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adamwatchesmovies · 6 months ago

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Shrek the Halls (2007)

If your kids can’t get enough Shrek and it happens to be close to December 25th, then Shrek the Halls is a good pick for the family. Though it’s essentially a bonus feature - meaning if you skip it you’re not missing anything - there are plenty of clever gags throughout.

Set between Shrek the Third and Shrek Forever After, Shrek (Mike Myers) is feeling pressured by Princess Fiona (Cameron Diaz) to put together a special holiday surprise for the household. His plans go awry when Donkey (Eddie Murphy) invites himself and the entire “family” to partake in the celebration.

Clever title aside, I bet most people would look at the DVD cover and label this film/special as a cash grab. They'd be wrong. This is no half-baked effort churned out in a hurry to have some content for the holiday season. The visuals look just as good as they did in the films it’s set between, all of the voice actors are back and the characters you love are pretty much all there, ready to deliver the same type of gags that made them favorites. Particularly funny is Gingy (Conrad Vernon), whose interpretation of Santa Claus is radically different from everyone else’s. There are plenty of in-jokes, off-hand comedic remarks and throwaway visual gags (check out Pinocchio’s stocking). Basically, this special is cut from the same tree as the previous films. You get pop-culture references and clever wordplay mixed in with low-brow fart jokes and before you roll your eyes at that one, remember that they've practically been a staple of the series.

While the other Shrek films skirted the line between being appropriate for adults rather than kids, this one’s strictly for younger viewers. I say this because of the film’s ultimate message and the way it’s resolved. Though Shrek is an adult, he’s never celebrated Christmas before. To him, the holiday’s true meaning has yet to be discovered. When Puss in Boots (Antonio Banderas), the Big Bad Wolf (Aron Warner), the Three Blind Mice (Christopher Knights), Three Little Pigs (Cody Cameron) and the rest show, he's annoyed. “Why does Christmas have to include all of these people?” Kids have no say in who comes to the Christmas party so it makes sense to tell them why they need to get along with everyone and doing so through Shrek is organic.

Also cementing this as strictly for youngsters is the way Fiona reacts to Shrek being so irritated. As an interquel, there was no way to have the characters react any other way but from an older viewer’s perspective, it’s getting a little repetitive to have them clashing like this AGAIN. Maybe the conflict could’ve been somewhat smoothed out if the film was longer - we could actually see Fiona having a great time while her husband is miserable - but at just 21 minutes long, there wasn't time. These are not serious issues but they’re what prevent it from being a must-see unless you eat up anything that's green and living in a swamp.

Though Shrek the Halls is a Christmas-themed special banking on a pre-existing love for a franchise, it feels earnest. All of the characters and voice actors are back. The jokes are on the same level as they've always been. It’s just that this is an inconsequential holiday special, which, to be fair, is exactly what it advertises itself as. I wouldn’t spend money on Shrek the Halls but if it happens to be playing, it's a pleasant distraction. (December 27, 2021)

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ginnysgraffiti · 13 days ago

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BRUCE WAYNE x yn.

bruce wayne with breeding kinks head-canons:

he doesn’t mean to fixate — but he does, almost daily, in the quiet in-between moments.

bruce will be reading reports, monitoring security feeds, running a silent operation across the city… and then his mind just drifts.

he’ll glance at you curled up on the couch, flipping through a book or brushing your hair back with one hand — and some invisible trigger pulls.

a thought forms: what would you look like, full of him, with your belly round like the moon and his little heir inside you?

oh god.

he can picture it too clearly: your face softer, fuller with a glow; his hand resting over your stomach like it belongs there.

and for a man who prides himself on control, that kind of fantasy scares the hell out of him — because he wants it.

he talks to alfred about it in the most bruce-wayne way possible: indirectly, but unmistakably suggestive.

one morning, he’s sipping black coffee in the kitchen while you’re still asleep upstairs, and he says, “you ever think this place is too quiet?”

alfred lifts an eyebrow. “you mean ‘quiet’ as in peaceful, or ‘quiet’ as in missing the sound of little feet running about and breaking priceless antiques?”

bruce won’t admit anything at first — he’ll just smirk and say something vague like, “hypothetically.”

but by the third conversation, alfred’s already chuckling behind his tea.

“if you want my opinion, master wayne, you’re not fooling anyone. not with the way you look at them when they’re holding that neighbor’s baby.”

he starts quietly adjusting things around the manor, like the idea has become less of a fantasy and more of a pending plan.

without even realizing it, he begins noting the safest rooms in the house, noise levels, stair railings.

he’ll catch himself researching security upgrades with childproofing in mind, all under the excuse of “renovation.”

alfred notices immediately. “are we preparing for a miniature vigilante, or is there something you’d like to confess, sir?”

and bruce just grunts. but the corner of his mouth lifts — just slightly.

his desire for legacy isn’t about ego, it’s about rewriting something broken, something he misses.

he’s painfully aware of what was taken from him. a family. a sense of innocence.

and if he ever lets himself imagine being a father, it isn’t with the cape, or the gadgets, or the weight of the cowl.

it’s a version of him that’s real in the morning — sleep-ruffled, quiet, watching you and a small version of you both tangled up on the sofa, alive, safe.

he doesn’t just want a child. he wants a future that feels untouched by crime scenes and vengeance.

but most of all, he wants to believe that you loving him enough to start that kind of life with him isn’t just a dream.

he’ll try to play it cool when he finally brings it up to you, but his voice gives him away.

he’ll say something like, “have you ever thought about having kids? not now, obviously. just… one day.”

and when you say yes — when you say you’ve maybe thought about it too — he’s quiet for a long time.

but that night, he sleeps with one arm around your waist, pulling you just slightly closer than usual, like he’s holding something priceless.

he’s already naming the future in his head. already imagining what it would feel like to hand them the world — just a little better than the one he inherited.

his desire starts bleeding into your intimacy.

bruce isn’t reckless. not usually. but lately, the thought of you — the possibility of leaving something inside you, of creating something permanent — lives just beneath his skin.

he kisses slower now. touches you with a careful sort of ownership, like he’s memorizing you before he changes you forever.

he’ll bury his face in your neck during those longer, quieter nights and whisper “you’d look beautiful pregnant.”

soft, almost bashful — not dirty, but devotional. like you’re something holy and he’s already praying.

his movements get slower — not to rush toward release, but to press the idea of it into you. his thrusts deeper, more relaxed, more painful almost, while his groans get guttural and his moans lower.

he never says he’s not using protection, but he doesn’t correct the situation either.

it’s intentional. quiet. calculated.

he never says the words, but there’s something about how still he gets when you look up at him and say “are you sure?”

and he’ll reply — breathless, firm — “yeah. i want all of it.”

he might not say he’s thinking about putting a child in you, but you can feel the weight of that want in every motion.

he doesn’t treat your body like a playground. he treats it like a legacy in motion.

sex.

he becomes hungrier in bed, not just with desire but with intention.

after he’s come down from patrols, bruised, raw, with gotham’s filth still on him — you’re the one softness he allows himself.

and yet, even then, there’s this primal weight behind every kiss, every thrust.

“you’d carry it well,” he mutters into your skin one night, almost too low for you to hear.

he doesn’t elaborate. he doesn’t have to. and god, as nights pass, he can’t help but come inside each time, throwing his head back in ecstasy.

and unfortunately for alfred, wayne manor’s walls are too damn thin.

it starts with a closed door. but the soft noises grow louder. not vulgar, but intimate.

a creak of the mattress. two, three, now he can hear the springs begging for mercy. low groans. his voice, raspy and bitten off mid-syllable.

alfred walks by with a tray one night and pauses.

from behind the door, bruce’s voice, low and straine: “fuck- no, oh god- no, please move faster.”

a beat of silence. a breathless laugh from you.

alfred sighs deeply, sets the tray down quietly, and mutters, “well. that explains the increased grocery bill.”

he never jokes about it, but the intimacy turns gentle post-coital — almost boyish.

after, bruce doesn’t pull away like he used to. he’s quiet. holding you close. hand pressed low on your belly, like he’s willing something into being.

he’ll ask, in a soft, speculative tone, “do you ever wonder what they’d look like? if we had one? a mini you? a mini me?”

his voice is full of restraint — but underneath it, that hope is unmistakable. not romantic. animal. he presses his sweaty forehead against yours.

if you say yes, he relaxes. and you realize.

he wasn’t just fantasizing during sex. he was fantasizing about forever.

alfred starts knocking a little louder in the mornings — and a little more frequently.

the first time he hears it, he tries to politely pretend it’s the pipes.

the second time, he knocks on the bedroom door just a bit harder than necessary and says, “coffee’s ready — if you two are…finished rewriting the family line.”

bruce opens the door shirtless, sweaty, hair damp, that lazy post-coital calm still resting behind his eyes.

he doesn’t respond. alfred mutters, “well, i suppose that’s a ‘yes.’”

alfred starts putting prenatal vitamins in the cabinet “just in case”

you gently ask him one morning, “alfred, why are there like…maternity teas in the pantry?”

he barely looks up from his crossword. “oh, no reason. just thought the house ought to be prepared, considering the late-night symphonies i’ve been treated to.”

you’re mid-sip of tea. you nearly choke.

in the distance, bruce’s heavy footsteps creak across the upper hall.

“and speak of the devil,” alfred adds flatly, “our maestro descends.”

alfred sometimes tells bruce to be quieter, and bruce absolutely pretends he doesn’t understand.

“sir, i’m not one to interfere in your personal endeavors, but the acoustics in this house are far too generous.”

bruce looks up from the security feed, sipping black coffee like a sinner after confession. “i’ll look into soundproofing the bedroom.”

“yes, or perhaps consider pacing yourself before someone files a noise complaint.”

bruce smirks. doesn’t deny it. he knows alfred is being sarcastic — but the comment secretly delights him.

he’s loud because he wants it to be known. because for once in his cold, compartmentalized existence, something real is blooming.

when alfred finally catches you both at breakfast, post-‘incident,’ he acts as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

you’re wrapped in one of bruce’s robes. your hair’s still mussed. bruce has a faint mark on his collarbone.

“eggs?” alfred offers neutrally.

“…yes please,” you murmur, half-embarrassed.

he serves them perfectly, of course. but just before leaving the room, he mutters dryly:

“if i may suggest a night off from the opera, master wayne. the house staff are beginning to speculate.”

bruce hums into his coffee, eyes fixed on you.

“i’ll take it under consideration.”

and when you do eventually get pregnant — alfred has absolutely earned the right to be smug about it.

“knew it,” he says under his breath when you confirm it. bruce raises an eyebrow.

“oh please, sir. a deaf man could’ve heard you two plotting this.”

but beneath the teasing — there’s fondness. there’s care.

he places the vitamins on the table a little more pointedly now. makes sure the orange juice is fresh.

and when bruce starts accompanying you everywhere like your own personal bodyguard with a billion-dollar bank account?

“perhaps leave her room to breathe, sir,” alfred says. “after all, she’s carrying the future wayne empire — not an armed nuclear device.”

“yeah…o-of course i know that alfred. tsk.”

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