#(Alfred)

[thief-of-eggs]

Headcannon that due to diligently monitoring the Wayne family’s media image, Alfred is chronically online, and as such, is constantly dropping slang into conversation like-

(Over the coms)

Batman: Alfred, what’s the update on the Arkham situation?

Alfred: *Ahem* Unfortunately sir, it is as they say- ‘we’re cooked’

Collective groans from Tim, Dick, and Jason over the coms

Batman: …Huh?

Jason: *muttering* I knew I should’ve stayed outa this one…

Damian: I don’t understand, what are we cooking?

Alfred: It’s giving ‘failure era’, sir-

Dick: Damn it!

Tim: We really are cooked

Damian: What does that -?

Alfred: It’s lowkey not-

Batman: In English Alfred. Please.

Alfred: *Sigh* My apologies, sir. The Joker has escaped.

[nosyrobin]

TODDLERTWIN!READER IMAGINE‼️

ToddlerTwin!reader who is trying to ignore toddler!damian who is pulling on their sleeve. Damian had accidentally ate reader’s last cookie, making the toddler puff and huff. Damian then starts to cry loudly, not liking the silent treatment as Alfred picks Damian up. Damian glares at Alfred while yelling “no! Down!” As he pushes a chubby hand against the butler. Alfred sighs and puts Damian back down to not make the tantrum even worse. Damian goes over to his twin and sit down with a hard thump. Annoyed at being picked up, he plays with reader’s hand. Making the ticklish reader giggle. That soon makes the other twin, Damian laugh as he keeps tickling reader.

Alfred can only smile as he walks to the kitchen to make more cookies

[hellsitegenetics]

I’ve come to make an announcement: Shadow the Hedgehog’s a bitch ass mother fucker. He pissed on my fucking wife. That’s right, he took his hedgehog fuckin' quilly dick out and he pissed on my fucking wife, and he said his dick was THIS BIG. And I said “that’s disgusting!” So I’m making a callout post on my twitter dot com: "Shadow the Hedgehog, you got a small dick, it’s the size of this walnut except WAY smaller." And guess what, here’s what my dong looks like: PFFFFFFFFGJT. That’s right baby. All point, no quills, no pillows, look at that it looks like two balls and a bong. He fucked my wife so guess what, I’m gonna FUCK THE EARTH. THATS RIGHT THIS IS WHAT YOU GET, MY SUPER LAZER PISS. Except I’m not gonna piss on the earth, I’m gonna go higher. I’m pissing on the MOOOOOON! How do you like that, OBAMA? I PISSED ON THE MOON, YOU IDIOT! You have twenty-three hours before the piss d r o p l e t s hit the fucking earth, now get out of my fucking sight before I piss on you too!

String identified: ’ c t a a act: a t gg’ a tc a t c. cg . Tat’ gt, t gg c' c t a cg , a a c a T G. A a “tat’ gtg!” ’ ag a cat t ttt t c: "a t gg, gt a a c, t’ t t at ct A a." A g at, ’ at g : GT. Tat’ gt a. A t, , , at tat t t a a a g. c g at, ’ ga C T AT. TAT GT T AT GT, A . ct ’ t ga t at, ’ ga g g. ’ g t ! tat, AA? T , T! a tt-t t t t t cg at, gt t cg gt t!

Closest match: Molanna angustata genome assembly, chromosome: 4 Common name: Hood casemaker fly

[jokin-around]

Day in the life 🦇

[thesuperheroesnetwork]

Texts From Superheroes

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[sheiyavlad]

Supersons as parents part 3

(i know no one asked for this but these'll keep coming i have so many ideas lol)

[deadsetobsessions]

Bruce didn’t come here often. Perhaps that was terrible of him but he couldn’t bear to visit his son’s resting place. It was difficult to equate his high-spirited son, bright as the sun itself and endlessly brilliant despite the more he grew up in, to the cold and lifeless stone engraved with his name and words that did not encompass everything his son was to him.

His hands were full of flowers, Jason’s favorite books, a round rock, and his son’s favorite foods.

Bruce didn’t come here often, because it broke his heart even more when he did, but today was a day that love and grief triumphed over his need to avoid.

He walked down the winding pathway, Alfred a silent sentinel behind him. He hated it, but he understood. Today was the only day Alfred allowed himself to be emotionally closed off. He’d lost a grandson.

Bruce didn’t come here often, but his son’s birthday was a day Bruce would remember how to love and live again, just for Jason.

“I will be over here, Master Bruce.” Alfred stopped at his designated spot, where Bruce had added a bench and a draping tree to shade Alfred as he stood vigil.

The first time they’d- it was April, and the sun- after the funeral, Bruce was lost in the throes of grief and had kneeled over the freshly tilled dirt for hours. Alfred had stood there, in that same spot, in the city’s rare blazing sun until Bruce came back to himself.

Bruce had almost lost his second father that day, and what good was wealth if it could not prevent that? And so, water, shade, a bench, and a space heater was added.

Bruce knows better than anyone how stubborn Alfred can be, when it comes to matters of the heart. After all, he didn’t have to raise Bruce after Martha and Thomas died.

“Alright, Alfred.”

Bruce splits from the haggard butler with pointed looks at the water bottles he’d prepared for today for Alfred (who manages, this time, a faint but amused raise of an eyebrow) and walks towards Jason Todd’s grave.

Here where his son is buried, the grass is kept green. In April, Forget-Me-Nots bloomed and dotted the place where Bruce’s world collapsed with bright colors. In August, it is still green, but the tin engraved with the names of the deceased stood out without the flowers.

Bruce kneeled and quietly arranged the flowers before placing them in the tin. He set the platters of food down and uncovered them. The scent of chili dogs made his heart stutter, flashes of a bright smile and book references blinding Bruce with their nostalgia.

He swallowed, grief building, and placed the stone he’d brought atop the gravestone. He sat back, gripping Jason’s book with white knuckles.

Bruce didn’t turn around when clothing rustled behind him. Alfred would have verbally cut down anyone that dared to approach them today, especially here. That he didn’t do so was telling of who it would be.

“I’m still mad at you, for not telling me as soon as you knew.” Dick Grayson sat down, hand over one of Jason’s school bag pins he had carefully attached to the front of his jacket.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“He deserved better. I should have been there.” Dick whispered, placing another bundle of flowers into the tin. It fit, but barely. “I would have dropped everything to come find him. Even if it wasn’t on time, even if it wasn’t enough, I deserved to be there when he was buried. We were family.”

“I know.” Bruce repeated, no less regretful. In his grief, he had wronged his loved ones. “I’m sorry.”

Dick casted a quiet, assessing eye at him. Bruce stayed quiet.

“It’s too dreary,” Dick said. He took out paints, little statutes of robins, bright birds, and bits and bobs Bruce knew Jason would have loved had he been alive out of his pockets.

“It should be more colorful,” Dick murmured as he placed them artfully against the headstone.

They sat there, for a while. Dick glanced at… at Bruce’s hand, and settled down.

It’d been a while since they’ve spoken, but he knew what the man intentioned to do today. This will be the most Dick will have heard Bruce speak outside of his civilian obligations.

Bruce took the cue and gently opened Jason’s book. He’d bought it for Jason- the first gift- and he’d read it to Jason every night. Dick had a similar book.

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my purse…”

——

A boy with black hair and blue eyes wandered amongst the graveyard. They’ve been here for a while, and the man’s low rumble was soothing to listen to. The shades that hung about the graveyard settled as he read out loud from the book as his son sat quietly beside him.

As the boy, invisible and intangible, brushed his hand against the gravestone, he wondered why they were reading to an empty grave.

——

Dick had left long before Bruce did.

And when it was time to go, as stars began to climb and as the cold began to nip at his fingers, Bruce heard a quiet voice.

“Do not stand at his grave and weep,” and Bruce turned, recognizing the poem. “He is not there. He does not sleep.”

But there was no-one.

[gameraboy2]

Batman (1966), "Batman is Riled"

[laxxarian]

Danny swore he was napping under a tree at the park so why is he sitting at a dinner table along with other kids inside a mansion?

Answer: Danny was mistaken as Damian who was also napping under a tree

The kids didn't notice but Alfred and Bruce did, the three were staring with questionable looks

[deaddovedecadence]

What would platonic yandere Batfam do if reader got sick and fevered to the extent that they just didn’t understand what was going on? Would they use this to their advantage?

Oh fuck yes, they would. I’m going to tell you how each one of them would do it. This will be taking place in something I call the sunshine verse aka the mob au verse

Alfred: He’s so gentle. You don’t realize that you’re slipping in and out of reality, telling you the entire time that you’re safe, that you’re loved, that you belong here. You will not see him drug your food, but he might, if you don’t let yourself get better

Bruce: He tells you that he’s your father, you call him dad in a fever weak tone and he smiles, all predator. You do not see how makes the world small, you’re too sick for that.

Dick: Dick is the one that twists everything that makes it your fault, that tells you you’re supposed to trust them, that you’re supposed to let them care for you. He makes promises that you won’t remember whe you wake up he holds up anyways

Jason: Gets locked in his room because otherwise he’d try to kill most of his siblings. He remembers the way that dick used to be with him when he got sick and he is terrified of that happening to you. He can’t stop it and that’s the worst part

Cass: Really likes helping care for you while you’re sick because then she doesn’t have to force you to be calm. Almost wants you to stay sick so that she can take care of you more often

Tim: Got you sick in the first place. He noticed it starting to happen and just kept pushing you and pushing you until you broke because it’s more useful to gently break yo then force it

Duke: Duke keeps you on their lap, humming lullabies and just holding you through your sickness even when you want to run away and hide from the rest of the world. They are the person you trust and go to so this sickness really reinforces that for you

Damian: dunks you in the pits after you offer him a pitbull

[the-glass-is-actually-full]

Alfred: When life gives you lemons you-

Damian: Squeeze them in your enemies eyes. The stinging temporarily blinds them, giving an opportunity to stab them in the heart.

Jason: You throw them through life's window and demand for a knife.

Tim, sleep deprived, walks in and snatches the lemon out of Alfred's hands before taking a massive bite out of it. Everyone watches him silently, eyeing each other.

Tim, shrugging: This needs more flavouring- it's too sweet.

[gzeidraws]

Dimitri outfit swap with Alfred, but it just looks like two Dimitris 😂

[nosyrobin]

Imagine‼️

Chubby toddler twin!reader and Damian at daycare, maybe reader is baby waddling away. Making Damian go after them, but he isn’t waddling as he is a fast learner. Twin!reader waddles and trips, falling on his face. Going to cry as sniffles escaped his mouth. Damian huffed, crouching and mumbling words that only babies/toddlers know as he pats his brother’s head. Reader stops crying and holds his hand out towards Damian. Damian pulled his brother up with a huff since his twin is chubby. And the two twins go to walk together, holding hands as Alfred takes a picture from far away.

[destinyisall-tlk]

the last kingdom + alignment chart (insp)

[bet-on-me-13]

Clockwork is a Halfa.

So. Clockwork is one of the few Halfa's in existence. He usually stays in his Ghost Form, as in that form he is disconnected from Timr and can better oversee Existence.

But he does have a Mortal Form. He hasn't used it in Eons, or maybe it was centuries? Time is weird for Beings that exist outside of it.

Whatever the case, it's been a while since he has entered his Mortal Form.

But he suddenly finds a reason to need it. Danny has decided that he wants to try out Reincarnation, and he will not let his son live a life away from him in a completely different Dimension. It's far too dangerous!

So, he enters his Mortal Form, inserts himself into that Dimensions Timeline, and waits for Danny's Reincarnation to be Born.

Now, who is he in DC? Well, what Character is a constant guiding hand to the protagonist? A wise old mentor to their Son? A calming force that always seems to know how to help his family? A man famous for his Otherworldly Cookies?

Clockwork is Alfred.

He took a Mortal Form so he could raise Danny's Reincarnation, Bruce Wayne.