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call-me-strega · 3 months

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Dc x Dp Prompt #10: Inter-Dimensional Bake-Off

Alfred was checking the mail the manor had received that day when he found it. In between bills, fan mail, and company missives was a regal purple envelope addressed to one Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth. Intrigued, Alfred set aside the rest of the mail and sat to open the letter.

Inside was a high quality cardstock invitation of a metallic silver color decorated with luxurious midnight green script. It declared on the front:

“You Are Cordially Invited”

Alfred raised an eyebrow and flipped open card.

Dear, Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth You have been cordially invited to participate in the first annual inter-dimensional bake-off to celebrate the coronation of the young, King Phantom, age 21, Ruler of the Infinite Realms, the Great One, Protector of Souls, Keeper of Peace, The Perfect Balance, The Infinite King, Ancient of Space and Reality. We have discerned that you are among the top 25 bakers in the 11 most stable and prominent dimensions with an open connection to the Infinite Realms. Thus, we would like to offer you the opportunity to show off and test your skills against talented competitors. Should you accept, all transport, accommodation, amenities, materials, and potentially needed medical care shall be provided by the King and his court. If you would like to bring any specific ingredients or tools you are welcome to file a request for them when you arrive and they shall be summoned to you at the start of the competition. You are allowed one plus one either as an assistant or moral support. Should you have any questions please write them down and place them on the sigil on the next page and recite the incantation bellow: “bonvolu respondi mian demandon” The event shall occur in a fortnight upon the weekend before the kings official coronation ceremony. In order to confirm your participation in the competition please burn this letter with one of your most recently made baked goods. In order to decline simply dissolve this message under running water. Please confirm your attendance or absence within a week’s time. Kind Regards, the Council of Ancients Advisors to the Good King Phantom

Well, it seemed like Alfred had earned a place in a rather prestigious event. ‘It seems a finally have a reason to make use of all those vacation days Master Bruce keeps insisting I must utilize.’ He smiled to himself, tucking the letter into his pocket. ‘I wonder if Master Jason would be amicable to accompanying me for a weekend of baking in a magical dimension?’

~ Just in case anyone has trouble reading the letter:

Dear, Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth You have been cordially invited to participate in the first annual inter-dimensional bake-off to celebrate the coronation of the young, King Phantom, age 21, Ruler of the Infinite Realms, the Great One, Protector of Souls, Keeper of Peace, The Perfect Balance, The Infinite King, Ancient of Space and Reality. We have discerned that you are among the top 25 bakers in the 11 most stable and prominent dimensions with an open connection to the Infinite Realms. Thus, we would like to offer you the opportunity to show off and test your skills against talented competitors. Should you accept, all transport, accommodation, amenities, materials, and any potentially needed medical care shall be provided by the King and his court. If you would like to bring any specific ingredients or tools you are welcome to file a request for them when you arrive and they shall be summoned to you at the start of the competition. You are allowed one plus one either as an assistant or moral support. Should you have any questions please write them down and place them on the sigil on the next page and recite the incantation bellow: “bonvolu respondi mian demandon” The event shall occur in a fortnight upon the weekend before the kings official coronation ceremony. In order to confirm your participation in the competition please burn this letter with one of your most recently made baked goods. In order to decline simply dissolve this message under running water. Please confirm your attendance or absence within a week’s time. Kind Regards, the Council of Ancients Advisors to the Good King Phantom

The Esperanto translates to “please answer my question"

Edit: now with possible contestants

#long post #dc x dp #alfred pennyworth #jason todd #danny phantom #interdimensional bake-off #to celebrate Danny’s coronation #ghost king danny #alfred is a good baker #this spawned from the idea that Alfred should have a cook off with the Lunch Lady #potential dead on main #but not 100% necessary #Strega’s dc x dp prompt

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gay-dorito-dust · 14 days

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Could I request headcanons of Jason Todd with a reader who is a talented chef and baker?

Jason loves, loves, loves to eat but he loves to eat whatever you make especially.

It’s just so damn good and enticing that he can’t help but want to steal a bite while you were working your magic on some cookie dough in the kitchen.

Jason likes to claim he’s helping you when in actuality he was just being a little shit.

You still remembered the time where you had caught Jason red hand eating something he shouldn’t have, and still have the audacity to look at you with his attempt at puppy dog eyes.

He should be lucky you like him enough to make him whatever he wanted in bulk, seeing as how he had quite the appetite as you’ve once watched him wolf down four homemade burgers, chips and still found room in his stomach to indulge in something sweet.

You couldn’t count how many times you had to swat him away with your spatula when you saw his hand creeping towards a cooling tray of gooey double chocolate chip cookies.

‘Jason!’ You exclaimed. ‘Stop trying to eat the cookie before they’ve had time to cool down!’

‘But sweetheart it’s not my fault that your cookies are so good! They even maintain that gooey chocolate chip goodness that you know I like.’ Jason says as he hugs you from behind, pressing kisses into your shoulder, neck and head.

‘You’re just buttering me up so that I’d give you an early taste.’ You pouted, looking away from him as you feigned hurt. ‘Admit it, you’re only with me for the fact that I can cook and bake your favourite things.’

Jason, feeling a little bad for making you think that, was quick in having you look at him as he apologised. ‘I’m sorry chipmunk, you know I love you beyond your ability to cook food and sweet treats and make it look like an art form. How about I help you cook tonight or let me took for you instead to make up for it?’ He asks as he kept you close to him and planting kisses across your face.

His lips tasted very much like the chocolate chip cookies and after a while you just couldn’t keep up pretending to be mad at him and smile into his lips as you kissed him back before inevitably pulling away. ‘That sounds perfect jay bird but let me cook and you just stand there and look pretty.’ You cheeked as Jason gasped.

‘You only like me because I’m pretty? How shallow of you chipmunk.’ Jason joked and you couldn’t help but kiss his lips once more. ‘I like you because you’ve got a bottomless stomach.’ You then playfully prodded at his tummy and Jason jolted at the touch, which made you laugh as you went back to what you were previously doing before Jason interrupted.

‘Can I at least have a nibble?’ Jason asked after a moment of silence against your neck.

‘No, I think you’ve already had enough nibbles don’t you?’ You asked with a smile as you felt Jason pout.

‘Mean.’ He muttered childishly.

‘Mean is you eating the cookie dough and saying oops after I caught you.’ You replied and Jason stayed silent after that.

Jason hyped up your cooking and baking simultaneously and would praise your natural talent for it to anyone with ears to hear him, which had lead to one or many instances where his friend Roy or his family came over to see what all the hype was about.

Needless to say you’ve gotten more people who were obsessed with your baking/cooking and as for Alfred? You were sharing recipes and what techniques you use when prepping food, the usage of spices and herbs and so on in hopes of enhancing the flavour of the dish.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagines #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood imagines

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issdisgrace · 7 months

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I'd love to request, jason x male reader, who has a prosthetic arm and leg, you can decide. And the reader meeting the Wayne family for the first time, and Bruce being a bit judgy. Maybe Bruce even asking Jason in Private if he's sure the reader is the right person

I hope you're comfortable writing this :)

YOU SURE ABOUT THIS

WARNINGS: None unless you count swearing.

A/N: Y/n just has a prosthetic arm. Also when i was writing i wrote this with Bucky Barnes in my mind.

I look over at Y/n as I park in front of the manor.

“Are you sure about this? We can go home and order takeout.”

“I can do this, Jason. I need to, they are your family.”

“You don’t need to do anything that you don’t feel comfortable with.”

“If I didn’t step out of my comfort zone, then I wouldn’t be here with you right now. So let’s get this show on the road.”

“Ok and remember we can leave at anytime.”

“I’ll be fine Jason and stop worrying so much, it will give you wrinkles.” Y/n days before giving me a quick kiss on the lips before getting out of the car. I sigh to myself before getting out as well. He’s right. He’s always right. Can’t he ever be wrong? I reach out for his hand and gently lead him up the steps of the manor. As I got to knock on the door, it opens and revealing Alfred.

“Master Jason and you must be Master Y/n pleasure to meet you. I’m Alfred Pennyworth, the butler. Please do come in.” Alfred says, stepping to the side to let us in. Walking in the warmth of the manor is comforting, like always, especially on cooler evenings like this.

“Pleasure to meet you to Alfred. I’ve heard a lot about you from Jason.”

“All good, I hope,” Alfred says as he closes the door.

“Very much. I heard that you are an excellent cook.”

“And baker. He makes a mean snickerdoodle.” I add.

“You always know how to falter me, Master Jason. Anyway, your father and brothers are in the living room. I must get back to the kitchen to make sure nothing burned.”

“Alright, thanks Alfred.” I watch as Alfred walks down the hall and when he’s out of earshot, I ask.

“You good.” Y/n grabs my face with his hands.

“I’m good Jason.” He says before giving me a kiss.

“Ok.” I say as I pull away.

“Now, how about you introduce me to your family?”

“Alright, it’s just this way.” I say as I start to lead him towards the livingroom. I notice the way he looks around. It’s in admiration.

“This place is very beautiful.”

“I guess.” I say, leading them into the livingroom.

“Jason, my son. It’s good to see you,” Bruce says, getting up from his armchair.

“Good to see you too, old man. This is Y/n, Y/n this is Bruce.”

“Nice to meet you, Bruce.” Y/n says, reaching out to shake his hand. Bruce shakes his hand and I can see the way his eyes flicker to Y/n’s prosthetic arm. We take a seat on the empty couch and I silently pray to the gods he doesn’t say anything as my brothers introduce themselves. Of course, the last one is Tim.

“Tim and that a nice piece of metal you got there.” I try to contain myself, feeling the urge to strangle him.

“Yeah, a friend of mine made it for me shortly after I lost my arm. And I’ve been rocking with it sense then.”

“Cool, does it function?”

“It does see,” Y/n says, showing how the arm and hand can move around.

“Thats neat. How do that?”

“I have a plate built into my shoulder that my arm attaches too and that is hooked up to my brain and that’s how I control it.”

“Damn that pretty high tech.” Tim says.

“It is, Drake. May I ask how you lost your arm?” Damian asks surprisingly kindly. Hmm, that is weird. I look over at Y/n and take his hand, giving him a gently squeeze.

“I lost it during my time as a P.O.W..”

“Thank you for your service.” Dick is quick to say with a smile. I sigh to myself, finally relaxing, Its was nice to see Dick

being Dick. I just hope short stack and Bruce don’t say anything insensitive.

“It was my honor to serve.” Y/n days.

This whole thing definitely went better than I suspected. I smile to myself as watch as Dick practically pulls Y/n out of the dining room behind him, wanting to show him around the manor. Tim and Damian following behind them. As I go to join them, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I brush the hand off and turn around to look at Bruce.

“I know this isn’t my place, but are you sure about them? Are you sure they’re the one?” He asks. When he asks that I see fucking red.

“Why? You think they're damaged goods because they lost one of their arms. Well listen here, old man, I love them and I will marry them one day. So keep your shit opinion to yourself and go fuck yourself.” I say making sure my anger was on full display. I then turn around and leave the dining room to go find where my brothers dragged my boyfriend off to.

EXTRA:

“Master Bruce, that was very out of line of you.”

“I just want to make sure he’s making the right decision.”

“He is an adult. He can make his own decisions and, remember don’t judge a book by its cover, Master Bruce. I raised you better.”

#jason todd #batfamily #dc #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x reader #batfamily x male reader #batfamily x reader #dc x male reader #dc x reader

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sleepyangelkami · 2 months

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BUTTER ICING d.grayson

☆ WORD COUNT - 1.5K

DICK GRAYSON X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - thinkin' about dick grayson taking care of his baker!so who sometimes forgets to take care of herself.

☆ WARNINGS - mentions of eating? fluff, pet names, reader is mentioned to be short, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

yet another call from his ex-bulter had dick rolling out of the bed at, according to his beautiful girlfriend, you, 'ungodly hours'. he had pressed a mere kiss against your forehead, telling you that he'd be home soon and joking for you to 'be good'. you'd merely giggled under the blankets, thankful no one was waking you at such an hour and snuggling back into the comfort of your bed.

and he couldn't help but admire you. one would think after so many phone calls for him to leave whether it was early hours of the morning or the late hours of the night, you'd be somewhat mad. but you understood dick and his line of work and his especially impatient father.

he truly didn't deserve you.

he kept his promise, somewhat. he wasn't exactly home 'soon' but he was home as soon as he could be. getting bruce off his back was like a work out he hadn't prepared for. but nevertheless, it was around seven in the evening when he was walking through the door, charming smile on his lips. "honey, i'm home!" he'd joked in a sing-song voice. he did this every time he stepped through that front door. he could only imagine you rolling your eyes with a grin on your lips.

"kitchen!" you'd yelled back as he found himself walking towards that very room, discarding his bags near the living room door, deciding to deal with that later on. all that was on his mind was you.

and there you were, in the kitchen as you'd told him. only you weren't standing up, instead you were knelt on the kitchen counter, attempting to reach past the top cupboard where your containers for your baked goods were. "darling?" he received a hum from you, your tongue darting out between your two lips. "what are you doing?"

finally, you turned with a huff. "i can't reach the containers." his eyes glanced to the kitchen table which held a multitude of cupcakes. they were all decorated with yellow butter icing, little chocolates placed delicately on top. the smell of cupcakes was rather rich in your shared kitchen.

he could only chuckle softly, his hands moving to your under arms and gently lifting you down from the counter. if you kept climbing up there, you were bound to get hurt. "you shouldn't put them where you can't reach them then." he spoke, a playful smile on his lips as he reached his long arms up, taking down one of your containers. "who are these for anyway?"

being a baker had it's perks but being the baker's boyfriend was even better. he could eat as many treats as he liked and he didn't even have to lift a finger. "miriam." you spoke, thanking him softly for getting the container before loading the cupcakes in. "she'll be here at eleven tomorrow." as you turned your back, dick eyed you before taking one of the cupcakes into his grasp. by the time you turned around, half of it had been emptied into his mouth. you just blinked at him. "you know, i make extra cupcakes just because i know you'll eat them all."

with a mouthful, he spoke. "sorry." but you could only smile at him, placing the other cupcakes into the container and leaving a couple extra scattered across the counter for the dog to eat, oh, my bad, for dick to eat. "you can't just make cupcakes and expect me not to get hungry."

your eyebrow raised. "you were at the manor all day, don't try to convince me that alfred wasn't practically shoving food down your throat."

god, he did love alfred's cooking. "a man's gotta eat." he shrugged. "what'd you have for dinner."

he watched as your eyes widened. "crap! i was supposed to make―"

"shh." he pressed a kiss against the crown of your head. "i'll make some spaghetti bolognese." he was already moving toward the fridge where he new the contents lay.

you often times forgot to go shopping, it was always him that was stocking up the fridge, making sure you didn't go hungry while he was away. don't get me wrong, you still went to the manor with him more often than not. but as a baker, as a home-working baker, you often had to spend your days cooped up in the kitchen so you couldn't join him on his trips.

"dick, you don't have to do that." you were standing behind him, all bashful as your fingers fumbled together.

dick loved taking care of you, don't get me wrong, he just wished you loved it as much as he did, perhaps then you wouldn't be forgetting to feed yourself. you were often times forgetting to do the simple things, the things that involved caring for your own mind and body but when it came to others, you were in tip top shape, ready to care for the next person who walked in the door. he loved that about you but he really wished you'd care about yourself as much as you cared about others.

but it was okay, because as long as he was alive and breathing, he'd make sure you were taken care of.

he'd turned around, his hands finding your waist as he gently soothed the skin. he watched as your cheeks heated up and your smile couldn't wipe from your cheeks. dick was well aware of the affect he had on you. "let me cook you dinner, baby." and when he talked to you like that, well who could refuse?

"okay." you mumbled gently. "thank you."

"don't mention it." but he still leant down, pressing yet another kiss to your face only this time it was to your lips, short and sweet.

by the time dick had started cooking, you were sitting up on the counter, your legs dangling as you took a giant bowl into your hands. dick glanced over, his brows furrowed. "what's that?" he questioned, watching as you lifted a finger from the bowl, covered in butter icing. he couldn't help but roll his eyes. "you know, i think eating mouth fulls of butter icing is probably worse than a couple cupcakes."

you merely shrugged, licking your lips clean. "a baker's gotta have some relief." and it was true.

you didn't just bake because you thought it was rather easy, you loved baking. baking was both a stress reliever and a way to calm down whenever you needed it and hey, it also got you money. but your all time favourite thing about baking? licking the bowls, spatchala's, really anything you could get your hands on, clean.

especially the sweet butter icing.

"here, lemme taste." and as you moved, your hand turning towards the drawer so you could get him out a spoon, you were cut off by the feeling of his lips on yours.

you practically melted into him, allowing him to kiss you sweetly yet slightly rough. you didn't care, feeling your mind go hazy at the mere feeling of his lips. dick always had such an affect on you, you should have been embarrassed yet you simply couldn't find it in yourself to be.

he was the first to pull away, watching as you blinked up at him, slightly dazed. "hmm, sweet." he commented before turning around to the frying pan and using the wooden spoon to turn the contents around.

you, whose stomach had turned to a swarm of butterflies, hopped off of the counter. "I'm gonna..." your head feeling slightly floaty. god, you thought, pull yourself together. "gonna go fill the dishwasher."

and dick, who didn't even bother looking up from the frying pan, wore a little smirk that tugged his lips upwards. "okay, pretty girl."

he really was going to be the death of you.

however, you were sure you could die a happy girl while eating the dinner he'd made for you. sure, you liked to bake but nothing did taste better than one of dick's homemade dinner's. you'd been seated across the couch, your legs had been on dick's lap before he'd gotten up a couple minutes ago, pressing a kiss to your lips and not telling you where he'd been going.

you assumed it was to go eat more of your cupcakes and this theory was proved right as you turned your head over the couch, spotting him bent down slightly to read the calendar, chewing on a cupcake while another was in his hand. "sweetheart?" he called out, not bothering to move his gaze from the calendar.

"yes?" you leaned yourself up on the couch, laying your arms flat on the back of it and placing your head down on top of them, admiring your pretty boyfriend. he truly was beautiful, even when he was stuffing his face and he had a smudge of butter icing on his nose.

"when's your next day off?" he questioned, standing up straight again as his eyes flickered back to you.

you shrugged your shoulders. "had a big cancellation for sunday, why?"

"then it's settled." he spoke, opening the buncase of the next cupcake. "i'm taking you out for dinner on sunday."

"wha― you don't have to do that." finding your heart soften at the mere offer.

"it's only fair." he spoke, shrugging his shoulders. "i ate half of your cupcakes."

the perks of being the boyfriend of a baker.

the perks of being the girlfriend of a billionare's son.

main masterlist/dick's masterlist

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bruciemilf · 11 months

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Factually, I know Bruce is a bad cook. In my wonderland brain, however, he's a baker in some Hell's Kitchen-esque neighborhood, both flourishing and festering down the Narrow's ribs.

Curiously, The Bat seems particularly focused on protecting this joint. And whoever walks in it.

The classic myth of food is that it brings people together; That's the one thing everyone, under the greyscale rainbow in Gotham, has in common. Everyone has to eat, and everyone has to die.

And all kinds of people walk in there.

You get thieves with watchful, observant eyes nemorizing the concise, expert movement of your fingers and wonder how these machines of pain and violance can be delicate enough for sweets.

"I know what you are. I know who you are."

"I'm not exactly hiding. "

" I'm gonna rob you now."

" Take some tuna for Iris while you're at it,"

You get jesters with runny make-up and busted lips and a heartbroken hope in their eyes, crying over their fried ice cream,

" I'm stupid. I know -- I know what he's doing to me. And my mom's voice is just pounding in my ear, every fuckin' day, ' You're letting him, Harley. You're letting him and you deserve it. You should've married that fucking doctor. At least he didn't hit you, he just yelled and screamed and called you nasty names.'

Bruce drizzles some extra rainbow sprinkles on her ice cream. " And that voice is wrong." And he'll keep saying that voice is wrong till the day Harley doesn't like ice cream anymore. And that day doesn't exist.

And slowly, you learn not to be impressed. When you live with wolves, you sharpen your teeth. Dogs do what dogs do; they eat. An angry dog is a hungry dog.

And this boy, with a red scarf over his nose, waving a gun in Bruce's face, is looking plenty angry.

"Just fucking stay there, okay?" He'd probably sound more threatening without the glass tremble in his voice. "I'm just gonna take some cash, and,--"

Bruce's calm is frosty; He's got experience with guns being pointed at his face. " Your safety's on. "

Teal eyes are glossy, shining with feral, living fear, like it's Bruce who has him cornered, backed up to a wall and looming death over him. there's no kids in crime alley.

Whatever they are, they can't afford that title. But he looks exactly how boys in crime alley look; Young and scared and haunted.

"What's your name, honey?"

"...Jason."

" Are you hungry, Jason?"

The way he wolfs down three plates with tears running down his cheek answers Bruce plenty.

"You can have the cash, " I don't really need it, goes unspoken. It already feels slimy enough to take it. The charities and well- filled cups of homeless people don't ease that. "I'm guessing you need it."

"It's for my dad," 'Dad' drips from Jason's lips like liquid hatred, " He told me to rob you cause you never call the cops."

" Calling criminals to stop other criminals seems a little counter-productive, " He needs to do something with his hands; Or he'll take Jason and hug him and drag him to the manor, where Alfred can prepare the fluffiest bed, and the warmest bath. So he's packing him something extra, to take at home.

Still. Hearing Jason laugh makes it worth it.

" You can say you got dinner, too."

" I'm not giving Willis shit, " Willis. One of Harvey's guns. They need a chat about working hazards. " Gonna take this to Dickie and Timmy, thought. Dick's gonna love this..."

And Jason, Bruce comes to find out, doesn't know himself half as good as he knows his siblings.

He learns Timmy, the baby brother, loves to skate, and he's the reason they go to the ER every other Thursday. He learns Dick can never run out of energy; Learns he's running on spite alone and they can't go a day without fighting.

And when Bruce is fighting Nightwing, the newest villain in Gotham, he learns both he and Dick can land the meanest Produnova recorded.

#dc #bruce wayne #dc comics #jason todd #au #alternative universe #batdad #battinson #harley quinn #dick grayson #young jason todd #i made him like 16 here so!!!#gonna have to think abt villain batkids and hero bruce soon tho #text #text post

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let-spretend · 3 months

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hey guys !! this is the start to a platonic batfamily & reader fanfic series !! for some background, this is a crossover with re7/8 and batman. i tweaked a lot of how the mold works and the whole timeline with re7/8. if you have any questions, send through the ask ! i'll be happy to answer.

2/18/2024 - edited !!!

cw body dysmorphia/dysphoria, self-harm (self-destructive behavior), vomiting, over-thinking

mold for thought pt. 1

hit me on the head !

Alfred’s carbonara had crispy bacon bits mixed in, with a fresh egg cracked on top. Damian sat ways away from you, across, five chairs down. It’s not like that was where he had to sit. He always just chose to. His pasta was different, a Lemon Basil vegan pasta.

Coming down to eat, it was always just the two of you. Damian ate with class, properly spinning the fork in the pasta. Honestly, you hated watching him eat. Something about it always screamed like he was trying to seem better than you. He was always judging your way of eating, or anything for that matter. Digging your fork into the egg yolk, you watch it spill over the pasta. Your mouth felt dry. Food has made you antsy because of what happened three years ago. Your fingers touch your mouth. You’re fine.

Copying Damian’s movements, you flick the fork and swirl it to collect the pasta. Nothing was wrong with it at all. If anything, it looked perfect. The sauce, creamy. Pepper decorating the pasta and the yolk running down it. You remember the rotting food and foul smell of the Baker’s dinner table. Fighting to not let them shove the rotten food down. Ethan screaming in pain from the prying Jack did to him.

Damian was staring at you intently, waiting for you to eat. You push past the memories and chow down on the pasta. It was good. Really good. “Glad to see you’re enjoying the carbonara, Mastress Y/N.” Alfred hands you a white handkerchief. The white was now stained with a yellowish sauce.

“Thanks, Alfred.” You say, slightly embarrassed. He collects your plate and you struggle to hold in your food. It was tasty, but it felt like it was fighting its way up. You hastily get up, running to the nearest bathroom. Damian was staring at your sudden outburst, but who cares. With no time to lift the seat up, you just splurged into the toilet. The burning sensation in your stomach disappears, instantly. The barf didn’t even have food in it. It was all black, mixed with some blood. The mold. Oddly, there’s always no smell or difference in color. You sigh in relief and waste no time flushing it all down.

When you were first getting used to the Wayne manor, you used to cut to see if your blood was also mold. You convinced yourself it was just to check. Partially, it was true. With Superman’s help, you’ve slowly just accepted that you have mold. It’s always tempting to go back, but you know it only spirals for the worst. Throwing up was also self-destructive and you knew. You don’t know why you keep doing it. You touch what scars you could see, some self inflicted, from that place in Dulvey, others from crime-fighting. It never gets easier.

You needed to go out today. The mold was practically screaming at you to release some of it out of your body. Washing your hands and scooping some of the water into your mouth, you feel somewhat refreshed. Going back to the dining area, Damian was nowhere to be found, except his dishes were left on the table. You collect them and help Alfred with the dishes. “I gotta go out tonight. I’ll shovel the snow before I sleep, deal?” He chuckles and places the two clean dishes on a drying rack.

“Be careful, Mastress Y/N.” Alfred lightly smiles. You smile back and wave before leaving. Gotham in December was beautiful. You could almost forget the horrors of the city when it was silent and the moon was out. The lights hit the snow and everything seemed brighter.

Your backpack was hidden within some trees, containing your costume and weapons. It wasn’t anything special. Just baggy clothes, some gloves and a mask that covered your entire head. All black but has white where your eyes would be on the mask. Changing into your costume, you feel safer somehow. Your identity being unknown, just felt, nice. Your abilities come from the mold. Besides the mold, it gave you superhuman strength, the ability to reattach limbs, and heightened senses. The mold comes in handy to grapple around the city. You don’t use it to apprehend people or touch anything living. It’s not that you’ve actually seen people get infected with your mold, but you’ve seen non-sentient living items crumble from it. You aren’t going to risk anything. You’re reluctant to let anyone touch you if not necessary.

Fighting petty crime was your thing. Not fighting global threats, not busting huge gang activity, but small robberies, stopping physical or sexual assaults and more. It made you sad that these crimes were considered petty and too small for major heroes to handle. The people named you, the Peril. Which was funny since, what exact peril were you bringing to Gotham? It didn’t really bother you since the name was cool, but you don’t go around calling yourself the Peril.

Being a vigilante, there were its perks and disadvantages. For you, a disadvantage is the Bats. You would encounter them every other time you would leave to be fighting for civilians.

While swinging around, you find a man being mugged. You swoop down and kick the robber’s face in. She falls to the floor and drops the man’s wallet. You grab her by the shirt and threaten her with anything you can think of. The robber looks you in the eye and scurries off, holding her cheek. You try not to engage in combat. It’s not like you were bad at it, but you were a dirty fighter. Unlike the Bats, you don’t know any martial arts. Just street fighting and your ability to use guns. You don’t want to kill anybody. So no guns. Plus, being in Batman’s “turf”, you had to respect his no gun policy. But you were working on making guns with safe bullets.

You could feel a presence watching over your encounter. Maybe Batman? Silently, you give the man his wallet. He thanks you profusely and runs off. You tend to not talk when it's not necessary.

You turned around and cock your head, gesturing he talk. Batman seemed surprised that you knew he was there. Robin stands next to him, disinterested in you. His arms crossed and his head looked the other way. You pay no attention.

“The Peril.” Batman says. You let out a stifled laugh, you always do. He never gave you the time of day out of costume. Without him even asking, you knew he was trying to recruit you.

“No.” You answer, curtly. Grappling away, you leave Batman and Robin in the alley alone. He asks you at least once a week. Which you feel is both a perk and downside. You wish for his approval and want to be of use to Batman. At the same time, you want to lash out toward the man, for being so ignorant.

You feel your phone buzz, deep in a pant pocket. Superman. You like his company. Compassionate and a symbol to the people, yet, an outsider. Being infected with the mold, you feel out of place and in the wrong body. Superman is an alien, trying to find his place within Earth. He’s taught you to be okay with the fact that you are different now. But you feel like he’s hiding something from you. He was sitting on a rooftop of an abandoned building. “Superman.” Your feet land on the ledge he was sitting on.

“P.” You both meet up when you can. He has been the one guiding you through the vigilante scene. Other than him, you have only worked with the Red Hood. He was a mystery to you. From what you’ve seen, he’s somehow related to the Bats. You don’t really care for his identity. He can be nice to you, but he often does his work in ways you disagree with. He’s erratic and does what he wants. One thing you both have in common, is your distaste for Batman.

You knew Clark’s name because he told you. You never really knew why. He doesn’t know your name. Or at least, he hasn’t called you by it. He could easily look through your mask and see your true identity. You’re grateful he’s respecting your privacy. You decide not to call him by his name when on duty.

Superman takes off at a slower speed than normal and you swing after him. “Batman tried to team up with me again.” You say, defeated. Laughing a bit and sighing at the same time after you confess. It feels so stupid to be sad about it every time. You stop on top of a building. “I declined. Again.” He also stops. Superman lightly lands and leans close. He decides not to say anything.

Clark gives you a piggyback gesture and you get on. He heads for Metropolis, fast enough to be there in mere minutes but slow enough to keep your skin on. At least once a week, you and Superman band together and work on whatever it was at that moment. Today it was Lex Luthor shenanigans. Although smaller threats were your preferred thing, fighting big threats wasn’t bad.

After the fight, you go out and eat ice cream; Being with Superman helps you forget things. He puts a hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want me to explain things, kiddo?”

“Definitely not. I’m honored that he’s interested in my skills. But, he doesn’t know it’s me. I know when he finds out he’ll lose interest and stop me from doing this. Or, maybe he won’t. I don’t know. I’m not going to risk it.” You latch onto Clark’s back again and he starts flying toward Gotham. You peer down to the bottom and admire the small people and buildings. You slightly tug at Superman’s shoulder to get his attention. “I’m going to be gone for a week. I don’t know when, but I’ll text you then.”

He keeps facing forward but acknowledges your message with a slight nod. “I’ll miss you a lot. I like our talks.” He breathes deeply out of the nose. “I’ll try to do what I can with Bruce. Without being obvious.” You’re very grateful he’s doing all this for you. He lands at the same spot you met up at.

“Thank you. Oh, and here. For Jon.” You hand Superman a cat keychain from your backpack. “He told me about his cat. My stitching isn’t very good but maybe it’ll cheer him up a bit.” Superman pocketed it safely, god knows where. You check the time and sigh. “I gotta go. Told Alfred I’ll shovel up the snow at the manor.” You swing away while waving goodbye. Still, that looming feeling hasn’t left you and it’s definitely not Batman this time.

Stashing your backpack in the same place as before, you tread quietly into Wayne's property. It was two in the morning. Rubbing your eyes, you take the shovel. You sigh at the amount of land Bruce owned. Deciding to just shovel the snow on the pavement, you treat it as training. Scooping as much snow as possible and carrying it around, tossing it or regular shoveling. You wish you could train where and how your siblings did.

Staring at the gigantic pile of snow, you put your hands on your hips and lean backwards. Back problems at 17? You laugh at the thought. Entering through the front door, Alfred greeted you with some hot chocolate. His infamous hot cocoa, filled with mini marshmallows. “I could never pass up your hot chocolate.” Alfred makes eating much more enjoyable and feel safer. The hot chocolate was right in the middle of a tray. The liquid burns your tongue but it warms up your insides.

“How was patrol, Mastress Y/N?” Alfred asks.

“Oh, nothing special.” You quickly turn it down. You don’t really let Alfred entertain any thought about your work. He knows of your secret “vigilante-ing” and decides to keep your promise of keeping it a secret from Bruce. You don’t really understand why, but you guess Alfred understands your situation and tries to get Bruce to be a parent to you. He tries to remind Bruce every now and then. Wants Bruce to notice himself, but his work consumes him. Bruce also thinks you’re okay because you can't physically and mentally be hurt anymore like his other children, who fight crime. While that could be true if you didn’t, that doesn’t mean you should be put aside.

“Thanks for waiting for me, Alfred.” You add. He nods.

“You must go to sleep. It is a school night after all.” You set the mug back onto the tray and apologize for the extra dishes to wash. Quietly slipping into your shared room with Damian, you celebrate when he’s not in the room. He was a light sleeper and he always questions why you’re out so late. You made him believe you’re some party animal. Which, you admit, would be cooler than being a vigilante.

You’ve always wondered why you and Damian shared a room. The manor was spacious and had ample room for both of you to have your own. You sometimes think they somehow knew you were being self-destructive and made him monitor you. Or, maybe to punish him by being with you. You try not to question everything Bruce decides, but it’s hard not to.

You sink into the silky bed sheets and just stay that way. Not bothering to get into them. Your room was a place of comfort, but being in the manor always tired you. It reminded you of the absence of Bruce and your siblings. Being away from Ethan, you feel you miss out on so much. Bruce and your siblings have a bond over being Bats, Ethan has Rose now, and Alfred doesn’t just take care of you. You’re happy that he gives you any attention.

Alfred the Cat climbs up onto your bed and snuggles into you. One reason you’re happy you’re rooming with Damian and not somebody else. You’re reluctant to pet him because of the mold. But you convince yourself you can do it. You pet him softly and sigh. He meows quietly from the petting and begins to purr.

A quiet click comes from behind you, quiet footsteps ensue after an hour of your sulking. “Are you still up?” Despite knowing he knows you’re awake, you decide to fake it. Your hand is still on top of Alfred the cat’s head. “I know that you are awake.” You sigh and decide to face upwards.

You couldn’t make out exactly where he was standing but look in the general direction of where his voice was. “Okay, maybe I am. Why?” He also sits on his bed, slightly creaking.

“Was just wondering why you were throwing up your brains out after Alfred’s dinner. Rude, much?” Shit. He heard that? That’s why he was gone when you were back. You think back to when he was Robin a couple hours ago, giving attitude. Rude, much?

“Just nervous ‘bout the trip.” Which was true. “I’m going to visit Mr. Winters for a week, to see the baby. I want her to like me.” He lets out a sound that seems like he half believes you, but he doesn’t care enough to pry. “Anyways, I’m going to pick you up sometime next week. For publicity, as Mr. Wayne says.”

He sighs. “I know.” You wait for more, but all he does is settle in bed. What a cute little brother. No thanks or comment. Guess that’s just how they all act.

Also trying to settle in bed, you feel bad again. Not trying to alarm Damian, all you do is put a hand on your closed eyes and try to soothe yourself. Ethan will understand this feeling, right? Your body doesn’t feel like your own anymore and you hate that you can’t even control your mold well. You still have to listen to it, have to release it. What if you suddenly couldn’t control it and it infects Damian right now? Turn out like the Bakers? Shutting your eyes tight, you flop your body so that you are lying on your stomach. Breathing deeply into your pillows, it slows. You turn your head sideways for fresh air. The cat was sleeping peacefully next to you.

Right. Tomorrow’s school. You had to be okay. You flip onto your back and close your eyes, letting your brain take over. Mold, mold and more mold. Accepting that your dream was going to be about mold, you sigh, letting sleep take over you. Damian watches, recognizing that you had some sort of stress-induced breakdown before bed. He jots something down and puts it away in this nightstand.

You wake due to a feeling of being watched, your eyes open to Damian looming over you. “What’s wrong, Damian? Are you okay, need something?” More worried than anything, you quickly get up. He never was this attentive towards you. Though, Damian was the one you talked to the most.

“Nothing. Just confirming things, L/N” You were too tired to comprehend what he was trying to say. Rubbing your face, you force yourself to the bathroom, which was also shared with Damian. He follows you in, watching you brush your teeth. You roll your eyes.

“I’m doing my regular morning routine like always, Damian. You’ve got to get ready too.” Pointing to his body with your toothbrush, which was still in pajamas. He clicks his tongue in annoyance but follows your orders.

Stepping out of the car, you thank Alfred for the daily rides to school. Tim was off before you could catch up or talk. You sigh.

Gotham City High school. Something happens here at least once a week. You don’t really talk to anyone like Tim does. Your mind was busy a lot and people couldn’t understand or want to wait. When you first were settling into the Wayne household, you remember Damian being upset with you because you were zoning out. It's happened more than you can count with regular people. It also seemed like people knew something was different about you.

During math, your body starts to feel weak. You could sense Tim staring like how Damian was yesterday, like he was assessing you. You stare down at the worksheet, trying to focus. Touching your face, you try to calm down. That burning feeling creeps up in your stomach again. Having no choice, you decide to go to the bathroom. One rule you had was to never throw up the mold at school. Anyone could come in at any moment and hear you. You slip toward the back doors of the school and open them slightly, just enough to see the grassy plains of the field. From your hands, you release your mold onto the grass. It turns black and crumbles into the air. It horrifies you everytime. If you could've, you would have preferred throwing it up for this reason.

You were running back to class, realizing you were taking longer than what a normal bathroom break would be. “L/N.” Before you could open your mouth, you were redirected by the teacher. You slide the bathroom pass back with irritation and grab your things. It was not the first time you had to attend detention for your tardiness. Sometimes you were glad Bruce didn’t notice your slip-ups, he would be up your ass.

You took as long as you could to the classroom. Touching the cold lockers as you went by, looking at posters and ignoring people passing.

“Again, L/N?” The supervisor hands you a reflection form for you to fill out. You were running out of excuses to write on them. Sighing, you decide to just sleep and not fill it out.

“L/N?” You raise your head up slowly, waiting for you to be scolded. “L/N!” You whip your head toward the voice of the supervisor. She looked frightened. What had her yelling? Feeling a hand grab your neck, you immediately push the person off of you with your elbows. They fall to the floor with a grunt.

“Fuck!” You yell out. The Scarecrow. He looked worse in person. “Sorry.” You stop in your tracks. Why were you apologizing to this man? He grabs your leg and brings you down with him. The supervisor runs out while the Scarecrow is distracted with you. Screaming from the halls leaks into the room. “What did you do?” He laughs and ties your arms behind your back.

He leads you to a getaway car which has one student already inside. Students and teachers were all yelling and screaming at the air. Scarecrow must’ve released fear toxin into the school. Did Tim also inhale the fumes? Was he okay? Did Scarecrow know you were of relation to Bruce Wayne? He shoves you aggressively in and gets in himself. The girl next to you was crying her eyes out, snot drooping down into her mouth. “Do I frighten you?” He asks. He laughs quietly from your silence and the girl’s loud sobbing. “I’m conducting an experiment, if you will. You two are my constants.” You eyebrow furrow. Constants? Is he going to create a new strain of the fear toxin? You decide to stay quiet but try to comfort the blonde girl next to you as much as you could.

#batfamily #batfam #platonic batfam #platonic batfamily #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #platonic batfamily x reader #platonic batfam x reader #gender neutral reader #re7 #mold for thought #superman #platonic superman x reader

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mstrickster · 3 months

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What's a secret talent that each side of your ships have? Like, is one of them good at card tricks or is secretly a really good artist?

Batfam:

This fandom was very hard because most of these people are super people. Therefore, They are good at a lot of things, it’s kinda apart of the job. The secret part was what threw me.

Jayroy: It may be just me, but I feel like Jason can play an instrument really well. Now I am not talking a guitar or something rock related. I am talking a violin or piano. I say this because It probably had to take a little bit to enroll him in school or in a nearby school. So, I could see him being at home for a little bit and just bored out of his little mind. However, he is a resourceful kid so he soon found the library. And because Wayne Manor is Wayne Manor, they probably have a piano or some other instrument in the library. They’re just that extra. That or Jason was extremely bored home alone and asked Alfred if he could teach him something. So, Alfred taught him to bake and to play the violin. For Roy I feel like his secret talent would be singing. Especially since nobody probably expects it. However, I could just see him singing a lullaby to Lian and just having the best voice. There are only a few people in his life that I’ve ever heard him sing besides her. Jason probably and I could see Dinah also being someone who he sung for. As well as a few members of the Teen Titans. Probably not the guys because they would rag on him, but Donna and Kori would be super sweet about it.

JonDami: This one was a hard one because of Damian. He was very forthcoming with his talents when he entered Bruce's life. I can’t see Damian ever hiding his talents. That is unless it’s something that he thinks his family would shame him for. Especially with Dick and Bruce, Damien really strives for their approval. So, I can’t see him doing things they don’t approve of without hiding them. Now I don’t believe he would ever do anything truly terrible because he is a hero. However, I can see him doing risky things that they wouldn’t approve of. Like he is very good at daredevil activities. So, his hidden talent would probably be an extreme sport or activity. I could see him being a rock climber. One of those climbers that will try to one up themselves all the time. To the point where he’s hanging off a cliff trying to get to the top of a mountain. It isn’t truly dangerous because he does have Superboy on speed dial so to speak. However, Bruce and Dick would be horrified. Jon is hard as well. However, after some thinking I could see his secret talent being something involving speaking. His parents are news reporters, so he is very eloquent. Also, his mother is Lois Lane so I could see him being very good at debating. He would use his reporter skills to dig up information and he would just annihilate his opponent. His mother would be so proud.

Timberkon: For this trio I think they are very multitalented. Mainly because there are three of them. For Bernard, I can see him being a master hustler. He is so good at bluffing and playing dumb. He doesn’t even need someone to support him, he can make do just by playing other people. The funniest thing is no one believes that he is doing it on purpose. For Kon I can see him being a baker. He is being raised by Ma and Pa Kent, so he probably gained those secret family recipes. He got recipes that only Clark, Ma and he knew. He can also taste a dish and tell you what it needs just from taste. For Tim this was a hard one because I don’t think he is the most guarded out of the group. However, after some thought I think he would do really well at gaming. Any kind of gaming. He strikes me as the type of person that can break down a game to its core elements and beat it easily.

Birdflash: I keep hoping these will get easier as I go on however, they just keep getting harder and with that intro let’s talk about Dick. Now he is the oldest child so he is probably very good at a lot of things. However, I am going to base what I think is secret talent is on his upbringing. Due to the fact that he grew up in a circus I feel like his secret talent would be crafting or like resourcefulness. Dick strikes me as the type of person who could MacGyver his way out of any situation. He is quick on his feet and is usually thinking one step ahead. Also given his upbringing he could also be a survivalist. I know this doesn’t make sense in the DCeased universe but that’s what I’m going with. Moving on let’s talk about one of my favorite speedsters. Wally is a hard one because again he doesn't strike me as anyone that would feel the need to hide their talents. Not because he’s overconfident like Damian but more because he just doesn’t see a reason to hide them. However, if he did have one that he wanted to hide I feel like it would be something useful. Therefore, I think his secret talent is sewing. I say this because I feel like his clothes would get ripped and torn and worn down a lot because of how fast he runs. Therefore, he would need to know how to mend them at any given time. I know he has Iris but she’s not always available, so I feel like he had to learn it to just help himself out. That or I could see him knowing how to cobble and fix shoes for the same reason.

StephCass: For Stephanie I feel like this is not so much a hidden talent as it just is unexpected. For me I think her hidden talent is her intelligence. She is probably so much smarter than everybody thinks. Now I say this because first of all her best friend is either Tim or Barbara. Now I’m not saying you have to be smart to have a smart best friend. However, I feel like Tim and Barbara were drawn to her for her quick thinking and smart mind. Also, her father is a super villain, she has to be intelligent to know how to stop him. However, it is a hidden talent because she’s often overshadowed by those that more openly show their intelligence. Despite her upbringing Cass strikes me as a very gentle soul. Therefore, I could see her secret talent being something that is helpful to animals or plants. I would go with gardening. Her skills in seeing things the way she does would be super helpful in plant parenting. She also could find it a nice break from her other more strenuous hobbies. Also, it is cute to imagine Alfred noticing her skills and setting up a little plot for her outside.

The Mighty Ducks:

Banksway: So, I want to start with Charlie. I could see his secret talent being cooking or baking. He probably had to cook a lot as a kid if Casey was taking a night shift. Therefore, I could see him developing his true skill with it. However, it’s not something he really focuses on so people don’t realize that he’s actually good at it. I feel like Adam is the one who’s good at cards. I say this because he probably had to attend a lot of stuffy events growing up. Where his only entertainment would be something small like a deck of cards. I could see him playing with his siblings and just destroying them. He likes to play dumb though, so people don’t think he’s good at all. That is except for poker he cannot play poker to save his life.

Gerreau: Guy is the fashion expert of the group. He has a way of putting together outfits that are just so perfect. He strikes me as a person to be able to look at somebody and knowing the event they are attending and find the perfect outfit in no time flat. In fact, in the future, he probably is Connie’s stylist because he’s just that good. Connie strikes me as somebody who is very good at a lot of things. So, I could see her hidden talent being something that she is able to use to benefit herself. Therefore I would say it's probably either public speaking or speed reading. We know she goes on to be a senator and both of these would extremely benefit her job.

Tammy/Fulton: Fulton strikes me as a craftsman. Like he likes to work with his hands. He is probably very good at making things from furniture to like little knickknacks. Like I could see him having a workshop at home where he works on his construction layouts as well as other projects. For Tammy I feel like she would be very good in a fight. Like she strikes me as somebody who understands how her body moves and could take down somebody twice her size. Like you want her on your side in a bar fight.

Wudoza: This is another one that was hard to think about. I could honestly see Kenny being the one who can do magic tricks. He strikes me as kind of an only child and my headcanon is he actually lives with his grandparents. Therefore, I could see him picking up magic as something to do when he was bored. It’s also a positive way to fuck with people without the risk of them getting mad at you because it’s magic how can they get mad at you for magic. Now I chose Luis’ hidden talent just because I think it would be funny. Even though he can’t stop I feel like he would be very good at balancing. Like unless he’s directly running into something I feel like he’s very good at keeping himself upright. He could probably also rock a balance beam. Again, I don’t have any backing for this I just think it’s funny.

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prussiacide · 1 year

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nation reps who bake

bc ive been watching the great british baking show recently

ludwig: so i gotta start with the obvious here, hes shown to have quite an interest in baking throughout the series. i love the thought that this intimidating muscular tough-looking guy is actually a big softie who loves baking streuseltaler and torten and krapfen… i would think he would be most either when overwhelmed by work (as a way to chill in his free time) or right before another nation rep visits his capital for a meeting or something. like arthur, kiku, or alfred or whoever travel over to discuss world relations and trade or whatever tf, but before they start talking ludwig offers them a slice of cake and says in his serious business meeting voice that he made it for this occasion

roderich: another obvious one, as he too is seen baking at different points and it seems to be one of his favorite hobbies/activities along with music. he’s not very affectionate to those he cares about, but i would imagine those close to him (erzsi, feli, ludwig, even gilbert) can see his care through the amount of baked goods he offers them when they visit his house. he probably is also one of, if not the best, baker out of all of the nations reps, as austria is known for its incredible pastries and sweets (strudel, kaiserschmarrn, various torten, etc). yeah, so [insert meme about after u visit grandmas house and you’ve gained 10 lbs]

i know this one’s gonna be controversial, but arthur: there’s something alfred mentions in an episode where he says something about arthur serving him scones, so u know what? my hc is that arthur may not be very good at baking, but he still does it, just as a new skill to learn

francis: a country with such delicious and world famous pastries has got to be included on this list. he doesn’t always bake, and its not as important to him as it is to, say, ludwig and roderich, but he still bakes, esp when he knows alfred and matthew are visiting, or when he has foreigner visitors who he wants to impress with his crêpes, macarons, and éclairs. he also esp enjoys baking mille-feuilles (my personal fav french pastry lmao) and at christmas (which he celebrates with arthur, alfred, and matthew) bûche de noël

kiku: in the latest season we saw that kiku likes baking with ludwig. i imagine that he’s only recently been learning to bake as a relaxation technique. he bakes japanese sweets and pastries, like mochi, dango, and those delicious japanese matcha rolls, but bc of his friendships with alfred ludwig and feliciano, he’s also tried backing apple pie, strudel, and tiramisú (and they have all been impressed by his efforts)

#hetalia #hws japan #hws france #hws germany #hws austria #hws england #theres probably more thay im forgetting #i might make one of these for whos good at cooking

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historia-vitae-magistras · 5 months

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🎮 🎻 🚫 🍔 for my north american trio

🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your OC's favourite hobbies?

Mari - I've always had a very enlightenment-era baby intellectual bent to her. So, reading and participating in literary culture and criticism over time returned to Juana Inés de la Cruz. There's a mix of her old-school education and folk culture in her love and talent for art. She's got a real knack for beekeeping, too.

Alfred - Lives and dies by his love of math and engineering; he was getting twitchy with the lack of Calculus right before Isaac Newton got on that shit finally, so he became an eternal tinkerer. He loves a good drive and a sky-watching session.

Matt - Woodworking, gardening, hiking.

🎻 VIOLIN — does your oc play any instruments? What is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)?

In childhood, Maria played the vihuela and baroque guitar and later picked up the bajo de uña and the resulting base guitar. I don't know why I associate her with a drumset, but I like that mental image for some reason, too. She's excellent on all of them.

Alfred is one of those types who skipped from hobby to hobby to hobby as a child and has picked up practically every instrument at some point or another. He played the fucking church organ sometimes, especially when he was feeling weird about religion.

Matt - He's pretty goddamn good on a fiddle, and he can hold a tune, but most of his music is meant for some type of work and the folk scenes are pretty disparate so it's kind of hard to nail down a specifically Canadian musical instrument that hasn't been by and large surpassed by the US.

🚫 PROHIBITED — does your oc drink/smoke? Do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?

Mari - She does mostly beer with some harder alcohol, I think. Not very high consumption; she strikes me as more of a social drinker on special occasions. She can party, but I think she has some pretty hard limits on anything more than the very mainstream.

Alfred - He flies between teetotaller and binge drinker, like that with most things. He can go years with just drinking, but my man likes his stimulants, alas. But the very functional kind. He can

Matt - He would rather not be sober in general.

🍔 HAMBURGER — is your oc good at cooking? are they good at baking? Which one do they prefer?

Mari is pretty good at both but doesn't do it as much as people might think. She's been a very urbanized society for a very long time and various kinds of communal cooking. She knows the best places for Pescado a la talla or who makes the best tlacoyos in the tianguis nearest her primary home but all over the place. I don't know if she'd prefer one or the other. A thought I had is that some of her best cooking exploits are for herself. She participates in a communal culture where cooking and baking are the realm of women in many ways, so being alone in the kitchen and experimenting with her own arroz con leche or barbacoa varieties is an almost self-care ritual she holds.

Alfred - Def more of a cook than a baker. He can bake when he wants to; it's just following the steps of a recipe, but he could be more motivated by domestic things for their own sake. He will cook and bake when people are over, and people are often surprised at the quality of what makes it onto the table. He can eat seven-layer salad and jello monstrosities at a Southern or Midwest table or pull out a Napa Valley salad and wine pairing much to the ire of the old world. Food is one of the few things his hyper-individualism has yet to completely destroy.

Matt - Surprisingly good baker and cook, but not really anything anyone would write home about. Except maybe bread, he bakes a lot of bread and has had a freakishly high consumption of it since the 18th century, so archeologists can tell the bones from the New Englanders who ate a lot more corn. Not exactly internationally renowned for anything except poutine and weed scones, though, rest in pieces. If you've ever eaten anything you thought was pretty good at the time but will never ever think about again, that's Matt in the kitchen, except when he busts out the rye bread but even then no one will really believe he made it.

Character Details Ask Game

#the ask box || probis pateo #Maria || lo que viví lo estoy muriendo todavía #Alfred || o beautiful for spacious skies #Matthew || my country is winter

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call-me-strega · 3 months

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Potential Contestants for the Inter-Dimensional Bake-Off

My inter-dimensional bake-off prompt has got a lot of attention so here is a rough draft list of people I thought might be good (or funny) choices as potential contestants for the bake-off:

Alfred Pennyworth (DC Comics)

Lunch Lady (Danny Phantom)

Mr + Mrs Cake (My Little Pony)

Gary Prince (Fiona and Cake/Adventure Time)

Dylan B. Hollis (real life-YouTube/TikTok)

Brock and/or Cilan and/or Mallow (Pokémon anime)

Molly Weasley (Harry Potter)

Ice Bear (We Bare Bears)

Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng (Miraculous Ladybug)

Sanji (One Piece)

Brie Malik and/or Heath Nguyen (Gormet Hound webcomic)

Tiana (The Princess and the Frog)

Peeta Mellark (The Hunger Games)

This is in no way a final list. I also don’t know how many people I would or would not be including if I wrote this, but they are all of the people I have been able to think of so far that are good at baking. If anyone has any suggestions please let me know.

#dc x dp #alfred pennyworth #danny phantom #interdimensional bake-off #to celebrate Danny’s coronation #ghost king danny #alfred is a good baker #crossover #who should be included?#fictional bakers #or reals ones but they gotta be talented and/or funny #taking suggestions

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koolkat9 · 5 days

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Birthday Fic

Rating: T

Relationship: England + Wales + Canada + America

Word Count: 968

Read on AO3

Five to Twenty-Five

“What are you doing, Uncle Dylan?”

A voice as soft and sweet as the buttercream he was currently mixing called. Two blue eyes with flecks of purple peeked out of the left side of the doorframe.

“Oh, Matthew!“ Just in time,” Dylan beamed. “I’m making your father's favourite cake for his birthday, and I could use a taste tester.”

The eyes lit up. "Really?"

Dylan giggled. “Of course! Now come, come.”

He scooped some of the frosting on the spoon and brought it down to Matthew. The boy took a cautious lick. He let out an excited ‘mmm’ before cleaning the spoon of the white, fluffy goodness.

“I take it I did a good job?”

Matthew nodded eagerly.

Dylan put the bowl to the side and checked on the cake in the oven. Matthew crept closer, trying to catch a peek.

“Can I help?” Matthew asked.

“ Well…Unfortunately, the cake is almost done.”

Matthew’s face fell, head hanging low.

“But, you can help me with the icing,” Dylan quickly added, crouching down to be at the boy’s level.

“Okay!”

Dylan picked Matthew up to wash his hands before setting up a stepping stool, so he could reach the counter. Matthew eyed the bowl of buttercream next to him, little fingers crawling over to it.

“Ah ah ah,” Dylan tisked, though there was a playful smile on his lips. “You’ll get a belly ache, and we may not have enough to finish Dad’s cake.”

Matthew curled back.

“But perhaps you can lick the spatulas when we’re done,” Dylan suggested, booping Matthew’s nose.

He turned back to the oven and checked on the cake. Deeming it cooked, he pulled it out and brought it over to the counter. “Now we have to get going if we want to finish before your father gets back.”

Matthew grabbed a nearby spatula and straightened up like some soldier baker. Dylan couldn’t help but laugh, grabbing his own spatula and taking a similar stance.

— — —

When Arthur returned home with Alfred from a morning of grocery shopping he heard giggling and shushing in the kitchen. Alfred had already scurried upstairs to collect his favourite stuffed animal he had forgotten to grab for their trip, leaving Arthur to investigate alone.

Dylan and Matthew were hunched over the counter, Dylan with a finger to his lips, smiling at a grinning, giggling Matthew.

Arthur leaned on the door frame, smirking to himself. “And what are you two up to?”

“Nothing,” they quickly said in unison.

They turned to Arthur, straightening up but still concealing the counter. Arthur squinted.

“Where’s Alfred?” Dylan asked.

“Upstairs. He forgot Barnaby.”

“Ah.”

“But really,” Arthur went on, “What are you planning? Corrupting my innocent, gentle Matthew?”

Dylan gave a dramatic scoff. “I would never. But you’ll see when Alfred comes down.”

“Fine…”

Moments later, Alfred came bouncing in, his bunny stuffed animal squeezed under his armpit. He only froze mid-way into the kitchen to sniff.

“Something smells good,” he exclaimed, looking around to find the source.

Matthew looked over to Dylan who nodded. The two pulled away to reveal the cake, now covered in pale green icing with frosted white roses along the edge. In the center, sat one of those candle signs reading: We stopped counting. Surely Dylan’s choice despite being the eldest brother.

“Happy birthday!” Matthew cheered, running to Arthur. Arthur scooped the boy up, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured.

“You made a cake without me?” Alfred whined, approaching Dylan.

“You wanted to go grocery shopping with your dad,” Dylan tutted, ruffling Alfred’s hair. “But you can still help us eat it. First though…”

He looked over to Arthur, who was trying to hide a growing grin. Dylan rummaged through the drawer for a lighter and lit the three wicks of the candle. Stepping away, he pulled Alfred with him to give room for Arthur.

With Matthew still in his arms, Arthur leaned down and blew out the candles. When he was done, Matthew hugged him tightly. Dylan and Alfred joined him in shouting ‘Happy birthday’ once more.

“Now, time for cake!” Alfred demanded, running back to the counter. He tried to swipe a bit of icing, but Dylan quickly grabbed the cake first.

“Alfred,” Arthur barked, “You were so good this morning. Don’t start acting up now. Patience.”

Alfred pouted, wandering to the corner with crossed arms. But it wasn’t long before he was rushing back over to get a piece when the cake was finally cut.

“That boy and his moods,” Arthur huffed, taking a bite of his cake.

“Just like his daddy,” Dylan teased, pinching his baby brother’s cheek.

“Quit it!” Arthur waved the hand away.

They watched the two boys eat their cake and Alfred telling Matthew all about the harrowing tale of his trip to the grocery store.

“I still remember when you were five,” Dylan mused. “Always following me around, wanting to play wizards or fairies. And now you’re twenty-five.”

“Please don’t get sentimental on me,” Arthur groaned.

Dylan only laughed, ruffling Arthur’s hair like he did when they were kids. Arthur growled in annoyance, fluffing up his hair into its proper mess.

“Thank you, for all of this,” Arthur whispered.

“It’s what brothers do.” A wide smile spread across Dylan’s face, wrapping an arm around Arthur. “But I can’t take all the credit. Matthew did help me get the icing done in time.”

“Well, remind me to thank him later.”

The two turned back to the boys. Alfred was now a mess of green and white icing, and Matthew was trying not to laugh at him. Arthur sighed.

“I got it,” Dylan intervened, already grabbing some paper towels. “You go get some more cake.”

Arthur gave a thankful smile before cutting himself some more cake.

#hetalia #hws #hws canada #hws wales #hws england #hws america #ace family #na bros #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #my writing #birthday fic

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lingerasthesmokeoncedid · 1 year

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peace on earth, goodwill to (bat)man

pairing: bruce wayne/reader

summary: It's Christmas Eve at Wayne Enterprises, and no one wants to be alone.

wc: 1.5k

genre: quiet holiday romance

warnings: none

When You First Took My Hand (on a Cold Christmas eve)

“Merry Christmas Eve, Mr. Wayne. Leaving for the office?”

At the sound of Alfred’s offhand voice, Bruce paused tiptoeing across his kitchen, caught like a teenager sneaking out after curfew.

Ever since he’d started this Batman thing a few years ago, every December 24th had been the same - and every subsequent year, Bruce thought he would be able to beat the old man. To sneak out of the house before he had a chance to castigate him for choosing vigilantism over holiday cheer.

“Yeah,” Bruce said, wincing. “Have to make an appearance. Give out the bonuses. Looks like Lucius has roped me into judging some cookie swap or something, too.”

Alfred raised one eyebrow, the gesture shifting the festive Santa hat currently positioned atop his head. An uncommonly jolly accessory for the old man, clearly employed to make Bruce feel worse. “And you’ll be home for dinner eight, yes?”

“You know I won’t be. Don’t do this again this year, okay?”

As a kid, Bruce and Alfred spent every Christmas Eve together. It was tradition, a way for Bruce to feel like he had a family for at least a few hours every holiday season. But now, as an adult, Bruce had more pressing matters to attend to - even on Christmas. A fact Alfred hated.

“The city doesn’t need a Batman tonight,” Alfred said.

“Yes. They do. Come on, Alfred. Don’t look so grim. It’s Christmas.”

It was more of a plea than a wish. Alfred would hear neither.

The old man closed his newspaper. “Mh-hm. And my dearest wish is that one day, Santa will bring you someone who makes your life worth actually living.”

Bruce did his best not to dwell on Alfred’s Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come act. That day, he focused his energies on smiling and glad-handing and being the consummate billionaire guy-about-town - flashing his money around and trying to be charming and everything he really wasn’t.

But like a catchy Christmas song, Alfred’s words were caught in Bruce’s head. Infuriatingly, it made him see the entire holiday season in an entirely new light. Gotham looked surprisingly beautiful this time of year, he noticed. The grime and the slog gave way to twinkling lights and fresh snow. The offices of Wayne Enterprises, too, bustled with unreasonably happy employees. When he judged the cookie swap (a competition that had a one-thousand dollar bonus on the line) that afternoon, for example, he saw one secretary crying about dropping her cookies on the way to the office — only for her desk-mate to offer her cookies as a replacement entry.

Those cookies won. And the original baker never asked for a cent of the thousand dollars, nor did she take credit for their creation.

For the first time, Bruce actually….well, he wouldn’t say he enjoyed coming in to work this year, but it did fill him with a certain amount of hope that he’d been missing. He noticed the little things today, the kindness and goodness that he often missed when prowling the city for trouble.

However, when five o’clock rolled around and the staff scrambled out to do the last of their holiday shopping and cooking, Bruce readied himself to shake off the warmth of seasonal cheer. He had real work to do. The city needed him -

It was then that he realized he was not alone on the sixty-eighth floor as he’s originally thought. A fact that made his escape almost impossible.

He couldn’t very well open the door to the alcove hiding his Batsuit with someone working just beyond the glass walls of his office, could he?

So, he waited. Fiddling awkwardly with his computer as the sound of her tinny radio’s Christmas music filled the distant air between them. He found his attention drifting from the police blotter website to her often — not because she was beautiful, he told himself, and not even because she was the one who’d loaned her winning cookies to her unlucky coworker. But because she was an obstacle to him beginning his night of protecting Gotham.

Yeah. That was it. Nothing else.

And when, around eight o’clock, she brought a Christmas mug to her mouth, drawing Bruce’s attention to her soft lips, he decided he’d had enough of this for one night.

The city needed him to defend it — not to moon over some woman who might as well have not known he was on the same planet as her, much less on the same floor of Wayne Enterprises.

Throwing on his coat and his scarf, he left the relative privacy of his executive suite and strode towards her desk — ready to give her a firm season’s greeting and not-so-subtly indicate that she should go back home to spend it with her family.

However…

He hadn’t counted on her smile. When she saw him coming, her entire face lit up, and she lowered the volume on her radio so she could greet him properly. It wasn’t one of those fake smiles people often gave him — the kind that told him they were very happy to see his money and basically disinterested in him himself. It was the real thing.

Nothing could have shocked him more. Bruce was so used to people shuffle away when he approached as their boss or bow and scrape when he was their customer. Batman was so used to seeing people scream in horror and run away at the sight of him.

But there she was. A woman in a ridiculous sweater. Smiling up at him as though they were old friends finally reunited for Christmas.

“Happy Holidays, Mr. Wayne. Heading home for the night?”

“I,” he said, clearing his throat when the word faltered, “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

“Me? No, not going home. I’ve got, just, a ton of work to do.”

“Likewise.”

Awkward silence filled only with the sound of Darlene Love singing Baby, Please Come Home followed then. Bruce didn’t know what to say. He had been so sure that his presence alone would be enough to drive her away. Most people in this building — hell, in this city — found him unbearable to be near. His social skills were non-existent and his the overwhelming sadness of his universally known life story made people flee him as quickly as they could.

Not her. She, actually, leaned in to his presence.

“Uh, but while you’re here…” She dug under her desk and retrieved an old sewing tin, which she handed to him. “I made cookies. Would you like some?”

“These survived the cookie swap after all?”

“No. I made these for you, actually.”

The cap on the tin came away easily, and there they were — a dozen individual sugar cookies, haphazardly decorated with both silver and blue and green and red frosting, representing both his mother and his father’s traditions. It wasn’t just Christmas. It was Hanukkah, too, and this near-stranger had remembered that he celebrated both.

Not only was she not running from him, not only was she not uncomfortable being in his presence, but she’d thought of him at the most special time of the year. She’d planned this whole thing so they could share this moment together.

“For…for me?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been working here for three years now. I noticed you always work late on Christmas Eve.”

“I see. You don’t really have any work to do tonight, did you?”

Having called her bluff, he almost smiled down at her. She met his gaze, conceding.

“No, Mr. Wayne.”

The cookies, staying late at the office. It all had to mean something. But what? And why did it make him want to sit across that desk from her and talk until the cookies or the conversation ran out?

“What about your family?” He asked. “Aren’t they missing you?”

“It’s Gotham. You know most of us are alone.” That smile faltered for the briefest of moments, then she recovered. “But I thought maybe this year could be different. For both of us. Even if it’s just in the office.”

From the way her shoulders tensed and her breathing grew slightly erratic, Bruce could tell that this was huge for her — maybe as huge for her to offer as it would be for him to accept.

“Well. That is…” Wonderful. World-shaking. Absolutely baffling. He decided not to say any of that. “It’s just I’m not alone on Christmas.”

She deflated at what she clearly thought was a brush-off. “Oh.”

“My butler, Alfred, is always nagging me to leave this place and spend the holiday with him.”

“I see. That makes sense -“

“But..." He paused. Was he really going to do this?

His hand tightened on the tin of cookies. Such a small gesture to mean the world to him, a lonely kid who hadn't see the soul of this city in a very, very long time. Not until tonight, when she smiled at him and offered him some sugar-snaps.

Yes. Yes, he was doing this.

"But if you'd like to join us, we'd love to have you.”

Her face flushed. “I don’t want to be a nuisance - “

“You wouldn’t be. Actually, I…” He almost chuckled. What would the old man say when Bruce answered his I hope you find someone who makes life worth living remark by doing just that? He wasn’t sure this woman was that person for him. He’d only just met her, after all.

But he had a good feeling. After all, it was at the top of Alfred’s list for Santa, and this time of year was the season of miracles. “I think Alfred has been wishing for something just like this.”

#battinson!bruce wayne x female!reader #bruce wayne/reader #bruce wayne x reader #battinson x oc #battinson imagine

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averytiredhuman · 2 years

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Introduction to Mrs Solomons (Alfie Solomons x F!Reader)

Alfie Solomons sat next to his wife, prettily painted nails tapping against the wooden surface of the table, not many knew this but when it came to business she handled most of the thinking, paperwork, deals and keeping the men in line, whilst he did the heavy lifting and footwork, keeping the shipments from being tracked, stolen, or intercepted, he made it seem as if he was the one who ran everything, she wanted it that way, ever since the war she took over the company, kept it in tip-top shape, better than he ever could, so he kept it that way, out of town coppers would not think twice of a lady running a bakery that her husband owns, and she had the flour dusted cheeks look down to perfection, for when the cops come knocking, at this moment it was a meeting with one Thomas Shelby that had the woman emerge from the bakery. “Mr Solomons, it’s good to meet you.” Alfie did not stand to meet the man’s stretched-out hand, nor did he find him ignoring his wife favourable, “I will be the one you talk to regarding business, Mr Shelby.” Her voice held an air of danger, Tommy could feel the air around him move, he felt as if he was back digging holes as if the roof would cave in around him. “My apologies, I thought Mr Solomons was the head of this organization.” She leans forward, and Tommy leans back, “We like to keep it that way, Mr Shelby, we don’t promote my position other than me being Alfie’s wife and the baker.” She gives him a smile, leaning back into her chair. “How is it that we can help you, Mr Shelby.”

Alfie grunts as he lifts a rum barrel, slamming it down next to another, “Alfie, my love, breaking our stock will not help your anger.” She sat on a different barrel opposite his little tantrum, the bakery empty, as she sent everyone home for the day. “I don’t like that man, my pet, he is disrespectful, him and his brothers.” She hums in agreement, sliding off of the barrel she swayed her way towards him, her hand sliding from his far left shoulder to his chest, “Then show him our ways my love, invite the eldest Shelby brother to pass over, I do believe the custom we have will bring them great understanding when it comes to respecting.” Alfie began laughing, he turned to wrap his arms around her torso, “This is why you are the brains of this family, pet, you just know what we need.” She smiles, her lips press against his cheek, “I know, love, besides we don’t need their sway, but for now we need them, Sabini is breathing down our necks and he still believe you to be solely in charge, should shoot the Italian git for it, but we have to try and make peace, otherwise, our Italian rum won’t have that nice little kick it should.” She turns around, “Now, please get ready, I really want to see that new art exhibit that opened.” Alfie smiles, his eyes following her retreating form “Anything for you my pet, and I mean anything.”

“Fill it out, fuck off.” The process of integrating the Shelby men into the Solomons men became a headache for both Alfie and his wife, “Name” Alfie repeats, “Billy Kitchen.” Alfie nods, making a little check next to his name, “Occupation.” Billy Kitchen’s lip quirks up, catching her attention, she slips her gun from the holster strapped to her thigh, “Head baker.” Before Alfie could say anything, the cool metal pressed delicately against Kitchen’s head, “I’m sorry, that position has been filled, find another one.” Her voice had that same air of danger, her eyes following the hair on his neck as they stood up. “Baker.” She moved back “Good lad.” Alfie nods, grabbing the folded papers and tossing them towards the large man, “Fill it out, fuck off.” Alfie grunts, as Ollie harshly tosses an apron at the man, “Well done, pet.” Her eyes flitted over to him, her head bobbed once, “Get this over with Alfred, I don’t like the smell of Birmingham in my bakery.”

The quivering kid who sat in front of Mrs Solomons had no idea what would become of him, his mind flashes images of his family in Birmingham, “A loaf of brown bread disappeared from your section child.” Although her voice sounded calm, the kid knew better, Polly had the same type of voice, only when Polly was mad, she at least looked feral. This lady, on the other hand, looked like a mother scolding her child for gripping a cookie from the jar. “Now, what do you have to say for yourself?” The kid began to stutter an excuse, but a delicate hand stopped him, “You will be going home tonight, I do hope all affairs are in order back there.” The nodding of his head made her stand up, gripping the boy by his shoulder as she dragged him out to the bakery floor. “Gentlemen, please can I have your attention.” Everyone turns to look at her, Alfie included. “This young man stole a loaf of brown bread, now please don’t mistake me or my husband for fools, I don’t like being underestimated or mistaken, so let this be a lesson to those who are new.” Her hand dropped the material of his shirt, only to grab the gun from its place on her thigh, “Shelby boys, please keep this little information in mind next time you’d like a little fun.” Her finger pushes down on the trigger, releasing the metal of the bullet from the chamber of the gun into the skull of the young man next to her, “I don’t like thieves, and I really am more mental than my husband.”

Arthur Shelby and Tommy Shelby, both stood in front of Mrs Solomons, a crazed look in their eyes, “Before you open your mouths to berate me for ending that boy’s life,” She stood up, Alfie was soon to follow her, “You sent them, you must have known who had sticky fingers.” She turns her head to Alfie, “Did the gypsy think we won’t catch a thief?” He smiles, her tactic of ignoring the men who stood in front of her, made her seem so vulnerable, but it is quite the opposite, she was so dangerous. “We had no idea that Phil had a pension for thievery,” her head slowly turns from her husband to the Shelby brothers, “I’m going to enjoy watching you burn Thomas, lie to me again and I will end this deal, partner with the Italians and make your little shit hole town an actual hole, do you understand me.” It was not a question, and the crazed look in her eyes allowed both men to step back one pace, that was the look of the men in the trenches, crazy and out of their minds, “I believe our time has come to an end, find your way out of this building before I find it for you.” They bid a silent goodbye and subtly made their way out of the room and out of the brick building. “I really don’t like this.”

The next time Mrs Solomons saw the eldest Shelby brother he and two others came to what they believed to be a Passover dinner, she had made fresh bread and sat at the end of the table, waiting for the men to arrive, “Such a shame really,” She mutters as she breaks the bread in two, handing one half to Ollie who stood next to her, “What is, ma’am?” She grins at the man next to her, “Alfie will be in a mood all night after this, and we made dinner plans.” He laughs, knowing full well that if one person can get Alfred Solomons out of any ‘mood’ that he is in, it will be his darling wife. Arthur had arrived, giving Alfie a gift, it almost made the woman sad for what was to come, almost. But, this needed to happen, she did not like the Shelbys and she’ll be damned if the Sabinis know of their plans to turn against them.

#alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinder imagine #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fanfic #alfie solomons

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