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laalaaliaa · 1 year

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Hello! Can I pls request a titans! Dick x reader? They're in a romantic relationship btw

Idea/prompt: You have been dating dick for about 8 months and it has been amazing so far. But lately, you've been feeling more insecure about yourself and your relationship. You've always known about all of dicks past relationships but youve never thought anything of it. But lately, you've been thinking about it and you've come to the realization that all of his exes were much better than you.

Dick can't help but notice the way you've been distancing yourself and he feels as if he's done something wrong to make you upset. But after almost a week of this, he gets frustrated and decides to confront you. When you were both getting ready to go to sleep, he cornered you and asked you what was wrong and why you've been avoiding him.

At first, you try to ignore him and say that you need to get some rest, but you eventually give in and explain everything to him. He feels horrible, how hadn't he noticed before? He comforted you and cuddles your worries away.

Have a good day!

Leaden Insecurities

in which your insecurities start to show…

dick grayson x fem!reader

warnings: the tiniest bit of angst, but fluffy towards the end

proofread? nope

i’m such a bad liar! i said i’d be back, but once school started up again, i began to feel stressed, but i reallyyy do hope you enjoy, i also changed it up a bit, hope you don’t mind <33

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Galas are such a bore. Perhaps it was because you stuck out like a sore thumb. For the sake of your lover you attended, and possibly because of the appetizers Alfred always had laid out. You felt self-conscious, fear tantalizing you as you weaved your way through crowds of snobby rich people. You felt so warm, your skin hot to the touch, but only so much air could cool you down. As you waltzed your way towards one of the openings towards the garden, you stumbled at the feeling of someone bumping into your back.

The both of you muttered apologies, sympathetic smiles filled with faux intentions before you finally caught a glance of one another. Barbra Gordon. A red-headed beauty who you knew somewhat well. “I’m sorry Y/N.” She let out weakly, a genuine smile on her face as she held your forearm affectionately. You only shook your head, a slight relief from not possibly bumping into one of Gotham’s finest. “It’s fine Barbra, I’m actually happy to actually be in the vicinity of someone I know,” You joked lightly, causing her to laugh in agreement.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, a person, who you both knew in and out was staring at you two tensely. It wasn’t a secret that Barbra and Dick had been together. You actually befriended Dick whilst they were still in a relationship. Once they’re relationship went to shit, the two of you took the opportunity to possibly strike one up, and in both your favors, it worked. “Careful Grayson, Barbra might just turn her on you.” Dick heard Jason jab playfully. Dick might’ve laughed if the situation was different, but he didn’t. Instead he watched from afar as your entire conversation unfolded.

“So what’re you doing here?” Barbra questioned, her head tilting slightly as she stirred her champagne glass cooly. “I’m here with Dick actually.” You meekly replied, slyly glancing behind her to catch sight of him already looking at you. You turned your attention back to Barbra, watching the way her face conformed in realization. Suddenly the air became tense, as Barbra spoke, “Wow, I’m actually surprised you’re still together.” Your brows furrowed slightly at her shady comment, but you could only laugh awkwardly.

“What does that mean?” You pressed, your tone light, in hopes she wouldn’t detect the hostility her statement arose in you. She only shrugged, lifting the glass to her cherry covered lips as she took a long sip. Once she pulled the glass away, her reply shocked you. “Well it just seems like he has a type.” You scoffed lightly, an offended expression upon your face as you leaned back slightly. “What are you getting at?” She shrugged once more, her action irritating you before she spoke, “You’ll see the signs eventually,” And with that she left with a squeeze to your shoulder, which ultimately felt like her touch burned you.

He has a type? You couldn’t help but ponder on that question, the conversation you two shared stuck in your head on repeat. It’s been almost a week since the gala, and since then, you couldn’t help but shelter yourself. You built a brick wall, the fear of Barbra being right causing your heart to hurt a little. You knew Dick wasn’t clueless, he was a detective for crying out loud, but he was also your boyfriend, and with that title, came him knowing when something was wrong.

He knew something was wrong the minute you left Bruce’s home, the way you shifted your body towards the window in the car, the way you didn’t rest your hand atop his as he drove the two of you home, and the way you went to bed that night, without giving him a good night kiss. Your days blended together that way, a painfully cruel reminder that you were just a bland and simple girl. Basic. Dick Grayson could do better.

Damn you Barbra.

Night time became a comforting bliss, the darkness of the sky and the brightness of the moon was beautiful. Especially when you laid sprawled out on the couch, street light and moon light meshed together as it splayed across your skin through the sheer curtains. With a frazzled mind, you hoped a book could keep it occupied, yet your eyes kept skimming over the same sentence. The irony of the words making you want to laugh

quiet down i begged my mind

your overthinking is

robbing us of joy

Rupi Kaur was too relatable for your liking. With a quiet sigh you set down the book, lazily guiding your attention to a random talk show on the tv. You waited impatiently, waiting for the moment the squeaky door would creak open, forcing you to put that wall back up. You waited, and waited, until eventually you forgot about the existence of your beloved boyfriend. Too engrossed in a re-run of the bachelor, you failed to notice the door open.

It wasn’t until Dick leaned over the back of the couch, pressing a feathered kiss to your hair, causing you to tense. “How was your day?” He asked, making his way towards the kitchen and out of your sight. You gave him the same response you’d been giving him the last few days, “It’s been good babe.” He hummed at that, returning back to you with a water bottle in hand. “Are you sure?” You leaned into his side, giving him a nod of assurance. It was silent after that, and you couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip anxiously.

You glanced at him, his head tilted back as he let out a distressed sigh. You hated knowing that a few little words could cause a riff in your relationship, but you couldn’t help it. You knew Dick was the sweetest soul on earth, his kindness and compassion making him hard to resist, yet knowing that he chose you of all people made you question everything. “Y/N,” He started, leaning forward onto his knees. “Talk to me baby, I can’t stand..,” He waved his hands around with a pained expression, “This.”

You looked at him naively, head tilted as you grasped his hand. “Dick what are you talking about? I’m fine, see.” You gestured to yourself, a smile on your face as you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. He was silent after that, mumbling a weak agreement as he sunk back into the couch, an arm wrapped atop your shoulder. You two spent a mere hour like that, before the darkness of the night made you woozy with sleep, prompting the two of you to turn in for the night.

You silently washed your face, the sound of the water in the shower distracting your racing thoughts. It was only when you heard it turn off that your thoughts seemed to race back into your head. Although you were silent, face void of any emotion as you applied lotion to your skin. Kori had lovely skin. You wanted to punch yourself, however with Dick half naked with a towel around his lower waist you could hopefully bury your mind with different thoughts. You left the bathroom, humid air and the smell of his coconut-hibiscus shampoo making your mind go under.

You settled into the bed first, silent as he slipped on a pair of boxers and his favorite pair of sleeping pants. Instead of getting in like he normally did, you were surprised that he only sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands as he let out a tired breath. “Y/N,” Your body seemed to go tense at the seriousness of his tone, making you pull he blanket up higher for him to get the idea of possibly going to sleep. “Yes babe.” He stood from the edge, making his way by your legs before sitting down, the sight of his chest glimmering slightly from the lotion you bought him making you want to curse yourself.

dirty minded bit-

“We need to talk.” He spoke solemnly, breaking you from your thoughts as your throat went dry. You knew it was coming eventually. Barbra was right, you were so-“I’m worried about you babe.” Wrong. You were so wrong? He seemed to notice you confusion, making him chuckle lightly, before he grew serious once more. “I’m just tired, like super tired, I woke up earlier than I normally do.” You reassured, even going as far as rubbing your eyes when you knew you were lying some what. “Did I do something?” He questioned weakly, making your slumped form perk up slightly. “No I—no baby, it’s not you. Well it is you, but,” You cut yourself off, laughing weakly as you head fell sourly.

“It’s silly.” “Clearly not if it’s making my girlfriend a completely different person. Talk to me baby.” You knew it was now or never, you’d either receive the answer you were looking for, or be dumped onto the streets just like Barbra had implied. “Why me?” The question was so short, sweet and simple, yet there was a multitude of answers you could’ve gotten, making your heart race slightly at his silence. “Why you.” He restated, making you nod weakly. “Baby, you have my heart, mind, and soul in the palm of your hand,” He started, his hand slipping into yours comfortingly. “And it hurts knowing that, you feel insecure in why I wanna be with you. Y/N, you’re amazing, you’re you, and I hate the fact that you don’t see yourself the way I do.”

You felt the sudden urge to bite your lip, a possible stream of tears soon to erupt, but you couldn’t. You stared at him with such a loving expression in your eyes, and he couldn’t help but fall for you more. “You’re no superhero, and I’m glad, they’re all copy and paste anyways, I mean look at ‘Gymnastics man’ I—ow babe I’m serious.” He finished, holding his shoulder with a genuine smile as he rubbed the spot you hit playfully. “His back handsprings are killer.” He joked, making you laugh for the first time in days. He smiled at that. “In all seriousness, I don’t care that you can’t fly, or shoot lasers—although that’d be pretty cool- right sorry, not the point,” He began once more, his hands held up in surrender at the sight of your glare.

“However, you’re Y/N, a pretty cool chick who’s not afraid of anything, except for maybe spiders, and haunted houses. Not the point again, but I love you for you, for all your faults and insecurities. I love you.” He finished, a smile gracing his face as silently watched your expression morph and soon the tears fled. “I hate you.” You cried weakly, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He shushed you, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. “If you hated me, then you wouldn’t have agreed to be my girlfriend 8 months ago.” He had you there. You only rolled your eyes with a sniffle, pulling back as you stared into his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, however if you ever doubt this,” He gestured between the two of you, “You talk to me baby.” You nodded at that, finally pulling his face closer as you gave him a well deserved kiss. The two of you pulled away, your foreheads resting on one another as you smiled at each other. “I love you Y/N L/N.”

“I love you too Dick Grayson.”

It was silent, until Dick had to ruin it

“Can we talk about Gymnastics man copying me?”

“No.”

——————

the end. I hope you enjoyed, and yes i’m terrified of haunted houses.

#dc imagine #dc comics #dick grayson x reader #dc titans #dick grayson imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine

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historia-vitae-magistras · 11 months

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If I remember correctly you said that baby Jack had to be held a lot because he was so clumsy. Would Matt have been big enough to do the same when he first meets him. You could get the family tradition of older siblings carrying their younger ones around everywhere. Let Matt get adorable little germlins to carry.

I did! And I've actually thought about this. The little things that carry from person to person. If Australia is a consequence of the American revolution, he also saw the turn of Matt from younger brother to older brother. What Matt knows about any concept of family, he learned at Alfred's elbow. Peak indulgence for Matt is when it was cold and Matt was small, Alfred would heft him up and carry him places. So picking up Jack? Hell yeah. Jack was very sturdy even for a young child but Matt was in his early teens in the regency era. Wee Jack gave him anxiety. All children are little shits, bouncing off and into mischief and being clumsy but even by that standard Jack is chaotic. Where Matt was a very self contained child who could be put into the corner and given books or blocks or even nothing and he'd occupy himself, Jack is a curious wee thing. He always has questions, he always wants to hear music, he always wants to chat, and play and move. Baby's first labour strike was protesting until the turnspit dog gets friends. He liberated the chicken's Matt's in charge of, let the goats loose and set the parlour on fire because he got bored and tried to figure out how the oil lamps worked. He broke so many priceless antiques that Arthur may or may not have stolen.

In early 19th century Georgian society where childhood is newly important but Jack's still a third rate penal colony at the end of the world, he's kind of miserable and everyone would want to indulge him, stuck half the world away from everything and everyone he's ever known in the miserable libertine environment that is regency England, It's a strange thing, for Matt to be a brother again, much less with one that will be so briefly this wriggly and adorable before shooting up within a century to end up about 20 kilos bulkier than him.

The image of Matt as his anxious but fairly normal 1805 self popping Jack up onto a hip he doesn't have enough of to keep him there and then doing the same thing in 10 years when he's gone back to setting fire and committing war crimes against Americans is so fitting. Like it doesn't matter what anyone thinks, they're stuck together. Also its so goddamn funny to think of Matt like "I just set the White House on fire, I am not in the mood for children." And Jack and Zee don't give a flying fuck, they have a book for him to read and the aren't leaving him be until he fucken reads it. He's grumpy about it, even though he knows he'll prize those memories long after the relationships themselves have been resigned too history.

#the ask box || probis pateo #jack || a land of summer skies #matthew || my country is winter #zee || ahakoa he iti he pounamu #jack zee and matt || battered bonds once so strong #Jack Zee and Matt || battered bonds once so strong

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ggfj84 · 1 year

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Batfam Week 2023 - Day 1 - Parenthood

“Have you finished your homework yet?” Bruce asked as he sat down across from Dick on the private plane, a teacup and a tablet in his hand.

Rolling his eyes, Dick lifted his legs up on the couch, ankles crossed on the arm. “We literally just stopped gunrunners in Milan, and you want me to work on my pre-calc homework?”

“If you haven’t finished it, yes.”

Dick let out a groan. “Can’t I do it once we’re an hour out of Gotham?”

“Is there a reason you don’t want to start it now?”

“Because it’s boring. I’m never going to use it in real life, and we’re still over France. I have another seven hours before we land in Gotham. I’ll get it done.”

Bruce took a quick sip of his tea. “Let’s do a hypothetical.”

“Let’s not.”

Bruce let out a quick breath. Alfred always said he was a handful at sixteen. “How about I quiz you on the New Jersey Code of Criminal Justice and Motor Vehicle Laws with Related Statutes and Court Rules?”

Dick flipped onto his side with an overeager smile. “Let’s do a hypothetical!”

“I thought you might see it my way.” Bruce allowed himself a small smile in between sips. “Joker snaps a suspension cable on the Sprang Bridge. I need to string Batrope from one tower to the other. How do I find out how much rope to use?”

“Can you just wrap enough rope around it to hold it up until the engineers can get on site?”

“But if I don’t use enough, the forces pulling it taut will snap the rope, too, potentially putting more people at risk.”

“Can’t you just call Superman? Or Martian Manhunter? Or Wonder Woman? Or Flash? Or – ”

“We don’t call our friends unless it’s necessary and there’s no other option,” Bruce countered gently.

Dick furled an eyebrow. “Oh, so there was no option the other day when you called Aquaman to come and wrangle Killer Croc in the sewers?”

Alfred interjected then from the cockpit, “I had just cleaned Batman’s uniform, Master Dick. It would have taken me weeks to get that stench out…again.”

“Right, of course. So what I’m hearing is that pre-calc is necessary in some incidents in the field but not all.”

He couldn’t have been this stubborn, right? “Tell you what, chum. You finish your homework while we’re over the Atlantic, and I’ll start your flying lessons.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Yes!” Dick immediately sat up, pulled his legs underneath him, and went to work.

Bruce retreated to the front of the plane to allow Dick to focus, taking a seat next to Alfred in the cockpit.

“Masterful parenting, Master Bruce,” Alfred said softly. “You’ve learned the art of the bribe.”

“Yes, well, it had the desired effect.”

“Yes, it quite did last week when you called His Royal Majesty. I do appreciate you not going hunting in the sewers, sir.”

“And I appreciate you not going to strike. I need you, Alfred.”

Alfred patted Bruce’s hands, while keeping a hand on the controls. “Glad to be of service, sir.”

The End

#batfamilyweek2023 #bruce wayne #dick grayson #Alfred Pennyworth #batman #robin #batfam #batfamily #bat family #batdad #ggfj84 writes

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underthe-redhood · 1 year

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our last chance

- side note: it's mentioned that the reader is the daughter of bruce and selina, but it's never mentioned that she's biologically related, so you could definitely interpret it as her being adopted by them!

5. out of sparks

- synopsis\\ you watch as dick runs off after batman betrays him for the last time, causing the family to fall apart. after an explosion, and a time machine, with a speedster to help you, you have one last chance to stop history from repeating itself.

• word count: 1,332

• masterlist

as you made it out into the city, you and dick split up. you radioed barbara, “hey, are you already with someone? i don’t wanna be on my own tonight.”

“nope, just me. is something wrong?”

“no, just feeling lonely,” you lied. “where are you?”

“corner of b street,” she said. and so you drove over to where she was. she was sitting on one of the rooftops just staring out at the city lights. you swung up with a grappling hook and sat next to her.

“feels like it’s been forever since we last talked,” you started. it was true for you, but you couldn’t say the same for her.

“we talked this morning,” she laughed. you smiled, it was nice being able to sit down with your family and just talk. no one was guilty, no one was upset, no one was gone. everything was actually okay again.

“how’s the library?” you asked. you didn’t wanna immediately jump into questions about dick. people were already suspicious.

“not bad, it’s as slow as ever. how were your midterms?”

“they went well. i’m not too worried. how were yours?” she was a criminology major at the university.

“they were long, i’m just glad they’re over,” she sighed.

“so am i. besides, now you get to spend extra time with dick,” you leaned into the topic slowly.

“that too,” she said. she didn’t sound excited, the way you thought she would. but she was probably really tired, so you didn’t think much of it. “how about you? is there anyone special you’re hiding?” she grinned.

“no, not really,” how did this get turned on you?

“not even one of the titans or something?” the titans?

“why one of the titans?” you asked. she wasn’t talking about bart, was she? why would she be? you haven’t started to hang out with him at this point in time, and even when you do it’s not like she’s around you much to notice.

“where else would you be around kids your age?” she asks.

“school???” you offer.

she laughs again, “well sure, but they’re kinda boring compared to a teen titan.” she’s got a point there.

talking about relationships is new for you. you’ve never really talked about it with your brothers, and you’ve only ever brought it up once or twice with kate. bruce was totally out of the question, that’s why you got your sex talk from harley. which led to ivy giving you a better explanation. that led to selena trying to step in, but she eventually just sent you to alfred who was always the one to do it.

talking about relationships with barbara was new, but it wasn’t bad. of course, it also led you to an opportunity. and when opportunity strikes, who are you not to take it?

“whenever i do end up in a relationship, i can talk to you about it, right? i mean, you’re in a happy relationship with dick so you’d be able to give me good advice,” it was a bit heavy on implying she was happy, but it was good enough to probe her thoughts.

she didn’t answer immediately like you thought she would. instead, she thought for a moment and said “yeah, i guess i’m pretty happy.”

“you guess?” she must have just worded it strangely. she loved dick, didn’t she? maybe not later on when she did what she did. but back in time where you were, she had to have loved him then?

“i’m happy,” she said. and that was that. but it wasn’t.

————

back at the cave, you and barbara had arrived last. “you took your sweet time,” jason raised an eyebrow.

“we got caught up in talking,” barbara said.

“talking?” he continued.

“believe me, you wouldn’t be interested,” you chimed in and barbara smiled. that was enough for jason to drop the subject and move on. he walked over to tim and the two of them left for the manor. dick walked over and grabbed barbara’s hand, sliding his fingers between hers.

“how are you doing?” he looked like a puppy in love. it was a refreshing sight, not only seeing him again but seeing him happy. a second later, however, your gut was twisting itself again. it was a whole new type of uncomfortable, seeing him so happy and knowing how his life could fall apart so soon. you almost wished not to be there with him.

barbara wasn’t as enthusiastic as him. thinking back, you couldn’t remember if you’d ever picked up on that before. you could remember the early parts of their relationship when they were both starstruck in love. but, you couldn’t remember her like this. it wasn’t a huge shift, which was why you didn’t notice it. it was a change so small that you’d only pick up on it if you were looking out to begin with.

you doubted anyone else had noticed, much less dick himself. you couldn’t tell exactly what the shift in her mood was. maybe a bad day, but then she just seemed so normal when she was talking to you. not when you were talking about dick. he seemed to be the odd factor. she seemed awkward when talking about him. did she even notice? if she doesn’t even know what she’s feeling, how are you supposed to?

you couldn’t just stand there and stare at them, that would be weird. you tried to quickly find something to do that would keep you in the cave with the both of them. luck must have been on your side, a few moments later kate came down the elevator shaft. she saw you standing around and walked over, “what’re you up to kiddo?”

“not much, did you go out tonight?”

“no, i stayed in tonight. i’ve gotta big project for work i have to finish.”

and you had a conversation starter, “oh? how’s that going?” as she started talking about work, you chimed in every now and then with basic replies so as to not seem like you were tuning her out. but, from the corner of your eye you watched dick and babs and how they interacted. he was all over her, but she wasn’t reciprocating. was dick picking up on it too? probably not, because he hadn’t shifted the way he was acting yet.

you wondered what they were talking about, and you wondered if it could have to do with why babs was so uninterested. you sat there for another ten, maybe fifteen minutes just talking to kate until it finally hit you. it wasn’t that barbara was uninterested in the topic, or tired from patrol or anything. she was uninterested in him. she was tired of dick. she had fallen out of love.

the sparks just weren’t there for her anymore, but the relationship otherwise wasn’t bad. dick still treated her amazing, and she was happy. but she wasn’t in love. it’s like she was in a relationship with her friend. it just wasn’t the same anymore. that’s why babs felt bad, she still cared for him just not as a partner. you weren’t sure if that made things harder or easier for you, though. you couldn’t talk to barbara, you weren’t sure if she knew she had fallen out of love. you didn’t want to assume something so huge, but the signs had become painfully obvious.

you didn’t want to freak her out by bringing it up, and you couldn’t really bring it up to anyone else. so, you did the only thing you could do. you finished the conversation with kate and made your way to room. you laid down, and went to sleep. all you could do was wait until tomorrow, when you’d be able to talk to bart. bart would know what to do. he always knows what to do. it’s one of the things you love about him. and so you decided that for tonight, you’d just enjoy some sleep.

tags: @fake-id-69 @neptunesxlover @purpleflower777 @missmystic-vampirebarbie @elarimard @nub-the-stub @xingqiusliegee

- dm me to be removed or fill out this form to be added!

#dick grayson x reader #batsis reader #batfam x batsis #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #batsis #dick grayson x batsis #bart allen x reader #impulse x reader #dc x reader #ourlastchance.♠️

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headingalaxys-spicy · 1 year

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omg i loved your magical strike ask 🫶

may i request a yandere magical strike america with a metal head darling who’s a guitarist?

This ask has Aggretsuko vibes on it, and I just finished the final season soooooooooo.

He isn't taken by surprise like some of the others, would be. He knows that people definitely have polar opposite sides to them sometimes and the degree varies. And for him, he feels like he should be the only one to witness this wild side of yours.

He found out about your special talent when you were shredding your guitar right after work. Some motherfucker was trying to catch dez hands the moment the phrase: "I don't want to talk to you. You've been rude. Where is your manager? I won't be insulted this way." You could practically hear the stupid bitch put her nose in the air when she said that. Before you even had a chance to politely respond while holding the poison on your tongue back in a dam, the witch hangs up in your face.

'Okay... well least I don't have to continue a conversation with that bitch anymore.' You think to yourself as you continue typing away on your computer. You had better things to worry about than some Boomer who couldn't get a grip on reality.

Then the phone proceeded to ring again about 20 minutes later. It was that old hag again.

This only adds more heat to your already budding irritation, and you are ready to explode. So you do what a metalhead does best: scream our head off and play your guitar and pretend that your fingers moving across the strings and ripping that rude witches face off.

"THE LION. THE WITCH AND THE AUDACITY OF THAT BITCH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Alfred heard your shrieking in the area and decided to see what the hell was going on. After all, he was bored and didn't really feel like being in another one of his business meetings. Yes, yes big oil and how he'll be destroying more natural land to get it and other crap. Alfred eventually find that room that you've escaped to and it's an abandoned reading room that few university students use. A perfect hideout and a great way for him to look through the glass as he watched you headbang and yell out to the mostly soundproof room how much you wish certain people should go fuck themselves, and take their entitlement with them. He'll watch for a few minutes before he will make himself know to you by interrupting your little vent session.

A lone person clapping interrupts you.

"You have quite the musical talent. I could really feel the power coming off of your lyrics. You have a show coming up soon I'd love to support your music."

These are the beginnings of where his control with begin. He will introduce you to the right people to get you a ' recording interview.'

With a top dog at a major record label. You nail it, and your road to stardom is a long grueling one. Where Alfred will begin to attach more and more control over you and you never seem to be able to have a moment without him when you're not on the stage, recording, or signing autographs. (Although during any of those events, he's never too far away and likely has another one of his henchmen watching you.)

He controls your tour schedule and schedules outside of your music career as well. Since you're exhausted from the long nights of practice, recording, and traveling, you tend not to notice the amount of control he has over you. Sure, when it comes to the paparazzi and such he always makes sure that you're close to him and he's probably giving you a peck on the cheek or a gentle peck on the lips for the cameras. He's ensuring all know that the famous metalhead is taken already.

As for fans who may be obsessed with you, Alfred has thought ahead. He uses a mix of Ai technology and his undercover agents to keep fans he deems too clingy. (IE they may be a Stan on Twitter who has concert tickets and a meet-and-greet pass. or someone who nonchalantly said on FB "I'd marry Y/N." Or even so far as having access to any device that has searched your name or band, become a part of his 'system' of which his computers and men will monitor for threats. They will be dealt with accordingly. )

Regardless escaping his watchful eyes is virtually impossible.

#hetalia fanfiction #hetalia x reader #yandere hetalia x reader #yandere x reader #hetalia imagines #hws alfred f jones #alfred jones #answered #hetalia fandom #hetalia fanfiction writers #magical strike au #hetalia magical strike au #headingalaxys spicy #headingalaxys writes stuff #hetalia headcannons

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lazaruspiss · 1 year

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watching batman ninja and taking notes bc idk how to focus <3 spoilers under the cut

batman ninja is a wild movie already but harleys design fucks

smth smth. everyone got sent to generally the same time/location with variation, time can vary by years (selina was sent 2 years before bruce) but probably not decades and id assume location varies to anywhere within a certain range of whatever island in japan that this is on.

nightwing and red hood were teamed up separately from batman before the blast that sent everyone back by the look of it. cute.

i wanna see ivyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy- DEATHSTROKE IS HERE?

ohh ok. time difference was based off of proximity/order that they were sucked in, making batman the last to show. a few minutes become years, everyone else were def much closer in timing but even a few seconds mightve made weeks difference in how far back they were sent.

lords alluded to so far: joker, penguin, ivy, deathstroke, two-face

mz ivy im in love w u

"once my fortress is complete, itll be my time to strike. yeahhh" OLD MAN. BOOMER. he says yeah like an adult actor playing a teen in an anti-drug ad campaign.

the lord intros are so fun actually

i love selinas little puppet, not a fan of bruces general disposition.

ok bruce looks better with the beard. also alfred what the fuck. how. and lmao. alfred. "lets go on a japan trip we get back."

HARLEYYYYY SHES SO CUTE. is this tara. i think its tara. love her.

classic "stop me or save the civilian trick" smh

congrats to bane on bulking up i guess? anyways. wheres the others. im bored of batman. i do love the little chibi batman who forcibly ejects bruce, someone mustve added a fail safe specifically for bruce being dumb and self destructive.

the lip syncing is off, is this a dub?

DICKIE!! anime hair... and dick's anime bf/leader of the ninjas.

"how do we regain the advantage when we have nothing" bruce. bruce. the whole squad is here + a ninja army. girl.

DAMIAN? oh hes still cute.

monkee :) hes so silly

so tims swords are just for decoration then? weirdo. joker gets his ass beat, whatever. tim states the obvious. backstab fest. im bored again.

"joker!! you'll kill yourself!!" "that's the point, lmao"

35 min in, still no red hood. just establishing shots to explain that each lord has the special time sticks.

"i didnt know who i was after i lost my car" could you be anymore pathetic. he isnt even cute pathetic, hes just "id push him into a puddle" pathetic. stop brooding you boring bitch. oh thank god. he acknowledges that he has other people carrying his ass. red hood still hasn't shown up, not even for bruces go team speech.

ACK. THE CUT IN ART. SO PRETTY. ill probably make another post for screenshots.

red hood time. finally. jason the buddhist monk and his joker hunt sidequest. a part of jasons lashing out at harley is framed in a way that makes it look like a sexual assault imo, so it's giving some mixed emotions. like if this turns out to just be some regular farmers this would be a "stranger breaks in and gropes your wife while threatening you" kinda deal. i mean they went ass shot to jason grabbing her and holding her like. ack. like hes holding her like that so he can break her arm but u gotta trust me it looks Bad. not to just narrate the entire scene but its a lot. jason's pissed and scary, the art is very pretty, im sacred and a little. you know. youve seen me post you know how i am.

this movie kinda. i personally think it wouldve looked better in 2d.

"if you knew him like i did" bruce... also mr j and harley are fully amnesiac so jason the effectively traumatize 2 strangers for no reason. jokerquinn gets a happy ending by becoming farmers. "we'll take them back with us-" NO??? THIS IS LITERALLY THEIR HAPPY ENDING?? THIS IS THEIR BEST/ONLY SHOT AND TRUE REHABILITATION BRUCE. BRINGING THEM BACK WOULD BE PURE STUPIDITY AND/OR SELFISHNESS.

jason saying bruce but bruce saying red hood...

whoops. they still remember, so bruce is just a dumb hoe who thought he and joker had something special.

why are there penguins here. like actual penguins. and why does slade have a gf.

red hood has my fav voice acting of the boys tbh, the others sound a bit clunky. and is ivy also tara. she sounds a bit like tt03 raven.

mech battle. slade is still hot. even if he is a cringe old man. HARVEY BUDDHA BOT?

dami should get to keep his monkey friend. as a treat.

THIS ISNT SKYRIM I DONT THINK HORSES CAN RUN LIKE THAT

ok two face is funny. coin said i gotta beat ur ass now. literal "switching on a dime" behavior

hi welcome back to robot wars. fight scenes are really hit or miss for me, i love em or i fall asleep. smth smth. joker moment. clowns doing the heavy lifting. and where is harley getting her hair dye from, or is that a wig?

fun fact! red spider lilies (the flower growing from jokers gas bomb) symbolize death <3

aaaaand we're back to mech battles. voltron assemble or whatever.

dami almost gets squished trying to save monkey

bruce. bruce are you having an autism event or are you being rude on purpose. anyways give the dues ex macina to dami he deserves it more. baby boy can play the flute so good <3

"momi?" "whos she" a monkey friend tim. obviously.

THE MONKEYS ARE HELPING HIM PLAY IM GONNA LOSE IT. thats so unrealistic but its sooooooooo cute.

m. monkey.

damian is having the time of his life fr

damian is no longer having the time of his life

bats. bat monkey. b. batman? how.

fire no match for batman made of monkeys and bats. anime punch.

Nightwing Vs Penguin, Red Hood Vs Deathstroke, Red Robin Vs Two Face, Robin Vs Poison Ivy

damian that was not a joke. A for effort tho.

ok so the amnesia WAS real but smth smth plant magic.

joker that is not what a joke is. you're worse that damian.

4 barrels, who do you think you are deathstroke. the guy who killed the prime minister of japan? HARLEY? harley. this frame gets its own post she straight up licked her. and thats a lot of bare monkey ass. blah blah they blow up robot. "keep your tongue to yourself" blushing rn

batjokes sword fight, im bored again. joker has a boner. who give a shit. bruce bores me in that special way of his. i am once again reminded about why i can only ever pay attention to him when Dick is involved. if someone else doesnt show up soon my eyes are gonna roll back into my head. joker is not funny enough to make this interesting. hes kinda hot tho. is it just me or are the animators losing steam towards the end of this. im. im bored. oh i missed the fans, those were cool, its nice to see them one last time. blah blah kill joker- wait a minu- ok nvm. coward. batjokes should die together an share a grave. in main canon even.

gonna cry over monkichi brb. at least he has monmi. his sister? gf? both?

ok so by the credits i assume this movie was originally in japanese. anyways. after credits. bruce does wayne stuff, selina does catwoman things. pfft. old style batcart dents a strangers car.

harley and ivy were tara strong ofc, and apparently jason and dami shared a VA, i didnt even notice that. so did dick and alfred. and grodd and deathstroke. a lot of double casting.

#batman ninja reactions

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countessofravenclaw · 2 years

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The 2022 writing Advent calendar: Day 5

5. Nutcracker AU

14-year-old Ambar Smith walked down to stairs, every hair just right, pinned in the hairdo she had spent almost an hour on. She was wearing a red glittering dress which definitely would catch some eyes as she descended to the light and spendler or her godmother’s Christmas party.

She had hosted them for as long as Ambar could remember. She had not been allowed to attend until she had been 10. The party was grand… and the most boring thing in the world. It was all nods and handshakes and forced polite smiles. But Ambar had been trained for this her whole life, she was perfect, she could act perfect.

“Ambar.” Sharon greeted her with a firm polite smile, just like always. “Come here. You do remember my busin…”

The night felt like it dragged on for ages. Ambar tried her best not to let it show how bored she was. She wished her whole heart that she could have just gone to Roller, but her godmother would have never allowed it. It was all about the appearances.

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!” Suddenly the door opened and Alfredo, Sharon’s father was standing at the door.

“Father, what a surprised!” Sharon greeted him with normal cool and collected demeanor, but Ambar was able to tell that she was annoyed. “I thought you would not be able to make it.”

“How would I ever miss your fabulous parties,” Alfred laughed, “that is the one quality you got from me. I brought presents.”

“Those can wait, dad,” Sharon’s tone kept getting cooler, “We have guests.”

Ambar sat down on the couch for the rest of the evening. She only looked up from her though as she saw a gift wrapped in silver wrapping paper being slid in front of her. She looked up and saw Alfredo’s smiling face.

“This is for you Ambar. Open it before Sharon comes and catches us.”

Ambar smiled back and picked the gift up. She could have just ripped the paper off, but she had been raised to be as proper as possible, so she just elegantly opened the paper up from its folds.

The wrapping paper revealed a beautiful wood-carved nutcracker. It appeared to be hand-painted and all the details must have needed hours of detailed work. Something about the nutcracker's facial features really intrigued Ambar, she did not know why.

“What are you doing?” Ambar looked up and saw her godmother looming over them.

“Just giving Ambat her Christmas gift,” Alfredo answered, “I found that nutcracker when I was in Mexico, it is originally handmade…”

“Father, Ambar is too old to play with such toys,” Sharon scoffed. Then she reached out and quickly took the nutcracker off from Ambar’s hands. Ambar wanted to protest but knew better than do so and cause a scene. She watches as Sharon put the nutcracker on top of the fireplace

The clock was striking midnight and Ambar tip toad her way down the stairs at the mansion. She was afraid she would wake somebody up, and get scolded about not being in bed, but she had to get her nutcracker back.

All the Christmas lights had been left on, and Ambar took a moment to appreciate the beauty they created in the mansion living room when it was empty and silent… so peaceful.

She tiptoes her way through the hall and the living room. She saw her nutcracker on the fireplace mantel, illuminated by all the lights. She reached up and grabbed it…

She must have blacked pit for a moment since she woke off from the floor… and everything looked so huge. The three looked like it was at least 20 meters tall. Had she shrunken? How, why…?

Suddenly she screamed into the night as a dark figure was looming over her. She froze as it took a step forward towards her… bent down… and offered and hand to her. She, maybe against her better judgment, took it.

The hand felt wooden and big? What was this? As Ambar was pulled up, the figure’s face came into the light.

Ambar gasped again. It was the nutcracker.

“Are you alright fair maiden?” The nutcracker asked with a voice that sounded faintly Mexican.

“Yes, I am,” Ambar answered confused.

“We must get you to safety.” The nutcracker raise his sword and dodged behind the tree, pulling Ambat with him.

“Safety? Safe from what?”

“The mouse army is coming!”

“Mouse?!” Ambar started panicking, “We don’t have mice here!”

“The king's army will be coming,” The nutcracker said, determination in his voice, “Wait here.”

Ambar sat in the corner as the nutcracker rolled out from under the tree. He had been right, Ambar could clearly hear noises of battle… but with mice? She was not sure.

Then it suddenly became silent. Ambar carefully peeked from under the tree and then started crawling.

She stood up and started walking towards the fireplace. She did not see the nutcracker anywhere, but just a dark siluet in the middle of the room.

“What happened here?” Ambar asked confused, “Where is the nutcracker?”

“I am right here,” the man said with the same Mexican aspect. “I was able to defeat the Mouse King, and so my curse was lifted.”

“Curse? What on earth are you talking about?”

The man suddenly stepped into the light. He had the same facial features as the Nutcracker. “I was able to become a human again. My name is Simon, what is yours?”

“Ambar” she just stared, and she had to admit he was quite handsome.

“Ambar, that is a really beautiful name,” Simon said and took Ambar’s hand and kissed it.

“Ambar? Ambar?! AMBAR!!!” Ambar shook awake on the front seat of the car after Simon had nudged her for the millionth time.

“What?” Ambar rubbed her eyes, “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yes, you did,” Simon laughed. “But were here.” Ambar looked around and saw that they were parked in front of the theatre.

“And you were so afraid that I’d fall asleep during that ballet,” Simon continued laughing, “Delfi and Pedro are waiting for us.”

So, there we have a really condensed version of the Nutcracker story, featuring Simbar

#2022 Writing DCLA+ advent calendar #Soy LUna #Simbar #Nutcracker

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viewfromplanetx · 1 year

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Samurai film reviews 4 (or for you Brits Sam-mew-rye)

Jatoichi - This is a musical about a blind (more on that later) masseur. Hot chicks, a hot ladyboy, So many retards. To the left, to the right, running around in circles, bumbling in mud, hitting each other with sticks—great choreography! Hang around for the big dance number finale. And, for the last time and for crying out loud, is he blind or not???

Three Outlaw Samurai - What’s a “three outlaw”? Three strikes and you’re out? Need to make better use of commas and dashes people. Anyway, this cheeky flick tells the tale of a traveling mariachi band called The Three Amigos who find themselves in hot straits when some fooktarded Daimyo’s daughter is kidnapped and held for ransom. Hilarity ensues due to mistaken identity, shenanigans and other hi-jinx. Eventually, they’re forced to eat millet. So, they cheese it and leave the pesky villagers to fend for themselves.

Hidden Blade - Not Hidden Fortress. I won’t make that mistake again. Hot chicks? check. Retards? check. Wangs? check. Blood and guts? double check. Swords? yes. Machine guns? can’t say I like that. Japanese Hitler? WTF? 8[

Afro Samurai Resurrection - This turd of a movie will make you wish you had just stuck with the Criterion Collection. What the heck’s a Crunchyroll anyways? Sounds vaguely sexual. Sure, this flick checks all the boxes and then some (evil teddy bear, evil robots, big tiddie waifu), but him and his janky-ass sword are just way too chipper for my tastes.

Harakiri - Gaaawd damn that was hard to watch. This film was made by Alfred Hitchcock during his Blue Period when he only used black and white film with mono soundtrack. It’s the fast-paced story of a down and out Ronin and his dwindling family. The family is so small and poor that at one point they use their infant son as a piece in a Parcheesi game. The ancient Chinese pastime is symbolic here of a life without care. As in, he don’t care bout nuthin so why not just off it. Rated PG-13 for graphic scenes of disembowelment with a dull bamboo cheese spreader. (I would’ve puked if it was in full color and surround sound) Overall, I would give it 2.5 out of 5 stars, if I used stars.

7 Samurai - The timeless tale of 7 star-crossed lovers. How does that work? Well, the pesky villagers are always looking for them. What else could they be doing? Remakes include: The Magnificent Seven (twice over), Battle Beyond the Stars, Star Wars the Clone Wars episode Bounty Hunters, The Mandalorian episode Sanctuary, Samurai 7, Seven Samurai 20XX (video game). Who knows how many others credited or otherwise. My favorite scene is of them chowing on millet gruel and whinging about it. Meanwhile, other Ronin are so hungry they threaten harakiri for a few Parcheesi pieces.

Battle Beyond the Stars - This is an avant-garde movie by Akira Kurosawa consisting of 9 hours of blackness. Avant-garde is Latin for “long sad/boring.” Beyond the stars there’s nothing. No matter, therefore no way to measure distance. Without distance there’s no way to mark time. All photons are collocated. So, no film can be exposed and nothing happens. There is no “creation” event, so no God either. Joseph Campbell and George Lucas are rolling in their graves.

Oh, wait, I see the problem. I was on Peacock and the app crashed (again!). Guess I just wasted 9 hours staring at a blank screen. Anyway, the UFO (universal fix operation)—off and back on—fixed it.

Battle Beyond the Stars - After most of the retards and a couple hot chicks are killed on his planet Lil Pray’ree, John-boy (don’t mention his m-m-m-mole) takes off in his spaceship the SS Teabagger to tour the galaxy on a sex vacation. At first he’s chased by lobotomized morons but quickly escapes due to the nagging of the B-ahtch 9000 computer. On his way he meets a princess, a lizard, a hairless wookiee named Jorge and things blow up. Unfortunately, he returns with only seven ships full of dudes and chicks and… others, all of whom are virgins except one or two. I’m guessing the villagers molest all of them. I don’t know, couldn’t finish the thing due to 10 hours staring at the tiny screen on my phone.

Samurai Cheddar - Okay, I made that up. But, it seems like you can put any random words ahead or behind “Samurai” and there’s a flick by that name. Extra points for using a number—1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 13, 47, 300 and 20XX are taken.

#movies #samurai #satire #spoiler #movie review

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funight · 2 years

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An Albanian family had encamped

Our carriage of the morning took us back to the Piraeus about half-past nine. The night was most lovely, and the solemn effect of the Acropolis in the clear moonlight, with Hymettus in the distance, more impressive than anything I had ever seen. Everything was still along the road, except at the halfway shed, where the same people appeared to have been lounging about since the morning. The water in the harbor was like glass, and the air so transparent, that the sharp outline of the vessels lying even at a considerable distance, was most remarkable. Amongst these was H. M. S. Sharpshooter, which will perhaps account for my hearing the air of “ Jim Crow ” played on a violin in the “ grogs- shop.” But beyond this absurdity, nothing broke the silence, and, before the quivering ripples that our boat produced had quite died away, I had gone down to my berth for the first time — the temperature being considerably lower than before; and, very tired with the day’s work, soon fell asleep.

SMYRNA

Five o’clock the next morning, the 29th, all the old noise began again — the same frightful riot, clanking of chains, bawling and stamping overhead, that appeared necessary to move the steamer—in the middle of which they shut down our hatchway, and threw a tarpaulin over it, which brought me from my berth in an instant.

I found we had taken in several deck passengers — chiefly Greeks. An Albanian family had encamped in the flat-boat upon deck. There was a young man and his wife, her brother, a very old woman, and a baby; and they had made a perfect nest of bedding, carpets, and baggage, in which they all huddled. There was a look of extreme misery and broken spirit about these poor people that was excessively painful. They did not appear to have anything more than a melon or two, and some coarse bread, for their stores; and they drank the tepid water from a tub on deck. Our little milliners took the baby under their care in the cabin, for which the mother — a mere girl herself—was most grateful. The conveyanoe was effected entirely by pantomime, for each was ignorant of the other’s language, and very prettily it was done. The family was bound to Smyrna, to pack figs—a wretched employment enough, I should imagine, but one which appeared to be worth the migration. The girl’s head was dressed in the manner I had seen most prevalent at Athens. First, she wore the common scarlet skull-cap, bound round with a yellow handker chief. Over this, again, her long black hair was wound, neatly plaited; and about it, but irregularly, were hung a few trifling coins, with holes bored in them. The effect altogether was novel and graceful.

Our course lay amongst many islands, none of them striking; and, indeed, some were bare stony hills, rising at once from the sea. We could only read to get through the day, for it was again too hot to talk, and no particularly exciting events occurred. The cabin-boy, to be sure, was found out in telling stories, and sentenced to have his hair cut close to his head, for a punishment, which was done by an amateur hand, in a fashion the most extraordinary ; and the cook, who had been six years with Cavaignae, and three with Changarnier, in Afriea, had a row with the com- missaire, or purser, because the passengers had complained of his fricassee de Poulet that morning, suggesting that it was made from the results of the preceding chief cabin dinner; and would not stand any more omelets. ’So he promised that special fowls should be reserved for the next dish, and that an artful compound of eggs and onions, which lie termed ceufs d la tripe, should supersede the omelettes; and thus harmony was restored, and the day wore lazily on rose festival tour.

Virginia and Pauline dressed and undressed the baby every half-hour, and made it a little coat, amidst a pitiless storm of badinage. The Marseilles brunette was lost in a volume of Alfred de Musset’s poetry. I did* not see what she was reading, but if congeniality had led her to reflect upon the Andalouse, her thoughts must have been more or less remarkable. Our phrenologist had fixed the American to a game of chess, played upon a little portable board, with card men that slipped into the squares, and were difficult to be distinguished; and the rest of the* folks sent the winged moments flying upon wreaths of cigar smoke, as they re-read old newspapers, or lay down in their berths. However, night came at last; and when we awoke the next morning at daybreak, we were informed that we were approaching Smyrna.

#An Albanian family had encamped

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taksimhookah · 2 years

Photo

An Albanian family had encamped

SMYRNA

#An Albanian family had encamped

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foodbulgaria · 2 years

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An Albanian family had encamped

SMYRNA

#An Albanian family had encamped

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lifestylelalka · 2 years

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An Albanian family had encamped

SMYRNA

#An Albanian family had encamped

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alfredosauce50 · 2 years

Note

Hello there! Can I ask for some 1p America headcannons? I love your blog so much!

Abso-fucking-lutely. I’d be delighted to.

In all my years of running this blog, this is the FIRST time someone has asked me to do headcanons on Alfred. Weird, right? I gotta boil it down to how much I write about him that people get their fill, but... Who can actually get enough of this shithead?

This is gonna be such a cinch it’ll be like I’m typing out of my ass. Thanks for the ask, truly.

America headcanons

He comes off as quite outgoing and people-loving. And he is! Alfred lives to entertain others, and the world is his stage. But with how likable he is on the surface, comes a lot of hidden flaws and darker sides of himself that he isn’t exactly proud of.

Appearance

Alfred has short, sandy blonde hair, which is parted in a cowlick towards the right side of his head. He’s young, so he’s in the midpoint between ��cute’ and ‘handsome.’ Another thing he’s got going for him is how intense his boyish charm is. He’s the walking definition of it.

He’s also quite pale, but he picks up a tan quite easily in the Summer. In regards to his build, he’s a bit of an all-rounder. He’s six feet, has a fit and athletic body, and a good amount of muscles. Bigger guys often mistake that for being able to beat him in anything strength-related. He can and will break someone’s arm if he’s not careful.

He wears T-shirts, band shirts, hoodies, sweatshirts, baseball jackets, and just about anything an average college student would have in their closet. But his favorite has to be his brown bomber jacket he sticks all his patches on. He can’t go wrong with denim, either.

Personality

One of the few universal truths in the world is that Alfred is an extrovert. He has no problem striking up a conversation with classmates or teachers if he wants to ask questions, if not, tune into a subject he finds remotely interesting. He’s incredibly outgoing, friendly, and has great people skills. There’s no way the atmosphere can ever be awkward or boring when he walks in.

He’s a nice jock. Alfred is used to being popular and is rather confident, but he’s not an asshole about it. That’s why he becomes a bit of a magnet of just about everybody—people trust him with about anything and everything. If they do withhold information from him, he won’t mind either. “Alright, then. Keep your sea-crits.”

Alfred can be a bit insensitive. He could say something totally out of pocket, but people give him a pass for it because he ‘doesn’t mean it.’ He talks before he thinks, and might sound mean when he isn’t trying to be. If he really crosses the line, everyone will stare at him until he stares back with a shrug. “What? I’m just saying.”

He loves messing around. He’s got ten inside jokes going on at any given time, and if not, he’s pranking his friends (harmlessly, of course). Alfred would be the one to fill a pitcher with kraft macaroni juice and put it in the fridge to wait for unsuspecting victims. When someone falls for it and chews him out, he’ll just laugh and point. “Who said it was orange juice? It’s your fault for drinking my stuff. This is a warning.”

He’s easily excitable. When a movie plays, he’s the first to get into it, and boy, does he get it into it. If he’s going on a road trip, he’ll be bumping to the radio and scream-sing the lyrics until someone tells him to shut up—it’s no use when he sneaks in quiet humming until he’s singing again. “You don’t like Mr. Brightside? Weirdo...”

Alfred can be strangely serious at times. He’s smarter than he lets on, and nobody can predict when he decides to show it. But it’s no surprise that he’s clever when he’s a reliable guy. What does catch people off guard is when he says something so on the mark, it’s hard to believe he’s the same goofball ten minutes ago.

He’s fiercely loyal and protective. He couldn’t care less if somebody messed with him. But if they messed with his friend, they should count their days. Alfred is cunning and knows what will hurt someone, and he won’t hesitate to say it to their face if they deserve it. Otherwise, he’s not above punching someone if he’s angry enough. “You sure you wanna say that again?” Alfred will laugh menacingly, holding them against a wall. “Because I’ll really fuck you up this time.”

So if you knew him well enough, you’d also know how scary he can be. He doesn’t like his temper, but he can’t resist giving people what they have coming. “Some people need their feelings hurt.”

Interests

He has a crazy obsession with superheroes. Marvel, DC, it doesn’t matter to him. He’s an avid comic book collector, and will go on random tangents on the lore of his favorite characters. Some people might accuse him of having a hero complex, but he always denies it with this: “I’m a Batman fan, so your opinion is invalid.”

Alfred is a cinephile. He has great taste in movies because it’s so diverse. He will watch anything regardless of genre, country, or language. If he likes it, he’ll always have something to say.

He’s a nerd, and he’s proud. This guy is really big on video games and merch, and he’s convinced they’re the coolest things he owns. If he wasn’t so passionate, how else would he have an idea of what he’d be dressing up as for Halloween?

If you asked him what his favorite song was, he’d just say ‘Katy Perry.’

He enjoys learning languages and traveling. Alfred knows a good bit of Spanish, Japanese, and Mandarin Chinese. He’s a foodie and history-enthusiast to boot, so he won’t pass up the chance to experience things in person.

He has a weird love for strangers and neighbors. Sure, he may not know them, but that’s what makes it so much better! He’ll go out of his way to help someone when it’s unexpected of him, and never ask for anything in return. If they asked him for directions, for example, he’d just walk with them to where they needed to go.

Psychology + romance

If you know him, he probably already thinks you’re his friend. Getting out of the friend zone is another story and an experience in and of itself. If you laugh at his jokes and make it clear how much you enjoy his company, you’re already off to a good start. But to catch his eye, you’ll have to be more patient and observant than the rest.

Ironically, he’s the most afraid of not being accepted or well-liked. He can’t handle the idea of being ignored, dismissed, or made fun of. Alfred gets most of his support from the crowd, so it wouldn’t be ideal if it turned on him! That’s why he’s so hellbent on keeping his reputation under wraps as the fun and cool popular.

Ergo, Alfred has trouble getting over himself. He has a ‘perfect’ image he wants to be perceived by, so he struggles with feeling close to most of his friends. If he doesn’t come off as the comedic relief, all his layers start to break down. Only a small handful of people see him for who he is, including all his flaws and insecurities.

If you’re genuine with him, i.e. you don’t treat him like a celebrity or put him on a pedestal, he will start paying attention to you. Even better, you start disclosing your thoughts to him until he’ll feel it’s safe to do the same. He feels wanted on a personal level, so he won’t hold back on being honest. Soon, Alfred will prefer hanging out with you to other people because he feels more comfortable to be himself.

He’s very persistent with people he trusts. Alfred is used to getting what he wants, so he won’t stop pestering you until you go somewhere with him. Regardless of when or where, at 4PM, midnight, to a seven-eleven or to the movies, he will stop on the way there just to beg you on the phone. “Aw, c’mon. I want you to come. And you know you wanna come. So, pretty please?”

Alfred will ask you to go on bigger or longer trips as your friendship progresses. Somewhere down the line, he will text you ‘I need a new chair,’ and two hours later, you’ll find yourself at IKEA helping him pick out things he doesn’t need. If the weather’s good, he’ll take you to the beach or to national reserves to go camping and hiking.

He’s in denial at first, which doesn’t bode well for how much he expects from you now. If you make plans with other people, he will get upset even when he doesn’t have the right to be. Alfred can be quite selfish. He’s not above talking you out of something just so he can have you to himself. “We always have Fridays together,” He frowns. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it first?”

One of his love languages of quality time, so it’s no wonder why it affects him so. The only problem is that he’s not being honest about it. As a result, he might brood or bicker with you about the smallest things. When you finally snap and tell him to lay off of you, he’ll stand his ground.

“You saying you don’t like me?” Alfred murmurs.

“It’s your obsession with who I see and what I do.”

“You didn’t deny that you don’t like me, though.” He raises his brows, taking your wrist with a hand.

“That’s got nothing to do with it, though!”

“Yes, it does!”

“You’re being way too difficult about this,” You huff, giving your head a defeated shake. “I like you and all, but you aren’t my boyfriend. Why should I care about what you have to say with what I do with my time?”

“Why not?” Alfred leans in.

“Why can’t I be your boyfriend?”

He loves hard and is eager to show it. Another one of his love languages is physical touch, so when things become official, he’ll always want to kiss and hug you. Even when the situation makes it less than ideal, like a busy hallway or mall, he’ll trap you with his arms for good, hot make-out. Alfred has no qualms against getting frisky out in the open, so if his hands start to wander, all he needs is a sharp jab to behave again.

Alfred tends to be a little co-dependent in the relationship, so he’s even more susceptible to being jealous. That’s why he really values communication. It works out most of the time, but when it doesn’t, it’s usually him causing the problems. Fights will happen every now and then, but it won’t be long before they’re resolved.

Alfred will have to learn to be more patient, and forfeit control sometimes. Otherwise, he’s a very generous, caring, and sensual boyfriend. He will do anything for his partner, and try to do better where he struggles.

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 3 years

Text

Hanging Out With the Right People

Prompt: MCD or near-death experience

Relationship: Geralt & Jaskier; Eskel/Geralt/Yennefer; pre-Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer

Rating: M

Warnings: depictions of hanging

Summary: Moments away from being publicly executed, Jaskier can’t help but strike up a conversation with the handsome, white-haired witcher standing on the scaffold next to him. After all, what better way to spend the end of his life than flirting with a good-looking stranger?

But when said good-looking stranger’s two lovers come to their rescue, Jaskier decides to turn his almost-execution into the opportunity of a lifetime.

This is my last whump prompt for @whataboutthebard. All wreck and wuv from here on out! You can read it below or find it here on AO3.

***

“So,” Jaskier asks the attractive stranger standing on the scaffold next to him. “What are you in for?”

It’s just his luck that he would meet the most handsome man he’s ever laid eyes on when he only has minutes left to live. He thinks he could write a thousand odes to the man’s snowy white hair, the chiseled cut of his jaw, his broad shoulders. He already has a tune in his head, but he’s finding it difficult to come up with lyrics that do it justice when there’s a noose around his neck, an executioner at his back, and a crowd baying for his blood.

The white-haired man doesn’t look at him. He looks remarkably bored for someone who’s only minutes from being hung. “Triple homicide.”

“Oh.” Jaskier blinks. “Did they deserve it?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

Well, that’s cryptic. “I’m here for debauchery.”

The stranger snorts. “Fuck the baron’s daughter or something?”

"Ha, if only! Just my luck, to be hung for debauchery the one time I haven't actually debauched anyone." Jaskier laughs, sounding a bit hysterical. “No, it’s who I didn’t fuck that was the problem. The baron wasn’t best pleased when I turned him down and next thing I knew, I was being clapped in irons."

"Hm," the other man says.

Jaskier laughs again, even though nothing is funny. He feels oddly calm after two weeks of utter, mind-numbing terror while he sat in a dungeon, awaiting the letter from his father that he hoped would convince the baron to spare his life. Instead, when the letter arrived, the Earl de Lettenhove stated that he had no son named Julian and that the man in the Baron de Tridest’s custody was an impostor that the baron could do with as he pleased. The way Jaskier sees it, he could spend his last moments weeping and babbling prayers, like three of the five men standing on the scaffold, or he could spend them making conversation with an interesting stranger.

Music starts up and Jaskier twists around to see a wiry, scruffy bard in a hideous hat striking up one of those vicious public execution songs that he’s always hated. And to add insult to injury…

“That’s my lute!” Jaskier jerks at the bonds around his wrists, leaning forward as far as he can without plunging off the scaffold and hanging himself ahead of schedule. It only took him twenty-five years, but he’s finally learned how to wait his turn. “Son of a whore, they stole my lute!”

The white-haired man still isn’t looking at him. “You’re a bard?”

“Julian Alfred Pankratx, Vis—” Jaskier’s voice breaks. He’s no longer the Viscount de Lettenhove; his father has washed his hands of him. “Also known as Jaskier the Bard. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

“Probably not.”

“And who might you be?”

“Nobody important.”

“Ah, I must disagree. As you’re the last person on this mortal plane I’m ever going to make conversation with, your name is quite important to me.” There’s a plea in Jaskier’s voice, much to his embarrassment. They’re reading out the list of charges against the first man— horse theft and poaching.

The white-haired stranger says nothing. There’s the sound of a wooden platform being slid away and then the hideous crunch of a neck breaking, audible even over the horrible song the bard is playing on Jaskier’s lute. Jaskier can’t quite contain his shudder.

“Geralt of Rivia,” the man says quietly.

Jaskier’s eyes go wide and he twists around to look at the man. “Oh, I’ve heard of you! You’re a witcher!”

“Hm.”

“The Butcher of—” At Geralt’s wince, Jaskier chooses a different tactic. “You know, years ago, I was in Posada and I heard word you’d just been passing through, dealing with a grain-stealing devil. I tried to track you down, but I must have just missed you.”

They’re reading out charges against the second man— assault and theft.

Geralt is still facing forward, but looks at Jaskier out of the corner of his eye. “And why would you be trying to track me down?”

“Because I’m a traveling bard and I’m always on the lookout for a new muse.”

“Hm.”

“I suppose I caught up with you too late for storytelling.”

Another slide of wood, a crack. Cheers from the crowd. Jaskier can feel sweat prickling on his palms and forehead.

“Not much of a storyteller anyway,” Geralt says. “You’d like my… uh, Eskel. He’s the storyteller of the two of us.”

“Ah, well maybe I’ll have better luck next time.”

That gets another snort out of Geralt, though there’s no humor in it. “It’s not that bad, you know.”

“What isn’t?”

“Dying. My heart’s stopped a few times. There’s nothing after this. Whatever the Eternal Fire spews about hellfire and demons, it’s all bullshit. It will be like going to sleep. You won’t suffer.”

Jaskier has never believed in hellfire or demons, but he can’t deny that his dreams have been plagued by thoughts of both ever since he learned he was sentenced to death. He lets out a shuddering breath as the third man on the scaffold meets his end. Jaskier didn't even hear the charges against him being read. “Thank you, Geralt.”

Geralt nods, turning to look at Jaskier for the first time. His slit-pupiled eyes are a lovely golden color.

“Geralt of Rivia,” the magistrate says. “For the brutal and senseless murders of three young men, you have hereby been sentenced to hang from the neck until you are dead. I would say may the gods have mercy on your soul, but you’re a witcher. You have no soul.”

Geralt faces forward again, nostrils flaring, as the crowd roars their approval. Jaskier is suddenly seized by the terror he’s been suppressing all day. He doesn’t want to die but he also doesn’t want to watch this man with his golden eyes and enigmatic little smile lose his life. He barely knows Geralt, but something tells him that this man has more soul than all the jackasses braying for his blood combined.

Jaskier opens his mouth. He’s not sure what he’s going to say, but he has to say something in Geralt’s defense.

“Stop!” A man’s voice booms across the crowd.

Jaskier’s head jerks up, heart leaping into his throat. A guardsman wearing the livery of the Baron of Tridest comes galloping through the crowd on horseback, parting the mob. For an instant, Jaskier feels the first swell of hope he’s felt in weeks. His father has changed his mind. He’s written to the baron to ask for his oldest son to be spared. Jaskier is going to live.

“By the order of his lordship the baron, all charges against Geralt of Rivia are hereby dropped,” the guard announces. “He’s to be released immediately.”

A swell of conflicting emotions rises within Jaskier— joy that Geralt gets to live and a kind of numb dread as the hopelessness of his own situation settles in. There’s no last minute rescue coming for him. Jaskier is going to die.

The executioner slips the noose from around Geralt’s neck and unties his wrists and ankles. The guard leaps down from horseback to take Geralt by the arm, as if afraid that Geralt is going to protest his stay of execution. For his part, Geralt’s expression is as bored as it was when there was a noose around his neck, like this is all a mild inconvenience.

“Well, nice chatting with you, Geralt.” Jaskier hates how his voice quavers. “I would say I’d see you around but, well, you know.”

Geralt turns to him, a furrow forming in his brow. Jaskier focuses on those golden eyes. They're a far finer last thing to see than the three corpses hanging from the scaffold, the braying crowd, or the leering bard with his lute.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz,” the magistrate says, recovering himself. “For the crimes of debauchery and disturbing the peace—”

“Fuck,” Geralt growls and seizes the sword from the guard’s belt. Before the man can react, he drives the hilt right into the guard’s temple. As the guard crumples, the executioner shouts and starts forward. Geralt makes a complicated little gesture with his hand and the executioner is blasted backwards into another guard that’s come to assist. Geralt swings his stolen sword, severing the rope around Jaskier’s neck from the scaffold. Then without so much as a moment’s hesitation, he picks Jaskier up, slings him over the shoulder, and leaps down to the ground.

“Geralt!” Jaskier shrieks as spectators begin rushing forward to stop the escape.

“I know!” Geralt says over the clash of steel against steel.

From his position dangling over Geralt’s shoulder like a well-dressed sack of potatoes, Jaskier can’t see much, save for his close-up view of a remarkably lovely, leather-clad bottom. He cranes his head to see Geralt doing his best to fend off the bystanders who are trying to prevent their escape, seemingly doing everything in his power not to kill the civilians rushing at him with pitchforks and clubs. It occurs to Jaskier that the witcher would have a much easier time of it if he were to drop the bard slung over his shoulder, but Geralt seems unwilling to let him be trampled.

Geralt is engaged in combat with what sounds like at least two or three attackers when another man comes rushing at him from behind, pitchfork aimed right at the back of Geralt’s head.

“Geralt, behind you!” Jaskier shouts.

Geralt’s only response is a curse.

Just when Jaskier is convinced that either he or the witcher is going to be impaled on a pitchfork, a broad-shouldered, cloaked figure steps between the charging villager and his quarry. The villager takes one look at the hooded figure’s face and turns tail to run, letting his pitchfork clatter to the ground. The cloaked figure raises their hand and sends a stream of flames at two of the baron’s guards, sending them running after the villager, shrieking in terror.

The newcomer turns and Jaskier’s eyes widen at the sight of a handsome, brown-haired man with the same slit-pupiled eyes as Geralt. “What the fuck, Wolf?” he demands.

“Where’s Yenn?” is Geralt’s only reply.

“Back at the camp. We didn’t think she needed to be here, since you were supposed to just walk away when the baron pardoned your life.”

“Couldn’t let them hang him. Here, catch.”

Jaskier has no warning before he’s sailing through the air, letting out a single, manly shriek of surprise. The newcomer catches him with one arm. Luckily, he doesn’t sling Jaskier over his shoulder, since his armor is spiked, but instead holds Jaskier in some kind of one-armed bridal carry that’s hideously uncomfortable.

“Why, hello,” Jaskier says, because he’s never let an awkward situation stop him from chatting up handsome men. “I’m Jaskier.”

The newcomer arches an eyebrow. “Eskel.”

“Oh, you’re Eskel. I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Have you.”

“Well, there wasn’t time for an in-depth conversation, but Geralt did tell me that you’re quite the storyteller.”

“Huh.” Eskel sends another burst of flame at a group of approaching villagers, sending them scattering. With perfect ease, he tosses Jaskier from one arm to the other and draws his sword.

“Do I weigh anything to you?” Jaskier asks more out of curiosity than anything.

“Not really,” Eskel says. “Angle’s a bit awkward, though.”

“Apologies. Had Geralt taken a second to cut the ropes around my ankles, I could at least stand on my own without getting trampled underfoot. Not that I’m criticizing his rescue efforts, mind you. They were quite heroic.”

“Sure he’ll welcome the feedback.”

There’s a whoosh of air and a portal opens up in front of them. A dark-haired woman wearing an elegant black dress steps through. Looking around at the chaos, she demands, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Hey, Yennefer,” Eskel says.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she asks again. “I bespelled the baron and his guards! All Geralt had to do was walk away.”

“Yeah, he’s not good at that.” Eskel shoves Jaskier at her. “Take him.”

Jaskier goes tumbling face-first into the woman, barely managing to avoid ending up with his face in her cleavage. “Apologies, my lady, I—”

“Who the fuck are you?” she demands.

“Julian Alfred—”

With a muttered expletive, she tosses him through the portal. Jaskier lands on his back with a surprised "oomph" and lies there, staring up at the blue sky. Nearby, three horses are tied to trees, grazing placidly. One, a chestnut mare, looks up and flicks her ears when she sees Jaskier sprawled across the ground, but doesn’t otherwise react. The clearing is silent and peaceful, save for the sounds of shouting and swords clashing coming from the other side of the portal.

And then Geralt, Eskel, and Yennefer come striding through the portal. Well, Yennefer comes striding through, dragging the two witchers with her. “The whole idea of this was to not make it obvious you were escaping,” she tells Geralt, acid dripping from her tone. “The baron would have gone to his grave thinking it was his decision to spare you. There wasn't supposed to be a brawl.”

“Things got complicated.”

“Don’t they always?”

For the first time, Jaskier notices that Geralt is holding his lute. He cries out in delight. “Thank you! I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. She deserves so much better than that idiot of a minstrel who dared lay a hand on her. Now, could someone please untie me so I can be reunited with her properly?”

Still looking faintly bemused, Eskel bends to cut through the ropes around Jaskier wrists and ankles. Jaskier bounces to his feet to take his lute from Geralt’s hands, checking it over for scratches. To his relief, it's unharmed. The idiot minstrel must have at least known how to take care of a lute, if not how to play one.

“What happened?” Jaskier hears Yennefer ask Geralt in a low voice. “We were only gone for three days and we came back to find you sentenced to death.”

“There was a contract to clean out a ghoul’s nest,” Geralt says, sounding tired. “It was easy work and there was a room at the inn included in the pay, so I took it. But I woke up that night to find three men breaking into my room with knives and pitchforks.”

Yennefer sighs. “And you defended yourself.”

Geralt nods. “One of them was the son of the baron's cousin.”

Jaskier grimaces. It seems the baron's family is full of charming characters.

Eskel goes to put one hand on Geralt’s shoulder and the other on the small of Yennefer’s back. “That’s what Yenn and I get for thinking we can leave you alone for more than an hour or two, Wolf,” he says softly, leaning his forehead against Geralt’s.

Clutching his lute to his chest, Jaskier looks between the three of them, interest peaked. The fact that three of the most beautiful people he’s ever met in his life all appear to be lovers is… intriguing. It’s certainly a more appealing thing to dwell on than the thought of what would have happened to him if Geralt hadn’t taken pity on him.

Yennefer notices him watching and frowns. “And who the fuck is this?”

“I already tried to tell you,” Jaskier says. “My name is—”

“He’s a bard.” Geralt shrugs. “He was about to be hung for a bullshit charge. Couldn’t just let him die. He didn’t deserve it.”

Jaskier swallows. “Thank you for that, by the way. I was quite thoroughly fucked before you came to my aid. And not even in the fun way.”

“What are we supposed to do with a bard?” Yennefer demands.

Jaskier offers what he knows for a fact is a beguiling smile. “If I could offer a suggestion—”

“Figured we can find someplace to leave him,” Geralt says. “Wherever it is that bards go.”

Eskel frowns. “We can’t just leave him somewhere. All he has is his lute and the clothes on his back.”

“Yes, thank you, Eskel,” Jaskier says. “You’re already my favorite.”

Eskel’s cheeks turn a fetching shade of pink. Oh, that’s delightful. “You’re Jaskier, right?” he asks. “The poet?”

Jaskier’s eyes widen and he bounces to his feet, delighted. “Oh, so you’ve heard of me? My poetry has not been as popular as my ballads, but I do have two books of poetry to my name, as well as several pieces published in anthologies—”

Yennefer shoots Geralt an exasperated look. “You couldn’t have saved the horse thief? I thought you would have some fellow feeling for that one.”

Geralt rolls his eyes, but he looks more fond than angry.

Jaskier opens and closes his mouth, torn between amusement and outrage. “My lady, I assure you, I am far more handy to have around than a horse thief. The songs that I’ll sing of your heroism today will be known Continent-wide.”

Eskel chuckles and slaps Geralt on the back. “Excellent. That’s the best way to thank Geralt. Write a song about him.”

Geralt sighs loudly. “Where can we bring you, Jaskier? Do you have family or friends you could stay with?”

“Well, my father, the Earl de Lettenhove, wrote to the baron to tell him to go ahead and hang me, since he doesn’t have a son named Julian,” Jaskier says, using cheer to cover up the fact that that still stings. “I do have friends, but they’re all traveling bards. I’d hate to saddle them with me. Like Eskel said, I have nothing but my lute and the clothes on my back. You could bring me to Oxenfurt, I suppose, but in the middle of the term, there won’t be a position for me. So I’m afraid I’m quite out of options right now. My coin and most of my belongings are back at the baron’s estate and I’d rather not risk his wrath by going back there.”

The two witchers and the sorceress exchange looks.

Jaskier steps forward, trying to look wide-eyed and not even a little bit annoying. “If you don’t mind me saying, the reputation of witchers is not… particularly flattering, is it?”

Eskel grimaces, turning his scarred cheek away, like he thinks it will frighten Jaskier. “We won’t harm you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Well, of course you won’t.” Jaskier chuckles at the very idea. “You saved me. Poor villains you make, snatching hapless bards from the jaws of death.”

Yennefer snorts. From the look on her face, she knows exactly what he’s angling for.

“The right song can change the public’s opinion drastically,” Jaskier continues. “There’s a reason kings keep bards in their courts to sing of their exploits in battle. I owe the three of you my life. Let me repay you by traveling with you for a bit. I can write a song that will make the people of the Continent see witchers as heroes, not monsters. Perhaps several songs.”

“And what about me?” Yennefer crosses her arms over her chest and arches one eyebrow. “What songs will you sing of me, bardling?”

Most bard would probably say her beauty: those violet eyes, those raven tresses, that flawless skin and perfect face. Most bards are idiots. “You seem like a woman who has a story to tell,” he says carefully. “I would be honored to hear it and sing of it, if you’d let me.”

It must be the right thing to say, because she lets her arms drop to her sides and shrugs. “We may as well bring him along for a bit. He could be amusing. And Geralt did ruin my perfectly good rescue plan for him. We shouldn’t let that be in vain by leaving the bard in the middle of nowhere.”

Geralt shoots her a wry look. “Next time you have to save my ass, Yenn, I won’t fuck up your plans.”

“Bold of you to assume there will be a next time.” But her words are belied by the fond curl of her lips. Oh, Jaskier needs to know everything about how the three of them ended up together and how their relationship works. They seem like such an odd threesome—two rugged witchers and one elegant sorceress—but he can see the easy affection between them that speaks of years, if not decades, together.

Only Eskel is still looking at Jaskier. “Life on the Path isn’t easy.”

“Neither is life as a traveling bard,” Jaskier says. “Hence the three death sentences.”

“Three?” Geralt asks.

“The other two aren’t important.” Jaskier waves a dismissive hand. “The point is, I’m always up for a new adventure, and an adventure that involves two witchers and a mage seems much safer than traveling on my own. So, what’s the verdict?”

Geralt, Eskel, and Yennefer exchange glances. Some silent communication seems to pass between them, because Geralt says, “Okay. You can travel with us for a bit.”

“A year?” Jaskier offers.

Yennefer makes a disdainful noise. “A week.”

“A month,” Eskel says.

Jaskier nods before Yennefer can argue with that. He has faith that once the month is up, they’ll want him to stay longer. Jaskier is a delight, if he says so himself. “A month I can do. That’s plenty of time for me to write a song of your heroics. Trust me, my friends, I’ll make this more than worth your while.”

“We’ll see about that, bardling,” Yennefer says, already turning away from him.

Jaskier beams at the back of her head, unable to let even her skepticism dull his eagerness. After seven years as a traveling bard, he’s finally going to have a real adventure, one filled with monsters and magic and excitement.

And maybe, if he’s really lucky, just a touch of debauchery.

***

#the witcher #geraskelfer #still determined to make this oT4 a thing #eskel x geralt x jaskier x yennefer #eskel/geralt/jaskier/yennefer #eskel #witcher eskel #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #whump the bard #what about the bard

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urlocalpari · 3 years

Text

graceless.

— you don't know what came over you, but in that moment your brothers were the only thing that mattered, you stepped forward as you hoped they wouldn't spit on your grave

note: reader uses she/her pronouns implied cassandra sandsmark x reader [like, if you squint] warning: mentions of torture, death, b!ood, cursing, violence, self harm unedited,,,,

batfam x batsis!reader

a/n: honestly, idk what this is but i got bored so well,,,, i'm working on the other requests and everything else, but life's been a bit hard :D ah, nothing like a good dose of angst for the day, am i right?

moved to @the-ink-of-roses

this wasn't how it was supposed to go.

it wasn't how it was supposed to go at all.

this was supposed to be a vacation. a family bonding time for all of you, not like whatever this was, not like this. you were supposed to take a while off from your suits, not be here, like this.

no where was it supposed to end up like this, like when all your brothers, father and you were locked up and the only thing you could hear where their torn yells.

in the end you knew they didn't want to yell much, not only to prevent showing weakness but to ensure that you wouldn't get worried much but this person, this person knew how to make you, all of you, yell.

it had been a few days since you'd been taken. whoever this person was, it seemed like he had spent a while studying your entire family, even bruce was helpless.

they knew when to strike and how to.

they managed to get you guys at your lowest, aiming for the loose canon, a weakness.

you.

you were the reason they were on vacation in the first place, if it wasn't for your tendency to over work yourself while you had a broken arm, none of them would be here.

and with a broken arm and a sprained ankle, you weren't much of a fight, the others were taken trying you save you.

the all of you had used up your last chance to talk to the outside world by contacting alfred, asking him to alert the league of your capture, not only in hopes of a rescue but also to make sure gotham's rouges didn't get too enthusiastic in the light of batman's disappear, but by how things were going you didn't think there would be a batman and co to return too gotham.

you hated being pessimistic, but right now? these people had studied your family, a bit by bit and they were coming for every little weakness.

you could tell they tried to hold onto hope, even tim who was usually negative tried being hopeful for you but that just made it worse.

they wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you.

this was your mess, your fault you dragged them into it and now you'd drag them out of it.

you knew a lot. you knew they needed a sacrifice but someone who would willingly step forth, and that's why they tried breaking your family, to have anyone step up in order to save the others.

it was a basic hero complex.

the 'i don't give a fuck about myself, but i will die saving them' and unluckily you'd inherited it from them, from all the times they'd saved you, from the time bruce took you in to the time damian stood in front of you as a shield.

it was your turn.

you turned to tim and gently shook his shoulder, waking up him. he'd been dozing off and you couldn't blame him, but over here you didn't know if anyone would wake up if they slept.

"timmy," you whispered, "wake up."

he tired to shoot up straight but you hugged him before he could; any rash and fast movements from you'll would catch their attention and the torture would begin again.

they'd taken a break for a while, you didn't know why but you could sense them returning soon. you needed to finish this off.

"tim, do me a favor please," you looked at your younger brother, slowly letting him go and reaching for the necklace around your neck, "give this to cas- wonder girl, and tell her i'm sorry."

you pulled off the necklace and tim seemed to realize what you were doing. his eyes widened, "y/n no, you can't. they'll be here any minute now, c'mon, hold on please."

you shook your head, your eyes were glassy but tim's little speech and woken up the others, who'd either lost consciousness or dozed off.

"y/n? tim?" jason asked, his voice was hoarse from screaming that day, you didn't know how he was still awake, "wha- what's y/n doing?"

"something i should have done ages a go," you took a shaky breath in before turning to everyone else in the room, they seemed to realize what was going on.

damian was struggling to reach you now, not caring if their captors returned, he didn't care. he just wanted his sister. he pulled and struggled against the heavy chains around his ankle and arms, mad he couldn't reach you.

mad no one could.

you were the only one's who's hands weren't tied, probably because your arms were already broken and they didn't see any sense in tying them. that'd be a waste of chains.

instead they used the extra chains to make sure everyone else was 'extra secured' and honestly, you had to admit it was well planned out.

"i'm so sorry," you chocked out a sob, looking at every last one of them struggle, "i love you all so much, you guys are the best thing that ever happened to me, even with the crazy capes."

"tell wonder girl, timmy," you looked at him before slowly standing up as much as you could without your chain holding you down, "hey!!"

the minute you yelled you could see them looking at you, and you don't know what came over you but you walked forward, the chain on your ankle dissolving into the ground.

"if i offer myself as a sacrifice, willing," you emphasized the last word, "you let my family go and never harm them ever again."

as you said that, you swore for a minute you swore you say them hesitate.

huh, maybe it wasn't so hopeless after all, but whatever you were going to do after this would be dangerous, you weren't cheating death this time and you know it.

"how can we be so sure you will stick to your promise little wayne," one of the captures spoke and you realized they weren't human, you always had a feeling but hearing them from a short distance did nothing but prove your suspicions, "how do we know you won't run away."

you took a shaky breath and you glance at your family one last time. jason had given up struggling and now he was to a point close to sobbing, damian was still yelling profanities at them, tim hadn't moved his gaze from the necklace you left on him, duke looked at you helplessly, begging you with his eyes, dick seemed to be in tears by then and bruce-

your father stared at you, wordlessly. he knew he couldn't stop his daughter, he knew he'd lost you the minute you got up because you were his daughter, and just like him, once you'd made up your mind, not even the lord itself could change it.

you turned back at the beings and gave them a firm nod, grabbing a dagger you didn't remember having and you slit your wrist.

a blood oath, one you wouldn't break here.

how you knew this? you had no clue, but you knew this was your own will power, no one was forcing you.

"i, y/n wayne, promise to not escape, and offer myself as a sacrifice-"

damian stopped struggling and hung his head down, he couldn't stop you now.

"-under the terms that my family is free-"

everyone's bounds broke free, but they still couldn't move. something was holding them back from reaching out to you.

"-and remains unharmed until the end of time-"

tim grasped your necklace tight, his knuckles turning white as everyone huddled together, holding on to one another as they saw the one thing keeping them together, their glue, slip away.

"-i swear on the blood in my veins, i am under no influence-"

as you muttered the last words, you could hear their cries fading and in your lost thought, you hoped none of them would spit on your grave for this.

"-and this decision is my own."

a blinding light came forth and grabbed you, and then in a millisecond you were gone.

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