#and i know what youre thinking:

[peachy-panic]

BBU: Hollywood

This idea took root and wouldn't let go. Can't say for sure if this will be A Thing, or just a one-off teaser of a thing, but here it is nonetheless.

WARNINGS: BBU, implied noncon, implied noncon drug use, the fucked up film industry

“Cut!”

He doesn’t realize the cameras have stopped rolling until the shrill ring of the bell jolts him back into his body, and out of the one he’s been inhabiting since the last call of action. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink for a few moments, still caught in the blurry line between characters. Sometimes it takes a few seconds to remember which mask he's wearing.

There is a flurry of movement around him; PAs rush past, murmuring into their headsets, toting plush robes and glass bottles of sparkling water. Hair and makeup swoop in to invade everyone’s space, making their minute adjustments before rolling begins anew. 

When he returns to himself, Henry's cheeks are cold with drying tear tracks, and his heartbeat pulses lightly in his lips. 

His scene partner is already turned away, her attention attuned to the phone in her hand while a woman with frizzy hair attends to her smudged lipstick. Distantly, Henry knows if he touches his fingertips to his own mouth, they will come away in the same shade of red. Seconds ago, they were locked in an embrace, their tears mingling in the neckline of her silk gown, whispered words of affection spilling between them, and now Henry doesn’t exist. He won’t again until the cameras are pointed at him. Only then does he become alive.

A cold, acrylic nail hooks his chin and turns his head. His personal makeup artist is a woman named Kat in her late thirties with a sleek, blonde bob and smile lines around her eyes. She’s worked on every one of Henry’s films, and she has never spoken to him directly. On instinct, Henry lets his eyes fall shut, slipping back from the surface as she goes through the familiar routine of touching him up. 

From behind the wall of his own little world, he allows himself the indulgence of tuning into the conversations around him. A couple of new production assistants—not much older than him—talk about the food truck that production ordered as an end-of-week treat. (This doesn’t apply to Henry. He is on a strict diet of kale and boiled chicken while he's filming. He is always filming). The wardrobe team talks about grabbing a drink at Stanley’s after wrap today. (He knows that Stanley’s is everyone’s favorite spot because it’s less than a mile from the studio, but he’s never seen it for himself). The assistant director comments on her third cup of coffee of the day. (Henry wishes he could ask for some).

The voices fade and flutter until one cuts through the rest.

“One last take, and we’re calling it, David.”

Henry opens his eyes, and Paul stands directly in front of him.

His sleek, black suit stands out among the crew's workwear, and probably costs three times as much combined. It’s hard not to notice the ways everyone’s demeanor changes the moment the Executive Producer steps onto set. In a way, it’s almost reassuring to know Henry isn’t the only one who shrinks in this man’s shadow. But that’s where the commonality ends. They may fear him, too, but at the end of a fourteen hour day, they are not the ones who return home to Paul Maxwell’s bed. 

“Our star needs to be red-carpet ready in an hour-thirty.” Though he’s addressing the director, Paul stares directly into Henry’s eyes. “Be sure that he is.”

He doesn’t need to nudge the makeup artist away so much as she instinctively pulls back when Paul lifts a large hand and touches the tips of his fingers to Henry’s jaw. Henry keeps his eyes where they’ve been beckoned and pretends not to notice the assistants in his periphery who duck their faces away from the display of ownership. Paul’s thumb swipes across the corner of Henry’s mouth, taking with it a smear of Eliza Darling’s expensive lipstick. Then, wordlessly, he releases him. 

There’s a renewed sense of urgency as Paul retreats from the chaos, but also one of relief that comes with the last shot of the day—for everyone except Henry. 

He was up before the sun, and he knows he’ll be out long after it has set. The worst part about interior days: he doesn’t get to see daylight once. Normally, even the call of his Keeper’s bedroom feels like a reprieve after this many hours of shooting. But tonight, his previous film is set to premier on the other side of Los Angeles, and there is no premier without Paul Maxwell’s shining star.

More importantly, there is no after party without him.

There is no time for exhaustion, not for him. When the caffeine pills have run their course, he’ll be given something stronger, and he’ll take it. Whatever it takes to get through the night that will inevitably become a very long weekend.

“You heard the boss,” David says, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Let’s make it a good one. Clear frame.”

The makeup brushes make a few last frantic swipes across his skin before they scurry away. Liza Darling tucks a blonde curl behind her ear and presses her phone into a nameless PA’s hand. Henry closes his eyes and slips into another man’s skin.

People tell Henry all the time that he’s lucky to lead the life that he does, in his position. It is only in these fleeting intervals of fiction between reality that he might just agree with them.

For the next three minutes, he does not have to be Henry, nor is he the boy with the name from a life he is not allowed to remember. For the next three minutes, he is Brock Layton: twenty-three, rich, and madly in love. 

For the next three minutes, he is as free as he’ll ever be again. 

“Sound speed,” the mixer calls out, raising the boom pole over his head. 

“Rolling,” camera echoes back. 

“And, action.”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[fox-mulder-gets-pegged]

I just wanna say bc I KNOW you're somewhere on tumblr, to the teenage girl who attended Take Your Kid To Work Day at an office building in Ontario, Canada circa 2013 and had a conversation with a middle aged woman in which you showed her your Black Veil Brides fanart and fanfics and ship content and told her about different fanfic tropes including a/b/o verse bc she happened to know who Panic! at The Disco and Fallout Boy were and thus you felt the need to show her your bandblr ship art, that was my fucking mother and I had to clarify all that to her including looking my mother in the eye and trying to explain a/b/o verse without sounding like a lunatic.

It's been 10 years and I still regularly sent evil energies in your direction. Since you'd be probably two years younger than me and thus legally an adult now, please know if this post reaches you it's on sight.

[cyancees]

i have neither a good imagination nor aphantasia, but a secret third thing

[notbrucewayne48]

"aphobia doesn't exist"

bitch literally not that long ago an aroace youtuber animator was insulted by almost half of its community for being it

[neytui]

BeholLD MY TINKER HICCUP FAIRY DESIGN!!

Been having this on my head for a whilee and really wanted to give the desing a go. Why? I don't know, but a Neverland au sure it's fucking cool

[sourscratched]

quick comix of the little creatures

[worm-on-a-blog]

woahh 2024! cheers!

happy new year. worms are rooting for you to have your best year yet.

[ryssbelle]

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 🤟😎

[chloesimaginationthings]

Gregory is a mini version of FNAF game Michael

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

It JUST occurred to me that if Hobie left Gwen the watch in her universe that means he went there and met her dad

The implications of this are SO interesting

Hobie had to go there, find Gwen’s dad, explain who he is and how he knows Gwen, then ask him to give her the watch

He even describes Hobie as a piece of work!!

I’m so curious -

Did Hobie have some choice words with Gwen’s dad? Did he say that he’s the person that housed her when she was homeless?

Hobie met Gwen’s cop dad and gave him the watch WHAT DID HE SAY WHAT WAS THAT CONVERSATION

WHAT DID HOBIE SAY TO GWENS COP DAD

[thesaintofnevergettingitright]

Watching the Percy Jackson series has made me empathize with Aphrodite more than I ever thought possible.

Cuz these kids are TWELVE and are out here just trying to SURVIVE, but every time Percy and Annabeth interact I’m giggling and kicking my feet like “Hehehe you don’t know it yet, but that is the love of your life. Yes, yes, there’s a big scary monster but what about the slow-burn romance?”

And I always found it so annoying in the books when Aphrodite would show up and only be interested in the romantic dynamics between the characters and otherwise be kinda useless. But now??? I’m totally on the same page with her. Cuz I know they’re going to fight a million monsters and win, and at the end of the day one fight looks just like the next. But they only fall in love ONCE and it’s AMAZING.

Like damn. Apologies the goddess Aphrodite. I suddenly get it.

[caruliaa]

staff still hasn't given me polls, what should i do?

🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪 their moms 69%

🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪 their dads 31%

grace image os i get to look at her

[egophiliac]

ENG PLAYERS I BESEECH YOU

I have been informed that you guys are getting part 4 of episode 7 tomorrow, which means we are FINALLY going to get the official romanization of Revaan's name, somebody please tell me because I need to know what it is.

like, yes, it's probably just Revan/Levan, but look, I'm sitting here with my finger over the button of all these Laverne and Shirley jokes and just waiting for the opportunity to deploy them --

[wren-kitchens]

im annoyed and a little pedantic so can i just say as a blanket statement

queerbaiting is when the promotion for a FICTIONAL STORY intentionally hints towards two characters having a romantic relationship, without any intention to follow through in the show, in order to get queer people watching without discouraging the homophobic enjoyers of the show

queerbaiting is NOT:

a celebrity who you think is queer because theyre gnc or they have a 'vibe'. that is a real person and they cannot queerbait

two friends of the same gender pretending to flirt with each other for fun. those are real people and they cannot queerbait

a show with two characters of the same gender who are canonically friends that YOU PERSONALLY think would be better in a relationship. that's not bating, that's shipping, and subject to opinion

there are more but those are the main examples of people misunderstanding what queerbaiting is and being mad at something that isn't actually a problem