#trying to figure out how to draw these guys

[anavilante]

@caterina07121 The flak-happy moment is one of my absolute favorite moments in this film. I could talk about it for hours. What Bucky did there is something that is highly condemned in the military community by higher command. Relating this to Harding, for example, a lower-ranking officer has no right to speak to you like that during wartime. You're the boss, and you’re supposed to be an authority figure for these guys, an authority so strong that you can send them to their deaths, and they’ll accept it with understanding. That’s why your authority must be unshakable and inviolable.

But Bucky had this confrontation with him not one-on-one about a specific disagreement—he did it deliberately, publicly, demonstratively in front of the other guys. Honestly, he should have gotten into serious trouble for that stunt… but Harding doesn’t punish him. Because in reality, Bucky in that moment is flak-happy—he’s reckless and beyond caring about his personal safety. Harding should punish him, but he doesn’t, because this guy is out there flying and directly experiencing the horrors himself in the sky, while Harding remains on the ground. And this says a lot about Harding as a commander.

And then there’s Gale’s reaction in that moment, it’s so interesting how he looks at John, warningly, almost pleading with him to stop, yet does nothing. Because this isn’t their fun, friendly banter where Bucky allows Gale to rein him in.

No, this is a confrontation with the boss, and Gale just quietly stands there, capable only of glancing at John, sending signals that it’s better to shut up, but still not intervening in the conflict.

By the way, pay attention to how heavily Gale is breathing ⬆, how emotionally involved he is in this scene, even though he’s standing off to the side, trying to fool everyone with his poker face. He’s scared that John will face serious punishment for his outburst, and at the same time, he’s powerless to do anything about it.

This scene is so primal it makes me want to howl. One day, I’ll draw parallels with animals in it.

And after everything is over, Gale doesn’t lash out at Bucky, doesn’t smack him on the forehead with a “You idiot, what were you thinking?!” Quite the opposite, actually. He gently and subtly tries to distract Bucky, to soften his aggressive mood.

This scene is truly a masterpiece.

And I haven’t even mentioned how brilliantly it’s shot. There’s the foreground with John and Harding, the background with the other pilots, and then Gale, who doesn’t belong to either the foreground or the background - he holds his own unique space in the middle. The cinematography here is absolutely magical.✨

Masters of the Air - Season 1 Episode 4

[kazkat-draws-the-days]

Trying to figure out how to draw my favorite guy after SOMEONE (cough cough, @whataphantasia) got me obsessed with fnv

I like to imagine his face stretches horizontally when hes strained :]

[fluentmoviequoter]

Arrest Me, Cop Cutie

Part 1 -> Part 2 -> Part 3

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After another failed attempt at a date, Tim goes undercover. You have no choice but to arrest him, and he's unhappy with the decisions you make trying to do so.

Warnings: brief angst, minor injuries, fluff, Tim gets flirty when he's undercover, mention of drug trafficking, typical show warnings

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

she puts the short in shorty, and he looks like he wants to chase me. cop cuties, cute and on duty, navy blue booties, go ahead and lock me up.

“So,” you begin.

“Don’t,” Tim interrupts, raising one hand from the steering wheel to point at you. “Just don’t.”

“Big, bad Bradford believes in jinxing?” you ask sarcastically. “And here I thought you were just keeping up appearances to hide the softie within.”

Tim sighs, slowing as he hits his blinker. You’ve been trying to get dinner together for weeks. Something comes up whenever you attempt to go somewhere together or meet at a restaurant. The first time, Tim got called in for a last-minute Metro assignment. Most recently, you were both alerted of a nearby officer-involved shooting. So far, tonight seems quiet, but you understand Tim’s hesitance to admit it. Though you’re still confused about why Tim agreed to get dinner with you after you handcuffed him to a guardrail in a warehouse-turned-drug-house, you want the date to go well. Is it a date? you ask yourself. Tim never clarified if this was for both of you or just for the apology you offered to give.

Tim parks outside a restaurant Lucy recommended and waits for a moment. Everything remains calm, and you smile because you can finally have dinner with Tim Bradford.

And then your phone rings, so the moment is shattered.

“Hello?” you greet, closing your eyes. You listen to Angela’s quick recount of the last half hour, then say, “Yeah, I can be there in a few minutes… Mmhmm, no problem.”

Ending the call, you drop your phone to your lap and shake your head. “I’m so sorry, Tim. Lopez needs-“

Tim’s phone ringing cuts you off, and he shows you Angela’s name on the caller ID before he answers. A moment later, he shifts into reverse and backs out of the parking space.

“Jake Butler,” Tim says. “I thought we threw him in jail after the Vegas incident.”

“We did,” you answer flatly. “Guess he got out. If I find him, he’s going to pay for ruining everything.”

“Did Angela tell you anything else?”

“Just that he was back on their radar, and they saw an opening to figure out the operation.”

“Fantastic,” Tim deadpans.

“Hey, bro!” Jake exclaims as you and Tim enter the interview room with Angela. “Whoa, you clean up nice, man? You on a date or something?”

“Something,” Tim replies, crossing his arms over his chest. “Get to the point, Butler.”

“Must’ve been a good something,” Jake murmurs. He looks at you and smiles before explaining the deal going down tonight.

“What is your boss expecting you to bring?” you inquire.

“Good work ethic,” he says, shrugging. “And product, obviously.”

“How much product?” Tim presses.

“The exact amount that is in my car.”

“We’ll be confiscating all of that after the operation,” Angela reminds him. Turning to you, she says, “He’s offering his car as part of the deal with the DA. This guy has only spoken to Jake here on the phone, so there’s not much of a chance of anyone close to him noticing any difference when Tim walks in.”

“Yeah,” Jake drawls. “Y’all see the tats, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “We see the tats.”

“How long do we have?” Tim asks.

“Drop is at 6,” Jake says. “I park in the underground lot, go up to his penthouse, and we work from there.”

“Specific,” you mumble, drawing a grunt from Tim.

“Thanks, Mr. Butler,” Angela says. “And if anything you told us was wrong, we’re throwing your deal in the gutter with your future. Okay?”

“Yeah, shawty.”

Tim rolls his eyes and follows Angela out of the room. You linger until the door is closed and ask, “Is there anything else you think you should tell us?”

“There’s a panic room,” Jake admits. “Code was 1016 last I was there.”

You nod, then exit the room and wonder what you’d be doing right now if your night had gone according to plan.

“UC parked in 238, underground lot,” someone radios.

You watch the cameras in the surveillance van, tracking Tim’s movements toward the penthouse. While Tim was being transformed to look like Jake, you insisted on staying with Metro for the duration of the operation. You must be close enough to bail Tim out if things go south, you explained. Your captain then brought up the defiance of direct orders during your last Metro op. You were only allowed to join the team with Angela’s vote of confidence and your promise to do anything and everything they say to keep Bradford safe.

Tim knocks on the door and greets the large, armed man who opens it. He sounds like Jake, but you know it’s Tim, and your heart rate speeds up with each step he takes inside. Once he’s in the penthouse, you can’t see him. You can hear him through a long-distance microphone attached to the sniper’s rifle across the street. His tracker blinks on one of the screens, and you clench your jaw as you listen and watch.

“Where’s my stuff, Butler?” someone yells.

“Whoa, man, I wasn’t gonna cart that kind of purchase past the doorman,” Tim argues with a chuckle.

“Whose decision is that? Whose paying for all of it? Who got you out of jail?!”

That answers one question.

“Last we talked, you told me to park, come up here, and we’d work from there,” Tim reminds him. “If you changed the plan without telling me, I guess that’s on me.”

“That was never the plan. Are you trying to screw me, Butler?”

“Nah, man, just a miscommunication. Tell me what you want me to do to fix it.”

The man hesitates, then repeats, “Fix it?”

You stand as the officer sitting across from you prepares to open the door. The van is painted to look like an internet service vehicle, so you could park close to the apartments where Tim is.

“Yeah, I’ll do whatever it takes,” Tim replies.

The unmistakable sound of guns racking fills the van, and the Metro commander radios for everyone to move in now. Running through the parking lot and into the building, you don’t notice the stares you receive, only the intel communicated through your earpiece.

“UC held at gunpoint,” the sniper alerts. “I don’t have a clear shot. Three armed men, plus two at the door.”

“Suspect has cameras on his floor,” another voice says. “Approach from the southern elevators and utilize limited penetration entry through the front door.”

You race up the steps, your heart pounding like it will break through your ribs. Tim is in danger, his life is being threatened, and you’re terrified that you’re too far away to save him. When you reach the landing on the penthouse floor, you struggle to focus on your job. With a deep breath, you remind yourself to obey for Tim. If you rush in, you’ll just get yourself killed, too.

“Hold!” the commander instructs. “We’ve lost visual. UC is moving west.”

“There’s nothing to the west,” Angela replies. “It’s blocked off. Probably utilities.”

“The panic room!” you remember.

“Butler didn’t tell you where it was,” she argues. “We can’t tell on thermal.”

“It’s probably lined, but you’re right.”

“We don’t have time to wait,” Angela decides. “Assume our UC is in the panic room but keep your eyes open and stay alert. Breach.”

You’re fourth in line as you enter the penthouse. Seven Metro officers against five armed criminals is as close to a fair fight as you can expect in your line of work. When you step inside, the man who was guarding the door runs toward you. Dropping your gun, you brace yourself against his hit. His hands shove into your shoulders, and you grip his wrists as he pushes you against the wall. Everyone around you is fighting, so you hold your own against a man who outweighs you and towers over you. Tim is nowhere in sight, nor is Jake’s employer, so you’ll have to fight through this chaos to find him.

Tim watches as the man leading him through a lead-lined hallway types 1-0-1-6 into a keypad. It opens a door into what is clearly a doomsday-style panic room, and he raises his hands as he’s shepherded into it. The heavy doors silence the fight outside, so Tim doesn’t know whether his backup is on the way or if they can locate this well-hidden last resort.

“Where’d the cops come from, Butler? You workin’ with them now?” the man demands, brandishing a curved knife.

“What cops, man?” Tim asks, his voice rising in imitation of Jake.

“The doorman saw a whole team of uniformed tactical guys rush into the place! That’s not what I signed up for.”

“Me neither! Do I look like I’d be making a deal with cops? I’m low-time, I’d go to jail either way and you know better than some attorney that I don’t do cells.”

“Then tell me how they found us right after you did!”

Tim steps back, creating room between himself and the knife. Without any weapons, he would prefer to de-escalate the situation verbally if possible. As the man looks at him, he sees a crazy look in his eyes and assumes the verbal response is no longer an option.

The Metro officers who entered the penthouse with you zip-tie the wrists of the five armed men while you look for an entrance to the panic room. A small latch on the side of a bookshelf catches your attention, and you tug it. The shelf pops away from the door, and a hiss sounds as you pull it open farther.

“I’ll get the UC,” you offer.

“We’ll keep these guys quiet,” an officer replies. “Radio if you need help.”

You nod once, then jog into the hallway. There’s a keypad halfway down the hall, and you hold your tongue between your teeth as you type in the code Jake gave you. Another door hisses as its seal is broken.

“Knock knock!” you call, raising your gun to your shoulder as you move toward the lead door. “LAPD Metro, come out with your hands up!”

You’re met with silence, and you work to steady your breath as you near the door. Before you nudge it open, someone hits it with a quick downward slap. Off-balance, you let the gun fall as you stumble inside.

The man you recognize as Jake’s employer manages to get you on the ground, and you twist to elbow him in the throat. He swings his fist down, and you don’t see the blade tucked between his fingers. He hits your jaw, and your cheekbone stings as the tip of the knife scrapes across it. Pulling your knee up, you aim between his legs. He buckles forward, and you wrap your arms around his upper body. Swinging your leg, you flip to be on top of him.

Panting, you demand, “Roll over. You’re under arrest.”

He groans and doesn’t move. After you knock the knife away from him, you pull his arm to flip him onto his stomach. With your knee pressing between his kidneys, you pull a zip-toe closed around his wrists, then sit back on your heels.

Tim smirks at your position, and you shake your head as you move into a half-kneel position. Wiping blood from your cheek, you push yourself to your feet.

“Jake Butler, you’re under arrest,” you say. “Put your hands behind your head, interlace your fingers.”

Tim looks at your cut cheek, then at the man zip-tied and squirming in pain beneath you.

“Yeah, I’ll comply,” Tim drawls. “Since I’m making it easy, could you try to make the whole arrest me thing a little sexy? I’ve always had a thing for cop cuties, with their navy blue booties.”

“Shut up,” you demand as you pull his hands behind his back.

“Yeah, go ahead and lock me up,” he continues as you secure the handcuffs around his wrists.

“I’m 10-4 in the panic room. Butler and his employer are in custody,” you radio.

An officer appears in the doorway to help you escort both men to the patrol cars waiting outside the lobby. He hauls Jake’s boss to his feet and leads him out of the panic room. You follow, leading Tim through the penthouse and into the hall.

After the elevator closes and all the arrested men have been escorted out, you remove his cuffs. He turns toward you quickly, his jaw clenched tightly. You recognize the look and know he’s about to yell at you.

“I know, I know, you never put the cuffs on me,” you say before he can begin. “Sorry, but there were too many people who could see.”

“You really think that’s what I’m mad about?” Tim questions. “I don’t care what you do to UCs.”

“Then what are you mad about?” you ask softly.

Tim raises his hand to your face but stops before he touches you. His hand falls, and he says, “You got hurt. Medics will be ready at the station.”

As Tim turns away from you, you wish he had touched you.

At the end of the day, you exit the station and sigh. You received treatment for your minor injuries, completed the reports, and patrolled before your end of shift. Walking through the parking lot, you keep your eyes down and think about last night.

“A cut cheek isn’t getting you out of dinner,” Tim calls.

You look up at the sound of his voice and see him leaning against the tailgate of his truck.

“If you’re still up for it,” he adds.

“You’re just saying that because I’m a cop cutie,” you reply, smiling.

Tim groans at the reminder of what he said while he was undercover. He raises his hand again, but this time, he places his palm on your jaw and gently traces the bottom of your bandage. His movement and his touch say more than he ever has.

“If we finally go on a date, do you think we could stop arresting each other?” you inquire.

“Maybe,” he answers, opening the passenger door for you.

“That sounded too hopeful.”

[peace-hunter]

the power's out at work so you guys get my sketched in the dark scribbles. i'm trying to figure out how to draw baby orion. it's surprisingly difficult OTL

[lakunalaika]

Don't have anything new to post rn so here have a (sorta) older sketch of Predaking!

I still can't figure out how to draw this guy but I'm really fucking stubborn so I'll just keep trying.

{click for better quality!!}

[nemesis-writer]

Five Minutes (Chapter 3)

Masterlist Let the Games Begin TW: mentions of blood, mental illness

The Waynes were waiting in agony for their first game. They were prepared to battle it together. But what they didn't know is that they each of them have to go through it alone.

In the Base...

I'm only known as Eurus in the underground world but my name shall always be (Y/N). I have built myself up all the way just to taste the blood in my hands. I was never gonna be the next Robin nor Batman, so why not create a name for my own.

I was able to send the letter for the first test for them, and have it sent anonymously. Now, I need to sleep as well.

I maybe a concierge of crime, but I also need to be with my baby.

At the Waynes'...

Everyone had to keep their eyes peeled and remain unflinching. Whenever there is a delivery or a package, there is always an inspection with x-rays in order to make sure that it's harmless.

They had to take extra precautions in order to prevent the exploitation of their identities, along with the ramifications of their 'stainless' reputation.

Until it was finally there...

The first game.

It had 'DAMIAN.' Written in capital letters, and in the notorious green color designed. Thanks Riddler.

The letter...

There's a child's life on the line Little Demon. If you try to pull anything, so here's a little riddle.

Here's a riddle based on Squid Game, Saw, and a basement:

'In shadows deep, where fear does grow, A game begins, you do not know. With each step forward, the danger nears, The stakes are high, and so are fears.

Twisted minds, with plans so sly, Trapped in a place where you can't ask why. A room cold, with echoes loud, Walls closing in, no escape allowed.

Through chains and locks, you struggle, fight, But only the brave can see the light. The clock is ticking, time is tight, Where are you now? What’s out of sight?'

"Bruce, what does this mean?", Damian wonders.

"Walls closing in? Trapped in a- Oh shit." Bruce cursed. It was an unusual sight for Bruce to curse since he was usually informed how barbaric it was by Alfred.

"It's a basement of an abandoned factory." Bruce stated.

"A bit more specific since there's like a hundred of them especially in Gotham." Jason says.

"Alright so I need everyone to split up and go through every abandoned factory and if anyone sees any sign of life or a clue then speak in the comms." Bruce commanded.

They all spread out one by one looking for the kid or at least a clue. Factory to factory, street to street, they searched high and low and even the most minute details weren't left out.

Until they finally found it.

The first clue.

"Guys I found the first clue, I'm in Bludhaven Street."yelled Dick.

Everyone rushed and reached the basement. It also showed an old, probably made in the 1900's, telephone. They were too eager to even notice the hidden security cameras.

Damian eagerly opened it and read:

'In a room so small, the walls feel tight, A game is set, but not of delight. No choice, no chance to run away, You must stay sharp and make your play.

The door is locked, the air is cold, Silent whispers of the truth untold. A puzzle waits, a test of mind, With every step, danger you’ll find.

Ticking sounds, a faint warning near, What’s hidden here is crystal clear. Almost there, the end in sight— But tread carefully, or face the night.'

'Room, ticking, no chance, locked door.' Bruce tries to think of it.

"A bomb in an apartment." Jason figured out and yelled. All the the sudden the phone starts to ring.

"Someone answer the phone," Cassandra yelled.

"You answer the fucking phone," Damian replied.

"This is your test Demon Spawn there is a kid on the line and more people with the kid." Jason retorts.

Damian reluctantly answered the phone and heard:

'Congratulations for the first game, Where blood will spill and none’s to blame. A twisted start, a sinister plot, A place where hope is soon forgot.

The faces cold, their eyes wide with fear, For every step, a fate draws near. No room for mercy, no chance to flee, In this cruel game, there’s no decree.

As the doors close, the lights grow dim, The air grows thick with a haunting hymn. A moment's silence, a final breath, The line between life and certain death.

Congratulations for the first game, But it’s too late now to place the blame. Tick-tock, tick-tock, it’s time to spin, Let the games begin.'

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e, @eyeless-kun, @errorunfound1, @gwyneveire, @alishii, @cxcillia

[ibrithir-was-here]

The Goblin King's Huntsman

Ok so, I have been unable to draw or write for a few weeks now, so here's an old thing for the sake of feeling like I'm sharing something :/

Ages ago, I had a dream where Sarah went back to the Labyrinth with an older Toby, and got chased around by a masked figure sent by the Goblin King to capture her and take her prisoner. But eventually, as one does in dreams, the sense came that this persuer was just as much a prisoner of the Labyrinth, and when I woke up I started trying to craft a story for how he ended up as the Goblin King's Huntsman (I think I actually ended up headcanoning he was also the guy with the Muppet Blind Pew type mask at the Goblin Ball who keeps showing up watching Sarah and Jareth)

Long ago, when the mountains we know were no more than mole hills, and our mole hills were taller than the tallest mountains, a king’s daughter lay abed, wasting away from Melancholy. Her one true love had gone away to war, and had never returned. Now it looked as if she would soon follow him. 

Her father, the king, was distraught with grief and worry. He called all his wizards and wise women to help the princess, but none could discover a spell to cure her. They tried all manner of  weird and worrisome things, slime and snails, puppy dog tails, thunder and lightening. But nothing they tried worked. The princess grew paler and paler and weaker and weaker each day.

Finally, her father could bear it no longer, and in his grief, made a rash bargain. Now, this kingdom bordered that of the Labyrinth, ruled by the fearsome Goblin King, who would grant you  a wish if you said the right words, but never without a price. It was to him that the king turned. If the Goblin King would help his daughter, he promised to give him anything his heart desired. And the Goblin King agreed.

"But you must keep your word”, He warned, or terrible things would befall the king’s house.

 That very night, the Goblin King flew to the castle, entering the chamber of the princess in a beam of moonlight, as she lay motionless upon her bed. Taking her by her cold hand, he asked her what would be the first thing she would do if her heart was light once more. Thinking that she dreamt, the Princess replied that if the cause of her sorrow were taken away, she would dance away the night until the sun filled the sky.

With that, the Goblin King lifted her right out of the bed, declaring that they would do just that. And in the blink of an eye the Princess found herself in a beautiful ballroom, dressed in a gown made of tears and moonlight. There, amid a throng of strange and wondrous people, she danced away the night in the arms of the Goblin King. This went on every night for a month, and each day the Princess’s eyes grew brighter, and her cheeks more rosy, and she began to smile more and more.

The court was delighted, and none more so than the king, who had quite forgotten he still had yet to pay the Goblin King’s Price.  The day soon came, however, that the Goblin King presented the glowing Princess to the court, as fresh and lively as she had been before her One True Love was forced to leave her.

“Your daughter is well once more, neighbor.” said the Goblin King, “And now I would name my price, and I ask for the Princess Seraphine's hand in marriage.”

A cry of shock rang through the court, and none were more stunned by this request than the Princess herself. For though she was grateful to the Goblin King, and now considered him a dear friend, she did not love him,and could not think of anything she had said or done to make him think otherwise.

 “Sir, I will always be your friend, but I cannot marry you. My heart still belongs to Prince Meander, and ever shall until the day I too shall die, and be with him again.”

“ But the Prince is gone, my lady,  never to return. And besides, your father promised when he sought my services to grant whatever request I should ask of him. In my kingdom, you will never die, and as my wife, you  have to ask, and I will turn the universe upside down for your sake.”

Again, the princess repeated her assurance of gratitude and friendship, but stated that no matter what her father had promised, she had made no such bargain, and was not bound to uphold it. She did not love him, and would not marry him. At this second refusal, the Goblin King grew angry, and might have done something in his anger that he would have regretted, but at that moment, the doors to the palace burst open, and a stooped and haggard man stumbled into the hall.

His hair had grown long, and a patch covered one eye. His clothes were tattered and torn, and his armor had long since rusted. But the Princess knew him at once, and rushed to his side before he could fall. It was her One True Love, come back to her against all odds. 

They fell into each other arms, and kissed as only those who have walked beneath the shadow of death and come back into the sunlight can. And their kiss was so pure, and so true, that though they did not know it, the Goblin King’s claim upon the King and the Princess was utterly broken, for this kiss had healed her far more than any of his magics had.  For a long moment after, the Prince and Princess simply held each other, overcome with joy upon being united. Then the Prince’s eye fell upon the Goblin King.

“Ah! You dare show your face here villain?! You whose fell creatures aided the ranks of our enemies, and you whose dark fogs of forgetting spread out across the fields, ensnaring those trying to return home after? Many a dark and dangerous road I’ve traveled to find my love again.  I know not what mischief you do here, but it ends now!” And he drew a rust cankered sword upon the Goblin King.

The Goblin King did not move, or speak, he simply stood, staring at the lovers. The half-blind prince, with one arm around the Princess, who was holding the shivering, shaking man up as best she could. Her eyes had grown wide as she heard the Prince’s tale, and now they were dark and cold as they looked upon the Goblin King. Finally, with a sweep of his cloak, he bowed to the couple, sneering.

“It seems your ladyship need not wait till Death’s embrace to reunite with your lover. As you’ve made your feelings quite clear, I shall respect your wish, and pursue my suit no further. However, remember this--” 

And in a flash quicker than a strike of lightning, he was by the Princess’s side, whispering into her ear, with all the spite and malice he possessed:

 “The Price is still not paid…”

And then, he was gone.

The kingdom did not see nor hear anything of their worrisome neighbor for many a year, and by and by the unease left by the Goblin King’s threat was lifted. The reunited Prince and Princess were soon married, and in time, the Princess, now the Queen, gave birth to a healthy son, who grew into a fine young boy. He loved nothing more than to wander the fields and forests that lined his kingdom, making friends with all he met, noble or peasant, animal or fae. He was a kind and gentle boy, loved by all who knew him, so that he was never without a friendly eye watching over him, which eased his parent’s worries.

And then one day, when he was seven years old, he wandered farther than was his want, as though drawn by some strange and silent music. Past the orchards and fields, past the forests and falls, up the airy mountain, down the  rushing glen, into a strange waste land of bracken and gorse, until suddenly, he came upon a gate, bound to a stone wall that seemed to stretch endlessly out across the horizon. 

There was something odd and foreboding about the place, but the young prince was not afraid, for he had never before had need to fear. All the world was his friend. And so without hesitation, he pushed upon the heavy gate. It swung open easily, and the prince skipped inside as it shut silently behind him.

And from that day, his grieving parents never saw the young prince again.

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

MY HERO!!!

Srsly tho thank you for your analysis.. idk why but I have seemingly endless energy and thoughts when it comes to reading way too far into like every throwaway line Steph says but whenever I read this comic and look at the riddles my mind just totally blanks. No fucking clue.

That being said your breakdown has definitely sparked some ideas for me!

For the first riddle, maybe it’s my uncharitable read of Arthur’s characer, but I find it unlikely he would admit in front of other criminals that he sees his daughter as something precious to him. He usually puts up a tough front. On the other hand, it’s not like The Riddler isn’t an extremely intelligent man, he could probably read in between the lines even if Arthur never said as much directly. Agreed that the gift is almost certainly Steph. Still thinking on what the ‘theft that gives’ could possibly mean and coming up blank however.

If the gift of Steph keeps ‘taking’ it might be that Arthur saw what was meant to be a ‘gift’, his child, not being a gift and instead taking away from him and inconveniencing him instead, as Spoiler. It’s possible the theft is of Arthur’s freedom?

Agreed that Arthur seems to have have a habit of abusing Steph and threatening to kill her only to do a 180 and profess how supposedly important she is to him once she’s actually dead, or when she’s not around to hear it.

For the second one, I really like your take. The fact that we’re discussing two bugs here is especially interesting/ hard to parse. I definitely agree that one of the bugs is supposed to be Stephanie. What especially interests me is the fact that the Cluemaster stopped leaving clues by the time that Steph first appears on the scene as Spoiler. Most (all?) of his post crisis crimes don’t involve him leaving clues behind. Maybe that’s the transformation?

Three is so interesting 100 percent agreed, no notes.

Judgement Day as a response to Stephanie’s question could be a call to the idea that no one knows? Much like no one can tell their fate until Judgement day occurs (which you’re not really alive for I guess as per the riddle), Nygma is trying to indicate no one but god could know why Arthur did what he did now that he’s ‘dead’, and supposably no one will ever be able to know. Maybe. Ugh, I hate riddles.

On the oxen riddle, the tiger is as effective at violence as the Oxen, if not more, to me the riddle is drawing attention to the idea that someone only sees the aspects of a person which include the things they themselves value in themselves. I don’t know how that applies but figured I’d add that on.

I’m thinking you’re probably dead on with the last one, but I simply would never have put that together on my own so thank you again.

Overall I think you’re right with the idea that The Riddler is probably not trying to answer Stephanie’s questions honestly via riddle format, and that his riddles are likely more of a response to Stephanie’s asking of her questions at all. thats one of the things I’ve been caught up on, assuming the riddlers riddles are a direct and honest response to her questions just because he seems to agrees to answer her. Honestly, that’s on me for expecting only one layer of abstraction from the guy who goes by The Riddler.

Anyways thank you for throwing your awesome interpretations into the ring so I didn’t have to try to figure these out myself. I’m not good enough at riddles for that. I’m not good at riddles at all.

I'm gonna have a go at the riddles which The Riddler throws at Stephanie Brown in Robin (1993) #113. @a-bad-case-of-the-stephs I'm hoping you can help me out, haven't actually read Robin in well over a year.

It's a gift that keeps on taking. It's a theft that keeps on giving. Having a child is the "gift" and when Arthur was imprisoned or estranged, his child was "stolen" from him. When Stephanie came into Arthur's life, he saw her as a "white elephant", but when he no longer had her, he became driven by the idea of her.

One bug is wrapped in a web, therein to die. Another bug is wrapped in its own web, there to be reborn. In a sense, being tangled in a web can be fatal but it can also indicate introspection and growth. Arthur's obsession with leaving clues were often his undoing so will Stephanie preoccupation with her father be her's or will it actually represent reflection and change?

There is a dog in the manger, but it cannot subsist on hay. A manger is a feeder for livestock, typically holding hay; which dogs do not eat. A "dog in a manger" is a person who spitefully refuses to let someone else benefit from (or let go of) something for which he or she has no personal use (dictionary.com). But dogs cannot subsist on hay and the livestock cannot eat with the dog in the manger. If the dog doesn't relent or change, then everyone loses. Stephanie is the dog and her memory of her father is the manger she cannot let go of.

What day of the week has no man ever lived to see? Judgement day. You have to be dead to see it. And they're both very much alive.

The Tiger envies the Oxen but only understands its horns. The Tiger envies the Oxen's power but it only understands power through the language of violence. Steph easily outmatches The Riddler in a fight yet is confused how he still holds all the cards although she attacks him because she only speaks the language of violence.

I am the number you cannot count on your fingers. Edit: he’s saying Steph’s missing the point; you can’t count him on your fingers, he’s not that kind of number.

Would love some input.

[technocite]

It's Always Sunny In Höllvania

[marosii]

Can't stop thinking about the 1984 Sherlock Holmes

[flowersnax]

pizza guys

[boycritter]

911 doodles

[humming-fly]

The 2D vs 3D contrast of the sonic and shadow generation hubworlds cracks me up the more I think about it

Bonus:

[fugitoiid]

MACHINE!!!!!!!!! they don't love you like i love you...

[amoebeau]

doodle dump of unrelated things. rotating stupid animals in my mind

[saragrosie]

Discooooooooooooooooooo