Reese

We have art in order not to die of truth

[blueeyeddarkknight]

Happy 31st anniversary to batman forever and 21st anniversary to batman begins 🦇🦇🖤🖤

Holy double innuendo batman! I love those two idiots 😂

Val and Christian are my favorite actors and batmen.. They made my childhood and still make my adulthood 🥹

They have natural darkness and light balance in their eyes and souls. They supported each other and other batman actors.

Credit :

Gifs are by : @soapsmoviesfootballfan, @lost-shoe and myself

[rhaenyras-crown]

christian bale as bruce wayne christian bale as bruce wayne christian bale as bruce wayne christian bale as bruce wayn—

[rewedy]

🫵🫪🫴💉

[edawgz]

ᯓ★ SILVER FOX

♯┆ [bruce wayne x fem!reader] INCLUDES.ᐟ

⤿ BRUCE WAYNE ages incredibly well, and everyone know this. You, however, absolutely adore the fact that his grey hairs are beginning to show, and you make sure he knows it.

!! fluff. reader is obsessed. in my head bruce is like a year or two older than you. no real warnings. sexual undertones but like you gotta squint.

♯┆ 𝟎.𝟏 wayne collection. 𝟎.𝟐 dc collection. 𝟎.𝟑 mlist.

The Batcave was quiet in a way that only felt peaceful when he was home. The air was cool, humming faintly from the servers, and the low echo of dripping water filled the space between sounds. Bruce sat at his workstation, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, surrounded by half-assembled weapons, open schematics, and a scatter of small metallic tools that caught the light in pale, glinting slivers.

You sat on the stool beside him, chin propped in your hand, watching him with the kind of soft, intent stare that always made him pretend he didn’t notice. His shoulders moved with each precise adjustment, muscles tensing beneath the dark cotton of his shirt, and his expression stayed locked in that state of quiet focus that you found impossible not to fall for.

He always got this look when he was working. It wasn’t the same as when he was suited up, and the mask turned him into something unrecognizable. This was different, it was unguarded, human, and somehow gentler than it was serious. His brow was furrowed, eyes shadowed beneath the glow of the overhead lamp, lips pressed together in a line of pure concentration. You’d seen him like this a thousand times, but tonight, something tugged at you harder than usual.

Maybe it was the light. Maybe it was the faint streaks of silver catching at his temples, gleaming soft against the dark hair. The change had crept in slowly, over months that bled together, and now it had settled there like it had always belonged. He didn’t seem to notice it much, but you did... every time he bent over the table, every time he brushed his hair back with those scarred fingers, every time the light hit just right.

You finally stood from your stool, moving toward him without saying anything, until you eased down into his lap. He didn’t startle, instead his hands stilled on the gadget, but his face didn’t change, only his eyes lifting to meet yours. The faintest smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, that small, private one that only ever came out here.. with you.

“Can’t work like this,” he grumbled, voice low and rough from not being used for so many hours, his words threading through the hum of the computers.

“You absolutely can,” you hummed softly, looping your arms around his neck. “You just don’t want to admit that I make it better.”

He gave a quiet half sigh/half laugh, and tilted his head a bit to look at you and take your closeness in. “You think so?”

“Absolutely, otherwise I wouldn't still be sitting like this.” You said it easily, tracing your fingertips through his hair, feeling the soft contrast between the dark and the silver.

He set down the small tool he’d been holding, his fingers sliding instinctively to your waist. “You’re staring again,” he murmured, his tone gentle but knowing, as though it wasn’t the first time he’d caught you doing it.

“Can you blame me?” your voice softer now, fingers brushing through the strands almost absentmindedly, your cheek pressed against his broad shoulder as you batted your eyes up at him. “You look unfairly good like this.”

“Like what?” he asked, a quiet challenge in his tone even as his mouth tilted in amusement.

“Like time’s trying to catch you and you’re still winning.”

That earned you a low chuckle, his shoulders easing as though he couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at him. His hand shifted higher on your hip, the warmth of his palm making your eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Most people try not to point out when someone’s getting older,” he teased, his voice dipping a bit.

“Most people aren’t me.” You smiled as you said it, the light from the monitors catching faintly in your eyes. “And anyway, the silver makes you look…” You paused, your hand brushing gently against his temple. “It makes you look real. Like you finally belong somewhere instead of trying to carry everything.” After a moment, your tongue poked your cheek as a grin lit up your face, "And it makes you look hotter."

He studied you for a long moment, the silence stretching comfortably between you before he huffed a small breath of laughter. “You always have something to say, don’t you?”

“Only when I’m right.”

He smiled at that, it was a slow and rare thing that softened the sharpness of his face. “You’re scarily obsessed.”

“Utterly,” you admitted, fingers still sliding lazily through his hair. His eyes fluttered shut briefly at your touch, and you felt his breath warm against your wrist.

You tilted your head closer, your voice low near his ear. “Do you even know what you look like right now? You could walk into a room and stop hearts. You don’t even need the suit.”

He opened his eyes again, meeting your gaze with that half-amused, half-embarrassed look you adored. “That’s dramatic,” he said, but his thumb traced slow circles over your hip.

“So is the man who lives in a cave,” you whispered, smiling against his jaw, your lips pressing gently to the scarred line of his skin. “You can’t blame me for appreciating the view.”

He laughed quietly, the sound muffled against your lips as you gave him a gentle kiss, full of love. With a soft content sigh, he leaned forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder, your cheek squishing against the side of his head. His voice came out low, half a mutter. “You’re going to make me stop working completely.”

“That’s the goal,” you admitted simply, your hand still in his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. You felt him relax beneath your touch, the tension bleeding out of his frame as his breath steadied.

After a moment, he spoke again, quieter now. “You ever think about what happens when it’s all grey?”

“Then,” you said, your tone softening, “I’ll finally get what I’ve been waiting for... the perfect silver fox.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his mouth curving in that subtle, nearly hidden smile. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Never,” you whispered, brushing a thumb across his cheekbone. “Not when it comes to you.”

He kissed you then. It was slow and deliberate, with the kind of tenderness that made everything else fall away. You felt the scratch of stubble against your skin, the faint metallic smell of oil still on his hands, the warmth of him sinking into you completely. When he finally broke the kiss, he stayed close, his breath catching softly against your lips.

“You’re supposed to let me finish this before you start distracting me,” he murmured, though the roughness in his tone made it sound more like a confession than a complaint.

“You’re really thinking about work right now?” you teased, your hand brushing through the silver again just to see his eyes flutter shut. “When I’m sitting right here?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, his hand found yours, his thumb tracing over your knuckles in slow, absent patterns. The silence between you felt steady, safe — the kind that didn’t need to be filled. When he finally spoke, it was quiet, almost to himself.

“Maybe I’ll finish later.”

You smiled, leaning in until your forehead rested against his. “That’s what I thought.”

ᝰ.ᐟ edawgz 2025.

♯┆ 𝟎.𝟏 wayne collection. 𝟎.𝟐 dc collection. 𝟎.𝟑 mlist.

[christianbalesblueadidas]

thinking about silver fox bale bruce wayne 🤤

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

MAY YOU NEVER LOSE YOUR HYPERFIXATION

[thelordofthereese]

BOBBY PLATT FANFICTION

This is my first time ever publishing a fanfic so be noice if it's not the greatest or if there are any mistakes/typos >.< I'm uploading this for @thejuliaisinthehouse

Plot: What if instead of Mr Summers Bobby had met a girl instead, and instead of the work being burying dead animals, it was feeding strays instead?

Word count: 2,079

Note: This is written in the first person POV because that's how the original novel is written (if that makes sense)

Chapter 1: The young man

I decided to walk home from work since I'd eaten too much at breakfast, and my stomach began to hurt. I carried a half eaten ham and cheese sandwich, one of the two I had for lunch. I figured I was going to put it in the fridge and eat it for dinner, when I spotted a skinny little mutt. It had short white and orange fur, and beady brown eyes whose hopeful gaze met mine. I noticed I could see its ribs even from a distance. So I walked over and crouched to give it my leftover sandwich. I got up and pocketed the sandwich paper, since I couldn't see any garbage bins around. 

As I walked on the side of the road, I heard footsteps trailing behind me. I stopped to see if the footsteps would too, and sure enough, it did. I continued walking and so did who was following me. I wondered if it was the dog, and if I won its affection by giving it my sandwich. I don't really know what I'd do if it were the little mutt. I'm not very good at taking care of pets, and I'd feel bad if I had to shoo it away. I finally decided to turn around, and to my surprise it wasn't the stray but a young man.

 He seemed startled, as if he were surprised that I noticed he was following me. He picked at his bottom lip in a skittish manner.

He didn't seem like a creep. Not that I think I'm pretty enough to be creeped on anyway. He kept still, looking at the ground.  “Can I help you?” I asked curtly. 

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” He said with a gentle voice that made me repent of my unkindness towards him. He had a soft face with handsome features that moved to make a sort of childlike expression.

“I just saw what you did, and I thought it was really nice.” 

“What?” I had an idea of what he meant but I still said 'what' just in case I was wrong.

“Giving that dog your sandwich.” Ever since I've been living in Cornwall, I've fed strays whenever I could. However, this is the first time anyone has approached me, let alone praised me about it. I've always thought of myself as invisible, and that nothing I did mattered to anyone.

"Oh, well it looked like it needed it more than me.” The young man gave me an open-mouthed smile, which led me to assume he was going to say something. But he didn't. He just gave me a nod while looking at the ground. I took it as a sign that our interaction was at its end. So I gave him a smile and nod in return, and went on my way. 

I thought of that young man my entire walk home. He was quite cute, really. But I crossed out all possibilities of him being interested in me. I find myself so repulsive that it's an otherworldly thought to think that any man would find me attractive. I thought of how awkward our little conversation was, and if he was making fun of me. Not that he seemed like the type to do that. In fact, there was something innocent and pure about him. But I always have this suspicion that everyone is secretly making fun of me. It's a bit of a narcissistic thought, really. That I'd be important enough to be spoken of, when everyone's busy with their own lives. But I worry about it anyway. I feel so ashamed just existing. I always feel like I'm taking up so much space, and that I make everyone uncomfortable with my presence. I try my best to disappear in every room I enter. I pretend like I'm not with all those people, and it makes me feel like I'm just floating. Free to exist, away from everyone's expectations and opinions of me. 

I finally reached the front door of my flat. It was a very shabby one, the paint of its walls were chipped, the metals were rusting, and most of the window shades were falling apart. You also had to be careful about where you rested your hand, or you might lift it and see some unexplainable goo on your fingertips. But it was cheap, and relatively near my university. My room was on the third floor, at the end of the hallway. I had cleaned and renovated it to the best of my abilities, and I somewhat turned it into a cozy little haven. One that I'm excited to come home to after each tiring day. 

I went inside and took off and hung my shoes on the shoe rack. I immediately plopped myself on the couch, and let out a deep breath. Sometimes I'm tired just doing nothing. I'm tired of the awareness that I'm wasting my day, worrying instead of doing what I'm supposed to. Well at least I've gotten over my anxiety of being around other students. I used to feel nauseous around them, like there was something pressing on my stomach which made it hard for me to breathe. I mean, I should be used to it, it's been years. Now I just feel bored of them. I think the best way to describe it would be like being around grey blobs. I'm almost graduating anyway. Which means I won't have to be around them anymore, unless we work at the same place after university. But it also means having to get used to new people. 

I don't really know why I'm so afraid, they're just human beings like me. But for some reason I feel so far away from them. I've never really connected with others. I've never felt like a girl. I've always felt like a creature pretending to be one amongst them. And I certainly don't feel like a boy, and I'm thankful I don't. I wasn't always this bad at socializing though, but I've only gotten worse the older I become. But it's for the best, I prefer being alone anyway. I have more time to do whatever I want without anyone bothering me. Although sometimes I wish I had someone to talk to about my day. I think the brain gets overloaded if you never talk about what's in it. 

***

The next day on my way to work, I saw the young man again on the other side of the road. It was the same one where we had first met. I felt relieved for some reason, that I got to see him again. But this time, he wasn't alone. He was talking to a man in his mid thirties, who had a woman next to him, giggling nonstop. I still had a few minutes more before my call time, and curiosity had gotten the best of me, so I decided to observe what was going on.

The man stood in front of him with his mouth open as he gave him a lecture. “How would you like to be all squashed up like that and killed when you weren't hurting anyone? it's not fair.” The woman started giggling harder after she heard what the young man said. But unlike the woman, the man didn't find it funny, and his face started turning red.

To my surprise, he lunged at the young man and hit him on the face. The young man fell to the ground and started crying out loud. It resembled the cry of a child, and my heart broke just listening to it. The man took him by his collar and I knew he was going for another punch.  I gasped and yelled out “Hey, stop that!” in my panic.  I didn't know what I was doing. I knew I should be afraid, because if that man could hurt that young man effortlessly, he most certainly could do worse to me. 

But somehow it didn't matter at that moment. I ran over to the young man as fast as I could, and I helped him get up. I only started to feel afraid once I realized how close I was to the violent man. The lady next to him was still giggling, and it began to irritate me terribly, and I wished I could smack her as well. I held the young man by his arms with my shaking hands. 

“Who are you?” The man asked me. He had a terrible, deep voice that rumbled in my ears. I knew I was supposed to say something to him, to give him a piece of my mind, and put him in his place. But I couldn't even bring myself to look at him. And I felt I was going to go crazy by the sound of the woman's giggles. The young man was still sobbing, and I felt the best thing to do was to get us away from them.

I dragged him towards the other direction, which averted our gaze completely off the pair. The woman's unbearable giggling had stopped,  and as we walked away, I heard the man yell “Hey, where are you going?” My eyes widened, and I felt my head throb in fear. I walked faster, so the young man would follow my pace. I kept repeating “Just get away from him.” over and over again in my head without looking back. 

I thought the violent man would chase after us, but thankfully he didn't. When we got to a safe distance away from them, I finally stopped and looked at the young man. He was still crying, and I could understand why. The man had really done a number on his face, and I could already see the big bruise forming on his cheekbone. 

“Hey, hey, it's okay. He can't hurt you anymore. See?” 

I tapped his arm gently and urged him to look at the road behind us. He sniffled and looked around for any signs of the man, when he realized there was none, he tried to gain composure and stop his crying.  “It hurts.” he whined out, and his face contorted to the most pitiable expression. I felt like a moron for not realizing that we had to put an ice pack on his face sooner. 

Thankfully, I knew of a supermarket nearby, and had some money with me, so I was able to buy him one quickly. He thanked me after I gave it to him, and I told him it was no problem. Thinking my job here was done, I told him “I guess I'll get going now.” But then he started walking with me.

“Wait—"

“Hm?”

“Where are you going?”

“To work, I'm already very late.”

“C-could I come with you? I promise I won't be a bother.”

“No, I'm sorry. I'm afraid you have to go home now.” I reached into my pocket to give him some money. “Here, get a cab.” He moved his hand away from mine, and he shook his head.

 “But I can't go home.”

“Why not?"

“I haven't got a home.”

“You're homeless?”

“Well—yes, I… you see I've run away…” 

“From what? Don't tell me the police are involved—”

“No! No… of course not.”

“Well then what? Because I can't just take you with me. I don't even know you.”

“Oh please! I swear I'll be good.”

“No, I'm sorry—”

“But I don't have anywhere to go!” 

He began to cry and tears streamed down his cheeks as he fell to the ground. He clutched the ice pack so hard I thought he'd make a hole in it. He was much taller than me, but at that moment he seemed so small, and I knew I couldn't just leave him out here.

“Get up, get up.” 

He sniffled as I grabbed his shoulders to help him up.  

“Stop crying now. I guess you can come with me.” His face lit up as soon as he heard the word “can”, and the pout on his face was replaced by a big grin. 

“But promise me you won't cause any trouble. I'm already very late, and I don't want to add on to my earful.” 

“Of course—I told you I wouldn't be a bother.” he said excitedly, wiping the tears off his face. 

“Since you're coming with me, do you mind telling me your name?”

He gave me an amused huff and said his name was Bobby.

[shesnake]

Little Women (1994) dir. Gillian Armstrong

[naitsirhcuevol]

Christian Bale @ 2009 Directors Guild Awards

[filmzsource]

CHRISTIAN BALE as Jack Kelly in Newsies

[thelordofthereese]

Cutest boy ever

[dinspairation]

[thejuliaisinthehouse]

[thelordofthereese]

Laurie Laurence artttt #littlewomen1994 #christianbale #laurie #theodorelaurence #littlewomen #art #digitalart

[machineryangel]

christian bale having a normal one and lighting his hair on fire.mp4

[thelordofthereese]

Aww baby

[thelordofthereese]

how fast would you bounce on fatbale

as fast as light babe

[thelordofthereese]

Created a moodboard for the first time in my life. I know it's cringe, but to be cringe is to be free, no?