#these tags are nonsense my brain is gone please just take this i'm sorry that it's a mess

[byanyan]

@chronal-anomaly sent:ㅤShe knows holidays are difficult for them. They're difficult for her too, in a different way, with Christmas spent celebrating in freezing tents while distant sounds of war rocked the Earth beneath them. Then it was days spent at the VA, surrounded by friends and family alike. Lena always enjoyed the feeling of coming together, but there was always a part of her that ached for something of her own. Something of her own came true, crashing through her window and stealing her booze and fighting over the TV remote. A wet cat of a sibling, all claws and hissing comments, that chose her to curl up against. And Lena was so incredibly grateful for them, a balm against the yawn of independent loneliness that had followed her since discharging. Lena knew that holidays were hard for them, surrounded by the promise of what they should have had as a kid. Safety. Security. Love and appreciation and gifts. So Lena decided that Christmas would be whenever they returned to her flat next, where she had finger food and snacks waiting, cubed ham and leftover prime rib from the VA Christmas party, and three small gifts waiting on the table for them. In the first one, a decent multi tool with some heft, complete with two knives, a pair of scissors, pliers, some screwdrivers, and a litany of other random but helpful tools. The second, a gift certificate for a few free nights at a nearby hotel, and a gift card for their local delivery service, for those nights they had to get away. And the third gift, a large, awkward box sitting in the middle of the table. Lena had spent the most time working on it, pulling out ancient leather tools from a bag in the back of her closet. It was a custom harness, just like hers, designed for tagging and spray painting. A large D loop sat in front, just over the pelvis, to clip onto a safety rig. Other loops surrounded the rest of the harness, intended to clip bags onto, and three braces designed to hold active paint cans sat on the right and left hip, and against the lower back. A large buckle sat in the front and between the legs so it would be adjustable for them to be comfortable. And just before wrapping it up, she had dyed the whole harness a dazzling pink and red, complete with sparkles. Stars and other bright marks were stamped into the leather around the belt, marking it as their own. Merry Christmas, Byan.

ㅤit's the evening of the twenty-fifth when they show up at her window again, only a few days since they last came around, and with only the softest amount of hesitation due to the holiday attached to the date. ...and maybe also a little bit due to not wanting to have the gift they left for her addressed in any way, shape, or form.

not sure that lena will even be home, uncertain as to whether or not she has plans they aren't aware of with people they don't know about, byan approaches their usual entry point as they would on any other day: expecting nothing and perfectly content to have company or have the place to themself. some of the lights are on, but that doesn't always mean anything; not when she often leaves one or two running just in case they do show up. pulling the unlocked window open with habitual ease, they clamber through the same way they always do, the soles of their boots squeaking in the wet spot they've created as they turn in place to close the cold off once more.

ㅤㅤ" ey, lena, you home? "ㅤvoice raised so it can be heard through the entire flat, they begin shedding themself of all their layers — their backpack hits the floor first with a dull thump, quickly followed by their coat, gloves, and beanie, all tossed into a treacherous pile atop their bag. boots kicked off last, left to sit in the small, growing puddle of snow and mud which melts off of them, byan steps through the familiar surroundings, smoothing down ruffled hair with both hands and tying it all back with an elastic pulled from their wrist. a delayed and rather muffled call in response to their greeting draws a cursory glance down the hallway before they're continuing on their way to the kitchen for a snack.

it feels like it's just any other day and, for the briefest of moments, they almost forget that it's christmas, almost forget the present that they left for her in earnest, and almost forget that fear of her drawing attention to it and the obvious love and care it's representative of.

ㅤ—that is, until they step into the kitchen only to have it all slapped in their face with the sight of a small pile of presents sitting on the table.

freezing in the doorframe, all byan can do is stare in a stunned, wide-eyed silence. immediately, the thought 'don't be stupid, those aren't for you' echoes through their mind, urging them to drop their hopes back down to the floor. it wouldn't be the first time they were fooled by a stack of gifts left sitting around, after all. would be the first time it happened after the age of ten, though. but lena has friends and colleagues, people in her life other than them, and surely these are simply the gifts she hasn't been able to deliver yet. she's given them gifts before, sure — incredibly meaningful ones which they still treasure — but they've never expected any and still don't. it's going to be embarrassing when they walk over and see unfamiliar names on the gift tags, but at least she isn't in the room to witness them dashing their own stupid hopes.

circling the table like a nervous kitten who isn't quite sure of what to make of a new toy left on the floor, they cast an almost wary glance over their shoulder just in case lena and her scarily silent footsteps have managed to sneak up on them again. with no sign of her, and them now being close enough to catch a glimpse of the writing scrawled on each of the gifts, byan leans over in a failed attempt at nonchalance and scans for the names. then reads them again. —no, no, one more time, because they have to be misreading it.

ㅤㅤㅤ...byan. they all say byan.

caught up in processing this, they're only jerked back to the present by the excited click-clacking of chickadee's approaching footsteps, presumably with lena not far behind. the dog comes trotting in to the room, making a beeline straight for them, and although bewilderment still marks their features, byan doesn't do anything to stop the smile that spreads. in spite of their shock and the muddle of numerous other emotions all battling to take center stage, they drop to a crouch as chickadee comes closer, hands reaching out to rub the sides of her face in greeting.

ㅤㅤ" hey you. "ㅤa laugh escaping in a quiet chuff, they scrub their hands vigorously along her face and neck, head turning to the side with another bubble of laughter when she tries to lick their face in a greeting of her own. although they've allowed themself to be distracted, the teen watches out of the corner of their eye as lena moves toward the fridge and reaches inside. the sound seems to get the dog's attention as well, her head whipping around as her attention is thoroughly diverted. chickadee pads over to where lena rummages around, and byan slowly rises back to their feet, gaze flitting for a fraction of a second to the presents before finding lena once more.

ㅤㅤ" you— "ㅤthey begin, hooking a thumb toward the table with a dubious and almost nervous look now marking their features, only to find themself cut short in their attempted protest by a brusque shushing. mouth hanging open, body still, byan's eyebrows furrow, but all lena does is pull out a tray of various finger foods and smile warmly. there's a nod toward the table, and then she's gone, taking the food to the living room with chickadee quick on her heels.

ㅤ...damn. she's good. and she knows them far too well. knows that they'll try to protest an act of kindness, that they'll need time to process, and that they're as uncomfortable being watched opening gifts as they are directly delivering them. that's what they assume she's doing, anyway — giving them space — once they hear her settle down on the couch the next room over, leaving them alone with the presents she's now directed them toward.

practically bracing themself, byan looks back to the gifts stacked on the table and slowly sidles closer. there's no denying the little thrill of looking down at them all and wondering what's inside, the same way there's no denying the tightness in their throat that comes with knowing that lena picked all of it out for them. tentatively, they reach out for the first, the one closest to their hand, and pick it up. the heft of it has them instantly concluding that it's probably a knife and, once the paper has been shed, they think they're right. ...for all of a second. they aren't wrong, exactly, but they realize it's more than just that as they find themself pulling a variety of different tools free of the base and end up laughing to themself by the time they reach the third screwdriver. well, lena never did love their fondness for knives. they suppose that this way, she probably feels less like she's giving them a weapon. and they can't say that the multitude of tools won't come in handy, even if it is a lot less fun than, say, a new butterfly knife.

when they move on to the second gift, they no longer know what to anticipate. even with all the time in the world, they'd have never thought a free hotel room and food, much less multiple nights in a hotel. after reading the gift certificate several times over, byan is left dumbfounded, gazing down at it while they bite at the inside of their cheek, willing away the returning lump in their throat. they've never stayed in a hotel — at least, not that they can remember — but even they know that that shit's expensive for even just one night. more than one night and a gift card for delivery and there's still one more, much bigger gift waiting to be opened? what the fuck is she on, spending this kind of money on them? on some random fucking kid she has no relation to and no reason to care for?

for all of a moment, they come close to grabbing their things and running out the door. it's too much, it's too much, they don't deserve this, there's no reason for it—

ㅤ...and then they take a breath. remember all the hours they poured into not only lena's christmas gift, but all the others they've made for her as well. remember all the other things that she's done for them that she had no business doing; the way she's opened up her home to them, and the way she's listened with absolutely no judgement in those moments where they've needed to get something off their chest.

they think of her as a sister at this point, it's just... sometimes weird and kind of hard to remember that that goes both ways. she thinks of them as a sibling too, and that's okay. —it's better than okay, it's great. she's become their family, and they... have to work on accepting that.

still fighting the urge to take flight, yet relaxing some again, byan sniffs as they find that tears are now dangerously close to falling. tongue pinched between teeth as they beat back their emotions with a baseball bat made entirely of their own pride and shame — a bat that may as well squeak with the way it seems to fold against that which it's meant to fight — they swallow around the ever-growing lump in their throat and wipe at their eyes with the fuzzy pink sleeve of their sweatshirt. gift certificate set next to the multi tool because they can't handle looking at it any longer, dark eyes fall on the final, most mysterious package. with the way everything else has hit them... they're almost afraid to open it and find out what's inside. tempted to leave it, even. to step out onto the balcony and get absolutely zooted so they have an excuse to leave it unopened for the time being.

ㅤcuriosity, however, gets the better of them. as it so often does.

back to biting the inside of their cheek, byan tears through the wrapping paper, hoping desperately that this is some joke gift so they can laugh and stop dwelling on all the things they don't want to address or acknowledge. but that would be hoping for too much with a gift from lena, wouldn't it?

the crinkling of the paper stops abruptly the moment the box is opened to reveal the harness inside. identical to the one which they've admired every time she's pulled it out, perfect for tagging places they'd never been able to reach and doing pieces bigger than they've ever been able to before, but personalized specifically for them in its vibrant pink and its sparkles and its other very visible and present markings across the leather. god fucking dammit. of course the last one would not only be the biggest physically, but the biggest time and effort investment on her part, and biggest emotional impact on theirs. they have to hand it to her, she's a goddamn pro. no amount of biting or blinking or backing away and pacing across the room is enough to stop the tears from spilling now, and they have half a mind to be real fucking pissed right about now.

when lena has the audacity to come walking into the kitchen about fifteen minutes later like everything is completely normal, the harness is still sitting in its box and byan is all but flying at her. before she has a chance to react (or to look at their still very red eyes), they're wrapping around her in a constricting hug, hands bunching in the back of her shirt.

ㅤㅤ" fuck you. "ㅤcursing her out in a wet half laugh with no real hostility present in their tone, they swallow thickly and shut their eyes tight. damn her for taking everything they ever learned about the world and turning it on it's head. damn her for actually caring and making them feel loved. damn her for being so stupidly fucking thoughtful and making them think that maybe they are worth something. damn her for making them feel things and for making them cry like some pathetic child over the simplest things on more than one occasion!!

ㅤㅤ" what the fuck. like, what the fuck?? "ㅤvoice catching slightly on the repeat, byan gives lena a weak shake inside the hug before closing their arms even tighter around her and making a face into her shoulder. it's an expression of how much they like the gifts, how much all of it means to them, just... not in so many words. they think she'll get it though, considering how well she so obviously knows them.ㅤ" i hate you. thank you. —can we have dinner now? 'cause otherwise i'm prob'ly gonna break somethin'. "ㅤㅤi love you.

[spoonyglitteraunt]

How.... ?

How do you write both a good fanfic and the best ad for your book in one go?

Just how??

This is legit the best book ad, no, the best marketing overall I've ever seen. And it wasn't even meant to be. But this is so uniquely suited to keep my attention challenged brain to read beyond a sentence or two. To stop the brain gremlins from wandering distractedly off into the void as is their wont, and instead have them making desperate grabby hands at the screen. For the book AND more batfam reads hunger pangs shenanigans both mind.

Just genius.

So please never apologise for writing this. In fact feel free to do more (if so inclined).

I'm seriously saving this for the fanfic purposes alone. And would gladly read more of the Wayne household and beyond is completely normal and well adjusted about a book fanfic. We would LOVE to have that in our lives.

Also sorry for the next bit. I slipped on my focus skittles and it just sort of... fell out. I initially started this in the tags until I found out apparently there IS such a thing as a tag limit. I debated about just removing it entirely, but apparently the above sent me in a bit of a fandom squee, so it refuses to not post it. But also not making it less tag like because effort, and I do not have the braincells right now to make it less fandom rambly anyway.

but also also

we NEED to see all the ways Tim is trying to convince Bruce to read this

from random pages left around the mansion stuck in-between important documents and reports

to “accidental” moodboards or blurbs left on the big screen

or the audiobook popping up on any device able to make sounds up to and including the fridge

no doubt Jason helped with that

gleefully so

somehow the alarm clock that has no audio function still managed to switch its alarm to audiobook narration

even when unplugged

or the communicator “accidentally” switching to mid spicy scenes during patrols

if that happened right when Bruce was talking to Gordon or worse Clark well that's just a coincidence obviously

it's unconfirmed if this is how it spread to the league and beyond

Damian is NOT amused and may or may not be arranging some “accidents” for all his brothers

strictly non lethal obviously

probably

resulting in a VERY interesting dinner that Dick does NOT want to go to but can't escape

Jason might even consider tagging along for this one or at least find a way to film it somehow for future viewings

it's a full house that night

eventually someone probably Babs finds out that Bruce already read the whole thing either way before or as soon as Dick got hooked

he's not only working on fully financing the go-fund-me for you I mean the writer but also looking into starting up a MCAS research and aid foundation

because fuck this nonsense and fuck medical negligence not on his watch

he may have also been gently inquiring about acquiring some signed copies for his kids (and himself)

naturally Harley catches wind of it too because of course she does and drags the book home to Ivy

which in turn sparks an entire new wave of viral book sharing this time on the other side

signed copies are soon in high demand (your poor wrists)

but you're having a good time with it

it’s amusing how people suddenly keep asking you to address them to (in)famous people

you especially respect their commitment to the bit during follow up messages very fun

obviously Alfred was aware of of it all from moment go merely deciding not to comment unless asked

just glad that the latest family fixation is one less prone to property damage and grieves injuries he needs to patch up

he does take a few days off to take a trip back “home” though to quote deal with a few unresolved matters

he's gone to see a dentist

From what I've seen, I think the Batkids would like your book.

Hunger Pangs? You flatter me.

But also, yes thank you for this particular strain on self-indulgent brain rot. I am going to be absolutely abnormal about this.

I’d like to imagine Dick picks it up at an airport somewhere on his way back from a trip and becomes hooked on the “clever, pretty, jumps-from balconies-for-the-thrill-of-the-fall vampire and goes, “oh, same.”

The fact that it’s got a rugged, soldiery werewolf with a heart of gold who enforces self-care as a form of kink-play is also doing stuff to his brain. (That’s a thing? He can… he can ask someone for that? Who does he ask for that? It’s been weeks since he slept more than a few hours and ate more than cereal for dinner. Seriously, who does he ask? How much is it? He’s got money. He’ll pay.) The uh, the need for validation and the budding praise kink is also hitting a little too close to home.

As is “all powerful witch with the power to pick you up with her mind and throw you around like a rag doll.” (LiStEN, he spent a large chunk of his formative years surrounded by tight spandex suits, villains with sexy mind control pollen and getting kidnapped and tied up every other week. It’s not his fault he’s Like This.)

He’s not mad about it, though.

*

Babs catches him re-reading it during downtime. She’s not even that interested, more asking what it is to be polite, but the way Dick jumps and turns red, like he didn’t even realize she was in the room is… intriguing.

“I can see why you like it,” she says, several days later, casually drinking her coffee while Dick stares straight ahead, willing the floor to open up and swallow him whole. “Magic, politics. Saving the world from certain doom with the power of knowledge and ecological preservation.” She glances sideways at him. “Vlad’s got some interesting quirks.”

“Shut up.”

“Are we sure you’ve not been compromised?”

“Babs, I mean it.”

“Mean what?” Tim appears in the kitchen as though from nowhere, pouring a red bull into the coffee pot.

No one tries to stop him.

“Dick’s reading a new book,” Babs says, ignoring the murderous look Dick sends her way.

“Oh? What book? Is it any good?”

“Uh, yeah, uh.” Dick rubs at the back of his neck, glaring daggers at Babs as she rolls out of the room, cackling. “It’s uh, romance. Kind of silly actually…”

“Oh?”

Dick nods. “It’s got a vampire and a werewolf. Two guys. And a… well she’s just sort of magic. They break into a library to save the world from ecological disaster. They’re all bi. Together. Or they will be in the next book. This one’s more about the vampire and the werewolf getting together. Um...”

Tim’s gone very still in the way he does when his brain has caught hold of something and he’s absolutely about to let it consume him. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Dick shrugs. “It’s got some kink in it,” he warns, not wanting to expose his younger brother to something he’s not ready for. Which is ludicrous because he’s Robin. And from the way Tim’s not drinking his ‘coffee’ he can tell this is only going to go one way no matter what he says. He brightens, remembering something. “But there’s, like, a non smutty version too? Or a less smutty version, I guess? I don’t know, I haven’t read it yet. I could, we could go to the bookstore, maybe stop at the art store too…”

“I’ll meet you in the car.”

*

“So,” Jason says, and Dick can already tell where this is going by the shit-eating grin on his face. “Vampires, huh? Or is it more the werewolves you’re into?”

“Who told you?” Dick bemoans. “Was it Babs?” He bets it was Babs. Fucking Babs.

“Oh, no one told me anything Boy Wonder. Tim found out the author has a go-fund-me for some medical shit that exceeded his monthly allowance and he’s been harassing Bruce to “fix it” for several days now. He’s down in the cave making a nuisance of himself right now. Apparently he quote “needs more of the bisexual monster books Dick told him about” unquote, and the author can’t do shit if she up and fucking dies because this country’s a fucking for-profit shit hole.”

Dick places his head in his hands. “Oh, God. Is Bruce mad? He’s mad, isn’t he?”

Jason shrugs. “Couldn’t tell you. Last I heard, Tim was playing him the audiobook over the bat computer to make his case.”

Dick let’s his head thump against the table. This is it. This is his villain origin story. He’s going to run away and join the Rogues. Or maybe he’ll go back to the Circus. Either option is better than the idea of having to meet Bruce’s eye later over the dinner table.

“Personally, I thought the plot was a little weak but the characters are compelling,” Jason says, sipping his herbal tea. “I liked the chill necromancer doctor. I feel like he’d be able to fix me.”

[tellywoodtrash]

Hey, gonna bring something dark here (tw: rape), so please do not read further and delete this if it's a trigger for you ❤️

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Did you see what's happening with Pearl Puri? He was arrested for raping a minor? And God, his tag has been trending, with people jumping to his defense.

I've always been vocal about normalizing of problematic, abusive nonsense in our media. We all know ITV is particularly guilty of this, and one of the reasons I've been following your blog for years now is because you also call out this absolute fucking nonsense. I've gotten a lot of flak for how much I call all this out irl- 'separate fiction from reality, don't be such a feminist, stop taking everything so seriously' blah blah blah. I'm completely capable of separating fiction from reality, which is why I let myself watch all this trash for entertainment. I worry because not all audiences can do that. I'm an adult woman capable of critical thinking, but there's no denying that young, impressionable girls are also exposed to this content.

What I worry about is situations like what I'm seeing today- young girls in the tag jumping to his defense, because they've seen his character, and they like him, and interviews mein he seemed sweet. I'm not saying the normalization of toxic content is the sole reason for people reacting like this, but I can't deny that the phrases being used are the same ones used by the same fan accounts to justify toxic characters- 'Feminist agenda to blame men' and 'playing the woman card' and 'men are misunderstood in our society, we must give benefit of doubt.' It's hard to not wonder whether lines between reel and real are getting blurred for some young audiences, and it honest to God terrifies me.

Yes, Pearl could be innocent. But he could also not. Why give him the benefit of doubt, and not the minor girl? When will we start believing victims, and stop throwing the exceedingly rare false cases in their faces? I'm also so disappointed by celebrities jumping in with social media support. If he's your friend and you truly believe him, great, you know him personally so you actually have more grounds to believe him than fangirls who like his interviews. I get it, but support him offline na? I'm sure he can stay away from insta for a few days if the online negativity is such a problem. But this just seems like jumping on the bandwagon of a trending topic, when investigation is ongoing. I have seen Anita Hassanandani, Ekta Kapoor, Surbhi Jyoti, Karishma Tanna, Nia Sharma...all these women come to his defense...stay the hell out till the investigation happens, and then do all these #truthwins crap.

Idk how I feel about all this, but it's certainly disheartening. I'm sorry again for bringing all this to your inbox, so please, do feel fully free to delete this message and not respond. Love always to you ❤️

Hi friend!

I certainly appreciate the trigger warning and the consideration in your message. 💞💞💞

I mean, you said everything that I am thinking and feeling. I think as a viewer, I am okay to consume this kind of trash because I am constantly (over)analyzing everything I consume. I am also very very aware that I don’t know a lot of things due to my upper-caste cishet privilege and thus am constantly open to learning. If one is not that kind of discerning, and not doing that kinda work to educate themselves, then they frankly shouldn’t be watching this crap coz lord, the amount of brain rot I am seeing due to people not being able to differentiate between onscreen and off.

I simply do not understand why people can’t get over their bias to think about the sheer power dynamic in this case: he’s a rich celebrity with tons of support from influential people, and the victim is/was a MINOR. Even if the accusation is false, what has he suffered? Literally nothing. He spent a few hours in jail and then will be vindicated. What if the accusation is true? The victim has gone through so much more; a crime of a sexual nature, WHILE BEING UNDERAGE, and then no doubt lots of persecution when filing a report against someone so powerful, and now a social media pile-on, and a trauma that they will have to work on their whole life to overcome. It’s literally not comparable. Fuck people who cannot understand this kinda basic concept.

I’m tired, i’m just fucking tired of it all. I just can wish power to those who have suffered and continue to suffer. May they be believed, may they receive justice, and in the process, if all of this fakeass, meaningless glitz and glamour burns down to the ground to never ever rise again, so fucking be it.