#even if it took a hour and a half

[zbloodwhisper]

hope everyone is having a happy new year because. im not.

[crybaby-bkg]

I think Deku has a bit of a mean streak, actually. he’s no Bakugou—that’s for sure—but he’s not this innocent, sweet angel baby that the media has painted him out to be. but you only catch it when you least expect it, when you’re pushing his nerves, when the stakes to everything around him are high, when he’s tired of endless sleepless nights and just—snaps.

“Oh?” you go, grin unfurling like some grinch, chin resting on your hands as you leer at him from across his expansive desk. “You’re mean.” your words are teasing, a snarl that curls your mouth up. Deku stutters, eyes going wide, jaw snapping shut in surprise as he tries to think back on how rude he just sounded.

“No, I’m not—I mean, you wouldn’t stop and I just—there’s a lot on my plate right now—and you just—you keep on—I’m not—I’m not mean.” He’s sputtering, hands all over the place, the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose falling even lower with how he jabbers on and on. it’s endearing really, to see how he tries to upkeep his image of being so kind and understanding, even though his nostrils just flared at you. and his eyebrows turned down and he gritted at you, his hands were balled into fists, his words were so nasty, so ugly, so unbecoming for Deku.

you liked it. loved it even—vowed to get him like this every single fucking second that you could.

you pick and poke at him whenever you see him, teasing him and pulling at him. pushing him around even though the hero is so much stronger than you, so much bigger. and he lets you, tries to defend himself but—that’s not what you want. you want the ugliness, the snark, the mean.

he snaps, eventually, when you least expect it. grabs you up in black whip when you go to push him against the wall for the third time in only a minute, his eyes suddenly dark, the aura of the room suddenly charged.

“That’s what I was looking for.” you whisper to him, the grin spreading your face quickly dissipating in only seconds when you become the prey. when you become the one pushed up against the wall with teeth at your neck, a hand in your underwear, bullying your hole with too thick fingers.

“Why do you want me to act like this? Be so mean to you, huh?” he sounds so frustrated with himself, with you, growling and nipping and licking when you don’t answer quick enough. but your breath is caught in your lungs because finally—finally, did you get what you wanted. it just took a little bit of pushing, you suppose.

[zecoritheweirdone]

wanna preface this by saying that i am. So normal. anyway i just spent the last week redrawing scenes from mystery skulls animated but as that hermitcraft au i posted about a couple times. you guys should watch msa it is. so so good.

[making-you-in-spore]

make a kamen rider in spore. any kamen rider in the franchise. like whatever suit looks the coolest

i made kamen rider chalice in spore [2008]

[chalice specifically suggested by @sugarratio1]

[spicyvampire]

4MINUTES (2024) EP. 4 Without context

+ Bonus :

[unfamd]

i strongly believe that in any universe modern or otherwise lwj uses lan xichen as a kind of confessional like a catholic priest. he literally comes into lan xichen's room at four pm precisely because that's the scheduled time that he allows himself to share an Emotion with his brother and sits down and says in a distinctly monotone yet perfectly recognisably anguished tone 'brother i have sinned' and lan xichen sighs very quietly because he doesn't want to hurt his brother's feelings and puts down his pen and says 'is this about wei wuxian' very gently and Lan Wangji is like 'mn' because it has never once Not been about wei wuxian. and then he says something that is Kind Of Weird, But Still Not A Sin like 'he fell asleep when we were studying and i watched his ribcage moving up and down for thirty eight minutes until he choked on nothing and woke himself up; am i evil' and once again lan xichen will kind of not-sigh in a way that makes it very obvious that in all other ways except physical he Is, Indeed, Sighing and has to reassure the most rigidly distraught younger brother in the history of mankind that what he is suffering from is in fact a malady known colloquially as a crush

[taskmastersource]

JULIAN'S FOUR-PART EXERCISE ROUTINE • TASKMASTER 16x10

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[pixlatedvampire]

You gave those wounds to your god, Enki. Did you think they would heal so easily?

(Uh Oh! Someone gave the priest catholic guilt!)

[delineate-creates]

Day 11: Wander

Wandering…sneaking…it’s all semantics, really…

[freckleslikestars]

I owe you everything, Scully, and you owe me nothing.

Acrylic on canvas, A3

[the-random-phan]

[actualori]

the poe-poe!!

(i drew this a few days ago i forgot about it whoopsies)

pose and background inspo/reference below

art by ferry!!

specifically from the song punch it punk! i recommend listening to it it’s so fun

[necrotic-nephilim]

au - tim sneaking out of jason's room one night at the manor and accidentally locking eyes with dick who is sneaking out of bruce's room at the exact same time, breakfast is very awkward the next morning

(i did think of having it be jason instead of tim but honestly jason has 0 shame and even less issue outing himself if it means fucking with bruce and, to a lesser extent, dick)

i'm cackling I love these types of things so much. they're so silly. sometimes we deserve mindless crack for these ships. have a *very* low effort ficlet bc this just makes me snort, enjoy <3

Dick closed Bruce's door as quietly as he could. Usually, he didn't have to sneak around when he slept with Bruce. But the temporary room Bruce had given Jason in the manor was just down the hall, and Dick didn't feel like looking Jason in the eye if he walked out of Bruce's bedroom in the morning at the wrong time.

Just because he was pretty sure Jason knew, didn't mean he needed confirmation and confrontation.

Dick had almost caved to staying in bed with Bruce when Bruce tried to pull him back down, but he kept some level of wits about him, prying Bruce's arm off of him and giving him a final kiss on the cheek before heading for the door.

The one thing Dick did allow himself, though, was wearing one of Bruce's shirts instead of his own. It was a size too large on him but smelled safe and comforting. Dick breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the door latched silently. He let go of the handle, turning around to creep off to his own bedroom in another wing.

And found himself staring at another figure.

With all of the lights off and only faint moonlight streaming through the windows, Dick couldn't tell who it was, at first. His reaction was embarrassing no matter who it was, jumping nearly a foot backward and clutching a hand over his chest.

He was a goddamn vigilante. This was just embarrassing.

The other person wasn't nearly as shocked as Dick, but they stood perfectly still, staring with wide eyes that faintly reflected what little light illuminated their face. Dick squinted, leaning forward to see who it was.

"Tim?" Dick hissed, trying to keep his voice to a whisper. Bruce had fallen asleep and if Dick woke him up now, he was never going to get the stubborn bastard back to bed.

Tim, still looking like a deer in headlights, just blinked at Dick.

"What are you doing up this late?" Dick asked. They'd all agreed to take tonight's patrol off, letting Babs, Helena, Dinah, and Zinda handle it in exchange for tackling the massive human trafficking ring in the morning with fresh eyes and cleared heads. The job was the only thing that had gotten Jason to agree to work with them in the first place. Bruce barely managed to strong-arm Jason into sleeping in the manor, with a decent amount of guilting from Alfred.

Jason, who was in the room only a few feet away from Dick. The room that Tim's hand was resting on the doorknob of.

"That's Jason's room," Dick said slowly.

Tim just nodded. "I know." He wasn't whispering like Dick was, but his tone remained impossible to read.

He just saw Dick walk out of Bruce's room. Had he put it together? It was Tim, after all. if he hadn't yet, Dick assumed he only had a couple minutes before it dawned on Tim.

"What were you doing in Jason's room?" Dick frowned. If he focused on Tim, it could keep the focus off of him for as long as possible. Dick tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating.

Tim's expression was hard to make out in the dark. "We were talking about the case." Still, his tone remained entirely neutral.

Too neutral, for Tim.

"At two am?"

"Well, what were you doing?" Tim huffed slightly when he said it, folding his arms over his chest.

He was shirtless, Dick just realized.

Shirtless and coming out of Jason's room.

"I was-" Dick stumbled over his words, choking as he tried to come up with an alibi. "We were talking about the-"

"I already used that excuse, pick your own," Tim deadpanned. Dick was pretty sure he also rolled his eyes. "I've known about you and Bruce for years, you know. You don't have to pretend."

The noise that came out of Dick's throat was almost as mortifying as the realization that not only did Jason likely know, but so did Tim.

"It... okay it has not been years," Dick's face was hot and he was glad it was too dark for Tim to see his blush. "I mean- it's been a while but not years-"

"Whatever you say." Tim shrugged, sounding unconvinced. "There have been feelings between you two for years, close enough for me."

If Dick died, right here, in this hallway in front of Bruce's door, he hoped the cause of death would be put down as homicide instead of natural causes. Because every word from Tim's mouth made another piece of Dick die inside, just a little.

"It's none of your business either way." Dick tried to stand up straight to sound more in control of the situation, clearing his throat.

"Trust me, I don't want it to be my business."

Dick would've laughed, if this was happening to anyone but him.

"What about... you and Jason?" Dick asked carefully.

Tim shifted on his feet. "What about it? I told you, we were talking about the case."

"Right." It was Dick's turn to roll his eyes. "In his bedroom, at two am, without your shirt?"

Tim stared at Dick for a long, torturous moment. A moment that made Dick agree with Tim, about not wanting to know any sordid details.

"I'm going to bed," Tim said suddenly, turning away from Dick. "Goodnight."

Dick had a thousand more questions he wanted to ask. How Tim and Jason even got together, when it happened. Last Dick knew, they could barely stand to be in the same room.

But Tim was walking away at an alarmingly brisk pace and Dick just sighed. He was too tired and mortified about his own secrets to chase Tim down for an impromptu interrogation that would just end up embarrassing them both more.

Maybe it was best for Dick's sanity if he didn't know the specifics.

Dick didn't consider how awkward it would be until he was standing in the kitchen, staring at Jason bent over a cup of coffee.

Did Jason know Dick knew? It didn't seem like he did, but he had always had a good poker face.

When Tim ambled into the kitchen and grabbed overnight oats from the fridge, he didn't even look at Dick. He seemed to be pointedly avoiding it, sitting as far away from Dick as he could at the oversized dining room table.

All while Dick couldn't seem to stop staring.

"Your cereal is going to get soggy," Jason muttered, and it took Dick a moment to realize Jason was talking to him. "At least eat it before trying to explode my head with your mind, or whatever your staring problem is."

"I'm not-" Dick stuttered. he shut himself up with a mouthful of cereal when Cass gave him an odd look.

Would she be able to figure it out just from his body language?

Dick had never fully understood the lengths her ability to read people could go. he looked away from her and stared at a random spot on the table, trying to eat at a normal pace.

Bruce was the last to wander into the kitchen. He squeezed Dick's shoulder as he walked by, making Dick jump. It was an innocent enough touch that no one would question, but all Dick could think about was the brief look from Tim before he quickly averted his eyes again.

The silence around the table was going to eat Dick alive. He started eating cereal faster.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jason broke the tension, throwing his head back and slamming an empty mug down onto the table. "Everyone knows you two are fucking, alright?" He gestured between Dick and Bruce. "Stop being so goddamn weird about it, you're acting like there's a bomb in the room."

Bruce choked on his coffee. "Jason." He tried to sound reprimanding, but his voice was a few octaves too high.

Dick threw his hands in the air. "I knew you knew about that, but I didn't know about you and Tim until last night so excuse me for feeling a little awkward."

"You didn't know about what?" Bruce nearly yelled, spinning around to face Jason.

"Damnit, Dick!" Tim groaned, putting his head in his hands.

Jason just scoffed, pointing a fork at Bruce. "Oh don't even give me that self-righteous bullshit-"

Their argument went back and forth while Tim just rubbed his temples, muttering to himself and glaring at Dick.

Worst of all, Dick was pretty sure Cass was giggling next to him under her covered mouth.

Dick just sighed and ducked his head, dutifully waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

So much for his breakfast.

[thiirsdaygirl]

hi tumblr i have a sketch for u

[nicisanidiot]

Has anyone else noticed the use of shadows and light in Nimona? Cause I find it really interesting how through most of the movie Ballister is stuck in the shadows while Ambrosius is always in the light.

For example:

It also draws parallels between Gloreth and Ambrosius as Gloreths statue is always bathed in lights, due to the fact we only ever see it at night (I think) surrounded by darkness.

I think it’s also interesting that once Ballister meets Nimona the contrast between shadows and light becomes even more pronounced, with the two of them living together in a darkened lair, sneaking around at night and rarely being seen in daylight. This contrasts Ambrosius who we never see without the spotlight shining on him.

This contrast becomes clearest in the “nacho” scene, when its glaringly obvious just how different the twos views on Nimona and the Institute are.

However, the motif is subverted after this when Ballister confronts Nimona on the statue of Gloreth. For the first time in the movie since the death of the queen he is in the spotlight, pulled from the shadows into the light.

This is especially beautiful as he pulls Nimona, a character who till this point had always been in the shadows, into the light with him. (There’s probably a metaphor for mental health, transness and queer identity in there but someone else can probably put that far more eloquently than me).

From this point onwards Ballister is never framed in shadows again, but more importantly, he is only framed in natural light, often with a warm tone contrasting the previous cool toned unnatural lighting (warm tones also being used in relation to Nimona):

While I think the meaning of all this could be debated my personal favourite interpretations of it are:

- the changes in lighting represent Ballister’s feelings towards himself through the film, specifically in relation to his relationship with Ambrosius (him being in shadows more after the queens death, seeing himself as inferior to Ambrosius, being in light as he is going through the “evil lair” showing his acceptance (?) of Nimona’s “passing” and his contribution to it).

- the way he is perceived by the in film audience viewing him (more shadows when he “kills” the queen, in light when he saves Nimona).

Anyway, feel free to add anything extra or any additional observations or anything I missed

(I have dyslexia so please don’t be to hard on any mistakes I’m really trying I promise)