the mats, off of his older brother.

Jason could do little more than suck in a breath before his adoptive father was attacking his ribs with frightening precision. Jason threw his head back as ticklish shocks swarmed his senses, laughing like a loon. 

“FuhuhuhuhUCK! SHIHIHIT, DAHAMMIT, B, WAHAHAHAHIT!” 

“Mmmm, no, thank you.” His father said fondly. “It’s been altogether too long since I’ve heard you laugh.”

“Get him B!” Dick cheered tiredly from the sidelines, still recovering from his own torment.

“FUHUHUCK OHOHOHOFF, DIHIHIHICKHEAD!” Jason bellowed as Bruce attacked his underarms ruthlessly.

“Do you remember what I used to do to get you to screech like a banshee?” Bruce asked, grinning down at his second-eldest son. “Alfred came running with his shotgun the first time I did it.”

Jason’s eyes widened and he started fighting back even harder. “Nohohoho, nohohot thahat, plehehease, B, I cahahahan’t - “ he babbled as Bruce slowly ruched up his workout top, exposing his tummy. 

Bruce smiled as Jason sucked in his tummy as far as it would go, shaking his head back and forth. He leaned down, keeping eye contact with his frantic kid, before taking in a deep breath and blowing a raspberry right over Jason’s belly button.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA,” Jason arched off the ground, his head thrown back as his hysterical laughter filled the cave. “PLEHEHEHEHEHE - DAHAHAHAHAD, I CAHAHAHAHAHAN’T!”

Bruce took one more breath, knowing Jason was close to his limit, before ducking back down and blowing one final raspberry, shaking his head back and forth so that his stubble would catch on his son’s skin and tickle even more.

Jason’s laughter went silent, tears beading in the corners of his eyes as he rode out the ticklish sensations. Bruce sat up and pulled Jason’s shirt back into place, still grinning as his son’s laughter continued. Jason curled into a ball, still giggling, arms firmly around his tummy to guard against any more attacks, but none were coming.

“He’s too precious,” Dick stage-whispered, sitting up and mirroring Bruce’s fond expression. Then at a normal volume, “Still want to try and convince me the Pit ‘took care of it’?”

Jason, still giggling, uncurled one arm enough to flip Dick the bird.

Dick still wasn’t done. “Is it true that Alfred ran in with a shotgun the first time you gave him a raspberry?” he asked Bruce, smirking.

“I don't know that I’d ever seen him move that fast,” Bruce remembered, then yelped as the butler in question appeared behind him and deftly scribbled across the back of Bruce’s neck.

“I’ll remind you of my extensive knowledge of your own spots, Master Bruce,” Alfred sniffed reprovingly, handing bottles of water to Jason and Dick as Bruce rubbed away the ghost tickles.

Jason, panting but recovered enough to sit upright, smirked. “Alfie’s got my back. ‘Specially against you cheaters.”

“Quite so, Master Jason.”

“Whatever you say, Jaybird.”

“Of course, Jaylad.”

“Fuck off.”

[holmesillustrations]

What is the best Watson focused illustration?

Our winners so far have been pretty Holmes-centered, so lets put the spotlight on our humble narrator this time! 📔🩺

Currently: Starting soon!

I included all the ones with only Watson, or supporting characters but not Holmes, plus some that do have them both but focus on Watson or that just have really good Watsons. There's only so many slots in a bracket, so i tried to get all the best ones, but if i left out any favourites, let me know and i'll post them seperately just for fun!

(Full list of competitors under cut)

SIDE A

I stowed them all discreetly away in my overcoat. Bruce-Partington Plans, FD Steele

Sir Henry put his hand upon my shoulder. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

"See!" she cried, "The miscreant follows still! There is the very man of whom I speak." Lady Frances Carfax, FD Steele

We strolled about together. Resident Patient, Sidney Paget

Billy advanced and drew away the drapery which screened the window. Dr. Watson could not restrain a cry of amazement. There was a facsimile of his old friend, dressing gown and all. Mazarin Stone, Alfred Gilbert

Be ready in half an hour. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

Holmes! I whispered. Twisted Lip, Sidney Paget

I held up a warning finger. Reigate Squires. Sidney Paget

I could look straight through the uncurtained window. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

"What's this?" he cried, in a high, screaming voice. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" Dying Detective, Walter Paget

It was a prostrate man face downwards upon the ground. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

What has happened to the Lady Frances? Is she alive or dead? There is our problem. Lady Frances Carfax, FD Steele

He tore up one of his wife's photographs in my presence. 'I never wish to see her damned face again!' he shrieked. Retired Colourman, FD Steele

"Mr. Holmes is an independent investigator," I said, "He is his own master." Valley of Fear, Frank Wiles

"If this is a joke, sir, it is a very questionable one," said the vicar angrily. Retired Colourman, Frank Wiles

The fellow gave a bellow of anger and sprang upon me like a tiger. Lady Frances Carfax, Alec Ball

Put it down! Down, this instant, Watson - this instant, I say. Dying Detective, Walter Paget

That is the Great Grimpen Mire. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

He unwound the handkerchief and held out his hand. Engineer's Thumb, Sidney Paget

The point is a simple one. Reigate Squires, Sidney Paget

He examined them minutely. Cardboard Box, Sidney Paget

Over the rocks was thrust out an evil yellow face. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

Sherlock Holmes was standing and smiling at me across my study table. Empty House, Sidney Paget

Really, sir, this is a very extraordinary question. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

He seized Holmes by the throat. Empty House, Sidney Paget

Exhibiting the butt of a large revolver, which projected from the inside pocket. Charles Augustus Milverton, Sidney Paget

The proposition took me completely by surprise. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

He deliberately knocked the whole thing over. Reigate Squires, Sidney Paget

Frankland clapped his eye to it and gave a cry of satisfaction. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

"Curse you, you double traitor!" cried the German, straining against his bonds and glaring murder from his furious eyes. His Last Bow, Alfred Gilbert

She went straight to her uncle. Beryl Coronet, Sidney Paget

I carefully examined the writing. Scandal in Bohemia, Sidney Paget

SIDE B

The shadow of Sherlock Holmes. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

"Go back!" she said. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

He broke the seal and glanced over the contents. Noble Bachelor, Sidney Paget

I knocked down several books which he was carrying. Empty House, Sidney Paget

I fell into a brown study. Cardboard Box, Sidney Paget

A curious collection. Musgrave Ritual, Sidney Paget

Holmes pulled out his watch. Greek Interpreter, Sidney Paget

Then he stood before the fire. Scandal in Bohemia, Sidney Paget

He did not rise, but sat upon a floor like some strange Buddha. Veiled Lodger, Frank Wiles

[Watson at Culvertons practice] Dying Detective, FD Steele

"Good-day, Dr Watson." he cried. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

See what my wife found in its crop! Blue Carbuncle, Sidney Paget

"It is glue, Watson," said he. Shoscombe Old Place, Frank Wiles

I saw the figure of a man upon the tor. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

In the light of the lantern i read, with a thrill of horror, 'the sign of the four'. Sign of Four, HM Kerr

I tried to interest myself in a yellow-backed novel. Boscombe Valley, Sidney Paget

From its craggy summit I looked out myself across the melancholy downs. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

What are you doing here, Barrymore? Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

"Phosphorous!" I said. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

[Frontispiece] Creeping Man, FD Steele

"Holmes," I cried, "You are too late." Five Orange Pips, Sidney Paget

[Watson and Mrs Maberley] Three Gables, FD Steele

Running up, I blew its brains out. Copper Beeches, Sidney Paget

You have indeed much to answer for. Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

You know that there is another man, then! Hound of the Baskervilles, Sidney Paget

It was quite a simple case after all. Crooked Man, Sidney Paget

A very seedy hard felt hat. Blue Carbuncle, Sidney Paget

He held it up. Yellow Face, Sidney Paget

Very fine — very fine indeed! Would it be indiscreet if I were to ask you how you obtained this? Illustrious Client, HK Elcock

Watson, would you be afraid to sleep in the same room with a lunatic? Valley of Fear, Arthur I. Keller

What do you make of that? Crooked Man, Sidney Paget

A small square of paper fluttered down. Final Problem, Sidney Paget