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#and we will be there to meet it
forestofsprites · 2 months
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i think that sometimes the best thing that you can do is remind yourself that there are beaches. lakes, rivers, and ponds. there are forests. little woods and meadows. there are canyons. gullies and mountain cliffs. there are rainy days. dry spells and scorching blue skies. that the world turns. changes as much as it repeats. that feeling slow today won't stop tomorrow's high tide. won't make july's blackberries any less ripe
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sick of this anti-aging obsession. let's go in the opposite direction. i want more characters who are hardened & grizzled & have a face lined with the harrowing tribulations of time--and then halfway through the narrative u find out they're 27
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refugeed-kim · 2 months
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YES YES I NEED THIS SIGN IN EVERY SINGLE PARK PLEASE
This is my daily struggle, I had so many arguments with people with off-leash dogs (in a mandatory leash area!!!). Thanks to this behavior I'm struggling with Kim being anxious/aggressive with other females as she often gets involved in unpleased interactions with free females while on leash. And every single time that I ask for the dog to be at least recalled, I'm being called names and insulted of course.
Also 9 out of 10 their dog isn't really that friendly at all.
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ash-and-starlight · 2 months
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taking the crumbs of venetian agna qel’a chewing biting gnashing on them until there aren’t even bones left and then spitting out. carnevale northern water tribe style
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Gay people will be like “this is my comfort show!” And then show you the most emotionally devastating, stress-inducing, tragic piece of media you have ever witnessed
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caemidraws · 9 days
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Eclipse
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inkskinned · 10 months
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME#there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing#and the writing is what i need to be doing#writeblr#this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to#edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol#i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means#i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong#i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse#i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO#i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness#and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it#im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us#i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer#and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work#even if it means being miserable#but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.
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egophiliac · 15 days
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IT WAS ERIC AFTER ALL!!!! I'm so glad we got to meet him (before Vil snaps him away with those Infinity Gauntlets) (can't wait to see what happens when we get the matching Infinity Tiara to go with them, there will be no survivors)
(sorry to be so slow/rough lately, just got a lot of stuff on the ol' brain at the moment! alas, if only I could spend all my time drawing incredibly stupid characters I mean I do but)
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* “go-to” doesn’t mean “only”! there’s a bunch of situational signoffs I haven’t put here, this is more about what you use by default
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zosanbrainrot · 4 months
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this is how I see them
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beeturtlle · 9 days
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Maizula nation please where r u
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fellshish · 9 months
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The metaphor kills me. You can’t turn a turnip into an inkwell the way you can’t turn crowley into an angel devoted to heaven
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emo-batboy · 8 months
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Battinson and the JL ft. His Eventual Identity Reveal
(If you’re just here for the cutesy bits, skip to Attempt #2. Otherwise, STRAP IN CUZ IT’S A LOT)
Bruce Wayne of Matt Reeves’ The Batman is not the founder type.
He wouldn’t voluntarily join a book club, much less join a league of super powered vigilantes whom he does not know personally.
So in this universe, you probably wouldn’t call him one of the three Founding members.
But he’s still integral to the formation of the Justice League
It starts out with a friendly visit :)
Bruce is patrolling on a random night in Gotham when he notices a weird thing in the sky. It’s floating just far enough behind him that a less vigilant person wouldn’t have noticed, but Bruce is always watching his own back, and he takes it as a threat.
He strays from his usual path and then heads to a warehouse roof before turning to face the threat.
It’s Superman. All smiley and dressed in primary colors. The strongest, most powerful being on Earth just floating over like he wasn’t stalking Batman a second ago. Bruce does not like that.
“What do you want with Gotham?” He asks. “I don’t,” Superman says. “I wanted to talk to The Batman.” So this is some kind of fight? An intervention? A warning? Then Superman frowns. “You…are The Batman, right?”
Bruce only nods as he considers his options, but he can’t really do that when Superman has super speed, super sight, super strength, super breath, super lots-of-things-that-Batman-probably-doesn’t-know-of.
Then Superman surprises him by landing on the roof and giving him this pitch about a superhero group.
Superman and a few other vigilantes have been bouncing around the idea of teaming up together so they can help one another protect their cities. And The Batman was a “perfect candidate.”
“I’m not joining your club.” “It’s not a club. It’s a league.” “What’s your mission statement, then?” “A what?” Bruce fights the urge to roll his eyes. He still doesn’t trust this guy. “Take your league idea back to the drawing board then we can talk.” He does not intend on talking.
But two months later, Superman is back. This time, he brings another super powered vigilante named Wonder Woman.
She smiles, politely approaches him, and says “Superman tells me you want to learn more about our league.” That is not what he said, but he doesn’t bite.
Bruce can’t decide which they remind him of more: college recruiters or cult leaders. But because Wonder Woman genuinely seems to care about seeing this project through, and the roster she has of current like-minded vigilantes is impressive, he lets her talk.
And to give her credit, she definitely thought out the logistics more. It almost makes up for the time they’re wasting.
Okay, fine. They’re still way behind on concept, and it’s pitiful. He actually feels bad.
They obviously care! They just have no idea how to run a business like he does. Is it a bit cynical to think of this league of Justice as a business? Yes, but that’s the only way he can even conceive this happening and working.
Bruce asks about their organization’s leadership structure, and that’s when Wonder Woman falters a bit. “We want to work with each other, not for.” Bruce bites his tongue on that subject.
He asks about their scope of work. “We want to help as many people as we can, but that can be ironed out later.” Bruce bites his tongue on that subject.
He asks “Who’s funding this?” She answers, “We have a few members willing to pitch in, but the majority will have to come from generous citizens.” And that’s when he just stops asking questions. Because what?
If he could cry the grease paint off, he would.
They can’t just think every super-powered vigilante is going to sing Kumbaya and braid each other’s hair. There needs to be checks and balances within the organization to avoid tyranny and corruption. They need a reliable source of donations (that doesn’t immediately out Bruce.) They need a proper chain of command. They need to map out their area of responsibility. They need to design a VERY strict vetting process. It’s not sunshine and rainbows. It’s hard work!
So he says he’ll think about it again and complains to Alfred about the weird super stalkers.
But for SOME reason, Alfred doesn’t see the problem
Alfred encourages him to join so he can “make some friends.” But how can he trust these people if they can’t even make a half-decent pitch? It’s like a bad episode of Shark Tank.
And “make friends?” They’re all masked
But after a week of gentle nudging (read: very firm lectures), Bruce agrees. ONLY to keep tabs on the rest of the vigilante world and possible threats to Gotham
(And without his help, they’ll probably butt-dial Lex Luthor the nuclear codes or something)
And he is damn well going to figure out who these people really are before he helps them make a Super Organization.
Alfred figures out about half of their secret identities purely as a brain exercise while Bruce is out fighting crime and collecting head injuries like Pokémon cards. They figure out the rest together.
They also develop contingency plans for every single member. Just in case.
And after months of Batman being visited by random vigilantes, whom he has several choice words for about personal space—“This is my city. Go away.”—he accepts. On several conditions.
Not all of them are appreciated.
Attempt #1: “Making Friends”
After several scheduling conflicts, a lot of prep work, and a really good hype session in front of the mirror, Bruce heads on over to the first official meeting.
Batman arrives with a long list of things they need to do before going public. The first thing on the list?
Write A Mission Statement
What the fuck are they actually trying to do? Bruce thinks this is a great starting point.
And you’d think (you’d think) this Justice League thing would be easier to tolerate than the drawn-out exec meetings he has to sit through with boring, old businessmen who keep delaying things so they can hash out every little detail.
To Bruce’s absolute horror, he BECOMES the boring businessman who’s delaying things so they can hash out every little detail. He misses the boring, old businessmen. At least they knew what they were doing.
Every turn, he is argued with.
“Why do we need a mission statement?” “‘Power Structure’ feels authoritarian. Can’t we just share leadership duties?” “Do we really need this much paperwork?”
Bruce has the audacity to say, “We need to develop some sort of protocol that helps us analyze any possible threat.” But no. “Why can’t I just jump in? I have eyes.” “Jumping in without studying an opponent’s behavior could cause more harm than good,” he insists. “So what? I’m going to watch an alien monster go on a rampage through my city instead of fighting it?” “Yes. You don’t know what it’s capable of.”
Bruce already regrets joining.
All he hears is the others gossiping. “Is this guy really telling us how to be heroes?” “He’s got a major stick up his ass.” “I knew we shouldn’t have let him join.” And if that doesn’t dissuade him, he doesn’t know what will.
“How was the first meeting?” Alfred asks. Bruce scowls. “I’m not making friends.”
Nonetheless, Bruce sticks it out for weeks until they have some semblance of an organization. And, to his shock and amazement, it…kind of works.
The Justice League makes its debut, and Wayne Enterprises generously donates some money “out of spite” after Lex Luthor publicly denounces the league. (Honestly, Bruce would too if he hadn’t personally duct-taped it together himself.)
But the league starts small, just like he told them, they respond to natural disasters and public safety threats first (as per the outreach initiative) and focus on protecting communities in need (as per the mission statement.)
Yes, they still think Batman has a stick up his ass because he’s a stickler for writing incident reports, but no one else reads them so he has the right to be pissed.
He’s almost kind of sort of content with how it’s going. Even his reputation as a vigilante is improving.
That’s when another glaring difference between him and the other members appears.
Despite looking the same age as the rest of the team, Bruce is actually much younger?? Even excluding the aliens, gods, etc.
Most of his teammates are in their late 30’s, early 40’s. Meanwhile, Bruce is at the ripe age of 29 and a half.
He is the youngest by ten years.
Everyone kind of just assumes he’s the same age, though, so they make references to 80’s kids stuff that he only vaguely understands through Alfred and his business partners. He just sits there in silence like a child who snuck over to the adult table and is waiting to get caught.
So on top of the rift he (accidentally) created when they started the organization, it’s even harder to connect through similar interests. Other than punching people together.
And Bruce Wayne has a bad case of imposter syndrome when it comes to their superpowers.
He’s always in the corner brooding, and everyone’s like ummm antisocial much?
But 50% of the time, it’s because he’s thinking “I’ll never amount to the incredible heroic feats everyone else has accomplished. How can I possibly make a difference to the world if I’m already struggling to save Gotham?” Like a little emo freak 🖤
(Meanwhile, you couldn’t pay those mf’s to step foot in Gotham. This Bat guy’s crazy and he’s human apparently?! No way. Nuh uh.)
The OTHER 50% of his “brooding” is Bruce standing to the side with a mixture of concern and judgment because his teammates’ competency in certain areas is…alarmingly low sometimes.
One week, he finds himself thinking, “How do these grown-ass adults not know their way around a digital map? They’re 40, not geriatric.”
Then like a week later, it’s “These fucking war fossils don’t even know Morse code. I gotta do everything around here.”
One of the final straws is when he says, “Did they just break another fucking Keurig? Who does that, Alfred? It’s the fifth one.”
Suffice it to say, he’s not very personable. But is it his fault? Well yeah, a little bit. Like……..65% his fault.
(The remaining 35% is their moaning and groaning whenever Batman calls a meeting.)
Bruce’s irritation is totally justified.
God, he just wants to go home.
Why is he doing this again?
Attempt #2: Actually Making Friends
The first JL member to break through his cold, black exterior is Wonder Woman. She needs help with search and rescue after a sinkhole opens up near an elementary school, but no one’s available until Batman responds to her call.
He’s on the scene in less than an hour and makes quick work in securing the area. Thankfully, she catches him once it’s over. (He always runs off without saying goodbye.)
“Thanks for helping. Everyone else was just so busy. I’m glad you could fly over.” Batman mumbles something that she can’t quite hear. “What was that?” she asks. “I was busy too,” he repeats. She gives him a weird look, and he freezes up for a second as he realizes that probably wasn’t appropriate to say. “I mean…this was more important. There were kids in danger so it didn’t…matter if I was busy.”
Wonder Woman considers how awkward The Batman looks for a moment then smiles. So he really is human. “Well, thank you. The help was very much appreciated.”
Since then, several small acts of kindness and solidarity earn Batman some respect from the rest of the team.
One day, Flash complains about how boring their meetings are so Batman brings a massive bin of fidget toys. After placing them in front of the Flash, he mumbles, “These are for ADHD. They’re useful.” Flash almost cries with relief. He is very touched.
Another day, Green Arrow is severely injured in battle. Without a word, Batman leaves the fight, takes him to a safe location, stops the bleeding, and does it all while repeatedly making sure he’s awake and asking permission to remove certain pieces of clothing.
In another fight, Plastic Man’s mask is thrown off, and Batman sees his face. In a second, Batman tosses a smoke bomb, picks up the mask, and hands it back before anyone else can look. It costs them time and the element of surprise, and Plastic Man knows it, but Batman did it anyway.
A JL member’s stomach grumbles during one too many meetings. Suddenly, their little break room becomes a fully stocked kitchen with shelf-stable meal items and all the basic necessities. There’s a nut-free section, a gluten-free section, everything. The only reason they know it’s him is because anyone else would have admitted to it.
(He renovated the whole fucking thing. In one night. By himself.)
And they all see how gentle he is with children. Countless times, The Batman is spotted prioritizing young civilians at any given moment.
He has lollipops in his belt. And Bluey bandaids too.
It’s the little things that make them feel closer to him :)
And okay maybe his goddamn Mission Statement lecture wasn’t so bad
So they stop moaning and groaning
Okay, now it’s bonding time WOOHOO!!
Attempt #3: Kinda? Friends??
One day, Superman says he isn’t too fond of billionaires (because of Lex, obviously) and goes on a rant about capitalism. Bruce doesn’t dare contribute because 1) he’s the richest man in the world and 2) every other billionaire he’s met is insufferable.
(Including Oliver Queen who Bruce refuses to look at while Green Arrow “defends his city’s billionaire.”)
(And while we’re on the topic of Green Arrow, Bruce cannot forget the disappointing almost-fling two summers ago. He still holds a grudge.)
Green Arrow: “You’re all fashion nightmares. Who wears a cape in the 21st century?” Batman: “At least my facial hair isn’t longer than my dick.” GA: “What was that, Batman?” B: “What?”
Also Bruce is very attracted to Superman.
(He likes older men.)
(Yes, I am referring to Henry Cavill’s Superman.)
(Sue me.)
(But don’t get your hopes up. He does literally nothing about it.)
(Coward.)
One of the JL members complains about how sore they are after a few missions so Bruce cashes in his Monthly Attempt to Socialize and says, “Try yoga. It helps me.” “…Batman, you do yoga?” “Yes. My son got me into it….It’s good for you.” “You have a son?!” He is never socializing again.
They also learn that Batman has the smallest frame on the team. (Like yeah, he’s tall, but he’s also lanky, and everyone else is either an alien or a human dorito.)
One night, they need to sneak through the vents of some building so Bruce offers to do it. Someone says, “It’s a tight squeeze. Are you sure you can fit?” Then he just takes his cape and pauldrons and shoulder pads off and is suddenly like a foot skinnier
“Wait…is this why you’re so good at hiding in the shadows?” Bruce just glares at the Flash for a second before climbing into the vents.
(The answer is yes.)
A betting pool is started over whether or not Batman is part Bat.
In fact, several betting pools begin because no one knows anything about the guy??
Aquaman and Plastic Man go to great lengths to figure out what his hair color is.
They lose their shit once Bruce tells them he’s vegetarian.
Green Lantern: “Every time he opens his mouth, we learn something new. Next, he’s going to tell me he speaks Swahili!” Batman: “I do.” GL: “Oh, come on!”
Superman: “We need someone on the inside for this international operation to work, but that’ll take at least three months undercover.” Batman: “Don’t worry. I have connections.” S: “…In Shanghai?” B: “Yes.”
The Flash adds SHANGHAI?? to his conspiracy board
Bruce needs to stop trying to socialize. It’s better for everyone’s cardiovascular health.
A year or two in, they’re all introduced to Captain Marvel. Bruce is the first and only person to learn his true identity (kid Billy Batson) because Bruce is the only one with a kid. That way, he understands the weird Gen-Alpha humor and references.
Millennia-old deities don’t use the term Flop Era.
And, of course, they play FMK at some point.
(I mean, come on. There are like TWO mature adults on this team, but Martian Manhunter doesn’t know what’s going on until it’s too late, and Wonder Woman is busy at her day job.)
During that particular round, the celebrities are Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor, and Kylie Jenner. Bruce does, in fact, want to kill himself, but he chooses Fuck instead because of this exact conversation:
Green Lantern: Come on, Bats. It’s just a game! Choose already. Batman: No. I’m against killing. GL: Oh, go fuck yourself. This situation is completely hypothetical, and you know it. B: Fine! Fuck Bruce, Marry Kylie, Kill Lex. GL: See? That wasn’t so hard :) Bruce:
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He tried
Attempt #4: Ah shit, FRIEND?
The identity reveal comes about three years after he joins. He’s 32, has three kids, he’s been on hundreds of missions with them, the team’s over twice its original size, and there are domestic terrorists overtaking Manhattan.
Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, and The Batman try to extract as many civilians as possible, but now they’re being hunted. After hiding in a warehouse and considering their options, MM finally suggests that they pose as civilians, which immediately creates uproar.
Bruce, however, realizes this is the only way out.
But it’s not dramatic or badass like that one JL episode. No, instead, he thinks about it, swallows the regret, and just—
Takes off his cowl.
And the whole room falls dead fucking quiet.
Then, “Oh fuck.”
(That was Green Lantern.)
Bruce just shrugs and mumbles, “Martian is right. It’s the only way.” And really fucking hopes the grease paint hides his red face because he is not having a good time right now.
He would rather die, actually, but they need to get somewhere safe and Fast.
The others look him up and down then nod slowly. “Uh yeah.” “Okay, sure.” “This is fine.” “We’ll do that.”
The others begin slowly taking off their suits and changing into something more casual. Bruce takes his off, revealing the skin-tight compression suit underneath, and stuffs his armor in the roll-up duffel bag that’s kept in his belt.
He changes into his drifter outfit, wipes his face clean, and suddenly, The Batman’s just a normal guy. (A very pretty normal guy, mind you. His teammates have eyes.)
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“We can head to my place,” Bruce says. “It’s closer, and I know the train system pretty well.” And yes, he’s pretty soft-spoken outside of the suit, but now it feels even more obvious.
Meanwhile, the others are like—
Oh. My. God.
Oh my god, he’s fucking shy. Batman is acting shy in front of us. Dear fucking god. Batman is Bruce Wayne. And Bruce is shy so Batman is fucking shy?? Bruce is pretty too. Holy fuck. He is very pretty.
And he’s so young?? Oh my god, he’s a BABY wtf?! He’s like four inches shorter. Four inches tall! They’re all towering over him without his massive boots and armor, and he just hunches over with the big duffel bag like he wants to sink into the floor, and he’s so small.
Wonder Woman wants to put him in her pocket.
Sue her.
They end up taking the train back. Bruce has on the mask and cap that hides his face (poor Superman, he really likes his jawline) and they all follow Bruce as he gets off and on several trains at seemingly random stops. THEN when they’re finally in Gotham, they head into an abandoned-looking subway station that leads them into a…cave?? WTF
And in the middle of the cave is an elderly man with a cane and a three-piece suit just lounging on a recliner. (WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK—)
He looks up from his crossword puzzle and says, “Ah! You’ve finally made friends, I see?” Bruce rolls his eyes. “This is not a sleepover,” he gripes. “Shame. I was about to grab your footie pajamas for you.”
The man smiles at them. “A pleasure to meet Master Wayne’s work friends in person. Would you like some coffee? Tea? If you’re like him, this is going to be a long night.”
No one dares to question why this man recognizes them in their civvies
They also can’t tell if the footie pajamas line was a joke or not. After tonight, nothing is off the table.
(This is a minefield of information. Barry is having flashbacks to his conspiracy board. No one is going to fucking believe him.)
They all settle into one corner of the cave. Bruce leaves to change and comes back looking like this:
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(Goddamnit, Clark is having a meltdown. His hair looks so good wet.)
At one point while they’re plotting, Wonder Woman glances over his shoulder to see Bruce checking some sort of security camera. A boy, maybe nine or ten, is sleeping in bed. “Is that your son?” Bruce clearly doesn’t want to answer, but Alfred gives him a look, and Bruce sighs. “One of them. Yes.”
Later, they have to analyze some explosive samples in the cave, and Barry, forensic scientist extraordinaire, has some choice words about the non-sterile environment.
Barry: This doesn’t look safe. Bruce: My lab is perfectly clean and functional. *bat screeches* Don’t worry about that.
For the rest of the night, they use the evidence they have to track down the organization while the rest of the JL suits up and saves NYC.
After a few hours, they’re safe to return to NYC for damage control. But Alfred refuses to let Bruce go with them. “Your sons are worried. Drive them to school, then you’re coming home and sleeping.”
Bruce clearly wants to argue, but the mention of his kids stops him. He sighs and turns to the others who are already changed. “Let me know if you need anything. I can be there in ten minutes.”
They all nod, knowing full well they will not be doing that. The guy clearly needs rest.
(Also, he is a single father of three and still goes out every night to punch robbers and crime bosses? Is he doing okay?)
Then they head back to NYC with so many questions.
But a lot of it makes sense too, actually. Maybe they just weren’t thinking about the man behind the mask enough to see it.
They learned a lot about their friend that night.
And they have a lot of bets to cash in.
FIN
Okay :D that was a lot! If you enjoyed it, please let me know. This has been simmering in the back of my head for months <3 Have a great day and drink some water :)
Hey bestie @bruciemilf
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ryssbelle · 11 days
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Drew a bunch of Marinettes in a bunch of different artists styles it was a lot of fun!!
Artists who's styles I mimicked: @buggachat @hamsternamedmarinette @ladybeug @sabertoothwalrus and @anna-scribbles all epic artists 🤟😎
#my art#marinette dupain cheng#miraculous ladybug#miraculous fanart#style mimic#sorry for the @s btw#yall should go follow those artists if you dont already also#this was sort of inspired by a post the three artists on the top row made#i think they all got together and drew with one another#which is really cool#but i was genuinely confused because i mimic styles a lot#and ive seen others do it too so i was just like#wow they really know each others styles really well#until i thought about it and read their posts some more#style mimicking is really freaking fun and i think its really good practice#and a good way to explore other ways of doing things#like you really have to learn new techniques and get out of your comfort zone#also anna scribbles i could not find a recent pic of marinette in her main outfit#so thats the only marinette i drew in different clothes cuz i couldnt find a more recent ref of you drawing it#anna scribble marinette has privileges thats the others dont#but ye#i also threw my own style in there as a frame of reference to what me draw like#ive drawn marinette before just not in a loooong while#sabertooth walrus was the hardest for me to mimic cuz they have a broad range in their style#so its like which sabertooth do i wanna be in this pic#Buggachat has such a distinct style thats very clean and consistent which is amazing so they were easy#being easy or hard arent bad things either it also has to do with like styles meeting up with one another#buggachats and mine arent too too different in some shapes and aspects#so yeah itd be easier plus they drew marinette like 3 sec ago so i have more recent of a ref#as opposed to sabertooth who i have a recent ref of ladybug but not marinette so we got two diff styles in one
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ravelqueen · 8 months
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People saying that Aziraphale is into bad boys and Crowley is into good boys actually have it the wrong way around! You guys are just getting distracted by the Aesthetic!
Proof: Crowley got interested in Aziraphale when he started acting a bit bad aka unangelically while Aziraphale meanwhile has heart eyes every time Crowley does something Kind (tm).
Q.e.d.
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steddieas-shegoes · 1 month
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Steve grows up playing piano, absolutely hates it, but is so good at it. His parents aren’t around enough by the time he’s a teen to force him to his practices, so he slowly stops going.
His music teacher happens to be Robin’s mom, who studied at Juilliard, and traveled for nearly a decade with various orchestras and bands before settling down with her husband in Hawkins.
She can see what’s going on with Steve from day one, but knows better than to interfere.
Until he quits.
She can’t stand by and let someone so musically gifted give it up.
She shows up at his house with a violin, her own violin that she hadn’t used in years.
He’s hesitant at first, but decides to give it a try as long as she doesn’t tell his parents. The last thing he wants is for them to find out he picked up a new instrument.
She can’t give him official lessons, so she shows up to his house twice a week and hopes that he practices in his own time.
He’s a natural.
He takes to it like a duck to water.
She encourages him to perform in a local talent show, all kids under 18, most of them not half as talented as he is.
He only agrees when she says she’ll be front row.
And sure enough, for once in his life, someone shows up when they say they will. She’s sitting front row with her husband on one side and her daughter on the other. She smiles as he takes the stage, nervous about people who know him seeing him and reporting back to his parents.
He performs with heart, something he lacked with the piano. He performs with talent, something he may have with any instrument he picks up.
But most importantly, he plays with a smile. He’s having fun.
He sticks around to watch some of the other people performing: Tammy Thompson singing a very out of tune rendition of America The Beautiful, some kid from one of his classes playing piano miserably, and some band performing very loud, very angry music.
Steve wins, and for once, it feels better than when he wins at a swim meet or basketball game.
He spends the next three years secretly practicing, only performing in shows out of town, never saying anything to his parents.
He doesn’t want them to ruin this for him.
He applies to Juilliard, not thinking he has a chance in hell, not with his academic grades.
Luckily, they see that he’s “exceptional with the strings” and “plays with emotion that can’t be trained.”
He gets in.
He goes.
He thinks he may actually be able to do this, use a gift he has to make his life better.
His parents even find it acceptable, mostly because he got into the best school he could have. They still don’t bother showing up for his shows, but Mrs. Buckley always finds a way.
In his sophomore year, Robin gets in, and they both move into a small apartment off campus together. He promised to look out for her.
She tells him that music wasn’t really her passion, she was just good with a trumpet. She really wanted to be an engineer.
In his junior year, Robin transfers to Columbia, starts doing what she really wanted to do from the start. He’s proud of her, but misses having someone on campus during the day to have lunch with.
Until he stumbles, literally, into someone vaguely familiar.
“Sorry, man. Running late.”
Steve pats the man on the shoulder and turns to get to his class when the man stops him.
“Harrington? You’re a student here?”
He turns back and finally recognizes the man in front of him.
“Munson? When did you get here?”
“I got in this year. Kinda fucked up my first audition last year and they were kind enough to give me another shot.” Eddie smiled. “What on earth are you here for?”
“Violin. You?”
“Guitar and songwriting.”
“That’s great, man. I’m just really running late. Catch up soon?”
Soon was two weeks later, when Steve ran into Eddie again while leaving class.
“We should probably stop running into each other like this,” Eddie smirked. “The universe is trying to tell us something.”
“What’s it trying to tell us?”
“Not sure. Maybe we should go grab dinner and find out.”
“Now?”
“Why not? Got better plans?”
Steve thought about how Robin was barely at the apartment due to studying for midterms. He thought about how his only other friend from here was busy rehearsing for their senior showcase.
“Nah. Let me bring this home first,” he held up his violin case. “Actually.”
Steve was on a budget. His parents gave him money, sure, but they thought he was living on campus so the money they sent covered rent and groceries and nothing else.
“I could make dinner. If you want?”
“Steve Harrington cooks? And plays violin?” Eddie fake swooned. “Be still my beating heart. How will I not be seduced?”
Steve rolled his eyes. He remembered Eddie’s dramatics from school and knew better than to feed into them.
“I can make some spaghetti. Nothing fancy.”
“Spaghetti sounds great,” Eddie’s fake swoon turned to a soft smile. “You want some help?”
Steve didn’t need help, usually didn’t even want any.
But something about the way his stomach dipped when Eddie stepped closer, and the way he thought about having Eddie in his apartment, made him agree.
“Sure.”
They walked to Steve’s apartment in a comfortable silence, though Eddie kept tapping the back of his fingers against Steve’s hand.
Eddie fit next to Steve. They cooked together, they ate together, they even managed to clean up together. It was easy to find something to talk about. He’d never clicked with anyone like this, not even Robin.
By the time Robin came home, Steve and Eddie were both passed out on the couch, fingers laced together as if they hadn’t been brave enough to do anything more before they fell asleep.
By morning, Steve’s head was on Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s arm wrapped around him loosely.
Waking up to a soft kiss on his lips was something Steve couldn’t have imagined when he first ran into Eddie, but he was pretty glad it was how he started his day.
And almost every day after that, whether he woke up to a kiss, or met up with Eddie on campus for a kiss, he started his day with love on his lips.
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